LITMIR.BIZ

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when Clara eavesdropped on her parents’ conversations that she learned why her sister had been sent away. Amelia had given birth a few months after arriving in Canada. For many years, the sister lost contact with the family until she wrote one day to say that she had married a pharmacist and was living in Nova Scotia with her daughter. Clara herself had no idea where or how Amelia had lived before her marriage. Now, thinking about her Canadian connection, she wanted to write to tell her sister she had lost George. But then my sister wouldn’t even know I was married, she thought. She gave her last set of directions to the ladies and headed for the stairs.

      Clara was an experienced nurse who could distinguish a fever due to influenza from a rise in temperature caused by a bacterial infection in a wound. Seeing younger staff overwhelmed by the rapid onset of the highly contagious flu, she had offered to sleep at the hospital for the past month. Now she was finally getting a week’s leave of absence.

      At the entrance to the hospital, she stopped to observe the commotion. Eighteen beds were squeezed into the foyer. Outside the main door, a Red Cross ambulance driver and a nurse were unloading four new casualties. Clara removed her cape and began pushing together the iron cots in the foyer to make room for the new arrivals. The volunteer nurse was flustered because they had run out of cots.

      “Get mattresses,” Clara snapped. The volunteer sped off and came back with an armful of blankets. “That will do for now,” Clara said in a softer tone. “The men won’t feel the floor through the morphine. Go tell Matron we received four more.”

      “Sister Durling, we must get you to the station or you’ll miss your train,” the hovering ambulance driver interjected. With order established, she joined four ambulant soldiers waiting for the outgoing truck. They were helped into the back and Clara stepped up beside the driver. During the one-hour drive into central London, she would have time to plan what she would do with Billy and Ivy during the week. Until the fast-spreading flu, Clara had been home most weekends, but now she had the dark circles under her eyes of someone who had often worked through the night.

      On the train, Clara sat beside a young soldier, who, after a few minutes of chit-chat, suddenly began to cry. “I was to be shipped back to the front in two weeks,” he said. “My ma’s already lost two sons and she was terrified. I sent her a telegram right away when I heard the good news. I hope she checks at the post office.”

      Clara’s moss-green eyes filled with tears. “Your mother will be overjoyed to know you were in England when the truce was announced.”

      “I expect so, ma’am.” The soldier wiped his nose on his sleeve and apologized.

      The train buzzed with stories and occasionally audible tears. Clara rested her head on the window and slept until the train whistled her arrival. She dreamt that Dr. Newbury had suggested war widows would have better opportunities to raise their children in Canada. Her response before she woke up was: “I’d never leave England.”

      There was a symphony of church bells ringing through the cool air as she stepped onto the platform. Shouts of joy rose from the village square. Woodside was in a frenzy of celebration. Someone began banging a drum. Then an entire band began playing “God Save the King.” What a contrast from the hospital, Clara thought. Tears of joy and sorrow were streaming down beaming faces. Everyone in the village had lost someone. People hugged, sang patriotic songs, and tipped metal flasks to their smiling lips. The occasional face covered with a protective mask was a stark reminder that England’s troubles were not over. She overcame her exhaustion and broke into a run.

      Mrs. Drake, wife of the neighbouring farmer, was waiting at the gate with Billy and Ivy. She was a short, hefty woman, suited for farm work. Clara had confessed to Mrs. Drake that her parents could not help her financially. Seeing Clara facing hardship and having to work, she’d offered to babysit during the week. During the month that Clara had remained at the hospital, Mrs. Drake had just moved the children to the farm permanently so she only had one household to look after. At the end of each school day, she stood with the mothers waiting for the children to be dismissed. It was worrying to hear that closing the schools might be necessary to prevent the rapid spread of flu. The health council had sent a notice to all families stating that children were more vulnerable than older adults.

      Mrs. Drake’s chubby cheeks broke into a broad smile as she pushed the children forward to meet Clara.

      “We made you a cake,” they pronounced simultaneously.

      “My husband got us an extra ration of butter and sugar,” Mrs. Drake said with a satisfied smile.

      “And did that cost a chicken?” Clara asked, her eyes wide.

      “It did.”

      “We’re a lucky family to have the Drakes as neighbours. Now, what do we say?”

      “Thank you, Mrs. Drake.”

      “Oh, I am glad to be home, even for a week.”

      “Why do you have to go back to the hospital?” Billy asked.

      “Because there are some sick soldiers, and we need money to live.” Clara buried her face in Billy’s thick blond curls. “You’ve inherited my hair gene,” she said, smiling. “Now, let’s go see this special cake.”

      Clara relieved Mrs. Drake after the cake ceremony and spent the day joyfully entering into the children’s play. In the evening, to counter Billy’s bedtime negotiations, Clara reminded him that Mrs. Drake had said seven o’clock. “You’re tired and Mummy won’t be far behind you.”

      The next morning, as the children gobbled up their eggs, Clara said, “We’re fortunate to live next to a farm. Manners, please.”

      “Do I have to leave something for the butler?” Ivy asked.

      “Manners would like a small bit of your egg,” Clara said, laughing. Ivy burst into giggles. “Let’s go for a walk in Farmer Drake’s woods. Best to avoid the shops with this flu virus.”

      Watching her children scurry about to find their boots, hats, gloves, and raincoats, Clara was struck by how normal her children were in spite of the tragedy around them. She wondered how long it would be before England was normal once more. Children are more resilient than adults, she thought, setting out for their walk in the woods with a new sense of confidence. She felt fortunate to be a nurse and saddened for those women who had filled men’s jobs during the war. Most of them would now be replaced.

      Ivy perched on a log at the edge of the woods. “I want to see the birds, Mummy. I promise to stay put.” She bent the rim of her hat back off her eyes and looked up at an enormous flock of rooks. The birds made a deafening noise. Billy dashed into the woods after a rabbit. Clara felt her exhaustion return as she ran behind while he darted around trees and jumped over logs.

      After the first day’s outing, Ivy decided to keep a diary. She noted birds, animals, trees, and flowers in her tidy, compact printing. She offered a page to Billy, but he said he kept everything he saw in his head.

      Near the end of Clara’s week of leave, she suggested they visit Mr. Drake’s barn at milking time. When they arrived, a young farmhand was sitting on a stool rhythmically pulling at the udders of an enormous black-and-white cow. Ivy wandered to the end of the barn and asked why there was a cow in a cage.

      “That one there is a bull. He doesn’t give us any milk,” the farmhand said.

      “Then why would you keep him?” Ivy asked.

      “Hmm, I think you ought to ask Mr. Drake,” he said. Ivy shrugged and headed off to explore.

      “My daughter questions everything,” Clara said, laughing. She turned to find Billy trying to climb from the fence onto a cow’s back. The farmhand managed to remove him without getting kicked.

      When they arrived home, Mrs. Drake had prepared a modest goodbye tea. “This was the best I could manage,” she said. “But we still have some of the cake.”

      After tea, Billy dragged Clara outside to show her his rose garden. She was always touched that he shared her love

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