The Letter

by Ruth Saberton

“I’m going to find the means to support us, just you see,” he promised. “I don’t care if Father cuts me off. It doesn’t matter.”

  “But it does matter. You want to go to university.”

  “I want to be with you more,” said Kit. “I will find a way we can be together. I promise. I know we can’t marry straight away; I’m not that naïve, and I know I need your father’s blessing. But I’ll make my fortune somehow and then I’ll come for you. I love you, Daisy, but it may take time. Will you wait for me?”

  “Of course I’ll wait for you. I’d wait forever,” Daisy promised. She closed her eyes, anticipating his kiss. When it came, the bliss of it made her senses swim.

  It was a kiss like no other they’d shared before, full of determination. There were no pauses for poetic turns of phrase or flowery language. These weren’t necessary: Kit’s lips and touch told Daisy all she needed to know. He loved her and that was all that mattered. They would be together. They just had to find a way.

  “Was your father very angry?” she asked eventually once they’d broken apart.

  Kit sighed. “You could say that. I’ve had the full lecture about the family name and doing my duty. I thought he was going to hit me at one point. It was only because my mother begged him to calm down that we didn’t come to blows.”

  Daisy’s eyes filled with tears. The difficulties seemed almost insurmountable. “Oh, Kit. What are we to do?”

  “Make our plans and hold on to them,” Kit said firmly.

  “My godfather was furious too. He thinks I’ve behaved shamefully.”

  “He certainly made his feelings very clear when he visited. I thought my father would combust. I assured them both that you were totally blameless and I swore to them that nothing improper had passed between us.”

  “I was so afraid the Reverend might send me back to London,” Daisy said. The very idea sent dread rippling through her. How would she see Kit then? Without him, she would shrivel to nothing like a flower denied water.

  “I think it’s best we play our cards close to our chests for a few weeks while we work out what to do and how we can be together. This has to be our secret. Everyone else needs to believe we’ve parted. When we meet we’ll have to be exceedingly cautious. I believe my parents had word in the first place from a lad in the village who was more than happy to spy on us.”

  “Dickon Trehunnist,” Daisy said bitterly.

  “That sounds familiar,” Kit agreed. “I think we can outwit him though. From what I’ve seen of him he doesn’t appear to be the smartest chap.”

  “No, but he’s cunning and he’s still angry that I wouldn’t go to the dance with him,” Daisy sighed. “We’ll have to be careful. If I slip out from time to time, Nancy might cover for me and maybe Gem will too?”

  Kit nodded. “Only leave if you think it’s safe – and if you can get away, hang something from your bedroom window. I’ll do the same from the tower room. That way we can know when to meet in the cove.”

  “There’s a removable stone in the wall by the church gate too,” Daisy added excitedly. She had come across this quite by accident while standing there making polite conversation with her godfather’s parishioners. Her fingers had stolen across the crumbling stones and discovered that one of them was loose; later investigation had revealed a perfect hiding place. “We can leave messages there as well. If I have to turn back for any reason, I’ll slip a note inside.”

  “I’ll leave you a sonnet every day,” said Kit. He squeezed her hands. “It won’t be forever, Daisy, I promise. A few weeks at the most. I’ll find a way. My uncle’s a barrister in the city and may help us. He’s a decent chap and might even take me on as a clerk. That would be a start.”

  The moon, which had been sulking behind the clouds, stole out and filled the garden with silvery light.

  Kit caught her to him and kissed her again. “I should go. We mustn’t take too many risks. Not until we have some plans in place.”

  Daisy nodded. Despite the almost physical pain of having to wrench herself away from him, the heaviness in her heart had lifted. It wasn’t forever. They would find a way. As she watched Kit retreat into the shadows, she raised her face to the night sky and took comfort from its vastness. They were meant to be together, and so they would be. Kit loved her as she loved him. There was no one else.

  Smiling, Daisy gathered her shawl about her shoulders and crept back into the Rectory. When she slipped into her bed, sleep was just moments away – and this time her dreams were calm and peaceful.

  Chapter 9

  Daisy, August 1914

  Reading the paper across the table was a bad habit, Daisy knew, and one she generally did her best to hide from her godfather, but on the morning of the fifth of August she simply couldn’t ignore the headline. How was she supposed to concentrate on lumpy porridge when Britain was apparently at war with Germany? And how on earth could her godfather manage to eat kippers when their world was turning upside down? Daisy couldn’t face a mouthful. The half-recalled images from her old dream suddenly felt like premonitions and she pushed her bowl away with such violence that the Reverend Cutwell looked up in surprise.

  “Are we really at war?” Daisy asked.

  Her godfather laid the paper down.

  “I am afraid so, my dear. As from last night.”

  Daisy’s stomach lurched. She and Kit, meeting sporadically and secretly whenever they could, had talked of this a little but Daisy had been so focused on finding ways to see him that she’d barely registered just how badly affairs were escalating on the continent.

  “War’s inevitable,” Kit had said, only days before when they’d snatched a few precious minutes together. “If Germany won’t give the Cabinet the same assurance on Belgian neutrality that France has given, then I don’t think Mr Asquith will have any choice.”

  He would have explained in greater detail, but then Daisy had kissed him and all thoughts of politics had been forgotten for a few magical minutes.

  Now though, sitting at the breakfast table with her eyes straining to decipher the small print, Daisy wished she’d let Kit say more.

  “Is this because Germany won’t respect the neutrality of Belgium? They’ve forced Mr Asquith’s hand?”

  The Reverend’s bushy brows flew upwards. “And what, pray, do you know of these matters?”

  “I heard it somewhere,” Daisy improvised quickly. “I think maybe after church? Dr Parsons was speaking to you.”

  “Indeed?” Her godfather didn’t look convinced. “Well, in answer to your question, yes, I believe that’s the reason. We must protect our nation’s integrity and that is what this declaration of war will do.”

  So Britain really was at war. Daisy felt cold all over. Young men would have to go away and fight.

  Young men like Kit.

  “Don’t look so glum, my dear. It will all be over by Christmas, just you mark my words,” her godfather declared, tucking into his kippers.

  This wasn’t what Kit thought, but Daisy prayed her godfather was right.

  In the days that followed the announcement of war, Daisy was to hear these sentiments expressed over and over again. There was almost a carnival atmosphere in Rosecraddick. Gem was full of excitement about it all, desperately keen to do his bit, and on the following Sunday her godfather preached a patriotic sermon, calling upon all able-bodied men to enlist and fight for their King and country. Daisy, sitting in the church, could only stare at the back of Kit’s golden head and pray that he wouldn’t be one of them, although she knew deep in her heart that of course he would be.

  They hadn’t been able to meet up all week but after the service she managed to slip a note into their hiding place, her heart rising when she saw that one had been left for her. It was another sonnet, and by the time she’d reached the Rectory Daisy already knew it by heart. There was no mention of a meeting, however, and although she checked Kit’s tower constantly he didn’t signal to her. Daisy supposed she would just have to wait for him t
o snatch a moment. All their dreams of Kit joining his uncle in London and sending for her suddenly seemed childish and naïve in comparison to what was happening around them. Daisy began to fear that these hopes might never come to fruition. She missed Kit dreadfully and her dream came again with a vengeance.

  She was terribly afraid it was a warning…

  Somehow Daisy managed to hide her fears – and if there was one good thing to be said about the declaration of war, then it was that her godfather no longer seemed interested in what she was up to. Instead, he was preoccupied with preparing rousing sermons and doing his bit to spread Kitchener’s message throughout the parish. Soon Daisy found herself free to roam again. She left more secret notes for Kit and eventually they managed to meet at the cove, falling into each other’s arms and holding tightly.

  “Darling Daisy, I’ve missed you so, so much,” Kit gasped, pressing kisses onto her mouth and her cheeks and then, as he raised them to his lips, her hands. “I think about you all the time.”

  “You too,” she choked. After days apart, it felt so wonderful to be close to him that she was on the verge of tears. She never wanted to let him go.

  Kit raised her chin with his finger and brushed her lips with his. His kiss, as soft as a butterfly’s wing, made Daisy shiver all over. “My beautiful, beautiful Daisy.”

  She laughed. She knew she was far from beautiful at this moment: she was wild-haired and red-cheeked from running nearly all the way with her boots slipping on the rocks as she’d pitched forward and grazed her knees. Nevertheless, Kit made her feel as though she was the most exquisite creature on the earth. When he held her, she was in paradise.

  Hand in hand they walked along the tide’s edge. It was an overcast grey day, the clouds heavy and fat with rain, and Daisy wondered whether this was an omen. She hadn’t been able to cast off her leaden sense of dread, and the more she learned about the growing fervour for war the more worried she became. She was so afraid that Kit would enlist. With his sense of honour and his family’s military background, it was impossible he would do anything but join the army. So far though, he’d said nothing about this.

  Gem could hardly wait to sign up when the recruitment drive reached the village. Nancy and Daisy had walked into Rosecraddick that day on the pretext of doing some shopping for Mrs Polmartin, but mainly because the distracted Nancy was a liability in the kitchen and as likely to chop her fingers off as slice runner beans. The village had been alive with celebrations as soldiers, marching in swinging rhythm, paraded through the street to cheers and claps. Drums were beaten, bugles sounded, women threw flowers, and bunting had been strung across the shopfronts. Photographs were taken (Nancy and Daisy had posed for theirs) and a brass band had played while a line of local men waited to sign up at the table set up outside the pub. Gem, standing among them, had beamed at Nancy and waved.

  “He’s so excited,” she’d said to Daisy, a catch in her voice. “He says he’ll earn good money and when the war’s over we can get married and buy a little farm all of our own. He says he has to stop the Huns coming and taking it all first though.”

  Daisy hadn’t known quite what to say to this. Her shadowy night terrors had seemed at odds with the music and the sunshine and she’d felt terribly unpatriotic. For all her surreptitious reading of the newspaper, she didn’t understand this war and she really couldn’t imagine any Germans wanting to steal a lowly Cornish smallholding. She wished she could talk to Papa about it all. The thought of him caused a wave of homesickness to wash over her. Fulham and her upbringing there felt like another lifetime. She would write to him tonight, Daisy had decided; she missed Papa and she owed him a letter.

  “We’ll get engaged before Gem goes,” Nancy was saying in a determined tone. She’d wiped her eyes on her sleeve and had visibly brightened at this thought. “We’ll choose a ring in Truro next week and get married when he comes home on leave. That won’t be long. Everyone says it’ll be over by Christmas anyway.”

  Daisy certainly hoped so. She’d been about to congratulate Nancy when Dickon Trehunnist had swaggered over looking very pleased with himself. A pretty brunette was on his arm, gazing up at him adoringly.

  “I was the first man to join up,” he’d announced, his gaze flickering over Daisy as he’d treated her to a see what you could have had? smirk. “I’m the first from Rosecraddick to take the King’s shilling and fight for King and country. I’m a cracking shot already, as everyone knows, and the Sergeant said they need men like me to kill the Huns.”

  Daisy imagined the Sergeant was spot on. Dickon Trehunnist, with his cruel streak and native cunning, was perfect killing material. He wouldn’t question or think too much but instead would follow orders and even enjoy fighting. Not for him tortured thoughts of bullets burrowing through flesh and crunching into the bones of his fellow man. He probably wouldn’t see the Germans as his fellow man anyway. Men like Dickon had no imagination. Maybe they were the fortunate ones? Kit’s latest poems were filled with imagery of death, and her dream was returning with increasing regularity.

  “It’ll be a hard slog but if we don’t stop the Huns from taking France then we’ll be next,” Dickon had continued, his chest swelling with importance. “One glimpse of us and they’ll run away like girls.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Daisy had replied. The creeping dread was there and in spite of the warm August sunshine she’d felt chilled to the marrow. Every instinct she had was telling her Dickon was wrong, yet what did she know? All the older people seemed certain victory was only months away.

  “I’ve done it! I’ve enlisted!” Gem had joined them. He was grinning from ear to ear and his eyes were sparkling. “Now then, Nancy, is it true that all the girls love a soldier? Can I have a joining-up kiss?”

  Reaching for Nancy, he’d picked her up and spun her around until she’d shrieked with laughter and begged to be released.

  “You’re an idiot, Gem Pencarrow! You didn’t have to join up for me to kiss you,” she’d gasped, clutching her side.

  “Ah, but think how smart I’ll look in my uniform for our wedding photos!” Gem had grinned. “We’ll look back on those when we’re old and grey and think how handsome I was!”

  “I want a Christmas wedding,” Nancy had demanded, her tears all dry now and looking thrilled to be on the arm of a soldier. The talk of wedding pictures had perked her up no end. “And I want a decent ring, Gem Pencarrow. I want a diamond!”

  Kit’s daisy-chain ring was tucked inside Daisy’s journal and hidden under the floorboard. It was dry and crumbly, but it couldn’t have been more precious if it had been made of the most expensive diamonds. Leaving the happy couple making plans while Dickon continued to brag, Daisy had wandered away, taking the lane past the manor house just in case Kit might see her and follow. There’d been no sign of him though. The doctor’s dog cart had bowled by as she’d turned into the woods to take the circular route back to the church, but apart from this and a bright-eyed blackbird that had flown ahead shouting, there’d been nobody around. She’d walked down to the cove and watched the waves breaking on the shore, and wept for something she couldn’t name and didn’t understand but which felt like utter despair. Then she’d turned for home, drained and exhausted.

  Today at the cove with Kit, the same sense of hopelessness had returned and it was overwhelming. Daisy felt as though she was standing on the edge of a precipice and that at any moment she would tumble over.

  “Are you going to fight?” she blurted, unable to keep her fears to herself any longer. Her skirts trailed in the water but she barely noticed. All her attention was trained on Kit. “Have you enlisted? Is that why I haven’t seen you? Are you hiding it from me?”

  Kit’s fingers tightened on hers. “Daisy, I would never stay away from you or hide anything. Never. My father’s been taken ill and I haven’t been able to get away. Dr Parsons says he mustn’t be placed under any strain.”

  “I’m so sorry, Kit.”

  He smiled wryly. “It�
��s no fun to see the old man in such a bad way. Mind you, he’s still well enough to lecture me about my duty and the family traditions.”

  Dread lapped over her like the waves at her ankles.

  “You’ve enlisted, haven’t you?”

  She saw the anguish in his eyes.

  “What else can I do? Every able-bodied man will be asked to do his patriotic duty. How can I be any different?”

  “Because I love you!” Daisy cried. “You’re not a soldier, Kit. You’re a poet!”

  “And I love you too, Daisy, but how can I not go and fight? How can I let everyone else go and not do my bit? I love my country, my home, this village and most of all I love you. I have to go and fight. Pa’s right there: it is my duty. I’m joining his regiment, so at least I’ll go to war knowing I’ve finally done something he approves of.”

  Oh God. This was it. Daisy knew she had to hold on to him, had to keep him safe – but at that moment she understood that, no matter what, she wouldn’t be able to do so. The creeping terror of the dream was here and it was real.

  “Please, Kit,” she whispered. “Please don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

  He stared down at her, distraught. “Daisy, what sort of man would I be if I didn’t fight to keep my girl safe? If I didn’t do my bit for my country? How could I live with myself?”

  At least you’d live! she wanted to cry, but she bit the words back because there was no point arguing: Kit had already made up his mind. Besides, he was right. What choice did he really have? Enlisting might be voluntary in theory but the reality was very different. As Kit spoke to her about how he wanted to protect the land of Shakespeare and Keats and do the right thing by his King and country, Daisy knew there was nothing she could say to change his decision. In that moment, her heart broke.

  “But they say you have to be nineteen to fight,” she said in a final attempt.

  Kit nodded. “Yes, that’s true, and I’ll be at a training camp on Salisbury Plain for a few months first. I can’t imagine I’ll see action until the autumn and I’ll be nineteen by then anyway.”