The FitzOsbornes at War (52 page)

21st February, 1944

T
ODAY
I
TOOK THE TRAIN
down to East Grinstead to meet Rupert, and we went to visit Toby together. I’d been longing to see Rupert because I hadn’t spent any time at all with him since Milford, but I was also feeling rather anxious about it. Not about Rupert and me, of course – he writes such wonderful, loving letters and I feel entirely secure and happy whenever I think of him, which is quite often. No, I was worried about how rude Toby was going to be to him. I could just see Toby being consumed with bitter envy at the sight of an unscarred young man strolling in without the aid of crutches, and then Toby being as nasty to Rupert as he’s been to all his other visitors. Possibly he’d be
worse
, out of resentment that Rupert hadn’t visited earlier – even though poor Rupert is frantically busy with his work right now and only managed a visit this afternoon because he had some meetings in the area. And he
has
been sending kind, supportive messages via me, all this time – not that Toby’s said anything much when I’ve relayed them.

I don’t even know how Toby feels about Rupert and me being together, although I
have
told him. I’m not sure he was paying attention at the time – or perhaps he thought the information inconsequential, given all his other concerns. He didn’t even say anything when I told him that
Simon
had written. I’d become enraged at Simon’s long silence and sent him a furious letter, berating him for not caring at all about Henry or Toby. But apparently, Simon had been moved to another place and he hadn’t received any of our letters for months. I’m still not sure whether to believe that, but he did send his condolences about Henry and said he’d write directly to Toby. It’s anyone’s guess whether he
has
, but if he hasn’t – or if he’s written to announce he’s engaged to some local nobleman’s daughter – then I suppose that might be contributing to Toby’s black mood.

Anyway, when Rupert picked me up at the station, he saw at once that I was worried, and asked if something had happened. He was already aware of Toby’s medical condition from my letters, of course – and really, it’s mostly been
encouraging
news since Toby was transferred to the Queen Victoria Hospital. The doctors took the bandages off Toby’s eyes straight away and replaced them with saline compresses, and said that when the swelling went down, he should be able to see as well as ever. He wouldn’t even need to have new eyelids constructed, the way so many of the patients in his ward did. Then, last week, he had an operation on his neck to allow him to move it more freely, and had his first set of skin grafts done, and the surgeon said everything had gone very well.

‘Of course, it must hurt terribly,’ I said to Rupert. ‘Not just his neck, but also where they took the skin graft, inside his good arm. Being in constant pain would make anyone fractious. And his other arm is burnt, so he can’t use crutches at all. He’s not even allowed to move his neck. If he wants to go anywhere, he has to ask someone to help him into a wheelchair, except mostly he refuses to talk to anyone. And when he
does
speak, it’s generally to say something rude.’

‘Is he rude to you?’ asked Rupert, frowning.

‘Not actually
rude
, just sort of . . . cold and dismissive. But I know he’s angry at me. I had to tell him about Henry, you see, and he blames me.’

‘That wasn’t your fault,’ said Rupert. ‘It wasn’t anyone’s fault – except the Nazis’.’

‘I know, but you can understand why he’s upset. And then he had the most enormous row with Veronica yesterday. He snapped at one of the nurses, and Veronica told him to apologise, and he wouldn’t. He said he was sick of being treated like a child, and she said that was because he was
acting
like one and . . . Oh, you can probably imagine the rest.’

Rupert sighed. ‘Your aunt hasn’t been up to see him yet, has she?’

‘No, which is probably a good thing, because she’s not the most tactful person in the world. But
he
thinks she doesn’t want to see him because he’s all . . . because of the way he looks now. Which is true, I think. I mean, it
is
distressing to see him this way, and she still half-believes he’s some kind of impostor. So you see what a mess it is. Anyway, I thought I should warn you that he might be in a horrible temper.’

‘Well, if he
is
,’ Rupert said calmly, ‘it won’t be the first time we’ve had a row, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.’

He parked near the main entrance to the hospital, and I led him down the now very familiar path, through the foyer, and down the corridor to Toby’s ward. I could tell from the doorway that Toby was having a bad day, because he was still in bed, rather than sitting in the chair by the window. He wasn’t even reading – just glaring across the aisle at a patient who was surrounded by noisy relatives. Then Toby caught sight of us walking towards him, and all the unscarred bits of his face tightened.

‘Hello,’ I said. ‘I’ve brought you a visitor.’

‘So you have,’ he said flatly.

‘Hello, Toby,’ said Rupert, smiling at him. ‘It’s very good to see you.’

‘Is it?’ said Toby.

‘Yes, it is,’ said Rupert, pulling up a chair. ‘Sophie, won’t you sit down?’

‘Actually, I think I’ll leave you two to have a chat by yourselves,’ I said. ‘I’ll just put your clean pyjamas here in your locker, Toby. I brought two shirts as well, and a couple of books. Oh, and some chocolates.’

I’d queued for half an hour and spent a small fortune on those chocolates, but he barely glanced at them.

‘Well, then!’ I said. ‘I’ll be outside if you need me.’ Then I went back the way I’d come, stopping briefly at the nurses’ station.

‘He’s in a right mood today,’ observed Sister Connor.

‘I noticed,’ I said glumly. ‘His best friend from school has come to see him, but one would think I’d brought along his mortal enemy, from the looks he was shooting both of us.’

‘Ah well,’ she said comfortably, ‘if I hear any explosions, I’ll go in and toss a bucket of water over him.’

I smiled at her. ‘Thanks. Oh, and I brought you and Sister Patrick something.’ I handed over my second paper bag.

‘Chocolate! Goodness me, we
are
spoiled!’

But I thought they deserved a lot more than chocolate for putting up with my brother’s behaviour, let alone having to deal with the dressings and bedpans and everything else. I bet they don’t even get paid very much.

It was too cold and blustery to go for a walk outside, so I sat in the waiting room and read the newspaper I’d bought. Poor Billy Hartington had lost his by-election by five thousand votes. ‘A landslide victory for the common man and the Welfare State,’ the newspaper trumpeted. Then I turned the page and read about the United States embargo on oil exports to Spain. Apparently, the Americans had finally got sick of selling petrol to Spain, only to have Spain ship it straight to France, whereupon the Nazis would use it to fuel the planes that shot down American bombers. Even the British Ambassador to Spain had made a formal protest to Franco last month, Veronica had told me. That was why she’d been so busy at work lately.

At that point, Rupert walked in and slumped down beside me.

‘Are you all right?’ I asked anxiously. ‘What happened?’

‘Oh . . . you know,’ he said. He tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. It had just occurred to me that an apparently healthy young man in civilian clothes might not be very welcome in a ward full of badly injured servicemen, but when I asked, he said no, there hadn’t been any rude remarks about shirkers or conchies. In fact, it seemed the other men had been quite sympathetic because Rupert had shown such forbearance with Toby. Rupert gave me a brief account of their conversation (it was pretty much as I’d feared), but then he smiled.

‘Do you know what I was reminded of?’ he said. ‘Years ago, a cat of ours got caught up in a bale of wire. It was the barn cat, and he was more wild than tame. It took me half an hour to free him, because he kept thrashing about and getting even more tangled up. He had a few cuts – nothing major, but they must have hurt – and the poor thing was terrified, especially when I had to get out the wire cutters. They must have sounded so frightening. Anyway, I eventually cut him loose, set him down on the ground and stood back. It took a few seconds for him to realise he
was
free. He looked at me, looked around the barn, took a few steps away – then he leapt up at me and clawed three long gouges down my arm before dashing off.’

‘Oh, Rupert!’ I said. ‘Poor you!’

‘They were only scratches. But the thing is, when animals are hurt and frightened, they lash out at whoever’s closest.’

‘Toby isn’t an animal, though,’ I said. ‘He’s a human being.’

‘Well, we’re all animals, really – just with a veneer of civilisation. And who knows what barbaric experiences Toby’s had over the past few years? Any one of them might have been enough to strip off the veneer.’ Rupert frowned at the floor a moment, then said, ‘Has he talked about any of that yet?’

I shook my head. ‘Not a word,’ I said, ‘and it’s only because he’s just had surgery that military intelligence aren’t pressing him harder on that issue. Although it
did
help that the Colonel personally vouched for him. And it must be pretty obvious by now that Toby isn’t a Nazi agent. If he
is
, he’s doing a pretty bad job of it, drawing all this attention to himself by refusing to cooperate.’

‘Yes, I think they’ll soon give up on trying to question him. But it’d be good for Toby to talk about it, and not simply because it’s better to talk about traumatic experiences than suppress them. I know this sounds silly, but . . . well, he’s acting as though he feels
guilty
about something. It might help if he could confess.’

I stared at Rupert. ‘What on Earth would he feel
guilty
about? Crashing his plane? Not finding his way back sooner?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Rupert unhappily. ‘I just know that he’s acting the way he used to act at school, when he’d done something he was ashamed of.’

I thought about this for a moment. I could see what Rupert meant. ‘But we can’t make him talk when he doesn’t want to.’

‘No, not now. But with a bit of time, with someone he trusts . . .’

‘He does get on all right with Julia,’ I said. ‘Mostly.’

‘I was thinking of you,’ said Rupert. ‘You’re the one he’s always confided in.’ Then he looked at his watch. ‘Oh. I’m really sorry, Sophie, but I’ll need to leave soon.’

I went to say goodbye to Toby, who was pretending to be asleep, then Rupert drove me to the railway station. He told me he’d probably be in London next week, and that he’d telephone as soon as he knew for certain.

‘I wish we could see more of each other,’ he said, after we’d kissed goodbye. ‘I wish I could be in London with you all the time. But work is just so hectic.’

‘Will it become quieter after the Second Front starts?’

‘Busier, actually, at least for a month or two,’ he said. ‘After that . . . well, who knows? Perhaps the war will be over by then.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ I leaned through the car window to give him another kiss, then reluctantly pulled away. ‘Go on. You’ll be late for your meeting.’

‘I do love you,’ he said, with his sweet smile, and then he drove off.

He loves me! It still makes my heart leap when he says that. Somehow it makes all the horrible things going on so much easier to bear.

2nd March, 1944

T
OBY’S STUMP HAS NOW HEALED
enough that the doctors think he can be fitted for his artificial leg. There was some talk of moving him to Queen Mary’s Hospital at Roehampton, because that’s where most amputees go and they have an artificial limb factory on site. But Queen Mary’s has just been bombed again, so another hospital needed to be found, somewhere that had staff with the appropriate skills
and
was out of range of the Luftwaffe bombers. Of course, this search took a while. It wasn’t till yesterday morning that Veronica and I received the official notification of his transfer from the Queen Victoria Hospital. We stared at the name of the new hospital, looked at each other, then said as one,
‘Julia.’