Page 29 of These Old Lies

“I will write to his fiancée this evening.” Ned fussed with one of the gas lamps and a dull ball of light surrounded them. “When was the last time you slept?”

Charlie shrugged. Under the table he fingered the small hole in his uniform trousers. He saw the flash of a knife again. Were there poppy petals on his boot?

“You’ll make the dispatches for retrieving those injured men caught in the crater. That showed a lot of bravery, running into enemy fire to make sure your fellow soldiers were safe. Private Gittins is going to survive, although he will lose a leg.”

“I did what any stretcher bearer would.”

“If you want to see it that way.” Ned nodded towards the bench. “Mind if I sit?”

Charlie could only nod. Beside him Ned pulled out paper and pen and began to write while Charlie traced the hole in his uniform.

???

Dear Miss Townsend,

On behalf of the entire 1st London Territorial, I wanted to express my condolences for the loss of Sergeant John Henderson. I cannot claim to have known him well, having only spent time with him on the field, but his absence is already felt acutely by the men of this division. His leadership, right to the end, was fearless, and he embodied all that a country could want from her soldiers; selfless, generous and encouraging. His memory, of his sense of humour and clear-headedness, continues to guide us in Flanders.

I know that these are empty words of comfort at a time of such profound loss. We share in your mourning.

With deepest sympathies,

Lieutenant Edmund Pinsent, Kensington Regiment, 1st London Territorial

???

Dear Elizabeth,

This is not how I wanted to introduce myself to you. I wish it were any way but this. But I promised John I would stand by him on his wedding day, and if I cannot do that, the least I can do is this.

John didn’t suffer; he would want you to know that. It was a single shot, and he went quick. We were able to have a proper Christian burial, with quite a pretty cross that one of the lads fashioned. The chaplain gave a lovely service. Although, knowing John, I think he would have been more proud of the ‘Irish wake’ we held the night before.

I suspect you already know this, but the thing John wanted most in the world was to marry you. I know he died in peace, because I know he loved you. There is no logic to this war, and I struggle to understand how there can be fairness in a world where he did not return to you.

John always wanted to introduce us because my father owns a hat shop off Marylebone High Street. He said your family wasn’t far from there? On my next leave, I would be honoured to stop by and meet you in person.

With deepest condolences.

Yours truly,

Corporal Charles Villiers, Scottish London Regiment, 1st London Territorial

11 What It Could Be

London, July 1923 / Ned

Ned had lost track of how long he had been staring out at the rain streaming down the window’s pane of glass. In the dark, all Ned could make out was the occasional figure passing under the streetlight. To move away from the window was to try to go to bed, and Ned hadn’t been able to sleep for the past week. Not since his birthday.

The argument with Charlie played over and over again in his mind like a gramophone record that wouldn’t stop skipping, emotions washing over him with the memory: the waves of anger at Charlie for refusing to understand how Ned chose to live his life, layered with shame at himself for being so harsh about how Charlie had chosen to live his.

It was only when Ned realised that the rain could not possibly be falling in the hallway outside his flat that he shook himself out of his daze and went to see who was knocking at his door.

Of all the disturbances he could have imagined, Charlie standing on the other side of the door, puddles forming beneath him on the parquet floor, was at the bottom of the list.

“Good evening, please come in.” Politeness provided Ned with the script while a dozen questions danced through Ned’s mind. Did Charlie want to continue their fight? Definitively end their friendship?

“Actually, I wanted to see if you would come with me.” Charlie's voice was calm, but his hands were in tight fists by his sides.

There was no good reason for Ned to follow Charlie out into the rain in the middle of the night, just as there had been no good reason for him to have slipped his card to Charlie a few months ago in the hat shop. Ned was dressed in a loose shirt and trousers, hardly appropriate for striding out into the London rain, never mind to be seen by society. He reached into his closet. “Let me grab my coat and umbrella.”