By the time the doctor came Robbie’s face was a better colour, and his breathing much easier. The doctor was bluff and cheery. ‘You’ll feel a lot better now you’ve got all that off your chest, young man. Stay in bed for a few days to get your strength back. I’ll be round again in the morning.’
Next day the doctor told Robbie firmly he must give up smoking. My brother accepted his decree, and although he was edgy and irritable for a few days he agreed his breathing was much better for it. By the time he came downstairs he looked fitter than he had done for months; I felt so relieved. Now he had got rid of the infected pus his lungs could begin to heal.
Robbie was able to walk in the square gardens by the time Conan came to say his formal goodbyes. Mother sat very upright as she wished him good luck; her face and her voice never faltered – sometimes I had to admire her. My own eyes were full of tears, but I did not let them spill over. I hoped my cousin would find what he wanted in China.
Guy went next. He had accepted a position as ADC to the Governor-General in Canada. He had told me he could not settle in England now – and London made him bad-tempered. I knew how he felt. Pansy was content to go with him wherever he wanted: her round blue eyes followed him everywhere, and her face lit up at every remark he made to her. My brother was very gentle with her now. She told me she wanted another child, but Guy said four children in four years were already too many for her – she must have a rest. ‘But I’ve been either carrying his child or nursing his baby for so long now, Helena, that I feel quite lost – I like to have part of him with me, always.’ She spoke with such simple child-like faith that I suspected Nanny would be engaging yet another new nursemaid before very long.
Before he left England, Guy said to me, ‘Helena, if you can, take Robbie back to Hatton – London’s not doing him any good.’
I knew he was right, so I spoke to Robbie that evening. He sighed, then he said, ‘Yes, Helena, we’ll go back – just the two of us – it’ll be like old times, won’t it?’ He tried to smile, but we both knew that in the old times there had been three of us. He swallowed painfully, ‘God, Hellie how I miss him – three years, and I still miss him every hour of my life. We were part of each other.’ I sat with his hand in mine as we remembered our brother.
Mother was annoyed at first when we told her we were going back before the end of the Season. ‘But the staff are all in London and Hatton’s under dustsheets – it’s most inconvenient, Helena.’
Robbie began to speak, then a fit of coughing caught hold of him. We sat by helplessly, and as soon as he had wheezed into silence Mother said, ‘I can manage without Mrs Hill – I’ll send her back ahead of you, with the head kitchenmaid. I gather she’s quite competent – no doubt she’ll jump at the experience, it’ll stand her in good stead later. I’ll see that her wages are raised over that period – remember that, Helena, when you’re running a household of your own. I hear so many fools of women complaining about the servant problem – but I’ve never had a servant problem and I never will because I pay for good service. Always be prepared to do the same, it’s well worth the few pounds a year extra.’
I said meekly, ‘Yes, Mother,’ and wondered whether she would have advocated treating Chinese servants in the same way.
‘That footman who’s been valeting you, Robbie – John, is that his name? He can go too. Mrs Hill will see to everything else; I’ll ring for her now.’
We left London at the beginning of the second week in July, just after the great peace celebrations. At Euston, John took charge of all our luggage, and Norah hurried along beside him with my jewel case safely chained to her wrist; I strolled down the platform with Robbie, carrying my parasol. Robbie had been much better these past few days, and now I was going home to Hatton with him – at last the world was getting back to normal.
It was very peaceful at Hatton; we walked in the gardens and sat together in the sun. At teatime we would saunter to the summerhouse and wait for John to arrive with the tea tray. I would lift the elegant silver pot and watch the delicate amber stream flow into the fine white porcelain – it was a far cry from the mahogany brew and thick china crockery of the last four and a half years. For a moment I would think that those years had been nothing more than a nightmare – then I would see my slim young brother reach for his stick, and hear the catch in his breath as he slowly rose to his feet – and I knew that the nightmare had been real.
But by the time the Season ended and my parents and Letty came back, Robbie’s breathing had improved in the fresh country air – he coughed less frequently, and he could walk further. Guests arrived and departed – I was glad when it was time for them to leave; my tongue had never been fluent in the easy chit-chat of Society, and now it creaked like a gate in want of oil. For years my conversation had been confined to the narrow familiar world of hospital and camp – now it could not break out again. My mother became impatient and told me I should forget the war – but how could I, when every difficult breath Robbie took and every slow movement he made was a constant reminder? And when Eddie lay dead in the churchyard at Lostherne, and I had to brace myself before I could enter the orangery?
My brother was more adept than I. He laughed and joked and even flirted with the short-skirted narrow-hipped little flappers Letty brought home with her. I felt rather jealous of them – they had been born too late for the war and it had not cast its long shadow over their lives. In September, when Ralph Dutton came up to stay, Robbie drove out to the butts and spent the morning shooting partridges at the stand between Ralph and Letty. I went out at lunchtime and my brother’s eyes were shining – propped casually on his shooting stick he looked his old self again and my heart lifted. But as I left, I walked past the game cart with its racks of bloody corpses and the sight of it made me feel very sick. I did not go out to the butts again.
A couple of days before Ralph was due to leave, Robbie came into the music room while I was practising. He sat down beside the piano and when I had finished my scales he said casually, ‘You know, old Ralph thinks a lot of you, Hellie.’
‘I like him, too – he’s so easy to talk to.’
‘But no more than that?’
I looked at my brother in surprise. ‘Should there be more than that?’
Robbie shook his head. ‘I didn’t think there was, but – well, Ralph wanted me to ask.’ I felt the blush rising to my cheeks as I understood. ‘Shall I give him any hope, Hellie – perhaps tell him to wait and see?’ Robbie’s dark eyes were steady.
But I did not need to think about it. ‘No, Robbie – I like Ralph a lot, but – no.’
‘I’ll tell him, then – he didn’t want to be a nuisance.’ He gave a wry grin. ‘You know, Ralph’s one of the best, but – still, I suppose no brother thinks another man’s good enough for his own sister.’
The rail strike early in October disrupted one of Mother’s house parties and she was furious. She was even more angry when Letty announced her support for the strikers. Mother’s colour rose as she attacked Letty in short, biting sentences, and I cringed – but Letty stayed stolidly calm and insisted on propounding the basic tenets of socialism until Mother sprang to her feet and left – with an audible slam of the drawing-room door. Papa mopped his brow and looked at Letty with something approaching awe.
The following week he left for Scotland with Lady Maud, and Mother departed for the Riviera, to stay at Sir Ernest’s villa there. It was almost like old times again, except that now it was my sister who was cramming for Cambridge. She went into Hareford every morning to work with a retired schoolmaster there, and sat over her books in the evening. Robbie said, ‘Good God, Letty, you don’t have to work that hard – they’re not very fussy, you know.’
Letty glanced up. ‘They might not be, but I am. What I do I do properly.’ She made another note in her small neat handwriting. As she did it she looked absurdly like Uncle Arnold, when he came on a visit and sat in the library poring over his ministerial dispatches. I caught Robbie’s eye an
d knew the same thought was going through his mind. We smiled at each other in shared amusement.
Robbie spent time at the desk in his room, too; I put my hand on his shoulder and noticed the letter he was reading – it was an appeal for help. His face flushed, then he said, ‘A lot of the men are not finding it easy – since Ralph’s a regular now he passes things on to me. Goodness knows, I’ve got more than I’ll ever be able to spend – it might as well benefit some other poor blighter who’s in trouble.’ He reached for his pen and I squeezed his shoulder and slipped away.
His Colonel had written a history of my brothers’ battalion; as he finished each chapter he sent the manuscript on to Robbie, who checked it through diligently. I said to him one day, ‘Oh Robbie – do you have to do that – doesn’t it bring it all back?’
He looked up at me. ‘You know, Helena – it’s a funny thing, but that’s all I seem to be interested in these days – the war. When Ralph came up I really enjoyed thrashing things over with him – and I miss the men.’ He bent over the sheets again.
The local doctor had long chats with him every time he came up to listen to Robbie’s chest. Dr Craig was a big-boned Scot and Robbie usually brought him down to the small drawing room for tea when he had finished his examination, but although he conscientiously addressed a few commonplace remarks about the weather in my direction I sensed he disapproved of me for some reason. I did not mind because his visits cheered Robbie up, so as soon as I had poured the tea I would retreat to a corner with my music scores while they sat over their buttered crumpets, yarning. But once I heard Dr Craig saying ‘And then they sent me back to the St John’s Hospital in Étaples.’
I looked up, surprised. ‘How curious – we were alongside them then.’
He stared at me. ‘What were you doing at Étaples, my lady?’ His tone was almost rude, and I flushed in embarrassment. .
Robbie said quietly, ‘Helena’s entitled to her active-service ribbons, Craig, just like you and I. She was nursing all the way through, from September 1914 – and nearly three years of that in France.’
The doctor’s face changed, and he said very formally, ‘Then I owe you an apology, my lady.’ I did not understand what he meant, but he shook my hand very vigorously when he left, and his manner towards me after that was much warmer.
The stables at Hatton were full again now, and Papa had bought a new mare for my use; she was coal black and lively and I called her Gavotte. I took her out when the Cheshire Hunt met at Hatton – it was a fine autumn day, my blood raced and Gavotte went beautifully. But as I galloped down a slope and saw the pack gaining inexorably on the small frantic tan body I felt a wave of revulsion. I was there at the kill, but I turned my mare aside and walked her into a copse and only just managed to slide off her back before I was violently sick. Dr Craig rode up to me and sprang from his horse. ‘Are you all right, my lady?’ I looked up into his bony face and then turned my eyes back to the yapping hounds. I was crying. He spoke quite gently. ‘Aye, you’d best get back to your brother.’ He cupped his hands for my foot and I mounted and rode back to Hatton. I did not hunt again.
Chapter Three
As soon as we had come back to Hatton I had arranged a weekly lesson with Madame Goldman in Manchester, and as the autumn wore on I fell into a habit of singing to Robbie before tea; he liked to lie back in his chair and listen, and sometimes he fell asleep. I was glad when he did, because now that the colder weather had come he was often awake at night, coughing.
In mid November Mother came back from France and assembled a large house party. Mary Eames came with a streaming cold and Robbie caught it. I was furious with her as I tended my feverish brother upstairs. Dr Craig came twice a day and we slipped easily into the nurse-doctor relationship. Although Robbie was very weak he did seem to be coughing less now, and I was glad of that. Cooper detailed John to sit outside the bedroom to wait on us; the young footman was cheerful and willing, and I felt that Robbie could safely be left in his care while I went down for my meals. When I came back one evening they were playing cards together; John jumped up, his face very red, but I told him to sit down and carry on with his game. I took out a pair of Robbie’s socks that I was darning and it was very cosy in the warm bedroom, with just the quiet murmur of voices from the two men. I slept in Robbie’s dressing room with the door open, and if he was restless I would get up and sing him lullabies – they usually worked and sent him back to sleep again.
But one night he was very hot and uncomfortable, and I had to send for the doctor; as soon as he arrived Robbie went into a paroxysm of coughing and began to bring up the foul sputum again. It eased him at once, but he was still coughing up more pus, so Dr Craig and I worked out the best position for Robbie to lie in, and by the third morning he had brought up all the poison; his breathing became easier and his temperature went down. Soon he was able to get out of bed and sit up in the chair in his bedroom. But I was still angry with Mary Eames – her carelessness had given my brother a very unpleasant week.
Papa had put a head round the door each morning: ‘How’s the invalid today? Better? Good, good. Mustn’t let the draught in.’ His head disappeared again. Mother came in for fifteen minutes before the dressing bell every evening and sat very straight while she retailed the gossip of the day. She was careful never to smoke in Robbie’s room, and I was grateful for that. Letty had gone down with Mary’s cold as well, so she stayed away.
It was December by the time Robbie was downstairs again, and Letty was already planning her Christmas presents. She asked me to go with her to Manchester one Saturday – I knew she only wanted my company because if I went too, Papa would let us have the Delaunay-Belleville – but Robbie was busy with his battalion history and I was at a loose end, so I agreed.
As soon as we turned out of the park gates Letty leant forward and rapped on the glass partition. Barnes pulled up, but before he could get round to open the door my sister had jumped out and was heading for the driving seat. The chauffeur got back in beside her. I slid back the glass to protest, but it was too late. ‘It’s all right, Hellie – Barnes has been teaching me.’ The car gave two massive judders and then surged forward; I sat back in resignation – Letty was so stubborn it was a waste of time arguing with her.
Once under way she began to chat to the chauffeur – the conversation centred on cams and crankshafts and I did not understand a word of it – but I noticed that although Barnes spoke politely enough it was with an ease of manner he never displayed to Mother or to myself. As we ran into Altrincham Letty demanded, ‘Light me a fag, Barnes.’ He took out his own packet of Woodbines, put one in his mouth, lit it – and passed it to my sister. She thrust it between her lips: ‘Thanks.’ As soon as we had left the car at the Royal Exchange I rounded on my sister. ‘Letty – you should never do that!’
‘Do what?’ She looked at me in surprise. ‘Come on, Hellie, I wasn’t that bad – the bus did cut me in, and I barely touched it anyway.’
‘I’m not talking about your driving – but Barnes – that cigarette…’
‘But Helena, I could hardly take my hands off the wheel, and you don’t smoke now – oh, I see – you think I was being too familiar?’
I said firmly, ‘Yes, far too familiar.’
‘For God’s sake, Helena – they’re all human beings, just the same as us.’
‘I know that, but they are servants – you should keep them at a proper distance.’
Letty stopped dead and turned to me. ‘Helena, you amaze me, you really do. You must have spent years wiping the backsides of men like Barnes – perhaps you even did wipe Barnes’ backside, I know he was wounded at Arras – and then you come out with a comment like that, and sound just like Mother.’
I flushed, but I knew I was right. ‘Letty, it’s most unwise…’
She interrupted me: ‘If you think I’m going to elope with Barnes – like that stupid Derlinger female and her chauffeur, then you can think again. If you’d ever bothered to stop and tal
k to him like a human being you’d know he’s head over heels about a girl in Hareford – he’s invited me to the wedding. Come on, let’s see what Kendal’s can offer in the way of useless gew-gaws.’ My cheeks were burning as I followed Letty – I was right, but what she had said had made me feel rather ashamed – I had not known that Barnes was getting married, nor even that he had been wounded at Arras.
When we came out of Kendal’s later there was rather a crush on the pavement. We drew back a little – a group of young men were passing – working men in their Saturday afternoon best. I gazed at their flat cloth caps without really looking, until one of the caps lifted. I shifted my gaze lower, to a large brown moustache – there must be someone behind me he was acknowledging. The man hesitated, then moved on, and as he did so something about the set of his shoulders tugged at my memory. I spoke uncertainly, ‘Ben – Ben Holden?’ He swung round so quickly he bumped into a boy behind him, and I saw that it was indeed Ben Holden. I smiled, ‘Goodness, I didn’t recognize you with that moustache – how are you, Ben?’
He shot out a large hand and shook mine vigorously. ‘Very well, Sister, very well. And Captain Girvan, how’s he getting on?’
‘He’s still rather wheezy, Ben, but then, it was a serious wound – and he’s getting around again much better now.’
Song of Songs Page 42
