We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [59]
Erica’s face hardened as her anger rose in reaction to the whole tragic, ridiculous turn of events. “Don’t be stupid! You know the answer to that already—we can’t spare extra men to guard Germans from our own soldiers.”
“Then possibly a German prisoner, one not wounded too badly to walk, could have gotten out and gone looking for someone vulnerable, like one of the nurses?” Judith pointed out. “Maybe one who was childish enough to taunt them, or try flirting?”
“I suppose so. But the other prisoners would have seen it. They’re in there like sardines in a tin.”
Judith thought about it for several moments. Ideas raced through her mind. It would be easier for all of them if it had been one of the Germans. It was going to be bitterly painful to have to acknowledge that a British soldier could have done such a thing. Worse, it had to be someone they knew, because there wasn’t anyone they didn’t know, or had not fought beside, shared rations with, jokes, loneliness. They all wanted it to be a German.
But that might also be more difficult to prove. And might they want it enough to be tempted into making it look that way, whether they were sure of it or not? Nothing was clear enough. That was a sickening thought, but once it was in her mind she could not get rid of it.
“Describe Sarah to me,” she said instead, picking up the blankets again and resuming folding them. They were rough to the touch and smelled stale. “What was she really like? I only saw her a few times when we were helping the wounded inside, and she came over to give a hand, or when she gave us tea or food.”
Erica hesitated.
“Come on!” Judith said urgently, her patience slipping. “How was she in a crisis? What did she talk about if you had a really sick man and you had to sit up all night with him? What did she think was funny? What did she cry over? Was she saving money for anything? Did she write to anyone? Who did she like, or not? Who didn’t like her?”
“What on earth can that have to do with who killed her?” Erica was making a clearly visible effort to keep her own patience. “Judith, for God’s sake! Nobody’s saying it, but everybody’s thinking it! Some man went crazy and raped her!” She shuddered violently. “It wasn’t just a quarrel where somebody slapped her too hard. You’re talking as if it were all reasonable. It isn’t!” Now her voice was growing uncontrollably louder. “Reasonable people fight sometimes. If they’re men they might even hurt each other badly. But this wasn’t human. There was blood everywhere. It was like a wild animal!”
“Foxes do that to chickens sometimes,” Judith replied. “But animals don’t kill for hate, and they don’t indulge in years of organized slaughter of their own kind, leaving nothing but mud and ruins. This was very definitely human.”
Erica put down the blankets she was holding. The lamplight flickered in the draft through the tent flap. It danced on her face, accentuating the lines of strain. “I’m only answering your questions because they’ve arrested your brother,” she said, her voice shaking a little. “Sarah was all right in a crisis, pretty stupid the rest of the time. I never sat up all night with her. I took care to avoid it. According to Allie and Moira, she talked about men. And as to what she thought was funny, it was pretty juvenile: flirting, teasing, making people look silly. There was a cruel streak in her. I think it was partly because she wasn’t respected very much, and she knew it.” Erica turned away and her shoulders under the gray dress were stiff, as if she disliked herself for what she had said.
“Underneath the laughing and the flirting, she was pretty desperate,” she went on quietly. “She didn’t have a lot to go home to. She wasn’t a bad nurse, but she didn’t do it because she loved it. It was a job. What did she cry over? Nothing. I never saw her cry.” Her face tightened, and she kept avoiding Judith’s eyes. “Now that I think it over a bit harder, I think possibly she didn’t dare to, in case she couldn’t stop. Who did she like? Men, any men