We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [74]
“Were you?” Moira’s eyes opened wider. “Who do you like, then?”
Lizzie shook her head. “I am speaking generally.”
Judith looked at her, not just at her face but also the angle of her shoulders and body, the slightly awkward way she sat on the ammunition box, as if maintaining her balance with an effort. She didn’t know that Schenckendorff was important; she probably hadn’t even known his name before the evidence implicated him. Why was she not as relieved as everyone else? Surely she had not thought she knew something or suspected something about one of their own men? If so, how could she have allowed Matthew to be blamed, and said nothing? To whom could she possibly owe a loyalty like that?
Moira was still talking, rattling on about going home once all the wounded had been evacuated, what it would be like in peacetime again, which hospital she would find work at in England. Lizzie was obviously not listening to her.
Judith finished her tea and stood up. “Let’s go and clean up the theater while there’s a chance,” she said to Lizzie. “I’ll help you.”
Lizzie rose a little stiffly. “Thanks, but don’t you have to do maintenance or servicing on your ambulance?”
“Not yet,” Judith said firmly. “The theater’ll probably be needed first anyway.” She led the way, and Lizzie caught up with her. It was a warm bright day with only a hint of chill in the air. At home, late October was one of Judith’s favorite times of the year, with its rich, heart-aching beauty of wind-riven skies, stooks gold in the fields, wood smoke, blazing color in the leaves, bright berries. Here it was like a harvest aborted, the barren earth too full of blood to bear the fruits of summer.
The Operating tent was deserted, the surgeons and orderlies either with critical patients or taking a brief respite, snatching sleep or some kind of food.
As soon as the flap was closed, Judith turned to Lizzie. She had no time for subtlety. She liked Lizzie better and better each time she saw her, and she was perfectly sure that Joseph loved her, which mattered far more. Now she was also intensely grateful to her for her courage and decisiveness in going to Jacobson and getting Matthew released.
“What is it?” she asked bluntly. “Everyone else is thrilled that Jacobson has arrested a German, but you’re not. Is there someone else you’re afraid of?”
Lizzie lifted her chin and stared back in surprise and complete denial. “No! If I knew anything like that, don’t you think I’d have told you when they were blaming Matthew? I’d have grasped at any other answer rather than tell him about Hodges.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry,” Judith said immediately. “But something is wrong. Everybody else is relieved, and you look as if it’s worse. What is it?” She was aware the instant she had said it that she was being intrusive. Nothing gave her the right or excuse to demand answers to what might be a very private grief.
Lizzie turned away and began to tidy up the theater, moving soiled dishes and swabs, picking up bandages and pieces of bloody cloth cut away from a wound. All this would have to be done before they could even consider cleaning the blood off the floor. “Perhaps you’d fetch some water,” she asked, head still averted, watching what she was doing. “If you can find anything fit to use. I’ll have this ready by the time you get back.”
It was dismissal. She was not going to discuss the subject. She kept on picking up, tidying, folding. She did not meet Judith’s eyes at all.
Judith obeyed because she recognized that she was not going to receive an answer, and pressing any further would make an enemy where she wanted a friend. She went looking for water. It did not have to be especially clean—it would only be swilled around the worst of the blood and mud on the floor. Nothing dropped could possibly be used again without sterilizing anyway.
She walked along the boards deep in thought. Why would Lizzie not confide in her? They had spoken openly before. Even if briefly, it had been honestly. The only answer that came to