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A soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘Yes.’
‘She said yes.’ The loud voice belonged to Private Sanders in the bed closest to them.
Clapping erupted on the other side of the curtain, and when Seamus pulled it back, most of the patients were watching them.
Heat rose in Meg’s cheeks and her hands rose to cover them. She was happy. Deliriously happy. It lasted for thirty seconds, until Matron stepped into the ward, Meg and Seamus in her sights.
‘Have we won the war, and someone forgot to tell me?’ Her voice had a frosty edge at odds with the building heat outside and her gaze swept over each side of the ward, finally returning to Seamus standing tall by Meg’s side and holding her hand.
‘Corporal Flanagan, please unhand Sister Dorset.’
Seamus turned to Meg and raised her hand to his lips before releasing his hold. ‘Only a direct order could make me let you go.’ He walked towards Matron. ‘Will you spare my fiancée for a few minutes so we can say our goodbyes, pretty please, Matron?’
‘Fiancée, is it? Since when?’
‘About a minute ago, Matron,’ Simpson called out from his bed.
‘Right romantic it was, Matron,’ added Johnny Matthews in the bed next to Simpson.
Matron held up both hands and the good-natured joshing subsided. ‘Since you’ve apparently accepted this soldier’s proposal—against all advice to the contrary, Sister—you may have five minutes to send him on his way.’
‘Thank you, Matron.’ Meg grabbed Seamus’s hand on the way out of the ward and ran with him along the side of the hospital until they were out of sight of the soldiers unloading the truck. The unloading was almost finished, and Meg knew they had little time to say goodbye.
Her chest felt tight. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but that was the way of this beastly war. Too many goodbyes and no time to prepare for them.
At the rear of the hospital Seamus pulled her into his arms and kissed her, kisses that told her how much he loved her. Hers were more than a little desperate at the thought of not seeing him for weeks—months. She pulled back and held his face in her hands. ‘Don’t you dare let anything happen to you. Come back to me in one piece.’
‘You have my promise.’ He let her go, reached behind his neck and removed the chain she’d noticed under his dog tags. He held it out for her to see. ‘I don’t have a ring to give you, Meg, but I want you to wear my St Christopher medal. I know you aren’t Catholic, but, even though he’s the patron saint of travellers, I believe he’ll keep you safe while I’m away. Will you wear it?’
‘What about you? You’re the one going off to fight. I want you to stay safe. Why don’t you—’
Seamus reached around her neck and did up the clasp then kissed her, a soft kiss full of promise. ‘With my St Christopher medal, I take you as my bride-to-be.’
From the track, a truck horn blared, insistent, not to be refused.
‘I’ve got to go. Remember, I love you, Meg. I always will.’ He jogged backwards, blew her a kiss then turned the corner of the building and was gone.
Meg picked up the medal, warm from his skin. She pressed it to her lips. I’m engaged! Excitement coursed through her, mixed with a sharp sense of loss. His proposal was crazy and ridiculously quick and wonderful all at the same time.
How long would it be before he returned, and they could be married? How long before she became both wife and mother? Hugging herself, she let tears of both joy and sadness run down her cheeks and clung to the memory of Seamus’s kisses. Memory was all she had until he returned.
***
The signal from theArmed Forces radio show cut in and out before it settled. Frank Sinatra was crooning This Love of Mine, a big hit from the previous year. Meg looked around the group of off duty staff, both Aussies and a few Americans from down the road, and ambulatory patients. They were gathered in the mess tent to listen to the radio and drink tea. The Americans served alcohol at their social gatherings, so Mary had told her, but Meg had traded places to avoid such get togethers until tonight. Tonight, Mary had practically marched her into the mess tent and pushed her onto a chair.
‘Repeat after me: I will enjoy myself.’
‘I will try, Mary. I promise.’ With Seamus gone, Meg doubted her ability to enjoy the evening, but for her friend’s sake, she smiled. ‘Thanks for swapping shifts.’
‘Heaven knows, you’ve done the same for others. Dance, have fun, be young.’ Mary gave her a brief one-armed hug and hurried back to the ward.
Meg looked around to see who else had the night off. In the corner, Dr Hampton turned his back on the assembly and held his mug out. Cookie glanced towards Matron, who had agreed to one dance with Captain Keller. As the captain turned her away from them, Cookie— the source of Seamus’ beer that wonderful night they’d made love for the first time—tipped something into Doc’s mug and grinned before slipping the bottle into his pocket.
Meg rested her chin on her hand and set her elbow on her knee and sighed, wishing Seamus were here to dance with her. If she closed her eyes, she could see him and imagine him standing in front of her and saying—
‘Sister, may I have this dance?’
Her eyes sprang open and she sat up straight. Private Matthews, newly out of his hospital bed, stood in front of her, one hand extended and waiting for her answer.
