Christmas saw Kathie taking on yet another job which had always been Den’s: while the children were walking Fudge on the common she caught one of the chickens then, with her eyes tightly closed, she gripped its neck and with one swift movement stretched and twisted it, hearing the click as the bone broke. Her hands were clammy, she felt slightly sick as she looked down at the bird. It twitched and fluttered as if it still had the life she had taken from it. Then taking it to the shed she hung it on a hook in the ceiling. Later that evening she brought it indoors to pluck and dress it, feeling better as it took on the shape of ‘Christmas dinner’.
Another Westways tradition was to play a gramophone record she and Dennis had bought the first year after they were married. Custom had it that the first hearing was at teatime on the 24th, following the Kings College Choir from Cambridge on the wireless. Kathie wound up the old gramophone, fitted a new needle and the cottage was filled with the sound of carols; the tone was poor, the recording old and scratchy, but the festival had started! Beth listened in wonder; the spirit of Christmas was all around her. It was the first time she had heard a carol, so Jess was able to show off her superior knowledge and ‘la-la’ the tune even if she’d forgotten the words. It was just coming to the end, the sound of ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ reverberating through the cottage, when there was a knock at the front door.
Kathie opened it to find Bruce Meredith in the porch. He was holding a parcel not very elegantly wrapped in a sheet of garish paper she recognized as coming from the village stores, and held together more by luck than by the yellow ribbon tied around it.
‘I’ve just done the unforgivable,’ he greeted her. ‘I’ve climbed over the gate for a short cut. Oliver Marley left this with me, with the request to bring it to you and the girls on Christmas Eve. My word, but don’t you sound Christmassy!’
‘Tradition has to be upheld, war or no war. Won’t you come in? That was very kind of Ollie. Let’s drop it off in the sitting room so that the girls won’t see it until the morning. When is his mother moving down from London?’
‘The first week in January, I believe.’
She hid the package under a cushion on the sofa just as Jess ran from the warm room.
‘Mum, it’s still going round and round. Can you put it on again so Beth can learn the songs?’
‘Jess, where are your manners? Say hello to Mr Meredith and perhaps I’ll see what I can do.’
So it was that a minute or two later she and Bruce were alone in the seldom used sitting room where the fire was laid ready to be lit the next morning while, from the warm room came the haunting sound of the treble voices of the boys of Winchester Cathedral choir.
‘Have you staff at the hall to prepare your meal tomorrow?’
‘I may go to the lodge. It depends how things are with Elspeth, my wife.’
That a wife was the reason for his frequent visits to the lodge had never entered her head.
‘Your wife?’ She spoke before she could stop herself. If he was so secretive about his wife perhaps it was tactless to ask about her. ‘I didn’t know you were married.’
‘Indeed I am. I know you’re busy now, but when the holidays are over perhaps you would allow me to take you to visit her.’ His reply went no way towards explaining why he had never previously spoken of her. And yet why should he? Kathie asked herself. They were comparative strangers, why should he have felt impelled to talk of his marriage? And yet there was something strange about keeping his domestic life so separate from his position at the hall. After a few seconds’ hesitation, he went on, ‘We were married nearly seventeen years ago, she was just twenty and the loveliest creature you could see, and with a nature to match.’
‘Is she ill?’ Kathie asked tentatively. There was something unnatural in the way he spoke of her, ‘she was’ not ‘she is’. At thirty-seven, or thereabouts, she might have lost the innocent beauty of those early days, but changes come so gradually they are scarcely perceptible in someone you love.
He nodded. ‘We had a happy year. There was only one problem: her mother’s deteriorating mental state, even though she was only in her forties. Then my father-in-law had a huge stroke and died within hours. It tipped the scales. She was a lost soul. Each time we visited she had slipped further away. We think of dementia as belonging to old age, but she was a beautiful, middle-aged woman. As a child Elspeth had had a nanny and, when she outgrew the need, Nanny Giles stayed on in the house, a sort of companion helper for my mother-in-law. But it wasn’t many months after her husband’s sudden death that it became obvious she needed more care than Nanny Giles could give. She became violent, wild, her whole character changed. She would look at Elspeth, her own daughter, and have no idea who she was. And it was just about at the same time that Elspeth was thrown from her horse when we were riding. The injury was to her head. In hospital she was in a coma; no one thought she would come out of it.’ He looked at Kathie as if he had forgotten she was there as he let his mind slip back down the years. She read anguish in his eyes as she held his gaze.
‘Go on,’ she whispered. ‘Elspeth came out of the coma?’
‘Do you believe in prayer? I prayed. God, how I prayed. First as she lay helpless, I prayed that she would wake and come back to me. She woke but she was lost to me, lost to everyone. Their doctor said it was in the family, for three generations the strain of dementia had been passed. The fall, the brain damage, perhaps they only speeded up what would ultimately have happened. In body and in spirit she was the loveliest person I’d ever known, and for a year or so we had shared complete happiness. On the first of January it will be sixteen years since the accident. In the beginning I watched for some sign of recognition. I was consumed by terror and misery. My prayer wasn’t answered in the way I wanted. And yet, Kathie –’ for the first time he called her by her Christian name, neither of them so much as noticing – ‘some sort of strength came, strength to face what our future was to be.’
‘And now?’ She was frightened of what he’d tell her.
‘I don’t know. She smiles at me; when I sit with her she never pulls away when I take her hand. Sometimes if I say something she will repeat a word or two. Whether she knows who I am, who she is, I don’t know. Her manner is as gentle and sweet as it always was. I don’t know –’ he ran his hand through his hair, his tight control threatening to break – ‘I don’t know. If I didn’t see her each day, would she notice?’
Kathie put out a hand and laid it on his arm. They were little more than strangers and yet she was moved beyond words.
‘Perhaps your prayers have been answered. Perhaps the answer is there in her contentment.’
‘I try to believe that. She is like a contented baby, warm, well fed and loved. It breaks my heart to see her and yet I am thankful and – can you understand this, I wonder? – sometimes just sitting with her, feeling her hand holding mine with such trust, some of that peace and contentment rubs off onto me. Is that crazy?’
Kathie shook her head. ‘I think it’s beautiful; it’s a sort of pure, honest love that’s not tainted by the mess of the world.’
He nodded.
‘That about says just what she is: pure, untainted by the mess of the world. She has no visitors, but if you could spare the time I would be grateful. Perhaps she won’t even notice that you are from outside her normal world but, if she does, surely it would be good for her.’
‘Of course I’ll come. The girls start back to school before you do, I expect, so the first day of their term I’ll come with you to the lodge. Does Elspeth get taken for walks? If she isn’t frightened off because I’m strange to her, I was thinking perhaps she could be brought down to Westways. There’s something very, very . . .’ She hesitated, groping for the right word. ‘Sort of full of goodness about outside work, nurturing plants.’
He gazed at her steadily and for a moment she was disconcerted by his unfathomable expression.
‘How could she be frightened off? My belief, indeed my hope and my reason for suggesting you let me take you to her, is that because she isn’t like the rest of us, she will see beyond an unfamiliar stranger and know you for the person you are.’
‘Mum!’ Jessie called as she rushed into the room, ‘come quick, Mum. It’s gone all funny.’
Kathie listened. ‘. . . bleak midwinter, stormy winds did . . . bleak midwinter, stormy winds did . . .’
‘Nothing serious, love. The needle is stuck. I’ll do it.’
‘Didn’t I tell you, Beth? Mum knows what’s happened; she’s coming to put it right.’
Jess climbed on a chair so that she could see Kathie lightly touch the head of the gramophone, setting the stormy winds on their way. If it happened again she would be able to do it herself, she decided. There was much of her mother in Jess; she wasn’t prepared to be beaten.
Those days of Christmas and New Year needed every ounce of Kathie’s strength of character. Her salvation came from the two little girls and her determination to give them happy and lasting memories.
They returned to school on the first Thursday in January and so at mid-morning of that day Bruce called for her and together they walked up the hill to the main gate of the hall. Another morning and the earth might be rock hard and white with frost, but that Thursday the air was soft and the birds seemed to believe nature’s call of spring had arrived. As soon as Kathie had set Sally and Sarah to work she had gone indoors to dress for her outing. Her wardrobe held nothing to inspire her, nothing except her ‘outfit’ so, smiling to herself as she remembered the last time she had worn it, she had taken it off its hanger. January demanded a thick jumper under the jacket.
Immediately, Bruce recognized the effort she had made.
‘You look extremely smart,’ he said, a twinkle in his eyes as he raised his brows.
Just weeks ago Kathie would have been annoyed and embarrassed. Now, though, she surprised herself by laughing.
‘I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. I did make a supreme effort when I came to the hall to take you down a peg or two. Today is different. I put on what we call my outfit because I wanted to do my best for Elspeth.’
‘You look delightful, then and now. But, if I’m honest, I prefer you in those ghastly clown-like trousers and wellington boots.’
‘Hardly the right attire for going a-visiting.’
‘Will she so much as notice? Perhaps the idea of taking you there is crazy, but there seems to be a magic healing power in Westways – and it must stem from you. You worked something of a miracle with young Marley; and have you any idea what it has meant to me to be accepted in your home?’
This time his remark deprived her of words; she could respond to playful banter, but there was a depth of seriousness in his voice that made her uneasy. It was a relief when he held open the wrought iron gate of the hall and, opening the door of the lodge with his key, ushered her inside.
‘Look, Elspeth my pet,’ Nanny Giles said to her charge as Bruce and Kathie came into the sitting room, ‘here’s Mr Bruce and he’s brought you a visitor.’
The woman seated on the sofa in front of the fire nodded, her mouth opening in a smile. Kathie couldn’t let herself look towards Bruce; she was moved with sympathy that physically ached.
‘Hello my dear,’ he said, stooping to kiss his wife’s forehead as he sat down by her side and indicated to Kathie to take the nearby armchair. His words brought a nod of Elspeth’s head, in fact more than a nod, it continued at the same momentum as she looked past him to Kathie.
‘I live just down the road,’ Kathie said. ‘Bruce and I walked here together. It’s such a perfect morning. Just look at that glorious blue sky.’ She pointed to the window and was rewarded by Elspeth turning her nodding head to admire the day. ‘Where I live we have a field full of things we grow – vegetables, I mean. Perhaps you would like to come and see me when you and Nanny go for a walk?’ She addressed the invitation to Elspeth, but looked to Nanny Giles for approval.
‘Why now, Elspeth my pet, wouldn’t that be just champion.’
But Elspeth’s attention was lost. As Bruce had sat by her, so he had automatically taken her hand feeling her fingers entwine themselves with his. Kathie tried not to look at them as he raised their clasped hands to move against his cheek. Make her show some sort of response, she begged silently, surprising herself that it should matter so much to her. She hardly knew him at all and his poor ‘lost’ wife was a complete stranger, but she couldn’t bear to remember how he had exposed his heart to her when he’d talked on Christmas Eve. We’re so lucky, Den and me. Even though he’s away we are never separated, not as these two are as they sit holding hands. What sort of hell has Bruce lived through during the years that have brought them to this?
Ten minutes later she and Bruce were on their way back down the hill. Their previous easy bantering conversation had gone and yet neither of them was ready to talk about the still beautiful, but ‘empty’ woman they had just left.
That same afternoon while Kathie was putting every ounce of her energy into turning the soil which had been ploughed in her first effort to master the motorized digger, Elspeth and Nanny Giles arrived. Nothing could ever really break through the fog that was Elspeth’s mind, but her first visit to Westways came nearer than anything had for a very long time. She must have been aware of her surroundings, for when the nurse tried to lead her to the gate she pulled back, not wanting to leave.
‘Nice warm fire at home, my pet,’ the nurse said encouragingly. ‘Give Nanny your hand like a good girl.’
The good girl let her hand be taken, she walked by the nurse’s side, but time and again she turned her head to look at what they were leaving.
‘Poor woman,’ Sarah said as she and Sally watched the couple depart. ‘Gosh, but doesn’t it make you count your blessings when you think of your own family. I bet she’s not as old as our mums are.’
‘Why do you reckon he married her?’ Sally wondered. ‘I bet back in those days, when they got hitched, I mean, I bet he was a real dish.’
‘And so must she have been. She’s good looking now, except that her face is sort of blank. Fancy, he keeps her there in the lodge and no one, not even the locals who come in to the pub, chaps who never miss a trick, none of them have an inkling that the headmaster has a wife. Don’t let’s say anything, Sal. Be rotten for him to have the village talking.’ It wasn’t said lightly. Sarah’s conscience had to battle, for it would have been a great talking point in the bar. ‘I expect they gossip just as much at that chapel your dad’s so tied up with as they do in the pubs.’
‘I expect they do. But they might want to show Mr What’s-his-name, her husband, that they were sorry for him.’
‘Bet he’d hate that. Well, anyway, I know I would if I were in his shoes. Have you filled your box of parsnips yet? My turnips are about ready. It’d save Mrs Hawthorne having to stop the digging if we suggested taking the old cart to the village. What do you say?’
So, ten minutes or so later the old hand cart was loaded with the day’s delivery and they set off to the village. In the four months they had been at Westways they had forgotten all about looking for work in more comfortable surroundings and relished the challenge of keeping the all-female market garden as productive as it ever had been.
That afternoon was the first of Elspeth’s frequent visits. It became an almost daily habit if the weather was fine. There was no doubt she enjoyed walking between the rows of vegetables, the smile never leaving her face. But as to recognition, it was as if each visit was her first.
It was the week following Kathie’s visit to the lodge, in the early hours of Wednesday morning when Kathie half woke. She’d gone to sleep indulging the same picture in her mind as she so often did: the sound of familiar footsteps and she would look out of the window and see Den. So, half stirring, she knew she must have been dreaming when she heard someone coming up the garden path. But hark, what was that click? No, it must have been imagination; there was no other sound. Lying perfectly still, she strained her ears to listen She climbed out of bed and switched on the light, only then remembering to close the heavy blackout curtains.
That’s when, almost frightened to death, she heard the bedroom door open.
This was no dream. Den was home. Wordlessly they moved to each other. His arms were strong, his mouth on hers banishing everything from her mind except pure joy. Neither the scratchy material of his uniform nor its unpleasantly disinfectant smell could mar the moment.
‘Fourteen days,’ he whispered, ‘fourteen whole days.’
‘I would have waited up. Oh Den, you’re real. I’ve dreamt it so often; but this isn’t a dream. We’ll creep downstairs and I’ll find you some food.’
‘No, we’ll just stay here. Is Jess OK?’
She nodded, unbuttoning his battledress top.
‘Just wait till she sees you! And Beth. Beth’s a dear.’
His only answer to that was a grunt that spoke as clearly as any words.
‘Let’s get to bed. I want to hear about everything,’ he said, speaking in a whisper and starting to take off his uniform. ‘Hell of a journey. Crowded like sardines on the train; I sat on my kitbag in the corridor right from Paddington to Exeter. Blinds down, only that dim blue light lost in a fog of cigarette smoke. They’ve cut the evening country route bus or I would have been home hours ago. Got the local train to Deremouth. I thought, hang the expense, I’ll get the station cab. But there wasn’t one.’
‘Who brought you?’
‘Shank’s pony. Walked the whole ruddy way. Damned war!’ Then, his tone changing as with his hands on her shoulders he held her at arm’s-length, looking at her, ‘Kathie, oh Kathie, you don’t know what it’s like to come home. Everything I want is here.’ He looked remarkably manly despite being stripped to his army issue vest and underpants which defied any man other than one with a perfect physique to appear attractive and which smelt of the same disinfectant as his battledress.
Surprising herself as much as she surprised him, she tore off her nightgown as he divested himself of the offending undergarments. How often she’d dreamed of this; now he was here, he was real. She raised her hand to his naked shoulder. For four months while he’d gone through initial training he’d had no leave, they had come no nearer than voices on the telephone; surely he was as hungry for love as she was herself.
‘Kathie, oh God, Kathie, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you – you, Jess, everything here. I’ll turn the light out while you pull those beastly curtains back.’
A minute later, despite it being mid-January, he pushed the bottom window up and leant far out taking in great gulps of the crisp, night air.
‘Sniff the air, Kathie. Home. Tomorrow you’ll know what it’s like to have a man out there working.’
She came to stand behind him, holding her arms around him.
‘Tonight I want to know what it’s like to have that man in here with me.’
Laughing softly he turned back into the room and drew her into his arms.
‘Fourteen whole days – and fourteen whole nights.’ Then, after a brief pause and speaking softly, he added. ‘Kathie, the waiting’s over. This is embarkation leave.’
‘No,’ she whispered in disbelief, ‘not so soon. This is the first leave you’ve had. They can’t send you abroad—’
His mouth covered hers, then still clinging to each other and she walking backwards, they moved towards the bed. That night their emotions were heightened by the thought of a separation so much more final than a posting to a camp somewhere in the same country. The future loomed before them, unknown and unimaginable. Only the present was real, familiar and precious.
Jess was beside herself with excitement when it was Dennis who woke her next morning. Standing up in bed she hurled herself into his open arms.
‘Dad’s come home. Look Beth, this is Dad.’
‘Let’s look at you, kiddo. My word, but you’ve grown. It must be because you’re six.’
Jess giggled, nuzzling her face against his neck.
‘Silly Dad. Dad, this is Beth. She’s never had a dad of her own, so she’s going to share with me. Stand up Beth; come and let’s all have a squeeze together.’ Said with such certainty that the other two would be as pleased as she was with the situation, that she was at a loss to understand why neither of them made a move.
‘Hello, Beth.’ Den forced a note of heartiness into his voice. ‘You’re settling in, are you? I expect you’re like me, looking forward to the day this bl—’ He quickly substituted a different adjective from the one that came naturally to his lips. ‘Blessed war is over and we can all get back home.’
Beth shook her head. ‘I like being here with Auntie Kathie and Jess.’
‘And Fudge,’ Jess threw in for good measure. ‘Did Fudge bark when you got here, Dad?’
‘I remembered in time and left my boots in the porch. He seems a nice enough puppy.’
Jess and Beth exchanged a look of satisfaction. At the back of their minds and never put into words had been the fear that he might say there was too much to do at Westways to keep a dog.
The breakfast fare was the same as any other morning: a bowl of porridge, a boiled egg, then toast and either jam or marmalade from the jar of preserves made before there was any thought of shortages. Yet, it struck Kathie that there was an underlying feeling of festivity. Only three weeks ago it had been Christmas, a time when she had been determined the house would be filled with that elusive spirit of joy; but being determined was a far cry from letting it happen naturally as it did that morning.
‘You know what, Dad?’ Jess held her stubby first finger up in the way that told them she had had a bright idea. ‘Beth can’t call you Dad if she calls Mum, Auntie Kathie. So, tell you what, Beth – you call him Uncle Den. OK? OK Dad?’
Looking uncertain Beth nodded. Kathie had come to know her well and she recognized just how much the little girl wanted a sign of approval.
‘That’s a good idea, Jess love,’ she spoke before Dennis even had a chance to make a grunt of acceptance. He knew he was being unfair, but it was beyond him to stamp out his niggling resentment that a fourth person at their table spoilt the image he cherished.
The morning ritual got back on track. The children were sent to rinse their hands after their meal, and then put on their coats, berets and scarves. Then, as every other day, at exactly twenty-five to nine they promised Fudge a walked as soon as they got home and were off to school. From the window of the kitchen extension Den and Kathie watched them scurrying along the lane, their pace never slackening despite the fact they were obviously deep in conversation.
‘She’s a great kid,’ Den mused. ‘The other one seems a bit slow.’
‘Slow she most certainly isn’t. In four months she has come on in leaps and bounds. She didn’t even know her letters—’
‘There you are then! It must be hard for teachers to have backward kids put in their classes. But Jess will help her.’
‘She reads as well as Jess does now and writes well too. She’d had no chance, poor mite. She and Jess are such – such mates.’
‘While you wash these dishes I’ll take this tripe-hound up to the common. Then, just think, Kathie, a whole day out there getting my hands dirty in God’s good earth.’
A whole day, then there would be another and another, but so soon they would all melt away. To shake off the devil of gloom and fear that threatened, she planted a quick kiss on his cheek and started to stack the plates. No shadow must be allowed to fall over the gift of a fourteen-day leave – not yet, not until the dreaded day when he had to put on that smelly uniform, not until all this was no more than a memory they must cling to until he came home from this nameless ‘overseas’, home not just for leave but to slip back into the life he loved.
By the time Sally and Sarah leant their bikes against the shed just as the clock on the stable at the hall struck nine, Fudge had answered the call of nature and immediately been made to retrace his steps. Den was tinkering with the motorized digger and an oil can, and Kathie was pulling on her wellington boots. The working day at Westways had started.
On their way to school the girls had had to pass the greengrocer’s shop where Jack Hopkins was bringing his boxes of vegetables to prop against a frame he had made for the purpose outside the front window.
‘D’you know what, Mr Hopkins? No, course you can’t do. My dad has come home. He’s home for a whole two weeks. I bet he’ll bring the veg himself today.’
‘Well, Jessie m’dear, that’s a bit of good news if ever I heard one.’
Jess nodded her head in a way that was almost regal, believing it conveyed to him how grown up she was. Then tugging at Beth’s hand she started to run. ‘Come on, Beth, or we’ll be late. Don’t ’spect we’d be grumbled at, though, not when we told them about Dad.’
Jack Hopkins had been established at the greengrocery shop before Dennis turned his first sod of earth at Westways, and after twenty years he still thought of him as the young man he had been, just home from that other war. So, an hour or so later he called up the stairs to his wife, ‘Any chance you can hold the fort here for half an hour or so, Mabs, I hear young Dennis Hawthorne has got some leave. I’d like just to have the chance to shake him by the hand and ask him how he’s been doing.’
‘Bet you he’ll be here with the veg this afternoon. Can’t see him making a holiday of a bit of leave.’
‘Ah, I dare say he’ll bring the stuff. But there are usually people to be served at that time of day; there would be no chance for a chat. He’s got nothing but women for company at his garden. That little lass of his ought to have been a boy, darned if she didn’t. Got the makings of a real little tomboy if ever a child had.’
‘I’ll see to the customers. Off you go.’
‘I’ll go on my grid, so I shan’t be above half an hour or so.’
If Dennis had been living at home when Fudge had joined the family, he would have been more careful. For the first few days when the children set off for school Kathie had reminded them to be sure the gate was properly fastened, just as she always reminded Nanny Giles. But all of them were careful and Fudge spent most of his time with his nose in the mesh of the netting that kept him shut away from the growing area.
‘There’s Mr Hopkins from the veg shop coming up the path,’ Sarah called to Dennis. ‘I bet word has got round already that you’re home. Shall I let him through?’
So a minute or two later, sitting on a plank held between two upturned empty oil drums, the two men were soon lost in conversation. As Dennis listened to the familiar voice he thought as he had a hundred times in these last few hours just how much all this meant to him – the cottage, the smell of the earth, the challenge that had become part of his life, Kathie, Jess, all of it. If he felt that these things were the reason for his fighting, then there was no dragon he wouldn’t have challenged. But what had the way he had spent the last months got to do with the things that really mattered? He held his packet of Gold Flake for Jack Hopkins to take one, then put one between his own lips and felt for his matches.
‘Your young Jess stopped on her way to school and told me you were here. Growing up fast is Jess. That skinny little evacuee kid hangs on her every word; I’ve watched them together. Your little lassie is a real leader.’
‘Being an only one, I dare say she’s grown up faster than some. I hope always being with Beth won’t hold her back.’ The words were out before he could stop himself.
‘Likely it’ll work the other way round. No sharper knife in the drawer than your Jessie. I shouldn’t be smoking your fags. They’re getting as hard to find as gold dust, and here we are only four months into the war. What do you reckon? Do you think we’re going to beat bloody Adolf in quick time? Me, I’m frightened to look to the future.’
‘God knows how long it’ll take. But rest assured we’ll not give up till we’ve got him grovelling. I’m just thankful I’m being sent overseas at the end of my fourteen days, at last I’m going to have a chance to do what I’ve been training for.’
‘One war is enough for any man and you did your bit last time round.’
‘It was the silly sods who carved up the peace that caused much of the trouble.’
Puffing peacefully at their cigarettes the two men believed theirs was the wisdom. So the minutes passed until Jack Hopkins’ conscience reminded him he had a business to run. Dennis walked with him to the gate and even then they seemed loath to put an end to the visit, but at last the greengrocer pedalled off down the lane while Den came back to pick up the thread of his morning’s work.
‘Where’s Fudge?’ Kathie asked as she ladled the lunchtime soup from the saucepan.
‘What does he usually do when you’re working?’ Den asked. ‘The last I saw of him he walked off in a huff because I wouldn’t let him follow me through that gate you put up in that “Charlie Harvey” net fence you ladies erected. And, by the way, that gate needs stronger hinges than those little things you put on it. I’ll get some when I take the stuff into Hopkins later on.’ He was looking forward to the afternoon trip to the village; often enough he’d imagined it. New to the task of keeping an eye on the puppy, he didn’t consider it any cause for concern that the little creature wasn’t watching Kathie’s every movement as she passed soup bowls to Sally and Sarah. In truth he was put out by the fact that the midday break he and Kathie had always shared by themselves were invaded, as he thought of it, by a couple of girls from the village.
‘I’ll take a look outside for him,’ Sally said, getting up from the table.
‘And I’ll check upstairs,’ Kathie answered.
Den laughed as he took a spoonful of vegetable soup. ‘Leave him be,’ he said. ‘Once he smells food he’ll show up.’
‘You’re sure you shut the gate, Den?’
‘I told you. That’s when he sloped off in a huff. I’ve dreamt of your soup for months, Kathie, I’m not having it spoilt by a puppy with the sulks.’
But Kathie was gone. She hadn’t been talking about the gate in the netting fence, she had meant the one onto the lane. As soon as she saw it was open she knew Fudge had escaped. He must have gone to the common, that’s where the girls always took him. So she turned left and hurried along the narrowing track, calling his name as she went.
Once on the common the calling went on, ‘Fudge! Come on, boy! Fudge!’ Please don’t let him be lost; this is the only place he knows his way to. ‘Fudge!’
Perhaps he’d got into the wood of the hall, he could easily have got between the wooden bars of the gate. The pupils had returned the previous day, but they would have been in class. ‘Fudge!’ But she called more quietly, sure that if he was there he would hear her walking on the carpet of dead leaves and come to her. She stood still and listened, hoping to rear a rustle in the leaves and see him bounding towards her. Yes, listen!
‘Kathie! What are you doing here all by yourself? Is everything all right?’
In her relief at hearing the concern in his voice, she turned to Bruce and told him the story.
‘We’re all used to making sure the gate is latched properly, but you see Den has come on leave.’
‘Your husband? That’s wonderful. I hope I get a chance to meet him. These grounds are vast, Kathie. Before the boys are excused from the dining room I’ll tell them about Fudge. Some of the older ones know him, of course. They have half an hour free time before afternoon classes, so they’ll have a good hunt.’
‘He must have come this way. The girls always take him to the common so he wouldn’t have gone towards the village.’
‘When you get home you may find he’s arrived first. Dogs have an instinct for retracing their steps.’
She nodded. Talking to him had chased away the vision of having to break it to the girls that Fudge was lost.
It occurred to her that it was a strange place for them to meet in the middle of a school day. ‘I was trespassing,’ she said, her eyes seeming to smile as she asked, ‘but what was the headmaster doing lurking in the woods?’
‘Guilty as charged,’ he laughed. ‘I often escape down here. The perfect place for a quiet cigarette and solitude.’
‘Then along I come and spoil it all.’
He shook his head. ‘On the contrary. I often lean on that gate and look along the lane towards Westways. The house is out of sight, but I can just see the bottom part of your land and I like to imagine you out there.’
Surely it was the sort of remark any friend might make and yet she found herself looking anywhere rather than meet his gaze.
‘Imagine the girls and me working away while you’re skiving with nothing better to do than lean on the gate, smoking,’ she bantered.
‘It must be a great relief to you to have your husband home.’
She nodded. ‘It’s embarkation leave.’ There! She’d actually made herself put it into words. So far they hadn’t even told Jess and, although there was no sense in it, she had felt that as long as it wasn’t spoken she could hold it off. ‘Fourteen days. Don’t know where he’ll be sent. Perhaps it won’t be France. He should never have joined the Terriers, he’s too old to get called up.’
Hearing the fear in her voice, Bruce’s first feeling was that her husband was a lucky man: imagine if it were he just home for fourteen days embarkation leave. What difference would it make to anyone if he went to war? He thought of Elspeth, her never failing smile, the emptiness in her eyes.
‘It’s because of men like that, men who choose to serve even though they wouldn’t have been called, that we shall win this war. You must be very proud.’ Then, with a shrug that seemed to imply his uselessness, he continued, ‘And me, with time on my hands to lean on a five-bar gate listening to the silence.’
‘I must go and see if Fudge has come home. And thanks, Bruce, for saying you’d get the boys to look in the grounds.’
He went with her to the gate ready to give her a hand as she climbed over, but she was nimble and it presented no problem.
‘If we find him, I’ll bring him home this afternoon. If we don’t I’d like to look in after school to make sure you’ve got him back – and to meet your husband.’
Kathie arrived home to find no sign of the puppy. The two girls returned to work, but their hearts weren’t it in. Fudge had wormed his way into everyone’s affection and at the back of all their minds was the thought that before four o’clock Jess and Beth would be home.
‘It was my fault, I couldn’t have thought to shut it after I stood outside talking to Jack Hopkins,’ Den said as he carried the tray of bowls to the kitchen. No one had had any appetite; even he who had thought so often of Kathie’s cauldron of home-made vegetable soup, had found it was spoilt by his feeling of guilt. It was that guilt which put the bluster in his voice as he went on, ‘When we find him I must see there is a notice on the gate reminding people to latch it properly. I wonder you hadn’t had the forethought to do that from the start – there are always callers, the postman, the milkman, anyone might leave it open if they’re not reminded.’
‘Rubbish! People don’t need reminding to close gates behind them.’ Her tone carried criticism. Would they have spoken to each other like this six months ago? They weren’t the only couple whose roles had been changed by the war. He was pulled in two directions: partly he was proud – and relieved – at the capable way Kathie was running Westways; but he harboured an underlying feeling of resentment of her cheerful efficiency. And her sentiments were as undecided as his: it was wonderful to have him home but there was something in his manner as he inspected how she, Sally and Sarah had been caring for ‘his’ market garden that she found patronizing. For a moment silence hung between them.
It was his sense of guilt that made him pump up the tyres of his bicycle and set off to ride round the village looking for a sign of the escapee. Fudge was a pretty puppy, wasn’t it quite likely that someone had seen him out without a collar and had taken a fancy to him. The village was small, he went a mile or so on along the Deremouth road, then in the other direction on the road towards Exeter. After more than an hour he returned home hoping, just as Kathie had earlier, that Fudge would be there before him.
The village school was in Highbury Lane, a turning off the main street just past the shops. Most of the houses were beyond the turning, so as the children bundled out into the freedom of the afternoon the majority went back to the corner then turned to the right. Two or three lived above the shops, but Jess and Beth were the only ones to head towards the lane to the common. On that afternoon, just as they usually did, they climbed a stile into a meadow belonging to Merrydown Farm. Some of the grazing cows looked up at them in an uninterested way as they kept to the edge of the grass before climbing another stile into a cutting that took them to the village street between Jack Hopkins’ greengrocery store and the fish and chip shop. They never dawdled, especially since the advent of Fudge who would be waiting for his walk before it got too near dusk for them to be allowed to take him.
Heads together they chattered as they scurried along, then Beth suddenly noticed something that cut her off mid-sentence.
‘Look Jess! Over the road, just coming under the gate of Colebrook Field!’
‘It’s Fudge!’
The bus from Deremouth was stationary as the local passengers climbed out by the fish and chip shop so, calling Fudge, Jess ran onto the road just behind it. She had been taught to look both ways before crossing a road and she made sure there was nothing following after the bus.
‘Fudge, come on Fudge,’ she yelled, rushing towards him just as he heard her voice and bounded to meet her. Never cross a road in front of a parked car, she had been told, in case there’s something coming. But in her excitement at seeing the little dog she forgot to look to the left. The driver of the white van stamped hard on his brake pedal; there was a screech of tyres, a thud, then a deadly hush.
‘Poor little mite. Wretched dog out by itself. Don’t touch her, she must have broken bones. Lucky if it’s no worse than that. Oh dear God, someone’s little girl . . . The dog’s a goner, that’s for sure.’ Then noticing Beth: ‘Don’t hang about here, dear, just you run along home.’
Two minutes ago the street had been quiet, yet suddenly there was a crowd. Where do people come from, like a colony of ants on a drip of honey? Jack Hopkins himself pushed his way to the front of the group.
‘That’s the kiddie from the market garden. I was with her dad only this morning – home on embarkation leave. Someone run to the call box and ring for an ambulance, it’s no use any of us trying to move her.’ Then to the driver of the van who was leaning against the vehicle for support, he added, ‘Here, old man, let me give you a hand into my shop. You all right? My missus’ll give you a cup of tea. We’ll have to get the police along, but it wasn’t your fault, I’ll vouch for that. The kiddie just ran out without looking. When we get in the shop I’ll look up the number of the little one’s parents. Poor buggers. What a start to her dad’s leave.’
Beth half heard the remarks. She tried to push through the group so that she could reach Jess – Jess and Fudge.
‘Run along home, there’s a good girl,’ a woman said to her in an authoritative voice, ‘it’s no place for children.’ Others round her backed her remark. They meant kindly, but how could Beth ‘run along home’ and leave Jess lying hurt? Beth moved away from the group of spectators and out of sight in the cutting from the stile into the meadow. They’d said an ambulance would come; did that mean Jess would be taken to hospital? When Auntie Kathie got here it would start to get better and perhaps the men with the ambulance would say she could take Jess home. But those people had said that Fudge was a goner; that meant he had been killed. Beth pushed her small body against the hedge that bordered the cutting as if that way she would be invisible. But no one was interested in what had happened to her. As if they were watching a play unfold, they were anxiously awaiting the arrival of the next characters. Who would get there first? Would it be the ambulance or the child’s parents?
At Westways, with a hand that felt weak and clammy Kathie put down the telephone receiver. An accident outside Jack Hopkins’ shop! Jess hurt and an ambulance on its way!
‘Den,’ she called as she ran outside to find him. ‘Den!’ But her mouth was so dry it didn’t want to form the word. She found him loading the afternoon delivery into the van and somehow managed to tell him what she knew.
‘Get in the van. Leave everything. Christ! What was she doing crossing the road?’ He asked it with no hope of an answer for, after all, how would Kathie know?
‘She saw Fudge. Fudge has been killed.’ It was like living a nightmare. They didn’t speak again as the van raced down the lane at a speed that nearly threw them from their seats, and then took the right-hand turn with screeching tyres. Immediately they could see the gathered crowd and the stationary van. How had they managed to get an ambulance so quickly? Already it was there and the doors closed ready for its journey to Deremouth.
‘They’re taking her to hospital,’ Kathie made a supreme effort to speak clearly and with a confidence she was far from feeling.
‘We’ll follow it and get there at the same time. She’ll want us. Thank God I’m home. Bloody dog.’ What a moment for Kathie to realize that until he went away in the army she had probably never heard him swear; often on the phone it would be ‘bloody war’, ‘bloody army’ and now it was ‘bloody dog’. Poor little Fudge, such a bundle of love, now he was dead. If only they could turn back the clock and not leave the gate open, the girls would be home from school and taking him for a run on the common. She felt a sob catch her breath.
‘You should never have let them have the animal,’ Den’s voice cut across her thoughts. ‘Well at least we can get rid of that dreadful netting you and those girls put up. We shall be hours at the hospital, you know; you’ve not left anything cooking have you? If the poor kid has broken anything they will have to X-ray her and then set it.’
His words were a pointer to the future, a future with Jess at home to be cared for. Her confidence took a step towards recovery.
‘No, it was too early to be cooking. I even remembered to lock the door and call to the girls not to worry if we weren’t back when they went. I’m glad they aren’t ringing the bell on the ambulance; that would frighten her. I wish there was some way of letting her know we are right behind them.’
By that time they were crossing Picton Heath. It wasn’t far now to the main Exeter road where they would turn left until they reached a right turn to Deremouth railway station. Then down Station Hill and they would be at the hospital.
‘Sorry mister, you can’t leave the van there,’ someone called to Den as he pulled up by the side of the ambulance. ‘Only ambulances here. Drive on round to the side and you’ll find plenty of space.’
‘I must park here. It’s my daughter just going to be brought out of the ambulance.’
‘Sorry. The other ambulance will be back and there’s only room for the two. Go round the side and by the time you get back they’ll have your daughter inside.’
Kathie started to undo the door to get out, but Dennis stopped her.
‘Stay where you are! We’ll go in together.’
By the time they got rid of the van and ran back to the Casualty entrance, there was no sign of Jess. They expected to find her on the stretcher waiting for a doctor to see her, but there was only an elderly man with his arm in a sling.
‘Which way did they take the stretcher? Did you notice?’
‘Ah, that I did? Just a youngster so the men were saying. Down that corridor you’ll find someone. Is she your kiddie?’
‘Yes,’ Kathie answered. ‘She’ll be so frightened. We must find her.’
‘Don’t waste time talking,’ Den called as he hurried down the corridor.
The elderly patient, speaking more to himself than to Kathie who was already following Den, said, ‘Oh my dear, and here’s me moaning about a broken arm.’
Kathie told herself she had misheard him or misunderstood the implication behind the words. But a minute later the sister was ushering them into her room, her face solemn.
‘Sit down, both of you. Were neither of you with the child when the accident occurred?’
‘No,’ Kathie answered. ‘She has always come home from school alone. There are no roads to cross.’
‘Children are impetuous,’ was Sister’s opinion.
‘We want to see her. Please, let us see her. She’ll be so frightened.’ Kathie begged, suspecting that this sister valued efficiency above compassion.
‘It’s too late for fear; her life was over by the time she reached the hospital. In fact, even when it happened, I doubt if she felt fear or even shock. It must have been too sudden for her to have known what was happening; the injury to her head must immediately have knocked her unconscious. There were many other injuries, a post-mortem will identify the exact cause of death.’
‘No, no, she can’t be . . .’ But Kathie couldn’t even say the word.
She was held in the grip of a sensation such as she had never experienced. It was as if something of herself had been stripped from her. For a second she glanced at Dennis, aware of a nervous tic at the corner of his mouth, something she had never seen before. How his hands shook as he gripped the edge of the sister’s desk as if for support. She saw these things and yet she was removed from them. Jess . . . Jess can’t be gone. She knew she ought to reach out and cover Den’s hand with hers, but she couldn’t. Jess . . . the tiny baby gazing at her and sucking hard on her breast . . . the strong little girl always so anxious not to be looked on as a baby . . . Jess so proud of her ‘sponsibilities’ as they took care of each other. Westways without her, without that happy, determined voice . . . with no Jess there was nothing.
Kathie felt she was looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope.
Throughout it all, neither Kathie nor Dennis had given a thought to Beth who was waiting too far from the village street to see what was going on. The little girl was aware that things were happening – and then all sound faded into silence. She had pressed her body so far into the hedge that something prickly had got stuck in the material of her coat, a coat that used to belong to Jess until she grew out of it. Beth loved it; not so much for the coat itself as for feeling that it meant she was part of the family. Carefully unhooking the thorn, she cautiously moved towards the street. Everything was quiet, the van had gone, all the people had gone, and the place was deserted. She must go home, it wasn’t actually getting dark so much as there was a difference in the light. It was the hour when she and Jess would know they must hurry if Fudge was to have time for a game on the common. And that’s when she noticed him in the gutter on the other side of the road. They’d said he was dead, a goner; but he looked just like he did at home when he stretched out on the rug in front of the fire. Careful to look both ways before she stepped off the path, she went across to him.
‘Fudge! Come on, boy, wake up.’ But he wasn’t asleep; his eyes were wide open and his mouth too. Very gently she picked him up and cradling him to her set out for home. Sarah and Sally were still working, she could hear them talking as they hoed. So she made sure she shut the gate quietly and walked right round the cottage to get to the back door. It was locked. But, of course, Auntie Kathie and – and him – she couldn’t quite bring herself to think of him as Uncle Den – had gone to the hospital. They might be ages, for they wouldn’t want to come home until they could bring Jess.
There was a bucket outside the back door, so laying Fudge carefully on the ground she carried it to the front garden where she turned it upside down to make a seat, then she went back for the puppy. By that time it really was getting dark and she could hear the girls putting their tools away. In a minute they’d wheel their bicycles down the path and Beth’s instinct was to hide so that they wouldn’t ask questions about what had happened – and they wouldn’t put into words what she knew to be the truth: Fudge wasn’t going to wake up anymore. So she again moved her bucket, this time into the far corner of the porch and once more took up position with Fudge on her lap.
By the time she heard footsteps in the lane and then the click of the gate it was quite dark. But there had been no van. Who could be coming? Despite being shy, she had never been a cowardly child, but now she could feel her heart beating. Even leaning hard against the wall of the porch there was no escape.
‘He’s come home then,’ Bruce said as by the light of his pocket torch he saw them. ‘What are you doing out here with him?’
Through the horror of the last hours Beth hadn’t cried, but now in her relief at the sound of his familiar voice, the tears came. Hearing her, seeing the stillness of the puppy the truth dawned on him, or at least the partial truth.
‘’e’s a goner, that’s what they said. Don’t know how he got out; we shut the gate, honest we did. Was over the road when we were coming home from school.’ The relief of being held close to Bruce was almost too much to bear. ‘Jess gave him a call and quick as anything he ran to get to her, just like she did to him. Didn’t see it coming, the van, didn’t know cos the bus was in the way.’
‘And Jess?’ he asked gently.
‘Been took off to ’ospital. Aunt Kathie and – and him. Mr Hopkins, him from the veg shop, he was phoning to tell them so they could follow the ambulance. ’Spect that’s what they did. But I got sent off, so I hid up the cutting till everyone had gone. Then I found Fudge and brought ’im home.’
‘They’ve been gone a long time?’
She nodded. ‘Since just after school.’
Bruce felt in his pocket for a notepad. ‘Can you shine the torch for me so that I can write them a note, and then you can come back to the hall with me. We’ll find Oliver and you can have supper with him and the boys.’
‘What about Fudge? Please, I can’t leave Fudge all by himself. Me and Jess are in charge of him.’ Then with a huge and uncontrollable sob, she added, ‘Now he’s dead and Jess is hurt, I know she is. She just lay there. I heard people saying she must have got bones all broken. So it’s me what has to look to Fudge.’
‘Yes, of course, I understand that, Beth’ he answered her, speaking with the sort of respect in his voice he might use to the parents of his pupils. ‘We’ll walk the road way to the hall, it’s too dark in the wood. But if I carry Fudge for you, can you take charge of the torch. Make sure you shine it on the ground not upwards. Now, just aim it at my notebook and I’ll scribble a message to put through the letterbox for when they get home so that they won’t worry that you aren’t here waiting. If they don’t get home until really late you can stay at the hall for the night.’
‘But you only got boys at that school?’
‘We have a spare room, I promise you.’ The note written, he put it through the letterbox then took the small, stiff form of the puppy from her, resting it on his left forearm so that his right hand was free to take her small hand in his. His thoughts were in Deremouth with Kathie. Accident or illness, the anxiety is the same, but the suddenness of an accident seems to strip one of the ability to accept how a life can change in less than a minute. Sixteen years had gone by since Elspeth had been thrown, hitting her head on a milestone of all things. It had been a milestone in her life and in his too; it only took an event like this evening’s to bring back the anguish of those days. But he was being maudlin; perhaps once Jess regained consciousness she would have nothing worse than a broken leg or arm. She was a brave little girl; she would soon bounce back.
‘When we get to the hall, we’ll send for Oliver Marley. He’ll take you in to supper with the juniors. I expect you’re hungry, aren’t you?’
‘I ’spect I am. Ollie didn’t know Fudge very well cos of the Christmas school holiday, but when he saw him they really took to each other. What should I do about Fudge, Mr Meredith? I can’t keep him like he is. If he was a person he’d have a grave, wouldn’t he? But supposing he – not Fudge – I mean Jessie’s dad, suppose he says we’ve got to just put him in the bin like we do if there’s a dead bird or mouse or something? We can’t do that to Fudge.’
‘Of course we can’t. Fudge shall have a grave, I promise you. But first of all, when we get to the hall I’ll lay him in the old stable.’
‘It’s got a clock, the stable I mean, hasn’t it? When me and Jess go to the common Auntie Kathie always makes us listen for the clock to strike so we know it’s time to come home. ’Spect Fudge has heard it too. That’ll make him feel sort of safe, won’t it.’
Bruce tightened his hold on the small hand, moved by the child’s thinking.
From Deremouth to the turning into the lane to the common, neither Kathie nor Den spoke a word; they were cocooned in their own memories, frightened that to talk would strip them of moments that were their own, their own and Jessie’s. They’d been gone nearly four hours but time had ceased to have a meaning; four hours, four years, a lifetime, it was as if the past was stripped away and the future had no ray of hope. But as the van bumped over the ruts the outline of the cottage could be seen through the darkness and Dennis pulled up by the garden gate. That’s when for the first time in all those hours Kathie remembered Beth.
‘Beth! She must be so frightened.’ Hardly waiting for the van to stop, she threw open the door and stumbled out. This time she was the one to leave the gate open, the knowledge that it no longer mattered adding to her misery. She didn’t stop to analyse why it was that that was misery she could accept. Later she would remember and realize how dwelling on a lesser pain can help to make a greater one bearable. ‘Beth! Beth. We’re back. Where are you, Beth?’
While she went to the garden, Dennis found his key and went indoors. He didn’t switch on the light and in the darkness he seemed to hear Jess running down the stairs at the sound of his voice. ‘Jess,’ his throat contracted so that even a whisper was barely audible, ‘Jess, kiddo.’ He felt dizzy, and gripped the newel post. ‘Oh God, why Jess?’ He heard someone sobbing and realized it was him. He wanted just to get away, to be by himself. Outside darkness was his friend; out here he could feel she was close.
‘Beth’s not here,’ Kathie said as she came into the dark house. ‘Beth isn’t here. Den, where are you?’ Then as she closed the front door and switched on the light she saw the piece of paper. Relief flooded through her, or as near to relief as she was capable of feeling. It was a quarter to eight, she must phone Bruce. He would ask her how badly Jess had been hurt, she would tell him. She would have to hear herself say it. For a moment she stood with her hand on the instrument trying to force herself to speak to him. It was kind of him to have looked after Beth; he was a good friend; he had suffered a blow as bad as this, in some ways worse, so he would understand. Then, just as Dennis had believed he heard the rush of Jessie’s tread on the stairs, so Kathie seemed to hear her voice, a voice so bright, so full of hope and determination. She closed her eyes to escape the emptiness of the room.
‘Tell you what, Mum. Me and Fudge saw each other at the same time and we ran to meet fast as anything. I expect he thought he was meeting us from school, don’t you, Mum?’
Kathie wanted to answer or to hear the voice again, but she knew if she spoke her words would be met with silence.
Picking up the phone she asked for Sedgewood 172, the number that would take her directly to Bruce’s rooms.
‘Kathie?’ Something in the way he spoke seemed to tell her that he was expecting the news to be bad.
‘Yes, we’ve just got back. I’m ashamed; I didn’t give Beth a thought. I am so grateful to you for rescuing her.’ It surprised her that she could talk so rationally, as if her voice had nothing to do with the aching emptiness she felt.
‘Tell me, Kathie.’
‘We were too late. It was all over.’ Silence. ‘Bruce? Did you hear?’
‘Yes. I don’t know what to say to you; there are no words . . .’
‘I know. Don’t say anything. But I know you understand.’
‘Jess was a child, full of life, full of hope and love. Kathie my dear, you must be feeling you can’t bear it. But from somewhere your strength will come. And even if tonight you aren’t ready to believe it, you and your husband will grow even closer because of sharing your misery.’ This was the Bruce who had talked to her just before Christmas, allowing her to see the sadness he always kept hidden. She wished he were here with her instead of just a voice on the telephone. But perhaps this was easier because if he were here and she could see the sorrow and sympathy in his eyes she was frightened she wouldn’t be able to act out this charade of acceptance.
‘You have been so kind to take Beth home and feed her. I’ll walk up and get her.’
‘She had her supper with the boys; Oliver took good care of her. But a late night won’t hurt her for once, will you give me half an hour or so with her and then I’ll walk her down, Don’t ask me in – not tonight.’
‘No. Not tonight. But aren’t Ollie and the others in bed?’
‘Yes, they are. Will you allow me to tell her about Jess? I believe I know how best to help her.’