Carol tucked in, while Alice picked skeptically at her plate.
“You might have more of an appetite if you got what’s bothering you off of your chest,” said Carol, talking with her mouth full. Alice poked at a piece of potato with her fork and made a face. “Fine. I’m probably just being stubborn and presumptuous, but a little while from now when you’re taking the bus home, you’ll think what an idiot you were for having wasted half of the day without even having tasted this stew. Especially since you’re the one that’s footing the bill. Come on, tell me what’s bothering you. You know the silent treatment drives me mad.”
Alice finally told her about the recurrent nightmare that had been plaguing her sleep, and the unhappiness that weighed upon her waking hours.
“Let me tell you a story,” said Carol. “I was on duty the night of the first Blitz bombing. The wounded were pouring in. Most of them were burn victims coming in on foot, as best they could. Some of our staff had deserted the hospital to take shelter, but most of us had stayed at our posts. I was there out of cowardice, not courage; I was too scared to go out into the streets, and petrified at the idea of burning to death in a firestorm. After about an hour, the number of patients coming in dropped off, and the head doctor on duty, Doctor Turner—who, by the way, is so handsome he could turn the head of a nun—gathered us together to tell us that if nobody was coming in, it was because they were caught under the rubble and that we ought to go out and search for them. We were dumbstruck. He told us that none of us were obligated to go, but that those who weren’t afraid should take the stretchers and head into the streets. There were lives to be saved out there.”
“Did you go?”
“Don’t make fun of me, but no. I went and hid in the broom closet for two hours. I just curled up and closed my eyes. I wanted to disappear, so I convinced myself that I was back in my bedroom in St Mawes.”
“You shouldn’t be ashamed. I wouldn’t have been any more courageous than you.”
“Yes, you would have, I’m sure of it. Anyway, when I went back to work, I was ashamed but alive. I crept around, avoiding Doctor Turner for days, but as luck would have it, I was eventually assigned to assist with an amputation he was performing. And as though that weren’t humiliating enough, we happened to be in the scrub room at the same time. While we were getting ready, I confessed how I had hid on the day of the first bombing. I thought I was making a complete fool of myself.”
“How did he react?”
“He asked me to help him with his gloves and told me it was only human to be afraid. He told me how he was often afraid before going into surgery.”
Carol pushed her empty plate across the table and started eating Alice’s untouched stew.
“But he told me that as soon as he went into the operating theatre, he left his fears behind him. I tried to sleep with him not long after that, but the fool was married and faithful to his wife. Anyway, three days later there was another raid. That time I went out into the streets with a group of doctors and nurses. I picked through the rubble, as close to the flames as I am to you now. At one point that night, I was so scared I actually pissed myself.” She paused to swallow. “But enough about me. You haven’t been the same since our trip to Brighton. Something is bothering you, I can tell. The flames are burning, you may not see them, but they’re ruining your nights. Stop hiding in that broom closet and face your fears. I was terrified those nights that I was searching for the wounded, but doing something was so much better than staying huddled up inside my own prison.”
“But what can I possibly do? I don’t know the cause.”
“Your solitude will be the end of you! You dream of a perfect love story, but you’re too afraid to let yourself go. The idea of being dependent or even attached to somebody throws you into a panic. Do I have to remind you about Anton? I don’t know whether that old woman was a charlatan or the real thing, but she told you that the man of your dreams is waiting for you. So go to Turkey for God’s sake! You’ve got savings. Borrow some money if you have to. Take that trip and go find out for yourself whether he’s waiting for you or not. Even if you don’t run into him, you’ll be free because you won’t have anything left to regret.”
“How am I supposed to get to Turkey?”
“I’m a nurse, love, not a travel agent. Speaking of which, I’d best be going. I won’t charge you for the psychotherapy, but I’ll let you pick up the bill.”
Carol got up, slipped into her coat, and kissed Alice before leaving. Alice got up and ran after her, catching her on the pavement outside.
“Do you really mean what you just said about going to Istanbul?”
“Would I have admitted to pissing myself if I didn’t? Get back inside. Do you want to catch a cold again? I can’t take care of you full time.”
Alice went back to the table and sat where Carol had been sitting. She ordered a coffee and a plate of mutton stew.
Traffic was dense, and Alice’s bus was moving at a crawl on her ride home. Horse carts, motorcycles with sidecars, delivery trucks, and motorcars all seemed to be trying to cross the junction at the same time. Daldry would have loved it, she thought. The bus pulled to a halt, and Alice’s gaze fell upon a tiny shop wedged between a grocer’s and the closed shutters of an antique dealer. The sign above the door read THOS. COOK & SON LTD. She fell into daydreaming for a moment before the bus lurched forward again.
Alice got off at the next stop and walked back up the street and entered the travel agency. A stand near the entrance was covered with colorful brochures advertising holidays in exotic places, such as France, Spain, Switzerland, Italy, Egypt, and Greece. The assistant stepped from behind the counter to greet her.
“Planning to travel, madam?”
“Not really. I’m just looking.”
“If you’re thinking about a honeymoon, I’d recommend Venice. It’s magnificent in the spring. Otherwise, there’s Spain: Madrid, Seville, the Mediterranean coast. More and more of our customers are going to Spain, and they always come back thrilled.”
“Oh, I’m not getting married,” said Alice politely.
“Nothing forbids a person from traveling alone these days. Everybody needs to take a little break now and again. For a woman, I’d advise Switzerland. Geneva and its lake are very peaceful and utterly charming.”
“Do you have anything on Turkey?” asked Alice timidly.
“Istanbul. Excellent choice. I myself have dreamed of going there one day. Hagia Sophia, the Bosporus . . . Let me see, I have the information here somewhere. Things are a bit out of order.” He rummaged through the drawers of a tall cabinet. “Here it is. This is a relatively complete little booklet. I also have a guide I can loan you if you’re interested, but you’ll have to promise to bring it back.”
“Oh, the brochure will be just fine,” said Alice, thanking him.
“Here, I’ll give you an extra one,” he said. He saw her to the door and told her to come back whenever she felt like it. Alice said goodbye and went to catch the next bus.
A wet snow began to fall. One of the bus’s windows was jammed open, and an icy wind blew through. Alice took the brochures out of her handbag and flipped through them, hoping the sight of sunny foreign landscapes and blue skies might warm her up a bit.
When she finally got home, she had to stand in the hall and sift through the contents of her handbag before she found her keys. An hour later, Daldry came home and found one of the brochures lying where it had fallen. He picked it up and smiled.
There was a knock at the door. Alice opened it to find Daldry holding a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other.
“May I?” he asked.
“Make yourself at home,” said Alice, standing aside to let him in.
Daldry sat down in front of the trunk and poured two generous glasses of wine. He handed one to Alice and they toasted.