The Shadow of the Sycamores

by Doris Davidson

  ‘Things often happen that don’t seem right,’ he muttered. He knew that only too well but this certainly wasn’t the time to tell her his troubles. ‘Let them get on with it – you’ve nothing to reproach yourself with. Just sit down and I’ll make some tea.’

  So strung up that she couldn’t help herself, Fay chattered on until he handed her a steaming cup and he had just sat down himself when Henry walked in, his grim face lightening when he saw his son. ‘Who told you?’

  ‘I’ve been through all that,’ Jerry said with a slight smile.

  ‘He didn’t know until I told him,’ Fay sighed. ‘I was nearly ready to go to Oak Cottage when he came in and what a sorry welcome I gave him. What’s wrong that you’re back so soon?’

  ‘I couldn’t stand the bickering. Bella and Jeannie were trying to lay down the law because they’re oldest but Kitty and Abby were giving them what for for neglecting him. I couldn’t stand it any longer and Pogie came away with me.’ Henry turned now to his son. ‘Are you home for a while, lad, or is this just a flying visit?’

  Although desperate to unburden himself, Jerry held his tongue, as much in respect for his grandfather as for the effect his tale would have on his parents. ‘Just a flying visit, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You’ll be here for the funeral, though.’ Fay was taking this for granted.

  It took Jerry a split second to make up his mind – it was now or never. ‘No, Mother, I won’t be here.’ He held up his hand to stop her speaking. ‘I just came to tell you something and I wish to God I could have chosen a better time. I was at Huntly earlier on, enlisting in the Gordons …’

  ‘No!’ Fay burst out. ‘No, Jerry, you can’t. You’re not old enough. You’re …’

  ‘I said I was eighteen.’

  ‘But …’ Fay began but Henry shushed her. ‘Has something happened at The Sycamores? I thought you were settled there and you can’t walk out the minute something doesn’t go right for you. You’re nearly a man now, Jerry, and you’ve got to put up with things, face up to trouble.’

  Jerry lowered his eyes. This was an ideal opportunity for him to open his heart to them, to let them soothe away this ever-gnawing agony, but how could he add to the deep pain already etched on their faces? One piece of bad news was more than enough. ‘I’ve been very happy in my work,’ he said softly, looking at his father, ‘but one man after another was going off to war and I want to fight for my country as well.’

  The eruption he feared did not come. His mother gave a little sniff and his father laid his hand over hers. ‘No, my Fairy, he’s right. It is every man’s duty to do his bit.’

  ‘But he’s so young,’ she wailed.

  ‘He’s a strong lad, a brave lad, he’ll make a fine soldier. I’m proud of him.’

  Jerry was ashamed because his mother’s eyes had filled with tears and also because of the ball of emotion that had risen to constrict his throat. Did it prove that he was still a bairn after all?

  ‘When do you have to report?’ Henry asked.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ the boy succeeded in saying. ‘I’d have liked to go back to say goodbye to them all at The Sycamores but there wasn’t time.’

  Fortunately for all their sakes, the emotional spell was broken by Mara making an appearance. ‘You said you’d both be at Granda’s,’ she accused, then her tone changed when she saw her brother. ‘Jerry, who told you?’

  The question made the other three give crooked smiles in spite of their heavy hearts.

  ‘Cheer up, my Fairy Fay,’ Henry said when they went to bed. ‘He’ll be all right. He may be quiet but there’s strength there and independence.’

  ‘I can’t help thinking, though. If anything happens to him, we’ll have lost both our sons and I know I couldn’t bear it.’

  He gathered her in his arms, the same slim body he knew so well. She hadn’t changed at all except for the few grey hairs starting to appear. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to him, my darling. Try to get some sleep. It’s been a gruelling day, what with one thing and another, and we’ve still the funeral to get through.’

  There was silence for a minute, then she murmured, ‘I wish Mara could hear from Leo. If we could only get one bit of good news, I’d feel a lot better.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  On leave after his initial training, Jerry Rae still could not pluck up the courage to tell his parents about his wife and son. In any case, the past few weeks had been so hectic that he had tumbled into bed every night exhausted – no lying awake thinking, nothing except sweet oblivion. So he didn’t need his mother’s comfort to ease the pain. The pain had already eased a fraction … except when he dwelt on it, but enough to let him know that enlisting was the best thing he could have done.

  Of course, his father wanted to know all the details of the route marches, the drills, the weaponry they were using and he could speak about that – he was glad to speak about that. He could sense his mother studying him at these times, clearly wondering why he told her nothing of the things she wanted to know.

  ‘Have you made any friends?’ she had asked on his first day home.

  ‘No.’ How could he? They had no time to socialise.

  ‘Have you met any nice girls?’

  ‘No.’ What did she think they’d been doing? Having a holiday?

  ‘Was the food good?’

  ‘Not too bad.’ They were so hungry after all the exercise they had taken that they would have eaten anything – one of the horses if it had been cooked and put in front of them.

  And so the catechism went on, until he felt like shouting at her to shut up, but he couldn’t. She was only trying, like any other mother, to find out what he had been doing and how he had been treated. What on earth would she say if she saw how many of them were packed into each tent? How the ablutions were hardly worth the name? The latrines just dug out trenches? And all this was here in Scotland, a country claiming to be civilised. What would the conditions be when they went to France, to the battlefields? Not long now. He didn’t care if he was killed – he was quite hoping he would be – but he couldn’t tell her that either.

  It was the night before he was due to leave before he said, into a silence that had fallen, ‘I should have told you this before but I … didn’t want you to worry. We’re being sent down south when we go back and then it’s across the Channel.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Fay exclaimed, her face blanching. ‘Not already, Jerry? You’re still not eighteen and … oh, no!’

  ‘He has to go where they send him.’ Henry swallowed, obviously not as calm as he would like to appear.

  ‘They’re screaming out for reinforcements,’ Jerry pointed out. ‘I don’t know exactly when we’re being shipped, we’re never told any details, but the rumour is we go as soon as we’ve all had our leave.’

  Mara had said nothing and he knew she was thinking of her lad but he didn’t like to mention it.

  They were all up early the next morning, having breakfast when the postman knocked. Nearest the door, Jerry said, ‘I’ll go,’ and after exchanging a few words with the man, he came in and handed a letter to his sister. ‘It’s addressed to you.’

  Colour flooded into her cheeks, hope shone from her eyes but one glance at the envelope made her shake her head and say, her voice dull, ‘It’s not Leo’s writing.’

  ‘At least it’s an ordinary envelope,’ her father consoled, ‘not …’

  ‘Would you like me to open it?’ Fay suggested.

  ‘No, thank you.’ The girl ran her thumb under the flap and pulled out the contents. ‘It’s from Edinburgh.’

  Her parents looked at each other, knowing that she was afraid Leo’s father had written with bad news, and Fay repeated, ‘Do you want me to read it?’ But Mara had already looked at the signature so she added, ‘Is it from Leo’s father?’

  ‘Yes.’ There was silence for a few moments, all watching as her eyes travelled quickly down the page, then she looked up. ‘He’s alive. He’s been there for over two months
but he doesn’t want to see me.’

  Correctly guessing the reason for this, Fay said softly, ‘How badly has he been wounded, dear?’

  Mara herself looked as if she had been wounded, her eyes round and glittering with unshed tears. ‘Very badly, his father says.’ She turned the page to read on and then exclaimed, ‘He’s been blinded, Mother, and he can’t bear anyone seeing him. But I must see him. I don’t care if he is blind. I don’t care how badly he’s been wounded, I’ll still love him.’

  She dashed up to her bedroom and they could hear her opening and closing drawers. ‘She’s not going down there now, is she?’ Henry asked. ‘Shouldn’t she write to his father first?’

  Fay shrugged helplessly. ‘She had almost given up on him, I know that, and to learn that he’s still alive but doesn’t want to see her … well, I would do the same if I were in her shoes.’

  Henry pulled a face at his son as if to say, ‘Women!’

  Brother and sister walked together to the station, Jerry to take the train north to Huntly, Mara going south to Edinburgh. She looked much better after making her decision and Jerry said, ‘I’m pleased your lad’s alive.’ He almost added, ‘and well’ but Leo Ferguson was far from well, apparently.

  She smiled happily. ‘It’s not the best of news but, if he still wants me, I’ll marry him whatever his other injuries are.’

  He felt obliged to issue a warning. ‘Don’t build up your hopes, Mara. His father said he didn’t want to see you and I’ve heard of some men going home completely changed after being maimed in some way.’

  ‘I don’t care. I’ll nurse him back to health.’

  Jerry’s train came first and he kissed her cheek awkwardly. ‘I hope everything goes well for you, Mara. I’ll be thinking of you.’

  Tears sprung to her eyes again. ‘Thanks, Jerry, and I’ll be thinking of you. Look after yourself.’

  As he jumped up the steps, he wished that he had told her about Anna and the baby. It would let her know that she wasn’t alone in her suffering. But at least she would see her fiancé again, though it was doubtful if he’d be pleased about it.

  Never having been far from Ardbirtle, Mara had no idea where to go when she arrived in Waverley Station and, when she asked the guard how to get to Cramond – where James Ferguson had bought a new house – he said she should have come off at the Haymarket. She almost dissolved into tears with frustration but a nearby porter, noticing how upset she was, said brightly, ‘Ach, lassie, you’ll get a bus up on Princes Street that’ll take you right there.

  The helpful bus conductress told her when to get off but her nerve almost failed her as she came to the house. It was not as big and imposing as she had thought, however – just a solid, squarish villa, looking out across the wide estuary of a river, the Forth, she guessed. She had come all this way so she did not intend turning back now. Opening the gate, she walked up the path at the right side of the lovely, well-kept garden. It was a pullout bell and even one gentle pull was enough to make a loud clang reverberate inside somewhere.

  A dainty little maid opened the door and looked at her curiously when she said, ‘I’ve come to see Leo Ferguson, please.’

  ‘Nobody gets to see Mr Leo,’ the girl said curtly and made to close the door.

  Mara stuck her foot out. She would have liked to say, ‘I’m his fiancée.’ But perhaps his parents didn’t know they were engaged so she said, as confidently as she could, ‘I’m sure he’ll see me.’

  ‘He can’t see nobody – he’s blind!’ the maid said ungrammatically and with a hint of triumph.

  ‘Yes, I do know he’s been blinded,’ Mara said patiently. ‘His father wrote and told me. Perhaps you could take me to see him, then?’

  The retired surgeon was much more welcoming than the young servant but not so his wife. ‘Leo does not wish anyone to see him,’ she declared slowly and deliberately as if Mara were retarded. But Mara held her ground, sensing that the elderly man was on her side and, at last, with a ‘Hrrmph!’ he turned to the maid.

  ‘Take Miss Rae to Leo’s room, Daisy, then make a room ready for her.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The maid bobbed and went out, muttering, ‘This way,’ to Mara but her straight back expressed exactly what she was feeling. Just a little way along the corridor, she gave a light tap on a door and, when a tetchy voice said, ‘Who is it?’ she opened it timidly, as if expecting a telling off for looking in. ‘A Miss Rae to see you, Mr Leo.’

  Mara let the girl pass her on the way out then walked in herself, having to hold back from running to take him in her arms. He was looking towards her but with unseeing eyes in a face that bore no resemblance to the man she loved. But he was still Leo and had obviously gone through some horrific ordeal … and she still loved him. Going forward uncertainly, she murmured, ‘Hello, Leo, darling.’

  He turned his head away. ‘You shouldn’t have come, Samara. There’s no future for us now.’

  ‘Of course there is,’ she said brightly. ‘As long as you still love me, nothing has changed.’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid! Everything has changed! I might not be able to see myself but I know perfectly well that I look hideous. You don’t want to be tied to a freak, do you?’

  She bit her lip to keep back the tears. ‘You’re not a freak, Leo, darling. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still the handsome boy who winked at me in the kirk.’

  He ran his hand over the angry scars on his face. ‘You’ll change your mind if you have to look at these every day. I know you will. My stepmother can hardly bear to come near me and I can hear pity even when my father speaks to me. I don’t want pity, Samara, his or yours or anybody’s! Do you understand?’

  In spite of herself, she felt a flash of anger now. ‘All I understand, Leo Ferguson, is that you’ve been sitting there feeling sorry for yourself when you should be glad you’re still alive!’

  His brows plunged down. ‘Still alive?’ he sneered. ‘That’s a laugh! My spine was damaged so I’m paralysed from the waist down and Christ knows what I look like. I am not the young man who winked at you in the kirk. I am not the man who proposed to you and I certainly will not marry you, no matter what you think. Go home, Samara Rae, and find yourself a proper man!’

  The tears came flooding out now. ‘I don’t want any other man, Leo, darling. I just want you, whatever you are, whatever you look like …’

  ‘Get out, damn you! Get out! Get out!’

  Still weeping, she stood up and walked to the door, hoping that he would call her back but one last glance showed that he had turned his head away.

  His father was standing waiting when she went out. ‘I did warn you,’ he said, shaking his head sympathetically. ‘Nobody has been able to make him see sense, not even the doctors and nurses who come in to attend to him. He didn’t want you to know – that’s why I didn’t get in touch with you before – but I eventually realised that you would always wonder what had happened to him and it wasn’t fair to keep you in suspense. I see now, however, that it would have been better for you if I had not written.’

  ‘Oh, no, I’m glad you told me. There’s bound to be some hope, isn’t there? He will improve as time goes on, won’t he?’

  ‘The doctors hold out no hope, my dear. There is a large piece of shrapnel lodged near his brain, which is the reason for the change in his personality, and the slightest movement could mean … the end for him. I am sorry, my dear, but you will have to face facts. I take it that he does not want you to …’

  She dabbed at her eyes. ‘He told me to go home and forget him but I love him, Mr Ferguson, and I’ll never forget him. You told your maid to make a room ready for me so I take it you won’t mind if I stay a few days? He might come round with me. He did love me, I know he did.’

  Mr Ferguson’s smile was a trifle sad. ‘You are welcome to stay but are you sure you know what you are doing? I have the feeling that he will break your heart.’

  ‘I’ll risk it.’

  Most of the ser
vants and workers at The Sycamores left around the same time as the residents. Only Dod Lumsden, two of the maids and Tina Paul stayed on to help clear out the unwanted odds and ends and to scrub the place from top to bottom. At last everything was spotless and it was time for them to go their separate ways before the invasion of the army.

  Raymond Miller had bought a small bungalow on the outskirts of Perth, the place of his birth, and he and Dolly were quite looking forward to their retirement.

  The two gardeners were to be taking on part-time jobs at houses where the owners could not find, or could not afford to employ, full-time workers. Most of the maids had found jobs not too far from where they lived.

  Tina Paul was nursing at Woodend Hospital in Aberdeen, now reserved for Army and Navy cases. She had heard nothing from Jerry Rae and she could not write to him without knowing his service number. The only thing she could do was to pray every night for his safety. If only the war would come to an end, he might find a nice girl and settle down. He deserved some happiness after what he had been through.

  ‘I don’t know if Mara’s thought things through properly.’ Fay looked at her husband, who was scanning the newspaper as he did every evening. She was never altogether sure if he heard anything she said.

  ‘She’s been there for six weeks,’ Henry said without looking up. ‘She must know all Leo’s ups and downs by this time.’

  ‘Maybe but I’m not happy about her wanting to marry him. She never says it outright but I don’t think he’ll ever be a proper husband – if you know what I mean – and she’s still only twenty-five. It’s not natural, really.’

  ‘I bet her father-in-law to be will have told her exactly what to expect – he was a doctor, wasn’t he?’

  ‘A surgeon. But our Mara can be very stubborn when she likes.’