by Rose Meddon
Chapter Ten
Lawrence
For early July, it wasn’t very summery. It had been pleasant enough to start with – fine and warm and sunny. But, over the last few days, it had turned cooler and unsettled, such that everyone seemed at a loss to know how to amuse themselves.
‘I miss our picnics on the lawn,’ Naomi opined on this particular afternoon, as she stood, staring out from the dining room towards the cedar tree. On the buffet behind her lay the remains of a Victoria sponge, and a solitary scone; the remnants of an afternoon tea that had, by force of necessity, again been taken indoors.
Peering out at the grey sky, Kate knew how she felt. The change to the weather meant that the last couple of days seemed to have passed as little more than a succession of meals interspersed with forlorn attempts to fill the hours between them.
‘I miss them too,’ she said, turning back into the room and, in the absence of anything better to do, setting about the clearing up. ‘Sitting out there with everyone had become the nicest part of the day.’
At the window, Naomi moved. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘Who do you think this could be?’
Putting down the stack of plates, Kate turned about. Lumbering up the drive was a military staff car. ‘No idea,’ she said, crossing to the window and straining to try and make out its occupants. ‘They don’t look to be RAF, so I doubt they’ve come about Rowley or Ned.’
‘No…’ Naomi replied, darting away from the window and hastening across the room. ‘They look to be from the army.’
A dozen possibilities rushing into her head, Kate reached to a chair for support. Oh, please, dear God, she willed, gathering her wits and starting after Naomi, please don’t let this be more bad news.
Arriving in the hallway to see her standing in the porch, Kate watched the staff car come to a halt, and then saw the driver, in army uniform, get out and go around to open one of the rear doors. Heavens. It was Mr Lawrence. He was back – and without so much as a word by way of warning, either.
Continuing on to the front door, she heard Naomi exclaiming in surprise.
‘Darling! How wonderful! But why didn’t you send word?’
Whatever Mr Lawrence said in response, Kate was unable to hear it. But she did notice that when Naomi threw her arms about his neck, he stood stiffly, making little effort to return her embrace.
‘Mr Lawrence,’ she greeted him when, taking his arm, Naomi led him in through the porch. ‘Good day to you, and welcome back.’
The single nod he gave her in return struck her as the sort of acknowledgment one might make to an acquaintance when passing them in the street, the blankness to his expression leading her to think he wasn’t entirely sure where he was.
Naomi, though, was chattering on regardless, her smile girlish, her manner effusive. ‘What a delightful surprise this is. Absolutely wonderful. Come, let’s go through to the drawing room and see who’s there for you to greet. Oh, and Kate,’ she said, turning over her shoulder as she led Lawrence further along the hall, ‘would you mind seeing to it for me that Lawrence’s things are brought in?’
Behind her, in the porch, the driver already had matters in hand. ‘All right there, ma’am?’ he looked up at her to ask as he deposited Mr Lawrence’s kitbag on the tiled floor.
Giving him a light smile, she nodded. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ But then, unable to ignore the nagging of unease, she said, ‘Tell me, corporal, if you would, from where has Captain Colborne just come?’
‘Regimental HQ, ma’am.’
‘In Wiltshire.’
‘That’s right, ma’am.’
Curiouser and curiouser. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Will there be anything else, ma’am?’
She shook her head. ‘No, thank you. Unless, of course, you’d like some refreshments.’
The young driver smiled. ‘Thank you for the kind offer, ma’am, but I was instructed to make good time and head straight back.’
‘Yes, of course. Well, good day to you then.’
‘Good day to you, ma’am.’
Watching as the driver climbed into the motorcar and then proceeded to navigate it away over the gravel, Kate gave a puzzled shake of her head. What had Mr Lawrence been doing at Regimental HQ? She had assumed – they had assumed – that he was in France. He had given them no reason not to.
Closing the door to the porch, and noticing that a light drizzle was setting in, she turned back into the hallway. Then, determining that clearing away the tea things was less important than finding out what was going on with Mr Lawrence, she went through to the drawing room. When she arrived, it was to find him seated on the sofa, Naomi close beside him and Ned wheeling himself across from the window to join them.
‘So, how many days’ leave do you have?’
Ned’s question seemed to catch Lawrence off-guard.
‘Uh… a few.’
‘A few?’ Naomi pounced upon his reply. ‘Good gracious, darling, for an army captain, that really is the vaguest of answers!’
‘They’re going to let me know… let me know when I’m due back, that is.’
Drawing closer, Kate couldn’t help but notice that both Naomi and Ned were frowning. Indeed, at that moment pulling away from him to regard his face, Naomi went on to say, ‘Forgive me, Lawrence, but I don’t understand. Who will let you know?’
When Lawrence cleared his throat and then proceeded to straighten the knot of his tie, Kate wondered why he was being so evasive. The question put to him hadn’t been an unreasonable one. So was he, for some reason, unable to tell them what was going on? Goodness, what if he was on some sort of secret mission? Luke had once hinted that such things did exist – that it wasn’t just the stuff of story books.
‘HQ,’ Lawrence eventually said. ‘They will tell me.’
Carefully, Kate sat down on the opposite sofa. Mr Lawrence looked truly terrible. In fact, he looked even worse than when he had come to tell her about Luke, his face haggard well beyond anything that a hot bath and some nourishing meals would remedy this time – beyond even being put right with a couple of good nights’ sleep, by the look of him. Poor man. What on earth could have happened to make him look so ill?
‘HQ,’ Naomi repeated her husband’s answer. ‘I see.’ To Kate, though, it was plain that she didn’t see at all. ‘Well, putting that aside for now, how about I go and draw you a bath so that you can have a lovely long soak? I’m sure it would make you feel fresher. And then perhaps we’ll all have a drink before supper…’
Lawrence didn’t reply. Nor did he make any move to.
Concerned by how this was unfolding, Kate glanced to Ned. Catching her look, he gave her the slightest of shrugs.
‘Drinks, yes,’ Lawrence eventually mumbled his agreement.
Watching him then follow his wife from the room, Kate, too, got up. ‘Mr Lawrence doesn’t seem very well,’ she said to Ned.
‘I expect he’s just exhausted,’ he said, turning his wheelchair about and wheeling himself back towards the French windows. ‘One shouldn’t underestimate how wearying the travelling can be. Making that arduous trip for the second time in a few weeks would be enough to exhaust any man…’
‘Yes, for certain that’ll be it,’ Kate agreed. In truth, she thought Ned wrong but, since this was Mr Lawrence they were talking about, and since it wasn’t her place to pry, she couldn’t really press the matter. Perhaps it was as Ned said. Perhaps, once the poor man had got cleaned up and had a hot meal inside him, he would be more like his old self.
Not sure what to do for the best, she crossed to the window at the far end of the room. On the window seat, Rowley was reading.
‘I think the weather’s lifting,’ he said, glancing up at her from the pages of his book.
Leaning across, she looked out. ‘It does seem to be, yes.’
‘To the extent that I was just thinking about making the effort to take a turn outside – you know, strike while the iron is hot and all that? Just because it’s dry now, do
esn’t mean it will be later.’
Desperate for some air, Kate jumped at the suggestion. ‘Would you like some company?’ But then, realizing that he might not, but might feel unable to say so, she quickly went on: ‘Although, if you’d thought to go alone, please do say.’
As it turned out, Rowley seemed glad that she had offered.
‘Thank you for coming out with me,’ he said as they set off around the side of the house. ‘I’ve been itching to get out for some air all day.’
Noticing the earnestness on his expression, she reciprocated with a smile. ‘I was growing desperate too. These last few days, I’ve thought the rain was never going to let up.’
‘No, being stuck indoors has been truly awful, hasn’t it?’
‘For so many reasons, yes.’
‘Tell me,’ he continued, his manner as gentle as ever. ‘How are you feeling now?’
‘Me?’ His question taking her by surprise, she realized that it was a while since anyone had thought to enquire. Not that she minded. In fact, she preferred it that way. Uncertain how to reply, though, she let out a sigh. ‘In truth, I’m not altogether sure I know how to answer that. For certain, grief isn’t how I thought it would be.’
‘No?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Though I don’t know what I was expecting, I suppose I’d always thought that being in mourning would mean endless tears and pain. And I have cried. Quite often. And I have felt pain, too. But mostly I find that I feel nothing. Sometimes, I don’t even remember that Luke’s gone. And then, other times, I don’t feel as though he was ever here to start with. ’Though we might have been married going on four years, the number of days we spent at home together can’t hardly have amounted to more than a couple of dozen. So, it seems to me that constantly dissolving into floods of tears would make me a fraud, since, in truth, I’d be mourning something I’d never truly had.’
‘Mourning the loss of an ideal as much as an actual entity,’ Rowley observed.
Walking along beside him, she realized that it was the sort of observation she had been expecting, but hadn’t got, from Ma Channer. ‘Yes!’ she said. ‘Yes, that’s it. That’s it precisely. I hadn’t thought anyone else would understand—’
‘You explained yourself very clearly.’
‘I did? Only, until now, I’m not certain I even saw it for myself.’
With that, they both turned their eyes to the sky. Bother. It was starting to rain and there was something she had wanted to ask him, something she didn’t feel comfortable discussing indoors.
‘We should probably turn back,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t want to get you into trouble for being out in the rain.’
On his face as he spoke was a wry smile, which she returned with one of her own.
Raining or not, she would ask him now, while they were still some way from the house. ‘What do you think about Mr Lawrence?’
Initially, he didn’t reply. When he eventually did, it was to say, ‘To be truthful, I’m not sure what to think.’
Oddly, his response came as a comfort because it meant that she hadn’t been alone in noticing; there was something amiss with the poor man. ‘Me neither,’ she said.
‘Clearly, for him to arrive so unexpectedly, something must have happened. But I shouldn’t care to guess what that might be.’
‘He doesn’t look at all well,’ she remarked, picturing the sickly tint of his complexion.
‘He doesn’t, no. But then who among us would, had we witnessed the horrors he must have.’
‘Perhaps he has been sent home for some rest,’ she suggested. Sadly, no matter how badly she wanted to believe it, it felt unlikely.
‘Perhaps.’
Noticing that their quickened pace seemed to be leaving him short of breath, she glanced to his face. ‘Are we walking too fast for you?’
He shook his head. ‘No, it’s fine. More important that we get indoors.’
‘You think me wrong about Mr Lawrence, though, don’t you?’ she said. ‘You don’t think he’s just been sent home to rest at all.’
Continuing to retrace their steps across the lawn, the distance they covered before he replied this time was considerable.
‘I’m not sure it’s my place to speculate. If there is something Captain Colborne feels able to tell us – about where he has been and what he has been doing there – then I’m sure that he will.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course. You’re right.’
Arriving back indoors, Kate left Rowley staring out at the passing clouds and made her way up to her room to get dry. If the weather was better later, then perhaps she could suggest that Naomi take Mr Lawrence for an evening stroll – perhaps down to the cove. After all, everyone slept better for a few breaths of sea air.
Over dinner, though, it became apparent that Naomi and Lawrence wouldn’t be walking anywhere. Their meal finished, Nurse Hammond arrived with Esme. Wrapped in her dressing gown and ready for bed, the little girl squealed with delight and scampered around the table to climb onto her mother’s lap.
‘Mamma! Mamma! Story! Story!’
‘Darling, hush,’ Naomi urged, nevertheless lifting the little girl onto her knee. ‘Do try not to be so loud.’ Turning to Nurse Hammond, she went on, ‘Thank you for seeing to her, Nurse Hammond. I’ll bring her up in a moment. Esme, say goodnight.’
Gurgling with laughter, Esme waved to the nurse’s departing back. ‘Nighty-night,’ she shouted after her. ‘Sleep tight.’
‘Christ almighty!’
Taking everyone by surprise, Lawrence slammed his fist upon the table, rattling the dinner service and bringing each of them to turn in his direction.
From her mother’s lap Esme started to cry.
‘In the name of God, whose child is that?’ Lawrence demanded, his eyes bulging, his face crimson.
Shrinking back against her chair with Esme clutched to her chest, Naomi’s expression was one of incomprehension. ‘She’s… ours,’ she whispered. ‘Lawrence, this is Esme – our daughter. Surely you can see that.’
With that, Lawrence craned across the table. Under his stare, Esme squirmed and wriggled, her wailing growing louder.
‘Daughter? What daughter? I don’t have a daughter! Why do you lie to me, woman? Where’s that nurse gone? Someone go and fetch her and have her take this child to its mother.’ When, in their shock, no one moved, Lawrence pushed at his chair and sent it hurtling backwards. ‘Do none of you hear me? Now, I say!’
In the disbelieving silence, Rowley cleared his throat. And, when everyone except Lawrence turned to look at him, he rose to his feet. ‘Captain Colborne, sir,’ he said, struggling upright and then standing as though to attention. ‘Might you accompany me outside, sir? You… uh… that is to say… a most urgent matter requires your presence.’
With no idea what Rowley was doing, Kate held her breath and turned back to Lawrence. At least his attention was now directed away from Naomi and Esme.
‘Lieutenant…?’
‘Rowley-King, sir. On assignment here from RAF Chittenham.’
‘I’m needed outside, you say?’
‘Yes, sir. Something spotted on approach from the south, sir. Thought you might be able to advise.’
‘Enemy?’ Lawrence asked, casting about as though for his cap but then, evidently deciding that he could do without it, rounding the end of the table.
‘Uncertain, sir.’
‘Number?’
‘Also uncertain, sir.’
‘Come on, then, man. Don’t dally. Show me.’
With Rowley going ahead of Lawrence into the hallway, those left at the table finally dared to breathe out.
In his wheelchair, Ned sat slowly shaking his head. ‘Well done, Rowley, old chap. Quick thinking.’ Then, turning to his sister, he said, ‘Look, Min, now might be a good time to take Esme upstairs and settle her into bed. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can find some smokes to take out – see if, between us, Rowley and I can calm the man’s nerves.’
Setting Esme down on the floor, and wiping a hand across her cheek, Naomi stared back at her brother. ‘Is that what… is that what this is – his nerves?’
Ned’s first response was to shrug. ‘Clearly I’m no doctor, but, if pressed for an opinion, then I’d say that yes, this is almost certainly down to his nerves – most likely shot to pieces by what he’s been through.’
Holding tightly onto Esme’s hand, Naomi went to stand in front of him. ‘And what has he been through? Tell me, what could possibly do this to a man such that he doesn’t even recognize his own daughter? And to make him think… make him think that his own wife would lie to him? What could do that? Tell me, please, because I am at a loss. I’m at a loss to even recognize my own husband.’
‘What would do this? I wouldn’t even try to guess.’
‘But it is why he’s come home, isn’t it?’ Naomi went on. ‘He’s been sent back here because he’s – what’s the term – “no longer fit for duty”? That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?’
Again, Ned shrugged. ‘Min, I couldn’t say. Only he can tell you that.’
‘Yes, yes, I know. But, assuming for a moment that is why he’s been sent home, what is it the army would have us do with him? Is there a treatment? Is there something to be done for him?’
In a gesture of helplessness, Ned raised his hands. ‘I’m sorry, Min, I can’t answer that. I can only suggest that you have a word with Nurse Hammond—’
‘I don’t think Nurse Hammond is the right person to be involved in this—’
‘Trust me, she might not be a doctor but, were you to hear her talk, you would appreciate that she has the knowledge of one. At the very least, she might advise you how best to approach him – how to avoid angering him, or how to calm him down—’