Leaves Before the Storm

by Angela Arney

  ‘Brinkley Hall would be a hell of a place to live in alone, and now that most of the army have left I understand it’s going to be turned temporarily into a civilian hospital,’ said Henry. ‘London hospitals haven’t got the beds, since they’ve been bombed, and there are plenty of patients to be cared for. Brinkley Hall will make a good hospital; they are even going to start training nurses there.’

  Henry sounded almost like the man she had married. Informed and interested. ‘How do you know all this?’ asked Megan.

  ‘I’ve been talking on the telephone to an ex-colleague of mine. Senior surgeon at St Thomas’s, and he’s leaving London to set up a new surgical unit here. He’s asked me if I’d like to be involved in the planning meetings.’

  ‘But how…?’ The words came out before she could stop them.

  ‘I know, how will I be of use? Well, I’m working hard at getting my Braille up to speed, and he’s sending me a parcel of books on hospital administration, all in Braille. The Government has put aside a considerable sum of money, so it should be well-financed for a good many years.’

  ‘But what about Violet? Where will she live when she leaves The Priory? She’ll have no home.

  ‘She can stay here,’ said Henry. ‘Lavinia will be moving back to Dowager Cottage as soon as we can get it painted.’

  ‘But I haven’t made arrangements yet to have it done.’

  ‘I have.’ Henry stubbed out his cigarette and gave Megan a squeeze before pulling up the covers on his side of the bed. ‘I got Albert Noakes to go round there to have a look. He’s quite handy with the paintbrush, so George tells me, so he’s going to do it and tidy up the garden as well. He’s starting next week.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Megan. There seemed to be nothing else to say, as Henry had arranged it all. He was gradually becoming more like his old self and suddenly Megan was not sure she liked it. Would he want to begin organizing the house and gardens and the farm soon? Megan enjoyed her work and had got used to running things her way.

  But more than that, if she were honest, was that she’d been thinking that an uninvolved Henry would perhaps accept her pregnancy without making a fuss and would accept the baby into the family. Now she was not so sure.

  Sliding down into her side of the bed she pulled up the bedclothes and closed her eyes. But long after Henry was sleeping peacefully she lay awake, worrying about the future.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Autumn 1944

  Gerald’s funeral took place on a misty morning at the end of September. The Indian summer had disappeared and now the air smelled of bonfire smoke, wet autumn leaves, and mushrooms which were sprouting everywhere. Henry, Megan and Violet followed the hearse in one car and Lavinia and Rosie came behind in another. The Jones family piled into their trap as usual, and the Moons and the land girls walked the short distance to the church of St Nicholas.

  The Moons were at the lichgate when Megan and Henry arrived. They stood back respectfully, Silas touching his cap before removing it for entry into the church. Mrs Moon and Molly and Pat all looked rather strange, thought Megan, wearing dark hats which had quite obviously been retrieved from the back of a cupboard for the occasion.

  ‘Good thing we got the harvest in,’ Silas remarked as Megan passed him. ‘I’m thinking this wet weather is settled for a good few days.’

  Megan nodded. Like Silas, she’d been thinking along those lines. In fact, the harvest had occupied her thoughts most of the time the last few days; there’d been a rush to get everything in and stored before the weather broke completely. The scudding clouds now threatened more bad weather with a vengeance. It seemed appropriate to be burying Gerald on a dark day that signified the end of things; she wondered how many people were sorry to see him go. As for herself, she was still confused. When they’d been young he’d been exciting and good fun, although there was always an underlying current of darkness which she hadn’t understood. Later he’d changed, becoming obsessed with money and power, and then she’d been afraid. There was no doubt; life without Gerald would be simpler.

  ‘The church is almost full,’ whispered Violet. ‘Maybe he was better liked than we knew?’

  Henry gave a wry smile. ‘No, it’s tradition dating back to the days when the Lockwoods and Brinkley Hall provided most of the work around here. Of course, we don’t now, but old habits die hard.’

  ‘My two old gamekeepers are here,’ said Violet. ‘But that’s all the staff I have now. The army has still got responsibility for most of the estate, and the house is being staffed by the new hospital. I shall have a private flat there, but I won’t need anyone to help me. There won’t be any need for staff again.’

  Yes, everything is different and it will never be the same again, thought Megan. Lavinia was wrong when she thought life after the war would pick up where it had left off. Too many people had seen too many changes, the tugging-the-forelock mentality of yesterday had gone for ever. People wanted to do things for themselves, not slave for other people. And as for herself, she just couldn’t imagine living the life she had once wanted: a genteel countrywoman with nothing to do but organize a few charity events. She was a farmer now; that was what she liked doing and she’d proved herself good at it. Just as well she had, she thought ruefully, they needed the income. Gerald had made sure of that when he’d embezzled Henry’s last remaining money. She idly wondered whether Gerald had left Violet any money, but didn’t like to ask and Violet hadn’t volunteered any information.

  Gerald was laid to rest in the Lockwood family plot, beside his uncle, Sir Richard, and his father William. It started raining as Marcus intoned the last rites and the final sodden clods of earth were dropped on his coffin. Megan slid a glance at Henry, who was standing beside her at the graveside holding Violet’s hand as she dropped the last handful of earth on the mortal remains of her husband. She thought of the child she had carried so briefly, that almost certainly had been Gerald’s, and then about the child she was now carrying. How long could she put off telling Henry about the coming baby? Perhaps she could delay it until the end of October, but certainly no longer.

  The next day a letter arrived for Henry from Mrs Curry, the matron at The Priory. It was not a total surprise to Henry; he’d been expecting someone from the hospital to get in touch, and he asked Megan to read it.

  Megan read the letter.

  It has been more than a month since you last visited Squadron Leader Myers, and he is getting very agitated and depressed. He has made a miraculous recovery from his last infection, and is now able to walk a short distance on crutches, something I did not expect. He is threatening to walk all the way from The Priory to Folly House, and I fear he may well attempt to do this. Therefore, I am wondering if you could find time to visit him in the near future. I think this will help him further in his recovery.

  Yours sincerely,

  A M Curry, Matron.

  Megan looked at Henry. ‘You’d better go,’ she said. ‘You haven’t visited him for ages.’

  ‘I suppose I had. Maybe I should ask Violet to come with me. Perhaps the two of us can cheer him up.’

  ‘It’s you he wants to see, not Violet,’ said Megan, making Henry wonder yet again just how much she’d guessed or knew about Adam’s sexual persuasion.

  He visited Adam the very next day; he had managed to persuade Violet to come with him. But Adam was sulky and rude to her. ‘If you’re a nurse,’ he said, ‘go away and nurse someone. Henry doesn’t need you and neither do I.’

  Violet was offended, as Adam had intended her to be, and making a polite excuse she disappeared.

  Watching her go Adam lounged back in his bedside chair. ‘It’s a lovely autumn day,’ he said. ‘Why don’t we go for a walk? I can use one crutch and guide you with my other hand.’

  Not really wanting to walk anywhere with Adam clutching hold of him, Henry compromised, and they walked outside and sat on the nearest seat near the cloister wall. When they were seated he took a deep breath; he knew he had to tell
Adam now. ‘You know I’ve got my memory back,’ he began.

  Adam took his hand and Henry tried to draw it away, but Adam clung on tenaciously. ‘All of it?’ he enquired.

  ‘All of it,’ said Henry quietly. Surely Adam would guess something now? But Adam said nothing, just stroked his hand. ‘Do you remember that night in London, before I went to France, and you suggested that…?

  Adam laughed. ‘Oh, you needn’t apologize. I only remember the good times we had together. Do you remember when I was playing Hamlet and how the girl playing Ophelia fancied me, and I took her to bed, and then told her that I preferred men. How we teased her after that. They were the good days, weren’t they?’

  ‘No,’ said Henry slowly. ‘They weren’t good. I knew then how vicious you could be but at the time I was too infatuated with your world to really notice or object.’ He paused, then added, ‘But I should have done.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake! How prissy can you get, Henry?’ Adam slumped back on the garden seat and glowered at Henry. Then, in a mercurial change of mood, he smiled. ‘But then, I can always forgive you, Henry, because you know I …’

  ‘Adam, don’t say it,’ said Henry quickly.

  ‘Why not? Why can’t I say it? I love you, Henry. I want you. I always have, but I’ve had to make do with poor substitutes, other men and sometimes women. But it’s you I want. Surely after all I’ve suffered you’re not going to deny me that?’ He reached forward and grasped Henry’s thighs with both hands.

  ‘Get off me.’ With a cry Henry pushed roughly at his hands and stood up. Stumbling over the edge of the seat he tried to go in the direction of where he thought the cloister archway was, but found himself crashing into the uneven stones of the wall. He heard Adam laughing, and tried to feel his way along the wall to where he hoped the entrance was into the actual cloisters.

  ‘You can’t escape, you poor blind sod,’ shouted Adam. ‘We’re meant to be together now. For God’s sake, can’t you see that?’

  The rough branches of a wild brier rose growing along the wall tore at Henry’s hands, and lashed across his face. Then his foot caught on the root and he stumbled to his knees. Cursing his blindness, Henry tried to crawl away. He began to weep as Adam’s laugh echoed in his ears.

  At that moment Violet’s voice suddenly interrupted. ‘Good gracious. Whatever is happening?’

  He felt her soft hands helping him rise to his feet. ‘Get me away from here,’ he whispered. ‘Take me home, please.’

  The last thing he heard as Violet led him away was Adam’s voice shouting, ‘I love you. You sod! I love you.’

  A car was organized to take them back to Folly House, as Megan wasn’t due to pick up Henry for another hour. Violet mopped the blood from his hands and face, but didn’t speak. They made the journey in silence and only when they reached Folly House did Violet speak.

  ‘I think an explanation is needed, don’t you?’ she said. ‘And I think Megan needs to hear it as well.’

  ‘It’s not what you think,’ said Henry wearily.

  ‘I’m trying not to think anything,’ was Violet’s uncompromising reply.

  When Megan arrived the three of them retired to Megan’s office for privacy, and the story came out. How during all the years of their friendship, since childhood, Henry had never suspected that Adam was a homosexual, although he’d always known when they lived in London that his morals were … he hesitated for the right word, finally saying, ‘suspect’.

  ‘What exactly do you mean by suspect?’ demanded Violet sharply.

  Megan said nothing. She was thinking of Adam’s letter and waiting for Henry’s next revelation.

  ‘I suppose I mean loose,’ said Henry. ‘His crowd, mostly theatre people, took drugs for fun, cocaine and marijuana. Not a lot, just enough for them to lose their inhibitions.’

  ‘You as well?’ queried Violet.

  ‘Never,’ said Henry firmly. ‘I was a doctor; I knew the dangers, so I didn’t do drugs, although I joined in the parties sometimes. But most of the time I was working in the hospital, and after I married Megan, I didn’t even go to the parties so often. Then I dropped out more or less altogether as Adam joined the Air Force, and then I joined the Army and I didn’t see Adam again for months, not until I was sent back to the military mospital at Millbank before I went to France. He came over to London from Biggin Hill, and it was on that last night that he asked me to become his lover.’

  ‘And what did you say?’ At last Megan spoke.

  ‘I said no, of course. Surely you don’t think that I …’ his voice tailed off. It was then that Megan told him of the letter which Adam had later destroyed. Henry was horrified. ‘And you jumped to the conclusion that …’

  ‘What else was I to think?’ interrupted Megan fiercely. ‘You’ve not shown me much affection since you returned. You’ve not been a husband in the true sense of the word. You’ve not …’ she stopped, suddenly aware of Violet rising from her seat.

  ‘I’ll go now,’ Violet said, and put a hand on Megan’s shoulder. ‘You’ve helped me in the past,’ she said, ‘and I’d like to help you both now. So take my advice. Have a good honest talk.’

  After she’d left the room there was a long silence, then Henry said, ‘Come and sit beside me, Megan.’ When there was no response, he added softly, ‘Please.’

  She knew then that it was time to tell Henry of the coming baby.

  Long, long afterwards, in the still of the night, Megan wondered why she had ever been afraid to tell Henry of her pregnancy. The hour they’d spent alone together in her office had taken them forward in their relationship as if they had taken actual physical leaps. She understood what the war had done to the complex man she had married. By robbing him of his sight it had made it impossible for him to lose himself in the world of healing, which had been his whole life. He should never have married her, nor she him. Too late they both knew they had deceived themselves and each other; there’d been no real love, only convenience. But now the wheel had turned full circle and they needed each other as never before. The price had been high, but there was a chance that from the ashes of their dreams they could perhaps forge something worthwhile.

  The clock downstairs struck three, the silvery chimes floating up the stairs. One, two, three. That was a number for a family. Three. That was what she and Henry had agreed they would be when Jim’s baby was born. Mother, father and baby. His unexpected offer of accepting responsibility for the baby had touched her and she’d burst into tears.

  Henry had put his arms around her and held her tight. ‘Did you expect me to desert you?’ he asked quietly. ‘I need you as much as you need me. I promise you we’ll make something of this life we’ve got, and we’ll do it together.’

  Afterwards they had agreed to tell the family that night at supper. Lavinia and Rosie both flung their arms around Megan. ‘A baby,’ cried Lavinia. ‘Just what I’ve always wanted.’

  Everyone laughed. Later, when they’d retired to the gold room for a celebratory sherry, Arthur said quietly to Megan, ‘I’m glad everything has turned out all right.’ And she realized that he too had known her secret.

  Now, lying beside Henry in the darkness Megan smiled. Suddenly she felt safe, surrounded by love. I’ve lost Jim, but part of him will always be here. The baby was wanted and she knew that he or she would grow up loved and cherished. She slid her hand across her rounded stomach. This baby, she vowed, would be, for better or worse, a Lockwood.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Spring 1945

  Baby Peter arrived on Saturday 3 March 1945. It was an easy delivery, just as it had been an easy pregnancy.

  ‘Working like a man on the farm has made Megan strong,’ Dr Crozier told Henry with a satisfied smile. ‘You have a fine strong son. A big lad at eight and a half pounds.’

  Lavinia and Rosie burst into the room as soon as they heard the wailing cry, jostling for position to get a glimpse of the baby. ‘He’s so little,’ said Rosie in an awed voice.


  ‘Exquisite,’ breathed Lavinia. ‘Go on, Henry, hold your new born son.’

  Henry reached out a hand and caressed the baby lying against Megan’s breast. ‘A credit to his father,’ he said softly.

  ‘A credit to you,’ said Megan quickly and, grasping Henry’s hand, raised it to her lips. Would anyone else notice what Henry said? She looked around anxiously, but everyone was entranced by the new arrival.

  Dr Crozier laughed, and packed his black bag before slipping his arms into his overcoat; it was still chilly outside, with a strong easterly wind even though there were signs of spring. ‘Now,’ he said, shooing Lavinia and Rosie from the room, ‘let’s leave this little family together to have a few moments’ peace. Mrs Quinn is going as well, I think.’

  The midwife nodded. ‘I’ll be back later just to make sure you are settled for the night. Make sure you put baby to the breast every now and then so that he can get the hang of it.’

  ‘Looks like everything is going well with the world at last, eh Lavinia?’ Dr Crozier’s words floated back up the stairs as he shepherded Lavinia and Rosie away. ‘The Allies are pushing those damned Nazis back to Berlin, and the Russians have got them on the run in the Balkans. With any luck, young Peter Lockwood will be growing up in a peaceful world.’

  Henry sat down on the side of the bed. ‘Thank you,’ said Megan.

  He bent his head and aimed a kiss which landed on her forehead. ‘You are mine,’ he said quietly. ‘You and Peter are all I’ve got. I’ll never desert you as long as I live.’

  ‘And I’ll never desert you either,’ said Megan.

  ‘Not even if Jim Byrne should come back to Folly House?’

  The question startled Megan. Jim! She hadn’t thought of him so much recently. She hadn’t even thought of Jim when she’d first gazed at the face of her new son, because baby Peter had his own quite distinguished personality. He was Peter. No one else.