We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [69]
Judith felt a sense of gratitude that was almost like a physical warmth. All she could say was a simple “Thank you.” She would have to find some way of telling Lizzie how much it meant later on.
“Hodges,” Cavan answered. They were standing in the Pre-operation tent. He had just come on duty after a brief rest. In busy times the surgeons in casualty clearing stations worked eight hours on and four hours off. That way several of them could keep two or three operating tables working all the time. Cavan was freshly shaved and looked better than Judith had seen him for a few days. “He’ll be all right. It was actually not nearly as bad as it looked. I think he was shocked more than anything.”
“Punch Fuller brought him in?” Judith asked.
“Yes. He was in a pretty bad state.” Cavan’s face twisted with pity. “Poor little devil’s only fifteen. Had his birthday a week ago. His best friend was just ripped to pieces by a shell. Couldn’t find enough of him to bury.” He said the words clearly, but his shoulders were tight, and the muscles of his neck stood out like cords. “Hodges was barely hurt, only a cut on his thigh,” he went on. “Flesh wound, painful, but it’ll heal.”
Judith was just about to ask if she could speak to the boy, then caution stopped her. Cavan had to know Matthew was her brother, and that she would do anything she could to free him. She should be more oblique, possibly even leave it to Lizzie. “When was that?” she asked instead.
She saw the instant flash of understanding and sorrow in Cavan’s face. “It won’t help, Judith. Fuller got here just after four, and I know that time’s right.”
“Are you absolutely certain?” She was aware that it was futile even as she said it, but it was fear that drove her rather than reason. “How can you be? You were very busy. Do you watch the clock? It wasn’t change of shift.”
“No, of course I don’t watch the clock. It wasn’t change of my shift, but it was of the guards on the German prisoners, and they’re pretty regular. It was just as Benbow and Eames came off and Turner and Culshaw went on.”
“You saw all of them?”
He hesitated. “Actually I saw Eames over by the Resuscitation tent, and he made some remark about it being change of duty. I went back in a moment later and Punch Fuller arrived with Hodges. I know what your brother said, but Fuller couldn’t have passed that way from the lines carrying a wounded man. I’m sorry.”
Judith wanted to argue, at least offer some other reasonable explanation, but she could not think of one. In the end, she turned away without saying anything at all.
Punch Fuller had gone back up to the front, and she had to wait an hour before Benbow and Eames were on duty again. Every minute dragged by as she grew more and more frightened. She filled the time with petty errands, never sitting still. The wind blew up harder from the east, carrying rain with it, and the gray sky leached all color from the earth. There was nothing in sight except mud and withered tree stumps, the ungainly angles of tents and the irregular pools in old craters, pockmarked by the wind.
Finally the hour was over and she saw them coming on duty, changing places with Culshaw and Turner. As soon as the patrol was handed over, she went first to Eames. She had tried to work out some clever way of introducing the subject, but he would know why she was asking, whatever she said. Perhaps complete honesty was best. It would at least save time and the wasted energy of trying to lie.
They were standing in the lee of the Treatment tents, the wind rattling in the canvas. A nurse walked past them twenty feet away, her feet slithering in the mud.
“Do you remember coming off duty the night Sarah Price was killed?” Judith asked Eames after reminding him who she was.
He looked