When the Bough Breaks

by Connie Monk

  The evenings were the most difficult times. No one talked as they ate their supper, but there was nothing comfortable about the silence. Usually before sending Beth to get ready for bed, Kathie suggested they play a game. That’s what they used to do when Jess was there.

  ‘Games aren’t for me,’ or words to that effect from Dennis, meant that Kathie and Beth played while he sat by the range reading the paper. Beth didn’t think he was really reading it at all, just staring at it; but she was glad he didn’t want to play. Snap, Ludo, Happy Families, Beat your Neighbour Out of Doors, Draughts, all the time-honoured games took their turn. Kathie wasn’t sure whether it became easier or harder once Beth was in bed and she and Dennis were left alone. They talked about the work they had been doing during the day, one evening they went over the account book and he actually told her he was impressed with the way she was coping. If only they could talk about Jess, about the years they had waited for her and been disappointed, about the joy of her birth – in truth joy that had been overshadowed by fear for Kathie, but that was all in the past and their memories were of joy and relief. But to talk about her would be as dangerous as walking on melting ice. And so they acted as if their world hadn’t fallen apart.

  At the sound of the shrill bell of the telephone attached to the wall just inside the warm room door, Dennis stood up to answer it. Kathie listened to the one-sided conversation.

  ‘Of course I remember you . . . No I don’t know their routine . . .’ Then with a humourless laugh: ‘I’m just a visitor in my own home these days . . . That’s extremely kind of you . . . yes, yes much better for them . . . Last Saturday? I can’t remember . . . ah, yes, that was it . . . Well, it’s different for your son, he’s at the school but why this evacuee child was included I don’t know . . . To be truthful I didn’t notice her absence. Working outside no doubt . . . No, I know where the house is; let me walk down with them. I’d be interested to see the alterations you spoke about . . . About half past ten, then. And thank you. I find it difficult having her here . . . I know and I appreciate what you’re saying. Until tomorrow . . .’

  ‘Who was that?’ Kathie asked as he replaced the receiver. The call had brought them nearer to awakening natural curiosity than anything that had gone before.

  ‘Claudia Marley. I had a long talk with her when I took today’s crops to Jack. He introduced us. I wonder she went out of my mind. What a creature! I dare say we’re not accustomed to London fashion down here in the sticks. But she’s a real cracker. Fancy that husband of hers going off and leaving her. Jack told me about them. Her ex owns the Hall.’

  ‘I know. Ollie talks about her. Anyway, what did she want?’

  ‘She is having the pair of them, Oliver and young Beth, for the day tomorrow. He’ll call here and I’ll walk them down.’

  ‘He must know where the house is. They’re quite capable of going on their own.’

  ‘I said I’d take them; you heard me tell her so. Don’t forget she comes from London with its busy streets.’

  ‘So does Beth, but she’s safe to go anywhere around here on her own.’

  She expected a cutting remark and he looked as though he was ready with one but instead, he once again picked up the newspaper.

  Next morning the threesome set out, the children both slightly ill-at-ease and making sure they were on their best behaviour. Then Kathie concentrated her efforts on cleaning out the hen house. Saturday was always an extra cheery day, with the advent and enthusiasm of the sixth formers, although on that Saturday they were very aware of the tragedy that had struck Westways and kept their voices subdued. Kathie wished they would act normally. What had softly spoken words and fear of laughing to do with Jess? She glanced across at where the work party were intent on proving their manhood to impress Sarah and Sally. She wanted to hear the normal sound of their banter, she wanted to smile as she listened just as she always had. Oh Jess, why can’t they understand you’d hate them to be solemn and buttoned up? Yet was she any different? And was she being loyal to Jess by being afraid to find happiness where she could? Imagine if Jess were here helping with the henhouse. A smile tugged at the corners of Kathie’s mouth even though her eyes smarted with tears she blinked away. She seemed to hear that chuckle that was so much part of the little girl’s character. Leaning on her shovel she closed her eyes.

  ‘The old major was a sort of hermit, the place was a complete tip when the agent took her to see it the first time,’ Den said when he returned, ‘but she showed me the drawings she’d had done of the improvements and, give it a few months, it’s going to be a real corker. Claudia Marley, living in the village in the shadow of the Hall. What a hoot – her words not mine. She’s going to find it hard to make friends in the village; she comes from a different world. I told her you’d always make her welcome here. Well, she must have known you would. I’m told you’ve made this a second home to that queer egg of a kid of hers.’

  ‘Nothing queer about Ollie. Not that it would be surprising if there were, with a father deserting them and a mother who shipped him off to boarding school at just seven.’

  ‘Well, you have your opinion and I have mine. Anyway Claudia’s taking him back to school after tea and says she’ll see your Beth on her way up the lane. I imagine she and the headmaster are quite close.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. I’m just one of the village women.’

  With a sigh he turned and left her. It would have been so easy to quarrel, time and again they came to the edge of it and then either one or the other drew back.

  Neither of them referred to the incident in bed on the night Jess had died, yet it was there in both their minds when, as if it were an ordained part of their routine, each night Dennis moved towards her and she drew him close. Making love? There was little passion or urgency in their nightly ritual even as the time of his going drew closer; the even rhythm of his movements didn’t vary, there was no wild abandonment, no demanding desire with excitement mounting until he attained his climax. She might remember how she’d compared love making with climbing a mountain, striving to reach the summit. Now, though, she was stranded in the foothills, she didn’t even connect with what was happening, it had no more meaning than the hundred and one tasks which helped her through her days and hours. Did he realize how distant from him she was? Or perhaps it was the same for him and he was following the route expected. All the years they had been together and in so few days he would be gone. Six months, a year, eighteen months, when would he be home? Most separations, however long, have a set time giving a framework to build on. Not everyone will come home, suppose one day the dreaded telegram was brought to Westways. Kathie tried to imagine the scene, desperately trying to bring sensation to her numbed mind, but she could feel nothing; her emotions were dormant. So her mind wandered as with steady rhythm he moved on her, whether from duty, convention or desire they neither of them asked. At last she felt his movements quicken, one or two more thrusts and it was over. As he rolled off her she suspected that he was satisfied he’d done his duty.

  ‘I expect you were tired.’ He made excuses for her as he settled for sleep (please God, let me sleep, let me escape the long, empty hours). ‘’Night love,’ he muttered, to be answered by her unfailing ‘’night dear’. After that they would settle for sleep or, at least, pretence of sleep.

  The locals who had been on embarkation leave were to meet at Deremouth station at three thirty on the Tuesday afternoon, but as the bus service seemed to be taking advantage of the excuse of wartime conditions and had become less dependable, those from Sedgewood decided to catch the five past two. If it was late or had been cut then there would still be time if they went on the next. After twenty years of being his own master – albeit hard working and often impecunious – Dennis had never been more aware of his new status.

  ‘I’d better be off,’ he said to Kathie as complete with the kitbag bearing his name and service number he appeared in the doorway of the extension kitchen.

  ‘That bag
looks heavy, I wish we had the petrol to take you to the station.’

  ‘No, the lads are getting on the same bus. The bag will be easy enough on my shoulder. It holds all my worldly goods, right down to knife, fork, spoon, metal plate, darning kit, clean shirt and underwear. You name it, I have it.’ He made a supreme effort to keep his voice cheerful.

  Coming across the room she put her arms around him, willing him to meet her gaze.

  ‘Oh Den, all these days gone. We wasted them, hiding from each other. Now it’s too late.’

  ‘I carried a picture of this place in my mind when I joined up, I wanted – I expected – it to stay the same. But nothing’s the same, nothing ever can be.’

  ‘We’re the same. When you come home I promise you I won’t have let you down. One thing is sure, people are going to want vegetables even more than they used to.’

  ‘There you go! You see, now it’s you who’s hiding from what really matters. If there’s a god, then why did he let it happen? She didn’t deserve it; we didn’t deserve it.’

  She heard the ominous crack in his voice and buried her face against the rough material of his battledress tunic as she said, ‘Somehow we have to remember every precious day and be grateful.’

  ‘Words! Just empty words! How can you lose anyone you love and learn to be grateful for what you’ve had? I can’t do it. I’m too full of resentment that other kids, kids like Beth, still have a life ahead of them and Jess gone.’ She nodded, but still she didn’t look at him. ‘And there’s something else, Kathie. I’m frightened right to the pit of my stomach. Imagine coming face to face with a German, having to shoot before he does – or even worse imagine running a bayonet into him.’

  ‘Can’t imagine it,’ she shivered and felt his hold tighten. ‘Den, we think we know what’s ahead of us, but we none of us do. Whatever is ahead, we have memories to treasure – and when you come home again, we’ve got the rest of our lives.’ This time she raised her head and looked directly at him, her lips opening as his mouth covered hers,

  ‘This is it. Don’t come down the lane, Kathie, I want to leave you right here. We’ll be all right, won’t we, when this lot’s over we’ll make something of what’s left.’

  ‘She’ll always be with us. Please, just open your heart and let her in. A quarter to eight – she always watched the hands of the clock. All of us together, Den.’

  His expression changed, she could feel the tenseness in him as he answered, ‘Why can’t you understand? You like to imagine her; you believe she can see you. It’s rubbish, I tell you! What happens as the years go on, as all the other kids grow up? Do you imagine she’ll still be there for you then? Jess is gone.’ He took hold of her shoulders and for a second she thought he was going to shake her. ‘Jess is dead, and if you try to believe anything different it’s because you haven’t the courage to face the truth.’

  ‘Don’t . . .’

  ‘If I get back from this bloody war, we have to make something of what’s left to us.’

  ‘Don’t Den. You have to go. We can’t say goodbye like this.’ She clamped the corners of her trembling mouth between her teeth. He saw and pulled her into a tight embrace.

  ‘No,’ he whispered, rubbing his chin against her head. He regretted the way he’d spoken. If Kathie found comfort in her damn fool ideas then he must leave her with her illusions. He forced a note of cheerfulness into his tone; these were their final seconds. ‘Once the lads and I get out there, we’ll sort Adolf out. I’ll be home before you’ve had time to miss me.’ Then, unable to stop himself: ‘And you’ve got Beth for company.’ A last crushing hug and he shouldered his kit bag.

  ‘All you need for an army life.’ She tried to put a smile in her voice. ‘Don’t try and be a hero, Den, just concentrate on coming home safely.’

  A few seconds later she was watching him striding away down the lane, one arm swinging as he walked and the other balancing his kit bag on his shoulder. Her mind jumped back six months: summertime, Den and the lads working outside, she putting up her bottles of peas and beans, making jam, believing life would go on without change. It would have been easy to let herself sink into self-pity as she remembered those days when there had been three of them. But work had ever been her salvation, so taking her laundry basket she went out to the paved patch between the cottage and the shed and started to unpeg the washing from the line. The sight of Beth’s small garments helped restore her optimism. Wars don’t last forever. Den would come home. Then there would be another heart-wrenching parting for, with the end of the war, Beth would have to return to her mother.

  He’d been gone no more than two hours when the new regime started to take shape, for it had to be a new one, it could never be the same as it had before his leave. Kathie was determined to use the rest of the daylight working outside and determined too that when Beth arrived back from school she would be included and made to feel part of the team.

  ‘Poor little sausage. And she’s not the sort to be able to talk about it if she’s down in the dumps; she’s the sort to bottle things up.’ Young and inexperienced though she was, Sarah showed surprising perception. ‘We mustn’t let her think we want to find her jobs because we’re sorry for her, though. She’d be embarrassed, don’t you reckon?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure she would,’ Kathie agreed. ‘Den gave the far end a second digging, so can you two prepare the new rhubarb bed for the normal outdoor crop. Den has put a stake into the ground where each crown is to be planted. With our mild winters, we ought to be able to get them in at the beginning of February. That’ll give us a head start. What you need to do today is take out a stake – take a patch each – then dig really deep. About twice as deep as we do for most things. Then into each hole, shovel a bucket of manure from the load in the corner down there. That has to be dug in, really amalgamated with the soil at the bottom of the hole. Then a second bucketful has to be spread on top before you fill the hole in with the topsoil. Get that done and we shall be ready to plant the crowns at the end of the month. OK?’

  ‘But what about Beth? She’s not big enough to dig. Can she help you?’

  ‘No,’ Kathie answered, ‘I shall be using the digger, giving the soil its second turning. Anyway, I think it’s important she does something on her own. Den collected the seed potatoes for the first earlies. He opened the bags and left them in the greenhouse. I’ll show Beth how to lay them out with the shoots uppermost and she can make it her job.’

  This was Afternoon No 1. Tonight there would be no phone call from Dennis and, although she wasn’t prepared to admit it even to herself, now that he’d been home and seen for himself that she could manage, she didn’t want to make her report on the events of the day.

  ‘Look Mrs H,’ Sally cut into her thoughts, ‘look who’s coming. It’s Mrs Meredith and her nurse. They didn’t come while Mr H was home.’

  ‘Nanny Giles could have brought her just the same, I told her so when I called in last week. But she refused; she said it would be an intrusion. Funny old stick; Den would have made them very welcome.’

  ‘She can bring her down to watch us digging, it’ll be quieter than where you’ll be working with that machine.’

  Not for the first time Kathie felt her spirit lift when she talked to the girls. She waved at Elspeth and was answered with that blank, open-mouthed smile.

  ‘You sure we shan’t be in anyone’s way? Oh but you should have seen her face when we turned into the lane. Beamed, she did, and I could hardly keep up with her, so keen she was to get here. And they say she doesn’t understand and know things. We’ll just take a wee walk around. Come on, Elspeth my pet, let’s just you and me have a look around.’

  But they hadn’t got far when Beth appeared and, snatching her hand away from her nurse, Elspeth held it out towards Beth. So no mention was made of the seed potatoes.

  ‘Here then, ducky,’ Nanny Giles relinquished her post, ‘how about if you walk with Mrs Meredith.’

  Beth’s thin face didn’t atte
mpt to hide its pride. The pretty lady had actually chosen her. Taking Elspeth’s hand she said, ‘Let’s go for our walk this way, I can hear Sally and Sarah somewhere. We’ll find them. OK?’

  Elspeth might not have understood the meaning of her words, but she knew the little girl was pleased to be with her. Always content in her comfortable and well cared-for life, she knew that walking with Beth was something special. In the confusion of her mind was an image of another child, Jess. She looked back over her shoulder. No, she wasn’t here today. She might not have been able to untangle her thoughts enough to realize that she had been uneasy with Jess; she hadn’t been comfortable with her forceful personality. This one was pleased to take her for a walk. She made a strange noise in her throat, half sigh and half grunt; if a human being knew how to purr that’s how Elspeth Meredith would have expressed her pleasure.

  Sarah and Sally went home much earlier in the winter than they would when the days grew longer. So it was that at about half past four they put away their shovels, washed the bucket they had used for the manure and were ready to go home. Nanny Giles had already taken Elspeth, she could never be sure how long the walk home would take them and she liked to be indoors before the light went so that she could see to the blackout curtains.

  ‘You’ve got a visitor, Mrs H. I don’t know who it is: a lady on a bicycle.’

  ‘I know who it is, Aunt Kathie. It’s Ollie’s mum.’

  Immediately Kathie was on the defensive. She looked at her work hardened hands, she glanced in the mirror over the mantelpiece in the warm room and what she saw did nothing for her confidence. Den seldom noticed a woman’s appearance, but Claudia Marley had certainly made her mark. At a glance Kathie took in her visitor’s lovely face, glamorous figure and expensive attire and wasn’t surprised at the impression she had made on Den. Clearly she was everything that Kathie wasn’t. On top of those thoughts came his open invitation for the newcomer to visit Westways where Kathie would be ready to be her friend, and it didn’t make for a promising start to their association.