by Gloria Cook
‘That girl doesn’t need anyone, she’s as strong-willed as General Haig, impossible to shift from her own ideas. She’s mourning in an undignified manner, of course! Either rushing about like a frenzied hare or silent to the point of rudeness. She’s successfully harnessed Ben Harvey but now she’s treating him to a cold shoulder. What on earth is he supposed to have done? No, don’t bother to tell me I wouldn’t understand, because that certainly would be the case. And another thing about her, it would be more fitting if she put some space between herself and that tramp.’
‘Archie Rothwell seems a harmless character.’ Honor truly believed this. Emilia had told her, in confidence, about the casual labourer’s tragic naval past. He was civil and respectful, and, she took it for granted, intelligent and from a good background. She felt he would become less distant in time. He had won Jonathan over by his empathy with the animals, and occasionally indulged in short serious chats with the boy on thought-provoking topics.
Florence thumped her fist down this time, making the last of her fine crockery rattle. She was shaking, her breath coming in uncontrolled shreds. ‘Never mind them! Do you want to see us turned out on the streets, girl? Even if I sold this house the proceeds wouldn’t be enough to settle our debts. Look around you: all our best pieces of furniture, all our valuables are gone. Our only hope is for you to marry a rich man. The Harveys have always been well placed and Alec Harvey must have profited from his wife’s death. Lucy Pollard had a splendid trust fund settled on her, apparently.’
Honor knew her aunt was exasperated over her lack of cooperation and she was afraid her aunt would have an attack of some kind, but she couldn’t offer the comfort she was seeking. ‘I’m sorry, Aunt, but your scheme isn’t going to work and you’re going to have to accept it. Alec Harvey can’t be flattered or fooled into a second marriage. Lucy Pollard wasn’t a suitable wife for him and neither would I be. In fact, if he likes anyone, it’s Emilia.’
‘Oh, and don’t I know it!’ Florence scraped out her chair and stamped up and down on her inhospitable time-dulled linoleum. ‘His admiration for her earthy and beguiling ways is evident in his every manner. He’s gentleman enough to stand aside at the moment while she’s still attached to his brother, but I believe if the rift grows between Ben and that girl, he won’t dally in putting a claim on her. Then our cause will be completely lost! You must work hard to get those two reunited. You’re close to both of them, they’d listen to you.’
‘Then what?’ Honor fixed her sight on the raving woman. She wanted to rush to her and soothe her but knew her aunt was more likely to lash out in this current mood than to accept consoling. ‘Please Aunt, you really should calm down. You’ll make yourself ill.’
Florence swallowed hard and noisily but regained only a little control. She was panic-stricken, imagining the degradation of eviction, the humiliation. The workhouse. ‘Well, we mustn’t give up, we just mustn’t. Alec seems to like women who aren’t afraid of work, you’ve already showed him you are willing in that direction. I can think of another way for you to grow closer to him, to show him you have some pleasing feminine attributes. We need to move quickly, Alec’s planning to take his nephew up to London soon to see the boy’s father in hospital. You must get yourself invited to stay overnight at the farm, Honor. We must do something to make you look older, and think of how you can be witty and entertaining.’
‘Aunt Florence, I don’t want to do this. I won’t.’ Honor had never disobeyed or stood up to the woman who had taken her in as an orphaned infant, but now her mind was set. ‘Don’t you see, it’s mercenary. It’s dishonourable. It’s horrible. And I’ll certainly have no part in playing a whore for you. You should have let me take a job ages ago.’
‘Why, you ungrateful—’ Florence stood stock-still and started to weep – the distraught weeping of someone suddenly faced with a multitude of unpalatable truths about herself. ‘Oh, forgive me. I had no right to ask you to do such a thing. I’ve been doing a lot of things wrong these last few years. But if I had allowed you to work, Honor, what could you have done? You’d never have earned enough to solve our troubles. Your uncle always took care of money matters and since his death we’ve been living off his savings. I’m so frightened, Honor. I don’t know what to do.’
Honor couldn’t bear to watch her aunt wilt and fold. She went to her and as she gave comfort, she became the stronger one. ‘You’ve brought me up to believe we’re better than most of the others in the village, but we’re not, are we? Even Archie Rothwell is better than us because he seeks nothing unless he’s earned it honestly. Perhaps life will take an easier turn now we’ve faced facts. Try not to give way to despair, Aunt. Alec Harvey’s a good man, and if necessary I’ll throw the pair of us on his mercy. Emilia wouldn’t stand by and see us suffer and, as we’ve agreed, she does have a lot of influence with him.’
Chapter Fourteen
Emilia was in Wayside Cot, putting linen on the beds for the two men Ben had hired. It had taken a fortnight to complete the renovations, the rebuilding of the single chimney, the making of a workable kitchen and the creation of new doors, all undertaken by the farmhands themselves.
In between her usual duties Emilia had worked here, scrubbing, disinfecting and fashioning comforts. It was where she could be alone, away from the noise and bustle and the sympathetic expressions and abnormally soft speech people used at times of a bereavement. It was somewhere away from Ben.
After emerging from the initial shock of Billy’s death, she had felt sorry for Cyril Trewin and his younger brother Albie, in the same way as she had Archie Rothwell. Cyril, unfit for service after surviving the sinking of a merchant ship in the English Channel, was inclined to be suspicious and defensive, as if always expecting to be reprimanded or cast out. Not surprising, after coming home to find Albie being ill-treated by his employer, a greengrocer in Calenick Street, and his protest leading to them being evicted from Albie’s room above the business. One of the few people whom Cyril trusted was Ben, who monitored his and Albie’s progress at the farm with encouragement, but it galled Emilia how Ben treated the Trewins as if he was their commanding officer.
When Alec had witnessed the brothers’ worth as labourers, he had made amends for his previous contempt by furnishing the cottage with good items from his attics, and also adding to the clothes Florence Burrows had brought them from Red Cross donations. All this kept Emilia’s mind off her double grief, of losing both Billy and her respect for Ben.
In Albie’s midget-sized bedroom, she laid out his meagre possessions, a creased photograph of his stick-thin mother, a grubby comb and a tattered comic book. On a nail protruding from a beam of the low, sloping ceiling, she put up a colourful picture of the farm, which Jonathan had drawn for him. She would have added something of Billy’s, but she couldn’t bear to part with any of his things.
Tonight, Albie would sleep here and Cyril in the next room, and Archie would return to the hay house. He had adamantly refused to share it with them, saying he would move on if he couldn’t be alone. Not wanting to lose him, Alec had offered him the washhouse floor, and he had risen each morning with his things stowed away before anyone wanted use of it. Emilia had waited anxiously for antagonism to spring up between the workers, but Cyril Trewin’s comment on Archie’s desire for isolation had been: ‘War does strange things to a bloke. If he wants to be alone, who am I to criticize?’ Relations between Ben and Alec had remained frosty, but in her grief, Emilia had given it little care.
The stairs descended into the narrow living room and she pattered down to build up the fire she’d lit on her arrival. Ben was there, his head touching the rough black beams. Her body froze and her heart exploded with a multiplicity of emotions.
Ben surveyed the straight set of her mouth, her fiery eyes and taut posture. ‘I’ve had enough of you avoiding me, so I’ve come here to talk, to find out if we still have a future together. Where Alec can’t interfere, or put words into your mouth, and assume you need prote
cting from me.’
‘I’ve needed time to myself, Ben.’ She saw his hurt, some of it justified, but she couldn’t get it out of her mind how he had deserted her. She headed towards the fire to build it up, but he blocked the way.
‘Two whole weeks?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘Please, Ben, I’m not in the mood for this.’ She dropped her eyes to the split logs she intended to pile on the dying blaze.
‘Too bad, because neither of us are leaving until we’ve talked openly and sensibly.’
She took in his dark, brooding stare. ‘All right, go ahead.’
‘We might as well sit.’ He jerked his head at his brother’s contribution of seats – a rocker bearing a flat cushion and two padded chairs.
‘No. I don’t want to. I have to keep busy.’ She was frowning, edging towards the kitchen, endeavouring to fill her thoughts with mundane things. If she opened her heart to Ben she would have to face again that Billy was dead and lying somewhere in a foreign land, perhaps not decently buried. And she might say something terrible to Ben, for there were times she wanted to lash out at him over his thoughtlessness. She had never felt vengeful or out of control of her feelings before and it frightened her.
He placed himself in her path, using his hands to emphasize his next words. ‘Have you no kind word for me any more, Em? How long are you going to act like this?’
‘Ben, I…’ She gave a tremendous sigh, tears stinging her eyes. ‘I can’t think past that day, when my parents arrived… I’m sorry.’
‘Let me have my say then. Will you listen?’
She looked into his eyes, the one dark and beautiful, the other marred with a permanent milky spot, both full of sorrow. She couldn’t deny him. Nodding grimly, she sank down on the nearest of the padded chairs, leaning forward with her arms pressed against her body.
Ben moved the chair’s twin to where he could face her, close up. ‘You think me selfish and heartless for staying out all night when it was confirmed I was blinded, and then for running out on you when Edwin came with the news about Billy, don’t you? I accept that I deserve your contempt, and that all I’ve lost means little in comparison to Billy being dead. Oh, God, Em, how can I make you understand? You’re usually so sensitive to what’s on my mind. When I saw Edwin and Dolly hobbling towards you, with the spirit wiped out of them, and I saw your reaction, I felt all of your grief. I swear I did. But I couldn’t stand the shame of being only half a man while Billy had fought and died for his country, for my freedom.
‘I came back to you almost at once, but Alec insisted I allow you and your parents time to be alone. Hasn’t he explained this to you? Let me make it up to you, Em. I’m trying to be a man. You think I should be more like Alec, don’t you? Alec, who stays with everyone – even Lucy at the end, even though she cursed him to her last breath.’
Emilia watched in a strange fascination, as if from a distance, as huge, sorrowful, silent tears glistened down his face and dripped off his chin. Everything seemed unreal or larger than usual or to be working in slow motion. She knew this was the numbness of bereavement and that she was clinging to it, afraid to feel its next instalments, of anger or an anguish she couldn’t bear. ‘I’ve wanted to speak to you, Ben, but you and I, us… it hasn’t seemed important.’ She knew her words were hurting him, this man she loved, but, God forgive her, she was afraid to care, about him or anyone or anything else until she was ready to.
Ben closed his eyes for a moment, hoping to see her awful expression had tempered when he looked at her again. He was disappointed. ‘That was a horrible thing to say, Em. Look, I’m trying to understand you. I thought you might have talked to me after Tristan’s letter about Billy’s death. I acknowledge that I’ve acted weaker than I’d ever thought possible, but I swear to you, if I’d been with Billy and I’d seen the bullet coming that had killed him I would have sacrificed my life for his. I’ve said this to Edwin – I think he’s forgiven me.’ He waited expectantly for her to respond, willing her to become his dear, reliable Em again.
‘Dad’s always said that a man who can cry real tears and admit he’s afraid or weak shows true strength and courage.’ Emilia was aware of the pain of keeping her arms clenched so tightly. She gazed at them and untwisted them, but it was as if they were not hers.
‘And?’ Ben grasped her hands before she could entwine them again. He couldn’t bear her remoteness or the dreadful dignity she was maintaining – she had cried every day in the last fortnight but always in private.
‘I still love you, Ben, if that’s what you’re hoping to hear.’ She raised her chin and it brought her face a breath away from his.
‘Of course it is,’ he said impatiently. ‘We’ve made love. It’s important to me that you did it with me out of love. So, do you forgive me? Admire me again? Think me shallow? All kinds of a bastard? What? For heaven’s sake, Em, I have to know. Please don’t be cruel. It’s been a bloody terrible time for me too.’
Emilia looked at him for a long time. ‘Tell me this, Ben. Were you put out that day because Billy’s dying stole your limelight?’
He dropped her hands, gulping as if her question had been a physical blow. ‘What? How can you think such a thing?’
‘Because I know you. You’ve got a hard question for me too, haven’t you?’
‘Very well, if you don’t want to make this easy, there’s something I need to know. Did you want my eye to be blinded?’
She moved until her back was against the chair. ‘That’s a childish idea. What put that into your head?’
‘Childish?’ He sited a denigrating edge in her voice. ‘Not what, Em, who! Mr Preston, the consultant. He said the appropriate attention would have saved my sight.’
‘You think I did something to deliberately hurt you? I suppose I can see how you might think like that; it’s the usual reaction to blame someone else when something devastating’s happened. The answer is no, Ben. I’d never do anything to hurt you and not once did it occur to me to do something that would stop you joining the war. I know how much a military career meant to you. Do you believe me?’
‘Oh yes, I believe you.’ Flinging aside the chair, he stormed towards the front door. ‘Your honesty was only one of the things I used to admire about you, but I can’t accept its brutality right now. So you think me superficial and begrudging? Well, here’s my honesty for you. I didn’t receive the news of Billy’s death as it being his moment of glory – that happened the instant he signed up to fight. I was filled with an aching sorrow at losing one of my closest friends, and an acute loss that I’d never see him again. Your estimation of me, Emilia, couldn’t have hurt me more than if you’d thrown me a white feather.’
He was lifting the wobbly iron latch and she shot to her feet. ‘Ben, don’t go. I shouldn’t have said that about you and Billy. I’ve never lost anyone as close before and I’ve been feeling hurt and I wanted to hurt you back. And about you being childish. I’m sorry, it was me who’s been childish.’
He came back to her. ‘Swear to me that the thought didn’t pass through your mind even for a second.’
The blood drained from her face. She grabbed his arms. ‘I can’t, but I haven’t been thinking straight.’
He put his hands on her shoulders and she felt his grip tighten. ‘Strange, isn’t it? We never hurt each other once as children but suddenly we’re childish and being hurtful.’
‘We’re going through bad times, Ben. The worst in our lives.’
‘And it isn’t going to get any easier for me because my sight will never come back. Billy’s dead but his memory is always going to be revered, and one day in the future your memories of him will lose their terrible sadness. I’m supposed to be the man you loved, yet not once in two weeks have you allowed me to offer you a grain of comfort. But you’ve let Alec ply you with tender words and understanding. It was his arm you took at Billy’s memorial service – you walked down the aisle in the church in front of the whole villa
ge, shunning me. You understood him quickly enough when he admitted he was wrong about the Trewins, the men he’d chosen to leave rotting on the bloody damned streets!’
Emilia knew that if she wasn’t feeling so dead inside she would acknowledge that his rising anger was justified, but she merely stared at him and didn’t interrupt.
‘You’ve refused a dinner invitation of Julian’s because you said you didn’t feel like socializing, yet you’ve agreed to consider an offer from Alec to take you, Grandma and Jonathan to visit our cousin Winifred, because he says the sea air will do you good! You’ve quickly got fed up with the boy Harvey, but you like and respect the man Harvey, don’t you, Emilia? Well, you just be careful of what kind of good my brother’s planning for you. He’s had a mistress in Truro for years, a woman called Bawden. Why do you think the last maid left the farm so suddenly? It was because Alec couldn’t keep his hands off her. Lucy found out and threatened to write to the girl’s parents. You think Alec’s the sun and the moon, don’t you? But he can’t even read. He’s just as useless and human as the rest of us.’
‘I know Alec can’t read or write properly,’ Emilia said coldly. ‘He’s told me.’
‘He’s told you his great secret? Why? Just how close are you to him? Is he bedding you already? Is that why you don’t want me any more? Is it, is it?’ Ben pushed her back against the banisters of the stairs.
‘Alec’s never tried to get me into bed, and if it’s true what you’ve said about him, I don’t care. I’m not in the least bit interested in him! I only care about Billy. You’re selfish and double-faced, Ben Harvey. You can’t say you love me if all that you want is to make me see things your way. Why do you feel the need to belittle your own brother, who cares for you so deeply? You’re right about one thing, Ben. You are a boy. A vindictive little boy. Even Jonny wouldn’t behave like this.’
He let her go. Stood back and studied her as if she was something nauseating. Emilia put her hands to the painful places where he had squeezed her. She said nothing. Only returned his thunderous stare.
