THE GREAT WAR SAGAS: Box set of 2 passionate and inspiring stories: A Crimson Dawn and No Greater Love

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  ‘You have bonny hair,’ Emmie smiled. ‘Why do you pull it out?’

  The woman stared at her suspiciously, coming to her cell door and gripping the bars. She babbled in her own language.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’ Emmie shrugged helplessly. ‘Why don’t you plait it? You’d suit that.’ Emmie took a coil of her own lank hair and demonstrated.

  The woman stopped her frantic pulling. For a fleeting moment, Emmie saw understanding flicker in her dark eyes as the woman half smiled. Then she was babbling and sobbing again. Emmie gave up.

  The next day, Emmie was transferred to the main hospital wing. It was three days till her release and she was permitted to write a letter home. She composed a brief note to the MacRaes, saying she would make her own way back to Crawdene to collect Barny. She had been allowed no correspondence during the six weeks and had no idea what had been happening in the outside world.

  As she sat on the edge of the bed, finishing the letter, one of the orderlies came in with her dinner. Emmie could see from the grey of her dress that she was an inmate. Emmie barely glanced up as the woman put down the tin of watery potato stew.

  ‘Ta,’ Emmie said. The woman did not hurry away as they usually did.

  ‘Want me to take that for you?’ she asked.

  Emmie looked closer. There was something familiar about the voice, the shape of the face under the voluminous cap. She looked into the woman’s bold dark eyes. It couldn’t be? The woman’s broad mouth pulled into a wry grin.

  ‘Nelly?’ Emmie gasped. ‘It’s never you?’

  Nell gave a snort. ‘And who would have thought the saintly Emmie would’ve ended up in the nick too?’

  ‘Never saintly,’ Emmie laughed.

  ‘No,’ Nell agreed, ‘you were always more trouble than you let on.’

  Emmie gazed at her long-lost sister. She ought to feel angry. The last time they had met, Nell had tried her best to break up her marriage and disappeared with her and Tom’s precious savings. Nell had used them all: Dr Flora, Charles, Tom, herself - even the Reverend Mr Attwater. That was the way her sister was. Yet, after all that had happened, Nell’s faults seemed almost harmless. From the day their father had died, Nell had determined to look after herself.

  ‘Still, you’ll be out shortly,’ Nell said brusquely. ‘Not going on any more peace marches, I don’t suppose?’

  ‘Don’t suppose anything,’ Emmie said stoutly.

  ‘Must be daft,’ Nell retorted. ‘Why do you bother? You could’ve died, from what I hear.’

  ‘I do it because I have to,’ Emmie said simply. ‘For me, there’s no other way to live.’

  Nell shook her head in incomprehension. ‘What about Tom and Barny?’

  ‘I hope Barny’s still there when I get out,’ Emmie said quietly.

  ‘But not Tom?’ Nell questioned. Emmie said nothing. Nell asked, ‘He gave you them marks on your shoulders, didn’t he?’

  Emmie looked at her startled. ‘What marks?’

  ‘I’ve seen them, Emmie, when I washed you down,’ Nell said impatiently. ‘Don’t pretend to me. You’ve got scars from a beating.’

  Emmie looked into Nell’s eyes and nodded. She shuffled over so Nell could sit beside her. ‘Was it you bathing me face when I had the fever?’ she asked.

  Nell sat down. ‘Yes. Someone had to do it. I worked out early on, you get clean sheets and better food if you work in the hospital. It was just chance I looked after you - gave me quite a shock, I can tell you.’

  Emmie was not convinced by her sister’s offhandedness. She covered her hand with hers.

  ‘Ta, Nelly,’ she smiled. ‘I think you saved me.’

  Nell withdrew her hand quickly. ‘No, you saved yourself. You’re a tough ’un underneath that butter-wouldn’t-melt look of yours.’

  Emmie laughed softly. They looked at each other for a long moment.

  ‘Look at the pair of us,’ Nell sighed. ‘Father would spin in his grave.’

  ‘What happened to you?’ Emmie asked.

  Nell fiddled with a loose thread on her sleeve. ‘Went back to Jackman. Things were fine and dandy till he got called up. Tried to get out of it by poisoning his skin with lead, but they saw through it.’ Nell hesitated. ‘The thing was, me and Jackman, we never got wed. So I couldn’t claim his wages. Sent the military round snooping - said I wasn’t a deserving wife - meaning they thought I was a whore.’ She gave Emmie a defensive look. ‘Well, what else could I do without job nor money? So I did what they thought I did anyway. Caught me down the quayside, with a sub-lieutenant. He got told to scarper, I got prison,’ she said with a bitter laugh. ‘Suppose that shocks you?’

  ‘No,’ Emmie replied, ‘nothing about this war shocks me any more. They should’ve paid you Jackman’s wages. You’re not to blame.’

  Nell suddenly smiled. ‘Thanks, Emmie.’

  They reached towards each other and briefly hugged. It felt so good to be touched that Emmie would have hung on, but Nell pulled away. She stood up.

  ‘Gives us the letter and I’ll see it goes in today’s post,’ she offered.

  Emmie put the wafer-thin paper into the envelope and sealed it. She wrote on the MacRaes’ address. Nell glanced at it, but made no comment. She shoved it in her apron and left.

  Afterwards, Emmie wondered if her sister would post it. She still did not trust Nell. She decided it did not matter. Soon she would be free and would make her own way home, even if she had to walk the whole way. She hardly saw her sister again, just once in the distance, to nod to each other. Emmie chided herself for not finding out how long Nell had left inside or where she would go on release. Nell seemed content to bide her time here rather than be left to fend for herself on the streets. All Emmie knew was that her sister was better at surviving than most.

  The day of her release came. Emmie was stripped of her hospital clothes and given back her own. Even in the short period of imprisonment, she had lost so much weight that her skirt hung loose about her hips. They gave her a piece of string to secure it round her waist. She was escorted along the labyrinth of prison corridors, doors unlocking before her, then clanging shut behind. She shuddered at the sound of keys rattling and scraping in the locks as she was marched towards the main gates.

  ‘There’s someone here to collect you,’ the warder said casually, as they crossed the final high-walled courtyard.

  Emmie’s heart leaped. ‘Who?’ she asked.

  ‘Doctor someone,’ the woman answered, unconcerned.

  Emmie’s weak legs began to shake. ‘Dr Jameson?’

  But the woman was talking to the guard, who unbolted a low door cut into the massive iron gates. Then they were pushing Emmie through into the summer sunshine. She blinked, half blinded by dazzling light and the vivid green of a line of trees. The sudden colour made her dizzy. She groped at the wall to steady herself. The next moment, Flora Jameson was rushing towards her, arms outspread, and catching her in a tight embrace.

  ‘Dearest Emmie!’ she cried.

  Emmie clung on, too overcome to laugh or cry. ‘You’re safe,’ she croaked. ‘Thank God.’

  ‘Course I am,’ Flora replied.

  ‘How did you know …?’ Emmie said faintly.

  ‘MacRaes sent me after they got your letter,’ Flora explained. ‘I’ve borrowed the Runcies’ trap.’

  ‘Then they’re all right too?’ Emmie whispered in relief. ‘And Barny?’

  Flora nodded and glanced around. ‘Let’s not talk here. Come along, I’ll tell you as we drive.’

  She helped Emmie over to the horse and trap and pulled her into the seat beside her. As they jogged out of Durham City, Flora told her how the Settlement had been closed down and all their records seized after Osborne’s allegations. A widowed Quaker landowner had offered refuge to the Runcies in a tied cottage.

  ‘That’s where we’re going now,’ Flora said. ‘We thought it wasn’t safe for you to return to Crawdene - not at the moment. This place is quite remote.’r />
  ‘B-but Barny?’ Emmie stammered. ‘I must see him.’

  Flora gave her a reassuring look. ‘Dear girl, of course you will see him. He’s waiting at The Grove for you.’

  Emmie’s spirits soared. Tears of relief welled in her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she sobbed.

  ‘My poor child,’ Flora said in sympathy, ‘you’ve been through such a lot. You look so thin and pale - and you’ve been ill with fever too. I don’t suppose they gave you any of our letters?’

  Emmie shook her head. ‘How did you know I’d been ill?’

  ‘Your note,’ Flora said. ‘One of the warders scribbled on the bottom.’

  Emmie caught her breath. ‘Oh, Nelly! That must have been Nell. She was in there with me - on the hospital ward.’

  This time it was Flora who gasped in shock. Emmie told her all she knew of her sister. Flora was visibly upset by the sudden news.

  ‘Perhaps we could help her when she gets out?’ Emmie suggested.

  Flora gave a long sigh. ‘Perhaps. But, Emmie, I’m leaving the area.’

  ‘Leaving?’ Emmie repeated.

  ‘I’m going to Wales to be near Charles. I hope to be able to visit him at the camp - he’s allowed one visit every month. His morale is low, I can tell from his letters. I intend to stay there until he’s released.’

  ‘But you’ll come back when it’s all over?’ Emmie pleaded. ‘Open the Settlement again?’

  Flora smiled wistfully. ‘We can but hope.’

  After a pause, Emmie forced herself to ask, ‘And Rab? Did he come home?’

  Flora looked ahead as she spoke. ‘Briefly.’

  Emmie’s heart twisted. ‘They’ve arrested him again?’

  ‘No,’ Flora said, giving her a quick flash of a smile, ‘he’s gone into hiding.’

  Emmie’s hands flew to her mouth, stifling a cry of joy. Her vision blurred with tears. ‘That’s grand,’ she whispered. She waited for Flora to say more, but she did not. Perhaps she did not know where he was or did not want to put him in danger by telling even his closest friends.

  They both fell silent as they drove upriver, leaving behind the most westerly pit villages and heading into wooded slopes on the fringes of Weardale. Emmie dozed to the rhythm of the carriage, unable to keep awake, even with the thought of seeing her son again so soon.

  She was woken by Cobbles, the pony, slowing to a walking pace. They were passing through a set of rusty iron gates, half off their hinges. All around them was a canopy of high trees rustling in the June breeze, a cool green haven. Bluebells covered the ground on either side of the mossy track. Emmie’s eyes smarted, her senses overwhelmed by the colours and smells of the woods. She gazed around in wonder. The trees thinned out on to open hillside, with a squat Georgian house sheltering beneath in the distance. It reminded her of the fell above Crawdene.

  ‘The Grove,’ Flora announced. ‘The cottages are down by the river.’

  In front spread rough pasture, running down to a narrow fast-flowing river. There appeared to be no sign of habitation, just sheep grazing. But as they dipped down along the stony track, they suddenly came across a row of low wooden cottages tucked in under the bank. Narrow cultivated gardens ran down to the river edge.

  Playing outside one, surrounded by ducks, was a small, dark-haired boy. Emmie’s breath caught in her throat. At the same time, the boy saw the carriage appear and he began to run, the ducks chasing after him. Emmie almost fell from the trap in her haste to reach her son. She was shaking and crying as she stumbled forward, blinded by tears of joy.

  ‘Mammy!’ Barny shouted in delight. ‘Mammy!’

  A moment later, he was jumping into her arms, amid a cacophony of ducks. Emmie fell to her knees, hugging him fiercely and squeezing her eyes shut.

  ‘My darlin’, darlin’ lad!’ she sobbed and laughed in the same breath. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

  The ducks scattered as a shadow fell over them. Wiping away tears, Emmie looked up. Squinting, she saw a man smiling over them.

  ‘Welcome home, Emmie,’ he said warmly.

  It was Rab.

  Chapter 33

  For a long moment, Emmie stared up at Rab. He was thinner, gaunt around the eyes, his chin clean-shaven to reveal hollowed cheeks. But his smile was broad and his blue eyes shone with warmth. Emmie clutched Barny, unable to stand.

  ‘Oh, Rab,’ she whispered. ‘Have I died and gone to Heaven?’

  He laughed softly. ‘This is as near as it gets, lass.’

  Barny struggled out of her hold, eager to show her the cottage and the ducks. He gabbled about the number of ducklings.

  ‘We feed them every day, don’t we, Rab? And Mr Runcie helps us get them in the shed at night ‘cos the fox will come and gobble them all up.’

  ‘Haway, Barny,’ Rab grinned, ‘let’s get your mam indoors. She’s had a long journey and she’s tired.’ Rab leaned down and reached for Emmie. ‘Put your arms round me neck.’

  Emmie did so, but as he pulled her up she gasped in pain. Her whole body felt tender to the touch. Rab’s face creased in concern.

  ‘Oh, Emmie, what have they done to you?’ he said angrily.

  She crumpled at his words. ‘Hold me,’ she croaked. ‘Please hold me.’

  Gently, Rab gathered her into his arms and she dissolved into tears. Behind them, Flora called to Barny to help her with Cobbles, and the boy ran to her.

  ‘Rab,’ Emmie sobbed, ‘I’ve dreamed of this so many times. In prison - it kept me from madness. The thought of seeing Barny again - and you …’

  Rab kissed her tenderly on her forehead. ‘It was the same for me. I’m going to care for you now,’ he promised.

  Lifting her up, he carried her down the bank. She weighed nothing in his arms. Emmie studied his face, hungering for every detail, joyful to be in his arms at last, even though it hurt her physically. She did not want to know how little time they might have, or think of the future. All she wanted was for that moment to go on for ever; Rab holding her in the June sunshine, the air so clear she could hear the sheep grazing, and Barny’s high-pitched chatter as he helped tether Cobbles.

  Rab took her into the first of the cottages. Up close, the buildings appeared dilapidated, patched together with bits of boarding, chicken wire, railway sleepers and carriage windows. Inside, the cottage looked less like an allotment shed. It was sparsely furnished, with a bed, small table, two stools and an armchair. But there were mats on the floor and red gingham curtains and a stove that gave out the sweet, aromatic scent of burning wood.

  As Rab laid her on the bed, she noticed a tea chest of clothes - hers and Barny’s. Another one was upturned by the bed. On it was a candle and the poetry book Rab had given her so long ago. He pulled the rough woollen cover around her.

  ‘I’ll make you some tea,’ he offered.

  But Emmie held on to his hand. ‘Sit with me first.’

  He smiled and sat down, cradling her hand in his.

  ‘Tell me about this place,’ Emmie murmured.

  ‘It was built by pitmen - evicted in the strike of 1910. Mr Calvert, who owns this land, let the families come here. They would’ve starved otherwise. Huts have been empty till the Runcies came.’

  ‘Who else is here?’ Emmie asked.

  ‘Apart from the Runcies, just me and Laurie Bell in the house next door. We were in prison together.’

  ‘The postman?’

  Rab nodded. ‘He’s in bad health. Told him to gan for a medical - the army would exempt him now. But he’s that pigheaded. Said if they won’t give him absolute exemption for being a CO then they can go to the Devil.’

  ‘Sounds like someone else I know.’ Emmie gave him a wry look. ‘This Mr Calvert is taking a great risk having you here, isn’t he?’

  ‘Aye,’ Rab agreed, ‘these Quakers are grand people. If the military come for us, Laurie and me will say we’ve just arrived - squatted without the owner’s knowledge. Calvert doesn’t even know our names, so he has nothing to hide if questioned.�
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  ‘Still, it’s dangerous,’ Emmie worried. She put his hand to her lips and kissed it. ‘I don’t blame you not wanting to gan back to gaol. Six weeks was an eternity. Don’t know how you managed a year - not the way they tret the likes of us.’

  Rab moved closer, smoothing back her limp hair. ‘Emmie! I’m not frightened of going back - though there were times I nearly gave up. I’ve gone on the run so I can be near you. I needed to find out how you felt - after I wrote that letter. I know you said you’d chosen Tom, but I know what he did to you, Emmie. You don’t have to stay with him. I can’t offer you a soldier’s pay or even a proper roof over our heads, but I can love you more than he ever will.’ He looked at her with fierce eyes. ‘I love you more than any other man ever could. But it’s a dangerous future I’m offering, Emmie, for you and the lad. I’ll not blame you if you turn it down. I just want to know if my love is returned.’

  Emmie’s tears spilled down her pale cheeks, her eyes huge and dark-ringed.

  ‘I’ve always loved you,’ she whispered. ‘How did you never see it, you foolish man?’ She gave a choking laugh. ‘I’m not afraid of danger, nor do I care about the future.’ She reached out and touched his face. ‘If we only have a month together - a week, a day - it will be worth it. Whatever happens, I will always love you, Rab, always.’

  He gave a small, exultant cry and pulled her into his arms. Tenderly he kissed her lips for the first time.

  At that moment, Barny ran in. ‘Mammy, don’t gan to bed. Come and see the ducks. Aunt Flora’s coming in the boat. You come too, Mammy.’

  Reluctantly, Rab and Emmie pulled apart. ‘Your mam needs to rest,’ Rab told him firmly. Barny’s face fell. ‘But I’ll take you out in the boat,’ Rab promised. The boy brightened at once.

  ‘You sleep, Mammy,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll fetch a fish for tea.’

  Emmie smiled at them both. ‘That’s grand, bonny lad.’

  She watched them go, then sank back into the bed. It smelled of camphor and traces of Barny. Emmie closed her eyes, feeling at peace for the first time in months. The last thing she heard was the splash of ducks on water and her son’s laughter, before she fell into exhausted sleep.