Time for Silence

Annabelinda took charge of them. She referred to theirs as her ward, and she was constantly in and out. Of course, she was a favorite with the men.

I could not help but be a little put out. For so long I had looked forward to Marcus’s arrival, and now it was like an anticlimax.

Marcus could walk out into the garden and he used to like to sit there under the sycamore tree. I was very rarely there with him alone. If I did manage it, in a few minutes Annabelinda would be there.

I was not sure whether he resented this as I did. He gave no sign of doing so—but then he would not.

Annabelinda would chatter away, asking questions about the fighting in Gallipoli, and not listening to the answers. She said how wonderful it was to feel one was doing something toward the progress of victory, and how much she admired the brave men who were fighting for the cause. Then we would talk about that journey we had all made together; we would remember little incidents which had seemed far from funny at the time and now seemed quite hilarious.

Marcus frequently told us how delighted he was to be at Marchlands.

“I used to lie in my narrow hospital bed and wonder if I was ever going to get here,” he said. “The weeks went on and on and they would not let me go.”

“You have been very ill, Marcus,” I said.

“Oh, not really. It was just that stubborn doctor. The more eager I was to go, the more determined he seemed to be to keep me.”

“You are so brave,” said Annabelinda. “You make light of your wounds. And if you are glad to be here, we are twice as glad to have you in our clutches.”

“This is where I would rather be than anywhere else.”

“I am so pleased,” said Annabelinda, looking at him earnestly, “that they can’t take you away from us…not yet anyway. We shall insist on keeping you until this silly old war is over.”

“You are too good to me,” he told her.

“You will see how good I can be,” she said, her eyes full of promise.

Then one day I found him alone under the sycamore tree.

“This is wonderful,” he exclaimed. “I hardly ever see you alone.”

“You always seem quite happy.”

“I’m happier at this moment.”

“You always say the things people want to hear. Do you really mean them?”

He put his hand over mine. “Not always, but at this moment, yes.”

I laughed. “Flattery comes as easily to you as breathing.”

“Well, it pleases people…and what’s wrong with that?”

“But if you don’t mean it…”

“It serves a purpose. As I said, it pleases people. You would not want me to go around displeasing them, would you?”

“That’s very laudable, but in time, of course, people will realize you don’t mean what you say.”

“Only the wise ones…like you. Most lap it up. It’s what they want to hear, so why not give it to them? But I assure you, I will be absolutely truthful with you. You are so astute that it would be pointless to be otherwise. At this moment, I am happy to see you and to have you to myself, and to see that you are growing up into a very attractive young lady. You were so young when we first met.”

“I’m nearly two years older now.”

“About to reach the magic age. But don’t grow up too soon, will you?”

“I thought you were urging me to.”

“I want you to keep that bloom of innocence. Sweet sixteen, they say, don’t they? How right they are! Don’t learn about the wicked ways of the world too soon, will you?”

“I think I have learned quite a lot about them in the last two years.”

“But it hasn’t spoiled you. You still have that adorable innocence. You will soon be seventeen. When is your birthday?”

“In September. The first.”

“Almost three months away.”

“I wonder if you will still be here?”

“I am going to be. If necessary I shall malinger. I shall pull the wool over Dr. Egerton’s eyes and make him insist on my remaining here.”

“But surely you will have recovered by then?”

He shrugged his shoulders and touched his chest. “That bullet did something. The old leg might get back to something like normal. I believe they are not much concerned with that I don’t think it would qualify me to be here. But I have to take care of this other thing.”

“I am glad in a way that you won’t be able to go to the front.”

“You would mind very much if I did?”

“Of course. I thought a great deal about you when you were in Gallipoli.”

“I wish I’d known.”

“But you must have guessed. We were all thinking of you…you and Uncle Gerald.”

“It’s your thinking of me that interests me.”

We were silent for a few moments, then I said, “You know a great deal about me and my family. I know little about you and yours.”

“There is not a great deal to know. I have been in the army from the time I was eighteen. Destined for it, you know. It’s all tradition in my family.”

“Uncle Gerald did say something about your coming from an ancient family.”

“We all come from ancient families. Heaven knows how far our ancestors go back…to the days when they were all living in trees or caves perhaps.”

“The difference is that you know who your family was and what they were doing hundreds of years ago. You’re from one of those families who…”