Three days later, things improved somewhat when the front door opened as Sunday was sorting through the mail. She knew it was too soon for Tom to have had a chance to write and yet she still found herself waiting for the postman each morning. She glanced over her shoulder then dropped the letters as she saw Ben standing there, looking handsome in his uniform.
‘Oh, sweetheart …’ Sunday flew into his arms and he was thrilled at her welcome. Now he knew that, at last, they were back on their old footing. Laughing, he picked her up and swung her round as Lavinia hurried from the day room wondering what all the commotion was about.
‘Ben!’ She too rushed to greet him and there were tears of joy on the women’s faces when they finally drew apart.
‘You look such a fine young man in uniform,’ Lavinia teased and Ben blushed. ‘Come on, you must be starving and longing for a drink.’ Lavinia linked her arm through his and hauled him towards the kitchen.
‘Now don’t start feeding me up,’ he chuckled. ‘I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks.’
‘Even so, you look thinner,’ Sunday commented, eyeing him up and down.
Soon he was seated at the kitchen table with them all fussing over him. ‘So how was the training?’ Sunday asked as she poured him a second cup of Cook’s home-made ginger beer.
Ben’s smile vanished. ‘It was all right. We were taught how to use our rifles and spent half the time stabbing sandbags and shooting at targets. That was fine, though I’m not so sure how I shall feel having to stab or shoot a human being if it comes to it,’ he admitted. This gave the others pause for thought.
They had a good old gossip then as Sunday told him all about what had happened to Cissie.
‘Has she remembered yet who it was that attacked her?’ Ben was horrified. The womenfolk wouldn’t be safe with a maniac like that about.
Sunday shook her head. ‘No. The last thing she remembers is leaving here that evening to go back to the cottage … and then everything after that is a blank. George is convinced that it was Hugh, her son, who did it – but seeing as he’s disappeared off the face of the earth we’ll never know. It does look rather suspicious though, him clearing off like that, don’t you think?’
‘I hope it wasn’t him,’ Ben commented. ‘It would break Cissie’s heart. She was so thrilled when she finally tracked him down. And at least she’s recovering now, which is the main thing.’
‘Hmm.’ Sunday frowned. ‘I’m afraid you may be rather shocked when you see her next. Her arm is still splinted, of course, and the doctor has warned her that it will always be weak now. It was a very bad break – and her face is badly scarred too. She’s very conscious of it, although George – in fact, all of us – has assured her that she’s still lovely and it doesn’t matter to us in the least. We’re just grateful we didn’t lose her. But of course, it matters to her. Cissie has never been a vain person but now she can hardly bear to look in a mirror.’
They reverted to talking of Ben’s training then and he had them roaring with laughter as he described some of the characters he had met and the conditions they were forced to live in.
‘We’re in big tents,’ he said, ‘which is fine in the warm weather, but I dread to think what it will be like in the winter. And the beds are made of wood! Not very comfortable at all, I can assure you. But the food is the worst thing! It’s some sort of stew most days that we wouldn’t feed to yon Barney. I shall waste away,’ he sighed dramatically, and once again they all fell about laughing.
‘So how long are you home for?’ Sunday asked, wiping her eyes.
‘I’ve got a week’s leave then I report back to camp and we all get shipped out.’
‘I see, and have they told you where you’ll be going?’
‘Belgium or France I should imagine, although it’s all very hush-hush.’
Sunday’s stomach dropped at the thought of it but she kept her smile firmly in place as she told him, ‘Then we shall have to make the most of every second we have with you until you leave.’
She gave his hand a loving squeeze, and as she stared at him she found herself wondering when he had changed from a boy into such a handsome young man.
Chapter Forty-Six
‘I wonder why Hugh hasn’t been in touch,’ Cissie said thoughtfully as she and Sunday sat enjoying elevenses in the kitchen at Treetops in mid-August. The police had closed the investigation into Cissie’s attack. As they pointed out, there was no evidence to suggest that anyone else had been involved. She might just have fallen badly and as she was still blissfully ignorant about Hugh’s part in it she hadn’t argued with them. Sunday hoped it would stay that way, for there was nothing to be gained from yet more heartache – although she and Tom had their own thoughts on the matter.
‘It could be that he’s enlisted and been sent off to train before he could come to say goodbye to you,’ Sunday suggested, hoping to make Cissie feel better.
‘Eeh, I’d be that proud of him if he had.’ Cissie smiled. ‘An’ if that’s the case, I might well get a letter from him, mightn’t I?’
‘There’s every chance.’ Sunday personally doubted it but she wouldn’t have hurt Cissie’s feelings for the world. She was still recovering and already it was evident that her arm would never be the same again. Every time Sunday looked at her badly scarred face, anger bubbled inside her, directed towards the person she and Tom were convinced was responsible.
She herself had been very down in the dumps since Tom had been home on embarkation leave before being shipped off. The house wasn’t the same without him and Ben, and now with Cissie unable to do much, a lot of extra work had fallen on her and George’s shoulders.
During the last two weeks, three of the children she had cared for had gone to new homes. One little girl had gone to live with a couple in Leamington, and Bobby and Wilfred had been taken by an elderly couple who owned a farm out Kenilworth way. Now there were only three children left in her care – the youngest, the twins Sarah and Becky, and a girl of eleven, and Tom had requested that until he returned from war, there should be no more. It was too much work for Sunday without him there to help.
Seeing the sense in what he said, Sunday had agreed – but now she was missing the children who had left Treetops as well as Tom and Ben. It seemed to be all very depressing at the minute, the only bright spot being that everyone was still forecasting that the war would be over by Christmas. Sunday prayed that they were right, then perhaps they could all get back to some sort of normality.
The two women were still sitting finishing their elevenses when the postman stuck his head around the kitchen door and gave them a cheeky grin. He usually managed to time his visits to scrounge a nice cup of tea and sometimes a hot buttered scone off Cook, but today he told Sunday, ‘I reckon you’ll give me two cups o’ tea today when you see what I’ve got for yer!’ He waggled an envelope in the air and Sunday’s heart began to beat faster.
‘It’s from the mister if I ain’t very much mistaken,’ he told her. ‘I’m deliverin’ no end o’ these here brown envelopes now.’
Sunday flew across the room so quickly her feet barely touched the floor, and snatching it from his hand in a most unladylike manner she headed for the hall door, telling Cissie over her shoulder, ‘Get Postie a cuppa would you, pet? I want to see what Tom has to say.’
She then went and locked herself away in the drawing room where she joyfully tore the envelope open and withdrew two sheets of thin notepaper. Much of what Tom had written had been crossed out, no doubt by the censor, but she read the rest eagerly.
My darling girl,
I hope you and everyone at Treetops are well. I just wanted to let you know that I have arrived safely in France and we are now on our way to xxxxxxxxxx
The next two lines had been crossed out.
The sea journey here was a bit dicey. The ship we travelled in was tossed about like a feather on the wind on the way across and most of the men were seasick. Not pleasant as we were packed in like sardines in
the bowels of the ship with nowhere to escape the smell. Even so the men were in good spirits and we finally landed in Boulogne to a wonderful welcome from the French people. They were waiting at the end of the gangplank to greet us and shake our hands and then eventually we were loaded into lorries and taken to our barracks, which proved to be no more than a sea of tents set in fields of mud, hardly what we were all hoping for, I have to admit. From here we can hear gunfire and screaming and it’s like landing in hell. The food is pretty dismal too and most of the men are in pain. Their boots are ill-fitting so their feet are covered in blisters and the uniforms while looking smart are itchy after you’ve worn them for a while.
Three more lines had been scribbled out at this point so Sunday hurried on to the final page.
I’m sorry if I sound miserable. Remember it’s not so bad for me as the other chaps so please try not to worry. I’m only to be a groom whereas the young men will be going to the front when they receive their orders. Some of them look like they are still wet behind the ears and nowhere near old enough to be here. Have you heard from Ben, my love? I pray every day that he is safe. Please give everyone there my love and take care of yourself. I can hardly wait until we are together again, and I am living for that day. Please write to me when you can and tell me all that’s going on at home.
Your loving husband,
Tom xxxxxx
Tears slid down Sunday’s cheeks as she folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. It sounded truly dreadful out there – and if what the papers were reporting was true, many of the young men who Tom had mentioned might never return to their families again. A cold finger crept up her spine as she offered up a silent prayer, asking God to keep Tom and Ben safe.
In London Miss Fox’s thoughts were also gloomy as she pored over the newspapers. She liked to keep abreast of what was happening in the war and read the papers from cover to cover every day now.
Ruby entered the room as she was still sitting there and asked brightly, ‘What are you looking so glum about, Foxy?’
Miss Fox raised an eyebrow. ‘In case you’d forgotten, we are at war. Isn’t that reason enough?’
Ruby waved her hand airily. ‘Oh, I swear you need something to worry about. How can what’s happening all that way away possibly affect us?’
‘There’s none so blind as those who will not see,’ Miss Fox said tightly. ‘I wonder if you’ll be singing the same tune if the Germans send those Zeppelin airships over here, emptying bombs on us. And there’s talk of their warships coming over here, and all. London will be a prime target, what with all the docks. Perhaps we should think of renting somewhere in the country till all this is over? We could do with somewhere smaller now anyway, now that you’re not earning. I’ve said it before and now I’ll say it again: if we had somewhere smaller, we wouldn’t need so many staff.’
Ruby had been preening in the gilt mirror that hung above the fireplace but now she turned, looking appalled. ‘Move from Brunswick Villa? Live in something smaller? Why ever would we want to do that?’
‘For all the reasons I’ve just stated – and because we have a young girl upstairs who needs protecting and looking out for. Surely you wouldn’t want to put Kitty at risk? In case you’ve forgotten, she’s your daughter – though no one would guess it, the way you treat her.’
Ruby’s face turned ugly as she placed her hands on her ample hips and glared back at the older woman.
‘First of all, we can still perfectly well afford to live here.’
‘How? If you’ve no money coming in?’ Miss Fox spat.
Ruby’s eyes sparked with malice. ‘Never you mind. It’s enough for you to know that we are very comfortable! And as for Kitty, how do you think she would react if we were to try and move her away from Richard? She’s totally besotted with him!’
‘True, I’ll agree with you there, but what bothers me is where all the money we need to stay here is coming from? These so-called modelling shoots he’s got her doing? There’s something fishy about those sessions if you ask me. Why don’t we ever see any pictures of her in the fashion magazines?’
‘Because she appears in magazines abroad,’ Ruby blustered, but she knew that Foxy could tell she was lying. The woman had always been able to read her like a book. And then when her companion continued to stare at her suspiciously Ruby lost her temper and waggled a finger at her. ‘How dare you question my care of my daughter! I think it might be a good idea if you remembered your place if you wish to continue living here. I could always get another maid, you know!’
Miss Fox visibly flinched as if she had been slapped, then drawing herself up to her full height she rasped, ‘You wouldn’t last two minutes without me behind you. Look at you! But at least I know where I stand now.’ With that she sailed from the room with what dignity she could muster.
Upstairs, Maggie and Kitty were discussing the war news too, oblivious to the row that had just taken place downstairs.
‘I nipped to the market yesterday,’ Maggie told Kitty conversationally as she dressed her friend’s hair. ‘And I was shocked to see how few young men there are about now. It’s frightening, isn’t it – to think what might happen to them, I mean. And it’s no wonder that they’ve closed most of the theatres and music halls down now. There aren’t that many young couples about any more.’
Kitty nodded. ‘Foxy was telling me that they’re digging trenches for the men to shelter in, in France, and they say the conditions they are existing in are appalling.’ Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tallulah disappearing off under her bed with yet another of her shoes then and she immediately chased after her. This was the second pair her puppy would have ruined in a week if she didn’t manage to rescue it.
‘Naughty girl,’ she scolded as she retrieved the shoe, undamaged this time, but she then followed up the telling-off with a kiss on Tallulah’s silky head. She loved the little dog unconditionally now and couldn’t imagine being without her no matter what damage she caused.
‘You spoil that dog,’ Maggie commented, although truthfully she was just as guilty of doing the very same thing.
‘That’s what you have dogs for, to spoil them,’ Kitty replied philosophically. For most of the time they avoided speaking of what happened on the nights she entertained Richard’s acquaintances now. Kitty knew how much it upset Maggie and tried to avoid the subject.
‘Do you think we might end up with certain things being rationed?’ she asked Maggie then.
Her friend nodded. ‘I can’t see how it can be avoided. Once the German warships start patrolling the British coast, lots of things that come in from abroad are not going to be able to get through, are they? I think clothing might be hard to find too. Most of the clothes factories have already pledged to sew uniforms for the forces for the duration of the war, so it stands to reason that there aren’t going to be so many fashionable outfits available in the shops.’
The girls lapsed into silence then, until Kitty took Tallulah down into the garden to see Arthur and have her usual runabout.
She found the lad in a sombre mood and asked, ‘Where’s that cheeky smile then? Is something wrong, Arthur?’
He looked up and bit his lip before admitting, ‘I’ve gone an’ upset me mum, though I didn’t intend to.’
‘Really? What have you done that’s so bad?’
‘I, err … I went and joined up yesterday an’ she’s bin cryin’ her eyes out.’
‘You did what?’ Kitty gasped. ‘But you aren’t old enough to enlist.’
‘I am … nearly,’ he answered sullenly. ‘I just told ’em a bit of a white lie about me age, that’s all. But a few months is neither here nor there, is it?’
‘Oh, Arthur.’ Kitty stared at him. He was at that curious age where he was neither a boy nor yet a man, but all arms and gangly legs, and Kitty felt almost as upset at his news as his mother was. She looked forward to seeing his happy smiling face each day and knew that she would miss him. Tallulah would too.
‘Is there no way you could get out of it?’ she asked then and he looked horrified at the suggestion.
‘I don’t want to get out of it, Miss Kitty. I want to go an’ fight for me King an’ Country,’ he told her with his chin in the air.
‘Then in that case I’m very proud of you – but promise me you’ll try to stay safe. It won’t be the same here without you and we’ll all look forward to you coming back a hero. When do you have to go?’
‘They’re sendin’ me for trainin’ next week,’ he informed her. ‘So today I shall have to go into the house an’ tell the missus I won’t be able to come any more after the end o’ this week.’
Kitty nodded. Despite Ruby’s loud protestations that the war would not affect them at Brunswick Villa, it appeared that it was doing so already.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Throughout August, Miss Fox continued to read the newspapers avidly. The British troops had been engaged in a bitter struggle alongside their French and Belgian comrades for the town of Mons, but despite their best efforts it was becoming clear that the fighting skills of their enemy were proving too much, and on 23 August the Allies began to retreat. There had been a great many casualties but the battle raged on in an ever-shifting line from Belgium in the north, to Alsace and Lorraine in the south. In under a month the Germans had swept over most of Belgium and crossed the Sambre and the Meuse, forcing the French to retreat to the Somme, the last barrier before Paris.
‘So much for it all being over by Christmas,’ Miss Fox sighed as she stared at the photographs of wounded soldiers in the paper. ‘If you ask me, this is only the beginning.’
‘Oh, stop being so pessimistic!’ Ruby said, her voice peevish as she studied her face in a hand mirror while plucking her eyebrows. ‘I’m more upset about the shortage of clothes in the shops. They’re getting hardly any new stock in – it’s all hands on deck for sewing uniforms for the troops. Of course, I understand that the men will need them – but what about the women who are left behind? Are we to walk around in our drab old things until this stupid war is over?’
The Little Angel Page 36