A Rose in No-Man's Land by Margaret Tanner

shoulder held her down.
    “Don’t try getting up. You’re not strong enough yet.”
    “I am. Oh, I am, now you’re here. Are you all right? How’s Guy?”
    “Doing fine, laughing and joking. He’s done well, been mentioned in dispatches for what he did at Courtney’s Post. Could even get a medal out of it.”
    Mark sat on the bed and picked up one of her hands, drawing it to his lips. “Mmm, you taste good.”
    He appeared lean and tanned, but worry had gouged deep lines around his mouth. Strands of gray flecked his hair now, and his moustache was gone. Hungrily she devoured every detail of this handsome face she’d missed so much.
    “But Mark, what are you doing here?”
    His fingers stroked, feather soft, across her cheek. “I came to see the beautiful Sister Amy, of course.”
    “You didn’t bother writing.”
    “I know, my darling, but what could I say? You don’t need me to tell you about death and suffering. You’ve lived with it for weeks yourself.”
    “It’s been awful.” Her eyes darkened with pain. “Thousands of casualties. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Billy Carstairs, one of our neighbors from Kilmore, died on board ship from terrible stomach wounds.”
    “Shh, don’t upset yourself. When this terrible war is over, we’ll go away somewhere together. Just the two of us,” he promised fervently.
    She reached up to trail her fingers across his face. Lightning fast, he grasped her wrist and planted a kiss on her upturned palm.
    “How did you know I was sick?”
    “One of the orderlies told me, on Anzac. I went down for a swim, as a matter of fact. You know how blue the Aegean is.”
    “When it isn’t running red with blood,” she murmured, her voice trembling with remembered horror.
    “You feel too much,” he soothed. “Anyway, I ran into some chaps evacuating casualties. I overheard them telling one of the wounded he chose the wrong time to cop it, because Sister Amy was sick in hospital on Lemnos and wouldn’t be on the run with them for a while. I butted in on the conversation to find out exactly what happened with their ‘Angel of the Aegean.’”
    “Oh, Mark, angel indeed. What a lot of rot.”
    “It’s true. That’s what they called you. I swear it.”
    “You’re exaggerating.”
    “I’m not.”
    It warmed him, gave him hope amidst the carnage, to remember the other things they’d said. How her compassion reached out to envelope everyone. No matter how busy or tired, she always had a word of encouragement or time to soothe a fevered brow. She had been caught writing letters for patients late into the night, when she should have been resting. When water became short, she shared her own ration.
    Dear God, if only he could take her away from all this suffering before it sapped her strength and drained her golden youth. She wouldn’t go—instinctively he knew this—not when the wounded needed her.
    “I’m feeling better already.” She sat up so suddenly it caught him by surprise. “How long are you staying?”
    “Until it gets dark. I’m going back with some supplies. The firing has been so intense some of the wounded have been shot again on the beach as they waited for evacuation. They’re being taken off at night and supplies landed at the same time.”
    “So, we can spend a little while together.” Happiness gave a lilt to her voice, and he watched warmth returning to her cheeks because of his presence. It empowered him, gave him hope that, one day, things might turn out for them.
    “You’ve been very ill.”
    “I’m all right now you’re here. I’ll get Jane to bring my clothes. After I get dressed, we can go for a walk along the beach.”
    “Are you sure? I don’t want you overdoing things and getting sick again.”
    “I’m well and strong now. Captain Adams promised…”
    “The young, skinny doctor?”
    “Yes, he’s rather sweet.”
    “What did he promise?” Mark felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. Another man