"Oh Lord, Reverend Wallace!" I exclaimed. "I am sorry, I didn't see you there. You quite alarmed me!"

"I am so sorry, Victoria. I saw that you were engrossed in something as you danced along the grass. I should have made a sound or something."

I suddenly felt quite uneasy in the presence of this man of the cloth although I was not sure why. There was something about his manner I did not like.

I had grown up in the Methodist faith where the ministers were more authoritarian.

Reverend Wallace was different. He seemed friendly enough but there was something in his tone, in his demeanour, that I just did not like.

I had felt it at the dinner party and I felt it now. I believed what Bethany had said about him and I felt that he knew what would happen to her.

All this was just a feeling, however and it would have been very wrong of me to have accused him without any evidence.

As it was, I smiled sweetly and replied, "Don't worry, Reverend, I am sure I will get over it. Besides, it will teach me to look where I am going."

He smiled back.

"It is a little chilly this morning."

"Yes," I agreed, "I am glad I brought my shawl out with me." As I spoke I pulled the shawl tighter around my shoulders and over my chest for I had noticed that, as he had made the statement about being 'chilly', he had not been looking at my face but a little lower down at the two small bumps showing through my dress.

I shivered.

"So, what brings you out on this beautiful morning, Victoria?"

He clasped his hands at his chest. Something I had seen that ministers were prone to do.

Oh, well, I was going to see Sister Watson," I replied, "but it is still a little early so I thought I would enjoy the gardens while I waited."

"Ah yes, Sister Watson. A lovely young woman indeed." Reverend Wallace seemed to be talking more to himself than me and there it was again, that uneasy feeling inside.

“Now, will I see you in church this evening, young lady?” He suddenly snapped back to reality.

“I don't know, Reverend.” I answered him truthfully. “I am not a member of the Church of England, I am of the Methodist faith so I really am not sure.”

“Ah, my dear.” He spoke piously. “We all follow the teachings of Christ do we not? Surely it is better to worship in my church than to not worship at all?”

“I do not know, Reverend. If that is so, why do we have different beliefs and different sects if we all believe the same thing?”

“Hmm.. well,” he rubbed his chin, “I should like to stand and discuss this with you, my dear, but I really must be on my way. I have a sermon to prepare.”

He reached out his hands to me but I neatly stepped back saying:

“Yes, indeed, I am sure you have and I am sure your good lady wife will be wondering where you are.”

The vicar's eyes narrowed a little as I continued, “Good morning to you, Reverend.” and walked quickly away never once looking back to see if he was watching me.

I reached the secluded garden a few minutes later and sat upon the cast iron bench. It was cold and dew covered but I remained seated until I grew accustomed to it.

Looking down at my feet, I saw that my shoes were soaking wet and my toes had become a little chilled because of it. I removed a shoe and placed it on the bench beside me then gently massaged some warmth back into my foot. The garden was still in shadow due to the tall hedges surrounding it so it had not yet had the sun to warm it.

I refitted my shoe and repeated the process with the other and soon, I was beginning to feel a little warmer.

I became aware of a presence at the archway in the hedge and looked up to see who it was.

“You followed me here?” I said, not without a little irritation sounding in my voice, “I thought you had a sermon to write.”

“I do, my dear.” Reverend Wallace replied, “but I wanted to talk to you first. Do you mind if I sit with you for a minute?”

“Not at all.” I replied, shuffling along to the end of the bench. “I don't plan on being too long here though.”

“I won't keep you.” he replied and sat beside me. So close that I could not move either left or right.

Whilst he sat I noticed him looking at my stockinged foot. My shoe was in my hand so I quickly refitted it and put my foot back on the ground. I sat upright and placed my gloved hands upon my knees in as demur a fashion as I was able without seeming too rude.

“You have pretty feet, Victoria, such sweet toes.”

“Do I?” I responded, rather sharply and without smiling. This time it was my eyes that narrowed.

“ Mmm... yes, very nice indeed.” He was still looking down at my shoes.

“So what do you wish to talk to me about then?” I asked. I was curious now and more than a little nervous.

“Oh, ah, yes, indeed!” he blustered. “Well, I wondered about whether you had been taught about... erm, biology, shall we say?”

So, that was it. He wanted to talk about sex. I may not have experienced it until last night but I knew what it was and this dirty minded vicar was not going to learn anything about me. All the same, it would not do any harm to have a little fun.

“Oh yes.” I answered him, feigning innocence, “We did biology at school. How plants grow and how different parts of the body work and so on.”

I had only met him less than forty-eight hours ago but I already felt he was up to no good.

“Oh, ahem, erm, no.” Again, he blustered, “No. I meant with respect to, erm, ahh...”

“I know what you mean, Vicar!” I narrowed my eyes as I spoke, and pursed my lips. “and I can quite assure you that should I need to speak about such matters with anyone, it will not be with you!”

“Oh, I say. There is no need to talk to to me in such a manner, young lady!”

“Is there not, Vicar?” I almost hissed at him. “I know what you did to the maid at dinner. Be warned. If you ever try such a trick with me or touch me in any way at all, you will regret it. Do I make myself clear?”

Reverend Wallace jumped to his feet.

“Well I never!” he stated sharply.

“Then keep it that way and all will be well. Good day to you Reverend.”

I smiled in a way that I hoped would be menacing as he turned and stormed off the way he had come.

I leaned against the backrest of the bench, my heart pounding and my legs feeling awfully weak for a while. The adrenalin which had kept me shored up whilst I spoke up against the vicar had now dissipated and I just sat until I calmed down and, as I waited, the sun began to appear above the top of the neatly trimmed hedge. I felt its warming rays against my face and immediately felt much better.

After a short while, I looked at the watch on my wrist. It was past nine O'clock now so I rose and left the little flower garden, walking towards the main house.

A large, dark green car was parked in front of the main entrance. It was an army staff car, I supposed, as it had lettering on it which was not like advertising I had seen on wagons and carts which were used by businesses but just plain white initials and numbers along the sides of the bonnet.

It was a very smart looking car. The brass radiator gleamed as did the windscreen frame and all the brass of the headlights and handles. The khaki canvas cover was folded neatly behind the rear seats.

The driver was sitting stiffly behind the steering wheel and I saw that it was Charlie Manston.

He must have been the main driver here.

As I approached, he looked round and spied me.

“Ah, Miss 'arcourt.” he said immediately, touching his fingertip to the brim of his smart uniform cap “Lovely mornin' ain't it?”

“Yes,” I replied, thinking immediately of my recent contact with the vicar and smiling, “It certainly is.”

I looked along the length of the gleaming car and back to it's smartly uniformed driver.

“Beautiful car.”

The driver smiled,

“It is, Miss. It's a Crossley.”

“Oh, I'm afraid that means nothing to me. I don't know the first thing about motor cars.”

“The manufacturer, Miss.”

“Ah, I see. Do you have to keep it like this, gleaming?” I asked, genuinely curious about why he seemed to be everywhere.

“Yes, 'fraid so, Miss. As the senior driver here, well, there aren't many of us drivers in fact, I am responsible for the Major-General's car and it 'as to be clean and ready at all times.”

As he spoke, Sir Michael appeared at the top of the steps of the portico.

“Oh, 'scuse me, Miss.”

I stepped back clear of the door, which then swung open and Charlie Manston jumped out, marched smartly around the back of the car, and opened the rear door before Sir Michael had even descended the steps.

I followed him.

“Why, young Miss Harcourt! What a pleasant surprise!” Sir Michael took my proffered hand and gently shook it. “What brings you here on such a beautiful Sunday morning?”

“Good morning, Sir Michael.” I replied, my right hand still in his grip. “I was on my way to visit Sister Watson when I saw this beautiful car.”

Sir Michael chuckled.

“Well, it is not a Rolls-Royce but, yes, it is a nice car.”

“A Crossley, I believe.” I said, trying to look knowledgeable.

“Yes, indeed it is!” Sir Michael's eyebrows rose to their fullest extent. “My, my, you are clever.”

I laughed.

“No, not really,” I smiled at Charlie Manston, “Your driver told me.”

The old man began chuckling.

“My comment is still valid then, hohoho...” He glanced sideways at his driver, “I will need to keep my wits about me in front of this one, eh, what, Private?”

Charlie, still at attention, holding the open door, smiled stiffly back.

“Yes, Sir, I believe you will, Sir.”

“If you will forgive me, my dear, I must depart.

I am attending the ten O'clock service at St. Mary-le-Tower in Ipswich. You may join me if you wish.”

He drew his hand across his waist, pointing his cane at the open car door.

“Oh! Thank you, Sir Michael.” I said, somewhat surprised at the offer, “But, no, thank you. It is very kind of you to offer but I am really not prepared for church and I would make you late if I went to change.”

“As you wish. Another time perhaps.” He stepped up into the back seat and his driver closed the door behind him before marching to the front of the car and swinging the handle to start the engine.

On the second swing, the engine chugged into life and he climbed up into the drivers seat,

Suddenly, Sir Michael tapped the driver on the shoulder with his stick.

“Just a moment, Manston.” he said, before turning to me.

“I just remembered.” he said, “Sister Watson is not in the office this morning. I believe she is doing a ward tour with Elizabeth.”

“Oh, all right, Thank you, Sir Michael.” I replied.

“Okay, Manston. Orf we go!” he said, tapping Charlie again on the shoulder and, with a gentle rattle as first gear was selected the gleaming car whined away down the drive, the tyres scrunching softly as they rolled slowly over the loose gravel.

I stood and watched as the low sun glinted off the car's bright-work then turned my thoughts to what I was going to do about lunch with Thomas.

For a moment I was at a loss about what to do now. My only thought was to see Phil and then arrange a picnic but that idea was gone, at least for the time being.

As I pondered the dilemma a man's voice behind made me turn sharply.

"Don't stand still, don't stand still, they will get you!"

It was a man in pyjamas.

"Who will get me?" I asked him.

"The Hun snipers, Jerry! Got to keep moving, Don't stand still!" All the time he spoke he was looking around. Left, right and left again.

Suddenly he grabbed my arm.

"Come on, quickly, get under cover! Don't stand still!"

I ran with him to the side of the portico where he cowered beside the steps, still looking around, his eyes full of abject fear.

I crouched beside him and waited, as Philomena had instructed me.

I studied him for a time. He was considerably older than I was, late twenties I guessed, his black hair slicked back with brilliantine and his hazel brown eyes flashed from side to side.

Cleanly shaven, save for a small black moustache, I got the feeling he was not just a private soldier.

Within a few minutes, his breathing had calmed and the flame had gone from his eyes.

Now he looked confused and began to look about once again, only this time with incomprehension rather than fear.

Presently, he spoke:

"Where am I?" he asked no-one in particular.

"You are safe in England." I told him as gently as I could.

He looked directly at me.

"Am I dead?" he asked. "Are you an angel?"

I smiled at him.

"No, you are not dead." I paused as he regained some recognition, "I am Victoria Harcourt."

"Victoria..." he began.

"Yes, Victoria." I confirmed, "What is your name?"

"I, I... I don't know..." He hung his head for a moment then looked up at me again.

"Where am I?" he asked again, "Why is it so quiet?"

“You are at Woolverstone hall in Suffolk.” I told him, trying hard not to spook him further, “Don't you remember?”

Suddenly, he stared at me, eyes full of distrust.

“You are lying! You are trying to trick me! I won't tell you anything!”

I began to feel a little scared. This man was clearly deranged and I had no idea how he would react. All I could do was hope that a little kindness may bring him back to his senses.

“I would not trick you.” I said, as kindly as I possibly could. “You are home, in England. I don't want you to tell me anything. Don't worry, please. You are safe, I promise.”

His once again wild eyes stared at me, as if trying to see inside my head so I held his gaze and smiled softly then held out my hand to him.

He looked at it and reached slowly out as if wanting to trust me but something inside his head was fighting the desire.

I remained perfectly still and finally, he overcame his fears and touched my fingertips, just for a moment then, suddenly, he jumped up and fell back against the wall, letting out a high pitched scream.

“No, no, it's a trick!” he screamed, and began to sob.

At that moment, Philomena appeared along with Major Middleton and two orderlies.

I stood up and just looked at him. My own eyes began to fill with tears. Never in my short life had I seen anything so pitiful, so upsetting.

“Step back a little, Victoria, slowly.” Sister Watson made a gesture with her hand as she almost whispered the words. As I moved carefully away, Major Middleton indicated to the two orderlies to take hold of the poor man but with care and dignity.

“Come, now, Sarge, we got yer. Yer all right now. Let's get yer back t' barracks” and the two men led him gently away.

As they began to go, the poor soul turned his head to face me and through his sobs I heard:

“Don’t stand still, don't stand still...” but I did stand still. I stood still and watched as the orderlies guided him carefully up the steps and I watched until they disappeared through the huge open doorway.

Once they had disappeared Philomena came to me and put her arm around my shoulder and offered me her handkerchief.

“Are you all right, Victoria?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

I sniffed and dabbed my eyes with the soft cotton square and took a deep breath.

“Yes, I am fine, thank you,” I replied, “but so sad. What made him that way, Phil?”

Sister Watson looked to Major Middleton for the answer.

“Well, Victoria.” The Major began, “We don't know know exactly what happened to him... or even who he is. He was found wandering aimlessly in no-man’s land after an assault on the German lines, at Frezenberg ridge, just a few short weeks ago. He was dressed in just army trousers and a ragged and bloodied shirt on which he wore sergeant stripes. His mind is so badly damaged that we think he may have been captured and tortured. As you saw, he seems to think everyone wants information from him, which, of course, we do but only so we can find out who he is.”

“That is terrible for him!” I gasped, “Do you think he will get better... ever?”

The two nurses looked at each other before Philomena turned back to me.

“We don't know, in truth, Victoria. He has only been here a few days. We didn't intervene straight away when we saw him with you although you did not see us. What we saw as he talked with you was the most he has said to anyone since he was found on the battle ground. He has never been violent but when he screamed we thought we had better intervene, just in case.”

“I didn't think he would hurt me.” I agreed, “but, all the same, I wasn't sure and was a little nervous.”

Major Middleton had appeared thoughtful as Sister Watson was speaking.

“Come to my office.” she said slowly, “Both of you. We will take tea. I have an idea...”

Elizabeth Middleton's office was somewhat larger than that of Philomena. As I had noticed the day before, it had two windows and was more sumptuously furnished compared to the spartan but functional fittings for the young nurse.

Phil and I sat beside each other in the large sofa as Elizabeth made tea. She passed us cups and saucers and offered sugar than sat at her large oak desk with its leather top that matched the sofa.

Pausing to gather her thoughts, she looked at each of us in turn then began to speak.

“Victoria...” she said, looking directly at me, “I have only met you once before but I have seen in you a caring yet strong personality. I think you could be of great help to us here...” she turned to Sister Watson, “Don't you think so Philomena?”

Philomena smiled at me.

“I do, Major. I think if anyone could gain that poor man's trust, she can.”

I was at a loss for words. I was just eighteen and had seen very little of life outside school and yet, here were two highly experienced nurses asking for my help. My face began to burn.

“Well, I suppose... I mean, if you think I could help. I would be glad to.”

“Good, that is settled then.” Major Middleton smiled at me, “I will speak to Lady Helen presently, as she is your guardian but, for now, thank you, Victoria.”

I sipped my tea quietly for a moment before turning to Philomena, asking, “I wanted to ask something, about Thomas Billington.”

“Ah yes,” she replied, “I had heard you spent a lot of time with him yesterday.”

“Yes, I like him. I wondered if it was all right to make up a picnic for him at lunch time. Does he need anything special?”

The two nurses looked at each other before Elizabeth replied.

I am afraid that will have to wait, Victoria. Gunner Billington had a bad fit last night. We have had to sedate him. He is quite sick I'm afraid.”

My heart seemed to miss a bit at this news.

“Will he recover?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“I am afraid we don't know at this stage, Victoria.”

To be continued...