Free Harvest of War by Hilary Green Page A

on the edge of the bed to recover from spells of dizziness, but she managed it eventually. She opened the door of her room cautiously. In the ward the curtains were still closed and the only light came from an oil lamp on the desk of the duty nurse at the far end. The nurse herself was busy sewing, her head bent close to the work, and she did not look up as Leo crept out of the ward. The corridor was silent but Leo knew that within minutes it would be loud with the noise of rattling trolleys and cheery voices. She padded softly in her fur-lined boots to the door that led to the courtyard outside and unlocked it, holding her breath at the sound of the big key turning.
    The icy air almost took her breath away, but the yard had been swept clear of snow. She had to feel her way along the wall to stop herself from falling, but she made it to the door of the stable where Leseaux’s gelding and her own little mare were kept. Star greeted her with a soft whinny and Leo laid her arm across the horse’s withers and clung there, soaking up her warmth, until her strength returned. It took her a long time, with numb, shaking fingers, to put the bridle on and the weight of the saddle almost defeated her, but Star was quiet and easy to manage and she succeeded in the end. She led the horse out into the yard and over to a mounting block. Previously she would have scorned such assistance but now, even with it, the effort of mounting seemed insuperable. As she hauled herself up her whole body screamed with pain and once in the saddle she slumped forward over the horse’s neck. Her body was too bruised and torn to sit upright.
    She clicked her tongue and the horse walked forward, out through the arched entrance to the courtyard and into the still sleeping street. Slowly they picked their way past the rubble of bombed buildings and Leo wondered how much time she had before the daily bombardment began again. She almost forgot that every street leading into the city was guarded until a sentry stepped out in front of her to demand a password.
    With a supreme effort Leo forced herself to sit upright. ‘You know me! I’ve been called to attend a woman in childbirth. Let me pass.’
    Fortunately, the first statement was true. The English lady nurse was a familiar sight in the city and the man let her go without further question. She was stopped three more times as she made her way through the outlying houses, but the same formula got her through.
    Out on the open road the wind cut into her like a scythe. It had frozen hard overnight and the packed snow on the road had turned to ice, on which the horse’s hooves slid and skittered. Leo clung to the mane, her head swimming. The sun rose, red, above the eastern mountains, and as if it were a signal the enemy guns opened up. Shells thundered and whistled over them and the mare threw up her head and tried to turn back. Leo battled with the reins, which were stiff with cold. Then a shell exploded only a few yards away, showering them both with shards of ice that cut like glass. The mare reared, Leo lost her grip and fell sideways into one of the deep drifts of snow that lined the road.

Nine
    Winter had the fields and cities of Northern France in its grip, too. On the exposed hilltop where the Calais Convoy was encamped temperatures dropped to below zero every night and in the morning all the cars were frozen up and impossible to start. Lilian Franklin came to the conclusion that there was only one solution: every car must be started once every hour, right through the night. A rota was set up and for the FANYs who were on duty each night there was very little sleep.
    Victoria stumbled off to bed at dawn after a night of cranking recalcitrant motors, hoping that there would not be an emergency that would require all the available ambulances. It seemed that she had scarcely closed her eyes before there was a knock on her door and Wilks looked in.
    â€˜Sorry, old thing.