The beekeepers war, p.1
The Beekeeper's War, page 1
The Beekeeper’s War
Deborah Carr
One More Chapter
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2022
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Copyright © Deborah Carr 2022
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Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2022
Cover photographs: © Mark Owen / Trevillion Images (figure); Shutterstock.com (background)
Deborah Carr asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
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Source ISBN: 9780008534585
Ebook Edition © July 2021 ISBN: 9780008534578
Version: 2022-05-11
Contents
Prologue
Part I
1. Pru
2. Pru
3. Pru
4. Pru
5. Pru
6. Pru
7. Pru
8. Jack
9. Pru
10. Pru
11. Pru
12. Pru
13. Jack
14. Pru
15. Pru
16. Jack
17. Pru
18. Pru
19. Jack
20. Pru
21. Pru
22. Pru
23. Jack
Part II
24. Pru
25. Emma
26. Jack
27. Emma
28. Jack
29. Emma
30. Jack
31. Emma
32. Emma
33. Pru
34. Emma
35. Emma
36. Pru
37. Pru
38. Pru
39. Pru
40. Pru
41. Jack
42. Pru
43. Emma
44. Pru
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading…
About the Author
Also by Deborah Carr
One More Chapter...
About the Publisher
To my mum, Tess Jackson.
For her constant support for my writing and for making me laugh almost every single day.
Prologue
December 1917, Belgium
Jack
Captain Jack Garland held his breath, not daring to move. The icy cold mud had hours before seeped deep into the patched woollen coat and worn trousers he had stolen from the bombed-out farmhouse close to where they were hiding. His muscles ached as he crouched low in the dense bush metres from where he had escaped earlier. He clamped his teeth together in a vain attempt to stop them from chattering and alerting the German soldiers who were scouring the woodland looking for him and his corporal, Falkner. Jack longed to be back in England with his darling Pru enjoying their first Christmas together but he had to survive this nightmare first.
Finally, the soldiers’ footsteps began moving further away. After waiting another two minutes to be certain, he allowed himself the luxury of rotating his shoulders before stretching his arms and then his legs to ease them. He heard the shot that slammed into his arm just below his elbow at the same time the pain exploded. Bastards. They had been thorough in their interrogation methods but Jack had no intention of giving them any information about the British lines. He would rather die in this putrid mud than betray fellow soldiers. No, he thought, picturing his British angel. He had promised her he would return and he would do his best to make that happen. He might be struggling to keep Falkner’s spirits up but at least this time he didn’t have to look after Monty, too.
He instinctively pushed his bloodied hand into his trouser pocket, looking for the lucky piece of twig Pru had given him when he left to return to Europe. It had been all she could think of to give him when he told her he would be unable to take the photograph of her. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her that this mission was to be his most dangerous one yet.
He pictured Pru, wishing he had been able to bring the photograph of her. The pain of being held captive in what was once a magnificent chateau these past three months, and not being able to return to her, almost succeeded in shattering his resolve. The thought that she wouldn’t know he had been thinking of her at the end, that she would never know what had happened to him, sent fury coursing through his veins. He had no intention of letting any vicious officer stop him returning to his darling girl. The image of Pru’s pretty face came into his mind. He pictured that dimple in her left cheek and smiled. Then the sickening pull of pain on his swollen chin from his last beating reminded him that he still had a long way to go if he was to outsmart his captors and get back to her. If only his Sopwith Camel was nearby he might still have a way to fly out of this cesspit.
The dull thud of German military boots neared again. Jack crouched further down into the undergrowth once more. He needed to focus all his attention on his predicament if he was to get out of here alive.
Part One
One
Pru
January 1917, Ashbury Manor, near Winchester, England
Pru sat back in the comfortable leather armchair in front of the open window of the sitting room where the nursing staff went to rest between shifts. It was cooler than she had realised when she was busy looking after the injured men in her care, but the cup of steaming tea warmed her hands nicely. The hospital had been more chaotic lately with nurses having to set up some of the larger rooms into extra wards and she was glad of a little peace.
Lord and Lady Ashbury weren’t at all like she had imagined people of their class to be when she and her best friend Jean had arrived at Ashbury Manor soon after finishing their training. The Ashburys were slightly authoritarian and scared her a little at first, but she soon discovered that their hearts were in the right place. Her friend Milly explained soon after their arrival that the aristocratic couple had lost their oldest and middle sons to the war and were concerned about their surviving youngest son who they believed was fighting somewhere in France. The women felt certain it was these experiences that were behind the Ashburys’ decision to open their magnificent home as a hospital for injured soldiers and their care to ensure the medical staff lived as comfortably as possible.
Pru closed her eyes, determined to make the most of the few minutes’ peace, and turned her face up towards the winter sunshine, relishing its slight warmth. She wriggled her toes as best she could in the tight shoes they all wore, wishing she could take them off and massage her throbbing soles, but she’d learnt the hard way that to do so meant a delay arriving at the ward if she was sent for and she didn’t want to risk the wrath of Matron again.
Tyres crunched on the gravel driveway and she could hear distant, calm voices as instructions were given. New arrivals. She tried to picture her maman, papa, and grandmére at home with her younger brother Frank in Jersey and wondered when she would be able to spend time with them again. Right now though, she was relieved that Frank was too young to enlist. She took a sip of her tea, relishing the sight of the sun in the azure sky. If she tried hard enough, she could almost imagine she was back at home relaxing in the garden at their family-run guesthouse at La Rocque with their views across to the small, pretty harbour with its rocky estuaries and waves rolling in to shore.
Hurried footsteps behind her along the hallway’s polished floorboards alerted her to someone’s imminent arrival.
‘You’re wanted,’ Milly said breathlessly from the doorway, a slight panic in her gentle voice.
Pru didn’t ask why. She didn’t need to. It was obvious that the new arrivals needed to be settled in and her assistance was required. She stood and hurried over to the sink, taking a quick last sip of her drink before regretfully tipping the rest away, quickly washing her cup and leaving it to dry on the draining board.
They ran along the empty corridor before slowing to a walk as they reached the busier areas near the wards.
‘The first ambulance has just left but another couple are expected imminently,’ Milly murmured, stifling a yawn. ‘It’s a bigger intake than we’re used to and Matron wants everyone helping.’
The arrival of new patients always made Pru a little anxious, although she had been a qualified nurse for almost two years. She had gone through training with Jean Le Riche, her best friend from Jersey, and they had met Milly on their arrival in England. The three had been firm friends and roommates ever since. Pru recalled her excitement at the sight of the impressive h
The novelty of living away from home hadn’t worn off yet but she wished her fear of seeing new patients for the first time would diminish. Not that anyone would guess how she felt, she reminded herself, calming slightly as she hurried to do Matron’s bidding. Pru prided herself on her professionalism and ability to reassure the men brought in to be nursed by them, despite some of the stomach-churning injuries she had seen over the previous months, which had given her a few nightmares and shocked her to her core.
Matron glared across the reception area at them as Pru and Milly entered the Great Hall. ‘Nurses Le Cuirot and Denton, good of you to finally join us.’
Pru was used to Matron’s scathing tone and although she sometimes wished she could answer back with a snappy retort, she focused on keeping her expression neutral.
‘I want you outside with the first two ambulances,’ Matron continued. ‘Lead the porters into Ward Two. Doctor Parslow is waiting in there with Nurse Le Riche to receive the men and to decide which wards he wants them sent.’
Pru and Milly hurried along the corridor and outside just as the first two ambulances slowed in front of the main entrance. They stood and waited for each of them to park. Pru braced herself for what she was about to be confronted with. ‘Here we go,’ she said, almost to herself.
The ambulance driver stepped out of the vehicle and walked around to where Pru was waiting for two hospital orderlies to open the back doors.
‘Good morning, Nurse.’
‘Good morning,’ Pru answered, only half aware that she was speaking as she watched the patients’ stretchers being withdrawn from the ambulance. She gave her best welcoming smile to the first patient, unable to miss the wince as his movement to return the smile caused him more pain. She took the list from the driver’s hands and scanned down over the details. ‘Thank you.’
The first soldier was carried out of the ambulance. His eyes moved in her direction and she immediately spotted a dark shadow of fear she had become familiar with since her arrival at the hospital. ‘I’m Nurse Le Cuirot,’ she said, keeping her voice level and faking a confidence she didn’t feel. ‘Welcome to Ashbury Manor. We’ll take you inside where Doctor Parslow will speak to you and we’ll settle you into a ward shortly afterwards.’
He seemed reassured by her comments, so she turned her attention to the porters. ‘Please try to carry these men with as little movement as possible.’ She checked the label tied to the first man’s lapel. A leg injury. ‘If you would go to Ward Two, please,’ she said to the porters carrying the first patient. ‘I’ll follow on.’
The porter at the front of the first stretcher smiled. ‘No problem, Nurse.’
Pru stepped over to the second stretcher. Checking her list, she saw that he was suffering from a leg injury as well, but also had a shrapnel wound to his arm. She greeted him and then waited for the next patient to be lifted from the back of the vehicle, wondering where these poor men had returned from. It could be many places, but she had heard a few of the nurses discussing reports in one of the newspapers of yet more casualties at the Front in France and suspected this influx of casualties might have come from there.
‘How much longer do you think this dreadful war is going to continue?’ she asked her friend Jean as they went to replenish their supplies of dressings later that morning.
‘Probably until there are no young men left?’ Jean replied, opening the supply room door and holding it back for Pru to push in the trolley. ‘I’m finding it a struggle to deal with all this suffering. I wish we could have a break from it. Even a few days would be welcome.’
‘I’d love that,’ Pru said, reaching up to take bandages from the shelf. ‘It gets a little too overwhelming sometimes, doesn’t it?’
‘It does.’ Jean counted dressings before placing them on the trolley and turning to fetch more.
‘But I remind myself that we’re the lucky ones,’ Pru added miserably. ‘Our aching feet get to have a break whenever we’re off duty, unlike these poor men, who might have to wait months for proper relief.’
‘And some of them will never get it.’ Jean sighed. ‘Right, I think that’s all we needed,’ she said, lowering bottles of saline solution carefully onto the trolley. ‘We’d better get back now.’
‘I’ll just fetch the two larger basins Matron specifically asked for and then we can get back to the ward.’
She hoped the allies would find a way to beat the enemy into submission, and the sooner the better as far as she was concerned. It was heartbreaking to witness these damaged men being brought in day after day, especially as most of those who survived were too badly injured to ever be able to lead the life they had been used to before enlisting.
‘Nurse Le Riche.’ They jumped to find Matron waiting for them outside the supply room. ‘Why are you both fetching supplies? I feel like I’m dealing with a pair of nitwits sometimes.’ She groaned. ‘Surely one of you could have done that.’
Pru was too shocked to laugh at the woman’s strange description of them. She went to explain that they each needed different items, but knew that one of them could have handed the other their list, so instead kept quiet. She could tell her superior that it was nice to take a moment every once in a while to catch up with her friend and talk openly, but didn’t think Matron would appreciate the sentiment.
‘Nurse Le Cuirot, take the trolley back to the ward.’
‘I want you,’ Matron added, turning to Jean, ‘to go outside. A private ambulance is due to arrive soon and I want one of my nurses ready and waiting for it. It’s bringing in a special patient and I want him taken to the private part of the house. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Matron.’
‘The porters will wait with you. They’ve been instructed about where he’s to be taken.’
Pru glanced at Jean, frightened on her friend’s behalf to think how injured the soldier must be if he was to be kept away from the rest of the patients. She couldn’t help feeling relieved she wasn’t the one being sent out to greet him. She mouthed a good luck when Matron had turned her back to leave, and then pushed the trolley back to the ward.
Two
Pru
January 1917
Pru was helping three other nurses set up a room at the back of the house under Matron’s watchful eye.
‘Remove those pictures carefully,’ she ordered. ‘They’re to be placed on the rug over there, one behind the other, ready for the footmen to take them away to be stored.’
The nurses did as they were told. Pru assumed the room they were clearing had been someone’s study or sitting room. It was smaller yet prettier than the rooms they already used for the three wards. The small sofa and armchairs were covered in a delicate floral material and the lamps and pictures were somehow more personal than the more austere furnishings she’d seen in the areas of the rest of the manor house that she had had access to.
