The train to Sevenoaks was due in a few minutes. My shoulder had stiffened horribly during the night, and although I tried to keep it mobile there was a low, throbbing pain that the powders I’d been given didn’t seem to touch. Relieved to remember that this time, at least, I wouldn’t have to drive, I was looking forward to getting beyond all the business of posing for … I caught my breath, wondering why I hadn’t realised before; I was no Elsie Knocker, but whenever a donation was collected there were photographers and newspaper reporters everywhere.
‘Oliver, you can’t possibly come with me!’
There was no answer, and when I turned to look behind, where Oliver had been standing a moment before, there was no one there. I looked around, but there were only strangers on the platform. Perhaps he had gone to speak to someone he knew, or to check we were in time for the train? I waited, not wanting to move away from where he knew I’d be, but growing more and more anxious as the minutes ticked away and, when he hadn’t returned by the time the train rolled in, I walked up the platform, craning my neck for sight of him.
Passengers disembarked, were replaced, and still there was no sign. I looked into all the carriage windows I could, straining through the glass to the faces beyond but not seeing him anywhere. The guard began slamming the doors shut – I had to make a decision, and I seized my case and scrambled quickly into the nearest carriage just as the whistle blew. The train began to chuff gently out of the station, and I hung out of the window and finally, through the throng of waving friends and relations, I saw Oli. Standing very still, his face turned away, but recognisable by the bright red curls tumbling in the breeze.
Realisation dropped coldly into place; he’d had no intention of either coming to Devon, or returning to Belgium. He had tricked Archie and me, and if he didn’t return, and Archie sent that telegram…it didn’t bear thinking about. I felt a helpless, boiling rage at Oliver’s selfishness. His nervousness started to make more sense now, the jittery eagerness to get on board the boat, the reluctance to be seen…I thought of how close Will had come to being executed, and compared that to this man using his sister’s terrible situation to escape, and I felt like reporting Oliver myself, and hang the consequences.
For a moment I toyed with doing just that, and with getting off at the next station and hoping he would still be here when I managed to get back, but I knew it was hopeless to think he would be. He’d only waited long enough to ensure I got onto the train myself The thing now was to get word to Archie, to stop him sending that incriminating telegram, and then to somehow track down Oliver and persuade him to go back before he himself was sentenced for desertion. And, almost seeming unimportant next to those desperate problems: how to convince Kitty to give up the name of her attacker now?
The ambulance bumped into the farmyard as the sky was lightening the following morning. Having been awake all the previous night and day, and driven down from Kent alone, I had finally pulled over to sleep as fatigue overtook me, and now felt groggy and sore. But the sight of the early-morning activity, of a widely yawning Land Girl and a brisk Mrs Adams coming out of the kitchen, and the knowledge that I would soon see Lizzy again, gave me a flicker of deep pleasure.
Mrs Adams quickly shook her head and pointed down the lane, raising her voice above the squawking of startled chickens, and the rumble of the engine. ‘Lizzy in’t here, love. She’s back home for a few days. Down there about two miles. Can’t miss it, this end of the row of five, just over the bridge. Be sure and come up to see us later, I’ll have a bit o’ dinner for you all.
The cottage was small but pretty, with a well-tended garden boasting a few blackcurrant and gooseberry bushes, and windows that caught the early morning sun, shining as though they’d just been cleaned with vinegar; I hoped Lizzy wasn’t overdoing things. I switched off the engine just as the front door opened, and I immediately saw that the Lizzy who greeted me was not the same as the one to whom I had said goodbye such a short time ago. She had been just as healthy-looking, and just as cheerful, but there had been a slightly distant look in her eyes then, as if a vital part of herself had been lifted away, leaving her functioning but incomplete. This Lizzy was whole. And it only took two steps into the little kitchen to see why.
Uncle Jack stood beside the table with a piece of toast in his hand, and a look of such surprise on his face that I knew Lizzy hadn’t told him of my imminent arrival. For one blissful moment, Archie, Oliver, Kitty, and even Will, were swept from my mind, and there was only the deep relief and joy at the sight of this man, and I knew for certain, and for the first time, that he was forgiven. I was across the room before he had time to speak, and I heard him throw the toast back onto the table a second before I reached him and he lifted me off the ground in a tight hug. I didn’t even mind the pain that sliced into my shoulder, and the constant nagging ache from my broken tooth.
‘Evie, darling girl,’ Jack said, and his familiar voice, with its faint north-western accent, was the undoing of my tightly held composure. I knew his love for me was strong enough to hold me up, so I let go. The moment my feet touched the floor again I laid my head against his chest and began to sob. I heard Lizzy’s exclamation of dismay from behind, but Jack spoke, murmuring something I couldn’t hear and I sensed he was telling her not to worry.
He smoothed down my hair, just like he had when I’d been a little girl and taken one of my many tumbles. Back then he’d never told me to stop climbing around like an adventurous boy, to ride my ponies with more decorum, or to walk down the stairs instead of running. He’d simply looked at my bruises and scrapes, taken my hand and led me outside to the apple trees where we’d count the small, hard apples on the branches and on the ground until I’d forgotten why I’d been crying. Now it was as if I was that child still, and he still knew how to make me forget my woes.
He drew me out into the little garden Lizzy had told me so much about, and we breathed in the clean, cold air of the early spring morning while I found the calm inside myself again. He had been working here too, I could tell, and as he showed me the shrubs he had planted and the shoots that already poked out of the half-frozen soil, he talked to me. About nothing in particular, mostly the types of plants he wanted to try and grow, but also about the Devon countryside, with which he had fallen in love every bit as deeply as he had with the woman who had brought him here.
I always enjoyed hearing him talk about Lizzy; knowing how she loved him, to hear him speak of her in such wondering tones, as if he didn’t deserve her and couldn’t quite believe she wanted him, warmed me right through and gave me hope. Eventually his voice faded away, and he waited for me to tell him what had propelled me into his arms with such relief and despair.
‘I can’t tell you just yet,’ I said apologetically. ‘I’ll talk to you both together. When we’re…’ I looked around, and couldn’t see Kitty anywhere, but I didn’t want to risk it. ‘Definitely alone,’ I finished.
‘All right,’ he said, and put his arm around me as we walked back to the little house. Lizzy was clearing away the last of the breakfast things, and Jack made me laugh by complaining she had tidied away his toast too soon.
‘Honestly, just because I threw it on the table doesn’t mean I was finished with it,’ he grumbled.
‘Too late,’ she said smartly, whipping the half-full mug of tea he’d also left to go cold. ‘If you can’t finish a simple meal without dragging the guests out to show off your garden, you miss out. The birds will enjoy it.’
The look she gave him belied her brisk words, and I glanced away; their eyes had locked together and the gaze remained unbroken. I wondered how long Jack had been back from Germany, and whether they had found privacy to be alone together in what must be a very full house indeed. Which reminded me.
‘Where are Emily and the twins?’ I asked.
‘Gone with Ma, to visit my gran,’ she said, and it occurred to me this was a whole side of Lizzy’s life I had never even asked about. I felt bad about it and resolved to spend some time talking to her this time. Although, with Jack here, she might be less inclined to natter her time away, and I couldn’t blame her for that. It had been clear for a long time that these two were hopelessly addicted to one another, and I couldn’t bear to be in the way. My pleasure at being here, while certainly not lessened by Jack’s presence, was altered slightly; I couldn’t help feeling a bit odd when I saw them touch one another in passing, or exchange a look like this one, that scorched the air between them. It had long been the same with Will and me, but our time together had always been cut short, and so rarely did it happen, that I couldn’t help feeling a flicker of jealousy. It soon passed though, when I saw how deeply contented Lizzy and Jack were in each other’s company – having found each other, no one else would do, for either of them. But could I say the same about Will and me?
Lizzy seemed to notice the shadow pass across my face as the question popped, unbidden, into my mind,but I wasn’t here to talk about Will, as much as my heart contracted whenever I thought of him. It was Archie who needed our attention now, and, though my anger with Oliver still boiled, him too.
‘Is Kitty all right?’ I said, ‘And where is she, anyway?’
‘She’s fine. She offered to take over from me for a couple of days when Jack came back, since I’m still only on light duties. She’s been helping out with the lambing too, she loves that.’ She frowned at me then, noticing how I favoured my right arm. I pulled a face and removed my coat, uncovering the padded dressing on the side of my neck.
She and Jack both spoke at once but I shook my head. ‘I’m all right,’ I said, ‘it was just a piece of glass. But it cut the muscle that goes down into my shoulder, so I’ve been sent back to let it heal.’
Jack’s face was grim. ‘How did it happen?’
We sat down and I gave them as brief a description of the shelling as I could manage, watching their faces go from concern to horror, and then to determination, and they both began trying to persuade me that going back would be a very poor choice.
‘I’m going as soon as I’m able to,’ I told them firmly.
‘What were you thinking of, driving here alone?’ Jack scolded. ‘Very very silly, and not at all likely to help your healing.’
I exchanged a glance with Lizzy, who had clearly had the same thought as me.
‘Extremely silly,’ she agreed, somewhat archly. ‘You must never drive when you’re injured. Must you, Jack?’
She brushed a gentle finger across his right side and, after a momentary struggle with his sense of parental responsibility, he subsided. ‘Point taken. Don’t listen to me. But you’re a sensible girl, so listen to this,’ and he reached out and tapped my head.
‘I will, I promise. But I have to tell you something else. Something more important.’ I told him everything that had happened after I got back to Number Twelve after seeing Will, and he looked grim at the news of Kitty’s situation. The look melted into sympathy, until I told him Archie was planning to cover for Oliver, and then his face darkened again but I pushed on; I was just three words away from fully unburdening myself and couldn’t stop now.
‘Oliver has disappeared.’
There was a silence in that little cottage kitchen that seemed completely out of place. Not a sound came through from outside, not even the distant noise of animals or birds. Eventually Jack spoke and I could hear the effort of control in his voice.
‘I’ll kill him.’
‘Jack!’ Lizzy said, but her voice too was worried and taut. She laid a hand on Jack’s arm, and he subsided slightly, but his jaw was still rigid, and his eyes flashed blue fire.
‘This is my nephew we’re talking about. He’s risking his life for this bloody Maitland boy!’
‘As you did for Will!’ I shot back. ‘And as Lizzy did for you.’
‘That’s not the –’
‘Please, Uncle Jack,’ I said in little more than a whisper, ‘you have to help find him, persuade him to go back before Archie sends that telegram.’ And he had Archie’s papers, too, I belatedly realised. My neck and shoulder hurt horribly and my eyes were grainy and tired. Lizzy had prepared a bed for me in case I turned up late at night, and she stood ready now to help me to my feet, but I couldn’t rest until I knew Jack was going to help. His anger was palpable, but he was a good man and I knew he would do the best he could, if only he could put his fury aside.
He exchanged a long, wordless look with Lizzy, and then shifted his gaze to me and his voice softened, although only a little. ‘Of course I will.’
It was enough. I felt Lizzy’s arm come around me as I slumped in relief, with my head pillowed on my arms. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Uncle Jack,’ I mumbled into the crook of my elbow. Lizzy drew me gently to my feet, and led me upstairs to Emily’s room.
‘Do you think he can help?’ I asked her as she helped me undress. It was strange, an old ritual, familiar to us both for so long, yet we were different people now. She helped me only because my arm was becoming less functional the longer I remained awake, and when she turned back the eiderdown to let me slip between the clean, fresh sheets, I felt like crying for all we had lost.
But we had gained, too, and Lizzy’s trust in Jack gave us both strength. ‘I’m sure he’ll do everything he can,’ she said. ‘We’ll talk to Kitty later, and see if we can work out where Oliver might have gone.’
‘Thank you,’ I mumbled, hoping my gratitude was more obvious to her than it sounded to me.
‘Sleep now.’ She left me alone then, and I closed my eyes as the relief of being among loved ones once more stole through me, and carried me into a peaceful and, for once, dreamless sleep.
When I came awake it was late at night, and the opportunity to talk to Kitty that day was past. For a second I fretted at the passing of time, but there was nothing I could do about it now, and worrying about the wasted chance would achieve nothing, so I lay quietly, relishing the comfort of Emily’s bed. The wind had picked up, making a strange, animal-like whine as it cut across the corner of the end-terraced house. I lay for a while, enjoying the sound, comparing it to the hideous shriek of the shells which usually punctuated my nights, making sleep a fitful luxury. As I shifted position to stretch my legs my right shoulder woke up and howled. I bit back a cry and reminded myself to move more slowly, but even settling back down did not lessen this new ache. It set up a sympathetic throbbing in my gum, and I knew I was finally going to have to get something done about that too.
Taking a deep breath, I sat up and eased my legs out from under the covers, the cold momentarily replacing the stinging tug from the stitches in the side of my neck. I let my eyes adjust to the darkness for a while, until I could locate the Aspirin powder I had brought with me, and then poured a glass of water in readiness. Before I could drink it, however, I heard the murmur of voices from the room next door and realised that was what had woken me.
I didn’t want to listen; it would have been like eavesdropping on my parents, but I heard my name, and paused with the glass halfway to my lips.
‘It’s not just up to her,’ Uncle Jack said in reply to whatever Lizzy had been protesting. I could tell they were trying to keep their voices down, but the disagreement had clearly upset Lizzy and her voice had risen.
‘You can’t go back, not for that!’
The echo of my own words, in her scared voice, shook me. Go back where? I carefully replaced the glass and crept closer to the wall between the two rooms. ‘It’s her legacy, darling,’ Jack was saying. ‘And he didn’t see me, I’m sure of it.’
‘And you’re absolutely certain it was him?’
Jack’s voice was grim. ‘Hard to mistake Wingfield, you know that better than most.’
There was a quiet moment and, from the way Lizzy’s voice was muffled when she spoke again, I guessed he had pulled her back to lie against him. ‘Jack, please, go back for your country if you must, but don’t do it for a rock she never wanted in the first place.’
The Kalteng Star? I frowned, my heart speeding up as I strained to catch every word.
‘It’s not just up to Evie,’ Jack said, his voice quieter now too. ‘It’s a Creswell heirloom, and…I owe it to Henry.’ There was a silence, and I closed my eyes, urging her to convince him not to go, but he spoke again. ‘Listen, I’m not risking anything, he doesn’t know I’ve even been over to Germany, let alone seen him. I should be able to find out what he’s done with it, and if he hasn’t got it any more I’ll come home. I promise.’
‘When will you go?’ Lizzy sounded resigned now, and I felt her pain. Just as I had had to accept Will’s decision to return to fighting, so she had, equally reluctantly, accepted this.
‘I’ll leave directly from France, as soon as this mess with young Archie is sorted out. We’ll need Kitty’s help though, I hope she’s up to coming back with me.’
‘Jack?’
‘Hmm?’
‘I love you, you know that, don’t you?’
A low chuckle. ‘I think you’ve proved that.’ He sighed, and the sound drifted through the wall as I imagined him tightening his hold on her. ‘And you know I love you. I’d do anything for you.’
‘Except stay,’ she said sadly, and then there was no more talking.
In the morning it was as if the exchange hadn’t happened. There was no mention of his leaving, and it was only the darker circles beneath Lizzy’s eyes that betrayed a sleepless night.
‘We’ll go and talk to Kitty today,’ she told me as she put a bowl of porridge in front of me. It was thick, laced with Dark River Farm honey, and the smell was warm and rich. It made me smile, despite my nervousness.
‘Just the two of us,’ I clarified, looking apologetically at Uncle Jack. He waved it away, already stuck well into his porridge.
‘She’s never met me, the last thing she’d need would be some old man rolling up while you three are discussing…’ he cleared his throat ‘…delicate matters.’
I looked at him with some amusement; at a little under forty years old he still looked thirty, square-shouldered and handsome, only the creases beside his eyes and the deepening of the lines around his mouth showing the toll these past few difficult years had taken on him. Judging from the way Lizzy raised an eyebrow I imagined her thoughts were the echoes of mine.
I grinned. ‘And what will the “old man” be doing while we’re up at the farm?’
‘Gardening,’ he said with satisfaction, and dropped the spoon into his empty bowl. He leaned back and patted his stomach. ‘Any more where that came from?’
Lizzy gave him a look. ‘No. There’s a war on, you know. Besides, you’ll get fat.’
Jack pulled a face and stood up. He leaned down to kiss Lizzy’s forehead, and she leaned against him for a moment. I looked away, not quite embarrassed, but feeling like an intruder on their quiet moment together. They both seemed to sense this and broke apart, and once more I felt a pang of envy for their closeness, and the way their minds were completely in tune.
Jack took his jacket down from the peg by the door, and I reflected how well the casual life suited him. He’d never been one to conform to social standards, but here, in this little kitchen with his garden outside and Lizzy within reach, he was more relaxed, and happier than I’d ever known him.
‘I’m sorry,’ I blurted.
They both looked surprised. ‘Sorry for what, love?’ Jack said.
‘For pulling you away from all this,’ I waved my spoon, ‘and sending you off to France.’
Jack came over to me and took my hand. He removed the spoon from my grip and drew me gently to my feet. The smell held deep in the fibres of his jacket was a comforting mixture of earth and bonfire smoke, and as I wrapped my arms around him I breathed it in, mingled with the smell of the warm, honeyed porridge. How had we ever lived in such isolated, sterile surroundings before?
‘You’re not pulling me anywhere, nor sending me,’ he said, his voice low and soothing. ‘Archie is my family, as are you, and all you’ve done is let me know he needs my help.’
‘Do you think we could send a wire to Archie, warn him not to send the message back to HQ?’
‘No, it’s too dangerous. We don’t know where he’s staying in Calais, although I could probably find out without too much problem. But even if we did, as far as everyone’s concerned he’s in England, and a message wouldonly throw a searchlight onto the whole thing. Better not to draw attention, and trust we get to him first.’ I nodded, and he released me with a gentle squeeze. ‘How’s your shoulder?’
‘It’s better than it was last night,’ I said. The ache had subsided with the aspirin and the water, and I had slept well for the remainder of the night. ‘I should be quite fit to travel in a day or two.’
‘You will not!’ Lizzy protested. ‘You’ll stay here until you’re properly mended.’
I exchanged a glance with Jack and we both smiled. ‘Yes, Lizzy,’ I said meekly. ‘Oh, Uncle Jack, I meant to say; I met someone who remembers you from Africa.’
‘Really? Who’s that?’
‘Lieutenant-Colonel Drewe.’
His expression brightened. ‘Ah, yes, I remember him. Good officer. Madly courageous.’
‘He said the same of you,’ I said, pleased.
Uncle Jack looked surprised, but gratified. ‘I remember he was sort of grandfatherly-looking, even back then,’ he went on. ‘Should think he looks every bit the grandfather now.’
‘He does. And he’s terribly kind. Not at all the type of brass hat you’d expect.’
‘Well, it’s good to know he’s back in active service. After he was injured at Rooiwal he changed quite a lot, became dependent on morphine for a while. We didn’t think he’d rejoin the military so I’m glad to hear things have turned around for him. He runs a tight ship, be a shame for that to have gone to waste.’
‘He spoke highly of both you and Father,’ I said.
‘Did he now? Well, he knew Henry rather better than he knew me.’
I smiled. ‘I have the feeling he knew you a bit better than you realise – said you had no sense of propriety.’
‘Damnable cheek,’ Uncle Jack said, though amiably enough. ‘Do give him my regards when you next see him.’
‘I will.’
‘And don’t go overdoing things while you’re here, all right?’
‘I won’t.’
‘And remember to change your bandages as often as you need to.’
‘I will.’
‘And don’t forget to write to your mother and Lawrence.’
‘I won’t.’
‘And –’
‘Jack!’ Lizzy broke in, and he grinned and ducked away from her well-aimed dishcloth, taking refuge behind the closing door. He opened it again just far enough to blow her a kiss, and she blew one back, and then he was gone.
After I had eaten my porridge I helped Lizzy clear away the plates. She locked the door behind her and the two of us set off up the road towards Dark River Farm. She had not for a moment entertained my suggestion that we should take the ambulance, and it was a relief to stretch my legs, wrapped up warm against the stiff breeze, where the only gun we heard was the occasional crack of a farmer keeping down vermin. I turned my thoughts from Will, where they kept trying to settle every time I thought about the way life was at the fighting front, and instead asked about the farm.
‘It’s a lovely place,’ I said. ‘Where did the name come from?’
‘There are woods that back onto it, at the southern edge of the boundary, and in front of that there’s a fairly small tributary of the River Dart. The trees cast a shadow over most of its length, and since they’re evergreen the river remains in darkness for a good deal of each day.’ She shot me a brief grin. ‘I know, you were hoping for something a little more exciting, weren’t you?’
‘Believe me, I’ve had more than enough excitement for one lifetime,’ I assured her. ‘And what of Mr Adams? Is he still…I mean, did he…’
‘He died, yes. In the first year of the war.’
‘Poor Mrs Adams.’
‘She’s bearing up. She has a lot of help – the girlsare a good substitute family for her, and I’ve seen the man who collects the milk give her the glad eye when he comes over.’
‘And does she return it?’
Lizzy grinned. ‘She pretends he drives her crackers, but I do think she welcomes it, yes.’ She touched my arm, and her voice was gentle. ‘Evie, I know things look bleak now, but they must be well again someday, mustn’t they? We just have to push through this, and hope for the best.’ We were silent for a while as we walked, and I looked across the moors, the woodlands dotted here and there, the valleys spread out below and the occasional farmhouse nestled against the steep slopes. Rain-wet huddles of granite glistened against the green, and the harsh landscape soothed my thoughts, and I began to dare to hope things might just be all right after all.