Rising to his feet, he brushed the tears from his cheeks and looked helplessly at his mother.
"She has been like this for some time now, Tony. Nothing we do or say seems to help."
Tony saw the pain in his mother’s eyes, and put his arms around her to comfort her. How difficult it must be for her to stand by and watch her mother deteriorate. They embraced in silence for a time. Then his mother stepped back and dabbed at her eyes with a delicate lace handkerchief. She smiled through her tears.
"I am sorry, Tony. This is not the homecoming I would have planned for you."
Tony returned her smile. "I'm so glad to see you again, Mamma. I've missed you." His mother looked tired. The worry of his grandmother, and probably the lack of news from him, had worn her down. He decided to lie to her so that she would not think that he had forgotten her. "Did you get my letters from America?"
His mother frowned and shook her head. "No. We had no letters from you."
"Damn the Post Office!" Tony turned towards the window as he spoke so that she would not see the lie in his eyes. "I wrote to you three or four times. I wondered why you didn't reply."
Louise Kemshall sighed. "That explains it. Your father was very angry that you did not write. He said you were too busy enjoying yourself in the land of plenty to think of us."
Tony turned to her, tight lipped. Enjoying himself? If only she knew!
"Is he in his study? I suppose I ought to speak to him."
Louise shook her head. "No. He went up to town yesterday. He is coming back on the afternoon train. He should be here in about an hour. That will give me time to get some dinner ready."
Tony raised his eyebrows. "Retreating into the kitchen? I thought you might want to talk with me. After all, we haven't seen each other for almost half a year."
Louise smiled conspiratorially. "Yes, and it is half a year since you saw that nurse up at the big house who you seemed so fond of. Why not take a walk up there and see if she is free?"
"You don't mind?"
Louise laughed, the first laugh since his return. He was glad to hear it.
“No, of course not! I was young myself once, believe it or not!"
Tony hugged his mother. "Thank you Mamma! I'll be back in time to meet Father."
He turned and hurried from the room, rushing out into the chill October afternoon and walking briskly towards the welcoming facade of Heronfield House. But as he approached the only home he had ever known, his steps slowed. Sarah’s letters were like a lead weight in his breast pocket, close to his heart, and he began to worry about the reception he would receive. His feet were almost dragging as he finally entered the hall, his heart beating wildly and his palms sweaty. He was afraid, far more so than when about to set out on a sabotage raid. If he had not been so nervous, he would have laughed at himself. Turning towards the reception desk, cap in hand, he spoke to the young nurse who looked up at his approach.
"Is it possible for me to see Nurse Sarah Porter, please?"
The nurse looked down at her papers. "I'm afraid she’s on duty at the moment. But if you'd care to wait in the library, I'll see if she can be spared."
"Thank you." Tony turned away.
"The library is over..."
"Thank you" interrupted Tony, "I can find my own way."
He crossed the hall and went through the door into the library. As he closed it gently behind him he was thankful to be alone. He would not like to have this talk with Sarah with someone else present. Perhaps he should take her for a walk in the grounds? It might help to talk in places that held happy memories for them both. He went over to the window and looked out. It was beginning to rain, so the idea of a walk was out. As he waited he wondered what to say to her, his mind full of thoughts and ideas which would not come together. How could he explain, when he was not able to tell her the truth?
"Oh, it's you."
Tony spun round. He had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he had not heard the door open. Sarah stood in the doorway, a frown furrowing her brow. Tony felt his heart stand still. She looked puzzled, maybe a little annoyed. But it did not matter to him, all he saw was her beauty. He just stared for a long moment, drinking in the sight of her, wanting to hold her and thank her for the love they shared, a love which had kept him alive during the darkest hours of his life. Then he noticed the frown was still there, and his warm welcoming smile faded.
"I've just got back home, so I came straight round to see you."
"Why?" Sarah’s voice was hard. Tony was the last person she had expected to see. She was not prepared for the conflicting emotions she felt. Her most overwhelming feeling was relief to see him safe, a love so strong that she wanted him to put his arms around her and hold her close, to kiss her and tell her that he felt the same way. Yet, beneath those feelings was the hard core she had forced herself to build in her heart, knowing that he did not care for her. To get involved with him once more would only cause her more heartache.
"I just wanted to see you and talk to you." Tony realised that this was going to be far more difficult than he had anticipated. "Please come in and close the door,"
"What have we got to talk about?"
To Tony’s relief, Sarah stepped into the room and closed the door behind her as she spoke. He smiled and stepped towards her.
“It’s so good to see you, Sarah. I've missed you so much."
The words touched Sarah deeply. He sounded so sincere. His eyes seemed to speak to her of the depth of his feelings. Yet she would not allow herself to believe him.
"If you missed me so much, why didn't you reply to my letters?" Her words were harsh, filled with pain and rejection. Tony’s heart went out to her as he reached into his breast pocket and took out the small bundle of envelopes.
"I've only just got them, Sarah. They weren't forwarded to me as I’d requested. They were waiting for me when I arrived back in England."
Sarah looked deep into his eyes and could see there that there was no dishonesty in his words. It was true then; he had not received her letters. She took a hesitant step towards him, then stopped.
"That's no excuse, Tony. You knew where I was. If you’d missed me as much as you say, you could have written to me here."
"I'm sorry, Sarah. I was just so busy, and when I didn't get a letter from you, I didn't know if you wanted me to write." Tony knew it was a feeble excuse and hated himself for lying, but he did not know what else to say. Sarah seemed so far away from him now. She had been much closer to him in the cell in Saint Nazaire, and he did not know how to breach the barrier between them.
"Did you meet someone else? Is that it, Tony?"
Tony was stunned. "No! Of course not! You know how much I love you, Sarah!" His eyes were soft, warm, inviting. Sarah wanted to rush into his arms, forget about the past and look forward only to a future with him. But she held back. There was no getting past the fact that if he really loved her he would have written at least one letter in the six months they had been apart.
"How can I be sure that you love me, Tony? How can I know that you're not just using me?"
Tony felt as though the walls were rushing in on him. What could he do? What could he say? An idea exploded in his mind. His eyes lit up in excitement and he opened his mouth to speak. Then he closed it again, as the fire in his eyes was quenched by reason. He had been about to ask her to marry him. Surely that would prove his love for her? But what would happen to their relationship when he had to lie to her again? What would he tell her if he were sent back to France? He wanted to marry her, more than anything in the world he wanted that, but he knew that they could never build a lasting marriage on a foundation of lies. Finally his shoulders slumped in defeat. He shrugged.
"All I can do is say that I love you, and hope that you will believe me."
She wanted to. She saw the fear of rejection in his eyes and wanted to believe him. But that would leave too many uncertainties, too many unanswered questions. Sadly Sarah shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Tony. I don't know what to think or believe any more." She frowned. "You’ve been gone so long, and I don't know what you've been doing or anything. How can I be expected to believe you if you won't tell me the truth?" She waited, heart in her mouth. She had done what she could. It was up to Tony now.
"Please understand that this is war, Sarah. I can't tell you." Tony’s eyes were pleading.
Sarah felt her anger rising. Why was he deliberately making it so difficult for her?
"Surely you can tell me something? The soldiers upstairs tell me what they've been doing. I've seen so many while you've been away. Have you heard what happened at Dieppe? So many dead and wounded while you were off enjoying yourself in America!" She was almost shouting now.
"Enjoying myself? It was hardly that!"
"Have you asked for a transfer to active service yet?"
"Yes, but it was refused. What has that got to do with it anyway?"
"Everything. I’m sure that if you had been insistent they would have given you a transfer, but you don't seem to care about anything important. You’re prepared to let other people do the fighting, while you take the easy way out. It's the same with our relationship. You pretend you care when you're here, but once you’re away it's out of sight out of mind. And you haven't got the courage to tell me!"
"Are you saying I'm a coward?"
Sarah said nothing. That was not what she had intended to say at all. She just wanted to push him into doing or saying something to prove that he really did care. But it was obvious to her now that that was not going to happen. There was silence for a time as they each struggled with their emotions. Finally Tony spoke.
"Don't you love me anymore, Sarah?"
His voice was soft, gentle, full of pain. In his eyes she saw the Tony who had befriended her, whom she had grown to love through the caring way he had helped her to get over Joe’s death. But she was no longer sure that the man she saw now was the only Tony. There were so many facets to his character that she did not understand. She knew she could never be happy with him, knowing that so much of his life was a secret to her. She closed her eyes and her shoulders slumped. She looked so dejected that Tony wanted to reach out and take her in his arms, to hold her close and never let her go again. If he had, maybe things would have turned out differently. But life is not built on maybes.
"Yes, I still love you." Sarah opened her eyes and looked directly at him, tears blurring her vision. "I think I shall always love you, but it’s not enough. If you can’t trust me enough to tell me your secrets, then you can’t love me."
"But I do!" Tony cried out, sensing that she was drawing away, and trying desperately to prevent that. His worst nightmares seemed to be coming true, and he did not know what to do.
Sarah shook her head. “No, Tony. Perhaps you think you do, but your actions don't show it. Maybe one day you’ll be able to put others before yourself. When you find yourself able to fight for your country, to do what your family want you to do, to love me as much as I love you without holding back, then perhaps I’ll believe you."
"Just give me a chance, Sarah. I'll prove it!" Tony was frantic. He could feel her slipping away from him. The only way to stop her was to tell her why he hadn't written, why he had not applied for active service. For a moment he was tempted. Tell her everything, and damn S.O.E.! He had a life too, didn't he? Surely he was entitled to some happiness after what he had been through? He held out his hands, imploring her to see his love for in his eyes and not to turn away. But it was hopeless.
"I'm sorry, Tony. You're just not ready for the kind of love and commitment I need. I don't feel I can settle for anything less."
Tony felt as though the world had stopped revolving, as though life itself was ending. The tears welled up in his eyes.
"Please don't end it like this, Sarah."
Hearing his imploring words, seeing his unhappiness, sensing a pain which she could not understand, Sarah almost relented. Then she remembered the long weeks and months waiting for a letter that never came, while sacks of mail from America were arriving every day for the GIs down the road. He had not cared enough to write. His excuse had just been an act. Maybe his professed love for her was just an act too. She shook her head sadly.
"I'm sorry, Tony. Goodbye."
Without another word Sarah turned and left the room. As Tony watched her walk away he felt as though he were dying inside. All he had held in his heart, all that had shone as a beacon, keeping him alive and drawing him home, lay shattered on the rocks of hurt and misunderstanding. In that moment, he wished that he had died in France believing that she was waiting for him. It would have been far less painful than this rejection. He watched Sarah mount the stairs, stiff-backed and erect. But he did not see her crumple as she turned the corner out of his sight. Nor was he aware of her anguished sobs. All he knew was that Sarah was no longer his and that life had no meaning now.
Tony found himself on the steps leading up to the lodge and wondered how he had got there. His clothes were soaking wet and his hair was plastered against his skull so he knew he must have been walking in the light rain for some time. But he did not know where he had been, or for how long. His mind was a blank. With a sigh he made his way inside, only to be confronted by his father with a face like thunder.
"There you are at last! Where have you been, boy? Your mother had dinner ready hours ago! You've been away for six months, then come back late for your first meal at home! I think we'd better have a talk in my study."
Tony felt tired, too tired for another confrontation, but he knew it could not be avoided. He forced a smile.
"It's good to see you too, Dad."
Sir Michael glared, then turned to lead the way into the study.
Tony followed his father into the room where Sir Michael positioned himself with his back to the window, hands clenched behind him. Tony decided to take the initiative. The last thing he wanted now was an argument with his father. He smiled weakly.
"It really is good to see you, Dad. I've missed you while I've been away."
Sir Michael’s features softened a little.
"We've missed you too, son. We need someone young to bring a little life back into this house." Sir Michael was struggling to keep his voice even, confused by his emotions. He really had missed Tony and was glad to see him safe. But at the same time he felt angry and resentful. Why? Surely he did not resent his younger son because his first-born had died in battle? What was he doing, always picking an argument whenever his son paid one of his rare visits home? He wanted Tony to stay at home, to be safe and to come through this war alive, yet at the same time he felt that no one was trying to avenge David’s death. It was as if he were the only one who cared, the only one who had been hurt by the family’s loss in the Battle of Britain. As he struggled with his conflicting emotions a frown creased his brow. Tony mistook it for returning anger.
"I'm sorry I missed dinner, Dad. It was Mamma’s idea that I go up to the house and let my friend know I'm here."
"But she expected you back for dinner! As soon as you left the house she searched the larder for all the special things she had saved. She made the best meal she could as a welcome for you, but you couldn't even be bothered to turn up!" Sir Michael found his anger and confusion rising again, but did not seem able to control them. "Do you care so little for your mother? You didn’t even write to her while you were away. David would never have behaved like that!"
"But I'm not David, Dad. I'm Tony. Anyway, I did write but my letters don't seem to have arrived."
"Do you expect me to believe that? Surely one of your letters would have got through?"
Tony had nothing to say. His father was right, it was a feeble excuse.
"I don't think you realise just how difficult things have been here in the last few months. Your mother needed to hear from you."
Tony was deeply hurt by Sarah’s rejection, tired by the constant jibing from his father. It seemed as though no one appreciated what he had done
, that the whole world had turned against him.
"I've had a difficult time too, you know!"
"Difficult?" Sir Michael snorted in disgust. "We all know what it's like in America, the GI's are always so pleased to tell us. Few shortages, no bombing, life going on as normal. You call that difficult? Try living here with a poor old woman who feels guilty about leaving her home and responsibilities and wants to return to an occupied country! Try living with a woman who mourns the death of her first-born son! Try being a father who would give anything to put on a uniform and avenge the death of that son!"
Tony’s heart went out to his father, and he tried to bridge the gulf between them.
"I miss David too, Dad, we all do. And I promise, his death will be avenged."
“When, Tony? And by whom? It should be the duty of his family to go out there and finish what he started. To defeat the Germans and make sure his death was not in vain!" He looked quizzically at his younger son. "When are you going to apply for a transfer to active service?"
Tony had known it was coming, had sensed that the argument would take the usual turn. Why should he be banned from telling the people he loved that he had already seen active service, that he had already avenged David’s death many times over? He wished he had never joined S.O.E. but had gone straight into a conventional active unit; then he thought of the comradeship and the successes, and knew he could do nothing else. He decided to tell a part of the truth. But, deep inside, he knew it would not be enough.
"I've already applied for a transfer, Father."
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