It was as if Bertenshaw had been casting a shadow over the gardens, because everything seemed better after that. The weather was warming and the garden filled with colour. Lady Hazelgrove told them that she had to keep Master Ted’s letters safe from Star or he’d take them to his bed. Then a telegram arrived.
It was such a bright day, too, to begin with. The daffodils were sunshine-yellow trumpets against the green, and the garden was filled with every colour of spring. Dad could walk without crutches, though he still needed a stick and walked badly, and Archie enjoyed the way the whole family worked together in the garden to keep things looking as they should. Jenn would come in from school, change her pinafore, and get straight down to the greenhouses. Even Flora waddled about carrying empty plant pots.
Lady Hazelgrove was in the garden talking to Dad. She wanted to plant more fruit trees in the walled garden where they could sprawl against the warm brick walls in summer. Archie was supposed to be learning about pruning. Instead he was putting back the bulbs Star had dug up, but he was just glad that Star was still alive to be a nuisance. Star was now tucked under Lady Hazelgrove’s arm so he couldn’t do any more damage. They were interrupted by Mr Grant coming into the garden with some sort of paper in his hand.
“Telegram, my lady,” he said, and Lady Hazelgrove handed Star to the person who was nearest, who was Archie.
Why did it suddenly feel as if a cloud had crossed the sun? Archie felt his father’s hand on his shoulder, gently drawing him back, as if they should leave space round Her Ladyship.
Archie folded his lips tightly. Not all telegrams were bad news. It might mean that Master Ted was coming home. It might mean… He saw that Her Ladyship’s hands were trembling.
“My lady?” said Grant. Archie held Star more tightly.
“My lady!” called Dad, as Lady Hazelgrove swayed and fell forward. Archie darted to help her, Dad hobbling behind him, and between them they caught her before she could land on the path. Dad was taking off his jacket and folding it to put under her head.
“Run to the Hall for help, Archie!” he ordered.
“Fetch Her Ladyship’s maid!” called Mr Grant, kneeling stiffly beside Lady Hazelgrove. Archie put down Star and ran, Star running beside him because he thought something exciting was happening, and all the time in Archie’s head was the picture of Lady Hazelgrove’s white face and the telegram that had fallen from her hand. He had only glimpsed it for seconds, but he knew what it said.
REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON CAPTAIN EDWARD CARR WAS KILLED IN ACTION ON 21 MARCH. HE WAS A FINE SOLDIER AND DIED NOBLY AND WITHOUT PAIN.
There was no Master Ted. There never would be again. It felt impossible, but it must be true.
March, just when the days were getting longer. March, with spring and summer coming and Master Ted would never see it. He’d never come home. He’d be buried, if he got a proper burial, in some muddy corner of France.
At Ashlings Hall it was as if everything in the world had turned to grey. Grey as lead. Grey as death. Only last summer Master Ted and Star had never been far away, two happy, confident characters enjoying the grounds of Ashlings together. The war had stolen one and left the other sad and puzzled. War was a bully.
Lord Hazelgrove came back on leave from his army camp looking suddenly old. At Gardener’s Cottage at nights Archie cried in the big lonely bed that he used to share with Will. There was no shame in crying for Master Ted. Everyone cried. At the Hall, Star still looked hopefully from the window.
So much for a useless little wooden sword. So much for Master Ted’s lucky charm. It hadn’t done him any good. As a gardener’s boy, Archie had learned to shoot the rabbits and crows that tried to eat the plants. He asked his dad if he could practise, and Dad set up tin cans for him to shoot at. Bang. I hate this war. Bang. Hate it. Bang. Day by day he got on with his work in the garden because he had to, but it was as if the sun would never come out again.
Every morning Archie woke up feeling that it couldn’t be true. Master Ted couldn’t die. He wasn’t like ordinary men, he had twice as much life as anyone else. He was a hero, he was theirs. He belonged to Ashlings, not to the army, not to a bit of French mud. It couldn’t be true. Somebody had made a mistake – but then a letter arrived from an officer. A shell had landed right on the trench where Master Ted and his men were based. Nobody survived. Frank Roger, the one all the girls fancied, had died with Master Ted.
“Please let him not be dead,” said Archie in his prayers every night, because it was the only thing he could do for Master Ted now. If there’d been a funeral he and Dad could have sent flowers from the garden, Ma would have arranged them and they would have filled the little church with flowers, but they couldn’t even do that for Master Ted, not even give him a funeral.
The day the bad news came for Lady Hazelgrove and Mrs Rogers, there were letters for the Ashlings estate, too. One was addressed to Mr and Mrs Sparrow at Gardener’s Cottage, but the boy who was doing the post while the usual postman was away being a soldier didn’t know his way around. Bertenshaw, sitting in the doorway of the cottage that he had to leave the next day, gruffly offered to help.
“Who’s that for?” he asked. “Gardener Sparrow? Give it here. I’ll give it him.”
When the boy had gone away, Bertenshaw turned and trudged back to the cottage. Sparrow had got him sacked. Why should he do him any favours? He wasn’t delivering letters to him.
He pushed the envelope into his pocket. It would get cool in the evening, and he had rubbish to burn. He’d have to light the stove.
Two weeks later was a sunny Sunday. Archie was thinking that it had no business to be so sunny when Master Ted was dead when Jenn came running in from Sunday school.
“Captain Bettany’s here!” she said. “I saw the car, I saw him going to the house!”
“Maybe it’s good news!” said Archie. “Maybe Master Ted’s not…” but he stopped when he saw the way Jenn looked at him.
“He didn’t look like good news,” she said. “He looked miserable. And it was awful, because Star was at the window and he must have seen a soldier in uniform because he came running out…”
“Oh, bless him!” said Ma.
“…then he jumped out at Captain Bettany, then he just sort of ran around him a bit and followed him into the house with his tail down.”
At least we can understand that Master Ted’s died, thought Archie. Poor Star. He’ll never understand it. He spent the rest of the day hanging round the front door of the Hall as much as he could and dodging out of the way if Mr Grant was about. Ma had cooked one of their chickens for lunch and Archie took a few scraps from the larder to feed to Star when nobody was looking. Star liked it, and went on licking Archie’s fingers after the chicken was finished. When Captain Bettany finally came out, looking tired and solemn, Archie ran to meet him.
“Sir?” he said. “Please, sir, you won’t rem—”
“Yes I do,” he said, and smiled, but his eyes remained sad. “You’re the garden lad, aren’t you?”
“Please,” began Archie again, and didn’t know how to go on.
Captain Bettany sat down on the doorstep. He patted the space beside him for Archie to sit down, too.
“I’ll tell you what I just told Lord and Lady Hazelgrove,” he said. “I was in the trench behind Ted’s, I saw the shell land. By the time I got there the field ambulance had taken everyone off. I found his cap and what was left of his papers.” He turned to look Archie in the eyes. “He was a good soldier. A good officer, his men would have done anything for him because he’d do anything for them.”
He patted Archie’s shoulder and went out to the car.
“Take care, sir!” said Archie and he realized how hard it must be for Captain Bettany to go back to those trenches, where the next shell might be for him. Gardeners don’t start wars. Neither did Master Ted, or Bettany, or Star for that m
atter, but they all got hurt. He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and turned for home, walking past the window where Star stood on a chair with his paws on the sill.
In the potting shed, Archie’s eyes blurred. He rubbed and rubbed at the chalk lines on the wall until there was nothing but a grey mist.
Star was so used to the chair in the window that he thought of it now as his own. It was the place where he waited for Ted. Every night when Ted didn’t come he went to guard his bedroom. His basket was still in there, with the door open, and he had furnished it from Master Ted’s things. He had stolen a pillow that smelt of Ted, and always took Ted’s towel and his boot to bed, too, and anything else he could find that was to do with his master. He loved that bed. It smelt right. And in the morning he would come back to his place at the window, so as not to miss Ted when he came home.
“It’s not right.” Dad was saying it as Archie went back into the house, grubby with chalk dust.
“What’s not right?” asked Archie.
“Never you mind,” snapped Ma. But the next morning, he found out.
Archie had never seen Star on a lead before. But in the morning, straightening up from digging, he saw Lady Hazelgrove walking through the rose garden to Gardener’s Cottage with Star walking on a lead, pulling away to sniff at the grass. Just Star, not Connel, and that was strange. Dad came to the door and took the lead and presently Lady Hazelgrove turned away and walked back to the Hall alone, drawing her black gloved hand across her eyes. Archie rammed his spade into the earth and ran to the cottage.
“Is Master Ted’s dog coming to live with us?” he asked hopefully when he got into the kitchen. Star, lying on the hearthrug, beat his tail on the ground, and Archie knelt down to smooth his fur.
“Hello, Star,” he said gently. “Have you come to see us?” Under his hands the dog felt thin.
“Don’t pet him, Archie,” said Ma, but she gave the dog a bit of biscuit. He licked it, but didn’t eat.
“Archie, sit down,” ordered Dad. He was sitting by the table with his bad leg stretched out in front of him. Archie sat down. At his feet, Star settled down with his head on his paws.
“As you’re here, you’ll have to be told,” said Dad. “It’s a hard thing for you to hear, but you’re a big lad now. The whole world’s in a right state, and there’s things you have to understand. All these months that dog’s been waiting for his master to come back, just as he did before Christmas. But this time Master Ted isn’t coming back and the dog doesn’t know that, he doesn’t understand. He’ll go on and on, sitting at that window all day, sleeping with Master Ted’s things at night, and it’s too hard on him. He’s already losing his spirit. Look at him, he doesn’t even eat as well as a dog should. The heart’s going out of him. Lady Hazelgrove can’t bear to watch him sitting at that window for one more day. She even said it would have been better if Bertenshaw’s poison had finished him off. She wants it to be over, so she brought him to me. Do you understand? It has to be over.”
Archie looked past his father. The gun lay propped against the door.
“No,” he said.
“It has to be done,” said Dad. “Mind, Jenn and Flora mustn’t know a word of this.”
Ma put a hand on Archie’s shoulder.
“I know it’s hard,” she said, “but it’s for the best. And it’s not up to us. Now that Master Ted’s gone he’s Her Ladyship’s dog, and she’s given her orders. It’s hard enough for them to handle their own mourning without the dog grieving for his master too.”
Dad got up stiffly, limped to the back door and opened it.
“Star, heel,” he commanded. The dog stood up and walked slowly, his ears and tail down.
“No!” Archie swooped down on Star, wrapping him in his arms and bending his head over the soft, curled coat. “Star, you stay with me! You can’t, Dad!”
Star looked up and from side to side. He tried to wriggle free, but Archie held on, hugging him firmly.
“Archie, let him go,” said Ma. “Don’t make this worse.”
“He won’t know a thing about it,” Dad told him. He picked up the gun. “One second he’s here, the next he’s dead. He won’t suffer. One shot to the head, and it’s all done with.”
“He’ll be off to heaven to find his master,” said Ma, but Archie pressed his cheek against Star’s warm head. Master Ted shouldn’t be in heaven, not yet. He should be playing cricket somewhere with Star running to field the ball.
“And what would Master Ted say?” he demanded. “What would he say, if he knew you’d killed his dog?”
“Archie, be a man,” said Ma.
Tearfully he turned to face her. He still held on to Star.
“I am being a man! I’m protecting Master Ted’s dog, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt him! I’m not letting go!”
“Now, Archie, this isn’t fair,” said Ma quietly. “This is hard enough for your dad already.” Dad waited at the back door with the gun in his hand.
“Dad doesn’t have to do it,” insisted Archie. “I know he’s missing his master, but Star’s a good dog, he’s a healthy dog. He just needs someone to be his friend, like Master Ted was. He needs time. Please? Can’t we keep him?”
“When Her Ladyship’s given orders to put him down?” said Ma. “If your dad doesn’t do it, she’ll only ask somebody else.”
“No!” cried Archie fiercely and curled himself round the dog. He reached into his pocket. There was an empty toffee bag in there, a bit sticky and fluffy, but it would still taste of toffee. He held it in front of Star, who licked it, and kept licking, then turned his tongue to Archie’s sticky fingers.
“Oh, our Archie!” said Ma in disgust, but Dad only watched.
“I said myself it wasn’t right to shoot him,” he said at last.
“Her Ladyship’s a sensible woman and she said it was cruel to let him live,” said Ma. “Poor little thing, expecting his master to come back. He’s a dog, he doesn’t understand.”
“Maybe,” admitted Dad. “But if he could get attached to Master Ted he could maybe get attached to our Archie, given a chance.”
“He’s already attached to me,” said Archie. “I’ve given him bits of food. I’ve thrown things for him to fetch and everything.”
“Her Ladyship…” began Ma.
“Her Ladyship doesn’t need to know,” said Dad firmly. He took a step towards Archie, who hugged the dog more closely. “Now, son, listen to me. I’m going to lock this gun away in the cupboard. When I get back, I don’t want to know where that dog is. Nobody’s to know about him. If any of the staff see him, we’re in trouble.”
“An invisible dog,” said Ma with a sigh, when Dad had gone. “That’s what he’ll have to be. Your invisible dog.” She shook her head. “Ridiculous. I daresay most of the ground staff would pretend they hadn’t seen him, but you can’t take chances. Your father reckons a dog’s more trouble than it’s worth in a garden, digging things up and doing its business where it shouldn’t. I don’t see how you’re going to exercise it without folks knowing. What will you do if it barks?” But then she almost smiled. “I like a dog about the place but they’re supposed to live outside in a kennel, and that thing’s used to being in a house. You’ll have your hands full with it. I’ve never even seen it walk to heel for more than two seconds, it might be unteachable by now. Heaven help it, it’s as daft as a brush.”
Archie had never trained a dog by himself, but years before he had watched Lord Hazelgrove working with Brier and Sherlock. He’d manage somehow. Dad had said he didn’t want to know where Star was, so Archie was about to carry the dog up to his room. Then he thought again, stood up, and patted his leg.
“Come on, Star,” he said. “Heel!”
Star sat still.
“Walk away from him, Archie,” said Ma.
Archie left the room. Nothing happened. He
walked back in to see Star sitting with his head on one side as if puzzled. He wouldn’t whistle, not after what had happened last time.
“Star!” he called brightly. “Heel! Come on!”
Star still sat. He knew exactly what he was being asked to do. He just couldn’t understand why. This wasn’t his house, or his boy.
“Look at it,” said Ma. “It must have been dropped on its head when it were a pup. Take a bit of stick from the firewood, Archie, see if he wants to play with it.”
Archie took a chunky piece of wood and waved it. This time Star lolloped upstairs after him and lay on the bedroom floor, chewing the wood.
“I’ll have to find you somewhere to sleep,” said Archie. “You’ll need a bed up here where nobody can see it.” He sat on his bed and watched Star gnawing contentedly at the lump of wood, holding it still with one paw.
“I’ve got a dog,” Archie said. For the first time since the telegram he felt a warm smile begin inside him and spread to his face. “I’ve got a dog. And it’s you, you daft article. But you’re Master Ted’s daft article.” And he made a promise, raising his head and his voice. “Wherever you are, Master Ted, don’t you worry about your dog. I’ll look after him.”
Master Ted? Star left his new toy and trotted to the window, and put his paws on the sill so that Archie felt painfully sorry for him. He’d have to look out for that – take care how he mentioned Master Ted’s name in front of Star.
“I miss him too,” he said. “We’ll look after each other. You’re a good dog.”
He made Star a bed with a bit of old blanket in a corner of the bedroom floor, but Star didn’t seem to know what it was for. He was more interested in Archie. Without Ted or Her Ladyship, Archie seemed to be the person to stay close to. But Dad had said that he didn’t want to see Star when he came back, so the dog would have to stay upstairs while Archie went back to work. He sat Star firmly on the blanket.
“Star, stay!” he commanded, holding out his hand, palm forwards. He walked away.
Archie's War Page 5
