11

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Taking Stock

The Vice-Chancellor is in big trouble at the Uni, Grub,” Lettie came out with all of a sudden, before sitting down next to me at Aunty May’s small kitchen table.

She said Madeline had told her the Vice-Chancellor had been summoned to face the Chancellor and the Board of Management to explain how he could have allowed the Spanish debate to proceed, when every indicator pointed to a complete debacle.

“Madeline reckons they will keep at him until he resigns,” Lettie added nonchalantly.

My mind had only begun to clear three days after the event, allowing me to make some sense out of what had happened on Monday night. I couldn’t believe the contempt the opposing groups held for each other when, in the end, they were only expressing ideas. It was a real eye opener to see how easily people can be drawn into taking sides, and then turn on anyone who doesn’t agree.

“The College grounds and the Uni campus were like ghost towns during the week, Grub,” Lettie added with a smile. “I don’t think anyone’s willing to show their face, in case they get recognised by someone who saw their bad behaviour at the lecture theatre. Everyone in the kitchen reckons that the five blokes who turned on the firehose will get suspended. If they can find ’em!”

“I’m sure everyone in the Uni knows who they are, Lett, except the big wigs. No-one will dob them in.”

Lettie said Madeline had troubles of her own on Tuesday morning, angry that she had to leave the college kitchen for several hours in order to post her husband’s bail at the Russell Street Police station.

“She called him every name under the sun, not all under her breath before she left. She says he’s gone from being an ordinary bastard, to a real bad bastard,” Lettie giggled.

“Leticia, what are they teaching you in that kitchen?” Aunty May huffed, shaking her head. “Can you come and get the kettle please, if it’s not an inconvenience.”

“Heads will roll for sure, Grub. Dunno how many though,” Lettie declared, before getting up.

I didn’t think Easter could come quick enough for the University of Melbourne.

*

Later that night, Lettie and I were enjoying the best cup of tea from Aunty May’s silver teapot while she busied herself damping down the Aga for the night. The reality of our trip home tomorrow was beginning to sink in, when a face appeared in the darkened frame of the screen door, and softly called, “Hello?”

It was William’s voice.

“William, is that you? Don’t be like a stranger, hangin’ out there. Come in,” Lettie insisted jumping up to get the door. “What brings ya ’round these parts?”

“Just popping in for a quick visit, Lettie. How is everyone?” William asked jovially, conspicuously holding a book in his left hand.

It occurred to me that neither William, nor Elaine for that matter, had ever been into Aunty May’s and our home, or had met Aunty May before. This could be interesting.

Aunty May threw off her apron and patted down her hair and dress before William had a chance to look over and notice her.

“Hello, you would be Lettie and Seb’s aunt, if I may be so forward. They have spoken of you often, in glowing terms. Glad to finally meet you,” William said charmingly, laying it on thicker than necessary, but exactly how Aunty May would have liked it.

“I doubt that my young charges would have said that, William. Please call me May. I am so glad that Sebastian and Leticia have been able to make friends with such generous and substantial young people as Elaine and yourself. Much has been recounted about the wonderful evening they spent at Elaine’s parents’ house in Camberwell. I felt a little jealous, not attending myself,” Aunty May gushed, turning a little red in the face.

“The next soirée the Parmenters have, I will personally make sure Elaine places you on top of the list, May. But, I do have a mission this evening. I found a book, as I was shuffling through my wardrobe this afternoon that I thought Lettie may like to read on the train or at Easter. It’s my favourite of Blake Parmenter’s books Men Are Human, Too!”

Aunty May interjected, “I’ve read that book, William. In fact, I have a copy somewhere in my room, such a witty book. He must be a clever man. Would I be correct, William?”

“He’s a very down to earth man, May, great to talk to. Can’t say anything bad about him, of course.”

“Of course you can’t!” laughed Aunty May as if she was Madam Pompadour.

After flattering Aunty May, William turned to me and asked if he could have a word with me outside, before going back to the college.

“Lovely to have met you, May, and I hope you enjoy the book, Lettie, but I must have a word with Seb,” William apologised, holding the fly-screen door open for me.

“Sure will, see ya soon, William,” Lettie smiled and then as she waved. “Please take care.”

William returned a tiny smile back to her.

“Pleasure to meet you, William. I hope you can bring Elaine around one day. I would love to meet her as well,” Aunty May requested, her voice rising as William headed backwards out the door.

“I will make sure of it …” William called back, closing the screen door while I tentatively followed him out to the back of the boarding house.

“Let’s go down the lane a little, Seb,” William said without emotion.

“Sure,” I replied. We moved out of the glare of the only street light in the vicinity, to the shadows under a peppercorn tree, in the laneway at the rear of Aunty May’s.

“I’m going, Seb, I’m going to Spain,” William said, becoming quite jittery. “I have to, but I’m not going to fight. I’m going for another reason. I told you already about the rumours coming out of Spain.”

I hoped for Elaine’s sake that I was never going to hear those words, but in the back of my mind I also knew that it was only a matter of time.

“William, no, ya talkin’ rot. Don’t do it to Elaine,” I pleaded. “With what’s happening with her sister, she will be devastated. Don’t be a bloody fool,” I said, trying my hardest to convince him it was a terrible mistake, but not having any effect on his demeanour.

“Don’t disrespect me by saying that, Seb. I’m trying to save Aggy’s life. When I told you Agatha was amongst four women under suspicion for being a spy, I didn’t tell you the whole truth … She’s the only woman under suspicion. The Provisional Government only gives suspected spies so much time to prove their innocence. Then, they lose patience.”

Why didn’t Agatha just leave with her family?

“Listen, William, think about Elaine, how would she be if you were captured or killed?” I argued, walking back into the streetlight.

“I have no intention of being captured or killed, Sebastian. I’ll be travelling with a high-ranking figure in the Seamen’s Union, a Kiwi called Kernot who worked out of Barcelona for several years in the merchant navy. He has many contacts with local Government officials, and we have documents and letters to clear this up. I am not going into this blindly. To do nothing in this matter would be negligent and make a coward out of me,” William said firmly, as he joined me under the streetlight.

“The suspicion came about when the Provisional Government was informed that the family Agatha was billeted with in Rome during her Red Cross training, had a son in the O.V.R.A, the Italian Secret Police. In all her letters from Rome, Agatha only mentions two daughters, and they and their parents were vehemently opposed to the fascist government, so it cannot be the same family. It’s a horrendous error, Seb. I have to correct it,” William explained, looking exasperated, feigning a kick at the wooden paling fence.

“When are you leaving, William?” I asked, resigned to the fact that nothing was going to change his mind.

“I don’t want to tell you when, or how Seb, because I want you to leave with me,” William declared, standing squarely in front of me. “I need you with me. You’re the only person I can trust to have my back, all the time. You can tell me who to watch out for over there.”

William looked at me with an expectation that I would jump at it.

“No, William, I can’t. I want to help Elaine’s sister, but I can’t. I have to go back home tomorrow to decide what to do about my brother, Robbie. I have to give him priority at the moment. He is stuck in an asylum that only horror stories come out of. Lettie and I have to look after him,” I tried to explain, becoming frustrated that I had been asked to choose between my family and someone else’s.

“You’re not his father, Sebastian …”

“I know, but I am his brother,” I said simply back.

William started to walk off and then turned around.

“You’re a great bloke, Seb. But you will never grow up staying here. You will always do right by others, but not yourself. You can stay and work at Cooks for the rest of your life. Who cares? No-one will ever say that’s when Sebastian made his mark. That was his day. All people will say is, how could he have put up with that stinking place for so long? He was better than that. They won’t praise you for being strong, they will laugh at you for being weak.”

William walked deep into the lane, returning soon after with a large canvas bag.

“People only judge you on what you do when it matters. I know you love Lettie and your family, but they’re not you. Don’t look back twenty or thirty years down the track and then realise that this was your chance, maybe your only chance, to decide where your life takes you. Help me bring Agatha back home to her family. Don’t throw this moment away, Seb.”

William continued to look at me for some time, and then walked to the end of the lane, not turning around as he disappeared out of the streetlight into the night.

I moved into the shadow of the peppercorn tree and leant my head against the wooden paling fence, knowing I would never see William again.

*

“Grub, are you there?” Lettie called out from the back steps of Aunty May’s.

How could I hide the disappointment I was feeling? I had let down a friend who asked me to help save someone’s life. I wanted to tell Lettie what had just happened, but that would only put her in the same dilemma as me; wanting to support friends that had already set themselves on a path, well before Lettie or I arrived on the scene.

“Out here, Lett. Just enjoying the fresh air,” I called back from under the peppercorn.

“You’re a strange one sometimes, Grub, it’s freezing out here. Is William still around?” Lettie asked, as she stepped out into the streetlight with a cardigan over her shoulders, probably wondering why I was still hanging around in the laneway with a cold wind starting to bite.

“He’s gone, Lett,” I replied, fighting a waver in my voice. “Back to the college, I suppose.”

“Inside the book were two notes. One’s nice, the other … I dunno. William left a note saying how much he cherished our friendship, and how he loved to watch Elaine and I get on so well. He is a nice guy, ya know.”

“I do know that, Lett. Who’s the other note from?” I asked. “Ya don’t have to tell me if ya don’t want to.”

“Now, Grub, don’t get angry, but it’s from the man I was dancing with towards the end of the night at the Parmenters. He wants to take me out to a dance, or elsewhere at a time of my choosing. I thought I’d let you know that I might take him up on it, if I get back,” Lettie explained, giving me her best girly look, with her head leant to the side.

“The old bloke, Lett, he could be our dad. You don’t know anything about him.”

“I know he’s just turned thirty, never been married before and he seems really nice. I like him, Grub.”

“That’s up to you, Lett, but I’ll be watching him like a hawk. Ya know that?” I replied, not angry, just glad to have Lettie to talk to at the moment. “Let’s go inside, it’s gettin’ too cold out here.”

I moved out of the shadow of the peppercorn with my head bowed, trying not to show my face. Lettie stayed her ground.

“When’s he leavin’, Grub?”

“Who, Lett?”

“William. Sometimes ya don’t give me much credit. I see more than ya think I do. It’s what his life revolves around. He didn’t come over to give me a book with a couple of notes in it. He came to ask you to go with him, didn’t he?” Then Lettie looked at me closely.

“Are ya goin’? I won’t blame you if ya do.”

I looked at Lettie knowing that I had been treating her like a kid ever since she arrived in the city. I kept forgetting she was eighteen; already a young woman.

“No, Lett, it’s something William has to do. Elaine’s sister is in trouble, perhaps more trouble than any of us know. Lett, please don’t go and tell Elaine that he’s going to leave, it won’t make a stitch of difference to what’s gonna happen.”

Then, I tried to explain to Lettie, the best way I could, that getting Robbie out of that asylum is all we should be concentrating on at the moment.

“Grub, Elaine’s no fool. She knows one day William won’t be in the dining room for breakfast. She told me that when we were on the tram to Camberwell. She’ll be a mess for a time but she is surrounded by people who follow their convictions. I wish William had never come around here. I wish he had just gone…” Lettie said starting to cry.

I took a step towards her, but she walked away from me and then out of the lane. I followed Lettie to make sure she was all right, keeping my distance, not realising how much she cared about William. She stopped after a while, telling me to take it slow on the way back home, neither of us wanting to show Aunty May how upset we were.

*

Reading Mr Parmenter’s book Men Are Human, Too! turned out to be the best medicine Lettie could have taken, as we whiled away the long hours on Good Friday, in our more-than-comfortable carriage on the giant ‘Spirit of Progress’ locomotive. Lettie said the insights shared by Blake Parmenter into the funny way people behave with each other were so revealing and hilarious at the same time.

Our soft seats and the motion of the train, allowed us to drift off into the deep sleep that neither Lettie nor I, had been able to find the previous night, or for many nights before that. After we woke, all we could think about was the drama that would be playing out in the student dormitories of the King’s College at the same moment. The reality would have dawned upon Elaine in the morning that William had gone. He would have left a letter, one that I hoped went some of the way in explaining why he was hurting her so much.

Lettie and I hated the fact that we were even put into this situation, knowing that whatever we did it was never going to be right. In the end, we made the right decision to let Elaine and their friends sort it out on their own. William was set on a course now that would be difficult to change anyway. Most likely, sitting in the damp hold of a steamship heading out to sea, surrounded by like-minded souls; all looking toward an uncertain future.

At least all the thinking about William and Elaine had given us a reprieve from what we might be facing back home. I had to tell myself time and time again not to open up my big mouth and give an opinion unless it was really necessary, when the family gathered to talk about Robbie. I had stuck my foot in it with Lettie last Saturday, only barely managing to make things right, so I really didn’t want to do it again back home.

For some reason, William’s comment about me not being Robbie’s father kept repeating in my mind. He really was a piece of work. It was good enough for him to trek to the other side of the world for his girl’s sister, so why should he make me feel guilty about coming home to look after my brother.

Lettie and my concerns about home were instantly swept away when the ‘Spirit’ slowed in its approach to the Stawell Railway Station. We stepped out onto the smaller-than-I-remembered platform to see Tiny, Mum, Dad and Robbie waving madly at us from under the canopy of the old colonial-style station building.

“Robbie!” Lettie yelled out dropping her full canvas bag on the spot and running flat out towards him. She almost knocked Robbie over as she picked him up in one motion and spun him around and around, oblivious to everyone else.

“How ya doin’, Grubby?” Tiny asked in his remarkable and familiar deep voice as I approached. “We got a bit o’ good news for you and Lett.” He grinned as he nearly crushed my hand in his massive paw.

“I can see that, Tiny. We didn’t know what to expect after your letter,” I replied, relieved to see Robbie surrounded by family.

Tiny picked up Lettie’s canvas bag as if it was a feather and then we headed over to Mum and Dad, who were also being squeezed to death by Lettie. She was letting out every ounce of emotion that had built up inside her since she arrived in the city nearly four weeks ago.

I grabbed Robbie myself and gave him a big hug and roughed up his hair, before asking if he had been looked after in the asylum. He said he was happy in there, because he could study all day, but now, all he wanted to do was go home to study, which I said sounded like a damn good idea to me.

I gave Mum a hug and then shook Dad’s hand. They said they were doing well, and had news for Lettie and me, but didn’t describe it like Tiny did, more like they were holding something back in reserve.

We all piled into Tiny’s old Chevrolet Superior that had been converted into something resembling a rough take on a farm carry-all. The makeshift seats were hard on the bum and a terrible smell was seeping out of the boot, but there was nothing better than seeing Lettie with her arms around Robbie, who had started to sing an old sea shanty, which he must have picked up in the asylum; so grateful things were different to what I had expected.

*

It was late when we arrived back home at the farm, Robbie heading immediately into his room, which left the rest of us the opportunity to talk about his ordeal. Dad did the perfect thing and brought out a cold bottle of his favourite Abbots Lager. We each found our place around the lace covered dining room table, Dad pouring a glass of beer for all except Mum, who said she would make herself a pot of tea in the kitchen.

“I can’t tell ya how good it is to be home,” I said leaning back in my chair, finally able to relax. “Things have been like a roller-coaster in Melbourne lately, not all of it has been bad, though. What do you reckon about it, Lett?”

“I don’t know how much Aunty May has told you,” Lettie said to Dad. “But, Seb helped me get a job at Melbourne Uni, in the kitchen of the King’s College with a lovely lady called Madeline. She’s helped me settle in along with some other college students, Seb and I have met. My first pay packet helped too.”

Lettie had a sip of her beer and then hopped up to see if Mum wanted help in the kitchen.

“May writes quite often, Seb and tells us things. Most of which, we don’t want to know,” Dad murmured, making me wonder exactly what Aunty May had put in these letters. “She reckons that you and Lettie are moving in different circles down there. I just hope you know what you’re doin’. It can be a trap for the unwary.”

“Dad, there’s no way we could forget who we are,” I replied, slightly annoyed. “Aunty May would make sure of that, she’d soon tell us if our heads got too big … and you told me, never owe people money.”

“I don’t like to say too much in front of your mum,” Dad whispered. “But, Vern and I have had to call in every favour we were ever owed to get us through the last few months, including to ask John Minacke, our local insurance assessor, who thankfully I used to play footy with, to give us something for the truck. He stuck his neck out a long, long way to get us enough folding stuff to put us near the black.”

It appeared that things had turned around enough for Lettie and me to be able to return to the city on Monday, without having to worry about the folks for one, but I’d been around for long enough to know that things were never that simple.

“What’s the good news, Tiny?” I asked. “I’m in suspenders.”

Lettie and Mum returned to the dining room as Dad began to explain the complex turn of events.

“After we were forced to place Robbie in the asylum, we didn’t know what to do. All we could do was hope that vindictive bloody preacher woman dropped her complaint to the police, but there was little chance of that. Fortunately, Robbie was settled into a dormitory with boys his own age at Annadale, and he says he was quite happy in there, completely unaffected by the screaming and yelling of patients from buildings nearby.

“When we visited Robbie last Sunday, there was a group of doctors or the like, being shown around Robbie’s ward, talking to most of the boys, appearing likely they were being organised for something. Vern got a bit annoyed that they were ignoring Robbie, so he went up to the doctor who seemed to be in charge, asking him why he didn’t involve Robbie in all the fuss.”

Then, Tiny jumped in, talking loudly over Dad.

“I fronted him about Robbie, but this bloke wouldn’t take a backward step. He said he had to get a new special school up and running at Peaceful Creek within a week, and wouldn’t be put off by anyone or anything. He introduced himself as Dr Lesser, a child psychiatrist, and went about explaining the school’s aims and how he and a small group of colleagues had developed a new strategy for getting the best out of students with difficulties. He won me over completely when he said he would be living in a dormitory next to the new children’s ward at the hospital, and wouldn’t leave the kids unless he absolutely had to.”

“He does seem like a solid man, Vern,” Dad said, taking charge of his story again.

“The psychiatrist told Vern there were several reasons why he wasn’t taking Robbie with him, not the least being that the police didn’t want him to leave, but the main reason was that he wanted time to assess Robbie’s condition at length, saying he wasn’t sure if the asylum should have accepted him at all.”

Dad took a solid swig of his Abbots before continuing.

“The doctor said he had attended a seminar in Germany early last year, where there was an overall fear of being able to speak freely about psychiatric patients, which the ruling Nationalist-Socialists considered sub-human, but he said a young Austrian psychiatrist wasn’t afraid to speak to anyone after the seminar about a possible error being made in assessing learning difficulties, which I have written down, somewhere here.” Dad pulled a card out of his wallet.

“I have it now, it’s called ‘Savant Psychopathy’, which was being misdiagnosed as a major condition he called ‘Autism’. The doctor said he thought Robbie may only have a learning difficulty that can be addressed with patience and a special education program, and later in life, may even develop skills beyond the average.”

“That sounds great, Dad. So Robbie will be able to go to the school and still live here,” Lettie declared, encouraged like me about Robbie’s future.

“It’s not that far to Peaceful Creek.”

“There’s two problems, Lettie. One is that the police have to allow Robbie to leave the asylum, and that depends on the director of the asylum agreeing with the assessment of Dr Lesser, the second is, for Robbie to improve quickly he needs to live at the Special School until he is at least twenty.”

“So, how come Robbie’s home now, if he’s not allowed to leave the asylum. Doesn’t make sense to me?” I asked, confused by the inconsistency of the people in charge of Robbie.

“Apparently, it’s something they always do at Easter and Christmas. Robbie has to be back at Annadale before five on Monday afternoon. So, all we can do is wait for Dr Lesser,” Dad explained, with a fair degree of resignation in his voice.

“Well, he’s here now. So, I’m gonna make the most of it. If he wants to read, I’ll read with him, if he wants to go for a walk, I’ll go with him. And I haven’t heard him sing before, that’s something new,” I stated, trying to inject some enthusiasm into the discussion.

Soon conversation turned away from Robbie to events around the farm, the local comings and goings, and even Aunty May’s possible romance with the foreman. The catch-up continued until the wee hours of the morning but eventually the yawns told us we were done for the night and it was time to pull up stumps.

*

Saturday turned out to be somewhat of a wasted day with rain coming in sideways from the west, pushed by a gale force wind, ruining Mum’s plan for a leisurely picnic by the river. Everyone, except Robbie, ending up around the kitchen table playing cards, spinning yarns, and telling some of the funniest jokes I’d ever heard.

Lettie and I took it in turns to tell watered down versions of some of the weird incidents that led to Lettie getting the job in Madeline’s kitchen, while polishing off cuppa after cuppa, as well as the cakes and sandwiches that Mum and Lettie had got up early to prepare. This was as hard as the day was going to get.

Sunday morning, I helped Tiny move some of the sheep he and Dad had been bringing up to condition into another paddock, and some other odd jobs around the farm, while Dad took Mum into town to go to church. Dad still refused to go inside with her, blaming what happened to his brother in the Great War on all the Christian faiths, who he said did nothing to stop the catastrophe.

Mum and Lettie prepared a beautiful roast chicken lunch, so we used it as another fair excuse to loll away the afternoon by eating and drinking too much, while telling the same yarns that had already been trotted out the day before.

After we had our fill of lunch, Dad told Robbie he could leave the room to study if he wanted. Robbie didn’t need to be told twice, and was off like a shot. When Robbie was safely in his room, Dad said he wanted to say something to the family before we cleared the table, and then waited patiently for our full attention.

“It’s been a tough couple of months for all of us, that’s one thing we can agree on, so I think it would be clearly remiss of me, if I didn’t say something in the way of an apology for making things harder on everybody, than they needed to be,” Dad said faltering for a moment before continuing.

“Setting fire to my truck was the stupidest, stupidest thing I have ever done,” his bottom lip started to quiver as he looked away from us.

“Dad, you don’t have to. Everything’s all right now, isn’t it?” Lettie asked and then looked at me to see if I knew more.

“No, nothing else can go wrong, Lettie,” Dad replied, barely holding himself together. “Just let me finish. I want to say sorry to you all.”

“Edwin, Leticia’s right. You don’t have to apologise,” Mum jumped in. She was not known to say a lot, so when she speaks, everyone listens. “We know you only did it for Robert. He will get into Peaceful Creek, I firmly believe that. And, I also believe Dr Lesser has Robert’s best interests at heart. I’ve held my tongue for long enough, but now I have something to say.” Mum looked at Tiny, Lettie and then me, in order.

“Leticia, you’ve been given a wonderful opportunity at the King’s College — so, stay there. Vernon and Sebastian, you both have jobs, many don’t. Look after what you’ve got. Also, Robert is your dad’s and my responsibility. So, let us put our house in order, our way.”

Everyone was stunned into silence to hear Mum speak this way.

“Righto, I’ve told everyone off now, so you kids can get up and do the dishes if that isn’t too much to ask. Dad and I have things we need to discuss.”

All three of us not-quite-so-grown-up kids got up and quietly cleared the table and then toddled off to the kitchen. We had been told, without any doubt, that the folks would ask for our help, if, and when they needed it, and not before.

Later on Sunday night at supper, everyone had a good laugh about how serious Mum had been in the afternoon. Lettie and I joked about how she had made us feel like we were ten again. But, Mum had made her expectations clear, she wanted us to act like the adults we had become.

Robbie came out of his room after supper wanting Lettie and I to sing the sea shanty ‘Botany Bay’ with him before we went back to the city tomorrow. We were a hilarious musical act singing all the wrong words completely out of tune around the piano; the perfect note to end our last night at home.

*

The next morning, we reluctantly left the farm to catch the train back to the city. Lettie and I said our goodbyes to Mum, Dad and Robbie at home, telling them that everything would turn out fine with Dr Lesser’s help, and that we would write more often, instead of leaving it up to Aunty May to relay our news.

Tiny took us to the train station, carrying Lettie’s canvas bag onto the platform, before saying: “I’ve been thinking about coming down to the city myself, if ya don’t mind a visitor. After all, Aunty May keeps asking me to come and stay, in every one of her letters,” Tiny said.

Lettie and I winked at each other and said that we’d come across some places in town during the last four weeks that would scare the pants off him.

Tiny replied that nothing in the city could ever scare him, but I guaranteed him he wouldn’t say that, if he had seen the display a set of twins put on at the ‘Red Square’.

“Or some students at a university debate,” Lettie added.

Lettie and I talked our heads off, all the way back to the city, excited and positive about Robbie and the brighter prospects back home.

As we stepped from our carriage on the ‘Spirit’ onto the packed platform of Spencer Street Station, washed-out from our trip, the first person we noticed, stood head and shoulders above the rest.

It was Charlie, looking down in the mouth.

This wasn’t a complete surprise, although Lettie and I expected Charlie or Elaine would come around a little bit later after we returned to let us know that William had gone, and maybe ask us the awkward question; if we knew he was leaving, or where he was going.

Lettie and I hated lying to anyone, especially people we really cared about, like Elaine and Charlie, but we couldn’t see any way around this without telling a white lie; if only for the sake of not making William’s leaving any harder than it was.

“Charlie, how ya doing? You didn’t have to come and meet me at the station,” Lettie shouted as Charlie approached, slightly overdoing it.

“I’ll be seein’ ya tomorra’ at the uni.”

“I’ve got some news for ya both,” Charlie murmured, preparing us for what we knew was coming. “I think it’s bad news, but anyway. William has left for Spain. He says he’s not going there to fight, though he would not ease our minds beyond that. He says he will return to Elaine, and us, of course.”

“This is terrible, Charlie. How is Elaine? She must be beside herself with worry,” said Lettie quietly.

“She found out Friday morning, in a letter William left under her door. She cried for the next two days but she was better yesterday, and today. Now she seems resigned to it, even angry at him. I think it would be for the best, Lettie, if you could wait for a day or so, before going to see Elaine. She’s not returning to lectures until Wednesday.”

Charlie stopped, and then shook his head. “I just don’t know what’s got into him. Maybe, he wants to see things firsthand, that’s all I can think of … sorry for hitting you with news like this as soon as you step off the train, but I felt you should hear it from a friend.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” I replied. “It’s hard to understand why he would want to go to Spain when he has so much to stay here for. I just hope he does what he has to do and then comes back quickly, in one piece.”

“We all do, Charlie,” Lettie added. “I’ll go and see Elaine later in the week, she may feel better by then. I just wish William could have thought about …” Lettie’s voice faded as she looked down at the ground.

“I’ll leave you to get back to your aunt’s,” Charlie mumbled to himself, appearing done in. “Sorry again for ruining your return.”

“No, you haven’t Charlie, not at all,” I insisted before shaking his hand.

“Thanks for coming down to let us know,” Lettie said and then gave him a peck on the cheek, before saying we would stay in touch.

Charlie headed quickly toward the front of the station, Lettie and I followed slowly behind.