The Foreshadowing (12 page)

Tom’s head dropped.

Father was talking about conscription. It seems more likely than ever that a bill will be passed soon.

“But if we start now, we can get you a commission in the medical corps, and then you can do your bit as well as do what you feel is right.”

Father was trying to compromise between what he thinks Tom should do and what Tom wants to do, and I was amazed. Father is not a man who usually compromises on anything.

But Tom let his head sink a little further, and would eat no more supper.

66

I saw Evans today, and it’s true, he seems to be better. I was wheeling a trolley between wards when I heard someone behind me.

“How are you, today, Nurse?” he asked, as if he made small talk like this every day of his life.

I smiled.

“F-fine . . . ,” I stuttered out. “Fine.”

“That’s good.” He stood smiling at me, waiting for me to speak.

“And how are you?”

As I spoke I saw from the corner of my eye that three nurses on the other side of the corridor were watching us with interest.

I started to wheel forward again, but Evans was talking to me now.

“Very well,” he said. “Thank you, Nurse. Very well.”

“You look much better, I must say.”

We were still being watched, and I was afraid.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Wonderful what the doctors have done for me, it is.”

I thought about what he had said, about the tests, the lights and being hurt.

“Everything’s right now, is it? The tests . . . ? They didn’t—”

“Oh, no,” he said quickly, smiling.

I started to feel uneasy.

“But what you said,” I persisted, “about feeling as though you had already seen things once before. What about that?”

He stopped smiling and stood up straight, stiff. For the first time I could actually imagine that he could be a soldier.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, and turned on his heels.

I looked at the nurses who had been watching and they pretended to be busy.

I wheeled my trolley on to the ward.

I feel let down. Of course it’s good that Evans is better, and I feel guilty for even thinking this, but when everyone thought he was crazy I thought I had found one person who I could confide in. And now he denies we ever spoke of such things.

If I only took heart from a discussion with a man while he was mad, what does that say about me?

65

Tom and I went Christmas shopping today. It didn’t feel quite right, because Edgar won’t be home this year. Nonetheless, we must try to make Christmas as normal as possible.

After a fruitless and tiring morning we decided that parents are impossible to buy presents for, and took a shortcut down one of the twittens that runs off Middle Street, to shelter in a small café in the Lanes, even though it’s an area of town Father doesn’t like us to visit.

We ordered buttered toast and tea, and hidden away in a corner by the window, I felt safer and happier than I had for a long time. I had been occupied at the hospital, but with Tom, I felt truly safe. But tired too, and told him so.

“Why?” he asked.

“There’s been so much going on.”

“At the hospital?” he asked.

“Yes.”

I stopped.

“There must be a lot to learn. Some of it must be pretty horrible, too.”

I nodded, and sipped my tea.

I looked out the window at the narrow, twisting passages of the Lanes. I could see a small slit of sky above the rooftops. It seemed likely to rain again soon.

“Are you all right?” Tom asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“But are you enjoying it?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t thought about it like that. But yes, I suppose I am.”

He stretched a hand across the table to mine.

“Then what’s wrong?”

I didn’t answer.

“What’s wrong, Sasha? I can tell something’s getting to you. You’re different from when I went away. Is Father being mean?”

I shook my head.

“No more than usual.” I smiled. “In fact, he’s been quite generous at times.”

“So what is it?”

I looked at my brother, and then looked away. He was so kind to me, he always had been, and he was open-minded and clever. If there was one person I could talk to, it was him.

I squeezed his hand briefly, then pushed it away.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Do you want some more tea?”

He was the one person who might believe me, but if he, of all people, reacted the way everyone else had, it would hurt more than I could bear.

64

When we got home, we found Mother and Father in the drawing room. They had a visitor: Miss Garrett.

Mother forced a smile as we came in.

“Miss Garrett stopped by to see you,” she said, but Father cut across her.

“To have a talk about your studying,” he said. I looked from Mother to Miss Garrett, who seemed uncomfortable.

“Sit down, Alexandra,” Father said. “Tom?”

Tom shuffled awkwardly in the doorway, then backed out, nodding to Miss Garrett and closing the door behind him.

“Mother?” I said, and felt very small.

Mother looked at her hands and then at Father.

“We understand that your work has been poor recently,” Father said.

“I only said—” Miss Garrett began, but Father interrupted.

“We are very disappointed.”

It all started to come out then.

“Alexandra, you’re an intelligent girl,” Mother said.

“But you’ve been so distracted lately,” Miss Garrett said.

I couldn’t think what to say; I knew it was true.

“Miss Garrett says you borrowed a book from her,” Father said. “Will you please go and get it.”

I hesitated, wondering what all this was about.

“Sasha. Please.” Mother said.

She looked so upset I wanted to shake her, but I went and got the book. Father took it from me and glanced through it.

“Why did you want this book when you haven’t been paying attention?”

I frowned.

“I wanted to read the stories,” I said. “I thought I’d better make an effort to catch up.”

“The Trojan Wars?” Father said. “Achilles? Ajax? Helen and Paris?”

“Your recollection of the classics is admirable,” said Miss Garrett, with false jollity. She misread Father’s tone entirely.

“And Cassandra, too?” he said, his voice loud. “Is that it?”

I could see what he thought, but I didn’t know what I could say. As usual, his mind was made up.

I shrugged.

There was silence for a long time.

63

Miss Garrett left shortly after that, making some embarrassed excuse and hurrying out into the evening with Mother fretting at her heels, pushing the copy of
Greek Myths
back into her hands as she went.

I really don’t think she meant to get me into such trouble. She’s not a strict tutor, and she means well. I think she was probably genuinely worried about me.

Mother dithered in the doorway, but Father wouldn’t let her back in, telling her to find Cook and that he wanted his dinner soon. She saw the look on his face and went off to the kitchen.

“Father,” I said. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Be quiet!” he shouted.

I sat down and felt myself shaking.

“Why do my children insist on making a fool of me?” he said, but I knew it was not a question I should reply to.

“What did you talk about?” he snapped.

“I . . . Do you mean with Miss Garrett?” I asked.

“No, I do not, and you know I do not!”

I didn’t understand, I really didn’t.

“The patient,” he seethed. “The Welshman.”

“Father,” I said, pleading, “nothing. I said nothing. He talked to me, I asked him how he was. That was all!”

“It was not all.”

“I swear it,” I said.

“You talked about his treatment. About me! Admit it!”

“No, Father, no,” I said, tears running down my face.

“You talked about the tests and the electrical stimulations. About the
déjà vu
he claimed to experience. Well, it’s all nonsense.”

I said nothing. It was clear someone had told Father and there was no point denying it anymore.

“You have been living a fantasy life, Alexandra, a fantasy. You have been idolizing the neurasthenic patients like Evans, and filling your head with wild myths from books!”

He paused then, as if I was supposed to say something, but there was nothing I could say.

“You are nearly a woman now, Alexandra. Did you ever stop to think what effect your childish imaginings would have on someone who’d lost a relative? Pretending you knew it was going to happen? How distasteful! How disrespectful! To make a game from their suffering!”

“No, Father!” I cried. “That’s not fair. It’s not true. I haven’t hurt anyone.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But I’m not going to give you the chance. You are not to go back to the hospital.”