He said he wouldn’t tie me to a cripple.”

“Will you go back to Toronto when the war is over?” Ellen asked Lucas. “To your law practice? I know you were made a partner.”

“I suppose so,” he answered. “Jed will go back to the farm, I know, and Dad will certainly appreciate his help. I was never one for farming, though.” “You liked your books.” “And you your pencils.” He leaned forward, his expression intent. “I do hope you go back to Glasgow, Ellen. You’ve done so much there, and I think you’d make a wonderful drawing instructor. Don’t give up on your dreams.”

Ellen smiled. The trouble was, perhaps, she didn’t know what her dreams were any more. And even after three years in Glasgow, it still didn’t feel like home, now that she was so far away from it.

“I don’t know what I’ll do,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll know when the war finally ends.”

They walked back to the abbey. The sun was starting to sink towards the horizon but the day was still drowsy and warm. “Where will you sleep tonight?” Ellen asked as the abbey came into view, its cloisters gilded in the fading sunlight. “I’ll go back to Paris. I’m meeting a friend there.” Their steps slowed as they came to the front door. Ellen was reluctant to end the afternoon. She turned to Lucas, smiling even as she blinked back the sting of tears. “I can’t tell you how good it has been to see you, Lucas. I’ve missed the island so much.”

“It’s been too long.” Lucas smiled back at her. “I’ll write to you, Ellen, now that I know where you are. I hope you’ll write to me. I’ll give you my address in London where letters can reach me. I’m not always there, but I should get them eventually.”

Trying not to cry He took out a stub of pencil and a scrap of paper and scribbled for a moment before handing it to her.

“I will write,” she promised, and Lucas took hold of her hands.

“Don’t forget me, Ellen,” he said softly and he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. He smelled of soap and coffee. She closed her eyes, savouring the moment, trying not to cry.

With one last squeeze Lucas released her hands and stepped back. She gazed at him, wanting to memorise his features, how dashing he looked in his uniform, yet still so familiar and dear. The terrible thought that she might never see him again seized her and for a moment she couldn’t speak.

“Goodbye, Ellen,” Lucas said and Ellen managed to choke out, “Goodbye, Lucas.” She watched him as he walked all the way down the lane, and then disappeared around the corner as twilight began to settle on the meadows and hills around the abbey.

A few weeks after Lucas’s visit, Miss Ivens called all of her staff together in the massive refectory. Ellen sat on a wooden bench, fanning herself in the still, hot air of the huge kitchen, as Miss Ivens stood in front of the 40 women gathered there.

“As you know,” she began, “we have been investigating the possibility of organising an advance casualty clearing station that is closer to the Front.”

Ellen knew that as the Front moved farther away from Royaumont, the abbey had become more of a convalescent home than a military hospital, a fact which had frustrated Miss Ivens to no end.

Having access to early operative treatment was shown greatly to improve the soldiers’ mortality rates, and reduce the cases of gas gangrene that they’d seen at Royaumont so depressingly often, and Miss Ivens wanted to be part of providing it.

“I have looked at various sites over the course of the summer,” Miss Ivens continued, “and we have finally found one that is deemed suitable. Therefore, in a few weeks’ time, I will be sending a team to VillersCotterêts to prepare an advance casualty-clearing station near the Front. Anyone who wishes to be part of this new endeavour may speak to me regarding the opportunity.”

New challenge Everyone was buzzing with the news as Miss Ivens dismissed them. Ellen glanced at Norah, whose face was alight with interest. Norah had taken to the challenges of Royaumont with aplomb; Ellen had no doubt her former landlady and mentor would be up for those offered at Villers-Cotterêts.

Ellen saw Letitia hurrying away and went to catch up with her. Since Lucien’s amputation a few weeks ago, she’d withdrawn into herself and Ellen had not been able to reach her.

“Do you think many people will want to go to this new place?” she asked now. “I’ve been at Royaumont so long it almost feels like home.”

“I suspect some people will relish the new challenge. And it will be a challenge,” Letitia answered listlessly. “I heard from Mrs Berry that the place they’ve chosen is little better than a few sheds. It used to be an evacuation centre, and it’s right beside a railway station. They’ve got oil-papered windows and composition roofs.”

“At least it will be convenient, so close to the station,” Ellen offered.

“Yes, there’s a covered walkway between the station and the buildings. So there is that, I suppose.” Letitia’s mouth twisted. “Perhaps I shall put my name forward. Miss Ivens is looking for several doctors along with nursing sisters and orderlies.” “You’re thinking of going?” Ellen said in surprise. Letitia gave her a swift, sharp look. “Why shouldn’t I?” “I thought you’d wish to be near Lieutenant Allard.” “Oh, Ellen.” Letitia let out a weary laugh. “How, after everything, can you still be such a romantic?”

“A romantic?” Ellen gave an uncertain laugh. “No one has ever called me that before. But you love him, Letitia, I know you do.”

A broken laugh Letitia pressed her lips together, her gaze distant. “I don’t deny it.” “And he loves you.” “Perhaps.” “I know he does! The two of you come alive when you are together. I know his amputation is a hard thing, but surely –”

“Oh, Ellen, you have no idea.” Letitia passed a hand over her face as she shook her head wearily. “Lucien has been in the Army since he was twenty-one. He has only had an active life.” “He can adjust –” “His father was in the Army as well. And life in Algiers is hard.” “You aren’t one ever to shrink from a challenge.” “Perhaps it isn’t up to me.” “What do you mean?” Letitia was silent for a long moment, her hand still covering her eyes.

“He refused me,” she spat out, and dropped her hand. She let out a broken laugh at Ellen’s look of shock. “No, I don’t shrink from a challenge, do I?” she said, her voice ragged and a little wild. “I asked him to marry me, Ellen. And he said no. He said he wouldn’t tie me to a cripple.”

She looked away, setting her jaw even as she blinked back tears. “Oh, Letitia,” Ellen whispered. “I am sorry.” “So am I,” Letitia said in a hard voice. “But you can see why I might put my name forward to go to Villers Cotterêts.”

More tomorrow.

On Renfrew Street was previously a serial in The People’s Friend. For more great fiction, get The People’s Friend every week, £1.30 from newsagents and supermarkets.

Artwork: Dave Young