by June Francis
‘I don’t know.’ Clara stuck a stamp on the envelope and thought about Freddie. What had been in his mind when he discovered she had gone home? Had he cared enough to want to get in touch with her? ‘I’d best be on my way,’ she said, wrapping a scarf round her neck and putting on her gloves, determined not to get obsessed with him. What would it gain her, thinking of him all the time? He would probably be off to sea again before she knew it. ‘See you later, Gran.’
Bernie nodded and stared gloomily into the fireplace where a miserable fire burnt. She wore several skirts and a couple of jumpers, and a jacket with a shawl on top of that. Another shawl covered her head. ‘I just hope I’m not dead when yer get back,’ she said.
‘Then get out and go to the library, as I suggested,’ said Clara, not knowing what more she could do for her grandmother. ‘You can read the newspaper in there. It’s nice out, even if it is cold, and you can take your time. You might even meet someone you can talk to.’
Bernie did not respond so Clara left her, hoping she might just make an effort to get out. She popped the letter through the pillar box on her way to work and hoped that her aunt would do her the courtesy of giving her an answer.
* * *
Gabrielle took the mail from the postman and thanked him. She tucked the envelopes under her armpit and finished feeding the hens before hurrying indoors, out of the icy wind. She dropped the post on the kitchen table and removed her coat before going over to the sink and washing her hands. She put the kettle on and then riffled through the post. There were a couple of catalogues and what appeared to be bills, and two envelopes addressed to her.
She reached for her reading glasses on the mantelpiece and put them on, and was able to recognise Alice’s handwriting. She felt a vague sense of guilt, knowing that she should have made the effort to visit her son. What kind of mother was she for being so negligent of him? Making the excuse that she was marooned here on the farm because it was some distance from the railway station was not a good defence. Yet if she asked for a lift to the station it would result in another row with Martin. She hesitated to open the letter, fearing what it might say, and instead turned to the other one. The handwriting was unfamiliar and she was just about to open the envelope when she heard running feet outside in the yard. She looked up as the door burst open.
One of the farm labourers stood there, red-faced and panting. ‘Missus, you’ve got to come quick. The master’s had an accident and is real bad. Frank’s gone for the doctor.’
Gabrielle’s heart began to thud. Swiftly, she shoved the envelopes in a drawer and followed him out of the house. ‘What happened?’ she asked.
He gulped. ‘Daisy went crazy and the rest of the herd panicked. The master had no time to get out of the way and was trampled on.’
Gabrielle did not need him to say anymore. She had always had a vivid imagination. When she reached Martin’s bloodied and battered body she saw for herself just how serious her husband’s condition was. For a moment she gazed down at him in disbelief and fought back the bile that rose in her throat. She must be strong.
He was barely conscious when she bent over him and took one of his hands in hers. He tried to speak but she told him to save his breath. ‘The doctor will be here soon,’ she said in an attempt to reassure him.
‘We didn’t dare move him, missus,’ said the farm labourer in a trembling voice.
‘Of course not. You behaved rightly. I’ll stay with him,’ she said calmly, kneeling down in the filth and mud left after the cattle’s passing. ‘You go back to the house and fetch a couple of blankets from the chest on the landing upstairs. We need to keep him warm.’
The man hesitated. ‘You’ll be all right with him by yourself?’
Gabrielle nodded and shooed him away. She gazed down at her husband and considered the possibility that she might soon be a widow. Her mind turned over the advantages such freedom would bring her. But then a little voice in her head said, But what if Martin were to survive his terrible injuries and was crippled for life? He would need constant care and it would be her task to look after him. She could not see him paying out for a nurse to take care of him. She thought about what her life would be like in those circumstances and rebelled. She had worked hellishly hard all her life and wanted to get away from this farm and have some fun before she was old and decrepit.
She focused on one of her favourite dreams, that of sailing to New York, buying a whole new wardrobe, and appearing on Broadway to become the toast of the town. How farfetched was that? And yet dreams did occasionally come true. Maybe she might even meet up with Robbie Bennett again. With Martin’s insurance money and what he must have in the bank, which included the money his mother had left her after having worked for her for years, she could do some of the things she had always wanted to do.
She gazed down at her husband, knowing he would hate being a cripple. Besides, why should he live when so many young men had given their lives for their country? Yet still she hesitated, partly horrified by the thought of what she was considering. Yet was it really so wicked? If an animal was in his condition it would be put down. Slowly, she reached out a hand and placed it over his nose and mouth. She watched his face slowly change colour and thought it shouldn’t be so difficult to act the part of a grieving widow.
* * *
Alice looked up from her darning at Seb as he entered the drawing room. His skin looked pale against the black eye patch and her heart sank. ‘What’s wrong? Have you heard from the surgeon?’
‘No, it’s not that.’ Seb sat beside her on the sofa. ‘I’ve just received a letter from Ma. Uncle Martin’s dead! The funeral’s on Friday. She says if I want to go not to bother answering her letter but just to turn up at the farm in time to travel with the cortege.’ The paper shook in his hand as he held it out to his wife.
Alice was furious. ‘She’s got a cheek expecting you to go when she hasn’t bothered coming to see you. Does she mention our letter?’
He shook his head.
Alice pressed her lips together on a rude word. ‘I bet she hasn’t even read it. She pretty well ignores every letter I send, but now she wants something from you we hear from her.’
‘Read the letter,’ he said. ‘She doesn’t insist on my going.’
Alice dug the needle into the woollen sock she was darning and set it aside before taking Gabrielle’s letter from him. She read it swiftly while he paced the floor. It was short and to the point, and she did not get a mention. Perhaps Gabrielle took it for granted that if Seb went to the funeral she would not accompany him. ‘Will you go?’
‘Why don’t you come straight out with it? You mean, can I cope with facing all those people who knew me before the war, when I worked for my father?’ His tone was bitter.
‘I wasn’t thinking that at all,’ she protested. ‘You’ve coped so much better since that day Freddie came round and you went out for a drink.’
Alice remembered him coming in late that evening. After Clara had gone, and Tilly had left the house without saying where she was going. Alice had felt so alone, even when the children had come home and told her about the party. They were in bed before Seb had come rolling home. She had been watching for him and had the door open before he reached it. ‘S-Sorry if I’m late fo-for supper,’ he’d said. ‘Cele-bration, ’cos both Freddie and I survived the war. I-I’ve decided I’m going to wear a black patch. Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum and all that.’ Laughing, he had leant against her and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She had returned his kiss, glad to have him safe and so happy, despite the decision he had made about his arm.
After that day, their life had definitely improved in the weeks that followed. Not only had Seb taken to wearing an eye patch, but they had discussed spending some of their precious savings. She had suggested his writing to the surgeon down south who had operated on his arm to ask whether he would see him. This he had done and they were now waiting for a reply.
Seb sighed and rested his head against
the mantelshelf. ‘I suppose I’ll have to go.’
‘I thought you would,’ she murmured. ‘Why don’t you get Freddie to drive you there? It’ll be easier for you than going by train.’
Seb felt a rush of relief. ‘That’s a good idea. I’m sure Kenny won’t mind my borrowing one of the motors and Freddie always enjoys driving. If he takes me, then you don’t have to come with me, which means Tilly won’t have to take time off to look after Georgie.’
Alice said, ‘I didn’t intend going unless you insisted. I’d prefer to stay at home. I’d probably lose my temper with your mother if I went with you. Will I drop by at Flanny’s and see if Freddie’s in… or will you go while I make some scones for tea?’
‘You make the scones.’ He kissed her lightly and left the house.
Despite venturing outside more and more during daylight hours, it was still something of an ordeal for Seb to face people. But on that cold but crisp February day, there was only a middle-aged man with a thatch of rusty hair sticking out from beneath a cap in the crescent. He seemed vaguely familiar, so Seb gave him a nod, thinking he must be one of the neighbours he didn’t know that well. Then he covered the short distance to Hanny’s and hurried up the path and knocked on the door. It was several minutes before he heard approaching footsteps and the door opened to reveal Hanny.
‘Seb!’ she cried, her face lighting up. ‘Come in!’
There was no doubting her pleasure at seeing him and that made him feel better about himself. ‘How are you today, Hanny?’ he asked, stepping over the threshold. ‘How are the twins?’
She groaned and dropped her head onto his shoulder. ‘I love them to bits, but they’re such hard work.’
He patted her back. ‘I can imagine. I wish I could comfort you by saying it’ll get easier, but wait until they’re crawling and then walking. In your case, they’ll be double trouble.’
She lifted her head and smiled at him. ‘Go on, cheer me up! Happily Joy’s got time off today and has taken Mother and the twins into town. Come up and have a cup of tea and you can tell me why you’re here.’
He wiped his feet on the mat and removed his cap. ‘I want you to give Freddie a message that I’d like to see him when he comes in.’
She glanced over her shoulder as they climbed the stairs. ‘Can you tell me what it’s about?’
‘Uncle Martin’s dead.’
Hanny’s fine blue eyes widened. ‘Goodness. That’s unexpected. He wasn’t ill, was he?’
‘Not that I know of. Ma doesn’t mention what killed him. Just told me the date of the funeral and said if I wanted to go, just to turn up.’
Hanny shook her head but kept her thoughts to herself as they climbed the stairs. She led the way into the beautifully proportioned drawing room with french windows that led onto a wrought-iron balcony. She waved him to an armchair near the fire. ‘Sit down while I make tea.’ She left the room.
Instead of doing what she said, Seb walked over to the french windows and let himself out onto the balcony. He gazed towards the River Dee. At this time of year there were few day trippers walking along the Groves or using the boats, but he could see the pedestrian bridge and people crossing towards the old city. He stood a while watching them, enjoying his bird’s-eye view, trying to ignore the heaviness in his heart, wondering when he would hear from the surgeon. Could be that he would never be able to row Alice or the children in a boat again. He remembered how carefree he and Alice had been in the early days of their courtship. They could not afford to take a boat along the river so they had walked along the path. One particular day stood out in his mind. It was a beautiful sunny late spring day and they had walked some distance, leaving the town far behind. They had lain in a field of buttercups, kissing and loving, their eyes only for each other.
Hanny called him and he turned and went inside.
‘You’ll catch your death of cold out there,’ she said, placing a tray on an occasional table close to the fire.
Seb sat down and watched her pour tea into delicate white china cups with gold rims. ‘I meant to ask Alice if she would help me out by doing some baking when we have the twins christened,’ said Hanny. ‘We want to have a bit of a celebration. It won’t be for a while. Eastertide in April, when the weather should be warmer.’
‘I’ll mention it to her. I’m sure she’ll do anything she can to help.’ He thought how he had always found it easy to talk to Hanny but it was ages since they had been alone together like this. He stirred the tea and gulped down a mouthful. ‘You mentioned Joy. How is she? It was terrible Chris Griffiths going missing. He wasn’t even with the Cheshires but with his old Liverpool regiment.’
Hanny agreed. ‘Emma and his sisters and her mother felt his loss even worse than Joy, I think. She seems quite content working for Mrs Black, though.’
He smiled. ‘I still find it incredible that my cousin Clara traced me through Mrs Black. What a woman!’
Hanny smiled. ‘Joy said that she’s gone to Liverpool for the day. As you know, Mrs Black has lots of property over there and so most likely she’s gone on business.’
There was a note in her voice that caused Seb to give her a second look. ‘You say that as if you think she might have had another reason for going.’
She shrugged. ‘Alice and Joy have both mentioned Clara and her grandmother to me. Mrs Black knew the family when she was a girl, so I just wondered…’
Seb was taken aback. ‘You think she’s gone to look up the old woman?’
Hanny’s eyes twinkled. ‘You know how she takes an interest in people.’
‘Too much interest, sometimes,’ he said dryly.
‘You mean Alice still blames her for caring what happened to her father, even when he was no longer one of her clients?’
Seb nodded. ‘D’you think Mrs Black knows where he is?’
‘I’m sure she does. After all, she visited him in the asylum for years. I can’t imagine her just ignoring him once he was released.’
‘Perhaps your Joy knows where he is.’
‘If she does then she’s not cracking on to me.’ Hanny leant back against the cushions. ‘Are you going to tell me why you want to speak to Freddie?’
He drained his cup and placed it on the saucer. ‘I’m hoping he’ll drive me to the funeral. I’ll pay him.’
‘Don’t be daft. He’ll be happy to do it as a favour. Is Alice going, too?’
He shook his head. ‘You know what the pair of them are like when they meet. Right now, Alice is madder with her than ever.’
Hanny did not blame Alice for the way she felt towards Gabrielle. ‘What do you think your mother will do now she’s a widow? Can you see her running the farm on her own?’
He shook his head. ‘She’s never liked the country.’
‘So you think she’ll come back here?’
‘I haven’t thought about it.’
‘Then it’s a case of just waiting and seeing,’ said Hanny.
He agreed.
‘What about you? When are you going to reopen the showroom, advertise and persuade people to buy new cars?’
He shifted restlessly on the sofa and then rose. ‘I don’t know. Alice has written on my behalf to the surgeon who operated on my arm. We’re just waiting for a reply.’
‘You think he might be able to do something more for you?’
‘I’m hoping so. Otherwise…’ Seb did not finish what he was going to say because at that moment there was the sound of the front door below opening.
‘That could be Joy and Mother with the twins,’ said Hanny, getting to her feet.
But it was Freddie. ‘Aye, aye, Captain!’ he said, saluting Seb. ‘What are you doing here?’ He tossed his cap on the table. ‘Any tea in the pot?’
‘I’ll boil some more water,’ said Hanny, smiling lovingly at her younger brother. ‘You talk to Seb. He needs you to drive him to his mother’s place in Delamere.’
‘Oh! Why’s that then?’ asked Freddie, sitting down.
&n
bsp; Seb told him about his uncle’s funeral.
‘Doesn’t sound like much fun,’ said Freddie cheerfully, ‘but I’ll certainly drive you.’
‘Good,’ said Seb, relieved. ‘It’s on Friday. When do you go back to sea?’
‘I’m not going,’ said Freddie. ‘I’ve decided the seafaring life is not for me.’
Seb was taken aback. ‘I thought it was what you always wanted to do.’
‘I’ve changed my mind.’ He rubbed his hands together and blew on them. ‘It’s cold out. It gets even colder at sea. I thought I might work for the company, if you’ll have me?’
Seb laughed. ‘It’s not making enough money at the moment to pay a decent wage to Kenny and myself, and we have to pay the bloke who does the repairs.’
Freddie did not look the least put out. ‘Let’s talk about it downstairs.’
Seb said, ‘OK.’ He wondered what else Freddie had to say to him and asked whether he had spoken to Kenny about working for the company.
Freddie nodded. ‘I thought of maybe going across to the yard and learning motor mechanics from the repair bloke. I don’t expect to get paid. I’m sure business will improve but it may take a bit of time. So in the meantime, I’ll also see what odd jobs I can do to keep body and soul together. I do have some money. Great-aunt Joan left me some and I was paid a lump sum when I left the ship. I might have spent out buying the motorbike but I don’t plan on sponging off my sisters.’
Seb smiled. ‘I’m glad to hear it. Who was this Great-aunt Joan? I don’t remember hearing about her.’
Freddie jingled the change in his pocket. ‘She was Mother’s spinster aunt. She had a house at Moreton-by-the-sea. I vaguely remember staying there when I was young. We used to go cockling. In fact, she left the house to Mother, but what with the way she is now, we haven’t done anything about it. Perhaps in the summer when the weather gets better.’ He grinned. ‘I still love a seaview but don’t want to be on it day after day. Too many memories of being terrified. It was hell knowing the U-boats were lurking not far away, wanting to blow us to bits. We were living on a knife’s edge all the time. It must have been similar for you in the trenches.’
