“Fisher doesn’t approve,” said my father. “And you know he is in charge.”

“That’s bad,” said Uncle Gerald. “The First Sea Lord creating the wrong impression.”

“Churchill’s opinion is that a combined military and naval operation could knock Turkey out of the war.”

“That’s what we’re aiming to do.”

“This will be a little different from France,” said Marcus. “We’re getting tired of trench warfare.”

“An awful way to go to war,” agreed Uncle Gerald. “Living like troglodytes almost. Dodging the enemy instead of going out to fight him.”

Afterward I had a few words with Marcus in the drawing room.

“When are you leaving?” I asked.

“Any moment. When the call comes. One is never absolutely sure.”

“How uncertain everything is in wartime!”

“I believe, dear Lucinda, that it can even be so in peacetime.”

“Do you think it will soon be over?”

“One becomes a little wary of prophecy. Only one thing is certain. We are all growing older every day.”

“You speak as though that is something to be pleased about. Lots of people hate getting old.”

“That depends where you stand in life. Perverse, is it not? Some would do anything to hold back the years; others would like to advance them.”

“Into which category do you fall?”

“I should like you to rush on a few years while I stayed where I am.”

It was the second time the question of my youth had arisen—first with Robert, now with Marcus. It must be significant.

I could not resist saying, “Whatever for?”

“Because there are things I should like to say to you and I cannot say them now.”

“I might like to hear them.”

“Don’t tempt me, dear little Lucinda. Just grow up, please. You are sixteen years old, or you will be this year.”

“Not until September.”

“I shall remember that. This time next year you will be all but seventeen, and being a very clever young lady, I am sure you will have the wisdom of a seventeen-year-old before you reach that age.”

“You seem to think seventeen is a significant age.”

“Oh, yes, it is. It is when a maiden is on the brink of womanhood.”

“It sounds very poetic.”

“You bring out the poet in me. In fact, such is your influence that you bring out the good in me. So we must see each other as often as possible, so that good may prevail.”

“How? When you will be away?”

“We will think about each other every day. And at the first opportunity I will come to see whether you have kept your promise to grow up quickly.”

“Did I make such a promise? And in any case I cannot do so if you persist in treating me like a child.”

He looked at me intently and said, “Forgive me. If we were anywhere else but in your parents’ drawing room, I should be tempted to forget your age.”

There was no mistaking his meaning. I thought of Annabelinda. This was what she feared. The thought excited me.

Two days later he left for Gallipoli.

I thought about him a great deal. Was he really telling me he cared for me? Or was that lighthearted caressing manner the one he bestowed on all females? I was a little bemused, but I had to confess that I was attracted by him. Annabelinda had shown a certain perception. I wondered what she would say if she had heard our conversation.

I followed the campaign in Gallipoli. It seemed very far away and particularly dangerous. If only it could all be over! What would happen then?

We should soon be leaving for Marchlands. The hospital was almost ready. Miss Carruthers was very enthusiastic about it. There would be no curtailment of lessons, she said, but it would be illuminating for us to learn something of the procedure in hospitals and at the same time gratifying to contribute to the war effort. Andrée agreed with her and hoped that Edward would spare her for the occasional hour.

I was thinking a great deal about Marcus, wondering when I should see him again and whether he would continue in the same strain of flirtatious innuendo. I had to admit I found it all exciting. He was a most attractive man—in fact, the most attractive I had ever met. And that was not just in my eyes; most people would agree with me. That he had noticed me was very gratifying.

I tried to get all the information I could about the campaign in the Dardanelles, and I was very anxious when I heard that all was not going well.

But what did go well in this war? There was bad news from across the Channel. It seemed as though the end was by no means in sight.

I tried to catch some of my mother’s enthusiasm for the hospital project and to stop my thoughts from continually straying to Marcus.

One night, when there was a full moon, I suddenly awoke. It may have been the brightness of that moon shining on me that aroused me. Something had, and I was not sure whether I had been dreaming.

Everything seemed so still outside. Ever since the first Zeppelin had been sighted crossing the coast in early December of the previous year, people had looked up anxiously at the full moon. What was so delightful in peacetime could be a hazard in war. When the enemy came in their airships, they would choose a moonlit night. They would attempt to devastate our houses as they had that of Jacques and Marguerite.

I was wide awake suddenly. Yes, something had awakened me. I listened. A light footfall; the creak of a floorboard. Someone was walking about the house.

I glanced at the clock by my bed. It was nearly two o’clock. I got out of bed, felt for my slippers, caught up my dressing gown and opened the door.

I looked out. There was no one in the corridor. Then I heard it again. Someone was on the stairs.

I hurried to the landing, and as I looked down, I saw a figure descending cautiously.

To my amazement it was Andrée.

“Andrée,” I whispered. “Andrée, what’s wrong?”

She turned and for a second I saw a look of fear on her face. Then she said, “Oh…it’s you. For a moment I thought…I’ve awakened you. I’m so sorry, Lucinda.”

“Is something wrong?”

“No. I don’t think so. You know how anxious I get about Edward.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing much.” She had come up the stairs and stood beside me.

“What were you doing?” I asked.

“I was just going down to the kitchen to get some honey.”

“Honey! At this time of night? It’s nearly two.”

“Well, he has a little cough, you see. It kept him awake for a bit. He’s sleeping now, so I thought I’d slip down and get the honey, which does soothe him. Don’t worry. It’s just a slight chill. He’s been a little poorly the last day, I thought. And the cough was threatening to keep him awake.”

“I’ll get the doctor in the morning.”

“That may not be necessary. It’s just that this cough kept him awake for a while, and then when he did doze off…I slipped down to get the honey.”

“It’s a good idea. I’ll come with you.”

“Do you know where they keep the honey?”

“No, but we’ll find it. They must have some. It would be with the preserves…jams and things. You really don’t think it’s anything serious, do you?”

“Mon Dieu, no. I just fuss over him, I’m afraid. But you understand that. You are as bad as I am. I do know that children get these little ailments and are over them in no time. He’ll probably be all right in the morning.”

We reached the kitchen and, after a little exploring, found the honey.

“It’s wonderful the way you look after him,” I said.

“He’s such a darling.”

“I think so, too. But you are so good with him.”

“What I have done suits me, so please, you mustn’t make a heroine of me. I enjoy looking after Edward. I wanted somewhere to come. You and your family have done…everything for me. If I could repay you even a little, I should be overjoyed….But what I do is nothing…nothing compared with what you have done for me. To be here…to have escaped…”