Remembrance Day

by Leah Fleming

  He smiled and looked sheepish. Perhaps later, his eyes were pleading. Now was not the time for any showdown. He had come to Selma first and that must be enough for now.

  ‘How long have you got?’ Selma could not resist this most important of questions as he turned to leave.

  ‘Just five days,’ he whispered. ‘It takes so long to get here, Selma.’

  Only five days of leave…after all this time, and his mother and brother desperate for him after their sad loss. She mustn’t be selfish, but just to see him standing there, smiling at her…Oh, Guy, please come back before you go, she sighed. Any crumb of his company would do.

  Guy was so confused by the sight of Selma standing like a soldier in trousers, her dark hair cropped, her brown eyes flashing, caught like rabbit in a Very light. Dear Selma, he hadn’t realised how physically he was attracted to her until now, and then for poor Mother to come in, all guns blazing. This was not how it was supposed to be, this unexpected homecoming. Already he felt like a stranger in a foreign land where roses bloomed and green fields were undamaged, no wooden crosses nor bloated horseflesh rotting by the roadside, and cottages standing, not stoved in by shells.

  England was going on undisturbed, with stations full of weary soldiers like himself staggering home with dead eyes, uniforms covered in lice. He had dreamed of this moment for so long and now it felt awkward and unreal. His world was back there in the trenches with his men, with Bostock fussing over him and HQ breathing down his neck.

  For the first time he felt nervous as they drove up to Waterloo House. It wasn’t true that everything was unchanged; even Selma had cut her hair. There were vegetables growing on verges and in parks, and even in the gardens here. Everyone seemed to be wearing black, and there were queues for food in the shops. This was a different sort of war.

  ‘I’d better warn you,’ said Mother, ‘we’ve made a few changes. I’ve got a contingent of six officers coming any day and the whole house is turned upside down to accommodate them. But after your father…well, it seemed the right thing to do. I wasn’t expecting you, so we’ve made no extra provisions. If only you’d written earlier.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I should have sent a telegram.’

  ‘And scared the wits out of me? No, this is a wonderful surprise—even if we’re to come second after that girl.’

  ‘Selma—she has a name, Mother.’

  ‘Whatever…The war has done her no favours, coarsened her looks—and short hair!’

  ‘But she’s doing her war service as she thinks fit. What have you got against her?’ He was not going to be bullied by these cutting remarks, not when he had been through such hell.

  ‘Oh, Guy, as if I have to explain that…She’s not your type, no refinements at all.’

  ‘But I like Selma, I always have. She’s a lovely girl and writes funny letters.’

  ‘I’m sure she does, to entrap you into some engagement. A girl like that wants to better herself, that’s all. She’s not for you, son,’ said his mother, staring up at him with steel in her eyes.

  ‘I’ll choose who is or isn’t for me. Don’t tell me how to spend my time. I may not have much of it left,’ he replied, staring away into the distance to the green open spaces he loved so much.

  ‘Guy, please, don’t talk like that! We’ve had our loss. You will live, but not to…Have your fling if you must. Get all this youthful lust out of your system, but don’t tie yourself in knots to the first pretty girl who flashes her eyes in your direction. Take a mother’s warning. Look, there’s Angus. Go and give him a surprise and we’ll talk no more about this. Don’t let’s quarrel on your leave. I’ll get Cook to make a wonderful supper this evening.’

  But Guy wasn’t hungry any more.

  Oh, Guy, Guy, don’t waste your time courting when we have seen so little of you.

  Hester didn’t want to let him out of her sight now he was here, to have him breathing the same air, smiling, looking so young and handsome and alive when there was nothing but doom and gloom all around. He lit up her life with his grin and his mischievous blue eyes, her beautiful boy, and she could forgive him for taking a peek at the girl from the forge who was stealing his heart—for the moment.

  What on earth could he see in such a common trollop? She was a disgrace to her fair sex, war work or not. How could he waste precious time on such a creature?

  If he wanted girls she would rustle up a few beauties, nice gals, not village harpies. Even Dr Mac’s two daughters would be a better substitute than that girl.

  He’d got only a few days and she’d make sure he didn’t spend another minute with that Bartley brat. He would only make trouble for himself there if he did.

  All she could think of was, would Guy call back? Would he risk his mother’s wrath and visit again? As the hours of that first day ticked by Selma felt an excruciating panic and anguish. What if he went back without seeing her, without a chance for them just to talk?

  Outside, the summer days were flying by. It didn’t last long in these parts. There had been some wet weeks but now the sunshine was beautiful. The swallows were darting overhead and swifts circling high, the smell of fresh-cut hay scenting the air. Their time was so short, and there was nothing she could do but agonise.

  Now was the busiest time for the blacksmith, with haymaking in full swing. Broken tools needed fettling up and she couldn’t just down her work and meander off in the direction of Waterloo House on the off chance, however much she wanted to.

  Mam could read her agitation. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘If I read that young man, he won’t leave without saying goodbye to his friends. Your dad told me his ma weren’t right pleased with him for calling on you first. She’s going to have to learn to let go, is that one. Isn’t it enough she’s got one of them twins by her side already?’

  ‘But I looked such a fright, he didn’t recognise me!’

  ‘Take yerself off for a dip in the river, a bit of a paddle. You can rinse the dust out of your hair. I’m getting to like that bob now. It shines like a conker when it’s washed.’

  Her father, however, was agitated, watching her for any slackening of pace. ‘You’re too young for walking out yet. And I wouldn’t go looking in that direction. Toffs stick with their own, as a general rule, so don’t get your hopes up. He’s a soldier on leave. I’ve heard tales of what they can get up to. No girl of mine is going to be mucked about, gentleman or not. He’s a man now, with a man’s needs, no doubt. You must remember who you are, young lady; chapel born and bred…far too young to be wed, but his mother will make sure he never puts a ring on your finger, if I know her sort.’

  ‘It’s not like that…we’re just good friends, pen pals,’ she argued, knowing that this was not strictly true.

  ‘That’s all right then, isn’t it?’

  Why was everyone going on about it as if there could ever be a future between the two of them? It wasn’t that she didn’t feel something much more. When he had stood there in his uniform she wanted to fling herself into his arms.

  All those letters and feelings shared, all the personal stuff they’d written, the things he’d told her about his fears and nightmares. He had drawn them so close. She wanted to see Guy again, but what if he didn’t call?

  Guy wanted to slip away after supper, back down to the village to see Selma. He’d brought her a little gift in his kitbag, some French perfume in a pretty bottle.

  But Angus was exhausting, pumping him dry with questions and his own theories on the war. He was so desperate to know what was going on but Guy was in no mood for going over the realities of his soldiering. He felt protective of his family, not wanting them to know just how awful it was out there, especially for the lower ranks. His brother was hanging on his every word as if it were gospel and sadly Guy felt the difference between them had grown with every day he’d been away. He felt as old as the hills, while Angus was little more than a schoolboy with all his ideals intact, untempered by battle.

  He’d made plans for
them both to go out hiking tomorrow. ‘There’s this spiffing pothole over the Ridge with a fantastic open cave. Let’s go and explore,’ Angus said, but Guy was noncommittal. Mother was arranging a farewell soiree with some of the Bellerby clan, which sounded utterly boring—listening to ladies warbling at the piano and having to make polite conversation. Even she was sucking out all his energy, fussing about the state of his uniform. It had been sent to the laundry to be defumigated and steamed back into shape. She was appalled at the state of his back from the bites and scratching, insisting he bathe in Jeyes fluid and burn his underwear. Now he just wanted to be left alone to sleep off this dreadful hangover of guilt that he was living in comfort while his men were out there. Here he was drinking Pouilly-Fuissé with fresh trout and garden vegetables, raspberries and cream, while they were dining on bully beef and hard biscuits.

  The house was looking like a boarding school dorm with a line of beds all made up for the poor sods in convalescence. Part of him envied their chance to gaze out over the hills. The other part of him was wondering what had happened to his company. Had they gone back into the reserve line? Would they be dispersed to make up the numbers in other companies? But most of all, he just ached to see Selma again, ached for a woman’s touch, the tenderness of young arms. He was a man with a man’s feelings rising in his body. He didn’t want to leave this earth without even kissing her lips, without making love. He didn’t want to die a virgin.

  There were brothels officers could use if they needed to relieve themselves but he was squeamish and didn’t want to catch a disease. Battle fatigue stifled any urge in that direction for him, in any case. He just wanted the real thing: the loving of a genuine girl. He was sure Selma felt the same. He’d seen that look in her eyes when he left the forge. She wanted him as much as he wanted her and there wasn’t much time. He had to see her again.

  Right now, he felt like knocking on her cottage door and demanding to take her out for the evening but it was late and not proper. But if he wrote her a note? It would be like old times up on the Ridge, riding out together as if this war had never happened. Surely no one could begrudge him some time alone with his friend, his girlfriend? It didn’t matter what Mother thought. He was going to follow his heart’s desire.

  How time flew when you were in fear of your life in battle, and now on this leave it was also fleeing too quickly. How he wanted time to stretch out endlessly. So he must take control, make it happen, or the chance would drift away and he’d be on that ship back to Calais, perhaps never to return…

  Guy was waiting outside the forge at the end of her afternoon shift. The sun was still high in the sky and he had Jemima saddled up.

  ‘I’ve told your mother I’m taking you for a picnic,’ he said with a grin. ‘She doesn’t mind.’

  ‘But I mind, dressed like this,’ Selma croaked, squirming with pleasure at seeing him.‘Give me five minutes to change.’ She dashed to the cottage.

  Asa Bartley, meanwhile, glowered at Guy. ‘You might think you can get round her mother but I’m another kettle of fish, young man. So don’t go a-putting silly ideas in her head. You’ll be off tomorrow, she has to live in this village.’

  ‘Mr Bartley, Selma will be treated as any young lady—with the utmost respect.’ Guy was blushing at the bluntness of his suggestion.

  ‘That’s all right then. Just have her back before dark. I don’t want tongues wagging.’

  Selma had overheard this exchange on her return. She’d swapped her forge garb for her best cotton dress and her new birthday cardigan.

  ‘Take no notice of him,’ she whispered. ‘Bye, Dad!’

  ‘We’re just going over the Ridge for old times’ sake, Mr Bartley. And thank you for letting Selma ride with me.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. If it were up to me…Nay, but she knows what I think. It’s her mother’s doing. You have to thank her. She’s got a soft heart in these matters.’ Asa fobbed them off with a wave of his hand. ‘Be off with you and mind what I said. What’ll I tell her ladyship if she sends out a search party?’

  ‘Just tell her truth,’ said Guy. ‘She’ll understand,’ he lied. His mother would be livid, jealous, but he didn’t care. It was his leave.

  They sat on the top of the Ridge munching cucumber and salmon sandwiches with the crusts cut off. Beside Selma sat a bowl of strawberries and slices of the lightest sponge cake. Guy had given her the perfume and the scent was perfect.

  But there was no container in the world big enough to bottle up this afternoon: this surprise, the perfect weather, the warmth of the sun in her face, the view down the valley and Guy’s arm round her shoulder. They had shared the ride and strolled and talked and laughed and teased each other.

  For as long as she lived, she sensed, this might be one of the best afternoons of her life. It was so romantic, so precious, everything she could have dreamed of, except that this would be the one and only chance for them to be alone. Lady Hester would see to that. This was their moment and Selma was not going to waste a minute of it thinking about the opposition or the war that was keeping them apart. It was far away over the hills in another country.

  Guy lay back, smiling, his arms over his head. ‘You can’t beat Yorkshire on a day like this,’ he said. ‘Shall we stop the clock, right here, right now?’

  ‘I wish…’ Selma sighed, lying back, staring at him, smiling.

  ‘What do you wish?’ he asked.

  ‘I wish I could speak more like you and dress like a proper lady so when you looked at me you didn’t see my dirty fingernails and rough hands.’

  ‘Stop right here!’ Guy put his finger on her lips. ‘You are perfect to me as you are so don’t spoil the moment.’ He leaned over and kissed her on the lips, a gentle kiss filled with promise. Then he held her close, crushing his body onto hers with an urgency and hardness he’d never done before. ‘Selma, I just want to love you and hold you.’

  ‘I know, I want you too,’ she whispered, giving into his passionate feelings. Then Guy’s hand moved across her breast and down to her thighs. She felt a flicker of fear and uncertainty. She suddenly had a vision of a stallion serving a mare. There was no shame in that but she felt a stab of fear now. Things were moving too fast, and she wasn’t ready yet.

  ‘No! I’m not sure…’ She turned her head from his embrace, suddenly cold, alert and afraid.

  ‘But, Selma, you’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. I just want us to be as close as a man can be to a woman.’ He was groaning, lost in his own passion, but Selma pushed him away.

  ‘You know, it’s not right. I promised my dad…I’d not bring shame to the family. I’m not ready yet…it’s too soon.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Guy was fumbling with his clothes. ‘I didn’t think…I thought you wanted the same. You see, there’s so little time.’ His voice was far away as if he was in some dream world of his own.‘I obviously got it all wrong, forgive me.’ He sat up, not looking at her, and Selma felt sick.

  ‘It’s been so lovely. It’s just…I’m still young, a bit young for all that,’ she tried explaining, hoping he could see her dilemma. She hadn’t washed, her underwear was shabby and no one had ever seen her naked. How could she explain without hurting his feelings?

  ‘Of course, I understand. Think nothing of it,’ he replied, but he still didn’t look at her.

  This was terrible, the worst of misunderstandings. He was expecting her to make love, while she was content with a kiss and a cuddle. Suddenly she felt so silly and naïve, raw and unsophisticated, and all she could think to say was, ‘I’m not that sort of girl. Just because I’m a blacksmith’s daughter doesn’t mean I’m easy like that. You are the only lad I’ve ever kissed. I’m just not ready.’ She knew they weren’t the right words.

  ‘So you keep saying. Message received and understood,’ he snapped.

  ‘Now you are cross with me. I’ve spoiled everything.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, of course not. Just a little misunderstanding, that’s all�
�Come on, I promised to get you home before dark. Up we get. You were right to be cautious. It’s just I haven’t got much time.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she said.

  ‘Well, once I go back to the front, who knows what will happen to me?’

  ‘Oh, please don’t say that. You didn’t come up here just to have your way with me in case you never got another chance, did you?’

  ‘No, of course not. How could you even think that? But when you’re going into battle you take your chances when you can.’

  ‘I see…So I’m one of your chances then, am I?’ Selma retorted angrily.

  ‘No. I’m not making myself clear.’ Guy paused to look down at her, a flash of anger in his eyes.

  ‘No, you’re not.’ Selma returned a hard look.

  ‘Oh, forget it.’

  Guy stormed off with Jemima while Selma followed, sick at heart. They walked down the hill in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

  If only you could have waited a few more days so I could get used to the idea but you pounced on me. She felt the salt of the tears dripping down her cheeks. Tomorrow he’d be gone and probably never speak to her again.

  You absolute chump, you’ve ruined everything now, upset her feelings, rushed things too much. Why couldn’t you hold back a second, do a recce, test the waters instead of thinking with your dick?

  Guy escorted her back to the cottage, leaving her at the gate. ‘Look here,’ he spluttered. ‘I’ve messed things up between us, haven’t I? Sorry old thing.’

  ‘I’m sorry for not coming up to scratch,’ Selma stuttered. ‘It’s not that I don’t feel the same but…’

  ‘Say no more. I don’t want us to part on bad terms. You will keep on writing? I didn’t mean to hurt you.’ The thought of not having her letters to look forward too was unbearable.

  ‘Of course I will, and thank you for the lovely picnic. It was very thoughtful and just perfect.’ Now she was being polite and that made things even worse. ‘Until I spoiled things.’

  No one spoke, each desperately trying to end on a hopeful note. Selma reached up and kissed him. ‘Safe journey and I will pray for your safe return. Nothing has changed…I promise.’ She smiled that wonderful dark-eyed flash of mischief. If only it were so, he sighed.