by Rose Meddon
‘He does seem to be in favour of it, yes, although I do think that, in part at least, his eagerness stems from a notion that if this neurosis of his can be cured, he will be able to return to the front.’
‘Whereas you think that’s unlikely.’
‘From the sound of it, yes, I do,’ Naomi answered. ‘Which, of course, pleases me no end. But if, by thinking he might be able to go back, Lawrence is encouraged to try this new treatment, then who am I to quash his enthusiasm?’
‘Mm.’
‘Oh, and they have also prescribed him something he can take to help him sleep, and something different he can take if he feels as though he’s losing control of his thoughts.’
‘And do you think he will take either of them?’ she asked, glancing across to where Naomi had gone to stare out through the window.
‘He has already started to. He took the first dose on the train on the way home.’
‘Goodness.’
‘Apparently, the doctor told him that he can either choose to help himself – by whatever means available – or else he can be committed to hospital, especially if he is perceived to be a danger to other people.’
‘Such as to you and Esme.’
‘To anyone at all, really.’
Looking at Naomi’s face, Kate thought she looked better than she had in a while. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you seem… relieved.’
‘I suppose I am. All things considered, the whole thing went far better than I had dared hope. Now all we can do is pray that he can be accommodated at this Priory Glen place in Exeter, and that this unbelievably simple treatment will work.’
Lifting Naomi’s empty bag from the floor she smiled. ‘I shall pray hard for it.’
‘Thank you. And what about you? How are you feeling today?’
‘Not too bad,’ she replied. ‘All told.’
‘Good. I’m glad.’
‘Right, well, I’ll just put these few things along the corridor with your trunks and what-not, and then I’ll see you downstairs. There’s a couple of slices of strawberry tart left – if you fancy. Go real nice with a cup of tea, they would.’
‘Then I’ll see you down there.’
Could it really be that simple, Kate wondered as she trailed along the corridor to the spare room. Was Mr Lawrence really to be so easily cured? She did hope so. As she had said to Rowley, this family had sent three men to war, and each of them had, in one way or another, lost the lives to which they had expected to return: Ned had been injured so badly that he would probably never walk again; Mr Lawrence had lost his mind and had, until now at least, been in danger of losing everything else along with it; and Luke, well, poor Luke had paid the biggest price of all. But, by the seem of it, there was now hope for Mr Lawrence – and thus for Naomi, too. Yes, at least Naomi might be able to look forward to having her husband back – and to going on to enjoy being married and raising a family. And that had to be better than both of them being left to wonder – and fear – for what lay ahead.
* * *
‘Is it wrong that I feel better for that?’
‘’Course not, child, that’s what funerals are for – even though it mightn’t have been a funeral in the ordinary sense of the word.’
Reassured by her mother-in-law’s response, Kate attempted a smile. Along with Mabel and Edith, and Naomi and Esme, they were returning from the service of remembrance held for Luke in Woodicombe church. In the days beforehand, the prospect of it had hung over her like a ghastly spectre, the gloom and the solemnity of the occasion filling her with a deep dread. But, as his widow, she knew there could be no avoiding it. She also knew that it was something Luke deserved, even though he himself would probably have pooh-poohed the whole thing as being nothing but a lot of unnecessary sadness. However, now that it was behind her, she saw it differently: she recognized it as something designed as much to comfort the bereaved as to celebrate the deceased, and a milestone in the journey that was their grief.
‘Shall you come down for a cup of tea and a slice of cake?’ she asked, glancing to Ma Channer walking by her side. Waiting for her to reply, she lifted her face to the warm sunshine. An hour or so back, the sky had been overcast and the air humid and flat. Sombre. But they had left the church to find the sun shining and the leaves in the hedgerow fidgeting in a light breeze.
‘I won’t, girl, if you don’t mind. You’ll no doubt remember how Pa’s a stickler for having his dinner dished up on the dot of midday.’
Glancing over her shoulder, Kate noticed that some way behind them, having failed to utter a single word since arriving at the church, Pa Channer was walking by himself. It was hard to gauge how he was taking the loss of his son, he being someone whose countenance never changed – someone who only ever exhibited a sort of unvarying acceptance of whatever came his way, whether brought by fair wind or foul.
‘No, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘Just remember that you’d be welcome any time.’
Back at the house, the little party went in through the porch and, as they each stood unpinning their hats, Naomi turned to regard her. ‘How do you feel after that?’
‘All right,’ she replied, the surprise in her tone almost certainly down to her relief. ‘Surprisingly, I feel a little better.’
Setting her hat on the hall table and staring down at it, she was glad she had resisted Mabel’s desire to attach a veil to it; it would have been too much. There was nothing special about her loss of Luke: women everywhere were mourning their menfolk; it was just how it was. Drawing attention to grief or making a big display of it – as women had done before the war – had come to be frowned upon, widows now being expected to bear their grief with stoicism, a state seen as patriotic. And anyway, out here in the countryside, where death had always been treated rather more matter-of-factly, it had never been the done thing for ordinary folk to mount great or theatrical displays of mourning.
Heaving a long sigh, she felt a set of warm little fingers curling around her hand and looked down to see Esme’s clear eyes staring up at her.
‘Aunty Kate?’
She smiled. ‘Yes, lovey?’
‘Would you like to play with Rabbit?’
‘Well, I have to go and—’
‘Mamma say Aunty Kate sad. Playing with Rabbit make you happy again.’
‘Then thank you, yes,’ she said, swallowing down a lump in her throat. ‘I should very much like to play with Rabbit. If you’re sure you don’t need him.’
The little girl shook her head, her dark ringlets bobbing about her shoulders. ‘No, you have him. I’ve got Mr Grumpy Bear.’
When Esme skipped away, humming brightly, Kate fingered the little toy, the nap of its felt rubbed almost bare. It was having Esme in the household that had first made her aware of her own broodiness – or, at least, how she had been burying it – and made her realize that she was looking forward to starting her own family. No, she checked herself: not was looking forward to starting her own family – had been looking forward to it. No point continuing to look forward to something she could no longer have.
‘I should think they will be there by now.’
Brought from her thoughts by Naomi’s remark, Kate turned to see her studying her reflection in the mirror.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘It’s almost midday, so I should imagine Lawrence will be at Priory Glen by now.’
‘Heavens, yes.’
‘It was good of Rowley to go with him. I can quite understand why Lawrence didn’t want me to see him being admitted to what is, to all intents and purposes, a hospital, and I know Ned was right to suggest that I stay here, but I couldn’t have let him go alone.’
‘No,’ Kate replied. ‘This way you’ll know he arrived safe. And what the place is like.’
‘I will, yes. Oh, Kate, I do hope they can cure him. Or, if not cure him completely, then at least ease his suffering. I can’t bear to see him so broken.’
‘Nor me,’ she said. And it was true. Mr Lawrence was a good man –
like Luke. Like Luke had been. Would she never get it into her head that he wasn’t coming back? Presumably, eventually, she would. Give it time, Ma Channer had urged her this morning. In truth, she had no choice: with or without Luke, her life was going to carry on. It just wasn’t going to be the same life she had spent the last four years dreaming about…
* * *
‘If you’re sure you don’t mind. Only, my leg is so awfully stiff from the train and in desperate need of some exercise.’
It was after five o’clock when Rowley arrived back from accompanying Mr Lawrence to Exeter. His first task being to reassure Naomi that Priory Glen was a surprisingly pleasant place; he then announced that he was going to take a turn around the grounds, whereupon Kate offered to accompany him.
‘If your leg is bothering you, then it’s better you don’t venture out alone,’ she said now, as they made their way out through the French doors.
Reaching the steps that led down from the terrace onto the lawn, he proceeded alongside her in somewhat lopsided fashion until, at the bottom, he turned to regard her. ‘Captain Colborne asked me to apologize to you again for not being able to attend the service.’
Giving him a light smile, she nodded. ‘More important that he gets well.’
‘And I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to honour your husband either.’
To put him at ease, she raised another smile. ‘It’s all right. It’s not as though the two of you were acquainted.’ Nor, she thought, reflecting upon how little the two men had in common, were you ever likely to have been.
‘No,’ he replied, limping on. ‘But it is largely down to the kindness and generosity of this family – and your efforts in particular – that my recovery has been as it has. And, although I didn’t know your husband, I do know you.’
Feeling suddenly uncomfortable to be discussing Luke with him, Kate opted to change the subject. ‘So, Mr Lawrence is all settled at this Priory Glen place, then.’
Awaiting his reply, she glanced about. From force of habit, they were taking their usual path across the lawn towards the copse.
‘Well, I don’t know about settled, but he’s installed there, yes.’
‘And it was nice, this place?’
‘As I said to Mrs Colborne,’ he replied, ‘it struck me as a cross between a rambling manor house, a gentleman’s country club and a makeshift army camp – in some ways all terribly informal, in others, highly regimented. And the staff I met seemed utterly dedicated – highly enthusiastic about what they do there.’
When he looked towards her, she nodded. ‘That’s good.’
‘When they took Captain Colborne to be admitted, I got talking to a chap who is about to be discharged. It was he who told me that the proper name for the captain’s condition is neurasthenia. He also said that the doctor there believes it occurs following a sudden or prolonged disturbance to one’s emotions. Anyway, this chap gave me a tour of the place – couldn’t speak highly enough of just about every aspect of it.’
The more he described it, the more Kate felt herself relaxing. It would be such a comfort to Naomi to know that Mr Lawrence was in good hands.
‘And what about you?’ she asked, their pace slowing as they neared the trees. ‘Do you have any news yet?’
Coming to a halt and turning to look back at the house, he shook his head. ‘None yet, no. But I shall try to telephone home this weekend – just in case Mother hasn’t managed to forward on my most recent letters. She’s always so busy that the more mundane things in life often escape her.’ When, intrigued, she looked back at him, he took it upon himself to explain. ‘She’s a researcher on a project trying to develop new types of radio communications for military use. Before the war, she worked on something similar at the university but, when the chap she worked for got drafted onto this project for the government, he took her with him. She’s the only woman among about a hundred men. But she was the only woman at the university too, so, as these things go, she’s used to it.’
‘Goodness.’
‘But, as I say, being so involved with her work does mean that sometimes, things at home do rather go to pot. Before the war, she had a housekeeper and a charwoman. But all we have now is a young girl who comes in each day to see to the dogs – we have two Lakeland terriers, Bertie and Charles.’
The thought of dogs being called Bertie and Charles made her laugh, while the thought of his mother doing something so important made her realize for the first time just how properly different his background was – even to that of Naomi and Ned.
‘And your father?’ she said, keen now to picture the whole of his family.
‘Professor of physics at the university. I think I might have said to you it’s where they met.’ Remembering something to that effect, she nodded, hoping he would go on to tell her more. ‘Obviously, for a long time after she had me and my sisters, my mother stayed at home. But the life of a housewife didn’t suit her and, as soon as she could, she returned to a research post. Unheard of, really. But there you are. That’s my mother. And, whenever something at home used to get overlooked – like the date for us to go back to school – my sisters and I used to joke that she was too busy saving the world to concern herself with mortal things like term times and exeats.’
‘Didn’t you mind that?’ she asked, struggling to picture something so apparently haphazard.
‘Being neglected, do you mean?’ Side-stepping a dip in the lawn, he laughed. ‘I didn’t know any different. I thought it was how everyone lived. Well, until one day when my mother invited some of her colleagues around and one of them said to me that had my mother been a man, her work would have been nominated for all sorts of awards, and that she would have been recognized for her contribution—’
‘But because she was a woman—’
‘She could only be listed on scientific papers as somebody else’s research assistant or, at best, as a co-author.’
Reflecting upon what he had just told her, she frowned. ‘That hardly seems fair.’
‘It isn’t. But, when I asked my mother about it, she said that one day, things will probably change but that, in the meantime, the most important thing wasn’t the sex of the person making the discoveries but that they were made at all. For his part, Father always made sure we understood how valuable her work was – forever telling us that we should be proud of her. And so we were.’
In the days that followed that afternoon, Kate continued to accompany Rowley on his same stroll around the gardens. Sometimes, he took the camera she had found for him, other times they just conversed as they went. On this particular day, spurred by something he had read in the Telegraph, their topic for discussion was aeroplanes and flying.
‘They want to fly from America to England?’ she said, wondering whether she had misheard him. ‘But isn’t that a very long way?’
He raised a smile. ‘About three thousand miles cross an ocean.’
‘Three thousand miles across an ocean in an aeroplane?’ As notions went, it was hard to credit.
Amused by her astonishment, he nodded. ‘A group of American army pilots want to do just that, yes. They want to be the first to arrive at the battlefields of Europe by air.’
‘And can they do it?’ she asked. It had been bad enough when Ned had first told her about flying across the Channel and, from what she could recall, that wasn’t even as far as the distance they covered by railway train from Woodicombe to London.
‘Someone is bound to do it soon,’ he said. ‘The newspaper believes that by the end of this year, someone will succeed in making it non-stop. But, if it is to be the Americans, they will have to use English aeroplanes, shipped across especially for the purpose because they themselves don’t have anything capable of covering that sort of distance, particularly in those conditions.’
On their subsequent walk, later that same afternoon, Rowley’s topic of conversation had changed to that of the recent battles in France.
‘The Germans simply weren’t expecti
ng the numbers,’ he said of one particular skirmish. ‘Weren’t expecting the amount of forces we had on our side. Their attack at Marne was only ever meant to be a diversion from a series of others they had planned for Flanders, where their numbers are much stronger. But, having underestimated the combined strength of the allies, they suffered massive losses – by some estimates, in excess of one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand men. It’s a real win for us, and a terrible blow for them. To my mind, it must surely mark the beginning of the end. I really do believe it. If nothing else, perhaps they will now listen to their Prince Wilhelm. As long as a year ago he was denouncing this war as senseless, and calling for peace.’
‘But no one listened to him,’ she remarked as they walked on.
‘They didn’t. Everyone else in Germany still thought they could win.’
‘Think of all the deaths that need never have happened,’ she said, realizing that Luke’s could have been among them. It was a thought she quickly tried to push from her mind.
‘Hundreds of thousands.’
‘But even if it is nearly all over, you still want to go back and fly, if they’ll let you?’
Glancing towards her, he briefly met her look. ‘I do. If they’ll let me.’
His return to service was something else she tried not to think about. On a warm and sunny afternoon, it was hard to even picture war, let alone understand how a young man from his background could want to return to it. There had to be something in a man’s make up that a woman didn’t have: given the chance to come home on leave, all Mr Lawrence had wanted to talk about was getting back to lead his men; and Ned, despite waking up one day to discover that he no longer had the use of his legs, had thought first to ask about his chances of returning to flying. And now, here was Rowley, itching to get back to it too. It was a difficult thing to understand. Oddly, though, it was also reassuring: the empire needed brave men like these, who were prepared to give up everyday life to go and fight for what was right – even if it did mean that a lot of women were left without husbands, without sons and brothers, and a lot of children without fathers. Not to mention all those children who would now never be born – like hers and Luke’s.
