Teardrops in the Moon

by Crosse, Tania

  Her father answered her with a dark nod, but nobody spoke, everyone locked in a private maelstrom of thought. What would it mean for the world? For them, as family and friends? For the second time in less than a day, Marianne was shaken rigid. Her father had considered for some time that the situation was tinderbox dry and only needed one small spark to explode into a conflagration. Would this assassination be that spark?

  Suddenly the events of the last few days paled into insignificance. What did it matter that her heart had risen on a crest of expectation only to be smashed to pieces almost at once? What mattered was that, if war broke out across Europe as now seemed inevitable, there would be lives lost. Young men like her brother Hal or Michael who both sat at the breakfast table now. It was unbearable. Marianne no longer cared that Mary had appeared to have captured Michael’s heart from under her nose. All she cared about was that Michael would not be involved in any war, and that nothing should happen to him or to Hal or any of the other young men she knew. She felt ashamed at the hurt resentment she had felt the previous evening and would make up for it in any way she could. Do whatever was in her power to help her country if it indeed went to war. She didn’t know what or how, but she would. And in that instant, she made the second secret vow of her life.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Seth’s warm eyes smiled into his wife’s face on the pillow beside him. ‘That was a lovely way to start the day. I’m glad we’re still able to do it.’

  ‘Oh, you!’ Rose chuckled. ‘We’re not that old!’

  Seth gave an amused grunt but then his expression changed. ‘Rose, the chap from the army’s coming tomorrow to choose some horses. It might be a good idea to have Marianne out of the way. Could you take her on a shopping trip to Plymouth, do you think?’

  Rose bit her lip. ‘It’s such a shame we have to do this.’

  ‘We’re at war. We have no choice. And we also have to survive ourselves.’

  ‘It’s sacrilege, though,’ Rose sighed mournfully. ‘It isn’t what we’ve bred and trained our horses for.’ And she snuggled against her husband for comfort.

  ‘What’s up, Ned?’ the wizened fellow in the stained and threadbare jacket smirked as they moved along the busy Plymouth street. ‘Look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

  Ned’s white lips were too numb to snap at him for using his real name. Indeed, the reprimand scarcely flitted across his mind. Jesus Christ, he had seen a bloody ghost, emerging from the shop opposite. Hair like ravens’ wings cascaded down to her slender waist from beneath a jaunty boater, and he recognized at once that stunningly beautiful face with the violet-blue eyes that snapped with vivacity.

  It was her!

  But it couldn’t be. This girl must be in her twenties, but Rose Chadwick would be sixty or so by now. Ned blinked his eyes. He must be seeing things. But then, following the apparition out of the door, came a second figure, identical but for being that much older and with silver streaking the dark tresses piled beneath a fashionable hat.

  Ned’s eyes bolted from their sockets.

  ‘I’ll have the package delivered to the railway station, Mrs Warrington,’ the shopkeeper smiled as he saw the older woman out of his shop.

  So, it was Mrs Warrington now, was it? The shock was already being driven out of Ned’s heart by the age-old, simmering bitterness. So it was her, after all. She must have remarried and the ghost must be her daughter, the resemblance was so strong. But . . . Rose Chadwick, as was, standing in front of him. Well, well, well. . . .

  All those years since he had returned to Plymouth, he had resisted the temptation to trace what had happened to her. But now, seeing her again, all the jealous resentment rushed at him like a bullet, wounding, making his soul bleed. Was she still living at Fencott Place, cocooned in luxury? If she hadn’t thrown him out when she was widowed, he might have been able to worm his way into her affections, and all that wealth would have been his. And he had loved Rose! But it was astounding how close love could be to hatred when it was rejected. And wouldn’t he love to get his hands on that daughter of hers!

  As Ned dragged himself away, the cogs of his scheming mind began to turn.

  ‘So . . . do you think you’ll enlist?’ Marianne dared to ask.

  The balmy September day was dying and Marianne was leaning on the field gate, arms crossed on the top bar. Beside her, Hal too was staring at the colt they had been training together that afternoon. But Marianne could see that her brother was not really watching the animal’s antics. He was lost in thought and she had a shrewd idea what those thoughts would be.

  It was a moment before he brought himself to speak and Marianne waited patiently. She knew her elder brother well. He wasn’t one to open up his heart readily.

  ‘I’m not in any hurry to join up, no,’ he answered at length, his words slow and pensive. ‘Or to get myself maimed or killed. They’re fools who rush off to the recruitment centres to see a bit of the world as they put it, expecting it all to be over by Christmas. If they had any sense, they’d realize it’s going to drag on for God knows how long. The battles of Mons and the Marne and now the Aisne were hardly walk-overs, were they?’ he concluded with bitter irony.

  Marianne let the silence settle, watching the young horse grazing contentedly before she continued, ‘Are you . . . afraid to go and fight?’ There was no criticism in her voice. Hal was the most gentle, kind fellow, and she sensed he was troubled. She only wanted to help, and talking might do just that. And somehow the time and the place seemed right, swathed as they were in the calm, Dartmoor evening.

  Hal glanced at her sideways. ‘I’d be a liar if I denied it,’ he admitted truthfully. ‘And so would any other man, I’m sure. It’s all very well going down to the recruitment centres with your mates, egging each other on. But when it comes to it, out on the battlefield, you’re on your own and it must be terrifying.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine it must be,’ Marianne agreed quietly. ‘Dad liked being in the cavalry because he was working with horses all the time, but he always says he was glad he was never involved in any real fighting out in India, doesn’t he? That was why he resigned his commission or whatever it was you did in those days. He’d been forced into the army by his family but he really didn’t like the idea of having to kill someone.’

  ‘And the officers’ way of life wasn’t for him. Drinking and playing silly games in the officers’ mess because they were bored stiff.’ Hal paused, his mouth pressing into a thin line. ‘The situation’s pretty different now, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘So . . . don’t you want to do your bit for your country?’ Marianne prompted him after several moments’ silence. ‘That’s what they’re calling it, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Hal raised an agonized eyebrow. ‘And of course I want to defend my country. What Germany’s doing is so wrong, and I’ll go and fight if I have to. Only I’d rather do my bit in other ways. Like with the horses.’

  ‘With the horses?’ Marianne frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Well. . . .’ Hal hesitated, chewing his lip, and Marianne saw the pain in his expression as he turned to her. ‘We wanted to keep it from you as long as possible, but you had to know sooner or later. You see . . . the last batch of trained horses we sold, they . . . they went to the army. And so will the next lot, this chap included,’ he finished, jerking his head at the glorious young colt. ‘We’ve always been on the military register, of course. The subsidy we receive from that is what’s kept the stud-farm a viable business. And now we’re going to be stepping up our breeding and training schedules for the army as well.’

  ‘What!’ An icy coldness trickled through Marianne’s veins, chilling her to the marrow. ‘You mean. . . ?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, sis. And I’m really sorry.’

  Marianne felt the muscles of her chest contract as a horrific thought came into her head. ‘And what about Pegasus? And Hermes?’ sh
e cried out.

  ‘Ah, well, you and Mum are lucky there.’ Hal turned to her with a sombre expression in his eyes. ‘Dad told them in no uncertain terms that they’re our champion studs, so we really need them if we’re to keep our stock going, especially if we have to draft in more brood mares. The army chap wasn’t interested in Hermes so much as he’s getting on a bit, but I have to tell you he was seriously interested in Pegasus for himself.’

  Marianne gawped at her brother as a shard of pain sliced into her breast. Oh, dear God, the idea of her beloved Pegasus being injured or even worse was . . . was simply intolerable. Marianne realized she was trembling even though she managed to swallow down her sudden panic. ‘B-but D-dad definitely said they couldn’t have him?’ she stammered.

  ‘Absolutely. So you don’t need to worry.’

  Marianne nevertheless felt slightly faint as a hot sweat surged through her body. ‘Thank God for that,’ she mumbled in relief. ‘But it still means that all our other beautiful horses are destined for the battlefields. Oh, the poor things.’

  ‘The hunters, undoubtedly. But those that go in harness will be needed for other things, transporting supplies and bringing back wounded men, for instance. They’re sending out all sorts of motor vehicles converted into ambulances, but I’m sure horses will play their part as well.’

  ‘But badly-wounded horses will be shot on the spot, won’t they?’ Marianne’s nerves jangled with fury, but what could she do? The horror of the images that her mind conjured up overwhelmed her with anger and sadness, making her feel unbearably useless. ‘And you said we’ll be increasing our breeding programme,’ she said, battling to keep her frustration in check. ‘So that must mean the government thinks this war could go on for years.’

  ‘Not necessarily. But we’ll need to replenish our stock anyway, if the military are going to take every available horse from us in the short term.’

  ‘Oh!’ Marianne stamped her foot in poorly suppressed rage. ‘How could Dad have possibly agreed to all this?’

  ‘We were on the register, and they’d have found us soon, anyway. And you might not have noticed but business has slumped since the war started, and the scheme gave us a good price. Believe me, it hurt Dad as much as it does you and me. Hadn’t you noticed he’s been a bit quiet recently?’

  Marianne paused to consider, feeling a reluctant acceptance take the place of her shock. ‘Yes. Come to think of it, I suppose he has. But... what about Mum? Does she know?’

  ‘Yes. But, you know, she can be remarkably realistic sometimes. She gave a deep sigh and said that if it helped some of our brave lads stay alive, that was more important. And that’s how we must all look at it.’

  Marianne bit on her lower lip. This wretched war! ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she conceded grudgingly. ‘If our horses can help, well. . . . It just seems so awful. Poor innocent creatures.’

  ‘And we’ll be doing even more than that,’ Hal went on cautiously, trying to gauge his sister’s emotions. ‘There are plans afoot to ship in wild horses from North America. If they do, Dad’s agreed to take some of them on for breaking in. A few dozen at a time, so we’ll have our work cut out. That’s what I meant by doing my bit without going off to fight.’

  ‘Well, I suppose if it keeps you here, that’s one advantage.’

  ‘And we’ll be paid reasonably for our services. I know the whole thing is so awful, but we are at war. And the other thing is that we need to make the horses pay, now more than ever. With the Stock Exchange being closed, our broker can’t make us any money buying and selling shares. And dividends have plummeted since war was declared.’

  ‘Unless you happen to own a factory that can be turned over to ammunition production, I suppose,’ Marianne scoffed with bitter sarcasm. ‘Then you’d be laughing.’

  Hal glanced darkly at his sister. She had taken the news fairly well for her, and it really did mean that he could do important war work without enlisting. After all, much of the responsibility for turning the wild horses into reliable mounts and particularly draught animals would fall on his shoulders, since neither his father nor Joe were getting any younger. His mother and Marianne were bound to be involved as well, seeing as both were such superb horsewomen. But Hal was the youngest male and the one with the greatest strength and stamina, and so the major part of the work would fall to him.

  He noticed now that Marianne had pursed her lips in thought.

  ‘I suppose that until the government decides to reopen the Stock Exchange, you’ll have no excuse to go up to London to see Louise again,’ she said with her usual directness. ‘Or will you go to see her anyway?’

  Hal felt the colour rush into his face, but his sister had never been anything if not blunt. To her, it was a straightforward question that demanded a straightforward answer.

  ‘Not that it’s any business of yours,’ he replied levelly, ‘but yes, I’ll go anyway. At least, if it’s possible. If we do have all these horses coming in, I won’t have much time. And who knows how long this war will go on for, or what it’s going to mean for any of us.’

  Marianne met his gaze for a moment or two, and then downcast her eyes. Hal was absolutely right. The future was uncertain for everyone. She just prayed that at the end of it all, everyone would be together again just as they had at her mother’s party. Ah, that fateful day. While her soaring heart had been shot down in full flight, the world was being turned upside down. . . .

  She brought Pegasus to a halt as they trotted into the farmyard at Rosebank Hall. It was a glorious late October day, and the ride across the moor had been uplifting, the sun shining brilliantly from a clear, powder blue sky and turning the autumn vegetation to burnished gold. It was inconceivable that the country was at war, and yet it most definitely was. Only last week, thousands of Canadian troops and horses had unexpectedly been put ashore at Plymouth because a German U-boat had been spotted near Cherbourg, and it had been deemed unsafe for them to continue their journey by sea. So the convoy had been taken on to its destination of one of the army training camps on Salisbury Plain by road and rail instead.

  First, though, they had paraded through the main streets of Plymouth. It must have been a magnificent sight, and under other circumstances, Marianne would have gone to witness the proceedings. But she still could not bear the thought of such noble creatures being taken into battle, and so she had stayed at home, restless and unhappy.

  The ride across the moor to visit her sister, however, had refreshed Marianne’s spirit. It was a school day so that they would not be hindered by young Adam’s company. Marianne had nothing against the child. Indeed, she thought him rather sensible for his age, if far too serious. But without him, she was hoping to rekindle the carefree times she and Kate had enjoyed before he came along. Now that he was getting older, Kate might not be so mentally absorbed with him even while he was at school!

  ‘Good morning, Marianne! Did you have a good ride over?’

  ‘Hello, Richard!’ Marianne beamed at the elderly man as he strode across the yard. ‘Kate is expecting me, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she’s in the kitchen with Beth. Why don’t you go straight in? I’ll see to Pegasus for you.’

  ‘Would you? Oh, that’s terribly kind.’

  ‘It’ll be a pleasure. But then Philip and I need to go up on the moor and drive down some more sheep for sorting. Josh has taken some of the last lot off to market today.’

  ‘I guess it’s time to start putting the ewes in with the ram, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not brought up on the moor for nothing, were you?’ Richard chuckled as she swung one leg over the horse’s back and landed lightly on her feet. ‘You go on in, and I’ll see you later.’

  Marianne gratefully left Pegasus with him and crossed to the backdoor of the farmhouse. She was soon met with the tantalizing aroma of fresh baking as she went into the kitchen with its massive old table in the centre. From t
he drying rack above, hung bunches of various herbs that gave Beth Pencarrow’s domain a particular smell, and the open shelves were lined with jars containing concoctions of all different colours from deep purple to green and brown. It was always a mystery to Marianne, but Beth was held in high esteem for her herbal remedies which were sought after from far and wide. Even Dr Elliott Franfield recommended their use when there was no other medicine available for certain ailments.

  ‘Marianne, you’re nice and early!’ Kate jumped up from the table and came to give her a hug.

  ‘Good morning, my dear. Expect you’ll be ready for a cup of tea.’

  ‘Yes, please, Beth. It’s a beautiful morning, but it is quite chilly. We should be able to have a lovely walk across the moor, Kate,’ she finished, burning with enthusiasm. ‘We can spend all day, can’t we? Especially as Adam walks home from school on his own, now, doesn’t he? Although I mustn’t leave it too late with the evenings drawing in. I do wish Hal would let me drive his motorcar, and then I wouldn’t have to worry.’

  ‘Oh, you’re not still grumbling about that, are you?’ Kate laughed. ‘One day the poor chap will give in, just to shut you up!’

  Marianne pulled a face at her and then turned to take the cup of steaming tea from Beth. ‘Oh, thank you. That looks lovely.’

  ‘It’s on the weak side, I’m afraid,’ the older woman apologized. ‘You know how people started panic buying when war was first declared, but living up here, I didn’t get a chance to stock up on anything and our little village shop could get hold of so little.’

  ‘They say supplies are getting back to normal now, though, aren’t they?’

  ‘I sincerely hope so because I’m running low on tea. Josh was going to try and get some in Tavistock for me today, mind, so we should be all right again soon.’

  ‘But what if those German U-boat things start to attack our merchant ships?’ Kate asked grimly.

  ‘Well, from what I’ve read, the government seems to think we’ll still hold supremacy over the sea. But if you think about it, with so much of our food being imported, it’d be a good way of bringing the country to its knees.’ Beth gave a concerned sigh. ‘The idea makes me worry about the Bradleys. I know dear Adam doesn’t go to sea any more, but there’s their son, Toby, and their daughter Charlotte’s married to one of their sea captains as well. And, of course, there’s young Michael. It’d break Adam and Becky if anything happened to any of them, and then there’d be the financial loss if any of their ships were lost.’