A Summer Promise (26 page)

For a moment Tom was literally struck dumb. He and Ricky had stuck to each other like Siamese twins, and had somehow managed to regard the war, if not as fun, definitely as an adventure in which victory would always reward the bold. Neither had yet suffered so much as a scratch, though God knew they had had plenty of narrow escapes. Indeed, had it not been for the amount of blood, Tom would have taken it for granted that his friend had merely received a scratch, perhaps from shrapnel, for judging by the sound the bomb had exploded some distance from them.

But now was no time for conjecture. There had been three of them gathered round their little campfire the previous evening, the third a fat and jolly sergeant. Tom looked round, but couldn’t see him anywhere, so he returned his attention to his friend. Ricky had got into his bolthole with no trouble the previous evening, but Tom knew that getting him out, badly wounded as he appeared to be, would be a different story. He began to dig as a terrier would when unearthing a rat, except that he took a good deal more care not to scatter his quarry with the sand he was disturbing. At intervals, he shouted the sergeant’s name, but getting no response he concentrated all his efforts on digging Ricky out.

When at last he had his friend’s body clear of the sand, he could see that whatever had hit him had been quite unpleasant. The wound ran diagonally from the top of his left shoulder across his chest and abdomen to his right hip, but Tom did not think it was deep. Taking it in at a glance, however, he realised that unless he got his friend to hospital with all possible speed Ricky could die from loss of blood, and the idea of continuing to fight the war with no Ricky to guard his back was unthinkable.

‘Rick? There’s an awful lot of blood and Sergeant Baldock seems to have disappeared, so we’re in it alone. Old sarge can look after himself, but I’m going to wrap you as best I can in what’s both our shirts, and then drive like hell to the nearest hospital, so if I seem a bit rough it’s in your interest to grit your teeth and bear it. Ricky, do you understand what I’m saying?’

Tom waited, then put his hands beneath Ricky’s shoulders and began to heave. He saw the wounded man’s face suddenly contort and knew he must be causing him considerable pain, but he knew also that the most important thing was to stop the bleeding if he could and then get his friend to a hospital, so he began to pull him towards the staff car.

If it hadn’t been for Sergeant Baldock, Tom thought afterwards, he could not imagine how he would have got Ricky into the jeep. When the sergeant had rolled into view and seen Tom heaving uselessly at the blood-boltered figure of his friend, he had wasted no words but put his large, fat forearm under Ricky’s knees and commanded Tom to ‘lift when I give the word’. The insurmountable task became simple when there were two of them to share it. And then the sergeant had gathered everything of value into the jeep, jumped into the passenger seat and leaned round to give Ricky a wide smile, seeing the younger man gritting his teeth to prevent a shout of pain. ‘Now your pal’s managed to stop the bleeding, you’ll be all right and tight,’ he had said cheerfully. He had turned to Tom, driving the vehicle as fast as he could whilst avoiding potholes and other obstacles. ‘Isn’t that so, old feller?’

Tom had agreed, and once they had left their makeshift camp behind he had turned to the sergeant, saying, ‘Where were you? I did look for you when I was digging Ricky out but there was no sign of you. Your bolthole must have been too good; it looked just like the rest of the landscape.’

‘And you would have driven off, leaving me with no vehicle and not even a camel to get me back to civilisation,’ the sergeant had said. ‘How would you have explained what had happened to me, hey?’

Tom had felt the hot blood rush to his cheeks and glanced sideways at the sergeant. ‘What would you have done, sarge, if you’d been in my position? No point in searching for you when I thought you must have taken a direct hit and be scattered all over the campsite. Besides, me and Rick, we’re good as brothers, almost. We went to the same school, signed on the same day, went on the motor mechanics’ course together and have been watching each other’s backs ever since. If you had been wounded, I promise you, we’d have done the same for you . . .’

‘Thanks very much,’ the sergeant had said with more than a trace of sarcasm. ‘As it happens, I’m a very heavy sleeper. I heard the air attack, but to tell you the truth I thought I was dreaming. Still, you did all right, and now you must concentrate on giving your friend as smooth a journey as possible. We’ll want to be out of the sun in a couple of hours, so let’s hope we’ve reached one of the field hospitals by then. No more recriminations; let’s drive.’

Tom and Sergeant Baldock had managed to get Ricky to a hospital in time for the operation he needed, and now, a week later, Ricky was sitting up in bed eating the hospital food, which he said was horrible but, even so, more palatable than the makeshift meals they had made themselves in the desert.

Today, Ricky was still festooned with tubes, but even the anxious Tom could see that his friend was very much better. After his operation he had seemed sleepy and lethargic, uninterested in everything, and although the doctor had assured Tom that it was only the loss of blood and not an attack of something dreadful such as sleeping sickness Tom had only been partly reassured, until today. Ricky had been positively animated when describing the horrors of hospital life, and for the first time had shown an interest in what had been happening in the outside world, where the Desert Campaign was slowly winding down in the Allies’ favour. Tom and Ricky began to discuss what it would be like if they pushed into Tunisia, as everyone assumed they would.

Alice stopped by the soldier with the ulcerated leg and sat down cautiously on the small camp stool which stood beside the bed. She smiled into the young man’s weary face, which had lightened when he saw her. ‘It’s all right; I’m not in trouble, in fact quite the opposite,’ she told him. ‘Believe it or not, I’ve been given a whole week’s leave, possibly even a little more. Apparently there’s a rest camp only a few miles away from Cairo which has a swimming pool . . .’

‘Lordy, lordy, I’ve heard about them rest camps,’ the soldier said wistfully. ‘I thought they was probably just for officers, but apparently it seems I were wrong. Other ranks get to go there and the blokes what’ve been say it sets you up nice for wharrever is to come. That young doctor, Hassan I think his name is, says as soon as my poor bloody leg heals I’ll be off there meself for at least four days.’ He grinned cockily up at her. ‘Wharrabout that, eh, nurse? You might find yourself dancin’ the light fantastic wi’ me, as soon as this perishin’ ulcer does as it’s told.’

Alice was about to reply when she saw someone stand up and stretch from his position beside one of the other patients’ beds. She stared. It was just a likeness, of course; everyone knew how easy it was to believe you had spotted a friend, only to run up to him or her and realise that you were addressing a total stranger. It was the man’s hair colour, she thought guiltily. She had thought Tom’s hair was aggressively ginger when they had first met, but later she had realised it was really chestnut; his father’s was the same.

The man leaned down and gripped the hand of the patient in the bed, then straightened and turned away. It
couldn’t
be Tom, Alice told herself. That was carrying coincidence too far. If Tom had had a brother . . . but she was certain that he did not. The only other man she had met with Tom’s colouring was his father and she knew for a fact that Mr Browning was somewhere in India.

Alice took a couple of tentative steps towards the man just as he raised his head, and for a dizzying moment their glances locked. And then Alice gave a small shriek and was in his arms and being lifted up and twirled round, whilst the man repeated her name over and over. ‘Alice, Alice, Alice! What in God’s name are you doing in Egypt? You’re in India, I know you are. I got your letter telling me you’d started training as a nurse . . . oh, Alice, it’s so very good to see you again!’

Alice was beginning to reply when an acid voice spoke from the bed beside which their reunion was taking place. ‘Can I gather from this rather strange conversation that you two know each other?’ it said. ‘If so, nurse, I think it only fair to warn you that Tom is notorious for having a girl in every port. Or perhaps every oasis would be more appropriate. But let me introduce myself.’ He scowled at Tom. ‘When you’ve stopped dribbling over this delightful young lady you might tell her that I’m your old school pal, Richard Thompson.’ He turned to face Alice. ‘And you, you lovely lady, will be . . .?

‘Alice Thwaite,’ Tom said quickly, too quickly, for he had suddenly remembered that Ricky might easily assume Alice was either Marigold or Maddy and address her accordingly. He turned to Alice. ‘And don’t you listen to him . . .’

‘I see,’ Ricky murmured, staring very hard at his friend. ‘Well, go on, I can see you’re dying to tell Nurse Thwaite how you saved my life. Don’t mind me.’

Tom laughed and addressed Alice. ‘Ricky was hit by shrapnel; nearly bled to death. He’s still convalescing; will be for another week or two, and then I’ll take him back to the desert and we’ll chase Rommel all the way back to Germany. But until he’s well enough to return I shall be kicking my heels around Cairo. My officer has said I can take official leave at the rest camp there.’

‘No! My friend Susan and I leave for the camp tomorrow,’ Alice cried. She fixed hopeful eyes on Tom, who could not help remembering, ruefully, the difference in their circumstances: she, the rich Miss Thwaite, and he the chauffeur’s ginger-headed son. ‘Any chance of spending our leave together, Tom, or are you secretly engaged to some Egyptian beauty?’

As she spoke, Tom had a fleeting vision of Marigold as he had last seen her: softly curling golden hair, big blue eyes and a figure . . . he swallowed. By God but she was beautiful! And she had something which lifted their relationship from mere friendliness to something warmer; he had heard the men talking about sex appeal, and supposed that Marigold had an extra dollop of it. But Alice was a dear – it might be nice to spend time with her. After all, spending a leave together – two old friends in a foreign land – could surely not be misconstrued as encouraging Alice to believe he was in love with her.

But Alice was still staring up into Tom’s face; too much time had elapsed and he had no intention of hurting her by letting her see his uncertainty. He broke into rapid speech. ‘Oh, Alice, that would be wonderful! I’ve heard the rest camp’s grand and the pool – imagine a swimming pool so near the desert – is large enough for all but the most dedicated swimmers. But wouldn’t your friend mind if I tagged along? I don’t want to put her nose out of joint.’

He squeezed her hand as he spoke and Alice, to his great embarrassment, returned the pressure. ‘I’m sure Susan will soon find herself some exciting companion,’ she said contentedly. ‘Where did you come from, incidentally?’

‘Oh, somewhere in the desert,’ Tom said vaguely. ‘Our camp, if you can call it that, was attacked by a Stuka, which is how Rick came by his wounds. The hospital won’t let him go until the stitches are out and the wound has healed, but if all goes well I’ll be setting off for the rest camp tomorrow.’ He grinned at Ricky, sitting up in bed now and clearly listening. ‘My leave looked like being pretty dull without old Rick here to keep me up to the mark. I thought I wouldn’t know a soul and would feel very out of it, but if you’ll befriend me, Alice, it would be a real kindness. And that’s our story. What’s yours?’

‘Oh, nothing exciting happens to nurses; we’re too stretched,’ Alice said truthfully. ‘Oh, Tom, you don’t know how happy you’ve made me! Of course Matron is sending us off in pairs, so I would have had Susan, but if you and I are together I’m sure I’ll enjoy every moment of my leave.’

Alice and Susan were packing in the cool, stone-built room with its patch of tropical garden which they had been allocated for the duration of their leave. And what a leave it had been, Alice thought dreamily, carefully folding a beautiful pale green evening dress in sheets of tissue paper before laying it in her cream-coloured suitcase. The shops in Cairo were wonderful. She and Susan, having had nothing upon which to spend their salaries for months, suddenly found themselves surrounded by a multitude of shops, some extremely British and others fascinatingly Egyptian. To their delight the prices were low, so they had been able to indulge in an orgy of spending. Both girls had fallen for tennis dresses with skirts made up of a thousand tiny pleats . . . and the bathing costumes! And then there were cotton frocks made to measure, smart suits for daywear, and even shoes. On the wards one wore flat shoes or sandals, but here, with dances being held somewhere every night, they could indulge in totteringly high-heeled pumps, or sandals disguised as mere wisps of leather.

‘I wonder when we’ll wear these again.’ Susan flourished a long pink gown as her voice cut across Alice’s musings. ‘Oh, Alice, hasn’t it been wonderful? I shall never forget the beautiful sunsets. I’ve often heard folk remarking that when the sun goes down in Africa darkness follows immediately, but I suppose I thought it was an exaggeration. It isn’t, is it?’

Alice remembered skies streaked with scarlet and gold, emerald green and palest blue, and smiled across at her friend. ‘No, it’s no exaggeration,’ she said, recalling how when the sun sank the sky had almost immediately become a black velvet curtain pricked with stars, and an enormous moon, gold as a sovereign, had shone down upon the land.

Susan gave an ecstatic sigh and clasped her hands. ‘And the camel rides; I thought it would be dreadfully uncomfortable, but it wasn’t, was it? And the pyramids! They won’t believe us back home when we say we went inside a pyramid and visited the Cairo museum to see the bodies of kings and queens in their sarcophaguses. And Paul was so knowledgeable; he made it come alive, almost as though they had died yesterday. For me, at any rate.’

She spoke dreamily and Alice, folding a skirt carefully on top of the dance dress, nodded sympathetically. ‘He did know a lot,’ she agreed. ‘You had Paul, but of course for me it was Tom who made it all so special. You did like him, didn’t you, Susan.’