Never Another You (8 page)

Last night Jack suffered another terrible nightmare. His only memories were of violence, horror, and that fraught kiss. He kept these night terrors to himself. Still he had that strong military resolve, and wouldn’t want to be seen as weak or incompetent in dealing with such a little matter of a bad dream. He watched men lose limbs, sight, and their desire to live, fighting in the war. He wasn’t going to mope around. He needed to put a brave front on in his situation. This was one of the reasons he was drawn to Eleanor. She gave him something other than destruction to think about. New things. Pleasant things. With her gone, the nights had darkened a little, and the horrors in his mind heightened.

He felt ashamed of his actions, kissing a married woman when she was obviously fighting her own personal battle. There was also a feeling of loathing. And when he saw those bruises on her arms, he wanted to leave that hospital to go and find the man that did it to her. But he soon came to realise, it wasn’t his place to interfere in the marital issues that she had to bear. Like she said, it was none of his business. Though, it didn’t stop that intense fury in his stomach, and a deep worry he couldn’t shake off. He had grown to care for her for some bizarre reason, and he knew it had to stop.

Jack wouldn’t be going alone to the university in oxford, which deals specifically with amnesia victims. There were many who suffered this hidden damage during combat. Some were able to cope and remain positive, like Jack. And some were not so fortunate. Poor men who were so beyond help, they had to be drugged and restrained. Jack saw himself as blessed. He did have an identity to seek. He knew his name, where he came from, and was even told the names of his parents and three Brothers. He wasn’t some vegetable sat drooling in a wheelchair. He was fully aware, mobile now, and determined to fix himself.

As he waited, dressed in his freshly laundered military uniform for his admittance papers, he saw Teresa hurrying toward him, holding a large brown paper bag. He smiled at her, but didn’t receive one in return. She was clearly upset by something. She had swollen eyes and her make-up had smudged around her eyelashes.

“Jack, these are some of your personal belongings you came in with.” She placed the bag on the bed next to him. “Our transport will be here in one hour.” She quickly turned to walk away.

“Teresa,” Jack called after her. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” She moved with speed and disappeared into the storeroom.

Sister Mary ladled broth out from a big pan in the middle of the ward, as hungry soldiers gathered to take their lunch. Jack wasn’t hungry. All he wanted, was to leave that hospital and get some air. There had been a delay with the bus; a collision he was informed. So, to pass time, he rummaged through his personal belongings.

Out from the paper bag he pulled a red scarf. He held it up to the window. It was dirty, torn, and had oil and blood stains on it. He bit his cheek in hopeless thought, and placed it down on the bed. He dipped his hand into the bag again, and lifted out a crumpled up note. On it, were the names of soldiers under his command, with co-ordinates next to each name. He had no idea what the note was for, but guessed it to be some form of strategic plan to help him in combat. A few of the names he saw scribbled down were familiar to him, and made his heart beat a little faster. This was a big step for him. A good indication that he would make a recovery.

He folded the note, placed it into his jacket pocket, and then pulled the last item out of the bag. A wrapped package tied with string. He scowled at it. Why would he have a sealed parcel out in battle? There was no sense in it. Unless he was intending to send it to someone. He ripped off the paper, to find a tatty thick notebook. He opened the cover, recognising his own handwriting. So he began to read what seemed to be a story about himself in his youth.

After reading the first few pages, something began to happen to Jack inside. He focused on the name, Eleanor Haughton. Eleanor, a name he had come across again in that hospital. A name he was extremely fond of. His eyes began to pulse and water with a burning pain. He rubbed them, and continued to read.

As he turned page after page, reading his own story, the name of his beloved, Nell, repeatedly flashed in his mind. Now, he was in agony. His head pounded and hummed, and the words blurred as he began to remember fragments of broken time. With his eyes shut tightly, he saw Nell, and he saw Eleanor who had nursed him on that very ward. One of the same they were. How could this be? Had his wires crossed? Was his imagination playing tricks on him? He grimaced, clutching at his head as he re-lived that perfect first kiss in the field, then the kiss in hospital. Her laugh, her scent, the feel of her naked body next to his, ripped through his whole being. He remembered himself. He remembered her. He remembered everything. But not without a cost.

Jack collapsed to the floor. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he suffered a massive seizure. Sister Mary yelled out as his head hit the concrete floor with force. She held him down, thrusting the wooden ladle she used for the broth between his compressed teeth.

Teresa raced over, flustered in alarm. She noticed the open notebook on the floor, and knew immediately that was what caused him to have a fit. She got down onto her knees, and pinned down his flailing legs.

“What’s going on here?” Dr Stanton pulled out a small torch and shone it into Jack’s white eyes.

Sister Mary struggled. She was now straddling his chest with her knees knelt down hard on his arms, trying to prevent him from hurting his head by gripping his face.

“That’s the most ridiculous question,” she snapped at the doctor. “What does it look like!”

After a few minutes, Jack began to calm as beads of cold sweat emerged all over his pale skin. Both Sister Mary and Teresa blew out with reprieve. He was stirring and moaning, calling out Nell’s name as his body twitched because he was stuck in another time.

“Right, get him into bed,” Dr Stanton ordered. “Keep his legs and arms restrained in case he has another.”

“What about Oxford?” Teresa asked. “They’re expecting him.”

“He can’t go anywhere like this,” he replied. “Close observation for the next twenty for hours Sister.”

Sister Mary and Teresa strained as they hoisted Jack up by his arms, and dropped him onto his bed. Sister Mary then hurried into the storeroom, and came back with several padded leather belts. She held them out to Teresa.

“Make sure there is no room for him to manoeuvre,” she said, still panting for air.

As Sister Mary walked away, she nearly tripped up on Jack’s journal. She bent down in annoyance to pick it up, and as soon as her back straightened, Teresa whipped it out of her hands.

“Sorry, that’s mine Sister.”

“Well, you shouldn’t leave your things lying about for people to fall over Teresa,” she barked as she made her way to her desk.

Teresa secured Jack’s wrists and ankles to the bedframe, then used the longest belt to pin down his torso. It was an awful task to do, and Teresa felt nothing but pity for poor Jack. After she had double checked each buckle, she sat on the bed by his feet, and began to flick through the journal. She let out a disheartened sigh, because the small sections she did see, made her think of Nell.

Jack began to groan and his arms started to shake against the straps. Teresa slammed the journal shut and placed it on his bedside table as he forced open one eye, then the other.

“What the…” he uttered.

“You had a seizure Jack,” Teresa said, pouring him a glass of water. “Here.” She held up his head and tipped a tiny amount into his mouth.

He spluttered. “Nell?”

Teresa blinked slowly. She wasn’t going to lie to him, but feared talking about her would trigger off another attack. So she didn’t say a word.

“Teresa… I remember everything,” he said in a mixture of anger and upset.

“That’s really good Jack,” she replied, quiet.

“I need to talk to Nell.” Teresa placed the glass down and turned away, unable to look him in the eye. “Did you hear me?” his tone angered. “Go and get her… I need to talk to her.”

“You can’t.”

He tried to shuffle upward, while tugging on the cuffs. “Untie me,” he demanded. “You can’t bloody keep me here against my will!”

Teresa shook her head. “She’s gone.”

“Gone… gone where?”

“Look Jack, I promised her.”

Jacked frowned and lifted his shoulders from the bed. “I don’t care what you promised her. Tell me dammit!”

Teresa stood up with her eyes aimed at the floor. No matter how much she wanted to tell him, she couldn’t break a promise. Nell needed only this one thing of her.

“I’m sorry Jack, I can’t tell you. Now get some rest.”

With a quick step she walked away only to have him yelling across the ward at her. All the patients, including Sister Mary silenced at the uproar. She thrust open the cloakroom door, shutting it behind her. Just a few minutes in hiding she needed. A few minutes to calm her racing heart, and gather herself.

It was nearly time for lights out and for Teresa to leave for home. She had been tormented for three whole hours by the sound of Jack banging his shackles against the bedframe. She tried everything to block out the noise. But no matter what she did, she still had the dreadful feeling she was doing the wrong thing. Nell told her about Jack and how happy she was. How she wished she could have reversed time, and done things differently. She told her that Jack was the one. Teresa could clearly see they were meant for each other, and she had this itch to push them both in the right direction. To play cupid for her friend who she thought deserved true love.

Sister Mary threaded her arms into her navy petticoat. She glared across at Jack as Teresa walked by to give Corporal Norris some aspirin, her last job of the day.

“Teresa,” Sister Mary called.

“Yes Sister.”

“The night charge will be here shortly,” she said. “Before you go, administer Jack with the morphine shot Doctor Stanton measured out in the store,” she ordered. “These men do not need to be subjected to that clatter all night.”

Teresa looked across to Jack’s bed. He was slumped to the side and his blankets were on the floor. His shirt was loose and had rode halfway up his midriff. And his eyes, they were so destitute as he continually knocked his wrist against the metal, like some poor captured animal.

Teresa turned to Sister Mary. “Yes Sister… goodnight.”

The night charge had still not arrived. Teresa carried the kidney dish with the syringe of morphine inside, across to Jack’s bed. She drew around the green screen, listening to the tap- tap- tap. She set down the dish on the bedside table and took out the syringe.

“You’re going to knock me out,” he mumbled. “Well make sure you give me enough so I don’t wake up will you.”

Teresa exhaled, feeling a sad lump grow in her throat. He didn’t deserve to be treated this way. And he didn’t deserve to be sedated.

“Jack, if you would just wait until you’re in the right frame of mind,” Teresa appealed. “Nell has been through enough.”

“And I suppose my life’s just been peachy has it?” he grumbled. “So, she’s the one who gift wrapped my memoirs is she?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s just bloody fantastic.”

Teresa looked at the needle then to Jack. She couldn’t give him the shot, and she hated being the guilt-ridden pig in the middle.

“I just want to talk to her. I’m not going to hurt her, like that nasty slap-head she’s married to,” he appealed. “I want answers. Can you understand that?”

Teresa put the syringe back into the dish. She took a breath, and began to unbuckle Jack’s bonds. He puckered his brow, twisting his red wrists around. She removed the centre belt, then released his left ankle. He sat upright, rubbing his raw skin.

“She will never forgive me,” Teresa said, knowing if she didn’t release Jack, she would never forgive herself. “She left yesterday. To Herefordshire, Eardisland,” she said in a disappointed tone. “If you must get out of here, then wait until after lights out. The night charge will be asleep within the hour.”

“Teresa, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me Jack,” she protested. “I’ve probably just lost a good friend because of this.”

A charming two bedroom quaint thatched roofed cottage just off Prairie Lane, was where Nell had begun to make a fresh start. When she arrived three days ago, she couldn’t help but smile. It was as though she had been taken back to a different era. It was so peaceful; untouched by the horrors of war. A completely different place in comparison with war-torn Canterbury. She overlooked the rubble and destruction there, because seeing it day-in day-out over the years, became commonplace. Not just for her, but for many others also. 

Eardisland was a tiny village, much smaller than Elham, surrounded by abundant green meadows with old Tudor houses scattered here there and everywhere. Every face she came across welcomed her with a smile. And as luck would have it, she was even offered a few hours work at a small grocery store, a stones throw away from her new home. The shopkeepers, Mr Durum and his wife, were very kind to Nell when she popped in to buy milk. And would they take her money? No.
‘A good gesture for a new face,’
they said to her.

The cottage itself was secluded amongst an area of woodland. There was even a small picturesque lake right outside the backdoor she could look at, while doing the dishes. Inside, it was more than adequate for Nell. Small compared to what she was used to, but fully furnished, with a pine double bed and drawers in her bedroom. The kitchen had a working stove, and a dining table with three chairs. And the parlour was home to a big brown sofa before an open coal fire. She finally had a sense of peace in herself.

It was getting late, and the noises outside were hindering Nell’s concentration. So she put down her book, Villette by Charlotte Bronte, and decided to retire to bed. She was enjoying the book a great deal, and wanted to continue reading it. But as the wind howled, and the rain beat down on the windowpane, she grew a little nervous. The creaks, the whistling gust, and the loose shutter banging outside, made an irrational thought pop into her head. She thought of Alistair, and she wondered if she had made a mistake running away, or maybe the she hadn’t run far enough.

She checked all the doors and windows were locked, twice, and made her way up the open staircase. As she got to the top step, an aggressive knock came from the front door and put the fear of god into her. She peered anxiously over her shoulder to see the door rattle as the impatient knocking continued. She caught a breath to steady her pounding heart, attempting to talk some sense into herself.

“Nell,” she uttered. “Get a grip, it could be anyone.”

With light footing and speedy movements, she skulked down the stairs. First she decided to look out of the window. The banging had stopped, and she thought whoever it was had given up trying. She angled her head to see, when suddenly a dark figure appeared. With a gasp, she jumped back a good foot, clutching her quivering chest. All she noticed was a hat, a military hat, the kind of hat Alistair wore. Her eyes glazed in fright, but as figure removed the hat, that fright was substituted with confusion.

“Jack,” she scowled.

He moved back to the door to wait as Nell reluctantly went to open it. Her heart had never beat so fast. She was dazed by frenzied feelings, wondering how he found her and why. He had no memory of her, or so she thought. Had he come all that way because of the kiss they shared at All Angels? She flicked up the latch and opened the door.

Jack was ready. He had been travelling for eight hours straight to get his explanation. He had been on trains, buses, and even got a lift into Eardisland on the back of a farmer’s milk cart. When he did arrive in the village, it was only through sheer luck he found out where Nell was living, from a Mr Durum at the local inn: The Black Sheep. He was wet, exhausted, and in no mood for lies.

“Jack,” Nell murmured through her trembling lips, her fingers gripping the edge of the door.

He blew the rain from his face and took his journal out from his jacket pocket. Nell covered her mouth with her hand as her eyes froze in shock.

“You going to explain?” Jack asked, pokerfaced.

Nell couldn’t speak, only stare in complete numbness at a soaking wet Jack. She backed up to let him inside. How could she explain such horrible behaviour and deceit? She closed the door and hovered in guilt, facing the wood for a few seconds.

“No, you can’t can you?” he smirked. “Nell, for six years I’ve wanted to hear from you. Six years of hanging onto your strings,” he voice rose in anger. “You should have never came to say goodbye to me on that train Nell. You have no idea what that did to me.”

Nell turned with tears in her eyes as Jack glared at her. The rain from his jacket dripped onto the floor around his boots, creating a small puddle where he stood.

“Jack.” She swallowed down a knot of shame.

“You watched me in that hospital Nell,” he began to pace. “You knew who I was, and wouldn’t tell me. Would you have let them cut open my damn skull!”

“No!”

“That’s it, one little word,” he said with a snort of sarcasm. “Because I think that once again, you wanted to wash your hands of me. To pretend I don’t exist.”

Nell couldn’t say a thing. What he said, maybe to him sounded absolutely spot on. But it wasn’t the case at all for her. And Jack, he was as frustrated with her as he had ever been. It seemed as though she always wanted the barriers that had been put between them. As though she couldn’t bear the thought of being near him, regardless of the fact they belonged together.

“Well you’re just full of conversation aren’t you?”

He held onto the railway sleeper above the fire, and scrunched over with droplets falling from his messy hair. He wrote in that book for a reason, and never once thought it would result in animosity toward the one he loved. It was never meant for her eyes. It was a way for his mind to escape the battle. Men don’t spill their hearts out to no one. Yet she, had read all his personal thoughts about her. So in his eyes, she was holding all his emotional cards.

“If I bother you so much, why did you let me kiss you again in that hospital.” His tone was low and made Nell uncomfortable. “Is the reason to screw up my head more, to see if you still have the knack for it?” he grunted, already aware he was beyond crazy and now looked desperate for being there. “Because congratulations Nell, you’ve succeeded yet again.”

“Jack, it’s not like that.” Nell took just one small step closer.

“You married that… that twisted piece of shite, why?”

He gazed straight at her. He wanted to see her body and how she would react. He wanted to know if she did really marry Alistair for love.

“Love don’t make you bruise Nell.” He watched her chin drop down to her chest, angering at her silence. “Nell!”

“I married Alistair for you Jack,” Nell yelled with passion. “You have no idea.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“That night we spent together, we were seen. My father forbid me from seeing you… told me he would make sure your entire family weren’t welcome in Elham.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “What was I supposed to do!”

Jack laughed scornfully. He couldn’t believe that the girl he knew would bow down to anyone. She was like a free bird when they were together.

“What you wanted Nell. Jeez, I don’t give two hoots about your dad.”

“He would have ran you out of town,” she snivelled. “I didn’t want that.”

Jack laughed again. “No Nell, you did that all on your own,” he shook his head, disappointed. “You’re the reason I left. You and you alone.”

“Jack, I’m sorry,” Nell sobbed. “I know what I did… what I’ve done.”

“What about your husband Nell, do you love him?”

“No,” she whispered.

“You let him beat you. How many times?”

Jack wanted her to face reality. For her to understand how low she must have been to have gone through all that. It was shredding away at his soul. The image of those bruises. The thought of Alistair hurting her was killing him inside. He was mad with her, and couldn’t understand it. But for Nell, it was a nightmare she couldn’t break away from. She didn’t want to talk about it, think about it, or go through it all again. She finally got out, and that was all that mattered to her.

“Nell?”

“Please… don’t Jack,” she pleaded.

Jack released all the air from his lungs, struggling not to show his intense emotions. It was so hard to do, watching her stand there: frightened, demoralized, and confused.

“Why didn’t you talk to me? What did you think I would do- hate you?”

“I read your journal Jack. You want a new life; an escape from me.”

Jack blinked slowly, clenching his jaw. “You have made me fall in love with you twice now Nell. I will never be able to escape from you. I never wanted to.” Nell’s shoulders dropped as her head lowered. “Please, tell me what you want.” Jack moved toward her, feeling his heart throb hard against his ribcage. “Just you Nell, nobody else… what you want?”

Bit by bit her head rose. She gazed at Jack through her hazy tears. There was only one answer; there always had been.

Her chest swelled with deep pain. “You Jack. It was always you.”

Jack burst across the room, firmly laying his hands on her face. Now passion was spilling out of them both, as they shared an aggressive kiss. Hands moved, pressed, and pulled at clothing. Each breath was arduous with a desire suppressed inside for so long. And as Nell’s legs wrapped around Jack’s waist, furniture became invisible. Nothing was going to stand in the way of making up for all those years of their lost love.

Jack laid Nell gently down on the couch and crawled over her. He pushed his nose against hers and gazed down. Nell scaled her fingertips up his face, to rest her hand on his cheek. They just needed to take each other in. To see, feel, and touch.

“No more hiding Nell,” Jack said softly. “Not from me, or yourself… promise me.”

“Promise. I won’t let you go this time Jack.”