It had rained for two months without stopping by the time the much-delayed push began. The one Laura thought would never happen. By then, the ground was a viscous substance in which men swam and slipped and frequently drowned. Her patients came to her more mud than flesh, and already gangrenous.
“And you were in a casualty clearing station?” said Mary.
Laura said, “I was at Brandhoek. The army put an ammunition depot right near us. They said Fritz wouldn’t bomb it, for fear of hitting the hospital.”
Mary snorted. Laura was glad that Mary understood, that she didn’t have to explain. She never spoke of Brandhoek.
“And you want to go back,” said Mary. “At tea, you said you didn’t. What changed?”
Laura said, “There is some confusion over how my brother died. I want to understand.”
“You can write letters.”
“I have tried. But I’ll get answers in person that no one would ever give me in a letter.”
“They might take you back into the army.”
“Your time isn’t your own in the army.”
“So you expect me to get you into the forbidden zone, and then bid you farewell while you go haring about the countryside after news of your brother? No, thank you.”
Laura said, “I can work, Mrs. Borden, and I will. I assume I’d have leave now and again? I will ask my questions then.”
“Call me Mary, for God’s sake. I couldn’t pay you.”
“All expenses covered, then,” said Laura. “And we shall be liberal in our definition of expenses. I’m sure your openhanded American donors will fund my hire.”
“I spent all their money on supplies,” said Mary. But she still hadn’t said no.
Laura waited.
“Pim said your parents burned in the explosion. Are you deranged with grief?”
“No,” said Laura.
“How bad is your leg really?”
“Healed.”
“Let me see it, then.”
“It’s not your business.”
“It is, if you’re going to be staffing my hospital. I will see for myself.”
It was a small humiliation. Petty revenge for Laura’s behavior at tea, or perhaps Mary was testing her resolve. Lauraknewthat, and still she almost stood up, walked out. Why stay? Because she’d dreamed of Agatha Parkey sayingYour brother is alive? Was the girl her parents had formed still alive inside her, believing that the end of the world must come with miracles?
Or must she just spend her life kneeling at the altar of her ghosts?
She unfastened her garter and rolled down the stocking. With her skirt hiked up to the knee on one side, the scar showed clear in the pitiless firelight. It was nothing compared to what many men lived with. But it was ugly, the tissue stiff and red and twisted, a clean scoop on one side as though a giant had gone at her with a spoon. A few inches higher or lower and Laura would never have walked again.
Mary looked frowning from the scar to Laura’s face. Then she sat back and said, “Very well. The ship is theGothic,departing on the first. I hope I don’t regret this, Iven.”
Two days after Mary agreedto take Laura with her to Europe, Pim wrote a note asking Laura to come by. Laura went after her shift and found, to her surprise, that Pim had got out a trunk, and that her bed was strewn with the most extraordinary collection of items—a mackintosh, winter stockings, an evening gown in mauve silk. A good flowered hat, a knit cap. Blouses.
“Pim, what on earth?” said Laura. “Are you going on holiday?”
“No.” Pim looked pleased. “I’m coming with you and Mary.”
