ELEVEN

Edith rapped smartly on the barn door. She waited a few moments for she was aware that the girl was inside with the bugler. Not that she expected to witness anything improper, she told herself, but there was fear that she might, buried deep inside her. That day in France, when she had stood silently, seething with hurt and anger, watching those two, so much in love – nothing could match that, surely? She had never forgiven Angel for that betrayal.

There was talk, about Jess’s baby, but Edith had not been one of those to point the finger, even though she had been spurned, as usual, by Nana Elderberry. Belinda’s other parent remained a mystery, but the answer was transparent, Edith thought.

She lifted the latch, cleared her throat, walked in.

The bugler, hunched in his chair, was reading. He looked up with a smile. He, at least, appreciated Edith’s concern for his welfare. Jess, with a brief nod, continued with her tidying up.

‘How are you?’ she asked. Her professional eye took in his pallor, the slight trembling of his hands, as he closed the book, and rose politely.

‘Oh – fair, Edith, fair.’

She pulled a chair beside his, looked meaningfully at Jess, who took the hint.

‘Best get home – Belinda will be wailing for her feed, I reckon . . . I will see you tomorrer – unless –’

Unless, Edith thought, as the girl departed, unless he is out on the tiles tonight . . .

‘Sit down, we should have a little chat, I think. Any improvement in the memory, old chap?’ She kept her finger on his pulse, looking directly at him. She spoke pleasantly, but it was imperative she knew.

He looked uncertain. ‘Sometimes – well, I recall things which obviously – were in my childhood. I dream, now and again – of guns – wake up – in a sweat . . . ’ His voice trailed off.

‘That’s all?’

‘Yes.’

‘You know what I have been able to tell you, of course, about your background – do you remember any of that?’

‘No. You say I had a wife and child – before I joined up. You say my wife died in childbirth. But, I don’t –’

‘Your mother looked after your little girl while you were away – sadly, she contracted meningitis, and you lost her, too.’

‘Belinda –’

‘No, Belinda is Jess’s baby – that was not your daughter’s name. Your mother visited you a few times in the nursing home – do you remember that?’

‘I – think – yes. You told me, she died –’

‘In that dreadful influenza epidemic. Your parents left you well-provided for – I have power of attorney, as your close friend, unfortunately, you have no other family. When you feel you can face the world again, we, Rob and I, will help you find a home, a proper place to live, near us, so we can always keep an eye on you.’

‘You are very good to me, Edith – thank you.’

‘You must get more fresh air, my dear, you show the lack of it. But, at least I know you are well fed: the family at The Angel are very kind to you, which we know you appreciate. There is a new member of the household – did they tell you? Another friend of mine, from the days of war . . . ’ Edith’s gaze was intense now. ‘Have you seen her? If so, do you know her, too?’

‘I have seen her face – at the window.’ He looked puzzled. ‘Do I – have I met her?’

Edith did not answer directly. She was satisfied with his answer ‘I think it doesn’t really matter. I don’t know why I mentioned Angel –’ No flicker of recognition at the deliberate use of Angel’s name. ‘Well, is there anything you need – Rob will take your list to town, next time he goes, eh?’

She shook his hand warmly. ‘I will come again, soon.’

‘I do not lack company – I have Jess,’ he said simply.

‘Yes, you have Jess.’ A man, perhaps especially this one, she thought, had needs, which Jess could fulfil. However, he would eventually have to outgrow his dependence on this young person. She was not a suitable match at all, her feelings were of no importance.

*

School was out – both Edmund and Tony were of a mind to celebrate! A jaunt to the sea was mooted, but Aunt Hetty thought that the wind might be strong, off the water. So, it was decided that it would be safer, with Alice in mind, to picnic by the river.

‘Edith and I’ll pick a great basket of watercress – full of iron, eh, Angel? Just what Alice needs. Those who swim, can get more’n their feet wet.’ Aunt Hetty corked the lemonade.

Angel, buttering a mound of bread slices, passed them to Alice, who inserted the ham, being cut by Rob, while Tony, in his turn, smeared on blobs of mustard. Greaseproof paper to wrap, tomatoes in a bag, apples tucked in the corners of the picnic hamper, old cups and plates: towels and bathing costumes clutched under arm, and the crowd at The Angel were ready.

Edith brought her share, including chocolate cake for the children. Edmund carried a bowl and bag of biscuits for Boniface, plus towels for them both, for as he told Angel wryly, ‘The old rogue likes nothing better than getting soaked and shaking himself all over the place.’

Angel found herself walking with Edmund and his dog while Edith and Aunt Hetty ambled along at the rear. Tony bounded ahead, while Alice clung to her father’s free arm as he carried the picnic basket with his other hand.

The grass was soft and spongy to the tread as they made their way to the river, where the willows dipped their branches into the clearest, flowing water that Angel had ever seen. Aunt Hetty and Edith vanished behind the bushes to divest themselves of stockings and shoes, re-emerged with their skirts girdled higher, then went off happily with their basket and knives to cut the bunches of cress.

‘I can paddle, can’t I?’ Alice asked anxiously, pulling off her cotton stockings in full view of the company. She was not grown-up at all today. Angel smiled, it was good to see Alice intent on childish pleasures.

‘I promised, didn’t I?’ she replied, ‘Just let me change in Aunt Hetty’s hidey-hole, and I’ll wade with you, before I decide whether I’m brave enough for a total immersion!’

Rob was already in hot pursuit of Tony, who was making for the diving board and deeper water. Edmund, it appeared, was not inclined to swim for a while, so he was left in charge of the picnic and a jumble of discarded clothes. Boniface, barking, raced after Rob and Tony.

Angel’s bathing costume was a most respectable affair in navy wool with white trim and a neat skirt designed to conceal curves. However, she still felt over-exposed; avoiding Edmund’s eye, she seized Alice by the hand as they stepped into the water together, with little shrieks at its coldness.

Upstream they paddled, to where the river widened, until they were knee-deep. ‘Are you shivering, Alice?’ Angel was concerned. ‘You mustn’t get your skirt wet! Hitch it up a little more. We’d better go back, I think.’

Alice didn’t say, ‘I’m not a baby!’ when Angel towelled her thin legs and cold feet vigorously and insisted that she wriggle into her stockings once more. She draped Aunt Hetty’s cardigan round Alice’s shoulders. ‘There, Alice – have something to eat, then keep in the sun and warm up. Tie my scarf round your head – you don’t want to burn your neck . . . D’you mind if I join Tony for a swim? I haven’t swum since Lou took me to Margate for a holiday, and gave me lessons –’

‘You don’t forget,’ Edmund stated. ‘I might join you, when the ladies return from their picking.’ He glanced around, whistled to Boniface. He was nowhere in sight. ‘Send that wretch back here, if you see him, please, Angel. He knew I was having a crafty snooze while you were all otherwise engaged.’ He did not sound overly concerned.

Two heads bobbed side by side – Rob was not taking any chances, Angel thought, with young Tony being more bold than skilful. She tested the springiness of the board tentatively, gathered up her courage, lifted her arms, closed her eyes – and achieved a spectacular belly-flop.

Choking, her legs tangled in green, slimy river weed, and not yet rising from the water, Angel felt a firm grasp on her shoulders. She came, gasping and terrified, to the surface. Rob’s arms supported her, his dripping face was full of concern. ‘We know the river, you don’t. Let me help you to the bank, Angel. Tony! You are to come out now, too, and run as fast as you can to bring back Angel’s towel. No need to alarm Aunt Hetty or Edith, mind!’

She felt stupid, then suddenly sick, having swallowed much water. Rob held her solicitiously while she retched, ineffectually, then apologised. ‘Oh – I’m so sorry to be so silly, Rob. I haven’t swum for, must be twenty years, and then only in a calm sea in the shallows.’

His arm round her shoulders was very comforting. He seemed perfectly at ease with their close proximity, as if unaware that he clasped her bare skin. She hoped fervently that he would interpret her sudden involuntary trembling as a fit of the shivers, and she was thankful when she saw Tony haring back with her towel. She disengaged herself and wrapped herself in its folds. The three of them walked back together.

She sat between Edith and Edmund while they shared out the sandwiches and nibbled on sprigs of watercress. Bitter, but good, she discovered.

‘Boniface still missing?’ she asked Edmund.

‘He is. Still, we will be returning home shortly, for I understand that Aunt Hetty feels Jess has been left on her own for long enough. Boniface is probably stretched out on the schoolhouse path, sunning himself and snoring, wondering about his dinner.’ He sounded anxious, despite his banter.

Unhappily, this proved not to be the case. They heard the dog’s excited barking when they were still some distance from The Angel.

‘Hold you hard, young Tony!’ Aunt Hetty exclaimed, gripping his jacket, as the barking gave way to agonised, high-pitched yelps, and the men set off at a run, abandoning the things they were carrying. ‘Here, my lad, you can carry the picnic basket, it’s not heavy now.’

Alice, who had been walking with her father, slowed down, wavering a little, her face drained of colour. Angel was immediately at her side, as was Edith, and together they offered instant support.

‘Sorry . . . ’ Alice said faintly, ‘I suppose I’m not as strong as I’d like to think I am – is Boniface in trouble, d’you think?’

‘Been butted by your mother goat, I expect,’ Edith said briskly.

They remained, wide-eyed with shock and disbelief at the open gate. The yellow dog was sprawled on the path, being viciously attacked by a mangy, snarling, brown dog, thin, but more agile, at his throat. Jess, copper stick in hand, was swinging wildly at the aggressor, while Nancy, the goat, trailing her tethering rope was bleating pitifully by the house, her little female kid ducking under her, desperately seeking solace from her pendulous teats. Rob, calling to Edmund, attempting to catch hold of Boniface’s collar, threw a sack over the other dog’s head, wrestling with it, while Edmund dragged Boniface free. It was a bloodstained struggle – Angel and the others felt powerless.

‘Get the children round the back – inside!’ Jess yelled to Aunt Hetty. Her shout galvanised them into action, Aunt Hetty and Edith propelled Alice and Tony away from the mayhem.

Angel could see that Rob was very likely to get bitten, that he and Edmund, Boniface, too, would need first-aid – even as she moved cautiously toward them, the brown animal tore free, streaked past her, through the gate and bolted down the lane.

‘Are either of you – hurt?’ she hardly recognised her voice. She watched, as Edmund bent over Boniface’s still body. Jess wound the goat’s rope round her wrist, and, murmuring soothingly, led mother and kid back down the meadow. Then Angel became aware of a different sound – harsh weeping. Someone – it could only be the bugler – was crouched over something lying in the grass. She guessed at once what that must be, for the other kid was nowhere to be seen.

‘We’re all right, Angel,’ Rob told her, and his voice, too, sounded strange. ‘Will ye look at the dog?’ he asked.

How could she tell Edmund that Boniface was dead? Probably not from the great gashes in his hide: ‘His heart must have given out, Edmund.’ she said quietly, as he knelt there, unbelieving, beside her, cradling the dog’s head.

‘I will fetch the trap, take you and Edith home with him,’ Rob said, ‘I am so sorry, Edmund – he was a grand old fellow.’

‘Brave, too,’ Angel added. She straightened up. ‘I will see if I can help calm the children and I’ll make some tea. I won’t tell them what’s happened yet –’

‘Thank you,’ Rob said. ‘Edmund, we’ll move him first, shall we? Cover him over, in the trap, before Edith comes out.’

Jess came towards her, carrying the other limp little body. Angel took it from her arms, gently wrapped it in her towel, and motioned Jess to go back to the bugler. Poor Nancy kept up her plaintive mourning, re-tethered a safe distance away.

Angel took the pathetic bundle into the scullery for Rob to see to, later. What a sad end to their picnic – her own modest drama paled into insignificance. She carefully sponged the stains on her dress – another thing to keep from the children right now.

There was Alice to put to bed, Tony to reassure and a quick whisper to Aunt Hetty to put her in the picture. Rob, they agreed, should tell Alice and Tony of the twin tragedies.

 

Jess sat beside the bugler on the bed. Angel standing in the doorway, could not see his face, for Jess held him close, against her breast. His arms were tight round her waist, and Jess rocked him gently, as if he were Belinda. Angel thought: ‘He is crying still, silently now . . . ’ She suddenly felt like howling, herself. She must steal quietly away, for she felt like an interloper. As Edith must have felt, coming upon herself and Harry, in the barn, that day.

 

‘I had to inform the policeman,’ Rob said briefly, explaining his prolonged absence. ‘They intend to shoot the dog, if they can find it. It does not come from the village, as far as they know.’

‘Edmund –?’ Angel asked. He must be bereft, she thought.

‘He and I have seen to things. Edith will stay with him tonight. Is Tony upstairs with Alice? I’ll go to them, now.’

‘You will go up when he comes back?’ Aunt Hetty asked, ‘It is time for the opening up – the bar will be full of the story, no doubt.’

Jess looked in. ‘Belinda’ll be getting desperate and Nana’ll wonder where I am. See you tomorrer, Aunt Hetty, Nurse.’ Her face too, was stained with tears.

‘Thank you, dear Jess – what would we do without you?’

The children slept at last, after all the upset. Angel went down wearily for a glass of milk. She met Rob, as she so often did, by the stairs.

‘Rob –’ she said, wishing she did not have to remind him, ‘I put – you know – in the scullery –’

‘I will see to it, when we are closed.’ Then, ‘No doubt we shall hear the bugler tonight, Angel.’

And Jess, she knew, would be back.