by Gloria Cook
Alec crept up close to her and whispered, ‘Is he asleep?’
‘I think so.’
‘We should take a look. I’ll never forget that first night when we found him huddled in the comer sobbing without making a sound. It still chills me.’ It was something Alec had done on many occasions after receiving his father’s denunciations. ‘Did you leave the lantern on?’
‘Yes, up safely out of reach.’
Setting his face in concentration, Alec slowly opened the door. ‘He’s not in bed!’
He and Emilia pushed through the door together and both sighed with relief. Jonathan was stretched out on the hearth rug, with a bundle of letters in his hands. ‘Hello, Uncle Alec, Emilia,’ he said, as if this was not an unusual occurrence.
It was not the first time Emilia was struck as how adult he sounded. ‘You should be sleeping, young man.’
‘What have you got there, old chap?’ Alec was all smiles as he got down on the floor with the boy.
‘Letters from my daddy. Mummy put them in with my toys. This one says, “How’s my little hero?” That’s me.’ Jonathan pointed to himself. “‘Tell him, I’m sure he’s grown an inch or two since I last wrote.” I think I have, Uncle Alec. I’m getting big. What do you think?’
‘You can read, Jonny?’ Alec gasped, glancing up at Emilia.
‘Of course. I can read all the small words, and I know the big ones in Daddy’s letters off by heart. Mummy taught me. She’s taught me many things. How to grow seeds. How to make toast. She was going to teach me how to paint with oils.’ Jonathan suddenly clung to Alec’s neck. ‘Make her come back, Uncle Alec. She said she never could. I miss her so much. I want her back.’
While Jonathan sobbed, Alec wrapped him up tight. ‘Your mother had to go away. I’m sorry, but there was nothing I could do about it. You have me and Uncle Ben and Emilia now. You like Tilda, she makes you nice things to eat, doesn’t she? And you like Great-grandma. She makes you laugh, remember? Perhaps tomorrow there will be a letter from your daddy. Emilia will take you out to the lane and look for the postman. You’ll do that, won’t you, Emilia?’
‘Of course, I will.’ Emilia came close and, reaching down, stroked Jonathan’s silky dark hair. She was struck at how attentive a mother Ursula had been. ‘Then we’ll find lots of interesting things to do.’
Jonathan stretched out a hand to her, and Emilia clasped it and knelt beside him and Alec.
‘Don’t worry, Jonny,’ Alec repeated his pledge of earlier in the day. ‘Uncle Ben has to go away soon, but Emilia and I will always be here.’
Chapter Eight
‘This is better than being in a draughty hideout in the woods, isn’t it, darling,’ Ben said, as he locked the back door of Ford House behind him and Emilia.
‘A place all of our own for a little while.’ Emilia took off her gloves and rubbed her hands. This autumn seemed colder than any previous one, but each succeeding season since the war seemed harsher, with less sun, less colour. They had slipped here under the threat of a shower of rain, and added to the chilliness of the house was a sense of brooding loneliness and sorrow. If Tristan stepped foot inside here again he would be bringing more sorrows with him, for a letter had been sent from his brothers informing him of the reason his son was now residing at the farm. ‘Wish we could light a fire.’
‘I’ll make you warm.’ Ben smiled with gentle humour. This was her Ben. Tender and loving. To hide her fearfulness at his having to leave her soon, perhaps for ever, she didn’t wait until they went through into the sitting room to kiss him. Ben’s eagerness was the same, then he smiled into her eyes and took her hand.
‘I expect there’ll be some sherry in the sideboard.’ He was speaking like a host. Emilia could tell he was as nervous and shaky with the anticipation of what might happen as she was.
She settled herself in the chair beside the hearth, noticing the signs of things being removed – small personal things, she supposed. Crumpled on the sewing table was a piece of embroidery, spattered with tiny red spots, a needle hanging down from a short length of silk. She picked up the square of pale blue satin and flattened it out on her lap. The spots were obviously blood. Ursula had abandoned this in much the same way as she had her marriage. ‘I suppose Ursula will have written to Tristan by now.’
Ben was pouring the sherry and she put the embroidery back in its place. He was sombre for a moment. ‘She was quite a good sort, really. I was fond of her until she made Tris a cuckold.’
Emilia took the glass he brought her. ‘I’ve only tasted sherry before at the farm, when Alec opened a bottle last Christmas Day.’
Ben knelt in front of her. ‘I promise to give you everything after we’re married and have our own home. One day you might find yourself a colonel’s wife, perhaps out in India, then we’ll settle back in England, two old dears together. Like the sound of that, darling?’
‘I haven’t thought much about being an Army wife, leaving Hennaford and the farm.’ She felt a strange sense of disappointment at the prospect of leaving her present life. ‘But wherever you are, Ben, that’s where I want to be.’
Ben clinked his glass against hers. ‘A toast to our future then, Mr and Mrs Ben Harvey. Wait a minute.’ He took her glass away and held her hand. ‘I haven’t done this properly yet. Emilia, darling, will you marry me?’
She kissed his lips. ‘Yes, Ben, of course.’
Ben pulled her to her feet. A long time passed in which they showered each other with devotion. ‘I should have a ring for you,’ he said.
‘A ring’s not important. Only you and I and our love matters.’
They finished the sherry and tasted the sweet liquid on each other’s lips.
‘Why don’t we go upstairs?’ he breathed against her face.
She looked straight into his eyes. ‘All right.’
From Tristan Harvey’s bedroom window, Emilia looked out across the fields all the way to Ford Farm. How quickly things could change. A week ago, Lottie’s wanderings had led to her sleeping at the farm. There were two new workers there now, and Jonathan. Ursula had left, giving her and Ben a place where they could consummate their love. A week, in which thousands of men would have lost their lives. Fate could take a loved one away in a single moment. Would fate deprive her of Ben?
‘You’re not worrying about Grandma, are you?’ Ben noticed the direction of her gaze.
‘Of course not. I was just thinking…’
‘If you’ve changed your mind, I’ll understand, Em.’ He put his arms around her from behind, placed a peck on the back of her neck. ‘Although I’d be terribly disappointed.’
‘No, it’s not that.’ She turned in his arms, rested her face against him. ‘It’s nothing at all.’
‘Let’s just concentrate on us.’
Emilia tried to imagine they were the only two people in the world, but while they were discarding their coats she became aware of the open wardrobe doors and the pulled-out drawers – the signs of Ursula’s careless packing. ‘We’ll tidy everything before we go. I’m sure Alec means to see the house is in order before Tristan’s next leave.’
‘Forget the others, Em.’
At his mild scolding, Emilia looked up at Ben’s gorgeous face. He brushed her hair back with his fingertips and kissed the tender skin at her temples. Their lips met and without all the usual restraints to stop them, they began exploring, yearning for new experiences. Tenderness and adoration rapidly flamed into pressing desire.
His breathing coming fast, Ben began undoing the buttons on her cardigan. His anxious fingers wouldn’t work and he pushed the cardigan down off her arms. ‘Sorry, darling, I didn’t expect to feel so eager.’
Emilia saw to the buttons of her blouse and stepped out of her skirt, then took off more clothes.
Ben wrested off his jumper, his sight rooted on her body, shaped in wondrous femininity in just her chemise.
Her insides fluttering, Emilia glanced at the screen, longing for the sanctuary behind
it. To bare all for the first time, even with Ben, was a little too much, too sudden. Perhaps there was a dressing gown of Tristan’s in the wardrobe she could put on.
Ben had got his shirt and vest off before he noticed her, frozen and tense. He swept back the covers on the bed. ‘Darling, get in as you are.’
She lay down on the cold linen sheets that smelled faintly of Ursula’s delicate perfume, and pulled the bedcovers up to her shoulders. When naked, Ben leapt in beside her, sought her lips immediately, freed her from the covers and set about examining every impression of her body.
He hoisted her chemise up and lay over her. He was shaking, his breathing loud and harsh. ‘Help me, Em. I’m afraid I might hurt you. I can’t stop. I’ll die if we don’t soon…’
To Emilia, he was the vulnerable one now. All her love for him welled up inside her, but she had no notion how to help him. ‘I don’t know what to do, Ben.’
Then he was hurting her. She bit her lip to prevent herself crying out.
‘I’m sorry, darling. Please be patient. I… oh, my love, my love.’
Emilia cried out and clutched his back. It felt as if he was tearing her apart inside. She tried to concentrate on Ben’s love, caring only that he was getting enjoyment from her. Then he adjusted his position, and the pain turned to discomfort and she was able to put her arms around his neck and respond to his kisses. She was willing to wait, subdued and sacrificial, until it was over. Then a tiny thrill of pleasure came from somewhere deep within her. Then another. She couldn’t locate exactly where the points of pleasure were inside her, all she was aware of was that they were joining together and spreading out in tiny waves of delight. When she felt she might join in with Ben, he shuddered, groaned in ecstasy and fell still.
He kissed her again and again before rolling away on to his back and bringing his arm up across his brow, panting. Emilia turned on her side to him. Tears were on his flushed cheeks. He felt for her hand. ‘That was the most fantastic experience of my life.’ He took his arm away and looked at her. ‘I’m sorry, darling. Forgive my selfishness. I know that it wasn’t good for you. You are all right though? It wasn’t too awful, was it?’
‘It was wonderful, Ben, because it was with you.’ She caressed his damp face, then laid a hand over his heart. It was thudding wildly. As long as his heart was beating, as long as he was alive, she didn’t care about her own pain and discomfort. And there was the hope of more enjoyment and fulfilment for herself next time.
He faced her and held her against him, stroking her hair and giving her gentle kisses. ‘We’re as one now, Em, like it says in the marriage service. Don’t worry if anything’s happened – a baby. I want us to get married before I go overseas anyway. I want to take as much of you with me as I can. We’ll convince Edwin to give us his blessing, even if it means telling him what we’ve done. Em, you’re quiet, what are thinking?’
‘That I’m blessed to have you love me.’
‘Honestly?’
She raised herself up and with feather-light fingertips wiped his tears away. ‘Honestly, Ben.’ She had the clearest look at his hurt eye. He moved his head slightly, as if he must to gain direct access to her gaze, something she had noticed him doing before, to her and others and objects he was about to touch. There was something wrong with his eye. She wouldn’t mention it now. She didn’t want anything to spoil this special afternoon.
‘How are you… you know, down…?’ he asked.
‘I’ll live.’ She laughed.
He became serious. ‘You’re so much stronger than I am, Em.’
‘Am I now? Then I have you in my power, Ben Harvey.’
‘You always have had, Emilia Rowse.’
* * *
Emilia pulled off her boots outside the back door of the farm. Ben was about to open it and she knocked his arm down.
‘Don’t, Ben. We shouldn’t go inside together.’ Her face was on fire.
‘Edwin’s not likely to be there, and I’m tired of us having to avoid each other.’
‘I can’t help thinking that people will know what we’ve done just by looking at us.’
‘How can they possibly tell?’
‘I don’t know! They just might.’
‘There’s nothing for it but to face them, Em. If you run off somewhere else immediately they probably will make certain deductions.’
‘Well, just make sure you act naturally.’ Making love to her had empowered him somehow. He seemed more mature, more confident and flushed with pride. ‘Take that huge smile off your face, Ben.’
‘Don’t be such a silly. I’m bound to be happy after spending time with the woman I love.’
They stepped inside together. Tilda was lifting a pie out of the oven and only turned her head towards them to smile. Jonathan was stooping to the kitchen floor, winding up a mechanical toy. ‘Look what Uncle Alec’s found for me, Emilia. It was his once. Emilia, watch Great-grandma, she enjoys this.’
Alec appeared from the walk-in larder, where he had been hanging up a brace of pheasants. Glad there was no emphasis on herself, Emilia admired the tin dog, which, when wound up walked on its four short legs. Jonathan stood beside her to watch the toy. ‘See, I’ve laid out a piece of string, to time how fast the dog gets to it.’
Ben swung round to speak to Alec and knocked Jonathan off his feet. He fell with force, striking his ear on the table leg. He was shrieking and screaming, holding on to his ear. The toy was sent bouncing along the floor. Lottie’s bleats of delight turned to frightened wails.
‘Jonny!’ Alec raced to him. ‘Oh, no!’
‘Ben,’ Emilia gasped in disbelief and horror. ‘Didn’t you see him there?’
‘No! I’m sorry. I thought he was further away.’ He reached out to pat Jonathan’s back – he was now up in Alec’s arms, but Alec steered him away.
‘For goodness sake, have more care, will you? You’d have to be blind not to have seen him.’
Emilia forgot Jonathan’s distress and Lottie’s need for comfort as a terrible truth hit her. ‘Oh, my God, that’s it, isn’t it? You can’t see properly, Ben, because you’re blind!’
Chapter Nine
Ben looked up and looked down and looked straight ahead, obeying the instructions of Mr Preston, the optical consultant. He submitted to a thorough examination. Mr Preston, white-coated, as thin and bony as he was impersonal and serious, a wearer of big round spectacles and dangerously crisp collars, disappeared into another room with a bundle of notes and X-rays.
Hemmed in alone in the small bare, pale-green room, with the alarming raw smell of antiseptic thick in his nose, Ben wondered if the consultant had gone off to study his findings, to get a second opinion, or was simply a sadistic rotter to leave him to wait and wait for his final diagnosis.
Ben had not mentioned his blindness. Mr Preston had, in a terse manner, as if aggrieved about his silence on the matter. ‘But it will clear?’ Ben had asked, willing the consultant to say it would. ‘It’s only a little dark spot on my eye. Surely, it need not prevent me from serving our country? It’s all I’ve been waiting to do for the last three years.’
Mr Preston had made a dismissive grunt, as if conveying it was his turn to keep silent.
Ben felt the high walls were folding in on him. ‘Please, God, let me do my service. Don’t make me stay at home like some coward or a conchy. I couldn’t bear that. All my life I’ve wanted to be a soldier. I’d still be in the cadet corps if it wasn’t for the shortage of workers on the farm. Please do something, even now… please.’
The door opened. In came Mr Preston, minus his white coat. A good or a bad sign? Mr Preston resumed his seat at the desk, and took a moment to smooth at the knife-edge creases of the trousers of his severe dark suit. He looked at Ben and Ben recoiled at the teeth-exposing grin the consultant now displayed. ‘Mr Harvey – Ben, I’m afraid it’s bad news, as I’m sure you must have expected. The grit that punctured the delicate tissue of your left eye has, sadly, resulted in you losing half
of your vision there. If the offending matter had been removed by a doctor, without a doubt there would have been a good chance of saving your sight. Whoever attended to you did so most clumsily. There’s nothing I can do to reverse the damage. You must take heart in the fact that this tragedy happened as a result of you performing an act of rescue.’
Ben felt as if he was being swallowed up by something monstrous and unholy. He would rather be standing in front of enemy lines, facing certain death, than this. ‘So I’m blind – partially blind. Tell me it need not stop me from doing my duty to fight. I’ve lost one brother in this war, and even as we speak, my other brother might be dying or already dead. I need to avenge Henry. I need to support Tristan if he still lives. It won’t matter, will it, that I can’t see as well as I should? Your other senses improve greatly when you lose one, don’t they? I will adapt. I already have. I’m beginning to instinctively correct my limited vision.’
Echoes of Jonathan’s screams until his ear had stopped hurting, memory of how he’d clung to Alec or Emilia for the rest of the day, made Ben shiver. Emilia had been loving and sympathetic, of course, but then, it seemed to him, she had given a strange secretive smile. He knew what that smile meant – she was hoping his injury was permanent and would keep him safely at home, to fight the war by producing crops in the fields he had walked past alone on the way here. It was important to keep the country fed, people sometimes said. Not to him it wasn’t. Anyone could work the land. Not everyone was as willing as he to face death and danger.
‘A colleague of mine is on the premises, Ben.’ Mr Preston persisted with his horsey smile. ‘He’s an Army medical man. I’m positive that he will pass the same judgement as I, that you are medically unfit for service.’ Ben let out a cry of despair. ‘But he’s willing to examine you. I can take it you are agreeable to the idea?’
