Touch the Silence

by Gloria Cook

  ‘What are you doing, Mrs Harvey?’ Emilia said politely, though not with friendliness, towards Ursula. ‘You should be resting.’

  ‘I wanted… I’m sorry, I’ll go back up.’

  Emilia noted the same lost misery of Tristan’s and Archie’s. She guessed the other woman was lonely, but no one here wanted her company. ‘Can I fetch you something?’

  ‘Well, I thought—’ Ursula eyes shone in a sort of desperation – ‘perhaps I could be doing something useful. It’s not fair that you or the servants should have to wait on me, you’ve all got enough to do. I could sit and sew.’

  So that was it, she was trying to act like a good wife. ‘I’ll bring some mending up to you.’

  Ursula couldn’t stand the reproach in Emilia’s face. ‘Emilia, you have to believe me,’ she cried. ‘It was the worst day of my life when I had to leave Jonny behind, and I’m sorry for what I’ve done to Tristan. I’m trying to put things right and it means I’m having to give this baby away!’

  Ursula collapsed sobbing, clinging to the banisters. Emilia rushed up to her. ‘Let me help you back up. You’d better lie down.’

  ‘No, please.’ Ursula leaned against her, seeking comfort. ‘I don’t need any more rest. I want to go outside. I want to see Jonny’s snowman.’

  It was such a plaintive, childlike plea that Emilia felt the stirrings of sympathy for her. ‘Come down to the sitting room. When you’re calm I’ll take you outside for a little while.’ Ursula searched her sleeves until she found a hanky. ‘Would you? It sounds silly but I’ve always loved snow. For a moment, while watching Jonny finishing his snowman, I felt like a girl again, then I remembered what a mess I’ve made of my life, and Tristan’s, and I thought I’d go mad.’

  In the sitting room, Emilia watched Ursula until she was satisfied there was to be no fainting or early labour. ‘You must have had a hard time travelling all the way back here alone.’

  ‘Yes, but no more than I deserved. The whole experience proved to me how fortunate I had been with my life, and how stupid I was to throw it all away, and for what? A handsome face, a smooth talker. I actually believed Bruce Ashley was in love with me. He’d promised he’d had a job and a house ready for us to go to in Bristol. It was all lies, of course. He took me to places frequented by shady types. I was to learn that they close ranks and only look after their own. He only knows how to live on his wits, by lying and cheating, it’s not surprising he’s always moving on.

  ‘I’ve told my share of lies too, of course, but actually it wasn’t Bruce who hit me, he was always gentle. I was desperate and thought Tristan was more likely to take me back if he thought Bruce was responsible for my bruises. The landlord of our last lodgings discovered we were about to slip off without paying the rent. Bruce ran off. I couldn’t get away and the brute beat me. He took the last of my jewellery – otherwise I don’t know what would have happened. I’d hoped Tristan would let me explain all this to him; now he’s finally agreed that we’ll talk.’

  ‘It sounded just now that you want to keep your baby. Are you hoping Tristan will agree to become its father?’

  ‘There’s no chance of that. I’ll just have to accept it. Could we go outside now, please? I’ve been cooped up hiding from people for so long I’m beginning to feel I’ll suffocate.’

  In coats, hats and boots, the two women gazed at the snowman, innocently built and appealing. Its dimensions were small, for not a lot of snow had fallen, its adornments an old scarf, stones for buttons, twigs for a face.

  Emilia glanced at Ursula, she seemed less tense. ‘I’ll let you have a few minutes alone. Promise you’ll soon go back in by the fire?’

  ‘I promise.’ Ursula gave a soft sigh. ‘Thank you, Emilia, for being so understanding.’

  Ursula took a turn round the garden, enjoying the feel of the snow under her boots. The snow was already thawing. If only her problems could melt away as quickly. She heard a noise. It was so odd and unexpected she paused to listen. It came again, like a hiss, behind the tall privet hedge, where the garden shed was. She smiled. Jonny was playing a game with her. He enjoyed hide and seek.

  She crept round there. Gasped in disbelief and horror. From round the side of the shed a man appeared. He was dressed in clothes fitting for a labourer, but she had instantly recognized Bruce Ashley. She spun round, skidded on the slippery path and nearly fell. Her lover clamped his hands on her. ‘Don’t go, old girl. We need to talk.’

  Ursula fought him off, but she couldn’t get away. He faced her. ‘Keep away from me. How dare you come here. If you’re seen, you’ll ruin everything for me.’

  ‘Look, Ursula, darling. I know I was a swine to run out on you like that but I thought you were right behind me. I’ve had to keep my head down for ages, but I’d guess you’d come back here, be safe. I couldn’t write to you, the Harveys would have been on to me. You’ve got to believe me when I say I really do love you.’

  ‘How can you expect me to believe anything you say? I want you to leave, Bruce. I never want to see you again.’

  ‘I knew you’d need proof of my feelings. Look at this.’ He pulled something out of his coarse coat. ‘It took me a while to get the money together but I’ve bought your necklace back. Sorry about the rest, Sidney Matlock had already sold it. I know I was a coward, but I’ve plucked up the courage and paid off the rent. Sidney was impressed. He’s says we can go back anytime. He’ll give me work. We’ll soon have that house I’d promised you, we can always be together, Ursula, just like we wanted.’

  ‘You’re just a dreamer, Bruce. Sidney Matlock could only give you something dishonest to do. Go away, take that wretched necklace with you. Leave me to try to salvage my life.’

  She made to walk round him but he held on to her again. ‘I’m not a dreamer any more. I promise I’ve changed. I’ve finally fallen in love, properly, for keeps. You’re having my baby, Ursula. I want you both.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Ursula groaned in misery. She had made the mistake of looking into his beautiful face, of allowing her love and passion for him to sweep through her once more. There had always been something more than reckless charm about Brace. He was good-humoured, generous, fun, clever rather than cunning. And here he was, giving her a terrible choice. She could have a future with him, a man who was irresponsible and weak, and their baby. Or she could opt for an uncertain future with her husband who might never forgive her, but she would have Jonny.

  ‘Listen, darling, I’ve got it all worked out. We’ll take your boy with us this time. Nothing will make me leave him behind. Above all things I want you to be happy. Think about it.’ He pressed a piece of paper into her hand. ‘Write to this address. It’s where I’m staying. I’ll be doing nothing until I hear from you. I love you.’ He kissed her lips and was gone.

  For long moments Ursula stared at the paper in her hand. Brace had not had to come here. He could be working his charm on other women, women with money, position, with no complications. He had said he loved her. She believed he truly did.

  There was too much at risk. She must rip the address he had given her into shreds. But she could not bring herself to do it yet and slipped it inside her glove.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Hennaford was holding an auction for the war effort, and Emilia found herself, as wife of the principal landowner, plunged into a major role of the proceedings.

  She was in the Wesleyan hall, which was attached to the chapel, situated at the bottom of a lazily sloping hill. With Florence Burrows and Elena Rawley, the Methodist minister’s daughter, and Harriet Frayne, the schoolmaster’s wife, she was supervising the laying out of the trestle tables and teacups, and the spreading out of Union flags.

  Florence had almost put her nose into the boxes to see what Ford Farm had contributed; it was a generous supply of produce, half a dozen bottles of wine – French, since the formerly favoured German wines were now shunned, and some crocheted work of Tilda’s.

  There was a steady coming and going as the
villagers brought in anything from a child’s poem to a prized collection of disciple spoons, all to be brought under a hammer wielded by Alec. The pub was in frowning distance of the chapel, and the landlady of the Ploughshare arrived with a box of knick-knacks and a treadle sewing machine, carried in by one of her elderly patrons and Jim, whom Emilia had brought with her to help.

  Florence viewed the newcomer as she would an insect that should be stepped on. ‘That woman should close her establishment for the evening.’

  ‘She is.’ Emilia shook out a large white tablecloth with noisy gusto. Ruby Brokenshaw had only just received word that her husband was ‘missing presumed dead’, a victim of the sunk hospital ship Glenart Castle in the Bristol Channel. A particularly tragic blow for Ruby, who had nearly got him back, and it angered Emilia to hear her spoken of with disrespect.

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘When I was approached by Miss Rawley to help with the occasion, I went round the whole village to encourage people to get involved in ways not thought of before. Mrs Brokenshaw told me then.’

  ‘Oh? I’d have thought she would have come to me, as usual.’ Florence showed her hurt and jealousy by giving Elena Rawley an ‘Emilia’s going to ruin everything, and it’s all your fault’ look. ‘I hope you haven’t come up with anything undignified, Emilia.’

  ‘Why should I?’ Emilia reached to pin up a list of the men and women from Hennaford lost or serving in the war. Billy’s name was there, and Albert Brokenshaw’s would soon be added by Elena Rawley’s artistic pen.

  ‘Oh, my dear Emilia—’ Harriet Frayne hurried to her, edging her aside from the task – ‘you mustn’t stretch like that in your condition.’ Mrs Frayne, rosy-cheeked and rosy-hearted, dropped her voice. ‘You risk hurting yourself and causing the cord to twist around the baby’s neck.’

  Both amused and frustrated by the frequency of this sort of remark, Emilia was about to gently mock the warning given her by the woman who had once warmed her schoolday pasties, then she noticed the horror on Florence’s face of ‘her condition’ being mentioned in front of a young unmarried woman and a boy. Florence disapproved of Jim’s every manner and circumstance, and Jim, who showed an untimely interest in the fairer sex, was presently ogling Miss Rawley. ‘Thank you for your advice, Mrs Frayne. Jim, come here, you’re more able to put this up at a good height.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Em.’ His voice had been described as an insolent drawl by Florence.

  ‘Stop it,’ Emilia said, while she transferred the tacks into his meaty open palm.

  ‘What?’ He smiled a warm, indolent smile.

  ‘Keep your mind only on why we’re here, and what was all that whispering to old Mr Quick about?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Don’t think for a minute you’re slipping away to try to charm a drink out of Mrs Brokenshaw.’

  Jim gazed back with feigned hurt innocence, then gave the broadest grin. In between pushing in the tacks he kept glancing at Elena Rawley. Emilia was thankful that Elena, who, in Florence’s opinion, was ‘exactly what one expects her to be’, was oblivious to his admiration. Not yet twenty, not tall or elegant, not pretty, but demurely appealing, she dutifully kept house for her widowed father. Emilia thought it would be good to invite her to the farm for afternoon tea. If she could get Honor to come, it would make a pleasant occasion. She was still waiting for Honor’s promised visit.

  ‘Mrs Harvey has come up with a wonderful idea, Mrs Burrows.’ Elena’s voice was clear and uninvasive. She was tying a numbered piece of card to each item to be auctioned from Ruby Brokenshaw’s box. ‘She’s suggested people might like to auction their talents.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Florence squinted to see if Jim had pinned the roll call up straight.

  ‘Like my sister singing,’ Jim chipped in, amused at his rudeness. ‘It’s what gave Mrs Em the idea. If someone pays a shilling say, then Sara’ll get up on the platform and sing a song.’

  ‘Or someone could make an offer to do some gardening or something like that,’ Elena said.

  Before Florence could comment, Jim said, ‘What about you, Miss Elena? What can you do?’ He was there beside her, passing her a small brass Toby jug.

  ‘Hasn’t that boy got something more useful to do?’ Florence cried.

  Emilia smiled to herself.

  * * *

  Clinging to the top of a hedge in Back Lane, Emilia studied the piles of stone and timber being used for the renovations and extensions of Tremore House, then the house itself. The chimneys were currently being rebuilt and a pole-thin boy, thankfully well below the damnable age of conscription, was mounting a ladder. It appeared that the house was to retain its solid, square look. But, ‘something’s modem going on inside it’ was Hennaford’s general, unsure opinion.

  ‘Have you brought Grandma with you?’

  Startled by the sudden voice, she turned too quickly and lost her footing. Ben caught her, settled her balance, then let her go. Emilia straightened her ruffled hat. ‘Of all the stupid things to do!’

  ‘Don’t you know it’s unwise to be climbing about in your condition?’

  ‘I was just taking a look. It’s going to be a fine house.’

  ‘I don’t need your approval.’

  He was staring at her middle. She was beginning to show, and Emilia could see he didn’t approve of that either. ‘A fine house for Honor is what I meant. No, I haven’t brought your grandmother today. I’ve come from the Wesleyan hall – the auction. Florence Burrows is taking tea with Mrs Frayne, and I thought I’d call on Honor without her aunt’s presence to stop us enjoying ourselves. Excuse me.’ She sprung off along the lane.

  Ben walked at her side. He was in his work clothes, should have been busy with a hundred other tasks, but every day he couldn’t resist taking a studied look at the progress on his house. ‘Is Grandma well?’

  ‘She’s fighting fit.’

  ‘As you always are, Emilia.’

  ‘As you would have been to fight the Germans, eh, Ben, if I hadn’t deliberately blinded you? Is that what the sour look on your face means?’

  He shook his head. ‘I never realized how much of a bitch you could be.’

  ‘Nor I how unforgiving you can be.’

  ‘Isn’t that Alec’s forte?’

  ‘Alec’s got nothing to do with this. I’m not to blame for what happened to your eye. It’s time you accepted it.’

  ‘Did you always want Alec? The farm?’

  ‘Ben, I wanted you, but now I’m glad I married Alec and I’m looking forward to bearing his child.’ She stopped directly in front of him. ‘Look, Ben, for Honor’s sake, I’d like to clear things up between us. I shouldn’t have been so cold towards you after Billy died. I was going to tell you this after our quarrel in Wayside Cot, about how much I regretted it, but then your gran broke the window and you were furious with me, cruel to me, and things got even worse. I am truly sorry about your eye, whether you believe me or not.’

  He took his time weighing up her words. ‘You were hoping for us to go on being engaged?’

  ‘Yes, at the time. Can we not be friends now, Ben? Leave all that’s happened in the past?’

  He saw the perfect colour in her face, her passion, her energy. She would give Alec fine, healthy babies. A perfect helpmate for a farmer. He despised her then, over her deliberate cold-heartedness that had made him act in ways that had led to him losing her. ‘You didn’t grieve over me for long. You went straight into Alec’s bed.’

  Her compassion turned into scorn. ‘I can see I’m wasting my time. If you’re going on to the farm, please be good enough to tell Honor that I’ll not stop now but I’ll seek her company this evening.’

  ‘I’ve got work to do!’ He strode off, scaling a field gate in one foolhardy leap.

  Emilia watched his tall, athletic form. There was nothing defeated about him now. She marvelled at how easily they had come to detest each other.

  A sharp pain in her stomach caught her unaware
s. Followed by another. It was as if her insides were being squeezed. ‘Ben! Ben!’

  She had her arms wrapped around her middle when she heard his voice. ‘Em! What is it?’ His hands were supporting her.

  ‘I don’t know. Ow! Oh, help me, Ben. It’s my baby.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘Alec, I was on my way to the bathroom.’

  ‘There’s a commode in the bedroom for that. Come along.’ He carried her the rest of the way, saw to what was necessary with tenderness, then tucked her, sitting up, in the bed. He held her gently.

  ‘It was just a fright, darling. The district nurse says I can get up again tomorrow.’ She nestled against his warmth and his strength, needing his care, his closeness. ‘But I admit I’ve never been so frightened in my life. I love our baby so much already – something tells me it’s a boy. Sometimes I hear his voice, sometimes I see him about the house and yard, like a ghost of the future. I’ll keep him safe for you, Alec, I promise.’

  ‘I know, darling. The baby means everything to me too, but I’m even more concerned about you. You’re so much a part of my life now, nothing would make sense without you.’

  ‘I feel the same about you.’ She kissed his hand, kissed it until she hoped she had left an everlasting impression on it. Ben had asked her earlier if she had always wanted Alec. Perhaps she had.

  ‘Ben was good to me.’ He had carried her into his sitting room. While he had run to the dairy to fetch Eliza, Honor had held her hand, asking if there was any more pain. There wasn’t, or any loss of blood, and Eliza had judged she should be taken home to bed. ‘’Tisn’t uncommon for a woman to have a pain or two anywhere along a pregnancy,’ the Amazon of a woman had deliberated. ‘Or ’twas just the baby pressing on a nerve. Fittest pregnant woman I’ve ever seen, anyhow.’

  Honor had accompanied her home on the Tremore jingle and helped her into her nightdress, and sat with her while Alec had been fetched from the fields and her mother sent for. ‘Knowing you, Em, you’re probably overdoing it. You haven’t been lugging bales of hay about, I hope.’