An Impartial Witness: A Bess Crawford Mystery - By Charles Todd Page 0,1

something else.

Still, I felt a surge of pity, and my training was to comfort, not ignore, as her companion was doing.

I was about to walk around them when a whistle blew and she lifted her head to cast an anguished glance at the train, as if afraid it was on the point of departing.

I had the shock of my life.

I’d seen her before. There was no doubt about it.

Hers was the face in the photograph that the pilot, Lieutenant Evanson, had kept by his side like a talisman during his treatment in France and in all the long journey home. His wife, he’d said. There was no doubt about that either.

I couldn’t be mistaken. I’d seen that photograph too many times as I worked with him, I’d seen it that very morning, in fact, when I’d changed his bandages one last time. She was looking up at the officer now, her eyes pleading with him. I couldn’t be sure who was leaving whom. But just then the engine’s wheels began to move and the officer—I couldn’t see his rank, he was wearing a trench coat against the rain—bent swiftly to say something to her, kissed her briefly, and then hurried toward the train.

She lifted a hand as if to stop him then let it drop. He swung himself into the nearest compartment, shut the door, and didn’t look back. She stood there, forlornly watching him until he was out of sight.

It had all happened rather quickly, and I had no idea who this man might be, but I had the distinct impression that she never expected to see him again. Women sometimes had dreams or premonitions about loved ones, more a reflection of their own fears than true foreboding. They usually hid these well as they sent their men off to fight. But perhaps hers had been particularly vivid and she couldn’t help herself. It would explain his restraint and her desolation.

Before I could move on, she turned and literally dashed toward the exit. I tried to follow, but I lost her in the crush. By the time I reached the street, she was in a sea of black umbrellas as people made their way toward the line of cabs waiting there.

I gave up my search after several minutes, and found a cab of my own to take me to the flat. I wasn’t sure what I’d have done if I’d caught up with Mrs. Evanson, but I’d have felt better knowing she’d taken a cab rather than tried to walk off her low spirits in this chill rain.

Mrs. Hennessey opened her door as I came into the hall, smiling up at me in welcome. From her own ground-floor flat she watched us come and go, took in our mail when we weren’t there, brought us soup when we were ill, and generally kept an eye on us without in any way intruding.

“Bess, my dear! And just look how wet you are.”

She embraced me with warmth, then added, “You’ve just missed Elayne. She left this morning. Mary is in London, but staying with her brother’s family, and there’s been no word from Diana since she went back last week. Is there anything you need? I must say, you do look tired. How long will you be here?”

I laughed. “Thirty-six hours. Thirty-five now. And yes, I’m tired. And I’m glad to have the flat to myself. I want only to sleep.”

“And you must do just that. I’ll see that you have a nice tea. You look thin to me, Bess Crawford, and what would your mother say to that?”

“We sometimes miss meals,” I admitted. “You won’t tell Mama, will you?”

For some time I’d had a sneaking suspicion that my mother and Mrs. Hennessey had entered into a conspiracy to keep me safe. Choosing nursing as my contribution to the war effort hadn’t been met with the greatest enthusiasm at home. The Colonel Sahib, my father, had no sons to follow in his footsteps, and while I believed he was secretly quite proud of me, he was also well aware that war had an ugly face, and nursing sisters saw the worst of what war cost.

Mrs. Hennessey said, “Which reminds me, Sergeant-Major Brandon stopped here last week. He took Diana to dinner before she left.”

I felt a flicker of jealousy. Simon usually came to dine with me when he was in London. He’d served with my father in all our postings around the Empire, and now lived near us in Somerset when