Then came the good years thought Giles as he looked back later. Wonderful years full of joy and promise. Times when he learned to laugh and become really human again. At thirty-five years he was an outstanding figure of a man. He was the delight of Helen and the pleasure of Mary and Jon. The children adored their strong father who could pick two of them up together and hold them aloft, squealing and shouting with joy.
It was a happy house now, though tragedy laid her fingers upon it briefly. They called their firstborn John and he was quickly followed by Mike. Jane came a year after in 1892 and George completed their family in 1893. After George, the doctor took Giles aside and told him his brood was complete. There would be no further babies. The last birth had been difficult and prolonged. Only the use of chloroform and Lord Lister’s teachings about antiseptics had saved Helen from a horrible death.
Giles did not mind and reassured Helen of this fact. His family was complete. He had three strong, healthy sons to inherit. He had done what he had set out to do, succeeding beyond his wildest dreams in more ways than one.
The black spot was baby Jane. She was the weak one of the litter. Despite the doctor’s most strenuous efforts she died shortly after George’s birth.
With the coming of the children Mayo’s burst into noisy activity and Jon, even if he had wished, would have found it impossible to remain mentally aloof. He adored his grandsons and they delighted in him. Jon had a fund of fascinating stories to tell them and a myriad of small pockets where such objects as shiny stones, birds’ eggs and other mysteries managed to appear.
Jon left Mayo’s completely to Giles’s management. After the wedding, when his wits had returned, he inspected the farm while Giles was away with Helen. He talked to the men, examined the machines and few carthorses still left. He crumbled the soil in his old hands, eyeing it knowingly. There was nothing left for him to teach Giles. A quick inspection of the accounts which Giles meticulously entered once a week showed him that he could never have put the property back on such sound legs again. Jon was immensely satisfied and resolved that for the rest of his life he was going to work at one thing only. He would be a Grandpa. In this he succeeded beyond his wildest dreams.
‘You are the three most unholy terrors and the most un-Mayo like people I could imagine!’ Mary exclaimed frequently.
The boys used to take this as a compliment, though the Mayo-like bit did puzzle them a little. Giles agreed with his sister. Not one of his sons showed physical Mayo features. They all took after their mother in looks far more than boys should, Giles told himself. They had her brown hair, brown eyes and small noses. Yet in temperament, they were Mayos to the fingertips. They were stubborn, tough and self-reliant. They worshipped the land and, copying their father, mixed freely with the workers’ children. This disgusted Giles’s contemporaries and bothered him not at all.
John, being the eldest, was the natural leader. Mike and George were his sworn followers though, at times, they were perfectly capable of thinking up their own peculiar brand of mischief. Then they would inveigle John into thinking the idea was his. They were so close and harmonious in their relations to each other that it was almost uncanny.
They really were good years, Giles told himself again. Good for us though pretty rotten for the Howards.
Giles never saw Robert. The gulf was immeasurably wide between them but news was still easy to come by. Robert had married. It was a sudden affair and took the area by surprise. One day Robert was single and the next married to a small, dark-haired girl from Gloucester called Eliza.
She was a darting minx of a female who, Giles guessed, would keep Robert on the hop. When Giles first heard the news he wondered uneasily how to tell Mary. Years had passed. Time had mellowed a situation but he knew only too well that the heart was a highly complicated organ. Mary had been so much in love.
He did not like Eliza. Her character appeared to be furtive and he wondered exactly how much happiness Robert had with his wife. There was something about Eliza which Giles did not trust. Other men ogled her too much and she was certainly not averse to masculine flattery. But he knew why Robert had married. Heirs! Ferndale too must have heirs. Eliza was going to be a breeding vessel. The Howard line had to be perpetuated just like that of the Mayos. It was basic logic where land and its power was concerned.
He mentioned Eliza’s name to Mary one evening, watching carefully for his sister’s reactions. Mary was sharp. She understood and although the news had sent a stab of jealousy searing her heart she had quickly banished it. She listened to Giles in seeming indifference.
‘I don’t care for her,’ Giles told Mary one morning.
‘But you don’t know her!’ and Mary thought what a typically arrogant statement Giles had just made. How very masculine!
‘Can’t help it. She’s not the right girl for Robert!’
‘How do you know?’ Mary challenged him. ‘When did you last speak to Robert?’ and she could have bitten her tongue off.
Giles hesitated before he replied, ‘You know the answer to that, sister!’
‘I didn’t mean—oh, Giles, I’m sorry. That was a tactless thing for me to say,’ Mary stammered.
‘It’s all right. It all happened a long time ago. I don’t think of it very often now. There’s no point. Thinking doesn’t bring people back.
No, it’s just that I know Robert. We were such kindred souls. If things had been different we would have been good friends to each other.
Far better friends than James and I would ever have been. He was lonely, too, you know.’
‘But things can’t be all that bad. They do have three sons, you know!’ Mary pointed out, then blushed a little. Some things were still unladylike to say even to a close brother.
Giles grinned at her embarrassment, reading her mind. ‘You look most attractive sister when you do blush! You should do it more often—but I understand your meaning perfectly. The point is that still doesn’t make a healthy marriage!’
Mary fell silent, not knowing what to say. Giles could be most perceptive at times. Was Robert unhappily married? She had never heard controversial gossip about them but, on the other hand, she didn’t stray far from Mayo’s.
‘Does Helen know about what’s happened in the past?’ she asked, changing the subject on to safer ground.
Giles nodded slowly. ‘I’ve told her some of it. I’ll tell the boys some too when they get older but there’s no point in thrashing over every little detail again. It’s funny though, about Robert’s boys. I saw them a couple of weeks ago with their parents in Bristol. No, they didn’t see me. I kept well back but their three lads are roughly the same age as mine. Joseph is John’s age, David and Mike were born within weeks of each other and Harry Howard was born just after Jane. There is one very weird thing. Our three don’t look like Mayos at all. They take after their mother too much for that—but those Howard boys look just like Mayos!’
‘Oh no!’
Giles nodded. ‘You’d think we’d each bred the other’s brood.’
‘It’s the old Mayo blood throwing back again,’ Mary said, speaking almost to herself. ‘Because you can’t get away from the fact that we do come from the one family.’
‘At least, those three are going to a different school. That’s Robert’s doing, thank God. I don’t fancy our three devils tangling with three Howards!’
‘Especially as things don’t seem to be going too well at Ferndale. Father was right, what he said years ago,’ Mary added thoughtfully.
Giles nodded in agreement. At first the preparations leading up to the Boer War had boded well for the Ferndale Horse Stud. Horses were in tremendous demand and the special Howard’s greys were much sought after by the officers. Robert made money hand over fist. What he did with it Giles did not know, though he suspected that what Robert earned Eliza quickly spent.
Tragedy struck Ferndale practically overnight. A wounded officer returned from the Cape with a favourite mare. He planned to have her bred by a Howard’s stallion but the mare doomed nearly all the famous grey breed. In a few short weeks the great horse herds were decimated as the terrible and, to then, unknown Epizootic Lyphingitis swept through them. There was no cure, no answer to it all. A stricken Robert and unbelieving Peter watched their precious horses die under their very noses.
Hastily they isolated a stud stallion and six mares, sending them to another part of the county. They waited, with bated breath, to see if the disease had been carried.
It was all just too much for Peter Howard. He lay down and died. Worn out and quite heart-broken before his time. Robert was harassed beyond endurance. Giles watched from a distance. He badly wanted to help but dared make no offer. While his father was alive his hands were tied.
Mayo’s thrived and now Howards sank into the mire. It was not just the disease but also the state of the war. English horses were, it was admitted at last, quite useless for that type of mounted combat. They did not have the high training the Boer gave to his small, tough, veld-bred pony who could travel incredible distances. The pampered English horses had to be fed the best hay and corn, all of which was imported. Its Boer counterpart lived quite rough off the land and thought nothing of being ridden for 40 miles with a heavy man on its back and then charging at the gallop into attack. This small animal was carefully trained to stand while his rider dismounted and used his neck as a level for his rifle. An English horse in similar circumstances would rear up and take off at the first shot. One English fighting man in four was compelled to stand uselessly holding reins.
Many horses arrived in South Africa wearing their thick English winter coats. They were not acclimatized and horse losses grew alarmingly high. The men’s morale was affected.
As the news filtered back to England it became obvious to Giles that this was more than the beginning of the end. Horse breeding, as now known, was obsolete.
The Howard greys had been bred, down the years, following the same faithful pattern laid down by Jos. They were very good horses. Supreme riding animals but out of date for professional competition or war. They had spirit, beauty and fire, but somewhere along the line, they had lost some speed. They failed hopelessly on the race track and were now unpopular as officers’ chargers. Only the ladies liked them and this market was small.
‘Bread and meat are aways wanted and never more so than when a country is at war,’ Giles told himself. The population was booming, food demands were increasing but Robert had become dangerously conservative.
‘Why can’t he see what’s happening?’ Giles groaned to himself. ‘He must plough up those horse pastures quickly. Unless he changes, he’ll go bust!’
They met one momentous day in Chipping Sodbury market. It was a pure accident, surprising them both and leaving them in shocked and embarrassed silence.
Giles had turned rather sharply from the stall selling saddles and cannoned into his double.
‘I beg your pardon—good God! Robert!’ he exclaimed. Without thinking his hand shot out. Robert grasped it without hesitation, smiling gently with a queer expression in his eyes.
They fell silent then. Each waiting for the other to break the ice. Not knowing what to do or what to say. So many years had passed, yet looking at each other they were back again to their last parting. Memories flooded through both their minds. They remembered what they had both sweated to forget.
‘It’s been a long time, Giles!’ Robert said slowly.
Giles nodded. ‘A very long time, I . . .’ and he had hesitated at a loss for suitable words. He didn’t like what he was remembering. They were in the middle of a crowd yet alone again on two horses galloping wildly after a grey stallion and terrified boy.
Robert sensed his thoughts. ‘It’s not easy to talk—after—well, so much has happened and, oh damn it all, Giles! I am pleased to see you again!’ he said sincerely.
A slow, tired smile crept over Giles’s face as his heart warmed to this man so like himself. ‘I’m glad to see you. Let’s have a beer!’
They pushed their way into a tavern and a pint of ale in each hand, backs against a wall in a packed room, they drank and looked at each other. They had sworn friendship for each other. Where had it got them? What would happen if they dared to pick up those same reins again? And how could I, Giles asked himself, not while father is alive.
‘How are things with you—now?’ he asked Robert after a long pause.
Robert shook his head. ‘Pretty bad but thank God we saved a breeding herd.’
‘Are you going to keep on with horses?’ Giles asked him casually.
Robert paused, chewed his bottom lip, then shot a frank look at Giles.
‘Would you?’
‘I’d stop concentrating on horses—but then you know me. I’ve never held much stock for them,’ he prevaricated.
‘But what would you do instead?’ Robert persisted.
‘Grow corn for bread. Rear pigs for meat with some cattle thrown in. That’s what I’d do!’
Robert fell silent, chewing this over thoughtfully. ‘I’ve been thinking that but it hurts to see so few horses on the land. The thought of ploughing up the pastures, well, it’s like sacrilege. I think Grandpa Jos would turn in his grave!’
Giles shook his head. ‘Not from what I’ve heard about him. He would say it was the practical thing to do. Let’s face it, Rob. Ferndale is more than your home. It’s your business. Don’t forget, you can always go back to horse breeding—you say you’ve kept a stud nucleus!’ Giles pointed out.
‘I know, but it’s alien to the way I was brought up! However, I guess we all have to move with the times or go under. You have done well at Mayo’s! Look at you, the showpiece farm of this county. I’m glad for you, Giles!’ Robert meant it.
He paused then and studied Giles’s face carefully.
‘How is Mary?’ he asked quietly.
Giles returned the look and plumbed to the depths of Robert’s heart. There was unhappiness in those eyes. There was also wistful longing for something precious and lost forever.
‘She’s well,’ Giles told him.
‘She never married?’ Robert stated flatly.
Giles paused. This was dangerous ground. They should both get off it quickly.
‘Why didn’t she marry?’ Robert persisted.
Giles had to give an answer. ‘How could she? With father and after James—’ then he fell silent.
‘Such a waste—for both of us. We didn’t deserve it because we were meant for each other. It’s not fair. Nothing’s fair. There’s no justice in this life!’
Giles could think of nothing to say. He understood, in a clairvoyant flash of sympathetic knowledge that he had not been alone in his suffering. Bitterness rose in him too then. Robert was right. It had all been so grossly unfair. Mary and Robert had indeed been made for each other.
* * *
The Mayo boys grew and grew, their wild spirits seemingly uncheckable. With great reluctance Giles despatched them to a public school where discipline and manners were considered more important than book learning. They came home at frequent intervals and, Helen thought, they’re just the same.
‘Have I reared myself three tartars?’ she asked Giles more than once. ‘But they are lovable boys with all their devilry!’ she weakened almost immediately.
Helen, like Julie, had been amazed when she had heard some of the details of the Mayo-Howard feud. When Giles described his family’s turbulent history though she started to understand some of the deep passions involved. She never mentioned the past to Jon. Mary warned her early on when she first came to Mayo’s that ground was too dangerous to tread.
To Jon, a Howard was still something lower than a rat. Only Giles and Mary could fully understand the deep current of hatred running through the old man’s memory. Gradually, though, the boys began to grasp this too, though not without asking their Grandpa a multitude of questions. Jon eagerly answered their questions and the answers worried the adults, especially Giles. Because, quite naturally, Jon gave answers according to his gospel. Sometimes the boys didn’t fully believe everything Jon told them, so they would come to Giles with their questions.
John, at eighteen, was the spokesman. ‘We know we’re vaguely related to the Howards, Pa. We know that Uncle James, great-Grandpa George and great-Uncle John all died because of them, but—’ and here John paused hesitantly looking at his brothers.
‘Oh Lord! What’s he going to come out with now?’ Giles asked himself anxiously.
‘Well, spit it out, son!’
‘Well, we heard that you and Robert Howard were once friends. Jim Charlton said so. I hit him on the nose for it because it was a lie, wasn’t it?’
‘Oh dear!’ said Giles, shaking his head. ‘Here we go again!’
Jim Charlton, who went to their public school, was a notoriously gossipy boy. He was supposed to be a friend of the Howards but Giles doubted whether he would ever have a true friend with his wicked tongue.
His three sons stood waiting for his answer. Giles knew they expected him to deny such treachery.
‘Look boys! Once long ago when I was only your age I had a brother whom I didn’t like—and he didn’t like me either.’
The three boys looked at each other in astonishment. Brothers disliking each other. This was not possible!
‘We didn’t like each other because we were so different. And because we didn’t like each other we were both, in our way, very lonely. The only boy I ever spoke to at school was Robert Howard. Even in those days we fought more than we spoke!’
‘But you always beat him?’ George stated flatly.
Giles grinned. ‘Sometimes and sometimes not! One day Robert and I met and we talked instead of fighting for a change. He was as lonely as me. We were two boys alone without a close friend of any kind. We were both very unhappy. Have you ever seen him?’
They shook their heads in unison.
‘Well, take a good look at him if ever you get the chance. You know we’re related. You’d be surprised to see just how alike Robert and I do look. Sometimes, wearing the same clothes, we could pass as twins. It’s the Mayo blood in both of us. As we were both so terribly lonely we thought perhaps we could become friends—and forget our loneliness. My brother James died, you know how, and Grandpa blamed Robert. Really it was all my fault. Since then Robert and I knew we could not hope to be friends because of the terrible past. In fact, boys, I’ve only spoken to Robert Howard once in all those years and that was recently—but I should not tell your Grandpa that!’ he warned them hastily.
Mike, the sensitive one, had been studying his father’s face. ‘And all that made you very sad, Pa, didn’t it?’
Giles slowly nodded, his heart warming to this perceptive son.
‘How would you three like to be alone without a friend of your own age?’
They looked at each other, appalled at this thought. To be alone was something so dreadful they had never considered it.
‘So Charlton wasn’t lying then!’ John said later.
‘And you hit him for nothing. You’ll have to apologize!’ George told him. John nodded agreement. He looked at Mike then back at George.
‘I think Pa must have had a rotten boyhood!’ Mike said flatly.
George nodded agreement.
‘I think so too!’ added John. ‘But I still don’t want anything to do with those Howards. I don’t like them even if they are distant family. They’ve caused too much trouble in the past. That Joseph is silly. All he thinks about is painting and music. Girls do that!’ he said scornfully.
‘David is always reading!’ Mike added in some disgust.
‘Harry’s the best of the bunch. He can ride and shoot nearly as good as us but he’s such a kid,’ George said.
‘What do you mean? He’s a year older than you!’ Mike pointed out in amusement.
‘Well, he doesn’t act it at times. He’s a bit young!’ George sounded a little pompous.
‘Listen to him!’ roared Mike.
George fell on him, fists flailing like windmills but punches pulled. With a roar John joined in. Within a minute three healthy fine specimens of British youth were wrestling on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.
‘Those boys!’ sighed Mary as she looked out of the window.
Helen shook her head. ‘I do wish Jane had lived. I’m sure she would have been a steadying influence!’
Giles snorted. ‘Nothing will steady those three but work, work and then more work!’
* * *
In 1911 Jon took to his bed with a cough and cold. He told them it was nothing to fuss about. Within 24 hours his temperature had risen. Gravely the doctor told them it was this new thing called influenza. They tried everything they knew but Jon developed pneumonia. It was obvious he was dying.
Giles and Helen sat with him one evening, giving Mary a rest. They watched his straining lungs, hearing the fluid rattling inside as he started to drown in his own liquid. He opened his eyes once. His lips twisted in a ghastly smile and he whispered ‘Julie! At last!’ His heart collapsed under the terrible strain and he died.
The boys were shattered with grief. This was their first meeting with death. They could not imagine Mayo’s without their Grandpa. He had always been there. He was as much a part of Mayo’s as the foundations. He couldn’t, just couldn’t, go from them.
For many weeks they were subdued and silent. Then gradually their effervescent spirits returned as their attention turned to a new discovery. Girls! From being gape-toothed creatures they appeared now as luscious creations with swaying hips and tempting bosoms.
They toured the county, having themselves a great time. As they always moved in a threesome and were quick with their fists, this became a little hard on more serious suitors, but the eligible girls adored them.
With their clean shaved faces—all Mayos disliked facial hair—their long, clean limbs and honest eyes, they swept and conquered unmercifully. They did not once get themselves into too serious a tangle which Giles was unable to sort out. Nevertheless, swearing heartily at them, he always deducted monies he had to pay out, from their allowances. He wondered uneasily just how many bastard Mayos these boys were going to be responsible for if they kept on like this.
They were the joy of the girls, the terror of the boys, the bane of the papas and the wistful envy of the mamas. These ageing ladies only wished they had been courted in such a boisterous fashion.
The Mayos and Howards, by mutual sensitivity, took different stamping grounds. The Howards appeared weak, poor creatures against the lusty, virile Mayo boys.
Giles often thought uneasily what Robert made of it all when news reached the area how his three had rampaged through Bristol on a Saturday evening. It was a miracle they had not yet been locked up.
‘But I suppose there’s time enough for that to happen!’ Giles groaned to himself.
Now and again Giles and Robert allowed themselves to meet at the market. It was a safe, neutral ground and though never admitting it they took tremendous pleasure in these casual meetings. They would go and have a drink and exchange safe news like farming versus horse breeding.
Giles thought Robert had aged one Saturday midday. There were distinct lines across his friend’s forehead and frequently he appeared to be thinking of other matters far away. Giles hesitated as to whether he should probe.
Robert had always been perceptive to the point of sharpness. On this particular morning he once again appeared to read Giles thoughts.
‘Yes, there is something wrong,’ he told Giles abruptly. He paused a second as if marshalling some unpleasant thoughts into an acceptable speech, then, voice faltering a little, he confided in his friend.
‘It’s Eliza. She’s not the best of wives. You see, Giles—oh—to hell with it! This kind of thing can’t be said delicately. She’s seeing other men and liking it too. From what I’ve found out it’s just pure luck that she’s not been landed with a baby!’
Giles was appalled. There had always been something about Eliza which had aroused his distrust. He saw the hurt in Robert’s face. He imagined the stab to his pride. How long had this been going on? What did Robert intend doing?
Again Robert answered the unspoken question. ‘What am I going to do? I’m going to divorce her for adultery!’
Giles was astounded at first. Divorce was so, and he hunted for a suitable description—divorce was wrong. The church said so. Divorced persons were banned from so much, this action being heavily frowned upon in higher circles. That Robert was contemplating such action showed his desperation. There would be talk, gossip and far worse. His name, even though innocent, would be dragged through the mud. His boys too would not escape uninjured. Divorce was sordid.
Although Giles had never been an avid church-goer he had received sufficient indoctrination as a young boy to flinch aside at the word. Then his logical and reasonable mind came to his aid. How could he pass judgement? What kind of suffering must Robert have undergone? Even he had suspected Eliza Howard for a long time. Robert had obviously been the last person to find out as was so often the case. His heart felt for his friend. He wanted to help, to render practical assistance but there was absolutely nothing he could do. Poor Robert, he was having to stand alone and take his blows. First Ferndale and the loss of his horses, then Peter Howard’s death and now an unhappy marriage.
‘I’ll be all right,’ Robert told him quietly. ‘The solicitors are handling everything and there is adequate evidence. There’ll be a smell but I can ride out the storm. The boys will stay with me. Thank God they have faith in their father. Eliza never showed them much interest. I’m glad now otherwise they might have been torn in two.’
‘It’s a rotten business—and there’s nothing I can do to help, is there?’
Robert shook his head. ‘It’ll all blow over though I expect it will take time.’
A thought struck Giles then with a dart’s penetration. Robert would be free to many again if he wished. Robert—and Mary. His sister with a divorced man? He tossed the idea about for a few seconds. It was against everything bred into him but he knew only too well that true love is the most dangerous force in the world. Did Mary still feel anything for Robert and he for her?
Robert had been studying Giles’ face. His sharp, perceptive mind followed the train of unspoken thought.
‘I won’t say I’ve not considered the matter because I have,’ he stated suddenly.
Giles was taken aback. He could think of nothing to say. ‘Where would you stand if?’ and Robert left the sentence unfinished.
‘I don’t know. Honest to God, I just do not know!’
‘Why shouldn’t we marry—if she’d have me, that is. Shop-soiled so to speak,’ Robert added wistfully, ‘but through no fault of my own. Why shouldn’t we marry? What the hell has convention done for me—or you? We’ve lost a lot of years but why can’t we spend those remaining to us together? We’d not be harming anyone!’ he challenged.
‘The Church!’ Giles objected weakly.
Robert swore savagely. ‘And what has the Church done for me—or you? Tell me, did the Church help your conscience when James died? Well, did it? No, you had to battle through on your own. To hell with what people or the Church thinks. We only come this way once. Why shouldn’t I take what happiness I can while I’m able.’
‘She might not want you,’ Giles pointed out softly. ‘She’s never been out with any man after you.’
‘No, and you know why? I’ll tell you! It’s because she was only made for me and me for her. Eliza—!’ and Robert swore another foul oath.
‘She gave you your heirs!’ Giles pointed out.
‘The one decent thing she ever did!’ Robert retorted, then he lowered his voice and eyed Giles carefully.
‘I still want Mary—if she’d have me. Would you try and stop us?’
‘I’d not stop you, old friend. Why the hell should I? I wish you luck but, mark you, Mary’s deep and has a mind of her own. It might be too late!’
‘In that case she can tell me so herself!’ Robert told him grimly, but the telling had to wait. Other far more momentous events were happening.
Hundreds of miles away an insignificant archduke got himself and his wife assassinated. The drums began to roll. Their rumble grew to a thunder and men’s hearts beat with the drums. There was far more important news to discuss now than a mere divorce case.
To the Mayo boys this was marvellous. A chance to travel, fight and whore to their heart’s delight without parental opposition. This was going to be life itself. They enlisted en masse, refusing to go as officers, knowing they would only be separated. Instead, they donned rough, ill-smelling khaki and flung themselves into the war game with their usual spontaneous frivolity.
They nearly broke Helen’s and Mary’s hearts. Giles, shocked, but understanding their feelings, gave his reluctant blessing.
‘It will all be over by Christmas,’ they told him. ‘We must go now or we’ll miss all the fun!’
It was only the quieter, sober Howard boys who understood the political implications. They appreciated that this would most likely be a long affair. It was no skirmish against mounted farmers. This was the real thing and for keeps. But they were English; they believed in freedom and they had been suitably educated with all the pompous propaganda of the times. Off they went to do their duty for King and Country.
They left behind a broken-hearted Robert and a lonely man. His divorce was absolute. He was alone in Ferndale for the very first time in his life and it hurt deeply.
Giles knew this and made his first call ever, driving his new motor-car. A thing of belching smoke and grinding gears, it moved at the fantastic speed of 25 miles per hour.
Robert, ever conservative, stuck to his horse and chaise. He was delighted to welcome Giles into his home. It was the first time Giles had entered the house and once inside the two men looked steadily at each other.
‘It’s taken us a long time to make it!’ Robert said as a slow smile spread over his weather-beaten features.
Giles nodded in happy agreement. ‘Far too long!’
‘And there’s no going back now?’
‘No!’ Giles replied in a strong voice. ‘No matter what happens let’s enjoy the friendship we lost as boys.’
‘So be it! Whisky?’
And so finally began the most wonderful masculine friendship which had taken so many years to turn from bud to blossom. These two men had so much in common, their tastes, though different, melded into each other’s. They had sense enough not to hurry things. Both of them still acutely conscious of the past. Like matured wine which had to be sipped slowly for full appreciation, they took their time. Their earlier conversations being about more topical events. They did not mention Mary. Robert was not yet sure enough to move; the war was too powerfully foremost in all thoughts.
‘Our boys?’ Robert asked hesitantly.
Giles frowned. ‘Yes. You have a point. There’ll be trouble—because of the past but, quite frankly, the boys can get on with it. I think you and I are both overdue for something for ourselves!’
‘I agree!’ then Robert’s voice became gloomy. ‘There will be trouble from our boys. It was all right when they moved in different directions.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My three have joined the same regiment as yours!’ Robert informed him.
Giles groaned. ‘Oh, no! Not that! What possessed them?’
‘Well, it’s out of our hands,’ Robert said philosophically. ‘The funny thing is your three are such hellers and don’t even look like Mayos. My three are me all over again in appearance yet take after Eliza’s parents. Artistic! Breeding’s a funny thing. You get much better results with horses. Damned sight more predictable, too!’ Robert added glumly.
Giles burst into laughter and slapped Robert on the back. ‘You and your horses!’
‘Talking about horses, did you know the Army are scouring the country for remounts? I only have some old stock left. All the others have been requisitioned!’
‘But that’s crazy!’ Giles expostulated. ‘The horse in war is finished. This is the age of the engine. Fancy taking horses,’ he snorted.
‘And I’ve heard that when the weather gets bad in France it really does rain. Vehicles are going to bog down and horses too. What’s it going to be like for our lads?’ Robert asked unhappily.
Giles stared back steadily. ‘One thing’s for sure! It’s not going to be over by Christmas as so many fools think. This is going to be something long and bad. I can feel it in my bones.’
Robert nodded unhappily. ‘My sentiments exactly!’
Giles lifted his glass. ‘To our six boys. God grant they all come back to us!’