But Skye knew the sense of Sister Bell’s words, and she made proper use of her leisure time with the other nurses, and went to bed as early as she could, knowing she would be all the stronger for it.
And then came two letters that changed everything.
* * *
“Your grandmother is seriously ill, Skye,” Theo wrote. “There’s no way I can dress it up in fancy phrases, but it seems very doubtful that she’ll last another winter. Personally I doubt that she’ll last the summer, but that’s between you and me. I tell you this, because she asks for you constantly. She’s dependent on Nurse Jenkins for her physical needs now, and Birdie dotes on her.
“But it’s you she needs and wants more than she wants the rest of us, and I say that without rancour. She’s grown closer to you than anyone else in the family, partly because you’re so much like her beloved Primmy, but also because of who you are. I’m not given to flowery speeches, Skye, as my wife well knows, and I don’t intend to start now.
“It seems to us that you’re the only one who can make your grandmother’s last weeks or months less harrowing, and for that I suggest that you apply for an extended leave at the very least. If she can only see you for a week or two it will mean so much to her.
“Talk to the harridans at the hospital, and see what you can do. And, since we know that your fiancé has now been transferred to a serviceman’s hospital in Truro, you would be able to visit him as well.”
He signed it, formal as ever – “Your cousin, Theo.”
To mention Philip was moral blackmail, of course, but Skye couldn’t deny the thought of being close to him was tempting as she read the gist of the letter. The other one was from Morwen’s doctor.
“Your cousin has asked me to add my thoughts to his, Miss Tremayne, and there’s no doubt that Mrs Wainwright has gone into a decline in these last few months. She is asking for you constantly, which is very wearing on the rest of the household at New World, as you can imagine. Her mind wanders, and sometimes she seems to think you are in the room, and her reaction is pitiful when she discovers you are not.”
There was more of the same, and by the end of it, Skye was alarmed and upset. And enraged at the way these two seemed to be ganging up on her. It was her moral duty to stay here where she was useful to so many… and it was just as much her moral duty to go home and care for her grandmother. Her mother would expect it.
In the end she sought out the advice of the hospital chaplain. She showed him both letters, and explained the situation. Since she assumed he was bound by his own moral code, she also told him that she and Philip were married, even though it was obvious that Morwen had respected her wishes, and not told the rest of the family.
‘Go home, my dear,’ the chaplain said at once. ‘You’ve done more than your duty here, and there will always be others to take your place. In your grandmother’s eyes, and in your husband’s, no one else can ever do that.’
‘Is that truly what you think?’ she said, her eyes larger than ever in the face that had grown considerably thinner.
‘It’s what every sane person would think. And if it will help, why don’t we say a prayer together?’
‘I’m not a religious person,’ Skye mumbled.
‘But you came to me, and I turn no one away, any more than God does,’ he said simply.
She allowed him to say a short prayer, thinking that he and Uncle Luke were poles apart in the way they expressed their faith. This man had seen the very worst degradations of humanity, had heard men screaming and blaspheming against the very God he served, and yet he still had faith. It was the most humbling moment of her life to realise it.
There was no doubt that Sister Bell and the higher authorities at the hospital agreed with the chaplain’s advice. It took relatively little time and effort to get the papers signed that released Skye from all duties at the hospital, and by the end of that summer in 1917, she was on her way back to England in a hospital ship, feeling as if all the stuffing had been knocked out of her.
But, undoubtedly, as the white cliffs of Dover came into view in the misty morning, there was a soaring feeling of jubilation in her heart as well. She had failed no one, and even though she was going home because of Morwen’s frailty, she was gong home to Philip too.
No matter how long this interminable war stretched on, there would be time for them to get to know one another all over again. They could reveal their relationship proudly, instead of having clandestine meetings in a foreign country.
To Skye, the future suddenly looked full of hope.
* * *
The hospital ship spent several hours at Dover discharging the men going to south-east hospitals and on to the north. They would all wear the honourable blue uniforms of the wounded in action, the uniform which Skye assumed that Philip now wore. From recent letters, she gathered that his recuperation was taking longer than they had expected, and he was angry and frustrated because of it, so she was anxious to see for herself that he was improving.
The ship continued along the south coast until it finally reached Falmouth, and Skye had such a feeling of déjà vu as it sailed into the great natural estuary, with the twin castles of Pendennis and St Mawes on either side of that great stretch of water, that she was filled with raw emotion. This is home, she thought, this is where I belong.
‘Cornwall’s never looked so beautiful, has it, Miss?’ she heard one stretcher-bound soldier say beside her.
She turned to smile at him and agree with him, and then saw that his eyes were tightly bandaged. He could see nothing, but he still registered that Cornwall was beautiful. That the sun was sparkling on the water, and the sky was a cerulean blue, and the green of summer was burgeoning all around them as they neared land.
By now the open moors would be richly scented with wild flowers and bracken and golden gorse, and the Killigrew sky-tips would be gleaming with diamond-bright minerals in the sunlight.
‘I know I ain’t seeing none of it right now, till they fix me eyes,’ the soldier went on confidently. ‘But ’tis all there in me mind, Miss, and no Hun can take that away from me, can he?’
‘That’s right, soldier,’ she said softly, swallowing the lump in her throat as the orderly attending him shook his head at the man’s words, affirming that he had seen all he was ever going to of England’s green and pleasant land.
They were so brave, all of them, Skye thought with a passion. Heroes, every damn one of them. And they wouldn’t give you a red cent for telling them so.
Chapter Thirteen
Even in the middle of a war, life went on. Businesses continued to thrive or went under; people got married and babies were born; and old folk died… but thankfully, as far as Skye was concerned, her arrival home from France seemed to have given Morwen a new lease of life. So much so, that she even began to suspect it had all been a ruse on her grandmother’s part to get her back. Birdie assured her it wasn’t so.
‘Though if you’d seen her a coupla months back, you wouldn’t have thought she’d live to see the next morning,’ Birdie confided. ‘She was near to expiring many times, and the doctor and Nurse Jenkins will bear me out on that.’
‘Oh, I’m not doubting what you say, Birdie,’ Skye said hastily, before the companion began to get ruffled. ‘I’m just thankful that the worst seems to be over.’
‘Aye well, let’s keep our fingers crossed on that until the winter’s over, and spring’s here again. ’Tis a good job the Cornish winters are so mild, and the doctor says that providing she stays in out of the damp, all will be well. And she’ll not want you constantly fussing over her, mind, ’specially with the young ’un’s party coming up. She’ll not miss that, nor thank you for saying she should.’
‘I wouldn’t dare,’ said Skye with a grin.
It had been arranged that Sebastian Walter Jordan should be christened on Christmas afternoon. His great-uncle Luke would perform the ceremony and there would be a family celebration at Killigrew House, combining the Christmas
festivities with naming the heir to Killigrew Clay.
* * *
Skye and Philip walked slowly around the grounds of the Truro hospital in which he was still slowly recuperating. It had taken far longer than anyone had anticipated, months instead of weeks, and only now was he starting to come out of the mental trauma his head and chest injuries had produced. And as yet, none of the family in Cornwall, save Granny Morwen, knew that they were married.
However foolish and poignant it seemed to Skye at times, they had reluctantly decided it was for the best. Philip needed time to face a normal life again. The mental scars he had suffered went deeper than the physical ones, and Skye was anxious to put no undue pressure on him, even while she longed to be with her husband and to feel properly married, and to proudly wear the wedding ring she kept on a chain around her neck inside her everyday clothes.
Sometimes, she admitted uneasily to herself that the marriage ceremony seemed more like a dream than reality. The times they spent together in one anothers’ arms, so few, and so precious now, still seemed like the clandestine reunions of lovers… and in some ways she was superstitious enough to keep it that way.
The marriage had been her talisman, her secret, and once a secret was told… she couldn’t explain herself properly, but she knew that Philip couldn’t cope with any fuss, or questions, or scandalised family discussions. Besides, if it was a case of keeping their heads in the sand until they both felt able to cope with the barrage of gossip it would produce, it was their choice.
‘How grand Theo’s formal christening card looks!’ Skye said to Philip now, after showing the gilt-edged card to him.
‘It has every reason to. The boy is the natural heir to the clayworks after all, and Theo is justifiably proud of that fact, so it should look grand,’ Philip replied to her comment now, leaning heavily on a walking-stick with one hand, and with her hand through his other arm, supporting him. ‘Your family has a fine tradition behind it, and the children who come after should never forget it.’
‘And what of our children, Philip? Will they go into the family business, do you suppose? Will they be clayers, or will they be celebrated potters – if the new venture ever comes to fruition, of course?’
She spoke lightly, hardly daring to mention children at all, for it was so long since they had touched on so personal a subject. She was almost frightened to recall now how long it was since they had made love, or had the opportunity, or the inclination, at least, on Philip’s part, and for all her fiery spirit, she was not yet brave enough to question it.
There would be time enough for loving when he was well and strong, she thought fervently, and if more than a fleeting shadow of unease crossed her mind as she thought it, she dismissed it quickly. Of course that time would come…
‘They must be whatever they choose, because I’ve always thought children should find their own way in the world, and not be dictated to by their parents,’ he told her, in what she privately thought of as his pompous lecturer’s voice. She was sure it worked fine with his students, but sometimes it irritated her so much. She kept her voice even as she answered.
‘Doesn’t that rather undermine the heredity angle? As I understand it, my family fought tooth and nail to keep Killigrew Clay alive, so don’t you think their descendants have a duty to continue that fine tradition you spoke of?’
She knew she was trying to provoke him into as passionate a discussion as they used to have, when they could thrash out any topic, no matter how controversial and come out laughing at the end of it. But once he had put his own views across, Philip seemed less inclined to have a healthy argument these days, and it alarmed her.
‘I daresay everything will sort itself out, and those days are a long way off yet, Skye. I doubt that Theo will be thinking of sending his child out to work just yet.’
She supposed he intended it as a humorous remark, and if so, it was the first glimmer of it she had seen in him for a while. It depressed her that it was so laboured. They had always laughed together, and had fun together, and suddenly Philip seemed so much older, so serious and remote from the lover she yearned for.
Still feeling the frustration of it, she confided some of her feelings to her grandmother that evening as she made her habitual visit to Morwen’s bedroom to bid her goodnight.
‘I feel as if I hardly know him any more. He’s changed, and everything’s different now.’
‘You’ve changed too, lamb. So has everyone who was ever involved in a war. None of us stay the same, however much we’d like to. You must give him time to recover mentally as well as physically, and you’ve said as much often enough—’
‘But how much time does it take?’ Skye burst out. ‘It’s been months now, and I want him back. I want my—’
She felt her face burn, knowing what was in her heart and trembling on her lips at that moment. I want my husband and my lover back. She turned her face away, but she felt Morwen’s hand cover hers for a moment.
‘I know what you want, dar, and I know what you’re missing. But I promise you, it will all come right if you’re patient a little longer.’
Skye spoke restlessly, hardly heeding the words as her thoughts raced on. ‘I keep wondering just how stupid we’ve been in not telling the family we’re married. The longer it goes on, the more bizarre it will seem when the truth comes out, and what’s the sense in putting it off for some mythical proper time? How can there be a proper time? Everything feels such a muddle in my head. You know, sometimes it feels as if it will burst!’
‘I can only tell you that you’ll know when the time is right, my love,’ Morwen said. ‘Perhaps at the boy’s christening…’
Skye shook her head vigorously. ‘You know very well Theo wouldn’t thank me for spoiling his son’s special day, Gran. No, it will have to wait until later, and until Philip is ready. If he ever is, that is.’
She looked down at her hands, held loosely in her lap now, feeling sheer misery wash over her.
‘Now you listen to me, Skye,’ her grandmother said, suddenly sharper. ‘If you think this little trip-up in your married life is going to mean the end of it, then you don’t have as much Tremayne spirit in you as I think you have. And you’ve been doubly blessed with that, on your Mammie’s and your Daddy’s side, so don’t let me see that drooping face one minute longer, or I’ll start to wonder if you came into my room to cheer me up or depress me.’
The effort of such a long speech started her wheezing and coughing, and Skye was instantly contrite. Here she was, moaning and groaning over her own problems, when the fiery Morwen Tremayne had overcome far more desperate ones than these in her long life, and suffered more heartaches too.
Once the paroxysm was over, Skye kissed her grandmother’s creased cheek.
‘Thank you for putting me in my place,’ she said humbly. ‘You always do me good, and Mom told me more than once how you always found the right words to say. I bet you didn’t know that Philip reckons I got my writing talent from you too.’
‘Did he now? Then he’s not as green as he’s cabbage-looking, is he?’ Morwen said, chuckling at Skye’s blank look. ‘It’s a tease, my love, a Cornish bit of nonsense. And for what it’s worth, I always thought he was the only man to hold a candle to you.’
‘It’s worth a lot for me to know it,’ Skye murmured, and went to bed, a mite less disturbed than before.
* * *
The Christmas celebrations turned out to be more joyful for Skye than she could have imagined. The family gathered at the church for Sebastian’s christening as planned, and then they all decamped to Killigrew House for the evening dinner and present-giving. Some of them would be staying overnight, including Morwen and Skye, and Philip too. And he had the best present ever to give to his wife.
‘They’re discharging me from hospital next week, and the hospital folk have found me some rooms in Truro. The college bursar has been to see me, and if I feel up to it, I’m starting back to work on a part-time basis in a couple of week
s’ time.’
‘That’s absolutely wonderful,’ she said, hugging him, her eyes shining. And doing her best to hide her miffed feeling too, that all this had been happening without her knowing any of it. If they had known she was his wife, it would presumably have been so different.
But to all intents and purposes, she was only a fiancée, and the engagement had been so long-lasting, the family must be speculating among themselves if that was all it was ever going to be.
‘Philip, shouldn’t we tell them about us soon?’ she urged him under cover of the general merriment at the house. ‘Not now, of course, with Sebastian holding court like a disgusting little princeling, but soon?’
He kissed her cheek. ‘Let me get used to these new arrangements first, darling,’ he said. ‘After all this time away from teaching I feel as if I’m being thrown to the wolves, but of course I’ll want you to see my rooms, and help me choose some curtains and womanly things like that.’
She suddenly realised how nervous he was. It certainly wasn’t Philip’s style to be referring to her choices as womanly things, nor to think that domestic doings were going to be of paramount importance to her. He was being thrown to the wolves, and she had to let him do things at his own pace, however frustrated it left her. But since he intended renting rooms outside the college, she could visit him frequently.
In that alone, it would be like old times, the way it used to be… and she was full of optimism as she raised her glass to the appallingly spoiled infant who was now puking all over the silk-covered sofa to his parents’ indulgent smiles.
And much later, to her incredible joy and surprise, she sensed that her door handle was being turned during the silent hours of the night. She held her breath for a moment, and then she felt her beloved slide into bed beside her, and Philip’s arms were holding her as close as she had ever dreamed of him holding her all these long, lonely months.
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