Ruth had plenty of time to mull over what had happened between her and Sam as she travelled slowly to Leicester on a train that seemed to stop and start continually. He was quite right to say that nobody fell out of love with someone overnight and she wasn’t surprised he’d been hurt by her actions.
They’d both had said things they didn’t mean, neither of them had had the sense to put things right and here they were – with possibly the shortest engagement ever. She didn’t think of him as a second-best option, but she could just about understand why he might believe that. Every time she spoke, the difference between their education and upbringing was evident. It didn’t matter to her but men might be more touchy; it might make him feel inferior, which was absolute nonsense.
It could have been a problem if she’d had a family to go back to, but she didn’t, and anyway, they were marrying each other, not their families. She smiled ruefully. Actually, Aunt Jemima would have loved Sam – she hadn’t been a snob and there had been as many working-class suffragettes as there had been upper and middle class. The women had banded together to get the vote and that was more important than their so-called place in society.
The lance corp who was sitting opposite had taken the hint, as had his companions; not only had they talked quietly, refrained from swearing most of the time, but one of them had also got up and opened the window to let some of the blue smoke out.
Several tedious hours later, the train slowed and Eddie got to his feet. ‘We’re here, Bombardier, and only half an hour late, which is a record.’ He nodded at her kitbag but she shook her head.
‘Thank you, soldier, but I can manage my own kit. However, as you and your companions obviously know Leicester station, perhaps you could direct me to somewhere I can catch a bus to Dunwoody Hall.’
‘We can do better than that, there’ll be transport waiting for us and I’ll tell the driver to drop you off as we go past the OCTU.’
For the first time, she smiled at him. ‘That would be a great help, I’m quite prepared to wait for the first bus but a lift even with you lot will be much better.’
They appreciated her feeble attempt at a joke and she let them out first and then followed as it was easier to negotiate the narrow doorway with an empty carriage. The lone civilian had got off ages ago.
She was rather dreading clambering down from the carriage with her kitbag on her shoulder but accomplished it without mishap. This was fortunate as the group of men she’d just travelled from London with had waited for her.
The rain was heavier, it was more like the end of November than the end of October, but it was always colder in the North than in London where she’d just been. With the help of the seven pinpricks of light from their torches, they made their way through the station and out into the forecourt where a three-tonne lorry, engine running, was awaiting.
The driver, an ATS, leaned out of the window when she saw her. ‘Come up front, you don’t want to travel with that lot. Nobody would.’
There were catcalls and the sound of laughter from the canvas-covered rear and Ruth realised the vehicle was already full. ‘Thank you, the lance corp said you’d give me a lift.’
‘Dunwoody Hall? I’ve dropped off lots of girls but not for a couple of days.’
Ruth pushed her kitbag into the cab first and then clambered up after it. It was blissfully warm inside, but this was just the contrast to the cold night air as there weren’t heaters in a lorry cab.
‘Thank you for this, I really wasn’t looking forward to hanging about in the dark waiting for the first bus.’
‘That’s okay, Bombardier, I often pick up and drop off girls going for officer training.’ The driver turned sharply out of the station forecourt and then drove rather fast through the blackout. The headlights on the lorry were reduced to a tiny beam and if anything appeared in their path, Ruth was sure they’d not be able to avoid a collision.
‘I know nothing about Dunwoody Hall or OCT. I don’t suppose you’ve picked up any snippets that would help me,’ Ruth said as they hit a big pothole and her bottom left the seat and returned with a thump.
‘I do know quite a lot, some of it not very good. For instance, some girls were chucked out of the course after two days because they didn’t know which knife or fork to use at dinner. What’s that got to do with being an officer?’
‘Not a lot but those in charge still think that girls from a less privileged background shouldn’t be officers. Giving them a dozen knives and forks and watching to see if they know which one to use is one way.’
The driver snorted. ‘That’s plain daft.’
‘I agree,’ Ruth said. ‘It’s unfair to dismiss candidates for such trivial reasons.’
‘Last week I picked up someone who’d chucked it in. She told me being an officer wasn’t what she’d expected and would rather remain a sergeant.’
Neither of the pieces of information Ruth had been given were particularly encouraging. She was tempted to remain in the lorry and then be dropped at the nearest station, but she couldn’t do that because then she’d be AWOL and be put on a charge and possibly lose the stripes she’d already got.
No, if – when – she found out more about her responsibilities as an officer, they didn’t appeal then she’d do something silly and fail the course. That way she could still progress as an NCO and hopefully without any black marks against her name.
‘Here we are, I can’t take you up the drive but it’s no more than half a mile. You’re lucky it’s not raining.’
‘Thank you so much, I really appreciate the lift. I’ve got my greatcoat on and my waterproof is in my bag so it doesn’t matter if it rains.’
As the lorry rumbled off, she could hear the moans from the men in the back and smiled. Soldiers loved to moan and if they weren’t doing so their NCOs would be worried. Probably they didn’t moan when they were on the front line as they’d be too busy staying alive, but it was boring for those waiting in barracks for the invasion of Europe to begin.
Ruth marched with her bag on her shoulder down the drive. It was well maintained so there was no danger of her going headfirst into a pothole, which was a relief. She was walking for twenty minutes before the pinprick of light from her torch showed her she was approaching the house.
It was now very late and she thought it quite possible she wouldn’t be able to gain entry but have to find a shed or outbuilding in which to spend the remainder of the night. She was in two minds whether to risk being horribly unpopular by banging on the door or risk being thought indecisive for not doing so.
The house was huge, late Victorian she thought, from the towers, gargoyles and crenelated roof. As she reached the imposing portico and front door, the heavens opened, which decided her next move. There was a brass knocker shaped like a dolphin and she grasped it and banged it twice.
Almost immediately she heard footsteps. She held her bag by the handles at her side so it would be easier for her to negotiate whatever blackout arrangements they had.
A male voice spoke from behind the door without opening it. ‘Identify yourself.’
‘Bombardier Cox, reporting for Officer Cadet Training.’ This man was quite definitely an officer.
Ruth heard the door open but the entrance hall was as dark as outside so she couldn’t see the speaker or if there were any curtains between her and him. The small beam from her trusty torch showed her it was safe to step in.
The door closed behind her and the man who’d let her in switched on the central light. Ruth blinked, screwed up her eyes, unable to see after the darkness.
‘Are you going to stand there with your eyes closed for much longer, Bombardier?’
She turned, jumped to attention and saluted. Facing her was a captain, one arm missing, but everything else intact – including a perfect set of blindingly white teeth and flashing blue eyes. He obviously found her amusing.
‘I apologise for arriving in the middle of the night, sir.’ She’d been going to ask if he could direct her to her room but something about his expression made her wary. Was this another trap to weed out unsuitable candidates?
‘Exactly why is this? If the rest of your cohort managed to arrive at a seemly hour on the correct day, I cannot see why you failed to do so.’
‘With all due respect, sir, I’ve arrived two days early, not late. The senior commander at Regent’s Park was most insistent that I travelled immediately regardless of the time of my arrival.’
His false smile vanished and he glared at her. ‘I see. In which case, Bombardier, you’ll understand that your accommodation isn’t available. I’m sure you will be comfortable in an armchair in the recreation room.’
She met his icy gaze without flinching. ‘Thank you, Captain, an armchair indoors is far preferable to spending the night in an outbuilding, which I was quite prepared to do.’ She saluted again, forcing him to reciprocate the gesture, which annoyed him even more.
Ignoring him was difficult, she could feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of her coat, but with commendable aplomb she marched past him and headed to the rear of the building where she was pretty sure she’d find the kitchen and be able to make herself a hot drink and something to eat.
Officers were supposed to be resilient, decisive and quick thinking and she rather thought she’d proved to be all three. The unidentified captain probably thought her insubordinate and a troublemaker but for some reason she didn’t care. She was here to prove she was the sort of girl who could take command, could lead a platoon or section of girls effectively, and no supercilious young officer was going to put her off her stride.
* * *
Sam devoured his meal with enthusiasm. His mum had always been an excellent cook and this rabbit stew with dumplings followed by baked apples and custard was no exception. He’d been concerned that neither of his grandparents had joined them at the table.
‘I know you said that Grandpa doesn’t come in for his supper, but what about Nan? I should really have gone to speak to her before sitting down to eat,’ Sam said.
‘Your nan’s in the front room, she’s no trouble really apart from wandering off if we don’t keep the door locked,’ Mum said. His look of horror made her laugh. ‘Goodness me, I don’t mean she’s locked in the front room all day, that would be unkind. No, I just have to make sure the front and back doors are locked and the keys put out of the way.’
‘I’ll come with you, Mum. I’d offer to carry the tray but I can’t do that at the moment.’
The front room was warm and cheerful, a good fire burning in the grate, and the little old lady huddled in the armchair listening to the radio was scarcely recognisable as the stern, upright, sturdy grandparent he’d last seen three years ago.
‘Hello, Nan, it’s Sam, I broke my leg so I’m staying here for a bit.’
She looked up and her eyes focused. ‘I know who you are and I can see you’ve got a broken leg. I might be old but I’m not stupid.’
The crockery rattled and Mum almost dropped the tray. ‘Mother, isn’t it good that Sam’s home? I’ve brought your supper.’
‘I’m not hungry. I don’t want it. It smells nasty. I want jelly and cream.’
His grandmother’s mental clarity had been short lived. ‘If you put it on the table, Mum, I’ll stay with her and see if I can persuade her to eat. From the look of her she doesn’t eat nearly enough.’
He wished the words unsaid as his mother’s eyes filled. ‘I know. I know it’s my fault, but if I try and make her eat, she throws it on the floor or at me so I tend to leave it and hope for the best.’
‘Right – she’ll not be throwing anything whilst I’m here. Go, Mum, make yourself a lovely cuppa and leave this to me. Close the door, please, let’s keep the heat in.’
He waited until this had been done and then propped his crutches against the wall and sat on the bentwood chair his mum had put next to the armchair for him.
‘Okay, Nan, do you prefer to feed yourself or would you like me to help you?’
She ignored him and he smiled because he could see she was listening. Maybe having somebody else looking after her, someone she couldn’t boss about, was what was needed to improve things.
There were no knives or forks on the tray and this saddened him. There were, however, three pudding spoons. He filled one of them with the tasty stew – bones and lumps carefully removed – and by rotating on the chair was able to hold the spoon against her mouth.
The old woman sniffed, then her mouth opened and he slipped the food in. She still didn’t look at him, said nothing, but allowed him to feed her and to his delight she ate every mouthful.
‘There’s baked apple and custard, Nan, do you still have room for it?’ He wasn’t sure she understood what he was saying but it would be disrespectful not to give her a chance to express her wishes.
Finally, she looked round, nodded and opened her mouth like a baby bird. The pudding went down as easily as the stew and he could almost swear there was more colour in her cheeks already after having eaten a proper meal. He wondered how long it was since she’d eaten more than a few bites of anything.
There was a china cup with a spout on the tray which he assumed was for the invalid to drink from. He checked and it contained tea – not hot but warm enough to make it palatable. He offered it to her but she ignored the cup and just opened her mouth.
She drank the lot. He carefully picked up the table with the tray and placed it on the other side of him.
‘I’m so pleased to see you eating and enjoying it, Nan. You’ll feel so much better with good food inside you.’ He leaned over and hugged her, put his bristly cheek against her papery thin face and she didn’t pull away.
He sat back but kept hold of her hand and gently stroked it. Throughout all this she didn’t look at him, but after a few minutes her fingers slowly closed over his and they were holding hands.
Sam had never liked his grandmother but seeing her so vulnerable, a shadow of herself, triggered a reaction in him. Maybe it was because he too was in a difficult place – had possibly lost the love of his life and had no idea where he would be posted when he was declared fit in a few weeks.
‘Nan, I’m going to keep you company, help you to eat, whilst I’m here even if I can’t do much else. I could read to you if you’d like me to. Not the Bible – what about an Agatha Christie?’
Her eyes were closed, and she looked more relaxed, but he didn’t think she was asleep. He continued to chat to her, telling her about Ruth, about how he broke his leg and anything else he could think of.
Then her hand went slack and for a horrible second, he thought she’d passed away but she was just asleep. He pulled the comforter over her, reached out for his crutches and stood up. Something had occurred to him whilst he was nattering and he wanted to share it with his parents.
The handsome walnut clock on the mantelpiece struck nine. Sam was shocked he’d been in there so long, but surprised his mother hadn’t poked her head around the door to see what was going on.
He pulled it open and heard angry voices coming from the kitchen. His grandfather was back and demanding his supper. He thought his father was going to sort this out but obviously this hadn’t happened.
He shouldered his way into the kitchen, expecting to see the man he loathed as reduced as his nan was by age and illness. He hesitated, seeing that his grandfather was still as big and belligerent as he’d always been. His mother was almost cowering by the range and there was no sign of his father. What the hell was going on?
The old man was thumping on the table, emphasising every shouted word. ‘You get my food on the table, woman, and do it now. This is my house and I’ll turn you and my useless son out if you don’t mind your Ps and Qs.’
Sam kicked the door shut behind him. The sudden noise made his mother look up and her tear-streaked face was enough to make him forget that for years this obnoxious man had bullied him and he stepped forward to put things right.
‘Shut your trap, old man, or I’ll bloody well shut it for you,’ Sam snarled, his swearing and poor grammar deliberate. He wanted to turn the old man’s anger against himself so his mother could escape.
‘How dare you use such language in my house…’
‘It’s not your house, old man, it now belongs to my father and mother, as they take all the responsibility for it. It’s you who can be turned out if you don’t button your lip.’
His grandfather seemed to swell. Sam almost expected actual steam to come out of his ears. This ridiculous thought made him smile, which was the worst thing he could have done.
‘I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget, I’ll not be spoken to like that in my house.’
Suddenly Sam was confronted with a furious old bloke waving a carving knife and from the look on his face he’d every intention of using it.
He didn’t back away. He advanced and swept the old man’s legs from under him using his heavy plastered leg.
‘Good God,’ Dad said from the scullery. ‘What the hell’s going on in here?’ He put down the two full coal scuttles, patted Mum on the arm and then leaned down and heaved Grandpa back to his feet.
‘I upset him and he was going to stab me. I think he’s even more unhinged than Nan.’
Dad took his father by his arms and unceremoniously bundled him out of the back door whilst the old codger continued to yell abuse at them. God knows what the neighbours would think.
Dad slammed the door and locked it behind him. ‘You can cool off out there, you miserable old sod. I’m not having you in here until you calm down.’
‘I’m sorry, Dad, it got a bit out of hand. I heard him screaming at Mum and it escalated from there.’
‘I didn’t know he was back. I was in the coal shed and didn’t hear anything over the shovelling. Are you all right, love? He didn’t hurt you?’
Mum had already recovered – she was tough. She’d had to be to survive living with her in-laws all these years. ‘I refused to make him any supper and he completely lost his temper. I shudder to think what might have happened if you hadn’t come in, Sam.’
‘Will he go back to the pub, Dad? He might be a miserable old codger but I don’t like to think of him freezing to death.’
‘I’ll let him in again soon. In a way, I’m glad this has happened because from now on he’s not having things his way. If there’s any of that stew left, can you heat it up for him, Alice, just this once?’