Shoulder the Sky_ A Novel - Anne Perry [86]
He glanced at her. “Yer got a boyfriend here, ’ave yer?” he said with a grin.
She felt the heat wash up her face. He must wonder why she was pleased to be back when she had just been home. What other explanation could there be?
“Sort of,” she answered. That was near enough the truth for him to believe her, and she did not want to be questioned more closely. There was no truth that she could tell, even to herself.
He laughed. “I bet he ‘sort of’ thinks so, too!” He took her all the way into Poperinge and she thanked him and got out in the square. It was a warm day, a few bright clouds sailing along the horizon, the sunlight gleaming on the cobbles. A couple of bicycles were parked against the tobacconist’s shop window. Women were queuing at the bakery. She could hear the sound of voices from the Rat’s Nest on the corner of the alley, and a snatch of song. She walked over, and as the group of a dozen or so soldiers saw her, they sang more loudly, clapping on the beat, and finishing with a rousing chorus of an extremely bawdy version of “Good-bye, Dolly Grey.”
“ ’Oo are yer lookin’ fer, love?” one of them asked her hopefully. He looked about twenty, with bright blue eyes and a lopsided face.
“ ’Ave a glass o’ beer!” another called out. “Drink enough of it, an’ yer’ll forget this is a bleedin’ slaughter’ouse an’ think if yer go round that corner you’ll see a couple o’ cows, an’ a village pond wi’ ducks on it, not some stinkin’ crater full o’ the corpses o’ yer mates.”
Someone told him abruptly to shut up.
“It would take more than beer to do that for me,” she answered with a quick smile. “I’m looking for General Cullingford. I’m his driver. At least I was till I went on a couple of days’ leave. But I’m back now.”
One of the men looked her up and down appreciatively, and muttered something under his breath. Someone jolted him hard, and he did not repeat it.
“Sorry, love,” the first man said. “Looks like yer lost yer job. The general went out of ’ere yesterday evenin’ wi’ a new driver. Dressy little feller, ’e were, in a smart uniform an’ a face like a schoolboy, but civil enough, an’ could ’andle a car like ’e’d built it ’isself.”
It couldn’t be. She was stunned, as if she had driven into a wall and she was bruised to the bone. He wouldn’t do that!
“Sorry, love. Looks like yer back ter ambulances, or whatever.”
“What?” She looked at him as if she had not really seen him before. He was slim and dark, perhaps in his middle twenties, older than many of the men, and the insignia on his sleeve marked him as a corporal.
“What did you drive before you took the general?” he asked. “Ambulances?”
“Yes.”
“Then yer’d best get back to ’em. As a volunteer yer can do wot yer like, I s’pose, but that’s w’ere yer needed most, if yer can drive.”
She nodded. It was ridiculous that it should hurt this much. If she thought about it honestly, she knew perfectly well that she could not go on driving a general around. It was a man’s job. “Thank you,” she added absently.
“Yer all right, love?” the corporal asked with concern. “You look a bit—dunno—off.”
She forced herself to smile at him. “Yes, thank you. It’s just funny—coming back. You have to get used to the smell again.”
“In’t that the truth! ’Ere, sit down a mo’. Wally! Get ’er a quick brandy, eh? We’d better get ’er right an’ on the road. I couldn’t drive them damn great ambulances, an’ neither could you. We might need ’er—though please Gawd we don’t!”
There was a bark of laughter, and a moment later a glass was put into her hand. The raw spirit burned down her throat, jolting her awake and into sharp attention. She realized their kindness, and felt slightly guilty for acting a lie as to the reason for her lapse. But the truth was secret—it had to be. She did not want to recognize it herself. She thanked them, finished the brandy,