October ran out of days and became November. Ella and I still worked all the hours we could, dividing out time between the farm and Serenity House. One day, as I walked across the ballroom floor, Warrens?head swung in my direction and then he crooked a discreet finger to summon me closer. The reserved butler never raised his voice. Wouldn't do to yell.
"A question for you, Evans," he said in his refined and clipped voice.
I placed the armload of clean linen on the tea trolley, now repurposed to carry medical supplies and blankets, and approached.
"Tell me, lad, can you drive a truck?"
I nodded. Once I proved a failure as a soldier, I trained as an orderly and at times drove the ambulance, ferrying wounded soldiers from the battlefield to the makeshift hospital.