by Tania Crosse
‘Come on, Lily, you’ve done enough,’ he said to me on the Thursday evening. ‘It’s getting late and we’ll have to be up early if you’re going to drop me off at William and Deborah’s before you go to work. And Trojan will need a walk if he’s going to be shut up here all day.’
His eyebrows were knitted with concern and I smiled up at him, stifling a yawn. ‘You’re right. Would you like some cocoa or something before we go to bed?’
It struck me that we were like an old married couple, incongruous when we were sharing such distressing experiences through the medium of the written word. But the next morning, Daniel resembled a young boy in his excitement at the prospect of being rid of the plaster-cast. I had to chuckle at the youthful glint in his eyes as we drove down into Tavistock.
I hurried back to the house at lunchtime, arriving at the gate the same time as Wendy was approaching from the other direction.
‘Oh, it’s great to have you back again!’ she grinned as she danced me up the path. ‘I’ve missed you so much! Do you want to come to the pictures with Ian and me tonight? And there’s a dance at the Town Hall tomorrow.’
‘I’m sure Ian won’t want me tagging along.’
‘Oh, he doesn’t mind. And dances are the best places to meet people. We’ve got to get you a boyfriend somehow!’
‘I’ll come to the dance, then, if you really don’t mind. But I promised I’d drive Daniel home this evening.’
Wendy pulled a face. ‘He’s jolly lucky to have had you to look after him. I would never have done. I hope he appreciates it.’
‘Yes, he does. He’s said so many a time. We get on pretty well, actually.’
‘There’s no accounting for taste!’ Wendy teased as we went inside.
Everyone was eating sandwiches from a piled plate on the table in the lounge as the stairs down to the kitchen were very steep and could be dangerous for Daniel on his crutches. He beamed up at me as I sat down beside him. I thought I’d never seen him look so happy and boyish.
‘I can’t wait to get this thing off this afternoon and have a good old scratch!’ he announced gleefully.
‘Well, you just be careful,’ Edwin warned. ‘And no overdoing it too quickly.’
‘Yes, doc,’ Daniel answered with mock deference, and then burst out laughing. ‘I don’t think I’ll be training for the Olympics quite yet!’
‘The clinic starts at two o’clock and your appointment’s not until three,’ I reminded him. ‘So if we’re going to give you a lift to the hospital, you’ll have to hang around.’
‘I’ll just have to sit and watch you, then, won’t I?’ he murmured, throwing me a sideways glance that unnerved me.
In the event, Edwin lent him a book to read while he was waiting. ‘As long as it’s not War and Peace,’ he said under his breath, the significance of which I was to discover later.
It was a joy, though, to witness the euphoria on his face when he and Edwin walked back down the corridor towards me after his appointment. His gait was a little slow and tentative and he was using the stick he’d been supplied with, but his eyes were gleaming.
‘So how’s the patient, Dr Franfield?’ I asked eagerly.
‘Fully mended,’ Edwin declared. ‘The muscles are a bit wasted as you’d expect, but do those exercises and you’ll soon be as right as rain. And the ribs and everything else are fine, too.’ He clapped Daniel on the shoulder. ‘Take care, old chap. Now, I must see my next patient.’
Daniel sat down and waited until I could speak to him again. We had thought to bring his other shoe and a pair of trousers without the leg seam unpicked and I showed him where he could change.
‘How does it feel?’ I enquired when he reappeared.
‘Wonderful!’ he sighed blissfully. ‘A bit weird, but wonderful! Ed said if I go carefully and use the stick, I can walk back into town. I could do with calling in at the barber’s, and Deborah will be there to let me back in to the house.’
‘Are you sure?’ I frowned. ‘The hill’s very steep.’
‘I promise to be careful. And if I feel tired, I’ll perch on someone’s wall for a rest. So I’ll see you later.’ He paused, his eyes rakish. ‘Carrots.’
I closed my lips as I tried not to laugh. Oh, yes! The old Daniel was back!
‘What are you going to do now without the jeep?’ I asked as I turned into the gravel drive at Fencott Place that evening and turned off the engine. ‘You really need a car out here.’
‘I’m sure I’ll think of something. The insurance has paid up, not that the jeep was worth much. I suppose I could take the Bentley out of mothballs,’ Daniel shrugged carelessly. ‘Damned thing guzzles petrol, mind, and while this Suez business is going on—’
‘Bentley?’
‘Mmm. Apart from her half of the house which reverted to Gran – and which is mine now anyway – my great aunt left everything to me. Not that she had very much. The jeep, the Bentley and the necklace were about the sum total.’
‘But…a Bentley—’
‘Oh, it’s very old. Been up on chocks in the barn since the beginning of the war, more or less. But I could give the garage a ring and see if they could get it going again. After all, if I’m going to be a hotelier, I might need a decent car to pick people up in.’
I gave a half wry, half bemused grunt. ‘You’re a dark horse sometimes, Daniel! And will you, then? Become a hotelier?’
He puffed out his cheeks. ‘I’ve absolutely no idea. I don’t even know if I’d be allowed with the house being leasehold. And I don’t know if I’d want to. Anyway, all I can think of just now is lighting the boiler in the boot room and when the water’s hot enough, enjoying a long, long soak. Six weeks without a bath is long enough for anyone. I don’t know how you’ve put up with me!’
He threw up his head with a full-throated laugh and I couldn’t help giggling in return, pinching my nostrils between my forefinger and thumb.
‘Didn’t you notice me wearing a peg on my nose all the time?’
‘Get away with you!’ he grinned back, a carefree light in his eyes I had seldom seen before, making him more handsome than ever. My heart lurched, and I was glad to be able to say, ‘I think you’ll have to take Trojan for a walk first. I can hear him barking his head off.’
‘Yes, so can I. Will you come with us?’
‘I’d love to. But I must get back after that. With the evenings drawing in, I don’t want to be driving across the moor in the dark.’
Daniel’s face became serious again. ‘No. I wouldn’t want the same thing happening to you as did to me. And that was in the middle of the afternoon. So go carefully, won’t you, Lily?’
His expression took on its usual intensity, and for a moment, I hoped… But he said nothing more and then got out of the car. I followed, deliberately tamping down my emotions. Just good friends. Perhaps it was best that way.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘The band’s great, isn’t it, Lily?’ Wendy called as she swept past me in Ian’s arms. ‘You having a good time?’
I had no chance to reply as she was whisked on up the dance floor, so I nodded vigorously, my face in an enthusiastic grin. I dropped breathlessly into my chair, exhausted from three strenuous dances with a quite amenable chap who had been paying me particular attention but had now gone off to play the field. I didn’t mind as I sipped my cooling drink. If I was offered the job and moved away from Tavistock, there was little point in developing a relationship with someone in the town.
Besides, as I had danced with the fellow, I couldn’t help wishing that it was Daniel who had been holding me, one hand resting in the small of my back and the other joined with mine. I had never known Daniel to dance at any of Deborah’s parties, so I wasn’t sure he knew how. He always lounged against a wall, quietly observing the frivolities but never joining in as if he couldn’t let go of his inner tensions. And as I was the only person in the world to have read his book, I was also the only one who could really understand.
&nb
sp; But it seemed he still didn’t want to get too close to another human being. I had wanted to go up to Fencott Place on the Sunday to do some more typing. I was totally absorbed in the story, not just wanting to find out more of what had happened to Daniel but because I admired the way he wrote and depicted all the other characters as well. But he had rejected my offer, saying I had done enough for him already. So I had insisted on taking the next few chapters with me and apart from helping with the Sunday dinner and doing my ironing, I shut myself away in Deborah’s office with her typewriter.
Once arrived in Camp One, the captives had been segregated according to rank, and Daniel had found himself with other junior officers, some from the captured Glosters but, as everywhere, they were far outnumbered by the Americans. The Chinese programme of re-education began at once, a systematic attempt to convert these western capitalists to communism. Half of the four hours of daily lectures was conducted by a handful of English-speaking Chinese trying to convince the allies of how backward and oppressed they were, and the other half was in Chinese of which nobody understood a word. Yet if any man looked bored or as if he wasn’t paying attention, he was beaten and kicked until he looked visibly interested again. It was laughable, Daniel had written. They were told that the Chinese people welcomed discussion, but that if any prisoner stubbornly refused to accept that communism was the only correct philosophy, he would be punished.
Daniel had been among the hecklers during the lectures. I smiled grimly to myself. I could just imagine it. He wasn’t the sort to be cowed by authority. Resistance was higher among the British and they paid for it. It wasn’t long before, along with others, he was sentenced to solitary confinement in jail, little wooden boxes so small a man couldn’t lie down properly. What with the sweltering heat, being handcuffed, the crawling lice and appalling diet, it was pure hell. Some didn’t survive this barbaric treatment, and when Daniel was released after two months, he swore he’d never commit another crime.
Meanwhile, conditions at the camp had improved minimally. Sanitation was a little better as was the food, and a hospital was established for the many who were still falling ill, although medicine was virtually non-existent. To top it all, as the prisoners’ uniforms disintegrated, they were replaced with the Chinese yellow, quilted suits. It was utterly humiliating but, with winter coming on, they had no choice. The diet was so disgusting that many, the Americans in particular, lost the desire to eat and died of starvation. It was easier to die than to live.
One thing that helped raise morale was that they were allowed to play football. Those that were fit enough played every day. It became an obsession and Daniel, or the character in his book, found it was a way of releasing his frustration, although in time, the game became like some torturing ritual.
I sat back from the typewriter with a sigh. So that was why Daniel had refused so curtly to play for the Princetown team. Football reminded him too painfully of his time in captivity. Yes, I could understand that.
The memory of when I had met him in Bolts sent my thoughts back to when I had lived with Sidney in Princetown. Of how the antagonism between Sidney and me had turned to an odd sort of friendship. But there were so many secrets, so many unanswered questions. Perhaps the answers were in that box.
I broke out in a hot sweat. I had encouraged Daniel to open up his heart, face his demons, when I didn’t have the guts to face my own. My heart began to beat nervously. How could I be a whole person again unless I learnt all that I could about my past? Gloria had said I would know when the time was right. Well, I had friends now to support me, an adopted family, and anything I discovered would never change that. So perhaps…
I gathered up the chapters of Daniel’s book and took them up to my room. When I came back down, Wendy and Ian were just coming in from a walk, followed a few minutes later by Edwin who had been to the hospital to check on a patient.
‘I’ll make some tea now you’re all back,’ Deborah announced, rising from the sofa.
‘I’ll come and help,’ I offered, and as I reached the door, I turned back to William and said casually, ‘You know that box of Sidney’s effects you put in the loft for me? Well, would you mind getting it down again some time, please? I’d like to go through it properly now.’
‘This is quite exciting, isn’t it? Like going on an adventure!’
It was Tuesday evening and Wendy and I were sitting cross-legged on the rug in my bedroom with the box in front of us. It wasn’t very big and I had always kept all the photographs from it in my drawer with one of my mother and another of my brothers in frames on my bedside table. But there were lots of other papers to go through and, of course, the diary. While Wendy’s face was aglow with curiosity, I was struggling to summon up the courage to begin.
‘I’m not sure about that,’ I answered, biting my lip. ‘I’m really nervous about what I might find. And I think it’s sad that Sidney isn’t around to explain everything.’
Wendy’s expression changed to one of infinite compassion. ‘But if he’d still been alive, he might never have told you anything at all. And anyway, until you look, you won’t know if there’s anything in this box.’
Yes, I’d been telling myself the same thing for the past two and a half years. And so, with trembling hands, I lifted the lid. That distinctive, musty smell of old papers, especially ones stored in a cold loft, rose into my nostrils. This was it. But dear Wendy, who had become like a sister to me, was there to share the moment.
‘These were his payslips,’ I said, taking out the bundle I had previously bound with an elastic band that was now in danger of perishing. ‘He was paid in cash but we lived so frugally, I’m sure he couldn’t have spent it all and I couldn’t find anything about a bank or a savings account. You wouldn’t mind going through them again, would you, in case I missed anything? And there’s all sorts of bits of loose papers in the bottom of the box.’
‘Righty-ho,’ Wendy smiled back. ‘It’s a bit like being a detective. Who do you fancy being, Maigret or Poirot? Or how about Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson? No, maybe not them. I always think Holmes treats his poor friend like an idiot.’
I chuckled, grateful that I had Wendy to shore up my courage. So I took out the diary and began to read from the beginning. The entries were sporadic, dating from the end of the war. The first few pages contained nothing of interest, and then the word mother-in-law jumped out at me, and my heart began to race.
I received a letter from my mother-in-law today. It was stupid of me to have told her my address. I could have come back from the war and disappeared, but I suppose I felt I should make some contact. After all, she still thinks the girl is mine, or at least I believe she does. Cynthia swore that she had never told her mother the truth, although how the pair of us are supposed to have produced a redhead, I don’t know. Perhaps the old lady put it down to some throw-back. You do hear of such things. Sometimes I’ve even tried to make myself believe it, that the child was mine. But Cynthia had worked it out that it couldn’t possibly be. At least she was honest in that. It was when the company had sent me up north for those few weeks that she had her fling with Kevin. My own friend! Only it wasn’t a fling. They’d been in love for years, she said, but they’d only slept together that one time when I was away and then she had found she was pregnant. So there is no doubt that the girl is Kevin’s.
Should I tell Ellen? I’ve asked myself that question for years. But it would only muddy the waters and ruin her devotion to Cynthia’s memory. And it would be admitting to my failure as a husband. I couldn’t make her happy. I was too strict, she said, too religious. But what does it matter? She is dead and gone, and I was too proud to forgive her. But I cannot accept the child. Ellen and John, God rest his soul, had already adopted her, so it should remain that way. There is no reason why Lily should know any of this. I shall write to Ellen and tell her I want nothing more to do with them. She will think it strange, but she never liked me and I’m sure will be only too pleased to see the back of me. And
then I will move on. Forgive me, Lord, if you do not approve, but at this moment, I believe it is the right thing to do.
That was the end of the entry and I sat back to take stock. It hadn’t really told me anything I didn’t already know, except that my father’s Christian name was Kevin. I wondered what he looked like, some sort of redhead by all accounts. And it was as I had hoped: not some sordid, one-night stand, but a love that had gone on for years. But Kevin had been Sidney’s friend, and I felt sorry for that. It must be hard to take such betrayal, worse than if he’d been a stranger. But Sidney was being completely honest with himself in his diary, as if his conscience was speaking directly to his God.
I was beginning to think that, although I was seeing into Sidney’s mind, the diary might not reveal very much at all. It made me feel more relaxed about the whole affair as I went to read on. Beside me, Wendy had gone through all the payslips and shook her head. She leant forward to reach into the box again, accidentally knocking the diary, and the newspaper cuttings I had found before fell out onto the rug.
‘Oh, sorry, Lily,’ Wendy apologised as she retrieved them. ‘Shall I look at these for you?’
‘Yes, do,’ I said carelessly, eager now to get back to the diary.
There was a gap in the dates and Sidney had obviously been busy moving. The next entry was about a month later.
I haven’t found a job yet. I don’t want to go back to insurance but I don’t know what I want to do instead. I still have money from my Army pay, though. Perhaps I should have stayed on in the forces like Kevin did.
