The Shadow of the Sycamores

by Doris Davidson

  Nevertheless, it was good news, the very best. These youths, most of them still in their teens, were free from maternal eyes, free from all restraints except the sergeant’s threat and, even if they were kept busy drilling and making sure they kept their rifle and bayonet skills sharp, they had every evening free. What else could they do except amuse themselves with the girls?

  It had gone well past the amusing stage for Jerry, though. He was in dead earnest now. He had asked Rob’s permission – been forced to ask, really, but he didn’t mind – to marry Daphne, although he still had to ask the girl herself. He put the question to her that night, not on his knees because the grass was wet, but she hadn’t cared. She didn’t even take time to consider it, just threw her arms around him and kissed him until he was gasping for air.

  He pondered over telling her about Anna and the baby, but it was still too raw too speak about and, anyway, what was the point? What he felt now was far beyond anything he had felt for Anna Cairns, even after they were wed. His love for her had been pity to a large extent and who could tell what she had felt for him? Whatever it was, it was certainly not the love of a normal girl for her husband. Besides, Daphne could never find out about his first marriage. He hadn’t told his parents so they could never tell her anything. The only people who knew were the Millers and Tina Paul and Daphne would never come in contact with any of them.

  * * *

  After the wedding in the house at Cramond, James Ferguson accompanied his son and his wife to Ardbirtle despite Samara’s assurances that she could manage Leo by herself.

  ‘If it was a straightforward journey,’ the man had pointed out, ‘it wouldn’t be so bad but you’ll need a taxi to take you to Waverley to get the train to Aberdeen and then you’ve to change at the other end. Once you get to Ardbirtle, you’ll need another taxi to take you to Corbie Den and there’s luggage to manage as well as an invalid husband. No, it’s best that we come with you.’

  In the event, as Samara had expected and was quite relieved about, Madeline had opted to have an ‘excruciating headache’ that day and was unable to travel but the young woman was very glad of her father-in-law’s help. She definitely would never have managed on her own.

  James stayed with them until he was sure that she was going to cope and he even hired a car to take him to see Henry and Fay, to let them know that his son was far from ready for visitors. Fay’s first thought was that he was wrong, that Leo would be delighted to see them, then came the realisation that he was blind and she decided that his father was probably right. It would take some time yet.

  James Ferguson made quite an impression on Henry. He had supposed that an ex-top surgeon would look down on ordinary working folk but he couldn’t have been friendlier. He visited them quite a few times and he also insisted on staying with Leo for an hour now and then to let Mara go in the taxi to see her parents.

  The young bride had to keep reassuring her mother that she would be all right, that she would manage to deal with Leo whatever happened, and Fay could see that her daughter was on heckle pins all the time she was there. It was quite clear that she was not happy being away from her husband.

  Before he returned to Edinburgh, James Ferguson endeared himself to Fay by praising Samara and saying that he had every confidence in her. ‘She is much stronger than she looks, mentally as well as physically, and she knows how to handle Leo. You and Henry made a good job of raising her and I do not think it will be very long before you will be welcome visitors to Corbie Den.’

  Mara now had sole responsibility of caring for her husband for the first time, dealing with his moods and tantrums, easing his aches and pains, allaying his fears of the nightmares that still haunted him. After the first week, she wondered how long she could keep going with only two or three hours’ sleep every night but, gradually, as winter gave way to spring, the snow and frost disappeared, the snowdrops began to nod their heads and there were wide patches of yellow and purple as the crocuses put in their appearance.

  Everything changed now. Leo thought he could see shadows, not definite shapes, but at least it gave him hope. The soft breezes brought a lightness into the young couple’s lives and they spent much time in the gardens surrounding the cottage. The crows – the corbies that gave its name to their home – started to build their nests in the trees, in the same place and same time every year, as the young couple were to discover. A much calmer Leo, his sight continuing to improve, would sit of an afternoon watching Samara as she weeded the flowerbeds, planted seed potatoes and other vegetables in the vegetable patch and generally put their ‘estate’ in order.

  They could converse companionably now and the young woman soon noticed a change in Leo’s appearance as well as in his temperament. His facial scars were not so noticeable; the angry redness had faded. She decided that spending so much time in the open air was good for him and so she started taking him outside for an hour or so in the early evenings also. They would listen to the birds chattering to each other, watch them hopping up to the bird tables she filled every day with crumbs and dishes of water, laugh at the blue tits, who would only go into the box with the hole just big enough for them.

  It was an idyllic existence and Leo’s occasional outbursts were getting fewer and farther apart. Although she knew that he would never get back to being the charming handsome man he had been when they first met, she now had hopes that he would improve even more as time went by.

  She had no worries now about leaving him while she went into town on an old bicycle she had found in one of the outhouses to replenish their groceries and any other items that needed replacing. At first, she had come back as soon as she finished shopping but now she took ten minutes to call on her mother, who was always anxious to know how things were going at Corbie Den.

  ‘Can’t I come to see Leo?’ Fay asked every time but the answer was always, ‘He’s not ready to see anybody yet.’

  Mara sometimes felt guilty about this. Maybe Leo wouldn’t mind seeing her mother. Maybe she was being like the blue tits, making sure that no intruders could get in. Maybe she should ask him how he felt about it.

  * * *

  Jerry was grateful that Lil Nelson and Daphne made all the arrangements for the wedding. A special licence had been obtained for the sake of speed and no fuss and the wedding was planned for one week ahead. That would give them fourteen days to enjoy their married state before he was posted overseas. He and Rob took a stroll along to the pub most evenings to be out of the women’s way for an hour or so but his last hour was always spent walking with his fiancée.

  He had tried to control his increasing passion, even quoting the sergeant’s threat, but Daphne just laughed, ‘But nobody’ll know, darling. We’ll be married before I even know myself if I’m expecting.’

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. It wasn’t proper for a girl to be so bold but he loved her and her kisses made him want her so much that he couldn’t resist any longer.

  It was a first time for both of them but, nonetheless, it was marvellously, mind-blowingly, heart-stoppingly perfect. So perfect, in fact, that it was repeated some minutes later and twice every night until their wedding day.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  1917

  Since arriving in Belgium, Jerry Rae had not often had time to think so a lull in the gunfire and exploding shells came as a welcome reprieve, letting him turn his mind to his darling Daphne. The most beautiful girl in the world. His wife. His father-in-law had insisted on paying for them to stay in a hotel for a week and he had really looked forward to having that time to themselves.

  Knowing that their time together would be short – although he hadn’t foreseen how short – they let their passions run rampant every time they went to bed until exhaustion forced them to have at least some sleep. And, during the days, they wandered about the town creating memories for the time they would be apart – a time that came only too soon. They had not even had breakfast on the third day of their stay in the hotel when th
e message came that the battalion was being shipped out that morning and he must report immediately. They’d had no time for a long goodbye – just a quick peck on the cheek in front of the despatch rider and it was over. Perhaps it was just as well. Unlimited goodbyes could stretch out agonisingly. An instant break was easier in the long run.

  As relief for a battle-weary set of men who were trying to hold on to a small village they had captured from the Germans, the Gordons were thrown in at the deep end when they finally reached their destination. It had been hard going, one step forward to two steps back, and God alone knew how long they could keep it up.

  The acrid fumes of war still hung around them but, if he closed his eyes, Jerry fancied he could smell the delicate perfume Daphne had worn – only for a moment and then it was gone again. There had been no mail yet but he had managed to scribble a couple of short notes to his wife, though it was anybody’s guess when she would get them. If he could only have some idea of when he would see her again, it would help him to survive in this hellhole. He would count the days, his spirits rising as the number lessened. Please God, bring this bloody war to an end.

  Sadly, the only thing that came to an end was the lull in the firing.

  Fay was shocked when she saw Leo and found it hard to believe her daughter’s assurance that he had been much worse when she saw him first. How any man could have stood up to what he had gone through was a miracle. How any woman could cope with what Mara was faced with every day was also beyond belief.

  ‘My heart went out to both of them,’ Fay told her husband that night, ‘but they seem happy enough.’

  ‘That’s the main thing,’ Henry smiled. ‘I’ll bike over on Sunday afternoon for a wee while. Leo might like a wee chat with a man for a change.’

  Despite being forewarned, he was shocked at the pitiful sight his son-in-law presented and found it hard to think of something to speak about. The progress of the war was out of the question. The poor soul wouldn’t want to be reminded of the horrors, of the setbacks, the defeats the British army was facing in all quarters. The safest bet was the weather or the garden.

  The war, however, was what Leo wanted to hear about, shaking his head at some points but nodding his agreement to others, while Mara lay on the grass beside her husband’s chair, smiling fondly as he propounded what his tactics would be if he were the commander-in-chief. Nonetheless, after an hour, she could sense, from Leo’s slowing speech, that he was growing too tired and so she got to her feet as a signal to her father to leave.

  Thankfully understanding, he, too, stood up. ‘I’d better go, Leo, or I’ll be getting thrown out.’

  Mara saw him off on the bicycle and, when she went back to her husband, she wasn’t altogether surprised that his eyes had darkened. ‘You could surely allow me to tell my visitors when they should leave?’ he barked as she pushed the wheelchair indoors.

  ‘I’m sorry, dear, but I thought you looked tired.’

  ‘If I had wanted him to leave, I would have said so.’

  For the rest of the afternoon and the evening, Leo sat in surly silence, barely acknowledging the meal he was given, and Mara wished that her father had stayed away. Her husband was not ready for male company.

  She had hoped that Leo would apologise when she made him ready for bed but, even when she was lying beside him, he was rigid and uncommunicative. With a sigh, she turned away, almost regretting having agreed to his father’s proposal, but knowing that he was better with her than with his stepmother. In any case, this was just a little hiccup – he would come round tomorrow.

  Not much more than three minutes later, she felt his hand on her shoulder. She turned round slowly, guessing that he needed something – a drink of water perhaps or just to be shifted a little.

  His hand rose to caress her cheek. ‘I’m sorry, Samara. I was an utter brute to you and I don’t know why you bother with me.’

  Pity for him almost overwhelmed her but it was pity enclosed in a deep, deep love. Whatever he did, no matter how he treated her, she still loved him as much as she had done when he courted her. Even having to look at his wasted body and scarred face every day, she could, at times, see him as he used to be – tall and handsome with an attractive smile and personality to match. ‘It’s all right, Leo, dear,’ she murmured, ‘I do understand.’

  He tilted her chin up so that he could kiss her. ‘I don’t think you do, Samara. I grant you I was a little tired but I was enjoying myself for the first time since …’ He sighed deeply. ‘Your father was talking to me as man to man not as a visitor to a crippled wreck. He made me forget what I was. He made me feel whole again until you broke the spell.’

  ‘Oh, Leo, I’m truly sorry. I didn’t want you to get overtired – that’s why …’

  ‘I realise that now and it is me who should be sorry. Can you forgive me?’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive, my darling.’ She kissed him tenderly and felt his arms tightening round her.

  ‘Oh, God!’ he moaned in a moment. ‘This must be purgatory for you. I am useless to you as a husband, absolutely useless.’

  ‘I don’t care about that side of things,’ she assured him. ‘I love you the way you are.’

  ‘You should have married an able-bodied, lusty young man, someone who could give you children to love. You are a born mother, Samara, and I am just your little boy.’

  ‘No, Leo! I never think of you as a little boy. I love you as a man, a real man.’

  ‘A nice try, Samara.’

  ‘It’s true! It’s perfectly true!’

  ‘Have you never wished that I could make love to you?’

  ‘Stop torturing yourself! I just need to know that you still love me, that’s all.’

  He fell asleep first and, listening to his steady breathing, she prayed that he wouldn’t slip back into the black depths of despair if the improvement he hoped for did not materialise.

  Back from the line for a few days’ respite, silence reigned as the young Scots eagerly read the mail that had been waiting for them. Jerry got a pile of letters at once from Daphne and sorted them into order by date before looking at what she had written. The first few were mostly about how much she loved him, how much she had enjoyed their three days as man and wife, how much she missed him now. Then the tone changed slightly because she was worried about not hearing from him. He picked up the second last one, hoping that she had received at least the note he had scribbled when they landed in Zeebrugge and had reached only the third line when he gave out a howl of delight.

  ‘I don’t know how you will feel about this,’ she had written, ‘but I am in seventh heaven. I didn’t say anything before because I wanted to be absolutely sure but we are going to have a baby.’

  He skimmed the rest, hardly taking in the assurances of love, the excitement she felt, how she hoped he would be home in time for the birth.

  Waiting until his heart slowed to normal, he read it over again, carefully this time and right to the very end. He was glad that he was about to become a father for real – if only he could be with Daphne throughout her waiting time. He would be worrying about her now until he heard that the child had been born and they were both well.

  After reading the good news again, he looked at the last letter. She had got his first note, thank goodness, and she said that some of her friends had told her they sometimes had to wait for weeks and weeks for a letter from their men in the forces. So she understood that he couldn’t always get time to write but begged him to write as often as he could.

  He did his best but he was finding it more and more difficult to know what to write even when he did get time. She would only be upset if he told her of the conditions he was living in, of seeing comrades fall around him like ninepins, of the terror that swept over him when a fresh bombardment began. He could, and did, tell her that they were forging ahead, even if their progress would be more correctly described as ‘inching’.

  Eventually, thank God, at a cost of hundreds of men, they rec
aptured one small town that the enemy had earlier wrested from them, and, with so few of each battalion remaining, it was a mixed bunch that put up a careworn, but heartfelt, cheer that the enemy had retreated.

  Their spirits rose even further when they were told that each man would be allowed three days’ leave, in a rota of perhaps twenty at a time. For most of them, home was too far away even to attempt to reach, so they made plans to have a good old spree in the nearest town that was still standing. Booze and dames, as the Americans said, what more could they want?

  Jerry, of course, wanted his own ‘dame’. Surely he could chance getting a ship to Dover so he could go and see his wife? Even if they had only one day together, it would be something and she was pretty near her time. He might even be there when the infant arrived – it depended on … no, it would be sheer good luck if that was how it landed and he had never been blessed with good luck.

  He was one of ten in the second truck that left their position well behind the front line, singing lustily as they negotiated the shell-holes in the road, shouting encouragement to the lines of marching men en route to the battlefield – these were the reinforcements they had managed without but would probably need next time.

  Only three were left when they reached Zeebrugge – the others had been dropped off along the way – and they searched for a boat due to depart as soon as possible. After only about ten minutes, they came across a small ex-trawler on the point of leaving for Dover. Their dilapidated appearance won the day for them and they settled down on deck to have a much-needed sleep.

  They were awakened, in the grey raininess of the early morning, by the bump against the jetty and sprang into wakefulness immediately, rushing to the side and jumping off as soon as they could. The three young soldiers separated now, heading for various points not too far from the docks. Jerry managed to get a lift on another truck to within quarter of a mile of the Nelson’s house and sprinted the rest of the way.