Free Ship of Brides by Jojo Moyes Page A

knowing smirk between Nurse Fisher and the two girls beside her. She glanced at Sister Mackenzie, and realised that she had seen it too. Sister Mackenzie’s hands had tightened on her two bags. She stiffened, then said quietly, ‘I can’t stay, Private. I’ve got to board the hospital ship.’
    ‘Ah, will you not take a drink with us, Sister? A last drink?’
    ‘Sister Mackenzie has work to do, Sergeant O’Brien,’ the matron said firmly.
    ‘Ah, come on. At least shake my hand.’
    The girl took a step forward, then went to shake the hands of those men who proffered them. The music had started up again, deflecting attention from her, but even as she moved, Audrey Marshall noted the narrowed eyes of the other nurses, the deliberate turning away of several men. She walked behind her, making sure she wasn’t kept at each bed for too long.
    ‘You’ve meant the world to me, Sister.’ Sergeant O’Brien held her pale hand in both of his, voice tearful with drink.
    ‘Nothing that any of us wouldn’t have done,’ she said, a little curtly.
    ‘Sister! Sister, come here.’ Private Lerwick was reckoning. Audrey saw the girl register him, and then the number of people she would have to pass to get to him. ‘Come on, Sister Mackenzie. You made me a promise, remember?’
    ‘I really don’t think—’
    ‘You wouldn’t break a promise to a wounded man, would you, Sister?’ Private Lerwick’s expression was comically hangdog.
    The men on each side of him joined in chorus: ‘Come on, Sister, you promised.’
    Then the room went very quiet. Audrey Marshall saw the girls step back as they waited to see what Sister Mackenzie would do.
    Finally, unable to bear the girl’s dilemma any longer, she intervened: ‘Private, I’ll thank you to get back into your bed.’ She walked briskly across to where he sat. ‘Promise or no promise, you’re not ready to be out of it.’
    ‘Aw, Matron. Give a guy a break.’
    She was lifting his leg back on to the mattress when a voice said, ‘It’s all right, Matron.’ She turned to see the girl standing behind her, face bright. Only the fluttering of her pale hands betrayed her discomfort. ‘I did promise.’
    Audrey felt, rather than saw, the gaze of the other women and, despite the heat, felt her skin prickle. ‘If you’re sure, Sister.’
    She was a tall girl so she had to stoop as she helped the young man to a sitting position, and then, arm under his shoulders in a long-practised manoeuvre, hauled him to his feet.
    For a moment, no one spoke. Then Sergeant Levy yelled for music, and someone jigged the gramophone back into life.
    ‘Go on, Scottie,’ said the man behind her. ‘Just don’t step on her toes.’
    ‘I couldn’t dance before,’ he joked, as they moved slowly on to the sandy area that had passed as the dance floor. ‘Two pounds of shrapnel in my knees isn’t going to help none.’
    They began to dance. ‘Ah, Sister,’ Audrey heard him say, ‘you don’t know how long I’ve been wishing for this.’
    Those men still nearby broke out a spontaneous round of applause. Audrey Marshall found she was clapping too, moved by the sight of the frail man standing tall and proud, beaming to have achieved his modest ambition: to stand on a dance floor again with a woman in his arms. She watched the girl, braving her own discomfort for him, rangy arms tensed to support him if he lost his balance. A kind girl. A good nurse.
    That was the saddest part of it.
    The music stopped. Private Lerwick sank gratefully into his bed, still grinning despite his obvious exhaustion. Audrey felt her heart sink, knowing that the simple act of kindness would count against the young nurse. Knowing that, as the girl searched with her eyes for her bags, she was aware of it too. ‘I’ll see you out, Sister,’ she said, wanting to save her further exposure.
    Private Lerwick was still hanging on to her hand. ‘We know what you’ve all done, coming here in your time off . . . You’ve