The Cobweb Cage

by Marina Oliver

  'This is incredible! If I hadn't seen you do it, I wouldn't have believed it possible. How old are you?'

  'Nearly ten. But I've always been able to draw.'

  'You really should have special lessons. You're so talented. Do you like drawing people best, or do you do other things?'

  'I do anything,' Ivy told her. 'I think I like doing small things best, plants and flowers. If you look really closely they're so different, all of them. If we could afford some paints I'd like to learn to do watercolours too.'

  'I'll make it possible, somehow,' Marigold promised, and smiled at Lexie over Ivy's shoulder as the child embraced her warmly.

  After they'd eaten, and Ivy had exclaimed in wonder at the snowy tablecloth and napkins, the silver and the delicate flower-decorated china, she settled down in front of a mirror Lexie arranged for her and drew a picture of herself.

  'This isn't right,' she said after several efforts. 'It doesn't seem to come out the same.'

  'Let me see.' Lexie picked up the paper, considered the drawing, and then looked at Ivy. 'Oh, it's because you're looking in the mirror, and your hair really goes the other way,' she said after a moment. 'See, if I push your hair over this way instead it looks the same.'

  'No! Don't touch me! Leave my hair alone!' Ivy almost screamed, and then collapsed into floods of tears and threw herself into Marigold's arms.

  Lexie had seen the still livid scar on Ivy's temple, and the one on her neck. She bit her lip, looking at Marigold.

  'I'm sorry,' she breathed. 'I didn't know. How on earth? What happened?'

  'I'll explain later. She hates people to see them. Ivy, darling, hush. Don't cry. Lexie didn't hurt you. Say you're sorry for making such a fuss. Come, Ivy, you're behaving badly and Mrs Cranworth won't ask you here again.'

  Ivy sniffed, but fought to control her tears.

  'I'm sorry,' she muttered, 'I'm sorry, Mrs Cranworth. I forgot you didn't know.'

  'I'm sorry, too, Ivy, I wouldn't have upset you deliberately.'

  Soon afterwards Ivy had to go. Marigold took her in a cab to New Street Station, and promised she would try and visit them in Hednesford after Christmas.

  'You won't tell them I came, will you?'

  'No, it shall be our secret. But I'm so glad you did, Ivy. And thank you for the lovely drawings. Look, I can't send them any presents, or they'll know you were here, but take this sovereign, and buy yourself some sweets occasionally. Not too many, or they'll be suspicious. Give Poppy some too. Give Mom a special kiss for me, will you?'

  Ivy promised, and Marigold stood waving to her as the train pulled out of the station. Then she walked home to recount to Lexie the story of that horrific day when Ivy had been burnt.

  *

  'My darling Lucy,

  'Thank you for your last letter and the muffler you sent me, also the food. It made Christmas away from you better when I knew you'd touched the wool which is now round my neck. Very cosy, too. And do we need it! I've never known cold which is quite as awful as in Flanders!

  'Both armies have got stuck in. And I mean stuck, in trenches full of mud. How the poor devils manage to keep cheerful is beyond me, I doubt if I could. In some places the trenches are only fifty or sixty yards apart, Germans facing us and sending over shells all the time, to which of course we reply with our own.

  'As there's almost no movement on the front, I've had little driving to do, so I spent a few weeks riding about on motor cycles, taking despaches to the various commanders. This was quite exciting as well as dirty, but it isn't really dangerous, so you are not to worry your pretty little head about me.

  'Usually I get covered in mud because the roads, or tracks, rather, there are very few proper roads, are so muddy it sprays up all over me. Last week I got plastered with mud when a German shell landed in a pond right next to me. Luckily for me it didn't go off. It's the nearest I've been to any real action, though you can hear the guns all the time, and occasionally bullets fly past if I'm near the lines.

  'Do you remember Reg Browning? He used to work with me, and he joined up at the same time. It's very sad, but two days ago he caught it. He was just going into a trench to take over from the chaps there, when a shell burst and buried everyone in the mud as the walls of the trench collapsed.

  'They said when they pulled him out there wasn't a mark on him. He wasn't killed by a bullet, just by drowning in the mud. What a dreadful way to go. Better than being maimed, though. Some of the men have lost one or even both legs. One I heard of had both legs shot off, and he pulled himself a hundred yards before they got to him. I hope he survives. Though what sort of life he'll have, even with artificial legs, I don't know. Would it be better to go quickly than to face that sort of life afterwards?

  'Several times I've stopped when there's been time and helped dig graves. There are so many to bury, some of them younger than me. But they have to be buried before the bodies putrefy, poor souls. I'm just thankful it's not hot weather. I can imagine the flies and the stench there'd be then. It's horrible enough, and I keep thinking of their loved ones, perhaps thinking they're still alive. And it's so difficult to keep track. Often we don't know who they are, so we can't tell their families. And I heard of one lot digging graves who dug up some bodies which had been buried just a week or so earlier. How horrible for them.

  'But I'm being morbid. It's missing you so much, my darling wife. Wife! It seems so long ago since I held you in my arms in Blackpool. Sometimes I think it was a dream.

  'On Christmas Day it was all rather strange. It was so quiet! It was misty first thing, and none of the guns were firing. Lots of the fellows had put little Christmas trees above the trenches, and suddenly, at several places nearby, they began calling across to Fritz. Or he started it, I don't know the truth of it.

  'I saw it myself, or I wouldn't have believed it. The men began to walk over the area in between the two lines of trenches, swapping cigarettes and beer, and chocolate. Then some mad Scots got up a game of football, and though the ground was frozen hard they played against the Germans for an hour or so. There wasn't a referee, but they all played honestly, and the cheering from both sides was tremendous.

  'Then on Boxing Day, when it was snowing but still oddly quiet, I managed to have a hot bath! Imagine that. It seems weeks since I was warm, and clean, and both at the same time. The last few baths I've had I had to get in after several other fellows. This time I was the first, and they had to drag me out, it was so comfortable.

  'Well, Lucy darling, it's now 1915. I wonder if we shall be together next Christmas Day? Surely this horror can't go on for much longer? Take great care of yourself, give my love to your Mom, and when you go to Hednesford again tell them all I love them. I will answer Mom's letter soon, but today I wanted to write a really long one to you. I have to be cheerful when I write to Mom, or she worries, and it's such a relief to put down some of my real feelings to you, for I know you understand.

  'God Bless,

  'from your ever loving husband,

  'Johnny.'

  *

  Marigold stepped off the train and looked about her. It was unusually busy for a Sunday afternoon.

  She walked slowly along Market Street. Having been away from Hednesford for four months she saw it with new eyes. How shabby and dirty it all was, she realised. Not like the huge, newly rebuilt city she now knew so well, with its bustling market, proud buildings, grand houses and wealthy people.

  She hadn't written again after seeing Ivy. If Pa burned her letters there didn't seem much point, so she hadn't told them she meant to visit them.

  She carried two large parcels. She'd pondered on what to bring, discarding the idea of money for she was afraid her father might refuse to take it. But it was almost Poppy's birthday. Surely he'd allow her to have a present?

  Lexie had suggested food, some good beef and some dried fruits. She'd added tobacco for Pa, and lengths of dress material in soft, warm wool for Mom and the girls.

  As Marigold drew nearer h
ome her steps slowed. Then she heard footsteps behind her and glanced round.

  'Cor, look at 'er! What's a toff like 'er doin' in ower street?'

  Marigold's smile froze on her face. They were girls from Ivy's class at school. She'd known them since they were born, and they didn't know her!

  She quickened her pace. Was she so different? Yes, her clothes were good, fashionable even, for Lexie insisted she had to dress well to be a credit to Richard. She was wearing a tweed skirt and jacket, trimmed with musquash, and a high fur toque. She had suede shoes with gloves and handbag to match. Gloves and handbags were unknown luxuries before she married Richard. Did new clothes make her unrecognisable though?

  She reached the entry between the houses and started along it. She had almost reached the end when someone turned into it. There wasn't room to pass. The other woman, vast and ponderous, stepped back.

  'After you, Miss. Were yer lookin' fer someone?'

  'Mrs Tasker! Don't you know me?'

  'Why, it's Marigold Smith! Oh, lass, it's good ter see yer! Yer Mom'll be that chuffed. 'Er's fretted not 'earin' from yer. Yer's come up in the world, now, though, ain't yer? Got a real nob to marry yer! I allus knew yer was a smart lass.'

  'I did write,' Marigold defended herself. 'It's lovely to see you. How is everyone?'

  They chatted about her family and the other neighbours, then Mrs Tasker shooed her away.

  'Go an' see yer Mom, I mustn't keep yer 'ere. Don't suppose yer've got much time ter spare, wi' yer fine 'usband ter look after now. No doubt 'e keeps yer busy!'

  With a deep laugh she winked at Marigold, and stomped off down the ginnel.

  So the neighbours didn't know Richard was in the army. She shrugged. Why should she care? Why should she be hurt if Mom never told anyone about hearing from her?

  She went slowly through the yard, turned up beside the scullery, and raised her hand to knock on the back door.

  Then she paused. It was her home. Why should she knock as if she was a stranger? Even neighbours often walked in without knocking.

  'Mom? Hello, it's me,' she called as she went in, and Mary appeared swiftly from the kitchen, to cry out in joy and sweep Marigold, parcels and all, into a warm embrace.

  *

  'My sweet love,

  'I think of you constantly, especially as your time gets near. I was so glad to hear your parents seem to have become reconciled. I knew they would in time, they are good, generous people. But it is odd they haven't received the letters you sent, and did not even appear to recall the one Ivy saw. I wonder how she saw it and knew where to find you? By the way, do send whatever money you wish to help them.

  'The stalemate here continues. Near the front it is desolate, and I can see it is similar on the German side when I make my sorties. But there are more reserves coming now, and things will soon improve, no doubt.

  'We had Easter services yesterday in a field, a very strange but oddly uplifting experience. To hear several hundred men roaring out the hymns, when usually many of them are very reluctant attenders at Church Parade, was heartening. The Bishop spoke very movingly, remembering those who have been killed, and using the occasion, naturally, to speak of life after death.

  'I am making my flights further across the lines now. Life seems to be going on more or less as usual further away, especially as the fighting is all in one place. Some people who fled have apparently returned to their homes, especially farmers who must be worried about the crops.

  'When I am home, after this horrible war, I must take you up in an aeroplane. It's fantastic to see such a wide panorama below, people moving about like tiny dolls amongst doll's houses. I feel like Gulliver must have done when he came to Lilliput. I am glad you enjoyed the book, it was always one of my favourites.

  'If this stalemate continues there is a possibility of leave. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could be at home for the birth of our son? I am convinced it will be a boy, but you know I would be equally pleased to have a replica of my adored Marigold.

  'I am sure Lexie is looking after you and making all the necessary arrangements. If your mother wished to come and stay with you in Birmingham, Lexie would be delighted. Ask for anything you wish, my dearest. Your comfort and happiness are my chief consideration. But how I long to hold you in my arms again. It's been the happiest time of my life since you married me. I cannot imagine ever being as happy again as when we were together, and yet when I come back, and we have our own home, and perhaps other children, life will be even more wonderful. I do not know how, just that it will be so. To have you ordering my house for me, sitting at my table, cherishing our children, but most of all lying in my arms, is all I desire.

  'Farewell, beloved. I will write again in a few days.

  'Your devoted,

  'Richard.'

  *

  'May the third, 1915.

  'To Mrs Richard Endersby.

  'Dear Madam,

  'It is with great regret that I have to inform you that Lieutenant Richard Endersby's aeroplane was shot down yesterday morning while he was on a reconnaissance mission over enemy-occupied territory. No other aeroplane was near enough at the time to see exactly what happened, but the plane landed amongst some trees and was set alight. In such circumstances it is unfortunately unlikely that he or his observer could have escaped alive.

  'He has been reported officially missing, presumed dead. If we receive any further information you will, of course, be told at once.

  'He was a fine officer and a skilled pilot, much liked by all the men. He served his country well and we can all be proud of the example he set.

  'With my deepest sympathy,

  'I remain,

  'Yours sincerely,

  'Colonel Somers.'

  ***

  Chapter 10

  'Can you see anything?'

  Richard had to shout over the noise of the engine, and Frank Parsons, his observer, shook his head.

  'How can you spot gas cylinders from this height?' he grumbled.

  His words were cut off by the ping of a bullet on the struts of the plane, and Richard veered sideways.

  'Archie's busy. I'll turn eastwards, see if we can spot any troop movements.'

  He flew on below the low cloud, dodging 'Archie', the German anti-aircraft guns, as best he could as he circled round behind the German lines facing Ypres.

  Nothing exceptional seemed to be happening. There were no extra troop concentrations, nothing to verify the reports they had been receiving of a German offensive. And as Frank said, how could you spot gas cannisters from more than 2,000 feet?

  'Watch it, Fritz coming up!' Frank suddenly shouted, and Richard glanced over his shoulder to see a German Albatross approaching.

  He began to climb, circling round so as to be above and behind the Albatross, but the German had the same idea. For ten minutes or more they both tried to gain the advantage.

  Richard had a slight edge in speed, and far more cunning. He soon demonstrated his superiority, and manoeuvred into position so that Frank could aim his rifle at the Germans.

  'Now we've got 'em!' Frank exulted, and fired.

  They were barely thirty feet apart. Richard, glancing across, saw a stain of red spreading over the chin of the German observer, and an expression of horrified dismay on the pilot's face.

  'That'll teach 'em to chuck filthy choking gas at us!' Frank crowed with satisfaction. 'Can you get me close again so that I can get the other bastard?'

  Richard slowed his speed slightly, but the Albatross pilot suddenly dived and set off northwards, Richard in hot pursuit.

  Twice more they caught the Albatross, but Frank's aim was less sure, and as they circled again to recover lost height Richard saw two more German planes converging on them.

  'Damn, we'll have to leave it,' he muttered.

  They were by now well into German-held territory, but in the excitement of the chase both Richard and Frank had lost track of their position.

  He turned towards the sout
h-west, but found his way blocked by yet another Albatross. Their former quarry, aware of rescue at hand, turned back to rejoin the fight. Richard concentrated grimly as a macabre game of tag began.

  Twist and turn, climb and dive as he would, Richard was unable to evade his pursuers. They developed a system of one harrying him until he contrived, by greater speed or skill, to get away, only to be attacked by another waiting, circling enemy. Their clear intention was to prevent him making for the safety of the Allied lines, if they could not shoot him down.

  Frank managed to damage their first adversary again, hitting the fuel tank so that the pilot had to make for a safe landing. A few minutes later he shot the pilot of a second plane and it went spinning downwards out of control.

  'We'll do it yet!' he gasped. 'After the next one,' he cried out, but Richard shook his head.

  'We're almost out of fuel. I've got to head for home. Just wish I knew where home was.'

  Frank glanced round, then pointed. 'Isn't that Lille, straight ahead? If we turn westwards we'll be heading for Ypres.'

  'Let's hope we make it.'

  They might have done if one of the German shots hadn't punctured their fuel tank, the bullet lodging in the hole, so that only a slight seepage was lost. Richard soon became aware of the fuel level dropping faster than it should have, and he did his best to take advantage of every favourable current of air.

  They were still a dozen miles short of the trenches when Frank, staring ahead, exclaimed in dismay.

  'Hell, Richard, they seem to have used the gas. See that greenish cloud straight ahead, right above Ypres? We can't land there now.'

  'We won't make it anyway. I'm going to have to come down.'

  He looked swiftly about him. There was a flat looking field, well away from all houses but surrounded by a belt of trees, to his right, and he turned towards it. It looked isolated, and if they were lucky they would be able to set fire to their plane before the Germans discovered them.

  They were a few hundred yards away, approaching the trees, when the bullet slipped loose, and the remaining fuel gushed out of the tank. The engine coughed and spluttered, and though Richard fought to hold it, he was unable to prevent the plane from starting to spin.