Read Together for Christmas for Free Online Page B

. . . a letter that needed my full attention.’ The doctor looked sadly into Flora’s concerned
face. ‘I’m afraid Wilfred is reported missing in action.’
    Flora took a sharp breath. ‘But when . . .? How?’
    ‘I know nothing more,’ the doctor replied, his voice rough with emotion. ‘But I pray for better news to come.’
    Flora swallowed. A stone seemed to lodge where her heart should be.
    The doctor touched her shoulder. ‘You have done very well today, Flora. Now, off you go and get some rest. I’ll turn out the lights.’
    As she left, Flora thought about Wilfred. Dr Tapper was so proud of his son. At twenty-five, Wilfred was an officer with the British Expeditionary Force. Dr Tapper had told her that Wilfred had
joined up at the outbreak of war. He had sailed to France last September. Flora thought back to the day, a month before Wilfred had left England, when she had met Hilda and Will in Hyde Park. To
the young men on the banks of the Serpentine who were eager to answer Lord Kitchener’s call to arms. Their assumption, like Will’s, was that the war would be over by Christmas. But
Christmas had come and gone and the war continued. Thousands had been slaughtered on the battlefields. Many of those young volunteers would never come home again.
    Closing the heavy surgery door behind her, Flora remembered Will’s letter. There had been no time to read it today. Whatever news Will had written was welcome. Up until the date on the
envelope, Will had been alive and able to write to her.
    Flora settled herself by the unlit fire in the airey and drew out the single sheet of paper, which was addressed to both her and Hilda and dated simply ‘March’.
Flora wondered why there had been a delay in posting. But Will’s news was better than expected, as, at the time of writing, he had still been in England. This both surprised and delighted
her. The longer Will remained in England, the safer he would be. The reason was, she now discovered, that he had fallen sick.
    ‘The inoculations had a very bad effect on me,’ he complained.
    At first, the doctors thought I might be suffering from the measles or some other infectious pox. They at once quarantined me. Dreadful red, itchy spots brought me very
     low. There was no hope of joining the London Regiment who enjoyed exercises on Hackney Marsh. But the rashes wore off eventually, though leaving me quite deflated and confined to the medical
     hut. It was an agony to get myself going again, especially as the roughness of the uniform irritated my skin. I’m determined though. I’ll be ready for our next inspection in two
     days’ time. A friend is posting this letter in the village for me as I am still unable to leave camp. How are things with you and Hilda? Is there anything exciting going on? Life is very
     dull here at Hemsley Camp. But word is, we’re bound for France soon. I can’t wait to join our boys. Take care of yourselves and write when you have time. God bless you both. Your
     soldier, (in waiting), Will.
     
    Flora sank back in the fireside chair where a cup of tea had gone cold at her side. Without a fire, the room held no warmth at all. She shivered, aching for the warmth of her bed. Will, at
least, was safe. But for how long would that state of affairs last? Flora had always believed he wasn’t at all robust. Though tall, he was extremely thin. And such a pallor under the
baker’s flour! To think that a boy as gentle as Will would soon be fighting to kill with a gun or bayonet.
    Falling asleep that night was impossible. First, she saw Will, exposed to the elements in the mud-soaked trenches that the returning troops had described to her. Then her mind went to Polly and
her last, brief gasps for breath as she lay on the couch. Then to Mr Riggs, grieving and desperate for his four remaining children. Lastly, she thought of the doctor himself. Of the moment he had
told her about Wilfred. A warm tear slid slowly from Flora’s eye. He had