“Well, Nick, you can’t do anything that I’m not doing.”
“Get out of the way and I’ll show you.”
“What are you trying to get?” asked Alayne.
“The news from England,” answered Ernest. He looked at his watch.
“It’s quite time for it.”
“One would think,” rumbled Nicholas, as a persuasive male voice came from the radio, “that the entire population lived with its hands in the laundry tub. Soap flakes — super-suds — by Jove, there’s little else!”
He persisted, however, while snatches of serials full of heart throbs filled the room with their woe. At last he gave an exclamation of triumph. “Ha, here we are! Your watch must have been fast, Ernie.”
Pheasant slipped into the room. The four listened to the calm recital of air raids and air battles. Their minds were on young Wakefield, who, such a short while ago, had been a mischievous small boy, a sensitive adolescent, in this room. Now, somewhere over there he was sailing in the skies, in daily hazard of his life. Suddenly, startlingly, his name came to them out of the radio. They were frozen to attention. What was the voice saying?
“It is announced that Flying Officer Wakefield Whiteoak —”
“Don’t! Don’t!” cried their hearts. “Don’t tell us that he has been killed!”
Nicholas’s large eyes were fixed in apprehension on the radio. Ernest gripped the arms of his chair. Pheasant closed her eyes and her lips moved. The colour fled from Alayne’s face. All this in a breath! Then the cool buoyant voice continued —
“— Wakefield Whiteoak, a young Canadian flier, has been awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for gallantly flying a badly damaged plane back to England after taking part in a raid over Germany. The King personally presented the Cross.”
The news went on but no one heard it. This was enough. This terror — this relief! An electric thrill of pride and relief went through the room. They looked at each other, making incoherent sounds to express their emotions. Ernest’s eyes were full of tears.
“Wonderful! Wonderful! I was never —” he got out, but could say no more.
“To think of little Wake!” cried Pheasant. “Oh, won’t Renny —”
“I’m glad. I’m glad,” said Alayne. “It will be a great help to Wake.”
Nicholas was struggling to get to his feet. “Heave me up out of here,” he demanded. “Got to be on my feet.” His untidy grey hair on end, his heavy shoulders seeming too weighty for the power in his legs, he stumped about the room.
Adeline must have heard something of the excitement. She came to the doorway and demanded: —
“What has happened?”
Nicholas turned himself about and faced her. He said in a sonorous voice: —
“Adeline, this is a proud day for us. Your Uncle Wakefield has won the Distinguished Flying Cross. It’s been presented to him by the King. Tell her the very words of the announcer, Ernest. I can’t remember ’em.”
Ernest repeated the words. The grownups listened as though they too heard them for the first time.
Adeline’s eyes were like stars.
“Oh, good!” she said. “Oh, good!”
“I tell you,” said Nicholas, still in his deepest voice, “we shall beat Hitler. With men like ours — we shall beat Hitler. With a leader like ours nothing can defeat us. What did he say? ‘Long, dark months of trial and tribulation lie before us … death and sorrow will be the companions of our journey, hardship our garment, constancy and valor our only shield.’ Grand words, eh?”
“How well you remember them, Uncle Nick,” said Pheasant.
“And yet he says his memory is failing!” said Ernest, very proud of his brother.
Nicholas threw up his leonine old head and went on: —
“‘We shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air …’”
“Aye,” said Ernest grimly, “in the air, by God!”
Nicholas fixed his eyes on Adeline and went on: “‘We shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be; we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender.’”
“Magnificent!” exclaimed Ernest, as though the noble words were Nicholas’s own.
“You’ve put me off!” declared Nicholas. “You’ve put me completely off. I can’t remember another word of it.”
“Oh, yes, you can, Uncle Nick,” said Pheasant. “Please do! It’s grand.”
He ran his hands through his hair. “‘This Island,’” he muttered, “‘subjugated or starving … Then our Empire across the seas … armed and guarded by the British Fleet, will carry on the struggle until, in God’s good time in … God’s good time …’” He could not finish. His voice was shaking. “Adeline,” he said, “the future lies with you children. You must remember this day and … pledge yourself, yes … pledge yourself …”
“I will, Uncle Nick.”
Alayne brought in the decanter of sherry and they drank to Wakefield. Nicholas was tired. He dropped heavily into his chair.
Adeline went again into the hall. She found Archer there, staring up at the grandfather clock. He had opened its door and was holding the pendulum motionless.
“If you stop the clock,” he said, “you stop time, don’t you? I need never go to bed.”
She removed his hand sternly from the pendulum. “Let it go. You can’t stop time. No matter what you do. We need it.”
“What good is it to us?”
“We’ve got to have it. Archie, come upstairs with me.”
“Where?”
“To Daddy’s room.”
She took him by the hand and led him up to Renny’s room. She closed the door behind them. Then she faced him.
“Archie,” she said, “we may have to fight. Uncle Nick says so. We may have to fight — just like Daddy.”
“Have they killed Daddy?”
“No, no, but we children may have to fight too, and I think we’d better begin training. Look here.”
She climbed on to a chair and took down two double-barreled rifles from the wall. She placed one of these in Archer’s hands, he took it as though this were what he had been waiting for since long years.
She opened the window wide. The rich-coloured autumn landscape lay before them in peace and majesty. The window faced the east.
“This is the direction they’d come from,” she said. “Because England’s over there. Now rest your gun across the sill, Archie, and I’ll be on the lookout. When I see them coming I’ll tell you and we’ll fire. We’ll shoot them as they come out of the woods and we’ll never surrender.”
He drew his high white forehead into a frown and fixed his piercing gaze on the blue horizon. His small grimy hands gripped the rifle. Adeline’s expression was one of watchful courage. The dark red hair framing her face was bright in the sunshine. She felt inside her a gathering strength.
THE END
THE JALNA NOVELS
BY MAZO DE LA ROCHE
In Order of Year of Publication In Order of Year Story Begins
Jalna, 1927 The Building of Jalna, 1853
Whiteoaks of Jalna, 1929 Morning at Jalna, 1863
Finch's Fortune, 1931 Mary Wakefield, 1894
The Master of Jalna, 1933 Young Renny, 1906
Young Renny, 1935 Whiteoak Heritage, 1918
Whiteoak Harvest, 1936 The Whiteoak Brothers, 1923
Whiteoak Heritage, 1940 Jalna, 1924
Wakefield's Course, 1941 Whiteoaks of Jalna, 1926
The Building of Jalna, 1944 Finch's Fortune, 1929
Return to Jalna, 1946 The Master of Jalna, 1931
Mary Wakefield, 1949 Whiteoak Harvest, 1934
Renny's Daughter, 1951 Wakefield's Course, 1939
The Whiteoak Brothers, 1953 Return to Jalna, 1943
Variable Winds at Jalna, 1954 Renny's Daughter, 1948
Centenary
at Jalna, 1958 Variable Winds at Jalna, 1950
Morning at Jalna, 1960 Centenary at Jalna, 1953
From Mazo de la Roche: Rich and Famous Writer by Heather Kirk
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Whiteoaks of Jalna
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Whiteoak Heritage
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Mary Wakefield
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MAZODE LA ROCHE was once Canada’s best-known writer, loved by millions of readers around the world. She created unforgettable characters who come to life for her readers, but she was secretive about her own life. When she died in 1961, her cousin and lifelong companion, Caroline Clement, burned her diaries, adding to the aura of mystery that already surrounded Mazo.
Mazo de la Roche: Rich and Famous Writer
by Heather Kirk
978-1-894852-20-3
$17.95
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The Jalna Novels by Mazo de la Roche
IN ORDER OF YEAR OF PUBLICATION
IN ORDER OF YEAR STORY BEGINS
Jalna, 1927
Whiteoaks of Jalna, 1929
Finch’s Fortune, 1931
The Master of Jalna, 1933
Young Renny, 1935
Whiteoak Harvest, 1936
Whiteoak Heritage, 1940
Wakefield’s Course, 1941
The Building of Jalna, 1944
Return to Jalna, 1946
Mary Wakefield, 1949
Renny’s Daughter, 1951
The Whiteoak Brothers, 1953
Variable Winds at Jalna, 1954
Centenary at Jalna, 1958
Morning at Jalna, 1960
The Building of Jalna, 1853
Morning at Jalna, 1863
Mary Wakefield, 1894
Young Renny, 1906
Whiteoak Heritage, 1918
The Whiteoak Brothers, 1923
Jalna, 1924
Whiteoaks of Jalna, 1926
Finch’s Fortune, 1929
The Master of Jalna, 1931
Whiteoak Harvest, 1934
Wakefield’s Course, 1939
Return to Jalna, 1943
Renny’s Daughter, 1948
Variable Winds at Jalna, 1950
Centenary at Jalna, 1953
About Mazo de la Roche
MAZO DE LA ROCHE was once Canada’s best-known writer, loved by millions of readers around the world. She created unforgettable characters who come to life for her readers, but she was secretive about her own life. When she died in 1961, her cousin and lifelong companion Caroline Clement burned her diaries, adding to the aura of mystery that already surrounded Mazo.
Read About the Life of Mazo de la Roche in a New Biography!
Mazo de la Roche: Rich and Famous Writer
by Heather Kirk
ISBN 978-1-894852-20-3 $17.95
Available at traditional and online bookstores
Copyright © The Estate of Mazo de la Roche and Dundurn Press Limited
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.
Cataloguing in Publication Data available from Library and Archives Canada
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and Livres Canada Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.
Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.
J. Kirk Howard, President
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Books 9-12: Finch's Fortune / The Master of Jalna / Whiteoak Harvest / Wakefield's Course Page 148
