Maisie and Simon Lynch saw each other at exactly the same time, and moved quickly through the throng of visitors. The thumping of Maisie's heart seemed to radiate to her throat, and stopped the words of greeting she had so carefully planned. Simon simply stood in front of her, took both her hands in his and looked into her eyes.
"I thought I would never see you again, Maisie."
Maisie nodded and looked down at their hands held together.
A deep, throaty "Ahem!" brought Simon and Maisie's attention back into the room. Iris was looking at her feet, inspecting the soles of her shoes, when the man accompanying Simon spoke.
"Think you could introduce us, Lynch? Don't know how you folks do things, but where I'm from, we try to get acquainted."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Maisie, Iris, may I introduce Captain Charles Hayden. Currently sporting a British uniform, but as you can hear, he's an American. Good man came over here with the Massachusetts General Hospital contingent to do his bit. God bless them all. We've been exchanging notes about dealing with gas poisoning. Charles--Miss Maisie Dobbs and Miss Iris Rigson."
"And delighted to meet you. It was worth coming all this way. And Lynch was becoming a bit of a bore, as you might say. Well, are we going to eat, or stand here all evening? Personally I'm for eating."
"Me too," said Iris.
Charles Hayden provided the group with a much-needed dose of humor at dinner, and as time passed the waves of conversation shifted, so that the voices of Hayden and Iris could be heard above all others, laughing loudly, teasing, and generally exchanging good cheer. Instinctively they had assumed the task of allowing their friends the intimacy that can be had, even in a crowded room, when two people want only to be with each other.
"I have longed to see you, Maisie, and yet now that you are here, I hardly know what to say."
"Yes, I know."
Simon turned his body toward Maisie and reached for her hand.
"Talk to me about anything, Maisie. I want to know everything about you. Even if you've already told me in a letter. I want to hear your voice. Start anywhere, but not with the war. Tell me about London, Kent, about your father, your mother--and what about that funny little man Maurice Blanche? Tell me about it all, Maisie."
Maisie smiled, looked briefly across the table at Iris laughing with her head back.
"I'll tell you about my father. Francis. Known to just about everyone as Frankie. He has three loves in his life. My mother, who died when I was a child, me, and Persephone, his horse."
Maisie and Simon each unfolded tales of their lives that transported them from the memory of more recent experiences. Even after dinner had ended, the two walked close together along a cobblestone street that led to nowhere in particular and back again. For two days Simon and Maisie were almost exclusively with each other, apart only when Simon kissed her hand at the end of each day and watched as she climbed the stairs to the room she shared with Iris.
"Well, we're off tomorrow, Maisie. Back to the delightful Maison Tent."
"Have you enjoyed yourself, Iris?"
"Thank God for Chuck--that's what he calls himself--Hayden. Nice man, good company. We swapped sweetheart stories while you collected stars in your eyes."
"Iris, I'm sorry. I can't thank you enough."
"Oh, Maisie, don't get me wrong. It was a very nice time I had. Seriously, like I said, he was good company. Left his wife and young son behind to come over here with other American doctors and nurses. Misses his family something rotten. I told him all about my Sid. Blimey, I dunno if I would've come over here if I didn't have to."
"You didn't have to come here, Iris."
"I know. But there again I did, because it's my country that's here in this war. They're our boys and I'm a nurse. But they didn't; the Americans didn't have to come here. Though Charles seems to think it won't be long before they're in."
Iris began packing her small bag ready for the journey back to the casualty clearing station. "Made a nice job of the uniforms they did, here in the hotel laundry. And in double-quick time. Enjoy the clean dress, my girl;we'll be in mud up to our knees before long. And fighting off the lice again."
"Oh don't, Iris. . . ."
Simon accompanied Maisie and Iris to the station, and while Iris walked along to the platform for their train, Simon and Maisie stood together. Maisie shivered.
"I'll write as usual."
"That would be lovely, Simon. Gosh, it's cold."
Simon looked at her and without thinking put his arms around her.
"Please," Maisie protested weakly.
"Don't worry. No nasty sisters around to report you for dawdling with an unscrupulous RAMC captain."
Maisie laughed and shivered at the same time, moving her body closer to Simon. He held her to him and kissed her first on her forehead, then, as she looked up at him, Simon leaned down and kissed Maisie again on her cheek, then her lips.
"Simon, I--"
"Oh dear, will I get you into terrible trouble?"
She looked up at him, then around at the other travelers, none of whom seemed to notice the pair, and giggled nervously.
"Well, you might if someone sees us, Simon."
The guard signaled a loud whistle to alert passengers that the train would soon be leaving. Steam from the heavy engine was pushed up and out onto the platform. It was time for Simon and Maisie to part.
"Maisie. Look, I have a leave coming up again in a few months. Back to England. When's your leave? Perhaps it will be at the same time."
"I'll let you know, Simon. I'll let you know. I must run. I'll miss the train."
Simon held Maisie to him, and as the train signaled the "all aboard," she pulled herself away and ran along the platform. Iris was leaning out of the window of their carriage waving to her. She clambered aboard and sat down heavily on the seat just as the train began to move.
"I thought I'd be leaving without you, Dobbs."
"Not to worry, Iris. I'm here."
"Yes. You're here, Dobbsie. But I think you've left your heart behind with a certain young man."
Catching her breath as the train pulled out of the station, Maisie closed her eyes and thought of Simon. And as she saw his face in her mind's eye, the pressure returned to her chest. Rain slanted down across the windows as the fields of France seemed to rumble past with the movement of the train. Maisie looked out at this country she had willingly come to, so close to home, yet so far away from all that she loved. Almost. Simon was near.
CHAPTER TWENTY
On a cold, wintry morning in February 1917, with the sun barely visible through the morning fog, Maisie pulled the wool cape around her shoulders and walked back to the tent she shared with Iris. Burning a hole in her pocket were two letters. One was from Simon. The other contained her leave papers. Her fingers were crossed.
"So, did you get it?" asked Iris, as Maisie tore at the small buff-colored envelope.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute. Yes! Yes! Yes!"
Maisie jumped up and down. She was going on leave. Areal leave. Allowing two days for travel, she would have three days at home. Three days! One whole day more than her last leave, which was-- she couldn't even remember. She immediately opened Simon's letter, scanned the lines of fine, right-slanted handwriting and jumped up and down again.
"Yes, Yes! He's got it, he's got leave!"
And the dates, April 15 to 20, were almost the same as hers. They would have two days together. Two whole days.
Iris smiled and shook her head. Oh, how that girl had changed. Not in her work. No, the skill and compassion she brought to her work were as unquestionable as ever. But this joy, this excitement, was something new.