8. The Soldier Boy

According to Nell, Sunday was a day of rest, especially if you’d just had your corns done. She was sitting on the back veranda with Layla and Griffin looking down past the dam where Ben and Annie were picking the last of the season’s grapes. The sun was low, the water gleamed, and leafless vines scribbled secret words along the wires. The kitchen was full of Rainbow Girls and tantalising aromas. Layla had persuaded Nell to take her feet out of her lambswool slippers and to prop them on a squat, velvet-covered stool so that she could inspect them at close quarters. There were patches of sticking plaster on the toes where the hard lumps had once been. Layla noticed that not only the corns were gone, but also most of the nail polish that she had painted on. Only the hearts were still there.

‘I might do Miss Amelie’s toenails before she comes to Seniors’ Day.’ Layla’s thoughts became words before she could stop them.

‘So you’ve already invited her?’ asked Nell, and Layla bit her lip and nodded.

‘There’s only two sleeps to go now,’ she explained and then said reassuringly, ‘and she didn’t seem a bit muddled.’

‘And she’s agreed to go with you?’ Layla nodded again and Nell said, ‘Marvellous!’ Then after a pause she added, ‘But I think we’ll call in tomorrow, just to remind her.’

‘But what about your feet, Nell?’

‘I’m sure they’ll be much better by then,’ said Nell, ‘and if not, I’ll just have to wear my slippers.’

Layla was pleased. Nell was a person you could rely on to sort everything out, but she began to wonder if she should mention Miss Amelie’s beau and the photograph. Then the Rainbow Girls arrived with a very late afternoon tea.

‘Corns or no corns, there’s always something to be thankful for!’ said Nell as Amber carefully balanced a tea tray on her lap. That put an end to Layla’s wondering and the feeling that something was not quite right, at least for the time being. She leaned her back against the veranda post. Nell was right. There was a baby’s bath full of sweet black grapes, a fat orange sun floating in the dam, a magpie choir, the smell of woodsmoke, upside-down apple cake and tea.

When it was time for Layla to go home, Nell put her feet back in her slippers and stood up.

‘It’s okay, Nell. I’ll walk Layla down to Canning’s dam,’ said Griffin.

But Nell had a knack for knowing when a girl wanted to get something off her chest. She said, ‘I need to get in some practice before tomorrow, but I’ll only come down as far as the gate.’ This was the opportunity that Layla had been waiting for; the chance to bring up the matter of John William. It was lucky that Nell had just had her corns done because she walked much more slowly and it took longer to get to the end of the drive.

‘Nell,’ said Layla as they passed the hen house, ‘does Miss Amelie have many visitors?’

‘No, I don’t think so. There’s a nurse who comes sometimes …’

‘No, I mean real visitors, like you and Griff and me.’

‘I think we’re her only regular visitors, why?’

‘It’s just … she showed Griffin and me a picture of someone and she said he was coming to her house. She said she promised him she’d wait.’

‘Did she tell you who he was?’

‘She called him John William and she said that he’s her sweetheart.’

Already they had reached the gate. Nell sighed and leaned her elbows on the strainer post and her chin in her hands as though the walk had been too much for her. But when she began to speak, Layla knew that it was her heart that ached, not her feet.

‘John was Miss Amelie’s sweetheart,’ she said. ‘He was a soldier. He went away to war, a long, long time ago and he didn’t come home.’

‘Is he dead?’ Griffin asked. But Layla didn’t need to hear what Nell said to know the answer. That was why she’d had the feeling that something wasn’t right. Nell took her elbows off the post then and sat down amongst the tussocky blue grass beside the twin gravel tracks. Layla and Griffin sat down beside her and Blue put his head on her lap.

‘Most old people forget some things,’ said Nell, stroking Blue’s ragged ears. ‘It’s just part of growing old. But Miss Amelie’s forgetfulness is an illness and so far no one’s been able to find a cure for it.’

‘So she won’t get better?’ asked Layla.

‘No, I’m afraid not. And it’s possible she might get worse. If she does, she might have to go and live in some place where she can be looked after all the time.’

‘But Miss Amelie can tell you everything about griffins and gargoyles in architecture,’ said Layla, ‘and she remembers John William’s name and how he used to call her his Queen of Hearts and heaps of other things about him, so how come she doesn’t remember that he’s … dead?’

‘I really don’t know,’ said Nell.

‘Was it only when she got old that she forgot John William was dead?’ asked Griffin.

‘I suppose so,’ said Nell. ‘I’m just like you, I don’t understand it. Nobody really does. But I sometimes wonder if it might be because she’s never said goodbye.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Layla.

‘Some of the soldiers who died were never found. Miss Amelie’s John was one of them,’ said Nell.

‘So she didn’t have a funeral for him?’ asked Layla slowly.

‘Probably not, not like the ones I’ve told you about anyway.’ Layla thought about her nana dying and of not being allowed to go and say goodbye and of having to be brave all the time.

‘And no golden syrup dumplings,’ she said, so quietly that Griffin knew she was only talking to herself. The sky had darkened to the colour of violets and Layla thought of Miss Amelie, waiting, always waiting for her soldier boy. All those years she had waited and all for nothing. Layla suddenly felt very angry. ‘Then we mustn’t tell her,’ she shouted. ‘It’s too late now. We mustn’t ever tell her that John William won’t come home! Not ever!’

Blue saw Layla’s distress. He moved his head, left a warm patch on the old one’s lap for her and watched the comforting begin. He knew the girl was in safe hands. The old one had a kind heart. She had rescued him at birth; unwanted, deaf and the runt of a large litter, and had treated him like one of her own ever since. And his boy was a fine boy, an uncommon sort of boy. He too had loved him from the beginning. It was no surprise to Blue when Griffin put his arms around Layla.

‘She won’t hear it from me,’ whispered Griffin, ‘cross my heart.’

‘Or from me,’ said Nell.

And then the stars came out.

A distant sound broke the silence; a comforting sound, the sound of something that Layla knew. It was the Bedford starting up.

‘Here comes Ben,’ said Nell. ‘He’ll take you home. It’s getting too dark to walk now.’ Nell smoothed Layla’s hair and dried her face on a corner of her apron. ‘I’ll meet you tomorrow after school and we’ll all go to Miss Amelie’s together, to remind her about Senior Citizens’ Day.’