by Rosie Harris
‘I will be home in the holidays, silly!’ Ruth argued.
As they made lists, Helen was far more practical. She knew they had to consider some place where Adam would be able to find work. She didn’t want to live in a big town, not with a new baby, but neither did she want anywhere that was too isolated.
They finally short-listed half-a-dozen places and Helen folded up the maps and put them away.
‘I think we’ve spent enough time on this,’ she told them both.
‘Dad’ll be the one who has the final choice, anyway,’ Ruth said flatly.
‘Perhaps he’ll decide to stay on in the Army after all,’ Mark said hopefully.
‘I don’t think he’s even considered it,’ Helen said. ‘Anyway, he’s too old to keep his job as Training Sergeant.’
‘He could always do something else,’ Mark persisted.
‘Well, he might be able to become a Recruiting Officer, I suppose,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘Where would he be sent then?’ Mark asked.
‘Almost anywhere in the country, though probably to one of the larger towns or cities, of course.’
‘Perhaps London,’ Ruth suggested.
‘I wouldn’t want to live there,’ Helen said quickly.
‘Would he be able to choose?’ Mark asked.
‘I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it until now. Perhaps we’d better wait until your dad gets back from Norfolk. He mightn’t go along with such an idea.’
‘Then again he might,’ Mark insisted. ‘After all, he does like the Army …’
‘You mean you do,’ Ruth interrupted him. ‘I don’t think we should mention the recruiting job to Dad, not now that he has decided to leave the Army and find some other kind of work.’
‘That’s enough.’ Helen said firmly. ‘Mark, take these maps back upstairs.’
‘OK. Just a minute – there’s someone knocking.’
Ruth was already opening the door and Helen looked up in surprise, as Captain Bishop, Adam’s Commanding Officer, and Bill Blackstaff, the RSM, both in uniform, came into the room. She saw at a glance that both men looked uneasy.
‘Has something happened?’ she asked in alarm.
‘We’ve bad news,’ Captain Bishop said gruffly. ‘It’s about your husband …’ he hesitated, looking at the RSM.
‘There’s been an accident on the range,’ Bill Blackstaff said in a level voice. ‘Adam was demonstrating the use of hand-grenades … you know the drill. The lads practise with dummies until they’ve learned how to take the pin out. Then they have to use a live one …’
‘Oh no! Oh my God!’ Helen clung to the table, white-faced and trembling. It was the sort of mishap she had always dreaded might happen.
Captain Bishop moved quickly, reaching out to steady her as she swayed.
‘I’m all right,’ Helen said quietly. She felt for a chair and sat bolt upright on the edge of it, still holding onto the table. ‘Please go on,’ she said in a low, tight voice.
The two men exchanged glances before Captain Bishop took up the story. ‘They had just started using live grenades. The first two or three were operated quite smoothly, then one chap fumbled with his, dropped it … right at your husband’s feet …’
‘And it exploded.’
He nodded.
‘And Adam?’ she whispered.
‘He took the full force … it was instantaneous …’
Helen stared from one man to the other. Their faces swam before her, merged into one, then gradually receded further and further away into a black void. From somewhere far off she could hear a woman crying, a shrill keening sound that splintered the silence and then echoed away into blackness.
Chapter 16
‘According to the rule book, we can let you stay on in this house for another three months. That should give you time to make other arrangements.’
Helen stared at Captain Street, the Families’ Officer, in dismay. For a moment she wondered if she had heard correctly. It was only a week since Adam’s funeral and it seemed that already the Army’s relentless machinery was in motion.
‘I do appreciate that in your case three months may be rather difficult, so we might manage to give you an extension …’ As his voice trailed away he looked at her from under hooded lids, as he tapped his well-tailored khaki-clad leg with his drill stick.
Helen’s hands involuntarily went to her swollen body as if to protect her unborn child.
‘Have you any family … somewhere you and your children can go?’
Helen shook her head. There was only Aunt Julia and she was now in her sixties, too old and set in her ways to have her home invaded by a young family.
‘Where did you live when you were first married?’ Captain Street persisted. ‘We might be able to get you a council house there.’
‘It was wartime, and Adam was already in the Army, so we didn’t have a home of our own when we were first married,’ Helen told him.
‘I see.’ He pulled on his lower lip thoughtfully. ‘And where did you live as a child … that might be worth a try.’
‘Sturbury. It’s a village. There are only six council houses there so I don’t think I stand much chance of getting one of those.’
‘I see.’
She stood up, squaring her shoulders, a hand pressed to the small of her back to ease the ache. ‘I’ll think of something, Captain Street,’ she said, determinedly.
Relieved, he picked up his cap and gloves from the table and gave her a thin smile. ‘Good! Good! That’s what I like to hear. Come to me if you have any problems.’ He raised his drill stick in a salute as he departed.
Helen smiled fixedly until she had closed the door, then she went back into the sitting-room, collapsed into an armchair and was overcome by a paroxsym of violent sobbing. It was the first time she had cried since she had been told Adam was dead.
Afterwards, she felt completely drained, then, as her mind cleared, she sat late into the night, trying to plan their future.
As the hands of the clock crept towards midnight, and the sheets of paper on which she had been trying to work out some kind of budget covered the table, she knew there was nothing for it but to see if Aunt Julia could help. It was the hardest phone call she had ever had to make.
‘If you could just let us stay with you for a few weeks … a month perhaps …’
‘Stay as long as you wish, my dear. I’ve always told you that my home is yours. When will you arrive?’
‘I don’t know … I’m still confused …’
‘Shall I come and help you pack?’ Aunt Julia offered.
‘No … no. I can manage. Ruth and Mark will help.’
‘I’m afraid you and Ruth will have to share a bedroom,’ Aunt Julia said apologetically. ‘And Mark will have to sleep in the boxroom. It’s very small … still, if it’s only temporary then I don’t suppose he’ll mind too much.’
‘Aunt Julia, it’s only fair to tell you now … there’s something you don’t know.’
‘Oh, what’s that?’
‘I … I’m expecting a baby.’
The silence on the line seemed interminable. Helen tried desperately to think of something else to say, but the words caught in her throat. From a long way off she heard her Aunt’s voice ask rather queruously, ‘Helen, I did hear you rightly … you did say a baby?’
‘Yes, in about three months’ time.’
‘Oh, my dear! Well, in that case, I suppose the sooner you come and settle in the better. I had no idea … oh, you poor child. This news has come as a shock.’
‘I was wondering if it might be better if I stayed on here until after the baby was born.’
‘You must do whatever you think is best.’
‘If Ruth and Mark could come to you when it’s time for me to go into hospital …’
‘Yes, of course, if that would help.’
At first Ruth was distressed to think her mother would be left to go into hospital on her own.
‘
I’ll be all right,’ Helen assured her. ‘I’ll worry less if I know you are with Aunt Julia than I would do if I had to leave you and Mark here to look after yourselves.’
‘But you’ll have no visitors!’
‘I’ll only be there for a few days.’
‘But all our things … moving and that,’ Mark protested. ‘You won’t feel like doing it when you come out of hospital.’
‘I shall do it all beforehand,’ Helen explained. ‘Look, we’ll begin sorting things out right away. We can send all our books, ornaments and personal possessions on ahead to Aunt Julia’s. Then, when I’m ready to go into hospital, you two can pack your clothes and go on ahead and I’ll follow with the baby.’
‘What about handing over the quarters? You’ll never feel up to coping with the inspection!’
‘Don’t worry. I don’t intend to comply. It’s not as though we are ever going to need other quarters. I’ll post the key back after I get to Aunt Julia’s and they can send me a bill for any loss or damage when they check the inventory.’
Once she had made her plan, Helen stuck to it with grim determination. Her timing was perfect. Ruth and Mark had just phoned from Aunt Julia’s to let her know they had arrived safely, when her pains started. Calmly, she phoned for a taxi to take her to hospital.
Lucy, weighing six pounds, three ounces, arrived in the early hours of the following morning. When she was discharged, Helen took a taxi back to married quarters.
‘Could you help me collect some cases?’ she asked the driver when they pulled up outside.
When he had taken them out to the cab she slammed the front door shut and followed him, without even a backward glance.
‘Where to now?’ the cabby asked in surprise.
‘Waterloo Station.’
‘Cor, you leaving him then?’ he asked, pushing his cap back on his head.
‘No. There’s no one to leave … only the Army.’
He stared at her for a minute, then gradually began to comprehend. He put the cab in gear and his eyes, as they met hers in the driving mirror, were full of understanding.
Aunt Julia was relieved to see her. She fussed over the baby, worrying unnecessarily about whether there was going to be room in the bedroom for the cot, and if they would be able to get a pram into the hall.
‘We haven’t even got a cot or a pram,’ Helen told her.
‘Where’s she going to sleep … and how will you take her out!’ Aunt Julia exclaimed.
‘For the moment, I’ll use the carrycot.’
‘Oh, poor little mite!’ Aunt Julia said sadly.
‘Rubbish! It’s lovely and comfortable. She slept in it all the way from London.’
‘Well, I suppose you know best. These modern ideas …’
It quickly became apparent to Helen that living at Willow Cottage wasn’t going to work out. Years of being on her own had made Aunt Julia very set in her ways. Helen tried not to upset her aunt’s routine, but it wasn’t easy. Ruth and Mark were irritated by her criticisms of their clothes, they both missed their friends, and Mark resented always being told to turn down the sound whenever he played his Beatles’ records.
‘It’s only for a few weeks, just until the money side of things is settled,’ Helen told them. ‘Once I know how much pension we are entitled to, then I can start looking for somewhere for us to live.’
‘Why can’t we look now?’ Mark argued.
‘Because at the moment I don’t know what we can afford.’
In an attempt to give Aunt Julia time on her own, Helen took them out on long walks. Ruth and Mark enjoyed visiting the places she had known as a child, and listening to her anecdotes about them.
It was on one of these expeditions, when she was showing them Bulpitts, and telling them about her time as a nurse there during the war, when it was a military hospital, that they met Donald Brady.
She had been unlatching the side gate when a voice said, rather sternly, ‘This is private property, you know.’
She looked in astonishment at the burly, red-faced man in a tweed jacket, riding breeches and high-legged brown leather boots who was addressing her.
As her gaze met that of the man with the angry, close-set hazel eyes, she recognised him immediately. Even though his hair had receded at the temples, it still crowned his head like a flat, brown skull-cap. Once he realised who she was he seemed overjoyed to see her, and his severe expression dissolved into a beaming smile.
‘I was going to show Ruth and Mark the Silent Pool … I never thought about trespassing,’ she apologised.
‘Well, you wouldn’t be trespassing, now would you!’ Donald grinned. ‘Why don’t you let them go and find it for themselves, while we go back to the house for coffee? I usually stop for one about this time of the morning. It will give us a chance to catch up with each other’s news.’
‘When the war ended, and I came home from the POW camp,’ Donald told her as they sat in the huge kitchen, ‘I spent a few years in Canada. Then I decided that since Bulpitts was now mine I might as well farm as do anything else.’
‘What about Isabel? Aunt Julia told me she had married and was living in Australia.’
‘That’s right. I hear from her at Christmas … and on my birthday. She’s got three boys … seems happy enough.’
‘And you … you’re married?’
Donald shook his head. ‘The girl I’d set my heart on married someone else.’ His look spoke volumes and she felt herself colouring.
‘And you?’ he said enquiringly. ‘I see you have two very fine children …’
‘Three!’ she indicated the carrycot at her feet.
Donald looked down in surprise to where Lucy lay sound asleep. ‘Good heavens! I thought that was a picnic hamper. There’s not a sound coming from her!’
‘She’ll be awake soon and then you’ll change your opinion,’ Helen laughed.
‘How old is she?’
‘Just over three weeks.’
‘Three weeks … but you said Adam was dead …’ his hand went out and covered hers. ‘Helen, what happened?’
She shook her head, fighting back the tears. ‘Adam was killed in an accident almost four months ago.’
‘So he never saw her?’
She shook her head, unable to speak. It was the first time she had spoken about Adam’s death to anyone outside the family and it was as if she was ripping away a protective covering from an open wound.
Donald’s hand grasped hers again, his hazel eyes full of concern.
‘And you’re staying at Willow Cottage … all of you?’
‘Until we find something to rent. You haven’t got a spare cottage, have you, Donald?’
He shook his head. ‘I haven’t got a spare cottage but there’s plenty of room here …’
‘No, I was only joking!’ Abruptly she pulled her hand away. ‘I … I’ve got things planned,’ she said quickly.
Donald looked at her in silence for a moment, then he said with slow deliberation, ‘This is a big house, Helen. I rattle around it living here as I do all on my own. You are more than welcome to come and stay … for just as long as you like. Think about it. It must be very cramped living at Willow Cottage. You can’t be very comfortable.’
‘We can manage.’
‘Your other two are practically grown up; they need space, their own rooms,’ he went on persuasively as if she had not spoken. ‘Give it some thought. Move in when you like, there’s enough room for your furniture …’
‘We don’t have any … we lived in furnished quarters.’
‘Couldn’t be better then, now could it? Here’s Ruth and Mark coming. What about asking them?’
‘No … please, Donald. Give me time to think about it,’ she pleaded.
Aunt Julia’s look of delight when Helen mentioned Donald’s offer decided the issue. Ruth and Mark were thrilled at the prospect.
‘Think he’ll let me drive his tractor?’ Mark asked eagerly.
‘I’d sooner learn to
ride one of the horses,’ Ruth said with a sigh.
‘Wonder if I’ll be able to go fishing in that lake?’ Mark said wistfully. ‘Dad would have loved Bulpitts.’
‘He did quite like it. It was where we met,’ Helen explained. ‘I told you it was a military hospital during the war. Well, your father was a patient here and I was one of the nurses.’
‘How romantic!’ Ruth’s grey eyes became dreamy.
‘So how do you know Donald Brady then?’ Mark asked.
‘He lived at Bulpitts before the war and I lived in the village. We used to play together …’
‘Oh, so that’s why he said we could all go and live there,’ Ruth said flatly. ‘I though he’d fallen madly in love with you the moment he saw you … it’s not really as romantic as I’d thought.’
‘There’s nothing romantic about it at all,’ Helen told her sharply. ‘If we go there to live then it will be a business arrangement … as Donald’s housekeeper.’
‘Housekeeper!’ Mark and Ruth looked at her in horror. ‘You mean you’re going to work for him?’
‘How else will we earn our keep?’ she asked quietly.
‘I thought you were going to live with each other. I’m sure he’s crazy about you, Mum,’ Ruth insisted. ‘I can tell from the way he looks at you.’
‘You can stop that ridiculous talk right away,’ Helen snapped. ‘If we move into Bulpitts it will be as a working arrangement and nothing else.’
Donald looked as disappointed as Ruth when Helen told him her intention.
‘If that’s the way it has to be then I must accept your terms,’ he said quietly. ‘I hope one day you’ll really want to make it your home.’
She turned away quickly, unable to stand the hurt look in his eyes when he was being so kind to her. His words had brought back to her unpleasant memories of the night before he had joined the RAF, and she knew her feelings for him remained unchanged. Apart from that, no one could ever take Adam’s place. Theirs had been the perfect marriage and her love for him was as strong now as when he’d been alive.
