Only Time Will Tell

'Hi, Kristin,' said a man's voice.

'Hello, Richard,' came back the nurse's reply. 'You're late,' she said, teasing, not angry.

'Sorry, honey. All the officers had to remain on the bridge until the search for survivors was finally abandoned.'

The door closed, and the light softened once more. Harry had no way of knowing how much time had passed before the door opened again - half an hour, an hour perhaps - and he heard their voices.

'Your tie's not straight,' said the nurse.

'That won't do,' the man replied. 'Someone might figure out what we've been up to.' She laughed as he began walking towards the door. Suddenly he stopped. 'Who are these two?'

'Mr A and Mr B. The only survivors from last night's rescue operation.'

I'm Mr C, Harry wanted to tell her as they walked towards his bed. Harry closed his eyes; he didn't want them to think he'd been listening to their conversation. She took his pulse.

'I think Mr B is getting stronger by the hour. You know, I can't bear the thought of not saving at least one of them.' She left Harry and walked over to the other bed.

Harry opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to see a tall young man in a smart white dress uniform with gold epaulettes. Without warning, Nurse Craven began to sob. The young man placed an arm gently around her shoulder and tried to comfort her. No, no, Harry wanted to shout, Captain Havens can't die. We're going back to England together.

'What's the procedure in these circumstances?' asked the young officer, sounding rather formal.

'I have to inform the captain immediately, and then wake Dr Wallace. Once all the papers have been signed and clearance has been authorized, the body will be taken down to the morgue and prepared for tomorrow's burial service.'

No, no, no, Harry shouted, but neither of them heard him.

'I pray to whatever God,' continued the nurse, 'that America doesn't become involved in this war.'

'That's never going to happen, honey,' said the young officer. 'Roosevelt's far too canny to get himself involved in another European war.'

'That's what the politicians said last time,' Kristin reminded him.

'Hey, what's brought this on?' He sounded concerned.

'Mr A was about the same age as you,' she said. 'Perhaps he also had a fiancee back home.'

Harry realized that it wasn't Captain Havens in the next bed, but Tom Bradshaw. That was when he made the decision.

When Harry woke again, he could hear voices coming from the next room. Moments later, Dr Wallace and Nurse Craven walked into the sick bay.

'It must have been heart-wrenching,' said the nurse.

'It wasn't at all pleasant,' admitted the doctor. 'Somehow it was made worse because they all went to their graves nameless, although I had to agree with the captain, that's the way a sailor would have wanted to be buried.'

'Any news from the other ship?' asked the nurse.

'Yes, they've done a little better than us. Eleven dead, but three survivors: a Chinaman and two Englishmen.'

Harry wondered if it was possible that one of the Englishmen might be Captain Havens.

The doctor bent down and unbuttoned Harry's pyjama top. He placed a cold stethoscope on several parts of his chest and listened carefully. Then the nurse placed a thermometer in Harry's mouth.

'His temperature is well down, doctor,' said the nurse after she had checked the vein of mercury.

'Excellent. You might try giving him some thin soup.'

'Yes, of course. Will you need my help with any of the passengers?'

'No, thank you, nurse, your most important job is to make sure this one survives. I'll see you in a couple of hours.'

Once the door had closed, the nurse returned to Harry's bedside. She sat down and smiled. 'Can you see me?' she asked. Harry nodded. 'Can you tell me your name?'

'Tom Bradshaw,' he replied.

55

'TOM,' SAID DR WALLACE once he'd completed his examination of Harry, 'I wonder if you can tell me the name of your fellow officer who died last night. I'd like to write to his mother, or his wife if he had one.'

'His name was Harry Clifton,' said Harry, his voice barely audible. 'He wasn't married, but I know his mother quite well. I'd planned to write to her myself.'

'That's good of you,' said Wallace, 'but I'd still like to send her a letter. Do you have her address?'

'Yes, I do,' said Harry. 'But it might be kinder if she heard from me first, and not from a complete stranger,' he suggested.

'If you think so,' said Wallace, not sounding at all sure.

'Yes, I do,' said Harry, a little more firmly this time. 'You can always post my letter when the Kansas Star returns to Bristol. That's assuming the captain is still planning to sail back to England, now we're at war with Germany.'

'We are not at war with Germany,' said Wallace.

'No, of course we're not,' said Harry, quickly correcting himself. 'And let's hope it never comes to that.'

'Agreed,' said Wallace, 'but that won't stop the Kansas Star making the return journey. There are still hundreds of Americans stranded in England, with no other way of getting home.'

'Isn't that a bit of a risk?' asked Harry. 'Especially considering what we've just been through.'

'No, I don't think so,' said Wallace. 'The last thing the Germans will want to do is sink an American passenger ship, which would be sure to drag us into the conflict. I suggest you get some sleep, Tom, because I'm hoping that tomorrow the nurse will be able to take you for a turn around the deck. Only one lap to begin with,' he emphasized.

Harry closed his eyes but made no attempt to sleep as he began to think about the decision he'd made, and how many lives it would affect. By taking Tom Bradshaw's identity, he had allowed himself a little breathing space to consider his future. Once they learnt that Harry Clifton had been killed at sea, Sir Walter and the rest of the Barrington family would be released from any obligations they might have felt bound by, and Emma would be free to begin a new life. A decision he felt Old Jack would have approved of, although the full implications hadn't yet sunk in.

However, the resurrection of Tom Bradshaw would undoubtedly create its own problems, and he would have to remain constantly on his guard. It didn't help that he knew almost nothing about Bradshaw, so that whenever Nurse Craven asked him about his past, he either had to make something up or change the subject.

Bradshaw had proved very adept at deflecting any questions he didn't wish to answer, and had clearly been a loner. He hadn't set foot in his own country for at least three years, possibly more, so his family would have no way of knowing of his imminent return. As soon as the Kansas Star arrived in New York, Harry planned to sail back to England on the first available ship.

His greatest dilemma was how to prevent his mother from being put through any unnecessary suffering by thinking she'd lost her only son. Dr Wallace had gone some way to solving that particular problem when he promised to post a letter to Maisie the moment he arrived back in England. But Harry still had to write that letter.

He had spent hours going over the text in his mind, so that by the time he'd recovered enough to commit his thoughts to paper, he almost knew the script by heart.