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Chapter 40: How Can I Live Without Thee?
CHÂTEAU COUTHOVE, FLANDERS, BELGIUM
April 1918
Freddie’s pulse was rapid; he was emaciated, his lips cracked. She could feel him trying not to lean on her, but he wasn’t very strong. Laura took his weight as best she could. They were outside the hotel, in the courtyard, with ruined buildings on all sides. It was night. Pure moonless night, without a star visible. She looked for the road, for a landmark.
Nothing.
Nothing but buildings, and paths, and darkness. She was lost. Did the abyss have borders? Could the monsters be placated, at all? Maybe not. It’s a new world after all.
Faland’s slick, persuasive whisper sounded in her ear. Come back inside. It’s better inside. At least I will remember your names, Laura.
Freddie was trying to stand upright. “Laura, I’m frightened. I can’t see the way.”
You ask the ghosts,Winter had said.
You trail your ghosts like penitent beads,the Parkeys had said.
I don’t believe in ghosts,Laura had said, over and over. But had it mattered? The ghost had followed her anyway. Laura had thought her a conjuring of her own guilt and grief. But perhaps she was a little more.
Laura whispered, like the child she’d not been in ever so long, “Maman, I’m lost. Can you hear me? We’re lost, Freddie and I.”
Silence.
A hand brushed hers. Warm fingers, a little rough with glass. Ghosts have warm hands. She didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t dare. Looking would burst her fragile soap-bubble of belief. She didn’t look even when that familiar hand wound its fingers with hers, and pulled her forward. Holding on to Freddie, she walked. And then, some unnumbered steps later, the hand let go. Laura opened her eyes and saw that she and Freddie were behind the château of Couthove, seen only hazily through the mist of her tears.
· · ·Faland was gone. He hadn’t followed them. But Freddie was drooping against her, and Laura could feel the other monsters circling now, in their way far more implacable. Law, regulation, custom. Waiting to claim a deserter. To claim them both.
A light drifted from one of the bedrooms above, and Laura counted the windows. Realized whose room it was. Without stopping to think, she swiped a handful of pebbles from the drive, and threw. They rattled on glass.
Jones’s window flew open. He thrust his head into the gap. Saw them both, standing in a bit of light. Just as quickly, he vanished.
Her heart sank. She could feel Freddie’s strength ebbing. “Where?” Freddie mumbled. His head hung low. “Laura, where are we?”
Laura did not have time to answer before Jones came round the house and crossed to her in quick strides. He said, “What the hell, Iven?” And then he got a closer look at Freddie. They weren’t terribly alike, but shocked comprehension broke over Jones’s face anyway, as he reached to take Freddie’s weight. “How?”
“I found him,” said Laura. “He was trapped—he was— It wasn’t his fault.”
“Come inside; you’re shivering,” said Jones, after a pause.
“We have to get away from here.” It should be all right, she thought tiredly. They were together, they spoke French, they…
But then Freddie stirred and said, “Winter.”
Jones’s jaw tightened.
“Winter,” Freddie said again. “He was here. I remember. The château. We brought him here. Where’s Winter?”
“You brought—” began Laura, but Jones had seen straight to the point and he had a surgeon’s instincts: Cut in order to heal.
“No saving him,” said Jones. “He tried to murder a general, in the teeth of a massive German offensive. They took him right off, never mind his wound, and they’ll be interrogating him now. And then they’re going to hang him.” To Laura he added, “We need to get your brother inside.”
“No,” Freddie whispered, and Laura felt a sinking fear. Perhaps Freddie’s body would survive, if by some miracle she got him home. But the rest of him was so ragged. Would his mind survive, if he got out, but Winter was left behind, executed? She remembered how the two had looked, in memory, in that shell hole. Why had Winter fired the damned gun?
“I won’t let them arrest my brother,” said Laura to Jones, her voice jagged.
“I know,” Jones said. “But you both look like you’re about to collapse. Let’s get him inside. Then we’ll think, without drama, what to do.”
The last time she’d asked for his trust, it ended with a gunshot. He ought to be disgusted with her. He shouldn’t be risking his neck. Again. But here he was. “All right, Doctor.”
“Call me Stephen,” he said. He sounded irritable. But his fingers were gentle when he took Freddie’s weight from her. “We’ve a ways to go yet. I’ll look after you both.”
· · ·Laura’s hope—and she imagined Jones’s as well—was to slip Freddie into the château unseen. Get him settled, get some food into him, some tea. Let him sleep, for God’s sake. And then—well, he was officially dead, so perhaps with some bureaucratic chicanery they could slip him out. She didn’t have the money for passage back to Canada, but first things first. She could take a job, she spoke French…
So ran her thoughts, as Jones, with Freddie leaning on his shoulder, slipped in through the servants’ entrance and made for the back stairs, with Laura behind.
They met Pim coming down.
She was fully dressed and neat, despite the hour, and she didn’t see them at first. She was calling behind her as she walked. “No, I telephoned already, you can’t stop me, Mary. I’m going.”
Mary was in the stairwell a few steps behind her. “Have you even considered, for a moment, that it’s better not to draw attention—” She caught sight of the trio at the foot of the stairs.
Everyone stopped.
Mary recovered first. “Where have you been, Iven? We were—” She’d seen Freddie. “Who’s that? Get him in the ward, for pity’s sake, is he—?” She stopped again, seeing the looks on all their faces. “What?”
Pim had understood. With a swift step, she got to the bottom of the stairs and flung her arms around Laura. “You found him,” she said. Her eyes were starry with tears. “You found him.”
“What in God’s name?” said Mary.
Laura, suddenly full of a sinking fear, tried to marshal her thoughts. She hadn’t actually planned for an after, when the miracle had happened. She shouldn’t have come here at all. Mary was not sentimental. She wouldn’t risk her hospital to help one tattered deserter.
“It’s Freddie, of course, Mary,” Pim threw over her shoulder. “It’s Laura’s brother.”
At Pim’s voice, Freddie lifted his head. A strange look came into his bewildered eyes. “I remember you,” he said. “Whatever he told you, he lied.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Pim.
“I saw you.” Freddie struggled for words. “I saw him—” His eyes swept the room. “Where is Winter?”
“Where did you find him?” demanded Mary.
“Trapped,” said Laura.
Mary looked scornful. “Deserted, you mean. And you brought him here, Iven, Christ. You know I’m going to have to—”
No, she wasn’t.Laura opened her mouth, furious, but Pim spoke first. “Mary Borden, how dare you?” Not for the first time it occurred to Laura that Pim’s slightly foolish manner was a construct, a shield maintained so perfectly for so long that she herself forgot sometimes what lay beneath.
“You are going to help them,” said Pim. “Because if you don’t, I’m not going to smooth over the—incident with Gage today. I’ll tell Young when he comes that you knew who Winter was when you took him in, that you pitied him. I’ll tell Young all kinds of things.”
No one said anything. It was as though a mouse had roared.
Mary set her jaw. “Shaw—”
“I mean it,” said Pim. “I’ll do it. They’ll be so angry. Make you close up your hospital. Or you could do the kind thing for once in your life, Mary.”
“Very well,” said Mary, bitterly. “All right, Pim, you wretch. You’ll go to Poperinghe, you’ll smooth things over with the general. And take Iven with you. I don’t trust you not to do something rash.”
Laura had missed something. “Tonight?”
Pim said, “I telephoned Young. I want to see the general. There were a few things I remembered, that—that Winter told me. I thought they would interest him.” She glanced at Mary. “And I thought—I can make sure that they’re not angry at us over it. Young’s coming to fetch me. Soon, actually. But lord, Mary, there’s no call for Laura to—”
Laura wasn’t listening. It didn’t make any sense. If Pim could telephone Young to tell him that she had information, why not just pass it along, then and there? A glance at Mary’s face showed Mary didn’t entirely buy it either. What, then?
“Winter?” whispered Freddie.
“It can wait,” said Jones, in a tone that allowed for no arguments. “You can barely keep your feet.”
Laura said slowly, “You’re going to Fifth Army HQ tonight, Pim?”
“Yes,” said Pim. “But of course I don’t need Laura to come with me, Mary, that’s quite all right. She ought to be here, of course, with her brother—”
“No,” said Mary. “You’ve backed me into a corner, Penelope Shaw, and I’ll let you go on that one condition, that Iven goes with you. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but Iven will keep you out of trouble, if only for her brother’s sake. You will make sure that no one at HQ blames the hospital for this wretched contretemps. In exchange, we shall put Laura’s brother in a bed quietly, and I shall arrange for them to leave the country. All right?”
Pim was shaking her head. “No—Mary, I’d rather not—”
“I mean it,” said Mary. “That, or I send Iven’s brother straight back to the Canadian Army and they deal with him. I have no more patience for any of this.”
Pim looked suddenly tired. “All right.”
Jones said reassuringly, “The quicker you go, the quicker you can come back. I’ll find a bed for your brother.”
Freddie was shaking his head. “No,” he said. “Can’t you see?” It was as though he fought to make sense, but could not.
“Stephen,” Laura said, low. “Take care of him.”
