An Orphan’s War: One of the best historical fiction books you will read in 2018

‘It sounds wonderful,’ Maxine said, not having a clue. She’d never eaten duck before … and with orange … it didn’t sound that appetising. But she was thankful the problem had been taken out of her hands.

‘So now you can relax.’ Edwin Blake smiled at her. ‘The Ritz will do all the work. All you have to do is sit there and look beautiful.’

It was meant to be a compliment, she was sure, but her skin prickled. She wasn’t some empty-headed young girl, even though she’d pointed out she wasn’t on his level. She’d meant he held a high position in the hospital, not that he was her superior in every shape and form. Whatever had made her make such a comment?

‘Here’s to a normal civilised evening in the madness of this bloody war,’ Edwin said, raising his glass. ‘And I say “bloody” as that’s exactly what it is – in more ways than one.’

She raised her glass towards his and smiled. ‘I second that.’

The wine tasted good even though she wasn’t very used to it. She allowed the liquid to roll over her tongue, relishing such a delightful flavour of peach, as it slid luxuriously down her throat.

‘Do you read poetry?’

His sudden question made her start. ‘I did … at school.’

‘It’s good for the soul.’ Edwin’s eyes met hers. ‘Have you a favourite poet?’

‘N-no.’ Desperately she searched her mind for a familiar name. ‘Well, I did like Byron.’

‘Ah, Lord Byron.’ He kept his gaze on her. ‘He was a rum cove. I’m surprised he’s your favourite. Goes a bit close to the mark sometimes, in my opinion.’

‘I’m not sure what you mean?’ Oh, God, what had she started?

‘Very risqué. Not sure young ladies should be reading such stuff.’

‘I was far away from being a “young lady” at fifteen when I first read Byron,’ she said, her tone a little more clipped than she meant. ‘I don’t suppose I understood half of it, but I remember we used to giggle over some of the passages.’

He raised an eyebrow and she was thankful when the waiter brought their soup. It was time for her to change the subject, even if only to comment on the food.

‘It’s delicious,’ she said truthfully.

‘One wouldn’t expect it to be any different at the Ritz.’ He smiled, dipping his spoon in.

‘What made you come to St Thomas’?’ she asked him, feeling on more familiar ground.

‘It’s a good teaching hospital – or was, what’s left of it. That’s really my forte – teaching. But they’re talking of opening a place in Guildford – a medical school – so I’ll likely be transferred.’

She felt a tiny quiver of disappointment. ‘I imagine all the hospitals are finding it difficult. There’s—’

‘Let’s not talk about work,’ he cut in. ‘I want to get to know you, Maxine. And for heaven’s sake call me Edwin – when we’re off duty, of course.’

So he’s expecting to see me again.

‘Is there a young man in tow?’ Edwin broke into her thoughts.

‘I haven’t a boyfriend, if that’s what you mean,’ Maxine answered quickly, her face feeling warm all of a sudden.’

‘A pretty girl like you without a boyfriend?’

‘Not exactly. I was married.’

‘Was?’ His eyes widened.

‘He died,’ Maxine said quietly, putting down her soup spoon.

‘Oh, dear. I’m so sorry.’ Edwin seized her left hand before she could retrieve it. ‘I didn’t notice your wedding ring. Clumsy of me. How did it happen?’

‘He was one of the ones who had to stay behind at Dunkirk. A medic. They needed them to go off with those rescued, but they also needed medics to stay behind and look after the wounded. I understand he volunteered.’ She wasn’t prepared to go into any further details.

‘How old are you, Maxine?’

‘Twenty-one.’

‘Too young to be a widow.’ He gently squeezed her hand. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he repeated.

‘He wasn’t only my husband for a very short time but he was my best friend … from childhood. That’s what is so painful. I’ve lost my best friend.’ Her eyes filled with tears.

‘Then let me try to make it up to you,’ Edwin said.

‘No one can make up for anything like that,’ she said briskly, to hide the familiar ache in her heart.

‘I’ll damned well give it a good try.’

Maxine was keen to get off the subject and was grateful when the main course arrived. To her surprise she found the duck delicious. She also found she was beginning to enjoy Edwin’s conversation about the places he’d travelled to before the war, though she couldn’t add anything much except to nod and smile.

‘What other books have you read besides Out of Africa?’ he asked.

‘Rebecca.’ She thought a moment. ‘I like Agatha Christie.’ Her mind went blank and quickly she said, ‘What about you?’

‘Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, Evelyn Waugh – I’ve just finished A Handful of Dust – anything by Jean-Paul Sartre …’

He mentioned two or three more names but she’d never heard of any of them. She sipped her wine, hoping she looked interested, not knowing if she’d like the plays he now mentioned because she’d only heard of Noel Coward’s Private Lives. But Edwin was nice. Attentive. Polite. Absolutely charming. Altogether different from when she’d first come across him in the ward.

‘We must do this again … soon,’ he said as he helped her on with her jacket an hour and a half later. ‘I’m not going to keep you out late. None of us are getting a lot of sleep lately, and I need steady hands when I hold the knife.’ He grinned at her.

‘Put like that, I think you’re very wise.’ Maxine smiled back.

The taxi pulled up, as Edwin directed, in Royal Street, close to the hospital building. Edwin paid the fare and the cab disappeared into the dusk. He looked down at Maxine, a strange expression she couldn’t fathom on his face.

‘You’re very lovely,’ he said. ‘Would you allow me to kiss you?’

She didn’t know if she wanted him to or not. Before she could answer, he drew her into his arms and she felt his lips on hers. It buzzed through her mind how different he felt from Johnny, whose kisses were cheerful … friendly … Edwin’s was more like a lover’s kiss. For a few seconds she tried to wriggle free. It was too smothering. But then, against her will, she felt herself responding, felt her own lips start to kiss him back. How she’d missed this. But it was too dangerous. She didn’t want to like him in that way. Dazed, she pulled away.

‘I’ve had one of the best evenings in a long time,’ Edwin said.

‘Me, too,’ she whispered.

‘Then go, before you turn into a pumpkin.’