How odd it felt to Maggie to be walking in Castle Maine meadows early next morning, a bright sun already climbing the sky, the fields full of buttercups – a carpet of gold!
She’d agreed to meet Tony first thing to give him her answer. How pale he was – on edge. She’d been chattering on, anything to avoid the subject, but at last she’d run out of things to say. The silence between them was growing painful.
‘My papers have come,’ Tony said at last. ‘I caught the post as I came out.’
‘Well?’ she demanded when nothing else was forthcoming. ‘Oh, Tony, for goodness’ sake! Are you going to tell me or not?’
He stopped.
‘I’m to be Bevinned.’
‘Down the pit? Oh, Tony!’
‘It wasn’t exactly what I’d imagined, either. I shall hardly cut a dashing figure.’
‘But the miners do a wonderful job!’ She was desperate to reassure him. ‘And at least you’ll be safe. We couldn’t fight the war without coal. Will it be our Billy’s pit, do you know?’
‘Don’t know yet.’ He kicked a loose stone from the tow-path into the river, and water splashed up. A sparrow hawk hovered high in the sky, waiting to swoop, and he looked up at it, frowning.
‘I feel relieved, if you must know. I have to do something. You may think I don’t care just because I’ve never rushed to volunteer.’
‘Tony, that’s unfair!’
‘I’m doing my bit running the club,’ he burst out. ‘I shall have to get someone in to run things. I can’t do both.’
‘You’ll sort something out.’ She had every faith in Tony.
She dawdled near the river, gazing down into the muddy water. Upstream, constrained by the weir, these slow, still waters would be angry and full of surging life, thanks to her grandfather’s factory.
Glancing up, she saw in Tony’s eyes the desperation he was trying to hide. Her heart went out to him. He deserved better than someone incapable of coming to a decision.
‘I wish I could say yes.’
‘Why can’t you?’ He pulled a stalk of grass from the verge and twisted it between his fingers. ‘How long must you keep me waiting? You’ve been dithering since France.’
Tony had never wavered, whereas she – she didn’t even know how to say it without hurting him.
They’d never talked enough … not as she had with Hughie. Talking to Hughie had been like holding a conversation with herself. She’d told Hughie everything.
‘Hughie and I—’ she stumbled, feeling his name on her lips, longing suddenly, desperately to have him back. It was the meadows. Why had she arranged to meet here, of all places?
‘Maggie, please get it out of your head that I’m trying to replace Hughie! I know how much he meant to you …’ He took her by the shoulders, and would have drawn her close if she’d let him.
‘I love you,’ he said, sounding exasperated.
‘Oh, Tony—’ She stopped, dried up, struggled for words. ‘I do love you. I’m just not sure if I love you enough.’
‘But we could work at it!’ he said eagerly. ‘Why throw away all the good we have? I want to try and be a father to the children, Maggie! We could be a proper family.’
‘I can’t force my feelings,’ she answered quietly, and Tony let go of her hands.
‘You’re turning me down?’
‘I’m not sure what I’m doing. I will give you an answer soon, I promise.’
‘I can’t cope with this any longer, Maggie. I don’t know any man who could! I can’t eat … sleep … Have you any idea what you’re doing to me?’
‘I’ll tell you tonight,’ she said firmly. ‘I promise. I’ll get Mam to sit in, and call at the club later.’
Holly walked slowly up her grandmother’s path. Usually she burst in full of some tale or other to entertain them with, school, her mam, what their Harry was up to, but today she was desperate to talk to Billy – alone.
With a little luck Gran would already be at work, Granddad preoccupied with his garden, and she’d be able to catch her uncle before he left for his shift.
Inside, following the smell of breakfast through into the kitchen, she found Billy alone, filling his flask with tea. Something in the way his face set told her he wasn’t pleased to see her.
‘I thought you might turn up.’
‘What else did you expect? What’s my granddad going to say when he knows you’ve joined the Peace Pledge Union? I bet you’ve never told him.’
With great deliberation, Billy screwed the top on his flask and leaned back against the sink, folding his arms.
‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ he said firmly.
‘It is!’ She faltered. Why was he behaving like this? ‘Don’t you want to join up?’
‘Why should I? I’m down the pit, ain’t I?’
‘I’ll join up myself once I’m old enough. It’s right what Granddad says, sometimes you have to fight, though you don’t want to.’
He was watching her warily, trying to take her measure, she supposed.
‘There’s no earthly need for this war, in my opinion. There’s plenty of other measures we could have taken.’
‘Like what?’ This wasn’t Billy talking. Who had put these ideas in his head?
‘There’s negotiation, for one!’ It sounded like a well-rehearsed argument. ‘Too many people wanted this war!’
‘No one wants war.’ She shook her head. ‘If Granddad could hear you now—’
‘Holly, drop it! You’re not old enough to understand, and why should I have to explain? I’m entitled to my own opinion!’
She came further into the room and dropped her satchel on the table.
‘I don’t know you any more.’ She wanted the old Billy back, the one she could have a joke with, who took her to the football and helped her with her homework.
At that moment, her grandfather opened the back door from the gennel and came into the kitchen. He looked from one strained face to the other.
‘Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?’ he asked.
‘Nothing, Granddad.’ Holly developed a sudden interest in her shoes, scuffing one against the other, feeling Billy watching the two of them stonily.
‘Isn’t it time you were at school?’ Peter suggested, going over to the sink to fill his watering can. ‘Your gran’s already gone, if it’s her you’re looking for, love.’
‘I’ll catch her later.’
Peter turned, and for the first time in her life Holly couldn’t look her granddad in the face. And it was Billy’s fault!
‘I’ll tell her you’ve been, then, shall I?’ Peter went out again, frowning.
‘You’ll have to tell him,’ she said as the back door closed, but Billy busied himself with the rest of his snap – bread, a twist of sugar wrapped in paper.
‘Do you think I don’t want to? You’ve only to mention the PPU and it’s a red rag. He’d never understand.’
‘You won’t know if you don’t try.’ She ran her finger along the table edge, wishing she could think how to persuade him otherwise. How could she bear to know and never say a word? It wasn’t right.
‘Is that why you’ve stayed down the pit? Because you don’t want to join up?’
‘I’m not a coward, if that’s what you mean!’ A fierce light burned in his eyes, and relief surged through her. She’d known he wasn’t a coward.
‘Then why?’ she implored.
He fastened the straps on his bag.
‘Being stuck in the dark all day, that’s why. Not that I expect you to understand, but it makes a man think.’ He gave a short, dry laugh, without any humour in it at all. She saw only the pain in his eyes.
How awkward it all was, and complicated – not at all as she’d imagined. Her heart went out to her uncle.
‘It’s made me realise how precious life is.’ He turned to look at her. ‘I can’t help how I think, Holly. Please try and understand me! I care about everything up here in the sunshine. I could no more take another man’s life than – well, than my own.’
‘Billy, I do understand.’
‘Do you?’ he asked roughly.
She didn’t know. She wanted to comfort him – she wanted to shake him!
‘I’d best go,’ she said. ‘Or I’ll be late.’ She went out and left him to it, more confused than ever.
‘What’s the matter, Maggie?’ Andrew Hardaker followed her into the sluice room. How distracted she looked – her cap askew, hair untidy. Sister Aspen had kept up a constant barrage of criticism that day.
‘I don’t like my nurses looking harassed and under pressure, even if they are,’ she’d said.
Maggie tipped a tray of bandages into the waste, giving herself time to think. She told Andrew most things, but could she tell him this?
‘I’m all right.’ She washed her hands at the sink and reached up to straighten her cap.
This was Andrew, though. He knew her too well to be fobbed off with less than the truth.
‘Sorry,’ she added. ‘I felt so much better, too, after our talk yesterday.’
That decided her.
‘Tony’s asked me to marry him,’ she said. ‘I’m supposed to give him my answer tonight – if I ever make my mind up!’
‘No wonder you look worried.’
Andrew’s eyes were full of an instant sympathy, and something else, too. Was he displeased?
He probably thought her an idiot needing time at all. Suitors were hardly falling at her feet, a widow with two children.
‘It’s that obvious, is it?’ She tried to smile but some of her tension began to dissolve. Andrew was an exceptionally good listener.
‘Don’t rush things,’ he advised. ‘Make him wait if you’re not sure.’
‘I’m not sure, Andrew, and that’s about the top and bottom of it. Though I do like him a lot.’ She was suddenly weary of the whole subject.
‘Is like enough? Things aren’t always easy, or exactly black or white. It’s a big decision, Maggie.’
‘You’re telling me.’ She noticed the little frown of worry creasing his warm, good-natured face. She’d been so wrapped up in her own problems of late, she’d scarce paid attention to anyone else.
‘Are you OK, Andrew?’
He shrugged, smiling as if she’d found him out.
‘I have a decision to make as well,’ he confessed. ‘I’m thinking of joining up – if I can find someone to take the practice over. It’s been on my mind for some time.’
‘Oh, Andrew, I wish you’d told me! Though – I’m not surprised. I wondered if you might.’ She was upset, though. She enjoyed working with Andrew, and she’d miss him.
Doctors like Andrew were few and far between, war or no war.
‘I suppose you must do what your conscience dictates, but – Sister Aspen?’
‘Sister won’t be happy,’ he agreed, managing a chuckle.
‘I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes!’
‘I’ve got some thinking to do.’ He looked down into her face, his heart contracting to see the weariness in her eyes, the dark smudges beneath that he wanted to reach out and smooth away.
He stepped back instead, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his white coat.
‘We’ve both got things on our minds, Maggie. You won’t do anything until you’re sure, will you?’
Maggie shook her head. The problem was, Tony wouldn’t wait for ever. She was running out of time.
‘See what they’ve done now, Adèle! Mother’s figurine’s broken!’ There was outrage, disbelief and a world of regret in Silas Bradshaw’s voice.
Adèle, who had just come into the drawing-room, found her husband on his knees picking up the pieces of a shepherdess whose usual station in life had been on the mantelpiece. By his side lay a leather football, and the French windows were open wide.
‘Oh, Silas,’ she chided gently, sorry to see him so upset. ‘I did warn you to move things.’
‘And I warned you what would happen if we allowed a horde of savages into the house!’ He was furious she’d been proved right.
Adèle took the pieces from him and laid them carefully on the table.
‘They’re boys, Silas, that’s all. Boys sent far away from home because of the war, looking for a little fun.’
Something in his face stopped her. Silas had been inordinately fond of his mother, and inordinately fond of this piece of china, too.
‘I’ll see if Stokes can do anything,’ she consoled.
At that moment, a small boy appeared at the window, hopping from one foot to the other. Silas stooped down and scooped up the ball.
‘Yours?’ he demanded gruffly, proffering the offending article with the icy calm that used to quell an unruly boardroom.
‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’ The boy came in, blushing fiercely. ‘Mr Perkins sent me to apologise, sir, and—’
He looked across at the table, and spotted the broken ornament.
‘Anything else?’ Silas followed his gaze, and felt his loss anew.
‘No, sir. That is—’ He looked at Silas beseechingly. ‘Oh, can I have the ball back, sir? We’re having such a topping game! We’re only a goal behind, and Mr Perkins has gone in goal and – I never meant to break anything, sir!’ He stopped and hung his head.
‘I am sorry.’
Adèle knew what the upshot would be, but watched her dear husband’s struggle with sympathy.
His pain at losing a cherished reminder of his mother and his natural irritability came up against the innate kindliness, a child of his middle age, which flourished despite his best endeavours to stifle it. Knowing of its existence would have shocked his colleagues, factory employees and household alike.
‘Oh, take the thing!’
Adèle bent her head to hide a smile as, hardly daring to believe his luck, the boy took the ball from Silas’s outstretched hand and ran back outside.
‘That was kind of you, dear.’ Adèle managed to straighten her face before she spoke.
‘Kindness be blowed! What did you expect? I should hang and quarter the boy? The damage is done. I told you there’d be trouble.’
‘So you did,’ she agreed amiably, ‘And how nice to be proved right.’
‘I never wanted the house overrun with boys!’
‘I know you didn’t, darling. But we didn’t have a choice.’
‘There’s a war on,’ they said together, and a smile tugged at his mouth.
What would he say if he knew she’d seen right through him! She reached up to straighten his cravat.
‘I wish people could see you now,’ she murmured.
‘Meaning, exactly?’ He raised his eyebrows.
‘Meaning – I wish people could see you now!’ She smiled. ‘I’ll go and see what they’re up to out there.’
She reached up and kissed his cheek, then went out. He heard her laughing. What a strange mood she was in this morning!
‘Dashed if I’ll ever understand women,’ he murmured.
He rocked back on his heels, listening intently to the resumed noise of the robust game being played outside.
That lad reminded him of Harry, his great-grandson. Maggie’s lad.
John Bertram wasn’t interested in Bradshaw’s. Who else had he, other than this secret side of the Bradshaw family tree – little as they knew about it?
Harry and Holly – and Maggie, of course.
Silas chewed his lower lip.
But Adèle knew nothing about it, so there was no more he could do. Yet.
Straightening his shoulders, and settling his features back into their usual grimness, he cast a last sorrowful look at the shepherdess and followed his wife.
*
‘It seems an age since I’ve seen John,’ Mary Bertram complained. ‘It feels as if I’m hardly married sometimes. No wonder I get lonely!’
She wondered for the umpteenth time that evening why Laurence Templeton was so quiet.
‘John’s a good man, Laurence. I wish you knew him – you’d like him, I think. He’s loyal and honest – a decent man. He deserves better than me.’
For Mary, it was a rare moment of truth. She was under no illusions. Perhaps she couldn’t love another person better than she loved herself, for if she could, she should certainly love John.
They were walking home from Tony’s Place together, early for once. Laurence had to be back at the RAF station once he’d seen her home.
She watched him curiously, head tilted. It was twilight, with a pale slim moon. It had rained earlier, wafting the scent from the hedgerows.
How romantic it would be if she were here with John! And what a surprising idea that was!
‘Is something the matter, Laurence? You’re quiet.’ In a sudden, unwarranted burst of understanding, she added, ‘It must be pretty odd, landed in a strange country, knowing no one.’
Laurence hailed from Montreal, and had volunteered to fly in Lancaster bombers. She couldn’t imagine a starker and drearier contrast than with sleepy Castle Maine, where nothing ever happened. Even the war had left it untouched. Why, if it wasn’t for the Food Office, where she worked, and the voluntary work, cheering the troops …
Laurence’s gaze, normally so steady and forthright, was avoiding hers tonight.
‘I’d like to get to know you better, Mary.’ He was looking at a clump of hollyhocks, bursting from the hedgerow like gaudily painted ladies.
‘And so you shall!’
‘I’ve never met anyone like you.’ His voice held an odd kind of urgency that made her stop.
He sounded so … not himself! The war, she supposed. It did strange things to people.
‘I mean – I really like you, Mary.’ Abruptly he reached for her hand.
‘Laurence, stop it, do!’ She disengaged herself. ‘Whatever’s got into you?’
‘What do you think?’ he asked, his gaze burning down into hers, startling her with its intensity. ‘Have you no idea how I feel? Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too!’
She shook her head and stepped back.
‘Laurence, you’ve got this wrong! John—’
‘Ah, John!’ His eyes were full of pain.
‘I’m married, Laurence. You know that.’ She’d continued seeing other men all the time John had been away, but she’d always been faithful. She’d had no idea Laurence had been harbouring such wild imaginings.
‘We’re lonely, Laurence! You’re hundreds of miles from home, while I’m stuck here, my husband the Lord alone knows where.
‘Us – this – it’s only ever been for companionship! What gave you leave to think otherwise?’
Too late, he saw that she meant what she said, and stood in the middle of the road, regarding her wretchedly.
‘What a fool I’ve been. I’ve embarrassed you! I don’t know what came over me.’
All at once, he pulled his cap from his uniform pocket, rammed it on his head and began to march off back down the road, while Mary stared after him.
She didn’t want him to leave. Why throw everything away because of some silly misunderstanding?
‘Laurence! Wait!’
Suddenly she was careering after him, tripping in her best shoes. He stopped, and as she hurtled towards him, he put out his hand to steady her.
‘Laurence, please don’t go like this.’
‘I’ve made an idiot of myself. You don’t have to tell me. I had no right letting my feelings get the better of me.’
The words were simple and spoken from the heart, and her heart responded.
‘Please don’t think that.’ She stopped, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. ‘I want things to stay the same. What harm’s been done? Let’s forget it, shall we? Please don’t go like this.’
His hand dropped away from her arm, and he looked at her almost coldly.
‘Didn’t you understand a word? How can things be the same?’
What he said next went right through her.
‘Oh, hang it, Mary, I’ve fallen in love with you, and you expect me to keep everything casual?’ He shook his head. ‘It’s best to go. We needn’t see each other again.’
That was the last thing she wanted. Mary’s hand stole from her side to lie softly against his arm, as if that were where it belonged.
He was trembling, she could feel it through his uniform.
Suddenly he had moved closer, and in one single motion scooped her into his arms, his touch burning through her like fire. His lips crushed down on hers.
She sank against him, exchanging passion for passion, consumed by the most overwhelming emotion of her life.
Self preservation came to her aid at the last. With growing desperation, she tore her lips from his.
‘This isn’t what I want,’ she cried. ‘It’s not right, Laurence.’ She pushed him away with a force that shocked them both, and turned to walk away.
When she turned the key in the lock, there was a letter from John face up on the doormat.
Mary groaned, but she wasn’t even surprised. It was almost as if she’d guessed it would be there, this letter she’d been eagerly anticipating for days.
Wearily, she stopped to pick it up. In the sitting-room, she sat down, still in her coat, to read the single page.
My Darling Mary,
If I could only write how much I love you. I haven’t the words. You know words were never my strong point.
This blasted war! Here am I hundreds of miles away, thinking of you constantly, hating every second we’re apart. But if it weren’t for the war perhaps you’d never have married me?
I do so look forward to hearing from you. Will you write to me? Any old thing! Just let me know you’re there, you’re thinking of me now and then and you don’t regret our marriage too much.
Whatever happens, you must know our marriage was and is the single most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me …
Mary could read no more. Tears blurred her eyes.
Why had she responded like that to Laurence? What had happened? She was married to John! Had she gone and fallen in love at last, with the wrong man?
Guilt consumed her, a guilt that shook her in its intensity. She rocked backwards and forwards in the chair, sobbing bitterly, John’s crumpled letter clutched to her breast.
Maggie took one deep steadying breath, and pushed open the door to Tony’s Place. Outside a dim light lingered, but she was late; she’d been delayed.
There was a crowd in tonight, the last thing she needed. She already had the beginnings of a headache.
‘Where’ve you been?’ Tony signalled at once to the barman, came round the bar and gazed anxiously into her face, seeking his answer already.
She looked away. She still had no idea what she was going to tell him.
‘I wondered what had happened to you,’ he said, leading her to a table.
‘Sister Aspen, that’s what happened.’
There’d been an emergency. She could hardly refuse to stay and help, but it had meant she’d had to wait for a taxi in a queue a mile long.
He handed her a drink – he never got her mood wrong. But this time she left it, and looked at him.
It was just a normal night in the club, except that it wasn’t. Sometimes she thought things would never be normal again.
His eyes fastened on hers hungrily, and then suddenly sharpened, and she knew then that he knew her answer, the same moment she’d made the decision.
‘Tony, I’m sorry – it doesn’t feel right. I don’t know why exactly.’
How could she dress it up to sound any better? It was hurtful – she hated doing this to him.
‘Sometimes feelings can’t be put into words,’ she went on. ‘Perhaps it’s better they’re not.’
‘Try!’ he demanded.
‘I only know that you deserve much more. Someone who can love you properly. I suppose. That’s not me – I wish it was.’
How wretched she was making him! Her hand reached for his, but he snatched his away as if her touch would have burned him.
‘You don’t love me.’
‘I do, only – not enough.’
‘How do you know if you won’t even try?’ For the first time, there was anger in his voice, and she couldn’t really blame him.
‘I should have told you long ago. But I suppose I was hoping against hope—’ She stopped, unable to bear the sight of the hurt she’d just inflicted.
Listlessly, she turned to watch the dancers. People were having fun, oblivious of what was happening here in this quiet corner.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said almost to herself.
‘I can’t fight a losing battle, Maggie!’ His voice was bitter. ‘You can’t let go of Hughie. I don’t believe you ever will.’
Maggie’s eyes stung suddenly. He was right, of course. She’d wasted enough of Tony’s life already. She pushed back her chair, desperate to get away.
At that moment the music stopped, leaving a crescendo of happy voices mingling with the clink of glasses. People were simply taking the chance to relax and enjoy themselves.
But there was something else, too … She sank back into her chair and looked across at Tony.
There was a dull, indistinct rumble, swelling ever louder, until it grew into the all too recognisable throb of an engine.
Everything happened in a split second after that, and yet in slow time. There was a roar, then a rattling whine. The walls shook – the dance floor waved about as if it were water instead of wood.
‘Everyone down!’ It was Maggie’s own voice as she dived for cover, reaching desperately for Tony’s hand and dragging him after her.
‘Gran – Gran! Whatever is it?’ Harry shot downstairs, and straight into Daisy’s open arms. She clasped him to her thankfully just as a second explosion resounded up the valley, making the pair of them jump. Daisy had never heard a bomb blast before in her life, but she knew exactly what it was.
‘Oh, dear Lord!’ She clung to Harry, unsure who was holding up whom. ‘Don’t worry, pet. I’ve got you.’
‘Are we being bombed?’ Holly rushed down, fastening the tie on her dressing gown. Her face under the hall light was pale with shock.
A third, more muffled explosion came, proving her fears all too true, and prompting Daisy into action.
‘Under the stairs!’ she ordered, pushing them roughly towards the cubby-hole.
‘I’m not going in there!’ Holly declared hotly.
‘You’ll go where it’s safe,’ Daisy snapped, her voice harsh with worry. ‘And don’t you dare move until I get back!’
She thrust them both in, still protesting, and slammed the door behind them, blessing the morning she and Maggie had spent emptying the cupboard. Not that they’d ever thought to use it in a million years!
She turned and ran through the hall, her heart pounding against her ribs.
They’d seen what was happening in London, in Birmingham and Coventry, even. Had they thought they were immune from Hitler and his blasted Luftwaffe?
She fumbled with the lock on the front door, throwing it open at last, and rushed outside.
What she saw took her breath away. Castle Maine was on fire.
She stopped and steadied herself, concentrating on the dull, unnatural light pulsing out against the growing darkness in the heart of the valley. There was something wrong with the skyline.
Where was the factory chimney?
The factory chimney had gone, as if a giant hand had obliterated it. Had the factory gone up, and all the poor souls inside it?
The siren sounded at last, shattering the air, rising up the valley towards her.
Her eyes followed a line towards a more terrible glow, burning orange. At the end of the High Street, that might be.
One thought followed hot upon another, and Daisy’s hand flew to her face.
Tony’s Place! Dear Lord, Maggie had gone to Tony’s! And Tony’s was on fire …