Caught On Camera

My bright, beautiful sister – how could she have got it so wrong?

To an extent, it was my fault. William and I had met through mutual friends two summers before, when his leave and mine had happened to coincide.

I’d gone on to introduce him to Dorothy. She’d been deeply in love with Gordon at the time.

But now, in three days’ time, she and William would announce their engagement.

“The old man’s giving me free rein to expand the garage,” William was saying. “Life’s going to be great, isn’t it, Dorrie?”

Bringing another fragrant flower to my nose, I shook my head.

William was full of plans and enthusiasm for the future, but I couldn’t see him staying long at his father’s garage.

There was something headstrong about him that I felt I understood. I wasn’t sure Dorothy did, though.

I glanced back at the table and saw William frown as he looked from Dorothy to Gordon, then back to Dorothy.

My sister looked lovely in a long-sleeved afternoon dress of pale-yellow sprigged with orange flowers.

I wore loose trousers that made me feel fashionably mannish, and a pretty blouse with a zigzag pattern at the collar and cuffs that I’d spent hours embroidering.

Dorothy and I were so very different.

During the war, Mother had opened up the house to convalescent soldiers.

Dorothy, two years younger than me, had been in her element, reading to the men, writing their letters, knitting socks and scarves for them and baking cakes.

I, on the other hand, had volunteered as soon as I was old

enough and had become a nurse in the the Voluntary Aid Detachment.

I’d spent the last two years of the war nursing in casualty clearing stations close behind the front lines in France.

When the war ended, there were still plenty of wounded men to tend, so I’d spent the nine months since the Armistice at a teaching hospital in London.

I’d come back this week on one of my rare visits home to celebrate Dorothy’s engagement to William. But now . . .

“Shire horses?” William asked. “No. Motorised transport, that’s the future.”

He ran his thumb and forefinger outwards along his thin moustache.

“In ten years’ time no-one will be using horses.”

“I dare say you’re right.” Standing up awkwardly, Gordon sounded tired.

He wasn’t as traditionally handsome as William, but I’d always liked the warmth in his brown eyes and the way his hair flopped over his forehead.

He turned to my sister. “Thank you for the tea and cake, Dorothy, but I must go.” All of a sudden his voice was gruff.

“I wish you and William every happiness in the future. I’ll see myself out.”

“William can take you home.” Was there an edge of desperation in my sister’s voice? “He has a motor car.”

“No, thanks, Dorrie.” Gordon’s mouth tugged down at the corners.

I went with him round the side of the house, making for the front gate.

“What happened?” I asked, nodding towards his crutch.

Dorothy had already told me, but I wanted to hear it from him.

“Shrapnel. At Passchendaele.”

I said nothing, waiting to see if he would continue.

I, too, was remembering the horror of it all: the noise, the mud and the endless lines of wounded.

“Dorrie told me,” I went on, “in one of her letters, that the two of you were unofficially engaged.”

“We agreed to keep it between the two of us. You were in France, Maud.

“You know what it was like. We didn’t want to tempt fate.

“I wasn’t afraid of being killed, but I’d seen the wounds men got. I didn’t want to bind Dorrie to a promise she might regret.” “But –”

“As it turned out, it was for the best.”

There was a finality in his tone that brought tears to my eyes, and I watched in silence as he made his way slowly down the street.

Heading back to join William and my sister, I detoured to take my bicycle out of the shed and wheel it across to the table.

“Could you have a look at it, William, please? The brakes don’t work very well.

“Dorrie and I need to pick some flowers from the garden for Mother. She’ll be back soon.”

“Dorothy.” As soon as we rounded the corner of the house and William could neither see nor hear us, I turned my sister round to face me. “You’re still in love with Gordon.”

I’d seen the way her fingers had stretched out towards him.

She hadn’t been keeping him away. She’d been reaching out, longing, but not daring, to touch him.

“You’re wrong.” Dorrie’s voice wasn’t steady. “I’m going to marry William.” My chin came up.

“I’m not going to let my sister get engaged to someone she’s going to be unhappy with. You have to call it off.”

The colour swept from her cheeks.

“I can’t. The engagement party’s only days away.” “You don’t love him.” “I do.”

“I have a feeling you don’t know him very well,” I persisted. “There’s a restlessness about him that’s going to make you very unhappy.

“He’ll be off driving fast in his motor car, or flying an aeroplane, or climbing mountains. You want a home and babies. He won’t give you that.” Dorothy’s face crumpled. “I know. I know you’re right. But he broke it off.”

With a murmur I drew her to me, wrapping her in my arms.

“When he lost his leg,” she mumbled into my shoulder. “He said I should marry a whole man.

“He said he wasn’t good enough for me. But he is.”

Her voice rose, echoing in my ears.

“He always will be.”

****

Next day, a knock came at my bedroom door. Early morning light was streaming into the room.

Standing at the washstand, splashing cold water on my face, I looked up to see my sister enter.

Like me, she was still in her nightdress.

One corner of a paisley shawl somehow clung to her shoulder, the rest trailing on the floor behind her.

“Dorothy. What is it?” But I knew. She was pale. Purplish shadows were smudged beneath her eyes and her hair hung in rat tails around her face. My heart lurched. Quickly patting my face dry, I crossed over to her, taking her hands in mine.

“Oh, Maud. I don’t think I’ve slept all night.” Emotion choked her words. “I’ve been going over it.”

Her voice caught. She swallowed then carried on.

“You’re right, Maud. William isn’t the man for me. It’s Gordon I love. But if he won’t have me . . .”

Tears filled my eyes and I drew her to me, pressing her head to my shoulder, stroking her hair.

“Gordon did what he thought was the honourable thing.” My voice was soothing. “He’s a good man.”

I paused, gathering my thoughts.

“We’ll just have to make him see sense.”

Dorothy spluttered and my spirits gave a little leap.

“I’m lucky to have you as a sister,” she said. “Nothing daunts you, does it?”

“You’ll have to tell William,” I said quietly.

William had seemed a little subdued when he had left yesterday.

I had wondered at the time if he might have overheard us.

“I’ll write. I’ll do it now.” Easier said than done. When I looked in on her an hour later, she was sitting at her dressing table, her head in her hands.

Crumpled balls of paper lay scattered over the carpet.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” she said. “But I just can’t find the right words.”

The doorbell rang. Moments later we heard Mother calling up the stairs.

“Dorothy. It’s William.” “Come on,” I said softly, taking my sister’s hand and drawing her to her feet. “I’ll come down with you.”

At the top of the stairs, it was Dorothy who caught me, bringing me to a halt.

William stood in the hallway below and my throat tightened at the sight of him.

He held his cap in his hands, turning it round and round between his fingers. He didn’t look up.

Was it possible he hadn’t heard us? Or was he deep in thought?

Dorothy pulled me back, out of sight.

“He’s come to the same conclusion as me, hasn’t he?” she whispered.

“I rather think he has,” I conceded.

She was silent, her eyes losing focus for an instant.

“I didn’t see it before. Or I didn’t understand. William’s like you in so many ways. Isn’t he?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “Yes, he is.”

“If the two of you were to form an attachment, I wouldn’t object.”

I stared at her. My heart was thudding in my ears and I realised I wasn’t going to reject the idea out of hand.

Though I didn’t know, of course, if William had any feelings for me.

“First, you must speak to him.” Putting my arm round her waist, I drew her gently towards the stairs. ■