by Posy Lovell
“She is coping,” Ivy pointed out. “I’m just worried she’s so sad.”
“It’s not been long. It will get easier for her,” Louisa said. “Teddy says there are days now when he doesn’t think of Philip as much. But there are also times when something reminds him of his son so sharply it’s as painful as it was when he was first killed. It’s unpredictable. That’s why we just need to be there for her.”
Ivy had shuddered at the thought of people getting used to living without their loved ones.
November had arrived, bringing with it frosty mornings and dark evenings. With things much calmer down on the farm, Louisa was planning to visit Bernie the following weekend, so she’d come round to visit Ivy and Win to see if there was anything they wanted her to take. With a drawing of Kew in autumn by Ivy in her bag, she was staying for tea.
“Can you read to us this evening?” Ivy asked as the two went back into the lounge, where Win was sitting by the fire. Louisa, enjoying the Ramsays’ bookshelves, had taken to reading to her friends when she visited. They were halfway through Jane Eyre and Ivy was enjoying it enormously.
“You could learn to read it yourself,” Louisa said. Ivy had given up trying to learn once Bernie had gone. She just didn’t have the heart.
“I don’t want to.”
Win looked up. “I could teach you.”
“Really?”
“I’m not a teacher like your Bernie was, but we might be able to muddle through together. What do you think?”
“I’d like that.”
Win put her glasses on.
“How much can you read?” she said. “What words do you know?”
She picked up the newspaper, which was on the side table next to her, and held it up to Ivy.
“Can you read this headline?”
Ivy glanced at it. There were a few words she recognized.
“It’s about the Front,” she said.
“What about it?”
Ivy tried to read the words, but her eyes had filled with tears.
“It’s something about gas,” she said. “Are they using more gas on our soldiers, Win?”
Win turned the newspaper round to look at the story and then quickly folded it up and put it away.
“No, no,” she said. “Nothing like what happened at Ypres, you mustn’t worry.”
But Ivy saw Win exchange a worried look with Louisa and her heart pounded with fear.
“What?” she said. “What’s happening? Is Jim in danger? He’s in France.”
Louisa put her arm round Ivy and held her tightly.
“Jim’s fine,” she said calmly. “You know he’s fine because you hear from him all the time, don’t you? He sent you those poppy seeds. He’s fine.”
But panic was rising in Ivy’s chest.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know he’s fine.”
Win looked alarmed.
“Darling, I know how you feel. I used to feel awful whenever I read news from the war, worrying about Archie . . .”
“And the worst happened,” Ivy cried. “Archie was lost.”
“But there’s no reason to think something’s happened to Jim, no reason at all,” Win said.
Ivy took a breath. “There is a reason,” she said.
Win’s face went white and Louisa squeezed Ivy tighter.
“What’s happened?” she said. “What haven’t you told us?”
“He’s not written for weeks. Not since he sent those poppy seeds.”
Louisa frowned as she tried to remember. “But that was, what? The start of October?”
“End of September,” Ivy whispered. “It was five weeks and three days ago.” Who had she been fooling, pretending she wasn’t counting?
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Win said, then she nodded. “Because of Archie? You didn’t want to upset me, while I’ve been grieving for Archie.”
Ivy gave her a small smile. “I felt awful, worrying about what might have happened to Jim while you’ve been dealing with what really has happened to Archie.”
“Oh, darling, you silly girl,” Win said. “You should never dampen your own feelings to protect mine. Never.”
Louisa had been thinking. “It’s autumn in France, too. Maybe there aren’t any flowers for him to send?”
Ivy jumped on this tiny bit of hope. “Maybe.” But then the despair came back. “But there are trees, surely? Or he could write to me, knowing Louisa would read it for me, if he had nothing to send.”
There was silence as all three women racked their brains for a good reason why Ivy had not heard from her sweetheart.
“You’ve been sending drawings and cuttings to him as usual?”
“I have. I send something every few days. I can’t bear for him to think I’m not worried about him.”
Louisa bit her lip and again, Ivy watched as she and Win glanced at each other. What were they thinking? Did they think the worst?
Despite her best efforts at holding back the tears, she started to cry.
“I’m so worried that something’s happened to him. Has he been gassed? Could he be lying dead in the mud somewhere? I can’t get it out of my head, the idea that he’s dead.”
“Hush,” soothed Louisa, gathering Ivy into her embrace like a child. Win came over and sat on her other side, one hand on her arm, letting her know she was there.
After a little while, Win spoke. “You may not want to hear this,” she said, “but they’d tell you if something had happened. Reading that telegram was the worst moment of my life, but at least I know for sure.”
But Ivy shook her head. “They wouldn’t tell me, though, would they? They’d tell Jim’s mum.”
“She’d tell you, Ivy. She wouldn’t leave you in the dark.” Louisa’s face was serious. “Would she?”
Ivy shrugged. “Dunno. She’s always been really nice to me, but she might not even live in London anymore. I don’t know.”
“Perhaps we should pay her a visit?” Louisa suggested. “Just to be sure.”
Ivy nodded. “There’s something else,” she whispered.
“What?”
Ivy got up and went to the sideboard, where she’d left her sketchbook, then she sat down on the settee again, leafing through it until she found the right page.
“This is the letter I’m getting ready to send Jim. I’m planning to post it tomorrow, but I thought I should show you first.” She breathed in deeply. “Because you need to know this, too.”
She opened the page she’d marked with her finger and showed them a small bunch of dried white flowers. Tiny blooms with delicate edges.
“I pressed these ages ago, before Jim went away,” she said. “I never dreamed I would need them one day.”
Win leaned over to get a better look.
“Gypsophila?” she said. “What does that symbolize?”
But Louisa was one step ahead, looking for all the world as though Ivy’s flowers had confirmed something she already knew. “It’s baby’s breath. That’s what some people call it, isn’t it?”
Ivy couldn’t look at her. Instead, she stared at the sketchbook on her lap and simply nodded.
“Ivy, are you expecting? Are you expecting Jim’s baby?”
A fat tear rolled down Ivy’s cheek. She didn’t brush it away; instead she let her hands drift down to her stomach, cradling the baby she now knew was growing inside.
“I am.”
She forced her gaze up to meet Louisa’s and then Win’s, frightened she was going to see judgment in their eyes. Instead, she just saw love and sympathy and kindness—and that made her cry even more.
“I don’t know what to do,” she sobbed. “I don’t know what to do.”
Louisa took one of Ivy’s hands and Win took the other.
“We are going to wo
rk it all out together,” Louisa said. “It’s all going to be fine, you’ll see.”
Ivy let her head drop onto Louisa’s shoulder, feeling so grateful for her support that she could burst. Yet she couldn’t quite believe what her friend was saying. She was unmarried, expecting a baby, and she hadn’t heard from the baby’s father in weeks. Lord only knew what Mac would say when he found out—or her mother. She shuddered at the thought of anyone finding out her shameful secret and wanted to scream in misery at even the idea of Jim dying on a battlefield in France, never knowing he was going to be a father.
“It’s all going to be fine,” Louisa said again. But Ivy just shook her head. She didn’t think anything was going to be fine, ever again.
Chapter 25
I’m at a loss as to what to do for the best,” Louisa told Teddy as they traveled down to Kent the next day on the train. “Ivy’s so sad—she’s just fallen apart. She and Win are giving each other a lot of comfort, and we’ve promised her we’re going to stand by her. But it’s not going to be easy.”
Teddy took her hand, sending warm waves of pleasure up her arm.
“I don’t think anything is easy right now,” he said. “But I think Ivy is lucky to have you and Win.”
Louisa let her head rest on his shoulder. She felt like the lucky one, to have met Teddy at a time when she thought she would never find love. Their courtship was slow but steady, because they had both been so wary at first. They’d both suffered losses and terrible heartaches, but they found strength in each other and Louisa thought the world of this sad, gentle, kind man. She wasn’t sure what would happen or where things would go; after all, she was still legally married to Reg. But she found that didn’t matter to her, not really. Instead, she was living for each day as it came, enjoying Teddy’s company and making the most of the time they had together. That was why he’d come with her to Kent; she didn’t want to spend a weekend away from him, and by the haste in which he’d agreed to accompany her, it seemed he felt the same.
Of course, she felt slightly nervous that Reg could show up, but Bernie and Matthew had both assured her that he was still down in Folkestone with his stern sister.
Matthew met them at the station, in the horse and cart that after all her time in London seemed old-fashioned to Louisa. Old-fashioned, but familiar and comforting. She introduced Teddy, and Matthew eyed him cautiously, until Teddy commented that he’d spent a few summers on a hops farm as a child and suddenly they were the best of friends.
Louisa chuckled to herself as they trip-trapped through the lanes toward the farm. Men really were the simplest of creatures.
“Bernie sounds to have settled in,” she said as they approached her old home, and Matthew nodded eagerly.
“I can’t lie, I was a bit alarmed when I first saw him,” he said with a laugh. “With his hair all over the place, and that funny bandy-legged walk he’s got. I thought, ‘Blimey, what’s Lou landed me with?’”
Louisa grinned. “But?”
“But he’s such a fast learner and he’s really interested, you know? He’s been doing loads of reading about yields and how to maximize the use of the land, and coming up with ways to make more money from the crops. He’s a proper asset.”
He paused to swing the cart round a corner, then continued: “Jenny thinks he’s wonderful, and the children adore him. He’s been teaching Lettie her alphabet.”
“And he’s sleeping in the barn?”
“He was, but Jenny’s cleaned out the old boot room for him. He’s got a bed in there now, and it’s next to the kitchen, so it’s warmer. Looks like being a nasty winter.”
Louisa nodded. She and the Kew Gardens Girls had already discussed the awful weather they’d been having—though today was a rare dry day—and agreed the same.
“I’m pleased it’s working out,” she said. “And Mum and Dad? Are they all right?”
“Same as ever,” he said. “They like the cottage, though Mum spends most of her time helping Jenny anyway.”
Their parents had moved out of the large farmhouse, to let Matthew, Jenny and the children make it their home now that Matthew did most of the work on the farm. They lived in a cottage nearby and Louisa would be seeing them today for the first time since she’d left. Her letters to her mother had gone a long way toward easing the tension between them but she was still nervous about seeing her parents in the flesh.
Matthew turned the cart into the entrance to the farm, and there by the farmhouse was Jenny—looking a little older but still with the same broad smile that Louisa remembered and with a plump toddler on her hip. Two older children chased each other in circles round her feet, and Louisa’s parents were sitting on a bench at the front of the house. Suddenly, all her nerves disappeared. Matthew slowed the cart, but before it had come to a complete halt, Louisa was jumping out and rushing over to her mother and father. There were hugs and some tears and lots of apologies on both sides as they all tried to say everything that they could to make right the distance between them.
Eventually, Louisa became aware of Jenny and Teddy and the children all standing awkwardly to one side, and she stood back, wiping her eyes.
“Everyone, this is my friend, Edward Armitage. He’s the man who helped Bernie get approval to come and work here. These are my parents, Bill and Nora Hamilton, and Matthew’s wife, Jenny.”
“Call me Teddy,” said Teddy, shaking everyone’s hands. “Delighted to meet you all.”
Jenny introduced the children—Lettie and Roddy—who shyly greeted Louisa but who obviously didn’t remember her—and the baby, whose name was Ellen.
“Gosh it’s funny to be back,” Louisa said as Jenny led them all inside for tea. “Everything’s so familiar and yet so different.”
“I’m glad you’ve managed to build bridges with your parents,” Teddy said, speaking only to Louisa. “Family is so important.”
She nodded. “I needed time, to heal and to come to terms with my mother’s reaction. But my time with the Suffragettes opened my eyes, really. I understand now she was worried for me—she thought I wouldn’t be all right on my own, that I needed a man and that even a man like Reg was better than no man at all.”
“She should have helped you, though, when you asked.”
Louisa nodded again. “She should have. But I know she feels awful that she didn’t and we can both put it behind us and move on.”
Teddy squeezed her hand. “Wise words.”
“Auntie Louisa, Mummy made a cake,” Roddy said, bounding up to them and taking Louisa’s hand. “Come and see. It’s got cherries on top.” Touched by how quickly he’d accepted her as part of the family, she let him lead her into the big kitchen, which like everything was the same but different. The big fireplace and the range hadn’t changed, but there was a new table and a pretty tabby cat curled up on one of the chairs—at least until Roddy prodded it. It hissed in annoyance, jumped onto the stone floor and tiptoed snootily out the back door.
“Tea?” Jenny said with a smile.
“That would be great.”
While they waited for the kettle to boil, they chatted about Kew and the farm. Matthew and Louisa’s dad, Bill, asked all sorts of questions about the vegetable patches at the Gardens, and Lou glowed with pride as she shared tips about how to get the potatoes growing better and what crops to grow over winter. She felt even more like a proper gardener when her dad got up from his chair and found some paper and a pencil and started making notes about what she was saying.
“We’ve expanded so much and we could do a lot more,” Bill said, tucking the stub of pencil behind his ear. “Lord knows, the villagers can do with all the food they can get.”
Louisa thought the war seemed very far away down here, unlike in London, where there were signs of the conflict everywhere, with soldiers home on leave around the place and all the posters and the like. But it seemed she’d been wrong
and the war had sent its poisonous tendrils into every part of England, even this tiny corner of Kent.
“Is it tough?” she asked.
Her mum, Nora, shuddered.
“All the men have gone, more or less,” she said. “Obviously the farmers are still here, but there are no farmhands, no casual labor. Neville from the pub? With the red hair? He went.”
“Isn’t he too young?” Louisa was trying to remember him, but the only image she could conjure up was of a small mop-headed boy with freckles.
“Sixteen,” her mum said. “He was killed after a fortnight.”
Teddy winced and Louisa glanced at him, checking he was all right. He gave her a small nod in reply.
“Teddy lost his son, Philip,” she told her mum, feeling Teddy’s hand discreetly finding hers under the table and giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “He was killed early in the conflict.”
“I’m so sorry,” Nora said. Teddy bowed his head briefly, acknowledging the sympathy.
“And a friend at work, her husband was in the Dover Patrol and he’s lost at sea. His boat was sunk by a U-boat.”
“Bloody Jerries,” muttered her father. “Bloody war.”
“That’s partly why I’m so pleased you could help Bernie,” Louisa went on. “No one should be forced to go to that hell, not if they don’t think it’s the right thing to do.”
“Is that why you helped Bernie? Because of your son?” Nora asked, watching Teddy with interest. Louisa wondered if she could see they were holding hands under the table, so she let go of Teddy’s fingers.
“It is,” Teddy said carefully. He always spoke more slowly and more cautiously when he was discussing Philip. It was as though he’d rehearsed what to say when he was asked, so he didn’t have to think about the horror behind his words. “I have always wondered if Philip wanted to enlist to impress me. And of course I encouraged him to fight for king and country. When he died, I felt awful. I still feel awful.”
Nora patted his arm. “You shouldn’t blame yourself,” she said. “We all make mistakes as parents.” Her eyes met Louisa’s, and Lou smiled at her, realizing that was another apology of sorts.