“When my father comes home we hear something of what is going on. They are still harrying poor old Asquith.”
“He won’t last much longer.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“The only good thing would be to finish off this war and get back to peace.”
That evening Robert left us to join his family.
“I shall see you in two days’ time,” he said. “Make sure that you keep the day free.”
“I might even get Miss Carruthers to let me off lessons.”
“I always forget you are a schoolgirl, Lucinda. But it is not for much longer, is it?”
When he had gone I fell to thinking of Marcus Merrivale. He, with Robert, was looking forward to the time when I grew up.
I felt honored, and at the same time uneasy. When I was with Robert I knew exactly that it was where I wanted to be; but then, the exhilarating company of Marcus Merrivale was quite intoxicating.
It was Christmas again and then the New Year, 1916. Nothing was going well. It was acknowledged that the plan to capture the Dardanelles had been a failure.
There were some who agreed with Churchill that it was a brilliant idea but that it had been badly carried out.
The Secretary of State for War, Lord Kitchener, had gone out to the Dardanelles to advise withdrawal. There was no hope of victory there and it was a waste of men and ammunition to carry on. And now, in January of that year, the troops from Gallipoli began to arrive back in England.
It was at the end of that month when Uncle Gerald came to see us. He looked older than he had when he left. He told us that the campaign should never have been undertaken.
He played it out at lunch at the table.
“Doomed to fail from the start,” he said. “A lack of surprise, for one thing. They sent us part-time soldiers. We lacked experienced men, and believe me, that’s what was needed for an enterprise like this. There weren’t enough supplies. There was an acute shortage of shells. Asquith must go!”
“Churchill has already gone,” my father reminded him.
“Churchill’s idea was all right. That could have worked. It was the way it was tackled which destroyed us. You see, here we are….” My mother looked apprehensively at his wine glass. “And here…” He swung the cruet into line. “…the Turk.”
For a moment we watched him moving plates and dishes around the table. It did not look in the least like a battlefield to me and I was longing to ask for news of Marcus Merrivale.
“It hasn’t done much for our prestige. This is the beginning of the end for Asquith. Consider our losses, Joel…nearly a quarter of a million men…and many from the Empire. It’s a disaster, Joel. A disaster. I daresay you’ve been hearing about it all in the House.”
“They’ve talked of little else since Kitchener’s verdict.”
“Heads will fall, Joel. Heads will fall.”
“I daresay you are glad to be back, Gerald,” said my mother. “What about Major Merrivale? Is he back with you?”
“They are all coming back. Merrivale was wounded.”
“Wounded!” said my mother. “Badly?”
“Hm. He went straight to the hospital.”
“He could have come here,” said my mother.
“My dear Lucie, I think he was really rather badly hurt.”
My mother bristled and Uncle Gerald relented a little.
“In cases like this,” he said, “they’re taken off to one of the London hospitals.”
“How badly hurt is he?” I asked.
“Oh, he’ll come through. Trust Merrivale for that. But it was a bit more than a sniper’s bullet.”
“Which hospital is he in?” asked my mother.
“I’m not sure.”
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know the details…just that he was a stretcher case.”
I felt sick. I could imagine…a stretcher case. How was he? I wanted to see him.
My mother said, “We have a special interest in him, you know, Gerald, after, he brought Lucinda, Edward and the others out of Belgium.”
“Oh, I know. A great fellow. He’s not at death’s door. Just needs a bit of patching up.”
“You must find out more details and let us know. I think that if he is in a London hospital, the least Lucinda and I can do is visit him, Joel. I don’t forget what he did for Lucinda. Heaven knows what might have happened if he hadn’t looked after her, and we shall always be grateful to you, Gerald, for sending him to look after her.”
“Seemed the best thing to do. He’s a very resourceful fellow. Well, you’d expect that. There’s only one Merrivale.”
“Well, do let us know, Gerald. We’d love to go and see him, wouldn’t we, Lucinda?”
“Yes,” I answered. “We would.”
In his precise way, Uncle Gerald sent the information to us in a few days.
My mother said it was not easy to leave the hospital but under the circumstances she thought it necessary.
Andrée said she would like to come with us. Not that she would accompany us to the hospital, for she was sure three people would be too many, but she wanted to go to London to get some things for Edward.
“Do you remember that musical box he had? It played the Brahms lullaby when it opened. I know he misses it. He was opening a box yesterday and clearly listening. He looked so disappointed because there was no tune.”
“Fancy his remembering all that time,” said my mother. “But it’s a haunting melody and I suppose even a child would be aware of that.”
“It is that and a few other things I should like to get,” said Andrée.
“It seems a good idea,” replied my mother.
So we went.
Marcus was in a ward with several other officers. He was lying on his back and not quite his usual exuberant self; but he grinned at us.
“This is wonderful,” he said. “How good of you to come and see this poor old crock.”
“I don’t think the term applies,” said my mother. “Gerald told us you were improving every day.”
“My progress will leap forward after this visit. Do sit down.”
“Please don’t move,” said my mother.
“It would be rather impossible, I fear. They’ve got me strapped up a bit.”
“How do you feel?”
“Wonderful…because you and Lucinda have come to see me.”
My mother laughed. “I’m serious, Major Merrivale.”
“So am I. And please don’t call me Major.”
“Marcus,” said my mother. “We are so glad that you are home.”
“Does that go for Miss Lucinda also?”
“Of course it does,” I said. “We were worried about you when we heard things were not going well.”
He grimaced. “Something of a shambles, eh? However, it’s brought me home.”
“Where you will be staying for some time,” added my mother.
“That seems very likely.”
“We were disappointed that you did not come to our hospital,” I told him.
“What a pleasure that would have been…worth getting hit for.”
“Oh, don’t say that!” said my mother. “Marchlands is an excellent place for convalescence. The forest, you know. Perhaps later on…”
“You mean I might come to Marchlands? Nothing could help me more to make a speedy recovery.”
“Then we shall do what we can to arrange it. I daresay Gerald could do something. He can fix most things.”
“From henceforth I shall make myself a nuisance here, so that they will be only too glad to get rid of me.”
I did not think that would be the case. It was clear that that inimitable charm worked here as everywhere else and the nurses enjoyed looking after him.
The matron came in while we were there—a stern-faced, middle-aged woman who looked as though she would be capable of keeping a regiment in order—and even she softened and chided him gently because he was getting too excited.