CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The telegram arrived part way into January as they all sat around the table having lunch.
‘Oh, it’s from Philip,’ Seth announced, slitting it open with his knife. And then Marianne saw his face drain of its colour. ‘Oh, my God,’ he muttered. ‘Oh, no.’ His head twisted on his neck as if he were recoiling from the news contained in the telegram, and he screwed his eyes shut. ‘They’ve all had the flu. But . . . our darling little Valerie. . . .’ The breath shook in and out of his lungs and his mouth contorted into an ugly grimace as tears began to roll down his cheeks. He held out the flimsy paper to whoever had the courage to take it, unable to watch.
Marianne was at a total loss. She had never seen her father actually cry, not even when Hal was killed. Her mother’s face too, had turned white, her mouth gaping open in horror.
Marianne’s senses dropped away. She was all alone, trapped in her own anguish. Her father hadn’t voiced the terrible words, but it was clear what was in the telegram. Marianne didn’t want to believe it, and so it was she who took the note from Seth’s fingers. Someone had to. She must be the one to be strong.
Her eyes scanned the print. Rebellious. Unaccepting. It couldn’t be true, but. . . . A vicious squall of anger plunged through her body. She wanted to lash out, vanquish the truth. But there was nothing to be done.
She watched her mother’s face crumple as she burst into tears with an agonized moan that grew to a crescendo. Seth sprang to his feet, encircled his wife in his arms, and they wept together, inconsolably. Marianne looked on, dry-eyed with shock, and met Albert’s horrified gaze. In all the suffering and death they had seen in France, nothing had affected them as deeply as this. An innocent child. One of their own. It was indescribable.
‘B-but I thought children—’ she stammered, refusing to believe.
‘Seem to have more resilience?’ Albert finished for her, his voice soft and sympathy etched on his face.
‘I must go to Kate at once.’ Marianne was suddenly on her feet, instinct overtaking all else. The idea of doing something practical was a relief from her agony. And surely, despite everything, her sister, her soul-mate, would need her. She stopped then, realizing her mother had lifted her head from Seth’s embrace and had spoken the exact same words at the same time.
Seth exchanged glances with both his wife and his daughter. ‘No, Marianne. You’d be more likely. . . . I don’t really want your mother to go, either, but I know I won’t stop her.’
‘I’ll be careful,’ Rose promised. ‘I’ll wear a mask. Wash my hands every few minutes. I’ll break my journey in Tavistock and ask Elliott’s advice. But they must all . . . the others must more or less be over it by now or else Philip wouldn’t have been able to send the telegram. And Kate needs me. I know you want to go, Marianne,’ Rose said, her tear-filled eyes meeting her younger daughter’s, ‘but it’s best that you don’t. You’re in the age-group that seems to be worst affected. And I know . . . I know what it is to lose a small child.’
Marianne watched in silence as her mother hurried out of the room. Rose never spoke of her lost baby, the grief too deep to bear. Marianne lowered herself back into her chair, and at the touch of Albert’s caring hand on her arm, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Marianne reined Pegasus in from the long canter over the moor, and heard her mother on Captain doing the same just behind her. The gorse was in its full May bloom, canary yellow in the sunshine, its sweet fragrance strong and filling their nostrils with its heady perfume. Marianne waited for Rose to draw level with her and they continued side by side at a walk, Pegasus tossing his head with a snort of disgust that they were heading back home. Mother and daughter chuckled softly at him, and Marianne felt the familiar tranquillity of the moor soothing the very core of her.
‘It’s beginning to feel more as if things really are getting back to normal,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Do you feel that, too?’
Rose made a sucking noise before she answered. ‘Yes, I do. The better weather helps, of course. And time. Life will never be the same for us. Not without Hal. But it’s been nearly three years and I suppose you learn to live with it. But Valerie, she’ll be harder to get over. Such a dear little soul. It’s hard enough for us, but I know what poor Kate’s going through.’
Marianne nodded, her lips bunched pensively. Her mother’s voice had been intense, mesmerizing. It was like old times, the shared closeness, an opening of hearts.
‘Mum,’ Marianne faltered, her heart suddenly pattering nervously, ‘do you think it’s better not to have children in the first place? I mean, if you hadn’t had Alice or Hal, you’d never have had the heartbreak of losing them. Or Kate with Valerie.’
She kept facing front, not daring to look at her mother, half afraid of the words that were coming from her mouth. So the vehemence of Rose’s reply took her by surprise.
‘Oh, no! Alice was with me for such a short time, but I still cherish the memory of every moment I had with her. And Hal. If it hadn’t been for the war. . . . And Kate would say exactly the same about Valerie. Children are a blessing. You know I’m not particularly religious, but they are a gift from God. No one can predict the future and there’s nothing like the joy of bringing new life into the world. And I wouldn’t have had you or Kate.’
Out of the corner of her eye, Marianne saw her mother throw her a questioning glance, but Rose didn’t press her. Had she guessed what Marianne had been thinking – and had been for months? That if she and Albert were to marry, children would be bound to come along? But if there were no children, she would never have to bear the pain of losing them?
She drew air deeply into her lungs and released it in a long sigh. As if it weren’t hard enough agonizing over her long-ago vow which had shaped her entire adult life, her emotions were coloured by what the war and the influenza pandemic had meant to her. There was no doubt in her mind that she loved Albert with all her heart, but the other part of her was twisting her soul into a tangled jumble that she was no nearer unravelling.
They had come to the unmade road that would take them back to Fencott Place. They plodded along side by side, both lost in thought after their conversation, Marianne’s mind deep in turmoil so much so that she was only vaguely aware of the motorcar coming towards them from the direction of Princetown. Normally it would have roused some curiosity in her since virtually no motorized vehicles ever came this way. But now she merely guided Pegasus onto the left-hand verge, Rose also moving to the left beside her but still just on the road itself, so that the car could pass safely. There was plenty of room as the road was wide and so uneven that any vehicles could only proceed very slowly.
Neither woman paid much attention to the situation so it completely dumbfounded them when the car suddenly accelerated and then swerved, hurtling straight towards them. There was no time for panic, let alone to take evasive action. It was the horses that reacted, their animal instincts sharper than the human mind. Quick as lightning, Pegasus bunched his haunches and scrambled up the bank at the side of the road. Marianne was almost unseated, but instantly tightened her knee grip and grabbed Pegasus’s mane so that she somehow managed to stay on. She pulled on the reins, holding Pegasus back as he threatened to bolt. Fear grasped her then as she turned him to see what had happened behind her.
Horror seared into her as she held Pegasus’s prancing body in check. Captain was on the ground, but at that moment, rolled back onto his belly and heaved himself upwards. He walked on a few yards, but trained as he was to cope with noise and frightening situations, he came to a stop and stood patiently, even though he was quivering and blood was running down from a gash on his hind leg. Rose lay on the ground, although to Marianne’s supreme relief, she was starting to sit up. A dozen yards further along the road, the car had crashed into the bank, the front caved in. One front wheel had lodged in a ditch, tipping the vehicle at a strange angle so tha
t the right back end was in the air, the wheel still spinning. There was no sign of any movement from within.
A vision of driving through the air-raids flashed through Marianne’s brain, and she thrust it painfully aside. She was trained to keep calm, but it was difficult when her dear mother was involved. Heart hammering, she slid from Pegasus’s back and dragged him by the reins to where Rose was now sitting up, her face contorted in pain.
‘Mum!’
‘He hit us,’ Rose grated between clenched teeth, her lips drawn back in a grimace of agony. ‘Give me Pegasus’s reins and go and see if Captain’s all right.’
‘He’s got a nasty cut, but I think he’s all right. Wasn’t limping or anything. You’re the one I need to–’
‘No. Captain first,’ Rose insisted.
Reluctantly, Marianne took the few paces to where the bay was standing, still trembling, but he whickered as Marianne came up to him. She walked him back to where her mother was lying, but he didn’t show signs of any great pain.
‘It must have been just a glancing blow.’
‘But enough to knock him off his feet,’ Rose rasped. ‘He rolled on my leg as he went down. I’m sure it’s broken.’
Marianne knew she was shaking. She was trained in First Aid but this was different. She felt utterly alone, but she must pull herself together.
‘Whatever you do, don’t move,’ she instructed. ‘And are you sure you weren’t knocked out, or hurt your back or neck at all?’
‘No, no. It’s just my leg. But you’d better take a look at the driver.’
‘Hardly deserves it,’ Marianne retorted.
‘Go anyway,’ Rose demanded, and bit her lip in another wave of pain.
Marianne twisted her mouth, but she reluctantly obeyed. Whoever it was might have killed them both and the horses and deserved whatever injuries he might have. And she couldn’t be sure but it was almost as if he had deliberately driven into them.
She went up to the car. The driver was still sitting inside, the engine still running. Marianne checked there was no petrol leaking out as she wasn’t going to risk being burnt or caught in an explosion. She had been happy to risk herself for others in France, but not in this situation! But there didn’t appear to be any potential danger, so the first thing she did was open the door and reach across to switch off the engine. It was only then that she looked at the driver’s face.
She gasped aloud. It was him! The devil who had attacked her, set fire to the stables, and doubtless stolen the horses and burgled the house. Marianne could have throttled him then and there. Her fingers itched to do so, but it would be too good for him. The police would lock him up and hopefully throw away the key, and in the meantime, if he was injured, she hoped the pain was excruciating!
His eyes were open, bolting from their sockets, staring at her. There was a split across the bridge of his nose where he had been thrown against the steering-wheel, and blood was trickling down into his mouth. But his right arm was clasped across his chest, his left arm raised and tense as if paralyzed with pain. In fact, he seemed unable to move at all, his face rigid and his breath barely wheezing in and out of his lungs.
‘My heart,’ he croaked in a whisper, barely moving his lips. ‘Pills in my pocket. Is Rose all right? I didn’t mean to hit her. I just . . . wanted to talk. Tell her I’m sorry. For everything.’
Marianne stared at him, flabbergasted. Rose? Did he know her mother? ‘Who the hell are you?’ she demanded, ready to shake him.
‘Ned,’ he rasped, scarcely audible. ‘She’ll know. My pills. Please,’ he begged.
Marianne glared at him through eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. In the most appalling moment of her life, she hovered over an abyss of torment. She wanted to leave him to die. Yet she knew it was wrong and that would make her as bad as him. With shaking fingers and utterly repulsed, she searched his pockets until she found a small bottle of pills. She unscrewed the lid and closed his fingers around the bottle. If he wanted them that badly, he would have to take them himself.
She left him then and ran back to her mother, her mind staggering. ‘He said his name’s Ned,’ she told Rose in bewilderment. ‘He said you’d know. I think he lost control of the car because he’s having a heart attack. He says he just wanted to talk. Mum,’ she hesitated only briefly, ‘it’s him. The arsonist. And it is the same man who attacked me.’
She watched, incredulous, as her mother’s face lengthened in disbelief. ‘Ned?’ she repeated. ‘Good God! He disappeared forty years ago.’
‘B-but who is he?’
‘Not now, Marianne.’ Rose’s face suddenly seemed old. ‘Go and get help.’
‘Yes, but be careful. If he manages to get out of the car and comes over to you—’
‘Don’t worry. I can handle Ned. Always could. Now go.’
Still unsure, Marianne obeyed. But it was the only thing to do. She swung herself into the saddle and urged Pegasus homeward.
That evening, Marianne sat by Rose’s bedside. She had alerted her father, and while he and Joe hurried out to the scene of the accident, she rode like the wind into Princetown to send a telegram to Elliott down in Tavistock. By the time she returned, Seth was sitting on the ground, comforting Rose as they waited for Elliott to drive up to them. Joe was standing by the open door of the motorcar, his face stiff with hatred as he watched the driver breathe his last.
Now Rose was sitting comfortably in bed, her lower left leg in plaster, what was now a dull ache eased with aspirin. Marianne was amazed how calm she was, but that was her mother. So strong.
‘Ned was a stable boy in Princetown,’ Rose explained slowly. ‘He used to look after Gospel for me whenever I went there to visit Molly. You know Gospel will always be my favourite horse, but he was a devil sometimes, especially with Ned. I used to tease Ned about it. But I could hardly say we were ever friends. Not from my side, anyway. Ned was always one for the girls, but I’d always eluded him. I never led him on, but it was a bit of a game and I suppose, looking back, he must have resented it. Then, when I married Charles, he employed Ned as our groom. I was horrified. I wanted Joe, but Charles didn’t like the way Joe and I were friends. He believed servants were inferior beings and should be kept apart. He didn’t know I already knew Ned, of course. When I told him I wasn’t keen on Ned, he was pleased as it meant I wouldn’t fraternize with him. But Ned was always trying to fraternize with me. I often had to fight him off, but I knew that if I said anything, Charles wouldn’t believe me. He was a very jealous sort, Charles. And then it was Ned who betrayed your father to the authorities. I’d managed to trick both Ned and Charles for weeks, and when Ned did realize, I think that riled him even more. That I’d fooled him for so long, and right under his nose. All the rest, you know. But when Charles died, one of the first things I did was to dismiss Ned, and I’d not seen hide nor hair of him since. Until today. I can only think that his anger had been festering all those years and he decided to try and get even.’
‘But all those terrible things he did to us. He could have burnt the house down with Albert still inside.’
‘I know. But he always had a chip on his shoulder. And jealousy can twist a man’s mind. And who knows what sort of life he’d been leading all this time, and blaming me for it. But . . .’ Rose turned her smile on her daughter, as stunningly beautiful as ever. ‘It’s over now. We need to rebuild our lives. Kate seems to be settling well in London. I think a new way of life will help with her grief over our darling Valerie, and Philip does seem to be salvaging something of our affairs, for which we are exceedingly grateful. So now we need to see you settled, my dear.’
Marianne gave her mother a wan smile. It had all been a great deal to take in, part of her parents’ lives she had never known about. After the trauma of the day, the conflict that was tearing her apart was the last thing on her mind.
A month later, Captain Adam Bradley die
d peacefully in his sleep at the family home in Herefordshire, shortly after his eighty-second birthday. It should not have come as any surprise to the Warringtons, since dear Adam’s health had been failing for some time. Nevertheless, Rose and Marianne both wept for the loss of their cherished friend, and Seth was stone-faced with grief. Even the dogs sensed their sadness, noses on paws as they lay on the floor, their eyes looking up dolefully. Albert put his arm around Marianne’s shoulders, and she was intensely grateful for his comfort.
‘I never met the man, of course,’ he said gravely, ‘but you all always spoke of him with such respect and affection.’
‘He was,’ Marianne hiccupped between sobs, ‘a sort of patriarch to us all. So kind and yet fearsome in his beliefs for justice.’
‘You know how he and I campaigned for raising the age of consent, and then for an appeal system for convicted criminals,’ Seth went on. ‘Well, he was the one with the connections, the tireless strength.’
‘And now I can’t even go to his funeral,’ Rose moaned, ‘not with this stupid leg in plaster.’
‘But I can,’ Seth stated adamantly, coughing painfully as he got to his feet.
‘No, you can’t,’ protested Rose. ‘Not when your chest is so bad again.’
‘But Adam saved my life all those years ago!’
‘Then he’d hardly want you to risk it again by going on a long journey when you’re not at all well.’
‘I can go,’ Marianne announced, sniffing as she brought her sorrow under control. ‘Sarah and Misha are bound to be going, and probably Richard and Beth, and Ling and Elliott, too, so I can travel with them. And then, didn’t you say Becky mentioned having a memorial down at Morwellham?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Rose nodded, glancing down at the letter in her hand.
‘Well, we can all go to that. And it will be much more appropriate. Morwellham meant so much to them. And I can represent us all at the funeral.’
Seth rubbed his hand over his forehead and let out a deep sigh as he sat back down again. ‘Yes, I suppose so. But it grieves me deeply.’
Teardrops in the Moon Page 22
