1914. - H.S.

Chapter 3.

As the next few days passed by, the majority of my thoughts lay with the welfare of my best friend, Harry. The fact that I found a letter from him to myself in the jacket of another soldier made me suspicious. I couldn't help but think; what if Harry had been killed and this man found the letter in some sort of an aftermath? What if Harry was very much alive and the letter had simply fallen out of his pocket to be picked up by another man? All sorts of possibilities seemed to keep swirling through my mind yet I could draw no definitive conclusions. The date written on the letter suggested it had been written within the last week giving me even more hope that he was alive. Though I could never be sure.

I found myself having to look after the man whom I found with the letter, and I had yet to find the courage to ask him how, where and when he had got it.

The winter was now taking its toll on the air, and the land. My breath could be seen as I walked across the field towards the ward tent and the frost that covered the ground caused a crunch to be heard under my feet.

The tent was not too busy when I entered, although this was subject to change at any time. I strode towards General Newton; the man who had had the letter. His leg wound was improving and I had no doubt it would not be long before he was back on the front line fighting again, giving me less and less time to question him over the letter.

“Nurse Wells, how are you love?” he asked me from his bed, he had a way of trying to be charming to the nurses.

“I am well thank-you, yourself General?” I replied as I gathered the correct materials to clean and re-bandage the wound.

“Just lovely, thanks” he answered, a sly grin on his face. His greasy hands ran through his equally greasy hair before violently retrieving a bottle of rum he had left on his bedside and swigging it back. His eyes appeared to never leave me.

I unwound the bandage that currently covered his lower leg before I ran a wash cloth over his wound, that was healing yet would leave a gruesome scar. The man winced as I tightened the bandage around him securely.

“All done” I told him.

“I thought I was going to have to 'ave it cut off you know” he slurred, the alcohol he was consuming already having an effect.

“Well you've been lucky” I replied as I turned to walk away. I made it little distance away from his bed before I felt his calloused hand grip my shoulder. I turned suddenly, surprised by his action and the fact he had managed to sit up so quickly.

“I bet you'd like to know how I got that letter wouldn't you?” he asked before letting out a long, chesty cough.

“I don't know what you're talking about” I lied.

“Oh but you do, don't you Lillian?” , he smirked at the use of my Christian name rather than nurse title. “You have the letter”.

“How do you know I have anything?” I queried.

“Because I saw you Nurse Wells, with my own eyes, I saw you pick it up from my tunic pocket and put it in your own. You were not very discrete” he replied and I tried to walk away and ignore him but resisted when he told me he could tell me about Harry.

“What do you know?” I asked, moving closer.

“Well that depends what you can give me in return” he answered me as his hands, thick and ugly met my thigh. I knew instantly what he was implying.

“Get off of me” I lowered my voice, suddenly conscious of whoever was around. I slapped his hand away disgusted by his actions.

“So you don't want to know about General Styles?”

“Not if that is the way I must find out, I do not know how you got that letter or what you know about Harry but I shall not have you think that you can touch me in such a way” I exclaimed, starting to walk away.

As I left the tent, I heard the faint voice of General Newton shout behind me; “he's alive”.

*

A little before bedtime that evening we were interrupted in our tent by one of the sisters.

“We have received allegations of theft from the soldiers, we need to search your belongings” she spoke. I froze slightly in position at what she said, I hoped that me taking the letter from Newton's pocket wasn't constituting theft. Surely not? It was rightly mine after all, or Harry's. If anyone was guilty of theft it was Newton not me. But then again, it was probably something completely different.

“Your bag Miss Wells?” the sister interrupted my thoughts.

“Oh yes, sorry” I responded as I collected my belongings and placed them on the bed so she could search them. I was anxious and I wasn't sure why, I had done nothing wrong, however I couldn't help but think that the accusations had been made by Newton about the letter, his mocking attitude and sly actions towards me only increasing my suspicions.

And right as she saw the letters the sister picked them up, her delicate fingers running over the words on them.

“These will be confiscated” she told me, screwing the papers and pushing them into her pocket.

“Why? I am not guilty of any theft sister” I replied. “These are mine”.

“I have no doubt they are yours Miss Wells, but we now have reason to believe you have a close relationship with a patient” she explained. I was confused, a patient? A relationship? I was left uncertain as she left the tent leaving me to ponder over the matter as I lay on my bed. If my letters suggested I had a 'close relationship' with a patient that would suggest Harry was a patient which meant one thing; Harry was here somewhere in the hospital.

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