Page 21 of These Old Lies

“Did I pass muster, Corporal?” Charlie looked up to Ned watching him read. “You’ve developed a reputation this afternoon as a notoriously difficult editor.”

Of course, it had to be this posh bastard. Who else would actually succeed in being poetic? “Someone clearly has an education, I’ll say that. Would a woman who fell in love with Henderson want something like this, though?”

Ned laughed. “A fair critique.” He stepped closer to Charlie, such that they were standing side by side, facing out towards the latest shelling practice. “Not the first love letter I’ve written, but it is the first I’ve written to a woman.” Ned paused. “It might be the first letter I’ve written to any woman who wasn’t my mother, actually.”

Charlie shook his head in disbelief. “No?”

Ned shrugged. “No sisters, and an all-boys boarding school. By the time I got to university, I realised I had no inclination in that direction, and it didn’t seem worth the effort. What would I even say?”

“You talk about family, the weather, what’s in the newspaper, whatever you would talk to anyone else about.”

What would it be like to go through life without women? Women had surrounded Charlie’s whole childhood. Not only his sisters and mother, but the clients at the stores, the other shopkeepers on the street, cousins, aunts.

“Women are fun, the same way blokes are fun. They know how to have a good laugh. Make interesting observations. Smell nice too. It’s not all about attraction, you know. You’re friends with plenty of men you don’t want to fuck, aren’t you?”

“I honestly never really thought about it before.” Charlie let himself have a moment to enjoy the way the light breeze ruffled Ned’s black hair. “Maybe that’s something I can do after the war. Make a friend with a woman.”

Charlie laughed before he could help himself.

???

Charlie tried not to hold his breath as Henderson read through the draft letter copied out in perfect bookkeeper’s handwriting by Matthews.

Henderson looked up at Charlie like he had saved his life. “This… this might work.”

Relief. Charlie had no idea when he had started to care so much about the damn letter. “You’ll still need to put some of your own Henderson shine on it, but I think this draft is the best of what everyone has to say.”

Henderson chewed his lip. “I’m a bricklayer, what do I know about asking a girl to marry me?”

“Trust Betty to know the man she fell in love with.” Charlie thought about the advice he had given Ned, to see women as partners, not like a civilization from a faraway land. “If she chose John Henderson, it wasn’t because she wanted pretty words. She wants the man who knows how to do an honest day’s work to give her his last name.”

Henderson nodded and folded up the piece of paper before slipping it carefully into the inside of his jacket. “I’ve something to ask you. If she does say yes, that is.”

“She will,” Charlie said immediately.

“If she does,” Henderson continued, “I was hoping you would stand as my witness? I guess we will get married in London, I don’t have much family, but Betty’s people are in Holloway.” Charlie was struck by what a small world it was; Holloway was only a few miles from his father’s shop.

“It would be my honour.” Charlie clapped his friend on the back. “And I look forward to meeting the infamous Elizabeth Townsend, the woman brave enough to marry Sergeant John Henderson.”

???

The next day was even worse than the practice shellfire. Charlie was just finishing up a full day digging latrines when he heard the public-school accent of his lieutenant. “A word, Corporal?”

As if Charlie had a choice.

With a short nod, Charlie followed Pemberton into the empty YMCA tent. Pemberton lit a small gas lamp. “Sit.”

Charlie took a spot on the bench. After hours of digging, his body screamed for bed, but sitting was at least better than having to stand at attention. Through the fog of his tiredness, Charlie realised he hadn’t spoken. “How can I be of assistance, Lieutenant?”

Pemberton always liked it when the men were formal with him.

Pemberton reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask. “Care for some gin?”

Then, as if Charlie had agreed, he pulled out two small cups and poured gin in each. “Drink up then.”

Still watching the man across from him, Charlie took a small sip. The burn in his throat followed by the blossoming warmth in his stomach was welcome, despite the company.

Pemberton continued the one-sided conversation. “Looks like we might get some sunshine for the rest of the week.”