As I Lay Dying

Five

He nods and pulls a hip flask from his pocket, taking a long sip at it before passing it to me. I cough as the heat of the whiskey goes down. Somewhere beneath us in the trench a lone voice starts singing and it's not long before others join in.

"You're lucky actually. I've never known it be this long without battle, it's been a good few weeks since you got here and we haven't done anything. I was over the top on my second day."

"Yeah... You've been here two years and you're still alright." He smiles, some of his customary cheerfulness returning.

I look down at the ground, unwanted images swimming to the front of my mind.

Blood oozing slowly across thick, sticky mud. Screams, oh god, those screams haunt my nightmares. Fear, utter, stomach clawing terror. The smell of death, the lifeless eyes that stare at you with their mocking message; you may have survived this time but you'll never forget.

"Harry..." Jimmy's awkward tone pulls me back from the brink of insanity. "One of the lads was saying last night he didn't want to die a virgin." A flush grows in his already ruddy cheeks.

"Ha. That's why so many of the French prostitutes have grown rich, half the men in the medical bay have some sort of sexually transmitted..." I trail off as I catch sight of the look on his face and a wave of understanding hits me. "Didn't you and Ellen ever...?"

He shakes his head with an awkward laugh.

"You're bloody joking aren't you? She's as religious as the pope himself, I'm not even allowed to touch her backside until I've put a ring on her finger." He grins.

"Well that's another reason for you to get home then isn't it?" I laugh.

"Yeah. Have... Er... Did you ever, you know?"

"Have sex?"

"Well. Yeah." He coughs at my bluntness and I have to hide a smile.

I nod and I can tell he's surprised.

"But you weren't married!" He protests.

"We were more than married Jimmy. We were in love."

***

1912

There's something utterly magical about snow.

Despite the fact that it is a nuisance for me, my work is harder in the biting cold of winter; there is nothing like gazing out of a window at a thick layer of snow, illuminated by the moon and stars. Nothing so wondrous to the eye as thick, fluffy flakes drifting down to lie on their sparkling bed.

The master told the few of us servants who don't live in the main house that we should stay in the main hall near the big fires, this winter promises to be one of the harshest on record.

I didn't take his offer, so long as I have enough wood for my fire I like the beauty and solitude of this time of year.

So I find myself, banking up my fire and drinking a hot tea, passing my evenings reading or writing. Christmas is coming soon and I'm writing a poem for Evie... It's all I can give her, I have not wealth to buy necklaces or rings, the only jewels I can give her are words.