The Soldier's Return

by Rose Meddon

  ‘Calm him down? Why should that even fall to me? I’m his wife. I’m not the one who put him in this… in this state… and then… and then just… just sent him home.’

  ‘I know that, Min. We all do. Nevertheless, I still say speak to Nurse Hammond. I’m sure she will know what can be done – in the longer term, I mean.’

  ‘In the longer term? But what about now?’ Naomi wanted to know.

  Pained to see her looking so lost, Kate got to her feet and went towards her.

  ‘Now?’ Ned replied.

  ‘Yes. Now. Tonight. What am I supposed to do with him right this very minute?’

  Exhaling a long breath, Ned shook his head. ‘Well—’

  ‘I certainly don’t want him anywhere near Esme.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Ned said, looking up at his sister, ‘which would he be most likely to reach for to steady his nerves – whisky or brandy?’

  Still holding tightly to Esme, Naomi looked pale and lost, the gesture she gave one of despair. ‘He’s not much of a one for either. Of the two, brandy, I suppose.’

  ‘Then I’ll get Rowley to help me ply him with some. It’s not the right answer, I realize that but perhaps, if we can get him drowsy enough, he’ll fall asleep.’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘That does sound sensible,’ Kate said. Her aim being to ensure that Naomi didn’t ignore what seemed to be practical advice. ‘And then, in the morning, we can talk to Nurse Hammond and see what light she can shed upon Mr Lawrence’s… condition – see what she recommends we do to help him.’

  ‘I suppose we have little choice,’ Naomi conceded. ‘In the absence of any other ideas, I suppose it has to be better than doing nothing.’

  When Naomi then departed to take Esme upstairs, Kate was left to stand and look about. What did she do? Did she go with her – try to offer some words of comfort? Huh. What comfort could she offer? Of what help could she be? Besides, after what had just happened, it would surely be better for Naomi and Mr Lawrence to be left alone to talk. There would be apologies to be made, and explanations to be given. And, no doubt, tears to be shed, too. No, if she could be of any use, it would be in the morning, once Mr Lawrence had explained himself, and Naomi better understood what was going on. And so, although it was still early, and since, on this occasion, she could be of no real use, she would retire for the night.

  * * *

  Arriving in her room, she sat on the side of her bed, forlorn, her mind picturing Naomi’s puzzlement as Mr Lawrence had questioned her about Esme. She couldn’t believe he had forgotten that they had adopted her – even allowing for the fact that he had been away at war. That first time he had come home to discover that Naomi had taken the little girl in, his reaction had been one of amusement; it wasn’t even stretching the truth to say that he had been tickled pink, spending much of his leave doting on her. Once he had returned to the front, Naomi had even remarked that she couldn’t have hoped for a better reaction from him. She also knew that Naomi wrote diligently, relaying to him news of the child’s progress and antics, and that, on her birthday and at Christmas, she sent him photographs of her. So, what on earth had gone wrong? Ned had said that Mr Lawrence’s outburst stemmed from his nerves being frayed, but Mr Lawrence had always been such a solid and composed man – certainly never one for jumpiness or disquiet. Indeed, he had the very backbone – the very sense of correctness and duty – that his brother had so completely lacked, all of which just made the whole business so very much sadder.

  With a defeated shake of her head, she sighed. She couldn’t bear to think of there being something properly wrong with Mr Lawrence. Nor could she bear having to speculate about what might have brought on such a severe and pronounced change to him. But, as she had reminded herself earlier, it wasn’t her place to pry. If, when Naomi and Lawrence had spent some time together, Naomi chose to share with her what her husband confided, that would be down to her. If she decided not to tell her, well, then she would have to hope to find out from Ned. And if he didn’t know anything, then perhaps there was nothing to know. Perhaps it really was just Mr Lawrence’s exhaustion making him so fractious and forgetful.

  Once washed and undressed and in her nightgown, she knelt at the side of her bed and tried to apply her mind to saying her prayers, asking, as usual, that God look after all of the people most dear to her. Then, switching out the lamp on her night table, she climbed into bed. With any luck, it would turn out that all Mr Lawrence really needed was just a good night’s sleep. Indeed, perhaps tomorrow, after a nice rest, he would be back to his former self. Although happen it would be wise to add one last request to her prayers and ask the dear Lord to see to it – just in case.

  * * *

  ‘How is Mr Lawrence this morning?’

  Wandering into the drawing room before breakfast the following morning, Kate came across Naomi staring out of the window. Since waking, she’d been hoping that her prayers had been answered and that Mr Lawrence would be feeling better.

  Catching hold of her arm, Naomi drew her to the far corner of the room. ‘I tell you, Kate, he’s definitely not well.’

  ‘No?’ Oh dear. Precisely what she’d been hoping not to hear.

  ‘Far from it.’

  ‘Naomi,’ she said, looking quickly about, ‘last night, I felt it wasn’t my place to… well, to involve myself in your business. But please know that you can tell me. Whatever it is, you can tell me and I will help you, no matter what.’

  Naomi exhaled heavily. To Kate’s mind, she still seemed reluctant to say much.

  ‘Well, last night,’ Naomi eventually began again, ‘after all the to-do, and despite having several inside him, once Lawrence came to bed, all he did was toss and turn and mutter – mutter things that made no sense, made no sense to me, that is. Then, after a while like that he seemed to settle. He became quieter and still. At one point, I even thought that he had fallen asleep… and thought that I might, too. But then, with no warning whatsoever, he railed into the darkness that it was too quiet. With that, the tossing and turning started up again. And then he got up and started pacing about the room. Despite me asking, several times, what was wrong, he ignored me. Or didn’t hear me. Either way, it was as though I wasn’t there. At that point, I even wondered whether he was sleep-walking.’

  Realizing that she had been holding her breath, Kate exhaled. Alone in the dark with such behaviour, Naomi must have been beside herself with worry. ‘And then what happened?’

  ‘Shortly after that, he left the room. At first, I thought he had probably just gone to use the lavatory. But when, after a while, he didn’t come back, I got out of bed to look for him. There was no sign of him along the corridor, so I went to the window… and there he was, down on the lawn, just standing there, not moving.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I didn’t know what to do – to leave him to his own devices or go and fetch him. In the end, fearing he might stray to the cliff edge, I went down to him. And, do you know, he came like a lamb. “I’m so terribly cold,” was all he said.’

  Unexpectedly, Kate shivered. ‘And then did he sleep?’

  ‘He did. And I think that for a while, I did, too, because the next thing I knew it was daylight, and Mrs Bratton was at the door with our tray. Besides tea and the Telegraph, she’d brought the first post, including a letter addressed to Lawrence.’

  ‘At least you managed some sleep, both of you,’ Kate observed. ‘And did he seem better – when he awoke?’

  Naomi shook her head. ‘Only for the briefest of moments, really just while he worked out where he was. After that, he started complaining about everything – the brightness of the light coming in through the window, the slipperiness of the eiderdown, that the pages of the newspaper were making too much noise – whereupon he demanded I see to it that they “stopped rustling so much”.’ Noticing tears in Naomi’s eyes, Kate reached for her hand and clasped it between her own. ‘And then, when he saw the letter and read it, well… it was
like a red rag to a bull – he simply blew up. He leapt out of bed, threw it to the floor and stormed from the room.’

  Although alarmed by this turn of events, Kate continued to hold Naomi’s hand and nod encouragement. There was more to be learned, she was sure of it. ‘I see,’ she said softly. ‘And then what?’

  ‘Once he’d gone, I picked up the letter and read it.’

  ‘You did? But wasn’t that taking a chance?’

  ‘Very possibly.’

  ‘I mean, what if he’d come back and caught you with it?’

  ‘At the time I thought only that it might be my one opportunity to discover what’s been going on – what’s making him like this. Besides, he didn’t seem to care that he’d left it behind. To be honest, he was so cross, I’m not sure he knew what he was doing. I’ve never seen him so enraged. It was as frightening to witness as his outburst last night. Truly, Kate, his behaviour has me on tenterhooks. I’m nothing but a bag of nerves.’

  ‘So, this letter,’ Kate said, her concern being to piece things together. ‘Does it, as he suggested it would, say how long he is on leave – when he must return to the front?’

  Beside her, Naomi pressed her lips together. ‘No,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper. ‘To the contrary. It states that he has been placed on a period of medical leave, the duration of which – and I quote – “is to be determined following consultation with a regimental doctor, to take place at a date and location to be advised.”’

  ‘Medical leave?’ She glanced at Naomi’s expression for further clues. ‘So… he’s been injured then… or fallen sick?’

  Lowering her head, Naomi seemed to be considering how best to reply. And, when she did, it was with her voice reduced further still. ‘The letter makes no mention of either. In that regard, I’m none the wiser. And I don’t feel inclined to ask him, either. Oh, Kate, what has it come to when I can’t even ask my own husband what’s troubling him for fear of how he might react? What has the army done to him? And how dare they? How dare they do this to my husband?’

  Reflecting upon what Naomi had just told her, Kate had no idea how to answer that. It wasn’t that Naomi’s questions were unreasonable, just that she hadn’t the least inkling of what to suggest. Mr Lawrence had always been one of the most easy-going men she knew. He liked things done in a certain way, yes, but only because he upheld standards. But he’d never been a difficult man. And he’d certainly never been an angry one.

  ‘And how is he now?’ she asked, the thought of Mr Lawrence rampaging about the house a worrying one; for a start, there was Esme and her safety to consider.

  ‘That’s the thing. When I came downstairs, I found him sitting in the morning room, dressed and reading the Telegraph as though everything was perfectly normal – as though nothing had happened.’

  ‘And this letter that came – did it say anything else? Anything that might help us decide what to do?’

  ‘The only other thing it said was that he is not to return to duty until passed as fit to do so by the medical board. Oh, Kate, I’m beside myself. I’ve even found myself biting my nails. And I haven’t done that since I was at school.’

  Still Kate couldn’t think how to be of help. ‘And for his part, he’s offered you no explanation at all?’

  Naomi gave a forlorn shake of her head. ‘None whatsoever. Not a word about any of it. In a way, that’s the part in all of this that worries me the most. I can’t decide whether he already knew he was on medical leave and was deliberately keeping the fact from me, or whether he genuinely didn’t realize it. I prefer to think it the latter, and that, perhaps, with what happened to Lu— Well, no, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t be burdening you with all of this anyway.’

  ‘You think Luke’s death might have set this off?’ Kate said, guessing at what Naomi had been going to say.

  ‘It has gone through my mind.’

  In a way, Kate reflected, letting go of Naomi’s hand, it did make sense. Luke’s death, while perhaps not solely to blame for Mr Lawrence’s state of mind, might have been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

  ‘So, what are you going to do?’ she asked.

  In response to her question, Naomi exhaled heavily. ‘I have no idea. I suppose all I can do is as Ned suggested last night – talk to Nurse Hammond.’

  Relieved that Naomi should think it a good idea, Kate nodded. ‘All right. Then straight after breakfast we’ll go and see what she has to say.’

  * * *

  ‘Utter poppycock!’

  Seated at the table in the morning room less than ten minutes later, Kate glanced warily in the direction of Mr Lawrence to see him staring down at his newspaper, his expression, thus far unremarkable, suddenly thunderous.

  Across from him, Naomi looked up from her plate. When she spoke, her voice trembled. ‘What’s that, dear?’

  ‘You people know nothing of this war. Nothing whatsoever. How could a man, who has done nothing but sit at a desk in Fleet Street, wielding nothing more than an ink pen, profess to know even one-tenth of what is going on over there? Blind, that’s what you all are. And precisely how this government likes it.’

  ‘Darling—’

  ‘And you – you women,’ Lawrence pressed on, glancing about. ‘Your sex are the worst, with your cooing and your sympathy and your – your platitudes. You couldn’t possibly understand, not any single one of you. Not even that flying-boy brother of yours. None of you know – will ever know the sheer hell of it – the suffering. Can’t possibly.’

  As suddenly as he had started, Lawrence fell quiet, his attention given back to his newspaper. Afraid to make the least sound, Kate sat, motionless, wondering what to do for the best. Mr Lawrence’s moods seemed beyond anyone to predict, it being impossible to know, from one moment to the next, how he would react to anything. When she had come in and taken her place at the table, although noticing that he was clearly still tired and strained, his manner had seemed lucid and straightforward. Within moments, though, he had started to ramble nonsensically, muttering about the army having set loose mad dogs. And she could see how his behaviour was affecting Naomi: she was sitting there now, jittery and pale-looking.

  ‘What?’ Lawrence chose that moment to look up and demand. No one answered. Instead, they exchanged glances that betrayed their bafflement. ‘Dear God, tell me I can’t hear that mewling child again?’

  Naomi shot a glance towards the door. Before coming into breakfast, she had taken up Kate’s suggestion that they take Esme into the study, telling her that, as a special treat for being a good girl, this morning she was to have her breakfast with her Uncle Ned. Even so, it only needed Ned to have become distracted for a few seconds for the child to have spotted her chance to slip from the room.

  The hallway, though, appeared silent and, looking across at Naomi, Kate indicated her puzzlement at Lawrence’s question with the slightest of shrugs: there had been no sound from anywhere. In fact, only moments earlier, she had been thinking how excruciating the silence was.

  ‘No, there’s no child in here,’ Naomi replied to her husband’s question. Her cheeks and throat, Kate noticed, were flushed to a high shade of pink. ‘Would you like me to pour you some more coffee?’

  ‘No, I do not want more coffee,’ Lawrence snapped back. ‘What I want is for that child to stop bawling. For God’s sake, tell me, do you not hear it? Any of you?’ With that, he clutched at his head as though in some terrible torment. Then, with his face screwed up in agony, seemingly of its own accord, his right arm shot sideways to send his coffee cup skittering across the table.

  Rooted to her seat, Kate looked to Naomi. She appeared to be fighting back tears.

  ‘Um… no. I can’t hear anyone at all.’

  Lawrence, though, was adamant. ‘Imagining it, am I? Is that it?’

  ‘No, dear, I’m not saying anything of the—’

  ‘Think I don’t know?’ he went on. Even from a distance, Kate could see veins pulsing in his temples. ‘T
ake me for a fool would you – telling me I have a daughter! I have no daughter. You, on the other hand, do seem to. Been busy with another man while I’ve been away, have you?’

  ‘What?’ In her disbelief, Naomi reeled backwards.

  ‘Major Cameron, was it? His little bastard, is she? Wouldn’t surprise me, the stubby little ginger weasel. Have Corporal Channer bring the motor round. I shall go over there now and have it out with the man. Never did trust the oily devil—’

  ‘Lawrence, please—’

  His condition was worse than they had thought, Kate reflected. Not only had he forgotten who Esme was, he seemed not to have registered that Luke was dead. Perhaps Naomi was right: perhaps his death had been the final straw.

  ‘Or would you have me believe it an immaculate conception? Is that the lie you’re peddling?’

  ‘Lawrence, please, stop this,’ Naomi pleaded. ‘I told you. The child is Esme. She was orphaned. We took her in. We call her our daughter but in actual fact she’s my niece. Surely you remember—’

  ‘Ha! More lies. Well, we’ll see about this.’

  With that, from further along, Rowley pushed back his chair and got to his feet. ‘Captain Colborne, sir, I was wondering about your orders for this morning…’

  In despair, Kate hung her head and stared down into her lap. Surely Rowley couldn’t believe such a ruse would work a second time? Even if it got Mr Lawrence away from the table, they couldn’t possibly ply him with alcohol at this hour of the morning.

  As had been the case last night, though, Lawrence seemed to undergo a transformation. ‘Orders,’ he said, getting to his feet and throwing down his napkin. ‘Time to inspect the lines, is it?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Very well. Then let’s be getting out there Lieutenant… Lieutenant…’

  ‘Rowley-King, sir.’

  Moving around the table, Lawrence paused to peer at Rowley as though seeing him for the first time. ‘New to the company, eh, lad?’