The Last Letter from Juliet - Melanie Hudson Page 0,75

have turned the photograph around because Fate, that overly-sensible overlord, would once again take me under his control, and as I stood on the platform in a hedonistic haze, pushing Charles from my mind and waiting to begin my ‘two days to last a lifetime’ I saw Anna and Marie running toward me, out of breath, just as the train arrived. Anna was waving a telegram.

Charles injured Stop Hospital ship docks Southampton Monday Stop Operation on Tuesday Stop Can you be there Stop Love Ma

‘I said we shouldn’t come,’ she said, shaking her head. Anna talked over her. ‘But I thought you’d be even more desperate when you got back if you didn’t know. The guilt would hurt you too much, it would ruin whatever time you’d had.’

The guard blew his whistle. Train doors slammed shut. I stood with the telegram in my hand. My friends stared at me, waiting for a decision.

Marie took hold of my arm. ‘Go!’ she urged. ‘You’ll still be back in plenty of time to support Charles. This is your moment for happiness, Juliet. For passion! Edward said as much in his letter – two days to last a lifetime, remember?’

I thought of opening my clutch bag and taking out my father’s compass. Was this to be the first time I would ask it a question? I glanced questioningly – desperately – at Anna, my moral compass, who’s face told me exactly what I really ought to do. Leaving the compass where it was, and mute with disappointment and guilt – disappointment of having my chance with Edward taken away, and with guilt for not being heartbroken about Charles’ injuries, because God only knew what they would turn out to be, I stepped away from the train.

‘No!’ Marie persisted. ‘You were far too young and naïve when you married Charles, you know you were. It was all a ridiculous mistake – even Charles knows that! What if something happens to Edward and you miss this chance. Please, Juliet. The train is starting to move. You can still jump on. Go to London! I’m begging you, go!’

I felt my wedding ring through my glove, leant towards her and kissed her on the cheek before turning to hug Anna, just as the steam from the engine engulfed our embrace.

‘It’s no good,’ I said. ‘I can’t have a wonderful time with Edward now, not knowing the extent of Charles’ injuries. I can’t.’

The train picked up momentum. Even if I had changed my mind, it was too late to jump on now. Marie’s shoulders slumped.

‘We should never have brought the damn telegram!’ She threw a bitter look in Anna’s direction. ‘We should have let you go to London with the innocence of not knowing.’

I picked up my small suitcase with a protracted sigh.

‘Innocence?’ My dejected exhaustion at the whole sorry mess now echoing in my voice. ‘Nothing about that trip would have been innocent, Marie. You did the right thing.’

We walked down the platform.

‘But don’t you think Edward deserves an explanation in person?’ Marie asked. ‘You could catch the next train to town, go to the Savoy and explain. Have dinner and catch the last train home …’ Her eyes were pleading.

I shook my head.

‘If I go to London, I won’t have the strength to come home tonight. I know I won’t. I’ll get caught up in the moment and Edward will too.’ We began to walk again. ‘I’ll telegram Edward at the Savoy. Try to explain, somehow.’

‘Maybe he knows already?’ Anna said, suddenly brighter. ‘He works at Lanyon. He may have bumped into your in-laws, they would have told him about their son, surely.’

I shook my head.

‘Edward hasn’t been at Lanyon this week. I don’t know where he’s been.’

‘Do you think he’ll understand?’ Anna asked. ‘It’ll be a terrible blow. Do you think he’ll ask you to meet him again?’

Tears pricked my eyes and I thought of Edward on the Helford River, trying – and failing – to quote Rabbie Burns, my love is like a red red rose, while he sailed across the river, laughing.

‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t.’

Edward did not answer my telegram.

Sitting next to Charles’ hospital bed four days later, I wept. I wept for Charles, whose ship had taken a direct blow leaving him fighting for his life with internal injuries and needing surgery to save his life, but mostly I wept for my lost love. Being at war was no different to being in the first throws of a desperate love affair, because