September morphed into October and then November, and the war finally came to an end.
She and Jocasta had celebrated the occasion by attending a street party in the village and a special service in the local church. It was wonderful to hear church bells ringing once again and there was a palpable sense of relief that no more young men would be killed.
Phoebe sat in her room on Armistice Day before Jocasta woke and stared out of her window at the peaceful garden. She knew she should be happy but she could only think of the tombstone that Archie didn’t have. She needed somewhere to go and direct her grief – an engraved headstone, maybe, under a shady oak tree where she could go to be alone with her thoughts and perhaps tell him about her day and how she was still missing him so desperately.
Today was filled with so much joy and intense relief but also – for those, like her, who had lost family members or the man they’d imagined building a life with – heartbreak and deep, deep sorrow.
Was this why she felt more bereft than she had been for the past few months? Was it because she was losing her last vestiges of hope that Archie could still be alive? She sighed heavily and lay back against the wall, too exhausted in her misery to cry.
Phoebe heard the familiar sound of movement on the floorboards coming from Jocasta’s room and knew that her friend was up. She forced a smile on her face and opened her bedroom door at the same time as Jocasta opened hers.
‘Good morning,’ Jocasta said, smiling. ‘Did you manage to sleep at all last night?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ It wasn’t true, but she couldn’t bear to cause her friend any more worry that she already had. ‘And how is this little one this morning?’ She gave Bryony a genuine smile when the little girl wriggled in her mother’s arms and held hers outstretched for Phoebe to hold up.
‘Go on with Auntie Phoebe then,’ Jocasta said, pretending to be put out as she handed the toddler to Phoebe.
Phoebe kissed the little girl’s pudgy hand and, holding her tightly, followed Jocasta downstairs. When they reached the kitchen, Phoebe lifted Bryony into her wooden highchair and strapped her in. ‘Shall I make the tea?’
‘Yes, please,’ Jocasta said. ‘What would you like for breakfast this morning?’
Phoebe wanted to say ‘Nothing’ but knew that wasn’t an option and would only put Jocasta’s senses on high alert. ‘I’m not sure. What are you thinking of having?’
They both knew that the only choice was porridge or an egg from one of the neighbour’s chickens.
‘I thought a fried egg on toast for me this morning,’ Jocasta replied, lifting the frying pan down from its large hook over the range. ‘How about you?’
‘I’ll have the same, thanks.’
‘You’re seeming brighter recently,’ Jocasta said a few minutes later as she handed Phoebe her plate of food. ‘I’m relieved.’
Phoebe pushed away the guilt that immediately rose within her. It was far easier to pretend to be happier so that Jocasta left her alone and didn’t ask probing questions.
‘Have you got anything planned for today?’ Phoebe asked, before forcing herself to eat her last mouthful.
Jocasta wiped Bryony’s mouth with a cloth and cut a piece of her toast as she gave the question some thought. ‘I do have to go into the village for a few bits,’ she said before frowning. ‘Would you like to come with me?’
‘Thank you, but not this morning. Another time, maybe.’
The mention of going at some other time seemed to please Jocasta. ‘Then if you’re happy to be left here on your own, I’ll take Bryony to visit Mrs Lanyon in the toyshop. I thought I could buy her a little gift to celebrate our freedom. Then I’ll do some food shopping. Is there anything you’d like me to pick up for you?’
Phoebe shook her head. ‘No thank you. I can’t think of anything I need.’
* * *
Phoebe waved to Jocasta as she pushed Bryony in her pram down the garden path. Finally she was alone. She closed the door and leaned against it for a few seconds. Then, compelled to go for a walk, she put on her coat, not bothering with her hat or handbag. She only wanted to walk up to the headland and doubted she would see anyone else there at this time of day.
She stepped outside and took in a deep breath of the fresh sea air before leaving the garden and crossing the road. Thoughts of walking hand in hand with Archie along the same route made her sad. She missed him terribly. His arms around her, his perfect smile and the way he kissed her.
Phoebe stared out across the sea. It looked so tempting. All it would take was one step over the edge and she wouldn’t be tormented any longer, wouldn’t need to force herself to smile, when all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball on her bed and sob. No more worrying about upsetting others by being honest about her true feelings.
Unable to cope with her guilt, she began walking forward, a stronger sense that she was doing the right thing with each step. She had nothing to live for, not really. She knew in her heart that Archie was dead. They all did. It was simply that no one wanted to admit it, least of all her.
‘Phoebe! Phoebe, stop!’
She realised Jocasta was calling her. Phoebe didn’t turn. She hated to hurt her friend in this way, but at least Jocasta still had Bryony to love and care for. What did she have apart from regret and guilt?
‘Phoebe!’ Jocasta’s scream shocked her with its primal tone. Phoebe turned to see her friend running towards her, Bryony in her arms. ‘Phoebe, stop. Please.’
Phoebe stilled.
‘I only met Archie that one time he came to stay in the village, but I do know that he would never wish for you to throw away your life over his loss.’ She stood well back from the edge of the cliff and reached out her hand for Phoebe to take. ‘Please, take my hand. You’re standing too close to the edge and we’ve had landslides here recently. I’d hate for you to fall.’
Phoebe hesitated. Was Jocasta right? Would Archie be angry with her for jumping? She pictured his handsome face, almost black hair and kind eyes, and knew her friend was right. Phoebe turned and went to reach out to Jocasta. As their fingers touched, the ground beneath her feet slid downwards.
Jocasta screamed and stepped forward, holding Phoebe’s fingers with the tips of her own. Phoebe knew instantly that she didn’t want to die and she needed to move if she was to have any chance of not falling. She grabbed Jocasta’s wrist with her other hand and fell forward, her chest and shoulders on the grassy verge that still remained stable.
Jocasta cried out and fell backwards, digging her heels into the earth, one hand still wrapped tightly around Bryony’s body. The little girl was howling in fear. Horrified to think she had caused her friend and her daughter such stress, Phoebe concentrated on clawing her way forward, Jocasta clinging onto her.
For what seemed like hours but was probably merely seconds, Phoebe crawled forward enough for her toes to connect with the grassy soil. The women knelt and then scrambled to their feet, hurrying away from the cliff edge.
‘You silly, stupid girl,’ Jocasta snapped. ‘If I hadn’t come when I did, you would have been killed.’
Phoebe couldn’t speak. Jocasta was right. She had been seconds away from perishing and almost put her best friend and her darling baby in danger of following her. She burst into tears and slumped on the grass as her legs gave way. ‘I’m so, so sorry, Jocasta,’ she sobbed, beginning to tremble and then shake violently.
Phoebe was vaguely aware of Jocasta sitting next to her, trying to comfort the toddler while allowing Phoebe to sob out her grief. Her guilt at putting her friend in such danger terrified her. ‘I … I’m so sorry,’ she said again through gulping sobs. ‘I can’t believe I was so selfish. I could have killed you,’ she said as her crying increased once again. ‘Both of you.’
Jocasta rested a hand on Phoebe’s back and stroked her gently. ‘Hush now. I followed you up here, remember?’
‘How did you know where I’d be?’ She blew her nose and wiped her damp eyes with the backs of her fingers.
Jocasta pressed her lips together and then shrugged. ‘Because I came here not long after Ronnie was killed, with every intention of doing exactly what you came here to do.’
Phoebe gasped. ‘You did?’ Without thinking, she immediately glanced at Bryony.
‘Yes.’
‘What stopped you?’
‘Geoffrey. He was out walking. I hadn’t realised. I thought he was still in bed asleep, but luckily for me, he saw me from a distance and ran up to me, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me away from the edge. He was furious with me,’ she said, staring out across the sea, clearly remembering the scene well. ‘He took me home, like I’m going to do with you now, poured me a cup of tea and gave me a telling-off that I’ll never forget.’
Phoebe didn’t want to be lectured.
‘Don’t worry, I have no intention of doing the same with you,’ Jocasta said. ‘You had changed your mind when you turned to come away from the edge. I hadn’t got that far yet; I was still determined to end my life.’
Phoebe stared at her friend, a hundred thoughts whirring around her mind. ‘Do you regret what you did?’
Jocasta nodded. ‘Very much so. It was selfish and cowardly of me.’ She tilted her head to the side. ‘You’ll find happiness again, Phoebe, I promise you. Your life will be different to the one you had imagined, but no less worthwhile.’
‘Do you really believe that?’ Phoebe asked, desperate for her friend to say that she did. She couldn’t bear having to carry the weight of Archie’s loss forever.
‘I truly do.’ Jocasta sighed. ‘I’m talking from experience. I’ve not met another man to measure up to my Ronnie, but then I’ve not been looking and I do have my beautiful Bryony. Right now, she is all I need.’
Phoebe reached out and ran her hand lightly over the toddler’s soft curls. ‘I wish I had Archie’s baby.’
‘I know,’ Jocasta said quietly.
Phoebe blew her nose again, determined to try and overcome her emotions, at least for a short while. ‘Shall we go back to the house now and make that tea?’ What other choice was there, Phoebe mused, shaken by what had happened.
‘Good idea,’ said Jocasta.