by Rose Meddon
Reading his words, Kate smiled. Dear Luke. He could make friends with anyone.
Word came the other day for my pal, Sam. A while back he had some home leave and now his wife writes to him that he is to be a father. I cannot begin to tell you how joyed he is. The babe is due in the autumn, another reason, as he said, for this sorry shambles to be over, and for us all to return home. You know me, Kate, I’m not one for envy but his news fair turned me green. I miss you so much and although I want nothing more than to be home with you again, I also long for us to know happiness like Sam’s. When we talked of children one time, you said you would like two boys and two girls. I pray that one day soon we will be so richly blessed.
Lowering the sheet of paper, Kate frowned. Four children? She didn’t remember saying that! The prospect of such a thing nevertheless making her smile, she read on.
Anyhow. I must end here. Please write back soon. May God keep you safe and well. Your loving husband Luke.
Feeling how her throat had tightened, she bit on her bottom lip. But it did no good whatsoever, tears still reducing everything in front of her to a blurry mess.
In despair at her own foolishness, she shook her head. How daft to get upset by the news that her husband wanted nothing more than to come home and start a family! Given the amount of suffering and loss and hardship there was these days, it was a ridiculous thing to cry over, especially since the very thought of such a thing left her brimful of happiness.
* * *
‘Thank you again for going to the trouble of getting me the notebook.’
It was later that afternoon, and Kate was once again accompanying Rowley as they took their now customary route across the lawn.
‘Glad to be of help,’ she replied.
‘Fortunately, my mother finally sent on my spare spectacles.’
She smiled. ‘That’s good.’
‘I really only need them for maps – or things where the writing is tiny or faint.’
‘I see.’
‘Golly, it’s good to be able to get out,’ he went on, drawing a deep breath down into his chest. ‘I have no idea how Ned manages – stuck inside all the time.’
‘Nor do I,’ she replied, her earlier conversation with Naomi coming back to mind. ‘It must be awful for him.’
‘I’d be climbing the walls.’
At the thought of him trying to do just that, she smiled. She knew what he meant, though. ‘Me too.’
‘He is dreadfully frustrated, you know.’
When he turned to look at her, she nodded. ‘It must be real hard for him, seeing you up and about again, and making such strong progress.’
‘It is, I know it for a fact. I might be hobbling, and I might still find it enormously tiring, but at least every day I do seem to manage a little further – or to walk a little more easily. Whereas Ned…’
‘He mustn’t get angry with himself,’ she said, picturing her twice-daily attempts with Nurse Hammond to get him on his feet. Each time they helped him move from the side of his bed into a standing position, his face twisted with the effort of willing his legs to move. But then, when his feet did nothing but remain rooted to the floor, his look of determination quickly faded to one of frustration, hotly followed by despair – and, increasingly, she had noticed these last few times, by the stirrings of anger.
‘Do you have time enough to keep going as far as those birch trees?’ Rowley asked, lifting his walking cane just high enough from the ground to gesture ahead of them to the edge of the copse.
On his forehead, she noticed, were tiny beads of perspiration. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘If you think you can manage it. It is rather warm.’
‘It is rather. But if we could make it over there,’ he said, gesturing again. ‘We could perch a moment on one of those stumps. I could catch my breath, sit a while with these field glasses and see – although, no, you won’t want to wait around. You’ll want to get back. Of course you will.’
With a smile, she shook her head. ‘Truth to tell, I wouldn’t mind sitting out here a while – unless you’d prefer to be by yourself.’
From his expression, she read genuine surprise.
‘Good God, no. I’ve had quite enough of my own company. Please, do stay. With any luck, I might spot something I need you to identify for me.’
And so, having helped him to lower himself onto the largest of several tree stumps, she chose one of the others and, brushing at its surface, sat down. A couple of feet away from her, he raised the field glasses to his eyes and then scanned slowly from left to right.
‘Anything?’ she asked after a moment.
‘Not a thing,’ he said, lowering the glasses to his lap.
‘Wrong time of day,’ she surmised. ‘Warmest part of the afternoon, when all but the hungriest of souls are hidden away, dozing, their heads tucked under their wings.’
‘Either that,’ he said, his face breaking into a grin, ‘or word went around that some fool was out with a pair of field glasses and that, just for devilment, all birds should take cover.’
‘That’s also possible,’ she agreed with a laugh.
And so they sat for a while, the dappled shade making the heat a little less unbearable, the silence between them comfortable.
With the glorious spell of warmth persisting into the following days, though, taking his daily stroll seemed to leave Rowley even more weary than usual. And so it was that on one afternoon later that week, after idly noticing the pool of blue shadow cast on the front lawn by the cedar tree, Kate persuaded Mr Channer to unearth from the stables some lawn chairs, along with a couple of little round tables and the two remaining steamer chairs that had once belonged to Mrs Latimer. From indoors, she then brought cushions, and dragged the whole lot into something resembling a circle.
‘There,’ she said when she had finished. Despite having been working in the shade, she felt a good deal hotter and stickier than when she had started.
‘I feel such a cad,’ Rowley replied, having watched her at work. ‘Seeing you puffing like that makes me feel utterly useless.’
‘I doubt you will feel that way for much longer,’ she said, plumping a cushion and setting it on one of the chairs for him. ‘You’ll be back to normal soon, mark my words. Even so, you might find these seats too uncomfortable to sit for any real length of time.’
‘To be out here, I’ll put up with it,’ he said, lowering himself cautiously onto one of them. ‘In any event, being banged up like this has taught me the true meaning of discomfort, not to mention about the goodness of other people – and how there is always someone worse off than oneself – no matter how much one might not think so.’
Satisfied that he was genuinely comfortable, and noticing how, almost the moment he settled, his eyes started to close, Kate reached into her wicker basket and set out her writing materials on the adjacent table. Then she unscrewed the lid to her bottle of ink and opened her notepad, this being her first chance to write back to Luke.
My Dearest Husband, she wrote.
Thank you for your letter. If I have been a mite neglectful with my own of late, please do forgive me. Though I am rarely needed in the kitchen – except to wash up – and need only do a small amount of the cleaning, somehow, I am still kept real busy. Apart from the study for Lt. Russell, and bedrooms for each of us, the only other room we have opened up is the drawing room, though hardly do no one have the time to make use of it. Also, and this will make you smile, we take our meals all together in the staff hall. That is Naomi’s doing. Sometimes, with all of the dust sheets everywhere, it do feel like we are camping inside the house but, as Naomi says, it makes for less work.
Today is the finest day of summer yet. It is so warm that to walk across the grass is to grow sticky in no more than a half-dozen strides and to imagine you can see a pond shimmering on the old croquet lawn. This very moment, I am sitting under the cedar tree. Lt. Rowley-King has brought out field glasses and a notebook to keep his Nature Notes but has fallen asleep.
Esme is indoors having a nap and I think Naomi is reading to Ned. Unlike Lt. Rowley-King, Ned does not make good progress at all. But I am sure it is just a matter of time.
Dipping the nib of her pen into the ink, she paused. Then, seeing Naomi looking out through the French doors, she decided to bring her letter to a close.
I hope the weather is good where you are and that you are safe. I have not read so much news of the war lately. Down here it do still seem very distant. Either way, I hope it is nearly won now and that, as you say, you will soon be coming home. It was indeed good news for your friend, Sam. And yes, I hope that we shall one day know that joy too. God bless for now. Your loving wife, Kate.
‘Well, this all looks very civilised.’
Setting aside her pen, Kate looked up to see Naomi standing with her hands on her hips as she surveyed the arrangement of the chairs.
She smiled. ‘It seemed the shadiest place within easy reach of the house.’
‘Well done. Quite brilliant.’
Across from them, Rowley stirred. Sitting up and looking about, he grimaced. ‘Please tell me I haven’t been asleep.’
Neither woman wanting to embarrass him, both simply smiled.
‘Shame there is no way to get Ned out here,’ Naomi remarked, glancing back towards the windows of the study. ‘He looks so terribly pale—’ But then, as though struck by an idea, she threw up her hands. ‘But of course! If he’s not ready to come out here under his own steam yet, then we should get him a wheelchair!’
With some difficulty, Rowley was now raising himself up from where he had become slumped into his seat. ‘Would he use it, do you think? He can be terribly stubborn.’
‘To be able to get out here, I think he might,’ Naomi replied, and she started to retrace her steps across the lawn. ‘I’m going to telephone Cousin Elizabeth,’ she announced over her shoulder. ‘See if she can tell me how to go about acquiring one.’
* * *
Cousin Elizabeth being endlessly resourceful, no one was in the least surprised when, two days later, a van arrived and, from the back, a wheelchair was unloaded.
‘Through here, please,’ Naomi instructed the driver as Kate stood looking on.
Even Nurse Hammond was impressed. ‘Nice and sturdy,’ she said, looking it over. ‘Unused, I would say.’
But Kate couldn’t help thinking that more than anything, Ned looked disheartened.
‘Thanks, Min. You didn’t also happen to requisition two new legs while you were at it, did you?’
‘It’s only to get you outside while the weather’s nice,’ Naomi replied, her tone the one she adopted when she was not in the mood to be thwarted.
‘Daylight and a little sunshine can only aid recovery,’ Nurse Hammond supported her remark. ‘Hard though it might be to credit, sunlight has vitamins that help the growth and repair of bones.’
‘Vitamin D,’ Naomi piped up.
Nurse Hammond seemed surprised. ‘Vitamin D, that’s right.’
‘The only drawback, I’m afraid,’ Naomi went on, ‘is that when you want to wheel him out, you will have to come along the hallway and out through the porch. It’s the only doorway without a step.’
‘So, Lieutenant Russell,’ Nurse Hammond turned to him to say, ‘how about, after luncheon, we try it out? I see that some chairs have been set up on the lawn. Now you will be able to join in.’
‘If you truly think it will help,’ Ned said with a dismayed shake of his head. ‘Then I will sit in all the sunshine I can get.’
By mid-afternoon, the lawn had become home to quite a gathering. Having carried out even more cushions from the drawing room, and with the steamer chair eventually padded to her liking, Naomi lay reclined upon it. Kate occupied a chair nearby, and alongside her sat Rowley. To his left was Ned, his wheelchair just in the sunshine, while in the shade sat Nurse Hammond with her knitting. Having wheeled Ned across the gravel, she had been going to return indoors, but Naomi had bid her stay.
‘Truly, Nurse Hammond,’ she had said, ‘place a chair somewhere of your choosing if you would prefer not to be part of this little circle. But I would venture that you could do with some daylight almost as much as Ned.’
With a smile, Nurse Hammond had complied. And, on a rug in front of everyone, sat Esme, keeping up a soft but continual conversation with several of her dolls.
It was an arrangement that was to be repeated the following afternoon, and again the day after that. Sometimes, soporific from the heat, they would all simply sit making the odd observation; other times, they would read or write letters. Sometimes, Ned would tell Esme a story, it never occurring to the little girl to ask why he didn’t sit in the spare chair or join her down on the rug. For the most part, Rowley kept up a vigil for birds, occasionally exclaiming at something he had seen, or making notes in his book.
‘Aha,’ he chose that moment to announce, and with which Kate turned to see where he was indicating. ‘A jay. In that leaf litter under those trees. Do you see it?’
She nodded. Not so long ago, leaf litter on the lawn would have been unheard of, the leaves being swept up almost before they’d had the chance to touch the ground. Staring across there now, though, she could see that no one had been out with a broom since last autumn at least, the boy who had once worked the grounds having long since received his call-up papers.
‘Whenever I hear a jay calling,’ she said, bringing her mind back to the matter of the bird, ‘I always think it sounds as though a jackdaw and a seagull had raised a half-breed. You know, a sort of cackle-cackle followed by a long wail.’
‘Can’t say I’ve been lucky enough to hear one,’ he said. ‘But I’ll write that down, if I may.’
Feeling herself blushing, she shrugged. ‘Hear one for yourself and you might disagree with me.’
His reply came without him even looking up from his notebook. ‘I highly doubt it.’
From thereon, and while the weather continued to permit, it seemed quite natural that, once out under the cedar tree, they remain there to take their afternoon tea: Kate wheeling a trolley containing everything they needed as far as the front door and Naomi helping her to ferry the contents to the tables.
‘What on earth would your mother say?’ Kate whispered one afternoon as they made their way across the lawn, each carrying plates of sandwiches and cake. ‘Salmon and cucumber, and egg and cress,’ she announced as she set down the first of hers.
‘Lemon Madeira,’ Naomi said of her cargo, ‘and scones. Jam to follow.’
‘Along with napkins and cutlery,’ Kate added as they turned back towards the house. Catching Ned’s eye, she went on, ‘So don’t nobody help themselves yet.’
‘Mamma would turn white,’ Naomi replied to her question from earlier. ‘She would affect to feel faint and accuse me of having taken complete leave of my senses.’
‘Leave of your senses about what in particular?’ she asked as they reached the porch and she lifted from the trolley the tray containing the plates, cups and saucers. At Mabel’s advice, they had left the Royal Worcester indoors and had brought instead the rather sturdier stoneware from the staff parlour. “With this war on,” Mabel had opined, “who knows if we would ever be able to match the pattern were there to be a mishap.”
‘What?’ Naomi asked.
‘What would bother your mother the most – our choice of chinaware? Our inviting Nurse Hammond to join us? Or our leaving the crusts on the sandwiches—’
‘I’ve told you, I won’t have us wasting bread,’ Naomi remarked, picking up the basket of cutlery and napkins. ‘Not when the flour to make it is so hard to come by. I especially don’t want Esme to grow up thinking it acceptable to be wasteful.’
‘—or would it be the sight of her daughter having to fill in for a butler that would drain the colour from her cheeks?’
At that, Naomi erupted into laughter. ‘That, and the fact that her daughter has been inappropriately dressed in her tea gown since breakfast, I should think.’
‘Well, that too, yes.’
‘And anyway, if I am the butler, you must be the footman.’
‘For certain,’ she said as they made their way back to the circle of chairs. ‘Senior footman, of course. Wouldn’t raise a single eyebrow round here, though – my folk are used to seeing me scurrying about with a tray of crockery.’
Their tea taken, the individuals in the little gathering fell into a state of gentle contemplation. Rowley, Kate noticed, was still staring across to where he had earlier seen the jay. In comparison to Ned, he seemed such an intense young man, his frown often so deep that his dark brows appeared almost to join in the middle. And, when he was wearing his spectacles, a very bookish air came over him.
She glanced again to his face. One day, purely to satisfy her curiosity – and no more – she would try to find out how old he was. From his appearance alone it was hard to tell, almost anything above twenty and less than thirty seeming possible.
When she came across him the next afternoon, he was seated in the same chair, this time reading the Telegraph.
‘Ned not come out yet?’ she asked when, looking up and seeing her, he struggled to get to his feet. She did wish he wouldn’t bother getting up on her account. But, by now, she knew that politeness was in his bones, and that he would simply ignore any and all suggestions from her that he not get up.
‘He asked Nurse Hammond to do some extra exercises with him,’ he said. ‘Won’t you take a seat?’
With a smile, she sat down. ‘And you?’ she asked, tidying the fabric of her frock over her legs. ‘Have you been for your walk?’
He gave his newspaper a shake. ‘I have. I had intended trying to go a little further today. But, when it came down to it, I didn’t feel I had it in me. I think I made it there and back quicker, though. I do miss my proper wristwatch – the one with the second hand. I could do with it to time myself. Unfortunately, it got smashed when we crash landed.’ Reading from his face his disappointment, she sensed that the watch had been important to him. ‘It was a present from my Godfather upon my twenty-first birthday,’ he explained. ‘I do still have it but fear it will be beyond repair.’