Daisychain Summer

  ‘I’ll tell her.’ Amelia put away her handkerchief, tears dried. Oh my word, yes, she would tell her!

  ‘And will you stay, Mrs Purvis, to hear what I have to say to your son?’ Amelia asked, when she was seated in the rocking chair in the bothy kitchen.

  ‘If you like, ma’am, though I hope the lad didn’t do anything wrong, at Pendenys. I know he was there this afternoon, but he said it was only to take back a cycle.’

  ‘Then I thank God he was, for whatever reason. And nothing is wrong – far from it.’ She rose, smiling, to her feet as Keth came into the room, holding out her hand to him. ‘Keth – you know what I am here for?’

  ‘I hope it’s to tell me that Bas is all right.’ He looked down at the floor.

  ‘Bas will be fine. They’ll keep him for about a week, they said – mainly because of his hands – and to keep an eye on his chest. But that isn’t what I came to say. It seems you didn’t tell your mother, Keth, that this afternoon you saved my boy’s life.’

  ‘No more did he!’ Polly’s face flushed bright red. ‘Said he came away and left it to the firemen. Said it was him raised the alarm, but that was all I was told!’

  ‘He raised the alarm and more besides, Mrs Purvis. He went into the tower and, because he couldn’t get into the room, he climbed along a ledge to get there.

  ‘And he brought Bas out, supporting him because his hands were useless, all the way along to the next window. My husband was waiting there to help and he saw it all. It was your son who risked his life getting to Bas and risked it again, bringing him safely out.’

  ‘Why, you daft young varmint! You could both of you been killed,’ Polly cried. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean that! It’s just that you don’t know what they’re getting up to when they’re out of your sight!’

  ‘You are right. Keth did act like a daft young varmint, and because he did, my son is alive tonight. Keth might even say that he didn’t think before he went in; perhaps he didn’t. But for all that, I owe him Bas’s life. How will I ever repay him?’

  ‘He don’t want repaying, do you, lad?’

  ‘Course I don’t. And I wasn’t frightened, Mrs Sutton, until we were both safe out of that tower. I was shaking all over, once we were down. But at the time all I could think was that I’d never live with myself if I didn’t try to help Bas. He’s my friend …’

  ‘Oh, I think I’m going to weep again.’ Amelia pulled an already damp handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed hastily at her eyes. Then she took a deep breath and said, ‘Forgive me, Keth, for saying this, but Kitty tells me you weren’t able to get a place at University.’

  ‘That’s right. I made a mess of it. I’ve accepted it, now. As a matter of fact, I realized how lucky I am to be alive after what happened today at Pendenys. I’ll survive, Mrs Sutton. It’s my mother you should be sorry for, her keeping me for so long when I could have been, should have been, working.’

  ‘I see. Then if I told you I would like to see you through University, pay your fees, you’d tell me you had changed your mind – that you no longer want to go?’

  ‘I didn’t say that!’ Keth’s eyes jerked upward to meet those of Amelia Sutton. ‘What I meant was that if I’d won a scholarship, it would have taken care of everything. I’d not have had to worry about books or lodgings. All that would have been paid for me.

  ‘But fees cost a lot – education isn’t cheap – and there’d be so many extras. No! I couldn’t let you do it, though I’m grateful for your thought.’

  ‘Not even when I tell you that the hospital doctor told me that what you did for Bas’s hands means that there’s a good chance he’ll be able to use them normally again? Think, Keth – Bas wants to take up animal husbandry. He couldn’t do it with crippled hands any more than he could sit a horse, hold the reins. His life would have been very different had you not known what to do.’

  ‘Mrs Dwerryhouse told me about burns a long time ago.’

  ‘Keth – please look at me? Look me in the eyes and tell me there is nothing on earth you’d like more than to go to University? But if your stiff-necked British pride won’t permit you to accept my gratitude, then why don’t you come over to Kentucky? Bas will be going to University next year – the two of you could go together. And in America a young man can work his way through college. There’s no shame in that, in my country. You could stay with us, during vacations, be a part of our family. And there’s always a job, at the Stud. We often give work to students.

  ‘Think about it, won’t you? Don’t prevent a mother showing her gratitude? Don’t you see – I might tonight be mourning my son’s death. Not every penny I nor his father possesses would have given him back to us. Can’t you be as glad as we are that Bas is alive and will soon be well, thanks to you? He couldn’t have got out of that room without you; he told us so. Please, Keth – at least don’t dismiss it out of hand? Think about it?’

  ‘He’ll think on about it,’ Polly whispered at the bothy door. ‘I’ll shake some sense into that head of his – after I’ve given him a good talking to about acting like a young fool!’

  ‘Then remember that every time I look at my son, I shall thank heaven for your young fool, Mrs Purvis. I meant what I said. I have always believed that if in life you receive a great favour, then you should do all in your power to pass on some of it. All I ask is that Keth won’t think of my offer as charity, and refuse it.

  ‘Speak very firmly to him, won’t you? And tell him my husband intends seeing him tomorrow to thank him, too. If only you knew how grateful we both are …’

  ‘I’ll speak to the lad, never fear. Now can you find your way to Rowangarth, Mrs Sutton? It’s getting dark. Shall I come with you? I know the path better’n you do.’

  ‘Thank you, no. I can manage. They’ll be waiting for news of Bas and Kitty is still there. I can telephone from there for a car to take us home.

  ‘Goodnight, Mrs Purvis.’ She held out her hand. ‘We’d be glad to have Keth come to Kentucky. We’d take good care of him – if you can spare him, that is.’

  Polly stood in the doorway, listening to the receding footsteps, wondering why all at once she felt so churned up inside.

  ‘You daft young beggar!’ she gasped as she closed the kitchen door behind her. ‘Didn’t you think on before you went rushing in?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. And you’re right. I was a daft young beggar. But no more heroics, I promise.’

  ‘I should think not! And lad – you’ll take Mrs Amelia up on her offer?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mum. It’s charity, whichever way you look at it, and I’ve got my pride.’

  ‘Idiot! It isn’t charity; more a thanksgiving on her part. And you can throw your precious pride down the drain! Pride is a cold companion and it never yet filled empty bellies!

  ‘Mr Albert’ll be coming tomorrow to see you, so like as not he’ll tell you that the offer still stands. And you’ll tell him you’ll accept, and thank him kindly.’

  ‘I’d like to go to America – I’ve got to admit it. They aren’t so stuck up, there, so class conscious. Bas said that in the United States a man gets credit for what he does and not for what his father is, like in England. Nobody is expected to tip his cap in Kentucky, he said.’

  ‘Then think on about what Mrs Amelia said? I want you to.’

  ‘Even though you mightn’t see me for two, maybe three years? You wouldn’t miss me?’

  ‘Of course I’d miss you, but you can put pen to paper, can’t you? They have postage stamps in America, don’t they? Now get yourself off to bed. I’ll bring you a drink up. And son –’

  ‘Yes, Mum?’ He paused in the doorway.

  ‘Your dad would have been proud of you this day. Real proud!’

  33

  ‘Of course, it would all start to happen, just as we’re leaving for home,’ Amelia complained.

  It. The King’s great affair, some called it, though others were not so polite. But happening it was, with the Press so long gagged having the
ir day, together with the entire population.

  ‘Surely not a divorcee? Not for the King of England,’ said some. ‘The ruler of the Empire and Commonwealth must abide by the rules!’

  On the other hand, there were those who said that if the King had got some of the muck of the trenches on his boots, then happen he’d have earned the right to wed where he pleased!

  Rumours were two a penny. She had not only stayed at Balmoral with the King, but had had the cheek to sleep in Queen Victoria’s bed!

  But She hadn’t had it all her own way, by all accounts, having been thoroughly snubbed at a dinner party by the Duchess of York. Looked right through her, the little duchess had, as if the woman weren’t there at all!

  ‘One in the eye for Wallis,’ Amelia had sighed with delight, she being totally opposed to divorce and not best pleased when one of her fellow countrymen was making a laughing stock of America by acting like a gold-digger. Marry the English King, indeed, and That One on her second divorce!

  ‘She thinks she can be Queen of England, you know, and he’s so bewitched by her he’ll have a darn good try at getting her crowned! He won’t be able to marry the woman, will he?’

  ‘I doubt it, Amelia. She’ll never be accepted as queen. It would have to be a morganatic marriage, with no title nor claim to the throne, and that’s not what she wants, it seems, nor the King, either!’

  ‘So what’ll he do? Give her up?’

  ‘I don’t know. He ought to.’ Helen stirred her tea thoughtfully. ‘I believe – and I had this from the sister of one who works in the Foreign Office – that the Dominions are completely opposed to the King marrying her. I heard they’d all made it quite plain to Mr Baldwin.’

  ‘Hmm. It’s come to something when even the bookmakers are offering odds – will she, won’t she? Might be worth a small bet …’

  ‘Amelia! You wouldn’t!’

  ‘Too darn right I wouldn’t. But it’s going to make interesting reading now your newspapers are finally on to it. One thing is certain. Your king is going to have to make up his mind before the Coronation – next May, isn’t it? – whether he wants the lady or the crown. Guess he can’t have both.’

  ‘I think,’ said Helen carefully, ‘that he will choose duty. He’ll give her up. Or he’ll probably have it announced that she has given him up. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do, of course.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ Divorce was a dirty word. Rather have a gambler in the family, a gaol bird, even, than a divorcee. ‘My, but it’s been quite a visit. Albert’ll be glad to get back to Kentucky.’

  Clementina laid to her rest beside Elliot; the gutted tower demolished, Bas out of hospital and day by day his hands healing, growing more supple.

  The Kentucky Suttons were returning on the liner Normandie, which promised great excitement for its passengers since the French were all set to break the Queen Mary’s record for the fastest crossing of the Atlantic and claim the Blue Ribband.

  ‘It’ll be quite something,’ Amelia smiled. ‘They’ll really be steaming. I do wish you’d visit us in Kentucky, Helen. You’d surely be welcome. Just telegraph that you’re coming and we’ll roll out the red carpet.’

  ‘I’ve never visited America …’ Helen mused.

  ‘Then there’s no time like the present. Come for Thanksgiving – that’s the fourth Thursday in November – and stay over. You could return home with us when we come for Christmas.’

  ‘You still intend coming as usual?’

  ‘We must. Father-in-law is on his own, now. He’ll be lonely in that great house when he gets over the shock. Nathan is near of course, and Rowangarth, but I’ve told Bertie he mustn’t neglect his father.’

  ‘You’re a good soul, Amelia.’

  ‘I’m a contented woman, and when I think we could well have been going back to Kentucky without Bas – well, I’ve been counting my blessings a lot, these last few weeks. Bas is so lucky to be alive and well. Guess I’ll have to watch myself and not spoil him too much.

  ‘Ah, well, I’ll telephone you tomorrow before we leave. Say goodbye to Julia for me?’

  ‘I will.’ Helen laid a cheek on Amelia’s, making a little moue with her mouth. ‘Godspeed, my dear, and a safe landfall.’

  ‘Thanks. And you’ll let me know if anything happens – you know what I mean – anything in the newspapers or magazines. They’ll want to know back in Kentucky how Wallis is doing, now she’s made her bid to grab your king. Send them airmail, Helen? They’ll take no time at all, that way!’

  When Amelia had left, Helen thought long and hard about the King’s problem, with the Dominions and Empire – nay, the entire world – waiting impatiently for the next act in the drama. She hoped His Majesty would make the right decision, but sometimes she doubted that he would. It was all very upsetting.

  ‘You’re sure you don’t mind, Polly? Sure you can spare the time?’

  ‘My time, Mrs MacMalcolm, is paid for by Rowangarth and you are providing the ingredients, so if I can’t bake a few apple pies for a good cause, then it’s a poor look on.’

  At last, however briefly, the people of Holdenby had something other than the King’s indiscretion to talk about. The Marchers were coming; men from Jarrow, tramping the length of the country to beg Parliament for work.

  ‘It is a good cause, Polly. Andrew would have wanted me to help.’

  Andrew’s father had been a miner and a sick one at that. Andrew, had he lived, would have considered it his duty to help those men on their way.

  ‘Alice is baking bread and making soup and Rowangarth is providing sandwiches and more soup – we should do pretty well for food, though it’s a pity they’ll have to sleep on the floor.’

  ‘Pity they ever had to make the march in the first place! Going all that way just to ask for work! And most of those men saw service in the trenches! Not much of a deal for them, was it? Makes me glad, sometimes, that Dickon didn’t live to see what he fought for!’

  ‘Don’t say that, Polly? Never say that? You know you don’t mean it?’

  ‘No, ma’am, I don’t. There’s times, even though he wasn’t a well man, I’d give all I own to have him back. Sometimes I miss him so it hurts something cruel. Just to know he’d be coming through that door tonight would be right grand, even though he wasn’t always in the best of moods because of the pain.’

  ‘I know. I’m a widow, too. It’s why I want to help the Marchers – because they are Andrew’s kind of people. He would want me to.’

  ‘Then I’ll bake the pies, and gladly. When will you want them?’

  ‘Day after tomorrow. That’s when they’re expected. And thanks, Polly. Mother is going round with a collection tin. She’s trying to get fifty pounds.’

  ‘That’s a terrible lot of money! Who’s she going to give it to?’

  ‘It’s for the Marchers’ fund. They’re all men on the dole, but they forfeited their dole money by going on the march, you see. The authorities at Jarrow said that men who draw unemployment money most always be available and ready to be employed, and by being on a march, they’ve made themselves unavailable.’

  ‘That’s downright wicked!’ Polly dipped into her pinafore pocket and offered a florin. ‘Here – give this to her ladyship. Only wish it could be more.’

  ‘Thank you, Polly. Mother will raise the money, I’m sure of it. She’s already bullied forty pounds out of the family though she says she hates asking in the village. But Holdenby people will give willingly, I know. There isn’t so much unemployment hereabouts, you see. Not like on Tyneside.’

  ‘It’s a queer carry-on, isn’t it, Mrs MacMalcolm? Germany rearming, war in Spain and the King disgracing us with a married woman. It’s a sad world for our young ones to be growing up in.’

  ‘It is. And talking about the young ones – Daisy told me about Keth going to America. He will go to Kentucky next year?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Polly pushed back her chair as Julia rose to leave. ‘He wants to go to Unive
rsity; it’s all he’s ever thought about, but it’s his pride, you see.’

  ‘Then tell him from me that pride will get him nowhere. Amelia really wants to help Keth through college. Can’t you knock some sense into his head?’

  ‘He’s a mite too big for that. I’d have to stand on a stool, now, to box his ears!’ Polly laughed, opening the bothy door. ‘But when Mrs Sutton comes over for Christmas, I think he’ll ask her if he can take her up on her offer. Keth can be a bit stubborn at times, but he’s not so stupid as to throw away a second chance. And I’ll get him to bring the pies round on Wednesday. About noon, shall us say?’

  ‘About noon, Polly …’

  ‘Here you are, mother. Two shillings from Polly, ten shillings from Alice and Daisy, and Tom has given money for cigarettes for the men. How is your collection coming along?’

  ‘I’ve made it, Julia – and more! About fifty-three pounds. People are so good. Perhaps we could use the surplus for a few comforts for the men – cigarettes, matches, mints …?

  ‘They’d like that. All along the march, people have helped them, you know. Even if the government won’t listen to them when they get to London, at least those men will know they have the sympathy of the people.’

  ‘It makes me very proud of my fellow men,’ Helen smiled. ‘And it makes me aware of how very comfortable we are at Rowangarth, compared to most. It makes me feel guilty, almost, spending so much money on a passage to New York.’

  ‘You’ve decided to visit Amelia and Albert, then?’

  ‘We-e-ll, almost. I have never seen the New World and Amelia is keen for me to go.’

  ‘You wouldn’t consider flying?’

  ‘Goodness, no! It could be very dangerous, flying in November and December – the fogs, you know. Thanksgiving day goes back more than three hundred years, I believe, to when the early settlers gave thanks for their first harvest. Rather nice, I think.’

  ‘Then you must go, dearest. You’d have a wonderful time. Amelia would make you so welcome and you know you’re fond of her.’