It was three minutes before Agnes entered the room. She had discarded her apron. She was wearing a navy blue skirt and a white silk blouse with a thin black bow at the throat. Grace Farrier was not to know that her sleeves had just been rolled down and her blouse buttoned up to the throat and her wayward hair combed back from about her brow and ears into a pile on top of her head.
‘Good evening.’ She looked from the man to the woman; but the woman just stared at her with round, hostile blue eyes, while the man, after a moment, said, ‘Good evening. How…how is he?’
‘Much the same. The doctor has called again. I think the crisis should be reached before morning. If you wish to stay the night we can accommodate you.’ She finished the last words while looking at Hugh Farrier. And he was about to answer when his wife put in in low cutting tones, ‘There will be no necessity for that, I hope, thank you. Anyway, I shall decide whether or not we take advantage of your offer after I make a decision on my son.’
‘Madam!’ Agnes’ tone was even more cutting. ‘You forget you are in my house. Any decision to be made will be mine. As long as Charles is here, I am responsible for his welfare and answerable only to the doctor. And I may tell you that if your presence excites him unduly then I shall not offer you my hospitality, but ask you to leave. I hope I have made myself clear.’
Hugh Farrier would not have been surprised if his wife had fainted at that moment; but his mouth was open slightly as he looked at this young woman, and it suddenly came to him how his son had become attracted to her. Charles was an easygoing fellow. Charles was a kind and delightful fellow, but he had never given him credit for a great strength of character, and yet he had been strong enough to walk out of his home. And why? Because he had come under the spell of this young woman, this fearless and proud and, yes, magnetic young woman. What a pity that…His thoughts were prevented from going further because he had to bring his attention to his wife. She had her hand to her throat as if she were about to choke and, bending towards her now, he said, ‘Come along, my dear.’
He had to assist her to her feet, but as he did so he saw that her eyes were riveted on the girl as if she were the devil himself. And he knew one thing for certain: never in his whole life had she been spoken to in this manner, nor had she been confronted by such a personality.
He took his wife’s arm and really had to support her as they followed Agnes from the room. And then they were entering the bedroom, and as he looked towards the bed he realised his son had worsened during the short time since he had last seen him.
Agnes did not introduce her mother; but it was Alice who pushed a chair forward for the woman to be seated.
Grace Farrier looked at the sweating face and heaving chest and if she hadn’t been in shock from the confrontation of a few moments ago she would have burst into tears. But that dreadful person’s attitude had frozen something inside her and all she could do was to take the limp hand and whimper, ‘Charles. Charles.’ When there was no response she added, ‘Dear, dear, Charles. It is Mama.’
‘Henry.’
She turned and looked up at her husband, saying, ‘He…he asked for Henry. Why…why should he ask for Henry?’
Yes; yes, why did he ask for Henry; it was Reginald he had wanted. Of course, Henry was a priest or parson, or whatever. No. No; he wouldn’t think like that. He mustn’t think like that. Dear, dear Charles. He had the desire to sit on the side of the bed and hold him close. There had always been something lovable about Charles. There was a strange feeling in his chest, as if he were crying inside. A voice was saying, ‘Would you care for a cup of tea, sir?’ He forced his head round and looked at Alice; then on quite a high surprised note, he said, ‘Yes. Yes, thank you. That would be very nice.’
‘Aggie. Aggie.’
‘Yes, my dear?’ Agnes was bending over him from the other side of the bed, a sponge in her hand, wiping his face.
‘Aggie.’
‘I’m here, dear. I’m here.’
‘Dry.’
‘Well, drink this, dear.’ She had turned and picked a glass up from the side table and, placing her hand under his head she gently raised it, and he gulped at the lemon water, then coughed and spluttered.
She laid him back and wiped his mouth, then said, ‘Charles. Your mother is here.’
‘Mama?’
‘Charles, dear. Charles.’
His sweat-laden lids were blinking up at Agnes, and gently she turned his head on the pillow. And now he was looking at his mother and his lips moved into the word, ‘Mama.’
‘I’m here, dear.’
‘Reg. Bring Reg.’
Grace Farrier swallowed deeply before she said, ‘Reg is coming. Reg is coming.’
He turned his head from her, his chest heaved and when he began a fit of coughing Alice, moving quickly forward to be of help to Agnes, who was now raising him upwards from the pillows, said to the seated woman, ‘Will you move for a minute, please?’ Then her knees almost pushing the indignant lady aside, she too put her arm around Charles’ shoulder, saying, ‘There, there. Get it up. That’s it.’ And when the phlegm spurted from his lips she said, ‘You’ll be all the better for that. That’s it. That’s it.’
Grace Farrier, standing aside, turned helplessly and looked at her husband, and he as helplessly looked back at her.
When Charles was once more lying back on his pillows, the rasping sound in his chest now audible, Alice turned and, looking at them, said, ‘My daughter will have made the tea by now. Would you like to come into the sitting room?’
Jessie had certainly made the tea; and in style. There on a large silver tray stood a silver mounted teaset and, beside it, two fine china cups, silver ornamental spoons in their saucers and silver tongs protruding from the sugar basin, which held cube sugar. And to the side of the low table was a three-tier cake stand, the top tier holding a plate of buttered scones, the second tier two side plates and folded linen napkins.
‘Jessie will see to you, won’t you, Jessie?’ Alice looked hard at her daughter and she, taking her cue, said, ‘Yes, Mother.’
As Alice was about to leave the room Grace Farrier forced herself to speak: ‘I…I think my son needs a nurse, a…a trained nurse.’
‘There’s no need for a trained nurse, madam; I and my daughter are quite qualified to deal with a case of pneumonia. It isn’t the first one I’ve seen.’
‘My wife means to be of help, her…her suggestion, I mean, because you must both be tired out. It…it must be very difficult for you.’
‘Not in the least, sir. When we need further help my—’ Alice had to force herself to say the next words while not looking at her daughter. ‘My son-in-law is quite near and he and my daughter here will take their turn. Anyway, there is no real nursing to be done; he just needs keeping cool till the crisis, and that won’t be for a few hours yet. If you’ll excuse me.’ She inclined her head to each in turn, then walked out, her back expressing her feelings…
‘Pig of a woman!’ Alice’s voice was no sickroom whisper. ‘You should have heard her.’
‘I have.’
‘Can’t think she’s the mother of him and the other one. They likely take after the old fellow; he could be managed, but never her.’
‘Mother,’ Agnes turned from the bed and went to the wash-hand stand and Alice followed her, saying, ‘What is it?’
‘Do…do you think…I mean, is…is he as bad as Father was?’
‘Yes, I would say he is, but he pulled through and this one’s young. Anyway, it’s all in God’s hands; all we can do is pray. And if he survives, you’d better go on praying that that madam keeps out of his hair…I wonder what time the other one will arrive, the Reg one? He seems very fond of him.’
‘Yes, he is.’
‘Come on, lass, don’t give way.’ Alice put her arm round her daughter’s shoulder. ‘There’s a lot of work to be done before the morning, by which time we’ll know one way or the other.’
‘Mother.’
‘Yes, lass?’
‘If anything happens to him, I’ll never marry, never. There’ll be nobody else for me, ever.’
‘Ever is a long time, lass, a long, long time.’
Reginald came at half-past twelve the next day. He stood in the sitting room looking at Agnes and he said, ‘They tell me he’s over the worst.’
‘Yes, the crisis was at about four o’clock this morning.’
‘You look very tired.’
‘I am a little.’
‘Thank you for…for accommodating my parents. They’re very grateful.’
‘Your father may be, but your mother…no, and never. She’ll never be grateful to me for anything I might do. She blames me for what has happened to Charles.’
‘That’s stupid, silly.’
‘Nevertheless, it’s her way of thinking.’
‘May I see him?’
‘Yes, certainly. Come along.’
She led the way into the bedroom, and as he stood looking down on his brother he did not speak for a moment, but when he did he said, ‘You were always the one, old fellow, for doing the right thing at the wrong time, and in the wrong place.’
‘Reg.’
‘Yes? But don’t start to talk. Take it easy; let me do the talking for once. And that isn’t funny.’
‘Reg.’
‘Yes? Now what is it, old man?’
‘I…I thought I was…done for…nearly, but…but for Aggie.’
‘Yes; Agnes is a great girl. You’re very lucky, you know. Why doesn’t something like that happen to me?’
He was now sitting by the side of the bed and he turned and looked to where Agnes was folding some huckaback towels on a side table and smiled at her; then, turning his attention again to Charles, he said, ‘Now is there anything I can do for you?’
When there was no reply, Agnes looked towards them saying, ‘I’ll leave you for a while, and you’—she smiled at Charles—‘behave yourself.’
After Agnes had gone from the room Charles said, ‘There was, but it seems that the reason is no longer…well, necessary. You see, I wanted…well, I thought’—he took a long slow breath—‘you…you might see to Agnes. I mean, see that she got my belongings, writings and things, and also have the annuity passed on to her. And Reg…’
‘Yes, old boy?’
‘I…I want to be married soon.’
‘Oh, my goodness! Get on your feet first. Hells bells, man, you’re in no state to get married like this, I mean, for some weeks ahead. It will take you some time to get over this bout. You’ve had pneumonia. You’ve still got it. You’ll have to see how you are.’
‘It doesn’t matter how I am, I’m going to marry Agnes.’
‘All right, all right, don’t frash yourself, as old Mother Mitcham used to say to us. By the way, I saw her, just a minute, when I popped in home. They all send their warmest thoughts to you. You’re very popular, you know, among the staff, inside and out. Not that I could say you ever did anything to deserve it. But then, you’ve always been lucky.’
‘Reg. Shut up!’
‘Yes. Yes, I will, old fellow. I’m just jabbering because I don’t know what to say. I hate to see you like this.’
‘Reg.’
‘Yes?’
‘You remember Sanderson?’
‘Ralph Sanderson?’
‘Yes. He had pneumonia and spent years in a sanatorium, remember? It left him with—’ He heaved again, then said, ‘TB.’
‘Oh, look; don’t be silly. His was an outside case; he came from a weak stock. There’s no weakness in our stock. From what Agnes tells me you were stupid enough to lie on damp sheets. That’s how you got it. Now, get that out of your head. The main thing is, have you got a good doctor?’
‘Yes, very good.’
‘Well then, after the convalescence, and don’t forget that’ll take some weeks, you’ll be yourself again. And then’—he poked his face down to his brother’s—‘and not before.’ And now he began to whisper, ‘Because if you don’t know it, old fellow, there’s more things to marriage than the ceremony. And you’ll need all your strength to cope with that, renewed strength I mean. Do you get me?’
Charles didn’t answer for quite some time; then he said, ‘There speaks a man of experience.’
‘You’ve said it, fellow. You’ve said it. And now I’m not going to tire you any more, I’m only relieved that you’ve got over the worst.’
‘When…when are you going back?’
‘This afternoon. Things are moving. What I mean is, there’s a rustle going through the high places, rumours on top of rumours. But it wouldn’t surprise me if there was trouble.’
‘What do you mean, trouble?’
‘Well, what trouble can a soldier get into except war?’
‘Oh, no!’
‘Anyway, that’s nothing for you to worry your head over. Now, if I can get away at the weekend I will, but I’ll write you most days. It might only be two lines. You know me.’ He now bent over and gripped the two limp hands and, bringing them together, he pressed them between his own and said, ‘Take care of yourself, Charlie. There’s nobody I like in this world better than you, and you know that. You’re…you’re very dear to me. Goodbye for the present. And remember what I said: take care of yourself and get strong, then I’ll be your best man.’
Charles made no response, except that his eyelids blinked rapidly, and he gulped in his throat, then lay limp as he watched the tall, straight, handsome figure turn at the door and salute him.
Eight
‘It’s his right lung; it will have to be deflated. He’ll be in a sanatorium for some weeks, if not months. His people have made arrangements.’
Agnes stared at the doctor. ‘Where is the sanatorium?’
‘This one’s at Woolley. It’s three weeks now since the crisis and he’s still a sick man. You can see that, can’t you?’
‘Will…will he recover?’
‘Oh yes; I should say so, in time. He’ll never be what he was before. Likely always have to take care, watch the climate, et cetera. I don’t think the North-east will do him any good, but still if I go by my books I’ve got at least a hundred of them with the same complaint and some well into their fifties. In some cases the body adjusts, in others it doesn’t. We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we? You…you were going to be married, he tells me.’
‘Yes. Yes, we were.’
‘Well, that can still come about, given time. How, may I ask, do his people favour it, the marriage?’
‘Not at all, at least his parents don’t. His brothers, well, they have accepted me.’
‘Kind of them, I’m sure, Who do these people think they are anyway? Look, my dear’—he patted her on the shoulder—‘in my opinion, you’re fit to marry anybody in this land. You have something about you that makes you stand out.’
Tears were welling quickly. She bit on her lip; kindness broke her down and she had been near breaking point for some days. She could just murmur, ‘You’re very kind, doctor, very understanding. There’s…there’s one more thing you can do for me. Will you please send me the bill for your attendance on him?’
‘Oh. Now why should I do that? They’re moneyed, that lot.’
‘I know, but…but I would rather pay it. And’—she forced herself to smile—‘as you know, I’m moneyed too, a bit anyway.’
‘Well, all right, if that’s how you want it. As long as I get it, I don’t care where it comes from, the workhouse or the Mansion House.’
She smiled now, saying, ‘Your cover isn’t very good, doctor.’
‘No? I thought it was one of the best. It’s known round about that no-one gets the better of old Bailey. I frighten the daylights out of half of them. That’s instead of giving them constipation pills.’
He went out laughing at his own joke, and she followed him, shaking her head. And when they reached the kitchen he turned to her again, saying, ‘The next thing will be the confinement. Well, I don’t suppose that�
��ll be any bother; she’s young. And you know something? I never thought I’d change me mind about a Felton, but that young fella seems to be turning out all right from what I’ve seen of him in here, and heard from outside an’ all. Good worker and steady with it, no booze-ups or fights. Well, I’ll be off. I’ll see meself out, don’t come down.’ At the door he turned and said, ‘Their car should arrive around three tomorrow, so make hay while the sun shines.’
She stood looking at the closed door. Make hay while the sun shines. What was he inferring by that? He couldn’t mean…? Of course not. Of course not. Yet one never knew with him. It might be true what they said: he had a mistress in Gateshead. Make hay while the sun shines, and Charles in the weak state he was.
The doctor’s words came back to her, and like a clarion bell, later when, saying goodnight to Charles, he put his arms about her and held her tightly, saying, ‘Oh, if only you could lie with me tonight, just this one night. Oh, I know it’s impossible, but if you only could.’
And she too, thought, If I only could. But there was her mother next door. All she could do was to hold him tightly in return and kiss him; but even so, that had to stop or else she knew, mother or no mother, there would have been hay made, sun shining or not.
PART FIVE
War
One
It had been an eventful year for the 2nd Battalion of the Durham Light Infantry. In fact, for the past few years it could have been said they’d had an easy time of it. The only exception having been that occasion when, being an establishment of only 508 NCOs and men, they were ordered to Bradford on strike duty. They had laughed about that. In 1911 they had won the Army hockey cup and in 1913, and for the first time in the Regiment’s history, the football cup. For the ordinary soldier things had been and still were rosy. Unlike the 1st Battalion they had not been pushed all round the globe.
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