(eng) Mary Robinette Kowal by Ghost Talkers (retail)

Author:Ghost Talkers (retail) [Talkers, Ghost]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

24 JULY 1916

Merrow managed to find nurses’ uniforms for Ginger and Mrs. Richardson. When she’d asked where, he gave a shy grin and ducked his head. “I have a—a friend.”

Mrs. Richardson had given a delighted chuckle at that, and nudged the young man with a wink. “Say no more.”

The red cross on their arms gave them freer movement into the trenches than their blue Spirit Corps uniforms would have, and the wimple of a nurse covered Ginger’s distinctive red hair. It could not mask her flinches at the constant sound of the guns.

Or the ghosts. She had not thought about the effect of going among so many old ghosts. The British troops had been conditioned to report in and then go to their rest. But these trenches had been held by the Germans, then the French, and then the Germans—trading back and forth with the price of soldiers’ lives. Thousands of memories crowded in with every thundering concussion, each one saying that this was the last sound he had heard before dying. Ginger’s chest was tight, and she could take only the shallowest breaths. The brimstone-scented air burned with reminders of death.

She was not dead. These were not her memories. She kept her gaze fixed on Merrow’s stooped shoulders as they walked down the narrow earthen trenches. Mrs. Richardson followed behind her, from time to time patting her on the back.

Ben stayed at her side, slipping through the ghosts as if this had always been his natural environment. “It is all right, darling. These are deep trenches. You aren’t going over the top. It’s all right.”

With her head down, she doubted any of the soldiers they passed could see her lips. Certainly they could not hear her over the din. “I am fine.”

“Your aura—”

“Damn my aura.” Ginger knotted her hands into fists to stop their trembling. “I cannot help my feelings, but I can bloody well control the way I act about them.”

Ben pulled back a little. “I am so sorry I brought you here.”

“It was my choice.”

Merrow had stopped and was speaking with a lieutenant who seemed too bookish to be in a war. Merrow showed him one of the documents from Ben’s drawer and gestured back to Ginger and Mrs. Richardson. The lieutenant stroked his mustache and then beckoned them forward.

“Lt. Tolkien’ll get us set up.”

The lieutenant touched his helmet and nodded to Ginger. “Thank you so much for visiting us, sisters. We’ve a couple of chaps as could use looking after. I told Private Merrow to put you in the dugout and I’ll send them round to see you once you’re settled.”

“Thank you.” Ginger smiled demurely. “We must all do our part.”

Mrs. Richardson patted her bag. “And we have good clean socks too, which should help with trench foot.”

It was uncharitable, but Ginger rather hoped they would be gone before then. She had trained as a nurse in the early days of the war, before they put the Spirit Corps together, and knew how to treat various ailments of the feet.

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