1916
Jimmy listens in silence as I finish talking.
"I'm sorry Harry." His voice is thick. "No wonder you're so sad. Even if you'd got to hold her, just once."
We sit quietly. I don't want to talk about all the hours I've dreamt about holding my daughter in my arms, the kisses I wished I'd pressed to her tiny face.
"Did you ever see Evelyn again?"
"No." I inhale to deeply at my cigarette and give a strangled cough. Jimmy raises a huge hand to pat me heavily on the back.
"Jeez, are you trying to break my spine?" I laugh at the accidental force behind his hand.
Before he can answer, we become aware of a commotion a little further down the trench. A young soldier I know by sight is running, looking almost as if he's trying not to cry.
It's fairly common knowledge amongst us that he's only 15, he lied about his age to sign up a couple of months ago after his brother had died. God knows how he got away with it, he barely looks 13.
"Steady..." Jimmy grabs him as he makes to run past us. "What's the matter lad?"
He stares up at Jimmy, utterly terrified.
"Cat got your tongue?"
Before the boy can speak, Private Goodham runs round the corner, accompanied by another sly looking soldier. The boy whimpers and pulls closer to Jim.
"What's going on here?" Jimmy glares down at Goodham.
"Nothing. We was just looking for the boy." Goodhams grin slips off his face as he eyes up Jimmy's huge body.
"Well, it happens that he's my sisters kid." Jimmy lies easily. "Any problem you have with him can come to me. What's happened?"
"Oh it's nothing." Goodham slyly eyes Jimmy for a second. Jims obvious strength wins out and he shoots him an ingratiating smile. "We like to look for the kid that's all, isn't it Pauly?"
He nudges the solider next to him and he nods gruffly in agreement.
"Well there's no need. Any problems with him and you come to me, right?" Jim says roughly.
Goodham nods quickly and disappears back down the trench.
"He's trouble that one." I sigh, sitting back down.
"You're not wrong." Jimmy sits heavily next to me, gently extracting Pepper from his pocket. "Sit down kid, we don't bite."
The boy is looks nervously between me and Jim before sinking down opposite us.
"Blimey, you're wet behind the ears aren't you? How old are you, 10?" Jimmy shakes his head.
"I'm 18." The boy answers shakily.
"Right. And I'm the bloody King of England." Jimmy retorts.
"What's your name?" I ask the nervous looking lad.
"Private Thomas Neeson." The boy whispers.
"Well then Tommy, looks like you've got yourself a couple of friends." Jimmy smiles kindly. "Just try and stay away from Goodham, he's a bad sort."
Private Neeson nods eagerly, throwing Jimmy an shy glance. He doesn't leave his side for the entire day and when out night watch comes Jimmy has to ask Luke to take care of him so he can leave him behind.
"You're old enough to drink, right?" Luke grins cheekily.
"Just bloody keep him out of trouble." Jimmy sighs.
We walk down the trench together, Jimmy's arm casually flung across my shoulders as we chat.
It's dark already and much, much further down the line sudden brightness flares, followed by loud screams. A grenade has found it's mark.
"Poor buggers." Jimmy shakes his head sadly.
"Remember your first night?" I say suddenly, remarking at the change in him. Jimmy was like a gigantic version of poor Tommy when he first got here.
"Yeah. Reckon I wouldn't have coped to well if I hadn't of met you Harry."
I just laugh as we continue our way. My mind is wandering though. Without doubt, Jimmy is the best friend I've ever had, I love him like a brother. I have never been so open with anyone, apart from Evelyn.
War has been horrific. I thought I understood pain, but I didn't know the meaning of the word until I saw friends die before my eyes.
But Jimmy has been a silver lining. We'll never be so close to anyone as we are to each other and I thank god that I met him.
Finally we reach our station. It's active tonight, medics running down the trench, that damn grenade has caused a lot of damage.
It's the early hours of the morning before Jimmy turns conversation round again.
"So that was it... Evelyn just left you for that other fella." Jimmy says softly.
"Yes." I stare out across the trench. "Yes she did."
***
1914
Evelyn
~~~~~
I hate him.
I hate the weight of his body as he forces himself into me, grunting like a pig. I hate the thick hands that grab my breast with a hard twist, the cruel mouth that whispers disgusting words in my ear and bites my skin until he draws blood.
I try not to cry out, he takes perverse pleasure in my pain, it excites him.
Instead I focus on a small patch of peeling paintwork on the wall behind him, tears swimming across my vision with every hateful thrust.
I try not to remember, the hands of the one before him, the one who loved me so gently and tenderly. Who kissed and caressed my skin as if it was the most precious silk, who loved me so deeply that it pained his heart.
I can picture his long fingered hands, his lean, hard sunlit body and soft, full pink lips that laid gentle kisses across me. I imagine what he'd do, what he'd say if he could see me now.
A strangled sob leaves my chest and Robert pins me down harder, grasping my hair tightly.
Finally he's finished and with a low grunt his body falls heavily on my bruised one. He stays there for a minute, panting heavily, suffocating me under his weight before rolling off me abruptly. I turn on to my side, curling my knees up. My body aches but I dare not stand to clean myself until he's gone.
"I've made an appointment for you with Dr Blake. Tomorrow at 2."
"Why?" I turn to see him wrapping his bath robe around himself.
I supposed he's handsome, extremely so. Everybody says it, I'm the envy of many girls, but I've come to hate him so much that to my eyes, his face is grotesque, hard and cruel.
"Because..." He inhales on his cigarette as he stands over me. "It's been 6 months since your little bastard died and you haven't fallen pregnant. As my wife it is your duty to provide children... Although perhaps my child does not want to grow in the stomach of a whore." He smiles lightly.
I stare down at my bed, thinking about the small illegal mixture I take every day to prevent pregnancy.
He leaves the room, thankfully we have separate bedrooms and my mind begins to drift.
I'm so miserable. So unhappy. I feel there aren't words for my pain. Harry was the light, the purest light of my life, I never dreamt I would be without him. I thought I could at least live with our daughter.
Adeline. She was beautiful. I wasn't allowed to feed her myself but I sat by the wetnurse and watched her tiny pink hands curl and uncurl, like tiny delicate starfish. Those three days were bliss. I laid her on the bed, watching as her dark blue eyes tried to focus on my face as I sang to her. I can't say she looked like me or Harry, she was to tiny to tell. Her body was a heavy, soft warmth in my arms and I ache without it.
Three precious days. Then she passed in her sleep, no warning, she was just gone. I cried until Robert slapped me, but no one could calm my hysteria. It took me weeks to learn to force it down, bury it behind a mask.
I could have handled my marriage for her sake, but without her I was a shell, there was no happiness left in me.
I wonder who told Harry, who departed the news to him, probably in an offhand way, not realising how deeply it would wound him. I'd been planning on taking Adeline to the estate so that he could look upon her, hold her in his arms if only for a short while. I owed him that at least.
Now it was all gone. Perhaps the worst thing was Harry thinking I'd betrayed him, I had lied and never loved him at all. The memory of him kneeling before me, begging for the love that was already his tore at my heart.
What choice did I have?
It wasn't what I planned. My plan was to tell Harry about the baby, run away with him as far as we could go. I threw myself into pretending to enjoy socialising, attending parties, flirting with Robert. I was biding my time. Just waiting 3 more weeks for my birthday and a portion of my trust fund to be paid, then we could go. It pained me to see Harry watching me, misunderstanding, but I thought soon I could explain and wash away his pain.
My maid had reported it my mother. The slight change in my figure, the lack of monthly bleeding.
It was the first time in my life that my father had raised a hand to me, screaming at the disgrace I'd brought on him and demanding I reveal the fathers name. He beat me so soundly that I feared I would lose the child.
Finally, my mother stepped in and half dragged me up the stairs, threatening and cursing me to tell them who he was. But I wouldn't. They could have whipped the flesh from my body before I betrayed Harry.
Their plan was to have me 'visit' family in France, give birth to the child in secret and have it adopted before anyone could learn of my shame.
Which was where Robert stepped in. I don't know how he found out, although at an educated guess I'd say he managed to get intimate with my maid, many secrets have passed across pillows in moments of passion and I think mine was no different.
My father couldn't believe when he offered to marry me and legitimise my baby. Robert was a lord, a man with money and estates of his own. True, my family had more land, more wealth... But for a Lord to offer to legitimise and allow another mans bastard child to become his heir was unheard of.
Of course, now I know Robert was desperate. Desperately in debt, about to lose his estate if he didn't marry well. He simply didn't have time to wait for me to come back from France. In fact, I think he could scarcely believe his luck that an opportunity to ask for my hand had presented itself so quickly.
His only stipulation was that the child could inherited parts of the estate, rather than all of it. At the age of 5 it would be sent to live with my parents to make way for Roberts rightful heir, perhaps they could publicly say that my mother wished for company, or the child was troublesome...
I sat as they discussed this calmly, as if I wasn't there and had no choice.
But I wasn't going to let it happen. I was going to play along then run away with Harry at the earliest opportunity.
Finally the meeting finished and I ran down to Harry's cottage, already 2 hours late.
The memory of it pains me still. He stood awkwardly, in his Sunday best clothes. So different to the pompous, rich people I had just left, but trying to emulate a world he didn't understand.
I'd expected a poem but instead he'd bought me expensive perfume. It broke my heart, how he was trying to reach between worlds with no clue of how to do it. How he was trying to change, but he was so confused at the reason why. He didn't understand that I loved him just for being Harry.
I could see in his eyes how much he wanted me to be happy, now he was willing to do anything to please me. I remember thinking what my father would do to him if he ever found out and I almost hated myself for loving him, for putting him in that position.
Afterwards I tore myself from his body for the last time and ran back to the manor, adjusting my hair breathlessly. My clothes were in disarray, my lips still swollen from Harry's tender kisses.
A figure stepped from the shadows and grabbed my arm.
Robert.
"Evelyn." He smiled but it didn't reach his cold flints of eyes. "I must tell you about I walk I took today."
"I don't have time right now." I said coolly. He grabbed my hand tightly and twisted it forcefully behind my back, pushing my head against the brick wall. I gasped in shock, feeling a hot trickle of blood slide down my cheek.
"My love, a good wife must always have time for her husband." He laughed grimly as I struggled to pull away.
"Today I decided to take a walk round the estate. A man likes to get to know the possession that will soon be his. I was just at the edge of the estate when I spotted the most charming little cottage..."
I stopped struggling immediately and my breath hitched in my chest.
"Ah, I can see I have your attention now. So there I was, wandering past, when I heard the strangest noises, rather intimate noises from an open window. Well, naturally I decided to investigate... And what should I happen to see but my darling fiancé with her legs spread and a servant between them pounding into her..."
I could barely breathe but Robert just gave a low laugh.
"I suppose that answers the question of your bastards parentage."
"Please..." I whispered, tears running down my face. "I love..."
"Oh you love him. I'm afraid women of your birth do not marry for love, nor do they open their legs for servants."
My mind began to whir. Surely he would call off the engagement, no man in his right mind would marry a women he'd caught sleeping with a servant. While he ran to tell my father, I would run back down to the cottage. Unfortunately, all of my money was in my bedroom, but Harry had a small amount saved. There would be a search party, we'd have to leave immediately-
"You're getting ideas aren't you? The problem is, despite you being a whore, you are a wealthy whore and I need what you can give me. We will be married within the month, you will be confided to your rooms until then. If you do decide to run off, now or in the future with your little servant boy, there isn't a policeman in country who will not be looking for you. Every port will be warned to look out for you, every town will search for you and your filthy slave boy will be hung for kidnapping. Do I make myself clear?"
I couldn't speak. I fell to my knees with my hands covering my face but he yanked my head up by my hair.
"You will give me heirs. Although our marriage will be one of business, I can see by your performance earlier that I've got myself a thirsty little slut. And if I ever, ever catch you in that position again, I'll beat you until you'll wish that you'd never been born."
He released my head and before I had time to flinch away, he slapped me with such force my head snapped to the side.
I was trapped. I had no choice.
The following month leading up to my wedding was agony.
The worst decision I made was to see Harry again. I couldn't help myself, I had to have just one last image of him, one last caress.
The night before my wedding they were all drunk and I dared to slip away.
Harry realised I was pregnant. So I had to break his heart afresh by lying to him I loved Robert. I
knew Harry well enough, he wouldn't care about Roberts threats, he wouldn't even consider the danger to himself to save me and his child.
I'm sure Harry waited for news of Adelines birth, and wept bitter tears at her passing. The image of him, alone in his small cottage, betrayed, hurt and crying alone was burned into my brain.
2 months after Adeline died Robert allowed me to return to my childhood home for a single night to visit my parents and I resolved that, no matter how, I'd find some way to see Harry.
The journey passed to slowly, each minute before I saw his face again was agonisingly long.
Within an hour of my return my father causally informed my that Harry was gone, he had been one of the first to sign up for the war that had recently broken out on the continent.
Gentle, soft Harry. With his poetic words and kind nature, who had always been a pacifist had become a soldier. I knew he'd done it to get away from memories, from me. Replacing once hell with another and carrying my harsh words in his heart.
For all of our promises, all of our plans... He was at war and I was living my own battle in my marriage.
When all we ever wanted was each other.
It seems to me that life can be very cruel.
***
Dedicated to the lovely Alexandra1d66