by Judy Leigh
‘Thanks, Lil.
Lil sighed. ‘Those boys tease you too much, Pat – last night, I thought they’d scared you half to death.’
Pat’s face was pink. ‘Ah, don’t worry. That’s normal behaviour for those two. I’m used to it.’ He winked.
An hour later, Lil took her seat on the bus next to Maggie. Cassie was placing cushions around them, popping a rug over Lil’s knee. Lil patted her hand and Cassie met her eyes.
‘Are you comfortable?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m just perfect here. Of course, I had a great night’s sleep after all that sea air.’ Lil narrowed her eyes craftily. ‘Did you sleep well, Cass?’
‘Like a baby.’
Lil recalled the image of Ken by Cassie’s door holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She pressed her lips together; a man didn’t take champagne to a woman’s room at night unless he was planning to stay until the morning. Lil offered her best attempt at a nervous smile.
‘I’m not sure I could have slept in a room by myself, not in that haunted hotel.’
Cassie shrugged. ‘It didn’t bother me.’ She tucked the blanket around Lil’s legs. ‘Anyway, I don’t mind if I have a single room or not. We’ll change each day according to what sort of accommodation the hotel has. Single, double, triple, I don’t mind. Who knows who I’ll be sleeping with tonight?’
She headed away towards her own seat further back. She heard Ken’s rounded tones pipe up. ‘Cassie. How are the poems going? Why don’t you sit here with me and we can talk about literature?’
Cassie frowned. ‘I promised Emily I’d help her to translate an article about Omaha Beach she’s found in a magazine. We’ll catch up for that chat later.’
‘I’ll look forward to it,’ Ken replied smoothly. Lil shook her head.
‘Do you have any more of those chocolate triangles?’ Maggie squeezed her hand. ‘I’m getting quite a taste for them.’
Lil nodded, pulled from her thoughts, and rummaged in her bag. ‘How are you feeling, Maggie?’
Maggie pushed sunglasses down on her nose and struck a pose. ‘I’m determined to rock the film-star look. I’m on holiday and free and happy. What do you think? Am I a dead ringer for Audrey Hepburn?’
‘More Liz Taylor, definitely,’ Lil said brightly.
Maggie pouted. ‘She became plump as she got older too.’
‘We’d better limit these chocolates to five a day, then. Just to keep our movie-star figures intact.’
Lil pulled out two green-foil-wrapped chocolates and offered one to Maggie. As she glanced at the seat beyond her, across the aisle, Albert was smiling and holding out a hand. Lil dropped a chocolate into his palm and winked. Albert winked back. Tommy had started to speak to the group, his head twisted round from the driver’s seat.
‘Right, everyone – we’re off on the eastern road to the cemeteries at Thiepval. We’ll spend most of the morning there, then we’ll have early lunch in a restaurant where they do a particularly good Norman cider. After some refreshment, we’re going to drive across the French border and into Belgium, to our next hotel in Bruges. I’m hoping we’ll get a bit of sightseeing done there before our evening meal. Any questions?’
‘Are we going to grab a burger for lunch, Tommy? I’m already starving.’ Pat’s voice came from the back.
Duncan rubbed his head and piped up. ‘The area is particularly famous for cider. There will be all sorts of dishes with cider in, like pork, and there are puddings full of Calvados, the apple brandy.’
‘I intend to take a bottle of Calvados home. It’s very pleasant,’ Ken added.
‘I’m hoping to taste some cider and take some back with us,’ Duncan agreed. Lil thought his expression was a little guilty; she wondered how much he was planning to sample.
‘A nice lunch will be particularly welcome after an hour at the cemetery. Although it’s a sunny day, there’s definitely a chill in the air. What do you think, Syoo?’
‘I have a warm coat, Denise. I don’t intend to catch a cold, my dear. And some solid shoes – there will be some walking to be done.’
Lil heard Denise sniff. ‘I’m sure these heels will be fine. The ground isn’t damp.’
Maggie’s eyebrows shot up, two high arches in her forehead. ‘Oh, not too much walking, I hope? I might just stay in the minibus and rest if there is.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Cassie’s voice came from behind them, soothing and soft. ‘I’ll walk with you and Lil– we only need to go as far as the memorial. You will be able to see everything from there and it’s not too far.’
‘That’s good,’ Maggie purred, glancing in Lil’s direction hopefully. ‘I don’t suppose there are any more of those green sweets? I think I can risk one more.’
The cemetery at Thiepval was accessed through a huge archway containing a book of memories, which visitors were asked to sign. Cassie paused to read some of the comments. Lil shivered and hooked an arm through Maggie’s, snuggling up to the borrowed faux-fur coat.
Maggie sighed. ‘I don’t really understand the attraction of these graveyards. They depress me.’ She and Lil watched the group ahead of them. Tommy, Duncan and Albert were walking slowly towards the mound of grass in front; DJ, Emily, Jake and Pat had reached the clump of trees to the right and Sue, Ken and Denise were reading a sign in French just beyond the entrance. Denise was lifting a foot and inspecting her shoe unhappily.
‘It’s about remembering the awful sacrifice of young lives, Maggie.’ Lil sniffed, wiping her nose. ‘My uncle was in the First World War. He was shot; he didn’t die at the time, but the bullet stayed in his body and it killed him eventually.’
‘One of Brian’s relatives was killed in Passchendaele.’ Maggie nodded, then her face fell as she remembered. ‘I wonder how Brian is.’
‘You haven’t phoned him?’
‘No. He can contact me. I’m being strong, just like you said.’
‘Well done.’ Lil chewed her lip. ‘What if he’s gone to the police and reported you missing?’
‘He won’t.’ Maggie seemed sad. ‘I left a note by the side of the bed to say I’d gone on holiday for a few days and, if he doesn’t find it, Jenny Price knows where I am. But I don’t suppose Brian will bother to text.’
‘That’s awful,’ Cassie spluttered.
‘I know, shocking.’ Maggie put her hands on her hips.
‘No, he’ll be missing you something rotten, Maggie.’ Lil shook her head. ‘That’s the whole point. He loves you but he needs to remember that he does…’
‘No, this is awful – someone has written something in this book – some Colonel Firth has written “Tally-Ho, chaps!” as a comment. Belittling such a huge sacrifice of young lives, likening the war to a stupid chase…’
Lil lowered her voice. ‘She’s very opinionated, my Cassie – and very compassionate. I brought her up that way.’
‘She is.’ Maggie nodded. ‘I hope you’re right, Lil. I hope Brian is missing me…’
‘Of course he is.’ Lil threaded an arm through the crook of her friend’s elbow. ‘He knows he has a gem in you. He just needs reminding.’
Cassie linked an arm through Lil’s spare one and the three of them moved forward. Emily, DJ, Jake and Pat were already disappearing into the woodlands.
‘Do you think Emily is the girlfriend of one of those nice boys?’ Maggie mused. ‘She’s so pretty – she could have her choice of them.’
‘I like them all,’ Lil agreed. ‘Pat’s my favourite though – I have a soft spot for him. He’s so good-natured.’
‘Emily’s boyfriend is a marine. He’s on active duty at the moment,’ Cassie explained. ‘It’s nice she’s here with her friends. She keeps the boys in line. They all get on well because they play football together.’
Lil seized her opportunity. ‘What about Ken? And Sue and Denise? They are all single.’
‘A ménage à trois?’ Cassie raised her eyebrows. ‘Imagine that…’
Lil studied her expression for a
sign of jealousy and found none, so she said, ‘Do you think he’s that sort, Ken?’
‘He’s lonely, I think.’ Cassie shrugged. ‘But then, most people are lonely at some time in their lives.’
They walked on in silence. Lil wondered if Maggie was thinking about Brian and if Cassie was thinking about Ken. She was aware of the strange silence that had settled on the cemetery. There were many visitors already, several who had walked up to the tall white monument, and yet the vast open area had an eerie stillness, as if the entire cemetery had taken a breath and was holding it, waiting to exhale again.
They stopped suddenly at a grave for no particular reason, and Lil read the name on the headstone. ‘William Stanley Barlow, twenty years.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s so young.’
‘One here, too. Wilfred Lynch. Seventeen.’ Maggie hooked an arm through Lil’s. They edged forward.
‘Ooh, look,’ Maggie whispered. ‘There are three names here – three young boys, eighteen and seventeen – Richard Smollett, Thomas Kingsley and John Warren. How come all three are buried together? They aren’t brothers.’
‘Perhaps they were friends and died together?’ Lil glanced at Cassie for an answer.
Cassie sighed softly. ‘Perhaps no one could tell which one was which.’
Lil met her daughter’s calm eyes and caught her breath. ‘War is such a terrible thing. Your father…’ She turned away, suddenly cold inside her coat. Lil felt Cassie drape an arm around her.
‘He was a soldier, Frankie Chapman. I know. But you two met after the war had finished – in the nineteen fifties. There were still some soldiers around, where you lived…’ Cassie pulled her mother closer, a tiny frame beneath her grasp.
Maggie muttered, ‘I had an aunt who had an American boyfriend during the war. He was so generous – he used to give her stockings and chocolate.’
Lil nodded. ‘Frankie was like that – generous.’
Cassie waved an arm. ‘The monument is over there. Do you want to have a look at it?’
‘Will it all be in French?’ Maggie asked.
Cassie gave an imperceptible shake of her head. ‘No. We can walk over there easily, if you like.’
‘The others are already there.’ Maggie squinted into the distance. ‘All right.’
Lil pointed to a row of graves a few yards away. She was intrigued; there were no headstones, just wooden crosses. ‘What are those graves, Cassie?’
‘Inconnus. Unknown soldiers – ones they couldn’t identify, I suppose…’
‘I’m going to walk down there,’ Lil muttered. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Okay,’ Cassie agreed. ‘Maggie and I will catch you up.’
Lil hugged her coat close to her and tugged her handbag over her shoulder. She put her head down against the wind and pushed forward, gazing to the right, towards the clump of woodland. The treetops were bent over, pushed by the strength of the gusts, but there was no noise. Lil imagined the sounds of battle in the woods; exploding bombs in craters, dirt flying up in a black spray; the yells of soldiers, the crack of gunfire. The noise seemed to boom inside her head as she forced her way towards the row upon row of simple wooden crosses. She stood still, gazing at the graves as far as her eye could see, lines upon lines of them, reaching far back into the distance. On each one, the word inconnu was engraved into the wood. Lil sighed, wondering; each of these young men would have had his own story.
Slowly, she eased herself down into a crouch and stared at one humble cross, noticing the one behind it and the next one, rank upon rank. She whispered softly, ‘I wonder what happened to you, young man. And all your friends. I hope you can rest in peace now.’
A single tear was cold against her cheek. Lil wiped it away with a stiff finger. She heard a footfall behind her and knew that Cassie and Maggie had caught up with her.
‘I’ll just be a minute, love,’ Lil said in a soft voice.
A hand rested on her shoulder, a brief comfort, and she was glad that Cassie understood her need to take a moment. Lil closed her eyes, offered up a silent prayer for the young men, and she felt Cassie’s hand lift away. She rested her lids a moment, then opened her eyes and stared up into a vast blue sky, flecked with clouds.
‘Right, I’m ready. Shall we go back to the bus now, Cassie?’
Lil eased herself upright on tired legs and turned round with a smile of recognition already on her face. The wind blew her hair and she shivered. There was no one there. She stared towards the monument and saw Cassie and Maggie in the distance making their way towards her.
11
The food had arrived at the table of the Basse Cour, a little restaurant ten miles north of Thiepval, and everyone was tucking heartily into the main course apart from Albert, who was very quiet, and Lil, who was deep in thought. All the other holidaymakers were chattering excitedly.
‘I’ve ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes. The heels are caked in mud.’ Denise glanced at the young waiter who had just placed a pichet of cider on the table in front of her. ‘Could I have wine, please? I’m not fond of cider.’ She tried again. ‘Vin, s’il vous plait. Red, please, waiter – only one glass – I’m hopeless if I drink too much at lunchtime.’
‘Oh, me too,’ Sue agreed loudly. ‘It just makes me want to sleep. But I’m going to try the cider. It’s what all the locals drink, my dear. And besides, Cassie has a pint of it and if she thinks it’s good, then so do I.’
‘I agree,’ Ken murmured.
‘It’s just me drinking wine, then,’ Denise grumbled. ‘I can’t believe that place was so muddy. Those shoes cost me a lot of money. I hope the grime will come off and I can find a good cobbler to mend the heel.’ Denise gazed around for sympathy but no one seemed to notice her anxiety.
‘You could buy a pair of clogs in Amsterdam, Denise.’ Pat became dreamy. ‘I fancy a pair myself. Perhaps a beautiful Dutch girl with yellow plaits and one of those white hats with the turned-up corners might fit me up with a pair.’
Albert supped noisily from of a huge glass of cider. Duncan was thoughtful, speaking to himself. ‘This cider is incredible. I wonder how well it will travel in the minivan. I’m going to order a few bottles to take back.’
Tommy shook his head. ‘You won’t get a lot of it in the minibus. They could send some barrels over later.’
‘It’s best in bottles, Tom.’ Duncan finished his pint. ‘It’s a shame you aren’t able to sample it. It’s good stuff.’ He was tucking into the main course.
‘I’ll buy some to take with me for later to quaff in my room before I go to sleep.’ Tommy sipped his orange juice. ‘Just looking at you lot is making me feel thirsty.’
Albert wiped moist lips, made a soft noise of pleasure and smiled.
DJ patted his arm. ‘Do you like the cider, Albert? It’s tasty stuff, isn’t it?’
Albert nodded. Maggie raised her voice. ‘I might have one of those. Is it good?’
Albert moved his head slightly without taking his mouth away from the glass and murmured, ‘Mmm.’
Lil turned to Cassie, who was sitting next to her. ‘I can’t stop thinking about what happened at the cemetery, Cassie. I haven’t told anyone else. They’ll think I’ve gone mad. But I was sure that was you and Maggie standing behind me, your hand on my shoulder.’ She shuddered with the memory. ‘Am I losing the plot?’
‘No, not at all.’ Cassie draped an arm around her mother’s shoulders. ‘It’s a common experience in these places. Lots of people report, you know, the sense of another person, a presence. I might even write it into a poem.’
‘Oh, I don’t know what to think.’ Lil still felt cold inside her warm clothes. ‘What if it’s a prediction? You know, there I am in the graveyard and the Grim Reaper is waiting for me. Maybe it was a warning.’
‘No, don’t think that.’ Cassie hugged Lil again. ‘Those places are very atmospheric. I know just how you felt myself. There’s nothing to worry about – you just got caught up in the emotion of it all. Ghosts don’t exis
t, Lil…’
But Lil wasn’t sure Cassie understood at all. Lil put her hands to her head, her thoughts bulging inside her mind, and closed her eyes. She was eighty-two years old. She was in good health apart from a few aches and pains in her joints and occasional palpitations, but she couldn’t last forever. She had pushed thoughts of impending death away so far but the spectre always returned, sometimes at night when she lay awake and alone in her room, sometimes when one of the Clover Hill residents passed away, sometimes when she looked at old photos and realised that she had been alive for a long time. She sighed.
When she opened her eyes, Lil noticed Albert across the table, his eyes fixed on her. She wondered if he wanted another wrapped chocolate. His lips moved slowly and then he pushed his drink across the table, a glass of cider, half empty. She noticed his expression, warm and worn and full of geniality, as he held out the glass and put it down within her reach. He nodded to her and she picked it up and took a sip. It was tangy, a little fizzy on her tongue, and then she tasted the sweetness of apples. She stared into Albert’s eyes. He closed his lids for a moment and then met her gaze, his eyes soft, the colour of the sky. She knew he’d understood that she needed a friend. She sipped again and smiled.
‘This is lovely, Albert. I’m going to order one.’
The waiter was at her shoulder. Maggie piped up, ‘Oh, yes, and one for me too, please.’
Several other voices joined in the request for more cider: DJ, Jake, Emily, Pat, then Ken, Sue and Duncan.
Denise shrugged unhappily. ‘I may as well have one, then.’
Tommy gazed at Cassie and made a sad-dog expression. ‘If you’re ordering for everyone, Cass, can I have another orange juice?’
Cassie winked at him and spoke to the waiter, who nodded happily and rushed off to fetch more drinks.
An hour later, after a hearty meal and several bottles of cider, everyone trooped to the minibus, Tommy leading the way, disgust on his too-sober face and Duncan bringing up the rear, calling out loudly in English to two French waiters who were struggling with thirty-six bottles of cider in three cardboard boxes. Everyone watched as the bottles were placed carefully in the back of the minibus behind the luggage, a soft-cloth suitcase placed on top to stabilise them. Duncan slipped several euros into the top pockets of the waiters with an enthusiastic smile. ‘Merci, my boys.’
