“Thank goodness,” said Kate, with feeling.
“Don’t break out the fatted calf yet,” said Julia. “There’s still time. We’ll know in about two weeks if Gwen spread it to anyone. Fortunately, there was a brutal epidemic last spring—anyone who was going to get it got it. It’s only the children under the age of one we have to worry about. And the troops, but they have their own doctors. They’re not our concern.”
“Speaking of the troops . . .” Alice poked at her stew, trying to sound casual and failing utterly. “The Esmery-Hallon boys couldn’t join us tonight—we got word they’d received marching orders.”
The room suddenly seemed a little darker, the shadows cast by the lamps more ominous. The tension in the room was palpable, like the heavy air before an electric storm.
Defiantly, Nell shoveled more stew onto her plate, as though to show she wasn’t the least bit concerned. “Colonel Hayes came over midway through the movie and told us that the big drive is starting tonight. It didn’t stop him watching the rest of the film, so I can’t imagine there’s anything much to worry about.”
“Well, if he has time to go to the pictures . . .” began Kate, but the rest of her words were lost as an enormous blast shook the walls of the new house. Nell dropped the serving spoon, splattering stew across the tablecloth.
Anne stared wildly around the room. “What was that?”
“It didn’t—it didn’t sound like a bomb,” said Emmie, wide-eyed.
“Whatever it was, it’s ruined Mrs. Barrett’s linen tablecloth.” Nell scrubbed awkwardly at the tablecloth with her napkin. “Oh, bother. Does anyone have some salt before it stains?”
“Try some water first,” suggested Florence.
Alice had gone an unfortunate greenish color. “My m-mother swears by a mix of b-baking powder, talcum, and cornstarch.”
Kate looked down from the head of the table at the other six remaining members of the Unit. Nell was scrubbing maniacally at the tablecloth. Emmie was clinging to her water goblet for dear life. Even Florence, imperturbable Florence, had cocked her head, listening, and her usually placid face had a strained look about it. They were all scared out of their wits, but determined to pretend, to their last breath, that they were quite all right and it was just a bit of bother, with nothing more to worry about than a stained tablecloth. And Kate was just as bad as the rest of them.
What’s wrong with us? Kate wondered. Maybe, she thought madly, it would be easier if they just admitted they were all scared out of their wits, instead of all desperately pretending to be fascinated by the best method for getting grease out of linen.
Another boom, as loud as the last, made them all dive for the ground.
“At least it’s not bombs,” said Anne when the vibrations subsided. Her teeth were chattering nearly as loudly as the plates on the table. “I do hate when they try to drop bombs on us.”
“That sounds like an English gun,” said Julia, picking herself deliberately up off the floor.
“It’s most likely a trench raid,” offered Emmie. “Don’t you think?”
“Goodness, listen to us,” said Alice with a high-pitched laugh. “We’ve become such military experts.”
“We could teach a class at Smith,” said Kate, her own voice as unnatural as the rest. “English and German gun noises, the differentiation thereof.”
They all sat still, listening. Kate could feel her nails cutting into her palms. But the guns, German and English, had gone silent.
“You see? It was a raid and they’re done,” Emmie said quickly, but Kate noticed she was shredding the edge of her napkin.
Florence dropped her own napkin next to her plate. “I’m going to go see to the cows. It’s another full day tomorrow.”
“Bed for me too.” Nell smothered a yawn, and stood, stretching her back. “If that was the big drive, it wasn’t much of one.”
“Don’t tempt them,” said Kate, doing her best to keep up the casual tone. “Shall we take bets on when the next big drive will be? My money’s on a week from Tuesday.”
But it wasn’t nearly that long. Kate had barely fallen into an exhausted sleep when she woke to a tremendous pounding, the walls of the barrack shivering around her.
“What time is it?” Kate asked hoarsely.
Emmie was sitting up in the next bed, her knees pressed to her chest. “It’s just past four.”