by T A Williams
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. How terrible.’ She stopped and collected herself, determined to be positive. ‘No, it’s not terrible. She had a good life and if she died peacefully, we can’t ask for more than that.’
‘You are so right, Alice. And, at least, I had all day yesterday to talk to her. My flight got in first thing. We did a lot of catching up.’ His voice almost broke. ‘It was good to spend time with her. Lucky I managed to get onto an earlier flight.’
‘You must be exhausted. Where are you staying? Do you want me to go next door and light the Aga?’
‘No, don’t worry. I have got my mom’s bag and keys. I’ll come round in an hour or so once the paperwork is finished and let myself in. I thought I’d better warn you, in case you wondered who this strange man was.’
‘Thanks. Do you want me to come and pick you up from the hospital? I can easily do that.’
‘No need, thanks. I’ve rented a car. I’ll see you later on, after I’ve had a sleep. Most likely tomorrow, the way I feel right now.’
‘Anything you need, I’m just next door.’
By the time she came out of the shower, Alice was feeling better. Her legs still ached, but she was moving well. Her morning walk with Danny the dog further loosened her up. By the time they had done their circuit of the fields, she was feeling almost normal. She called in at the village shop and bought milk and bread for herself and the same for Derek Tinker. Back home, she let herself into Mrs Tinker’s house and put the food in the fridge for him. Danny the dog padded round, sniffing all the corners of the kitchen.
‘She’s gone, Danny.’ She looked up at the old photo on the shelf. It was a black and white image of Mrs Tinker and her husband. Both were dressed in their Sunday best and were smiling at the camera. ‘She was a very nice lady, Danny.’ Alice couldn’t help herself. She sat down at the table and started to cry. The dog, seeing her distress, came across to offer support. She caught the hairy head in her hands and hugged him to her. It was some time later before she roused herself and returned home.
She made herself a cup of tea and some toast. As she spread honey on the toast, her thoughts returned to the case full of letters. She knew she was fascinated by the First World War, and she knew she wanted to study it more deeply. Now she knew the identity of Danny, she resolved to read through his letters again in the hope of finding his favourite spot, the notion of which had sustained him in the trenches. Somehow she felt that finding the physical location of their dreams would bring her closer to them both.
She was just offering her last crust to the dog when there was a knock at the door. It was Megan.
‘Have you heard the news?’ Alice nodded.
She let Megan in and waited while Danny the dog gave her a boisterous welcome. They went through to the kitchen and Alice put the kettle back on.
She told her about the call she had received from Derek Tinker. Megan nodded. ‘He phoned me, too. I met him a few years ago, shortly after I came here. He’s a nice man. You’ll like him. I seem to remember he and his wife run a hotel somewhere in the wilds of Canada.’
‘Any idea when the funeral will be?’ Alice was wondering if she had anything lightweight in black to wear. Although it wasn’t yet mid-morning, the sun was shining brightly and the air was already warm.
‘Early next week, I would think. Derek and Peter are going to ring round all the rest of the family today to see how they are fixed.’
‘Here, careful, the mug’s hot.’ She passed the tea across and dug out the biscuits from the fridge. The dog materialised as if by magic beside them.
‘So, first things first, tell me all about the tennis match. How did it go?’
‘The tennis was rubbish; at least mine. He plays very well. He could have annihilated me if he had wanted to. But we had strawberries and cream afterwards, and I got a lift in the Range Rover. Oh, and I got to see his legs, too. They’re rather nice’ She gave her a cheeky smile.
Megan set her mug down and looked across the table. She cleared her throat. ‘Alice, I didn’t finish the story last time I was speaking to you about Daniel Tremayne. I had better do that now, before you do something you might regret.’ She was looking very serious now. Alice began to feel apprehensive.
‘A few weeks back you asked me if I knew Lyndhurst Avenue. I told you I knew it well. There’s a reason for that. I often go to visit a former parishioner of mine who lives there. What number is your house?’
’23.’ Alice didn’t know where this was going, but Megan’s tone did not bode well. She studied her mug of tea, unwilling to look up.
‘I thought it was. The person I visit lives very close to you, in number 21.’ Alice’s head snapped up. ‘Yes, Alice, I imagine you have met her. Her name is Victoria Tremayne. Ring any bells?’
Alice was dumbfounded. It took her a while to register what Megan had said. Finally, she managed to get the words out. ‘You mean Vicky? Vicky and little Danny?’ Suddenly the child’s name made sense.
‘I christened him. His name is Thomas Daniel Tremayne. She calls him Danny. She has her reasons.’
‘But, but… why is she living there? Why isn’t she at the Manor?’
‘I told you, when he had the accident, he suffered horrible head injuries. Life-threatening and personality-changing injuries. Little Danny was conceived during the Christmas holiday period the year before last, a few weeks before the crash. He was born at the end of September last year. By the time he was born, Vicky had already moved out.’
‘But why?’
‘I don’t know the full story. The police were never called, as far as I know, but she told me she left for her own safety, and the safety of the child she was carrying. Like I said, Daniel has been fighting for his sanity for the last year or more.’
‘But he seems so normal now.’ Alice was appalled.
‘He’s doing very well. He’s much, much better than he used to be. He leaves the house now and even comes to social events.’ Catching Alice’s eye, she explained. ‘After Vicky left to have her baby, he pretty much barricaded himself in the house for months. Just him and his old mother. I tried to visit a few times but it was all locked up. It wasn’t till last Christmas Day that I managed to get him to come to church. That was the first time he had been seen around the village for months and months. He smiles a lot more now, but he’s still damaged goods, Alice. He’s still got a long way to go.’
‘So where does that leave Vicky?’ As she spoke, she was remembering the words Vicky had used. They were the same as Daniel her husband had used: it’s been a pretty tough time, all in all. That was beginning to sound like a gross understatement.
‘I don’t know, Alice. And neither does she. You have to understand, I wasn’t joking when I said that they fell deeply in love. It was a match made in heaven. Everybody agreed. They are made for each other. She would be the last person to want to give all that up, but she’s in a real mess.’
‘What about money? Is she all right?’
‘That’s not a problem. She told me he sends her more than enough money each month. No, it’s not a question of money. It’s a question of his mental health. Did you know he hasn’t seen his son yet?’
‘What?’ Alice couldn’t believe her ears. ‘But Danny’s eight months old now. Surely he must have seen him some time.’ Megan shook her head. ‘Is that because Vicky won’t let him?’
‘Very much the opposite. She writes to him every week. Real letters, Alice, by post. He writes to her in reply. All he ever says is that he is sorry and he doesn’t want to see either of them until he’s well again.’
‘And when will that be? Will he ever be well again?’ Alice’s voice was husky.
‘We would all love to know the answer to that one, Alice.’
Chapter 28
After Megan had left, Alice sat disconsolately in the kitchen, her mind consumed by thoughts of death. Her eyes fell on the pile of old letters, which she had almost finished reading on Saturday night. She had reached June twenty-fou
rth 1916, barely a week before the big battle and, presumably, Danny’s last day on earth, and had been putting off reading the last few, afraid of how depressed they would make her. Now, after the news she had received that morning, she felt ready to pick them up.
‘I’m sad enough as it is, Danny.’ She often found herself talking to the dog these days. ‘I can’t feel any worse.’
He stood up, stretched and then settled back in his basket with a heartfelt sigh. Alice picked up the three remaining letters and began reading them with a heavy heart. The penultimate one told of the earth-shattering barrage that was being brought to bear on the German trenches.
Hour after hour, day after day, the guns never let up. There are so many shells bursting on the enemy, Captain Martin reckons it will be a walk in the park when the time comes. That’s what he said, Gladys, “a walk in the park”. We all hope he’s right.
Alice remembered reading about the unbelievable tonnage of munitions hurled at the Germans in the build-up to the attack. General Rawlinson’s plan relied upon the enemy positions being completely destroyed and the barbed wire cut, before his men went over the top. In particular, he trusted the artillery to eliminate the feared machine guns. She now knew what he and his soldiers did not know then. The barrage didn’t work. The Germans were dug in deep underground. When the guns fell silent, they crawled back up to the surface and manned their weapons, in particular the machine guns, to deadly effect.
Finally, she reached the last letter. This was actually dated July first 1916, written a matter of hours before the battle. It wasn’t a long letter.
My dearest Gladys
By the time you read this, we will have attacked. I am writing this outside in the open. Few of us feel like sleeping, although we are all dead tired after days and nights of continuous bombardment. I am sitting on an ammunition box, sharing a lantern with a couple of the others. The Captain told us to write a note to our loved ones, just in case. In case of what? In case the guns haven’t done their work? In case Fritz is still there with his machine guns? Or in case, God help me, I am so terrified I can’t make it up and over the parapet? I pray to God I will be able to climb the ladder and do my duty.
I’m not afraid of dying. I won’t miss the mud, the stench, the fear. I’m not even afraid of being hit. The bullets do a good job. They say you don’t feel a thing, at least not at the time. What I am afraid of, my dearest, is not coming home to see you ever again. You are always in my thoughts. I love you dearly and I will give my life, if I have to, to protect you from harm.
Remember me to all my friends and family.
Yours forever
Danny
Alice pushed the letter away as a teardrop fell onto the paper. She scrabbled for a tissue and wiped it off, then dropped her head onto her arms and sobbed. She was vaguely aware of the sound of creaking wicker, then she felt the warm nose of the dog against her thigh. She reached down and scratched his ears, but it was a long time before she stopped crying. Finally, she roused herself and looked down at the dog, his brown eyes staring up at her, offering moral support.
‘Danny, you are the very best dog in the world.’ She blew her nose and stood up. Job done, he returned to his basket. She put the kettle on and set about collecting the letters safely together. She placed them back inside the little suitcase. As she did so, she noticed a corner of yellowish paper, caught in the lining. She tugged at it slowly until she managed to work it free. To her surprise, it was a label, an address label, the glue now long-since dried up. As she held it, she noticed for the first time a lighter patch on the inside of the lid, where the label would once have been stuck. Written on it in neat, though faded, handwriting was:
Daniel E Green
3, Shute End Cottages
Conibere
Devon
Alice let the label fall from her fingers. She looked up in amazement. She now knew who her Danny was. And it wasn’t either of the names on the Conibere war memorial. Did this mean he survived the battle?
She picked up the iPad and searched for the War Graves Commission website. She located the record of the Devonshires that fateful day and scrolled frantically through the names. There was only one Green, his initial was W. He didn’t die, she shrieked to herself. And as his name wasn’t on the Conibere memorial, maybe he survived the whole war. She took the kettle from the hob and filled the teapot. As she did so, she heard noises from next door. Derek Tinker must have arrived. She opened the back door and went through the gate to Mrs Tinker’s kitchen door. Danny trotted happily past her and rested his nose against it, tail wagging. She knocked and immediately heard the key turn before the door swung open.
‘Hi, you must be Alice.’ He was a bear of a man, with a bushy black beard. For a moment, she had an image of him wearing a Davy Crockett hat, panning for gold in the wild mountains. All he needed was a checked shirt and an axe to complete the mental picture. His eyes were smiling, even if the rest of his face was almost invisible under the beard.
‘Hello, Derek.’ She held out her hand. He took it and shook it, mercifully gently. She gave him a smile. ‘I’ve just made tea. Would you like a cup?’
There was a moment’s hesitation, then his eyes smiled even more and she found herself smiling back. ‘Alice, do you have any coffee by any chance? I’ve drunk so much tea over the last twenty-four hours, I think my tonsils are floating.’
‘How does a real Italian espresso sound?’
‘Alice, if I wasn’t a happily married man, I’d pick you up and hug you.’ He shot her a glance. ‘What the hell, come here.’ He reached out with his beefy hands, lifted her off the ground and wrapped her into his arms. All the emotion of the past few hours overwhelmed her, and she burst into tears. He held her tightly for a few moments until she was able to regain control. When he set her back down again, she saw his eyes were also filled with tears. She rubbed her hand across her face and searched for a handkerchief.
‘And this handsome creature must be young Danny.’ Hearing his name, the dog walked up to Derek, his tail wagging uncertainly. ‘Hi fellah, you’re as fine a dog as I’ve seen in a long time. Mom said you were a looker. She was damn right.’ He bent down and stroked him, while both of them recovered. Finally, he stood up again.
‘Did you say something about coffee?’
Alice wiped her nose and stuffed the tissue back into her pocket. ‘Sorry about that. Come on, this way.’ The dog led them out and through into the garden of Duck Cottage. Derek stopped by the back door and surveyed the plants.
‘Last time I came over was a few years ago and it was winter. Boy, but it looks good with all the trees in leaf and the flowers open.’ He breathed in deeply. ‘What’s that I can smell?’
‘Look up.’ Alice found that she liked this huge man a lot. Obediently, he raised his eyes to the wisteria that covered most of the back wall. Long bunches of purple blooms hung from the branches. He nodded in appreciation.
‘The snow’s only just about melted now where we live. Wow, that is quite something.’
Alice beckoned him inside. He sat down at the table and the dog positioned himself alongside. Derek ruffled his ears, while Alice busied herself with the espresso machine. She had regained control now and felt able to talk about it.
‘I’m sorry for crying my eyes out. I was really fond of your mum, Derek.’ She filled the machine and set a cup in front of it. ‘I lost my parents a long time ago. I suppose I came to think of her as another mum, really.’
He looked up from the dog, his eyes still smiling. ‘She loved you, too, Alice. She told me that yesterday. Maybe she always wanted a daughter, who knows? Anyway, welcome to the family, and thanks for all you did for her.’
Alice protested. ‘It was the other way round. She took me under her wing from the first time I saw her. She settled me into Woodcombe, introduced me to people, especially your cousin Peter. And he has helped me loads with this house I’m renovating. No, it’s me who should be doing the thanking.’ The espresso ma
chine began belching forth a stream of steaming black liquid, a glorious smell of coffee filling the kitchen. Derek rolled his eyes.
‘Oh, yes, that smells so good. Alice, you’re a life saver.’
She placed a cup of coffee in front of him and reached for the biscuits. He waved them away. ‘My wife and my doctor have made me sign the pledge. No cakes, biscuits or pudding. The coffee will do just fine. Followed by about a week in bed.’
He drained the first cup and she was already on her feet, heading towards the machine as he set the empty cup down. ‘Another?’ He nodded. ‘Not worried it’ll keep you awake?’
‘Alice, you could go ahead and have the party of the century next door and it wouldn’t disturb me one iota.’ He watched her as she refilled his cup. ‘So, what do you do with yourself when you aren’t restoring houses?’
She told him about her previous job, her redundancy and her intention to do an MA. She found him very easy to talk to. She told him about the war letters and pointed towards the battered suitcase. He looked very interested.
‘You know, Alice, history is kind of my thing.’
She looked surprised. ‘But I thought you ran a hotel or something. At least,’ she smiled, ‘that’s what the bush telegraph told me.’
‘And the bush telegraph would be right. It’s what used to be a hunting lodge to be precise and it’s in the middle of some of the wildest terrain Canada can offer. We’ve got satellite TV, but there’s precious little else to do apart from hunting and fishing. So I’ve developed an interest in history, particularly the two world wars. I try to read everything I can find about the period from the turn of the century up to 1945.’
