The Disenchanted Soldier

by Vicky Adin

  “Not dressed up like for the races, though – more muffled up against the cold. But it’s thrilling to see our team score. Tries, they call it, when the man with the ball lands it on the ground over the line. Funny really, not at all like real football. Skill, that is. I remember my brothers playing it back home – but what was I saying? Oh, yes, the rugby. Won their last season so’s I hear. Much prefers the races meself.”

  Emma groaned, arching her back as another contraction started, much more violent than the others.

  “Steady on there, lass. Nearly over now. Here, pull on this.” She handed Emma a knotted cloth rope she had tied to the bedhead.

  “I wore my new bonnet last time I went to the races. You should see it. Wonderful it is: dark bottle green, with pretty mint green ribbons and a pleated frill around the edge with real feathers. My friend Maisy said it was by far the best bonnet of all, even better than Mrs Robinson’s latest creation. Of course, she can afford the best of everything, she can, what with how rich the cap’n is, an’ all, but Maisy reckoned that didn’t matter. It was ugly, an’ mine was better. Do you know the block where the big two-storey barn is? That’s his. And he owns what locals called the ‘square mile’ along the river and down towards the beach. I were told it were more than 1,300 acres. Never ’eard of one person owning so much land afore.”

  In a moment of lucidity, Emma nearly laughed, except it turned into a groan. Wouldn’t she have a fit if she knew this child was conceived in that barn? As she tossed around on the bed, the contractions sharper and closer together, all Emma could do was nod in response while Annie mopped her brow.

  “Now listen to me, girl. Push when I say, and stop when I say.”

  She followed Annie’s instructions through a haze, wondering if it would ever end, when she noticed the pitch in Annie’s voice change.

  “Last time ... Come on, girl ... Push ... And again ... All right ... Stop pushing now ... Breathe ... Here it comes ... Got it, I have ... All over now ... There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “What is it?” Emma asked, managing to raise her head a little.

  “It’s a girl. And she has all her little fingers and toes.”

  “Thank you,” Emma whispered, smiling, falling back on the pillow exhausted.

  “No thanks to me, it isn’t. You did it all, girl.”

  Annie busied herself cleaning and tidying up, preparing mother and child to receive the father and letting Emma doze for a while to get her strength back. When she was satisfied, Annie allowed Daniel to enter the room. Emma was sitting up dressed in a clean, white, lace-edged nightdress, her hair freshly brushed, with the baby nestled in her arm, satiated after her first nursing.

  Emma smiled up at him. “Look, mein Charlie. She is beautiful, ja?”

  “Not as beautiful as you,” he responded, kissing her on the forehead.

  “Thank you, Charlie. What a nice thing to say.”

  “Are you all right? Was it, um, er, difficult?” he asked, coughing into his hand, somewhat embarrassed.

  “Ja, Charlie. I’m fine. Just a little tired. It took such a long time. ’Twas hard sometimes but look at what we have.”

  They both spent some time admiring the wee mite, counting her fingers and toes, in awe at her tininess, discussing her dark hair and dark eyes and who she looked like. Happiness flooded through them.

  After a time Daniel asked, “Have you thought what name we should give her?”

  “I would like to name her Edith Clara, after my grandmother and sister. Is that all right with you?”

  “I had been thinking I would like to call her Elizabeth after mine, but if Edith is what you want, then Edith it will be, my sweet. We will register her as you wish. To me she will always be my little Lizzie, though. Rest now, Liebling. I’ll see you later.”

  Satisfied, Emma laid her head back, contemplating their time together in the last few months. She loved her Charlie but life had been hard on them both. The last thing Mama told her was to make sure she married. Properly. In a church. But Papa would never give his permission so it could not happen for years yet. Not that she minded. She felt married – that was all that mattered.

  She settled deeper in the pillows with little Edith – or Lizzie as she would be known her entire life – asleep beside her. It wouldn’t be long before she would have to wake and feed that hungry little rosebud mouth, but meanwhile the healing depths of sleep called.

  1883

  “Telegram, miss,” said the boy at the door.

  A chill crept through Emma’s body as she held her hand out to receive the envelope. What bad news is this? Only bad news comes by telegraph.

  The delivery boy shuffled from foot to foot, waiting.

  “Oh! Yes. Wait here.” Realising what he wanted, Emma went to get a coin from the jar. She handed the boy a ha’penny and closed the door. The darkness of the hallway engulfed her like the dark hand of fate.

  She sat at the kitchen table staring at the envelope for a long time, not yet willing to open it. Seven-month-old Lizzie stirred in her bed on the floor by the range, making the murmuring noises that said she wanted to be fed. Emma was grateful for the distraction.

  I’ll look at it later. ’Tis hours yet before Charlie’s home. I’ll read it then.

  Settling back into the armchair she nursed Lizzie, but only a few minutes had passed before she set her down again. Almost in one movement, she got up, strode across to the table, picked up the telegram and ripped open the envelope. The bold type jumped out at her.

  SORRY MOTHER PASSED AWAY 5 JANUARY STOP

  LETTER FOLLOWING STOP HENRY

  Emma crushed the paper in her hand. Head thrown back, she let out a heart-rending wail. Lizzie, upset at having her meal interrupted, echoed her mother’s mournful cry with ear-piercing howls of her own.

  Annie’s voice sounded unexpectedly in the hall. “Hello, Emma, my dear. How are you today? I’ve brought you some ...”

  Annie stopped mid-sentence at the noise. She saw the tears falling down Emma’s face. “There, there, what is it, my dear? You tell Annie now, and let’s see if we can make it better.”

  She put her basket on the table and her arm around Emma’s shoulder, making her sit. Pulling up another chair so she could look at Emma, she gathered Lizzie into her arms, giving her a honey-soaked cloth to suck on.

  Emma’s racking sobs interrupted her words as she spoke. “Oh Annie ... thank heaven you came ... It’s Mama ... Look ... This telegram came from my brother ... She’s dead, Annie. Dead. Oh, Annie. How can that be? She is still so young. She has William; he’s still a baby. She can’t be dead. Annie, what am I going to do?”

  Annie prised the crumpled sheet from Emma’s hand and smoothed it out flat so she could see the words for herself.

  “Well, now. Let’s see. It says there’s a letter to follow, so with a bit of luck that will tell you more about what happened. But let’s be realistic, there is nothing you can do. And you know it.”

  Over the intervening months since Lizzie had been born, Annie had visited Emma often and they had become good friends. Taking a moment now to think how she was going to say what needed to be said, Annie fussed with Lizzie, eased her position and gave her more honey.

  “I’m gonna be cruel here to be kind. Why, you haven’t even seen your mama, nor anybody else in your family for that matter, since you come here with your Chas. It’s over a year now. Where were they when you needed them? Honestly, I ask you, where were they? That’s what I’d like to know. No one here when you had your babe either, just me and Maisy.”

  “I know. And you’ve been very good to me, Annie, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But knowing my mama was there if ever I needed her ...”

  “That’s as may be, but remember what you told me. You made your choice that day with your papa. Can’t understand it myself. Fancy, being made to choose between a husband and a papa. How any father could do that to their own is beyond me, but that’s the way it is with some folk. There�
�s no going back now. Would he have let her come anyway?”

  “No,” Emma whispered, reluctant to acknowledge Annie’s words.

  Lizzie had dropped off to sleep, so Annie laid her down. Taking an apron from her basket she tied the strings behind her back and began gathering up various pots and pans. Putting on her best no-nonsense voice, she said, “Come on now, none of this. You still got a husband and a babe to look after. Let’s get started. Peel them potatoes and set them to cooking, while I put a pot o’ stew on.”

  “I don’t have any meat,” Emma muttered, dabbing at her eyes with her sodden hanky.

  “Well, that’s what I was telling you now, wasn’t it? That’s what I got here in my basket. A good bone with some good meat left on it. It’ll make great stew.”

  “No, Annie, you can’t give me that. It’s for your dinner, isn’t it? I can tell, wrapped as it is from the butcher’s.”

  “Don’t you fret none my girl. You need some good food inside you to help you get over the shock. That’s what. And I’m staying until that husband of yours gets home. I’m not leaving you on your own today and that’s final. You can tell me all about your mama and when you was little back in Germany while we work.”

  Emma’s tears started to flow again at Annie’s kindness. She stood up and gave the older woman a hug. “Annie, you are good friend to me. And taught me so much. I don’t know what I’d have done without you sometimes.”

  “Hush, girl. Stop all that stuff and nonsense now. You’ll have me crying next. Let’s get to work.”

  “All right. But it’s true.”

  “An’ you’re about to learn some more, too. I brought you some peaches from my tree. Laden it’s been this year. Too many for me. We’re going to cook them up, and tomorrow I’ll come back with some jars and show you how to bottle them. But first things first, miss. I would kill for a cup of tea. Is the kettle hot?”

  Minutes passed as the tea was made and vegetables prepared.

  “Now, girl, you tell Annie all about it,” said the midwife, raising her teacup to her lips, the stew and potatoes simmering on the coal range.

  “I’m not sure there is a lot to tell. I think we were an ordinary peasant family like everyone else in village.”

  “Well, that’s a start then. Good cuppa, this,” declared Annie. “What did you do in the village? Where did you play? Where were your grandparents?”

  “I don’t think I remember grandparents, a cloudy memory, of a bent little old woman with small, rough hands who carried sticks on her back. She was always nice to me; I think she gave me little sweet baked treats. It was all so long ago now.”

  “You said your mama was still a young woman, so her mother would not have been so old. Not even as old as me maybe.” Annie preened this way and that, posing, pretending she was a young girl again. They laughed a little. “That’s better, girl.”

  “I think you right. I felt happy there, but I remember we had to move village. This before Fritz was born. It was a long way away. I was unhappy then. There were lots of unhappy times. I remember Mama crying.”

  “Why did you have to move?” Annie poured another cup of tea and sat back to listen.

  Emma shook her head. “I don’t know. I was so little. But later, when I was older, Papa would talk about how the men would all be rounded up and taken from the villages to fight in the army. He said it was wrong. People dying in other people’s battles. Mama used to tell me not to upset him by asking questions.”

  “Wouldn’t put up with that in my house, I wouldn’t. We’ve got as much right to know as anyone.” Annie folded her arms and pursed her lips. “Did your mama say anything else?”

  “She said our land was unsettled and powerful men were fighting each other to control it, so the people had to fight; the people had to die. Papa would talk to Heinrich for hours about it. Sometimes he said neighbours would fight neighbours. It was horrible. I would listen sometimes, but he said I would not understand. I don’t completely ...” Emma stopped talking, drifting into a world of memories.

  Into the silence, Annie said, “Sounds to me like as good reason as any to leave. Choosing to fight and being forced to fight is a different kettle of fish to my mind.”

  Annie poured a fresh cup of tea and patted Emma’s shoulder as she sat down again.

  “It is true what you say. It is very bad. Fighting and killing destroys too much. Families mostly. Mama said everyone suffered, even those who lived. They lost loved ones in the battles or were forced to move away from family to survive, like we did.”

  Emma wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Staring through the window, with fresh tears rolling down her face, she whispered, “Now I’ve lost Mama too.”

  Emma’s deep-seated sadness lingered between them.

  “So, what did you miss when you came out here?” asked Annie, changing the subject.

  “The seasons,” came Emma’s instant reply, brightening a little. “It is so different not to have the biting cold of winter, the deep snows and the smell of wood fires, then suddenly, almost overnight, spring would come, and all the snow would melt into the gurgling streams and rushing rivers, and the sounds of life returned.”

  “Yeah, well can’t say I miss the snow, missy,” said Annie. “But I know what you mean. I remember the spring, and the bare branches of the trees bursting into leaf. It’s often too wet and windy here for my taste.”

  Emma nodded in agreement. “I loved spring back home, when the birds began to sing again. I miss running amongst the wildflowers. I used to love the wildflowers.”

  Annie smiled. “We had bluebells, fields and fields of them, and primroses and crocus. Beautiful they were.”

  “It was like everyone came to life then; everyone had more energy. It is so much gentler here. The seasons are softer and blend into one another. I love it, but there are no flowers.”

  “I can give you some bulbs and cuttings so you can plant your own flowers if you want. Things grow well here all year round. I’ll show you.”

  * * *

  Daniel arrived home the worse for wear after having a few too many ales at the pub. The official pardoning of Te Kooti was something worthy of lengthy discussion and celebration to his mind. He found the two women still sitting at the table chatting over the remains of tea and biscuits. Many cups of tea, by the look of things, taking everything in one glance. The pot of stew cooking over the coal range smelt delicious, and he was hungry and in need of a wash.

  But first things first. “What’s going on here, then?”

  To his dismay, Emma leapt to her feet, threw her arms around him, burying her head in his chest, and burst into tears. As he held her, Annie handed him the telegram.

  “See for yourself, Chas. It seems her ma has passed away sudden like.”

  “There there, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear, patting her on the back, unsure what to do next. “You just sit down again, while I get cleaned up and then we’ll talk, eh?”

  He went outside again to check the chickens had been fed and put his horse away. After he’d removed his boots and had a wash, he returned to the kitchen to find Emma sitting in the armchair almost asleep.

  Leaving her to rest he crossed to where Annie was now stirring the stew she had made. He lowered her voice so Emma wouldn’t hear him. “It was good of you to sit late with my Emma. How’s she been?”

  Annie looked around to check Emma wasn’t listening. “Up and down,” she whispered. “She talked a lot about what it was like back in Germany before they came here and then how hard it had been for her ma once they were here and her father was away working so often on the railroad. I didn’t try to follow it all as she jumped from thought to thought. It was good to get her talking.”

  Daniel nodded, adding gruffly, “Thanks for being here.”

  “Pleased to do what I can.” Moving away from their tête-à-tête, Annie bent down by Emma’s chair and placed her hand on the girl’s arm. Her eyes flicked open. “Emma, my dear. I’d better get away to my din
ner, but I’ll be back tomorrow. You give young Lizzie here another good drink tonight and she’ll sleep through, I’m sure.”

  Exhausted now, Emma could only nod.

  Walking to the door with Daniel, Annie added, “And I’ll send a lad with some laudanum to help her sleep. It’ll be a long night for yer both.”

  After Annie left, Daniel watched Emma and Lizzie dozing, wondering what to expect when she woke up. He was starving and dished up some of the stew. He ate two bowls and washed up before disturbing Emma.

  “Come on, love. You have to try to eat something.”

  But Emma couldn’t eat and pushed hers around the plate, taking no more than a mouthful or two. He shoved the laudanum Annie had sent into his pocket and sat in the chair opposite the now agitated Emma. He took his time rolling his cigarette before he broached the subject that lay between them.

  “Do you want to go back and see them? Would that help?”

  “I don’t know, Charlie. I only told Annie half the story about Papa. I said I had gone against his wishes because you were older. Not that I was pregnant, nor that we aren’t legally married.”

  “That don’t matter. Let people think what they like. You’ll be too late for the funeral, but do you want to see your father and brothers and sister?”

  “Would you come with me if I went?”

  “No. You know that. Your father and I will never see eye to eye again, and it’ll only stir up more argument.”

  “How can I go? He told me to leave and never come back. I made my choice. Now I have to live with it. I’m not unhappy with our life, Charlie, but it is hard sometimes.”

  “I know, my sweet. I know.”

  Pulling her to her feet, he took her in his arms and let her sobs quieten on his shoulder. He was speechless. He comforted her the only way he knew how. He began by massaging her shoulders. As she relaxed, he kissed her neck working his way up to her face, kissing her lips, tongue stretching into her mouth, moist and warm. He engulfed her in his hold, running one hand through her hair, the other up and down her back, never letting her go. Their kisses became desperate and more passionate as he guided her to the bedroom. They collapsed on the bed pulling at their clothes, discarding them haphazardly on the floor. Wrapped around each other, the emotion, the hurt, the anger and the misery were consumed by their passion until they lay spent.