Before Celia knew what was happening, he had flung down his fork and was striding back the way he had come.
‘Well, he’s a johnny-come-lately and no mistake,’ Lizzie said, having heard his last words. ‘Calls us lovely girls one minute, and then runs out on us.’
Celia glared at her. ‘Sometimes, Lizzie, I don’t think you have the brains of a flea. If you can’t tell when a man’s suffering, then it’s no wonder you’ve never caught one.’
‘Well, pardon me for breathing, ma’am,’ she snapped, reminding Celia suddenly of her time in New Jersey when everyone was ma’am and sir, and people were full of an exaggerated politeness that was almost of another time. In that instant she felt a brief longing to be there again, away from it all, in the sweet-scented apple orchards belonging to the Stone household.
But as she heard the Cornish farmer’s angry shout to them to get on with their work and stop dawdling, she knew she couldn’t do that. Even if she tried, nothing would ever be the same again. You couldn’t ever retreat to a safer world. All anyone could do was to go on.
* * *
Outwardly, Ryan Pengelly looked like a robust little six-year-old with a healthy tan on his skin, thought Skye. It was only when he began to cough at night, and the wheezing could be heard through the bedroom walls, that it was evident that he wasn’t a well child.
Ethan and Karina were making a fair living on their Irish farm, but if Ryan was to have specialist treatment, it was clear they couldn’t afford it.
They hadn’t come to Cornwall looking for hand-outs, merely the expertise of the British doctors, and they were adamant on that point. But Nick and Skye had other ideas.
‘You’re our family, and our family deserves the best,’ Nick declared. ‘We’ll send him to a private clinic and see what they can do for him.’
‘You must believe that this is not why we came,’ Karina protested in her soft Irish voice, tears welling in her eyes at the gesture of kindness.
‘You came where you belong,’ Skye told her. ‘Where else should you be at a time of trouble but with people who love you? We all want to see Ryan able to run and play like other little boys. He’s of an age to play with Lily’s two now.’ She paused. ‘You’ll go to see them, of course?’
Karina flushed. ‘I doubt that Lily’s boys will want to bother with Ryan. They must be thirteen now, and won’t want to be seen hanging around with a small boy who can’t run about very much. Besides, I’m not sure that Lily will want to see me. I’ve been very tardy about keeping in touch.’
‘I’m sure Lily will be as pleased to see you as we are,’ Skye said firmly. ‘I’ll invite them over for Sunday tea. We might even get Celia to come. I know she’s glad to get away from the girls she works with whenever she can.’
Ethan laughed. ‘Having met them, I don’t blame her for that – and you won’t stop Skye getting the family together on the slightest excuse, Karina.’
‘It’s a family thing,’ Nick agreed, tongue in cheek. ‘A Tremayne thing, or whatever they call it.’
The teasing broke the tension that had surrounded them all like a cloud, and by the following Sunday the house was full of people again. Superficially, anyone could be forgiven for thinking they didn’t have a care in the world. Or that there was a war on at all.
Only someone with a crystal ball, who was able to look beneath the surface, would see that nearly every one of them felt a measure of anxiety and grief.
Betsy wouldn’t even come to New World, preferring to stay with ‘her boys’. Seb reckoned she was being extra diligent on their behalf as a kind of penance. She felt she mustn’t desert them just because her own boy was going through such torment.
‘It’s irrational, of course, but she has to work things through in her own way,’ he went on.
‘We all do,’ Celia said.
‘No news then?’ he asked without explanation.
‘How could there be?’ she said in a brittle voice.
He slung an easy arm around her shoulders, and she could still marvel that where there had once been so much anger and conflict between them, there was now the closest friendship.
‘I reckon you’ll just have to settle for marrying me then,’ he said casually.
‘And pigs might fly,’ she retorted, and then gave an unexpected giggle. ‘Did you ever know that we used to call you a prize pig, Seb? Mom and Lily did too. Isn’t that awful? But you really were the most insufferable child.’
Butch Butcher wandered near, thankful to hear laughter when most of the grown-ups seemed to be so miserable lately.
‘What’s an insuff – whatever you said, Celia?’
‘Something you’re not, kiddo,’ she said, putting her arm around him with rough affection and realising to her surprise that he was truly one of the family now. Just like an adopted brother, in fact, and she found herself hoping her parents would finally get around to taking him on permanently.
He wriggled free in embarrassment, his face as red as his hair, and went to find Lily’s boys. Celia turned to Seb.
‘I’m beginning to think I’m getting soft in my old age,’ she said. ‘Maybe I’ll turn into one of those ancient, toothless spinsters, mumbling into my cocoa every night about the good old days. What do you think?’
But she didn’t want an answer, because it suddenly sounded too frighteningly like the legions of elderly spinsters from the First World War. Those who had resolutely never married because their sweethearts had never come back from the Front, but who carried their images in their hearts for the rest of their lives.
‘Not you, sweetheart,’ Seb lazily. ‘You’ll have to marry me before then.’
‘Hey, you’re not serious, are you?’ she said in alarm. ‘Not you and me, Seb—’
‘Good God, no,’ he drawled. ‘Just giving you the option if all else fails, that’s all.’
* * *
Nick fixed an appointment for Ryan to see a top specialist in Bristol, who would then admit him to his private clinic for observation and treatment if the condition warranted it.
He also arranged for Ethan and Karina to stay at lodgings nearby, and insisted on having all the bills sent to him. He wouldn’t hear of anything different.
He and Skye accompanied the little family to Bristol and stayed for one night.
‘We want to visit some old friends,’ Nick told them by way of easing their consciences at all the expense. ‘My ex-partner and his wife have an antique shop in Bristol and it will be good to see them again.’
It would also be good to spend the night in the hotel where, long ago, he and Skye had journeyed to Bristol to inspect the retirement home where old Albert Tremayne was to spend the rest of his days. They had gone there as Albert’s married niece and lawyer, and come back as lovers.
‘Do you remember?’ Skye said softly, as they stood at the window of the hotel that night, gazing down at the silvery ribbon of water in the Avon Gorge far below Clifton Downs.
She felt Nick’s arms fold possessively around her, and she leaned back against him.
‘As if it was yesterday. I don’t know how we had kept apart for so long.’
‘I do,’ she said quietly. ‘It was because I was married to Philip, and we knew it was wrong to give in to our desire.’
‘But we made a vow not to repeat it as long as Philip lived, and we kept to it, so I don’t think God will punish us for that, darling.’
She twisted round in his arms. ‘And now I’m married to you and nothing that happens between us is wrong,’ she said, her heart beginning to beat faster at the look in his eyes.
It was a dark, passionate look that she knew meant only one thing, and she exalted again in the knowledge that he could still desire her so much and that their feelings for one another had never changed.
‘Then I think it’s time we confirmed those vows we made all those years ago,’ he said more urgently, in a way that thrilled her heart and told her the time for talking was over.
* * *
&
nbsp; They didn’t stay in Bristol for more than their one planned night. Next morning, the visit to Nick’s ex-partner was a brief but joyous one, full of nostalgic talk of the past and hopes for the future. The city and its docks had had its own horrendous taste of the Blitz and many parts were devastated, even razed to the ground, but the Bristolian spirit had been strong, and would survive, the way it always had.
Skye was filled with a strange kind of euphoria as they caught the train at Temple Meads station and headed home to Cornwall. It had been a journey on account of Ryan’s health, but for her, it had also been a renewal of vows, and a reminder that love never dies.
Somehow it had united the past with the present, and all the past impressions, of Bristol and of Cornwall, with her mother Primmy, and Primmy’s beloved brother Albert. All that love, through all the generations, seemed to fuse in her own mind into the certainty that Ryan would get well. That the specialist who was treating him would work miracles.
She said as much to Nick as the train rattled westwards, and he smiled at her indulgently.
‘Well, let’s hope so. Or do I hear Granny Morwen dictating positive thoughts in your head again?’
Her smile was triumphant. ‘Well, you said it, not me! So who’s using his Cornish intuition now, honey?’
Whatever it was, in two weeks’ time they heard that Ryan’s condition could be treated with a small operation, and that he would then undertake a long course of medication that in time, it was hoped, would completely cure him.
He would need to stay in the clinic for several weeks, and the specialist advised a further month in a specialised children’s clinic in the country, where the parents could stay with him before they went home to Ireland.
‘It will cost a fortune, Skye, and we’re going to take out a loan to pay for it,’ Ethan finished, at the end of a lengthy and exuberant telephone call.
‘You’ll do no such thing, Ethan! Nick and I won’t hear of it. No matter how much it costs, we shall ask Mr Warner to continue to send the bills to us, do you understand? We’ll be deeply upset if you refuse to let us do this.’
‘How can we refuse without seeming totally ungrateful?’ Ethan said huskily. ‘You’re the dearest people we know, and I’ll call you again when I’m not so damned emotional.’
Skye put down the phone. She had no idea how much an operation of this nature would cost, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was seeing that small boy well again.
She turned around to see Butch hovering behind her.
‘I’ve got some pocket money saved up, Mrs Pen,’ he said, hot with embarrassment. ‘If you want it, I’ll give it yer.’
‘Oh Butch, honey, that won’t be necessary, but you’re an angel to even think of it,’ she said, hugging him.
‘I thought all the fam’ly might be helping, see?’
At once, she knew what he was getting at. It was his way of being included as one of the family, and not just a ‘vaccy’, as Olly had once called them so scathingly, in what seemed like a lifetime ago. At that moment, Skye knew how important this was to him.
‘If we need to call on the family for help, I promise I’ll remember your offer, Butch,’ she said, and was rewarded by a beatific smile on his plain face.
* * *
World events overtook domestic ones with dramatic swiftness in early June, when the news broke that the Allies had liberated Rome. It began a wave of patriotic hysteria that at last, the Jerries were on the run.
On June sixth came the announcement from General Eisenhower’s HQ that the invasion of Europe had begun. Naval forces, supported by air forces, began landing huge numbers of Allied forces on the northern coasts of France. The actual landing place was not mentioned at first, and the solemn voice of wireless announcer John Snagge made it seem an almost modest achievement. The understated British, Skye thought, with wry and affectionate amusement.
And yet the invasion was so vast in its conception and operation, that it was only when the full facts emerged of the biggest land, sea and air operation of all time, that the plans began to seem so awesome.
Skye went at once to the newspaper offices in Truro, unable to sit at home or do anything else, and quite sure that David Kingsley would have the latest information coming through all day. The more his sources revealed, the more incredible it became that it could have been achieved without the enemy getting prior knowledge of exactly where and when it would all take place.
‘It must have been a terrifying sight, to see thousands of parachutes descending on French soil,’ Skye said. ‘And all those ships discharging the soldiers and tanks at the various landing points must have put the fear of the Almighty into the German troops waiting to repel them.’
‘Yes, but we shouldn’t underestimate them,’ David said. ‘They won’t have turned tail and retreated, Skye, and the casualty figures are going to be immense on both sides. It’s going to be nothing short of carnage.’
She looked at him sharply. ‘You don’t approve of this operation, do you, David?’
‘I don’t approve of men killing one another.’
‘Not even for the best of reasons, to make the world a safer place to live in?’
‘Didn’t they say that about the last one, and about every bloody war that’s ever been fought?’
‘My God, for a newspaperman, you sounded almost human at that moment,’ she said flippantly.
‘It’s not unheard of,’ he said, and at the frown on his good-looking face she realised they were practically at loggerheads over a cause.
But she also knew well enough that if a newspaperman revealed everything in print that he knew, the public would be shocked to the bone at the cruelty that existed in the world. Danger didn’t only exist these days in hand to hand fighting. Modern warfare had more sophisticated weapons of death and was fought on land, on sea and in the air.
‘I wonder if Olly was involved in it,’ she said.
Part of her hoped desperately that he was not, while the other part knew that he would have just as desperately wanted to be there, his aircraft zooming through the skies and bombing railways and power plants, or dropping parachutes with men and supplies to support the great and wonderful invasion that was to liberate France and the world…
Suddenly she felt as sick and dizzy as if she too was up there in skies that were darkened with man-made machines filled with death-delivering horror; that she was somehow unable to breathe in the cloying stench of smoke and burning oil in the claustrophobic confines of the aeroplane carrying her son to his destiny—
‘Put your head between your knees, Skye,’ she heard David order her as if from a long way away.
She obeyed without thinking, willing away the surge of bile that climbed upwards from her stomach and threatened to disgrace her.
‘Olly,’ she whimpered, without even knowing that she spoke his name.
‘What about Olly?’ David said, his head close to hers, his hand still pushing hers down to her knees.
But by now the vision had faded, if vision it actually was. Or had it all been no more than an illusion brought about by her natural fears for her son? She had no way of knowing, but right now the last thing she wanted to feel was that it was some kind of premonition. At that moment, she completely rejected any thought of second sight. She didn’t want it, and didn’t have it… wouldn’t have it…
‘Here, drink this,’ David went on, thrusting a glass of water into her hand. ‘Sorry it’s not brandy, but I can fetch you a drop of that if you feel the need.’
‘No thanks. Water’s fine,’ she muttered, not wanting her senses dimmed in any way. ‘I’m sorry, David. I get bad moments at times, worrying about Olly. But they say no news is good news, don’t they?’
Instead of reassuring her as she expected, his voice became more clipped. ‘And we both know that’s one of the most stupid clichés ever invented.’
‘What have you heard?’ she said at once.
He shrugged. ‘Nothing to alarm you. Only that the
air force is as much involved in this invasion as anything else. But anyone with any sense knew that it was going to be. This war is very much a battle of the air, darling, even more than the last one was. Anyway, have you heard from Olly lately?’ he added casually. Too casually.
She shook her head. ‘No. But that’s nothing new. He’s always too busy to write. For all his one-time longing to be a reporter, he has very poor corresponding skills when it comes to his own family.’
Illogically, she was angry with David for making her feel even more anxious than before. For bringing her foolish fears out into the open instead of keeping them buried deep in her heart, even from Nick.
But, providing she heard from Olly soon, she decided it would be her new talisman for bringing him safely through to the end of the war.
The thought made her equally angry with herself, for putting such faith in pagan values.
‘I think I need some fresh air, David,’ she said, her chest suddenly tight. ‘I’ll go and see Lily while I’m in town, and I’ll speak to you again soon.’
But Lily couldn’t help, and nor did Skye know what help she wanted or needed. She only knew that she was filled with an inner dread that all was not well, and that Olly was the pivot of that dread.
‘You need a tonic, darling,’ Lily advised her. ‘I must say I’m glad the Irish lot have got over their trouble and that Ryan’s convalescing now. It seemed to me that no sooner did half the evacuees leave New World than the others moved in, and you always did take other people’s troubles too much to heart, Skye. You should give more thought to yourself instead of other people.’
‘They used to say that about Granny Morwen too,’ Skye said, ‘but if that’s the way you’re born, there’s not much you can do about it. Anyway, most of our evacuees left a long time ago now. There’s only Butch, and I hope he’ll stay for good.’
‘You’re really fond of that little tyke, aren’t you?’
A Brighter Tomorrow Page 24
