Her anguish was too much to be contained. It burst out of her. She thrust her fingers under her hat, into her hair, clawing at her scalp, hurting herself, deserving to be hurt. Adam captured her hands, forced them to be still.
‘Look at me, Carrie.’
She couldn’t. She couldn’t bear to see in his face what she saw every day in the mirror-girl’s eyes.
‘Look at me.’
He pressed her hands between his own. He gave them a shake, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t look at him. He moved backwards, pulling her with him, toppling her off the armchair so that they were both kneeling on the rug, close together. The unexpectedness of it brought her eyes up to his and once there, his eyes locked hers in position.
‘It sometimes happens to babies. The mother puts the baby down to sleep and when she comes back, he’s dead. He’s slipped away. We don’t know why. I wish we did. If we did, maybe we could stop it happening. Would to God we could. Carrie, I swear it wasn’t your fault. Oh, my love, Joey died; he died; he just … died. It wasn’t anything you did, or anything you didn’t do. It just … happened. I’m so sorry, Carrie. I’d do anything to bring him back to you. But even if I’d been there with you when it happened, there is nothing I could have done, nothing I as a doctor could have done. No doctor could. And if no doctor could, then please believe me, please believe me, neither could you.’
‘But I’m his mother.’
‘My sweet girl, you were the best mother he could have had. You did everything for him in his short life. No mother could have done more. He was loved and cherished. And he was with you as he died, nestled against you, kept warm by you, kept safe—’
‘Safe? Safe you call it? He died. I didn’t keep him safe. I might as well have left him in his perambulator outside the front door. I might as well have left Mrs Porter to keep an eye on him while I nipped to the shops. What good did I do? I did nothing, absolutely bloody nothing. Don’t you understand? I was asleep.’
‘Carrie, nothing you could have done would have made any difference – nothing anyone did. And that being the case, isn’t it better that he died in your arms?’
‘Oh! ’ The cry was ripped from her.
‘Listen to me.’ He caught her shoulders, held her when she would have jerked away. ‘What greater comfort could Joey have had than to share such closeness with you in his final moments? What greater comfort than to be with the mother who adored him? I know that doesn’t make it easier for you, Carrie, but perhaps … perhaps it made it easier for him.’
His words penetrated the darkness inside her and sank deep within. She waited for the darkness to spit the words out, as she knew it would. But they stayed put. They stayed inside her and a faint glimmer appeared in her heart.
‘Is that what has kept us apart?’ Adam’s voice was soft. ‘Now isn’t the time for lovemaking, but give me a word, Carrie, just one word, and I will stay. I promise I will stay for ever.’
She couldn’t speak. Her throat was packed solid.
But she could nod. Once. And then the tears flowed.
Chapter Fifty-One
The bell jingled and Carrie looked up eagerly. Mr Weston, holding his hat on, thanks to the mad March wind, entered the shop. Thank goodness! She and Evadne flew across the shop.
‘We’ve been worried about you,’ she said.
‘You’re never late,’ said Evadne. ‘We knew there’d be a good reason.’
Mr Weston’s face was sombre. ‘I apologise for my tardiness, Mrs Armstrong. As to the reason, I’m not sure that good is the correct word to describe it.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘May I suggest we close the shop and go upstairs? This concerns Mrs Jenkins as well.’
Someone walked over Carrie’s grave. She turned the sign to CLOSED and led the way up to the flat. She looked into the kitchen, where Mam was humming to herself as she made pastry.
Carrie smiled, trying to hide her misgivings. ‘Mam, could we borrow you for a minute? Mr Weston has something to tell us. Let’s go in the sitting room.’
‘What’s going on?’ Mam wiped her hands and followed.
Mrs Porter was standing on a wooden chair, buffing up the windowpanes with screwed-up newspaper. The tang of vinegar hung in the air, all the more pungent because the room was toasty-warm. Vinegar – the smell of shame. That same faint aroma had been lingering in their old kitchen the evening they heard the terrible truth about Pa.
‘Mrs Porter, could you possibly leave that for now and do something else?’ asked Carrie.
Mrs Porter looked over her shoulder at them. ‘Right you are, love.’ She climbed down and disappeared.
Mam sat on the sofa and Carrie sat beside her. She had the feeling that Mam might need her close by.
‘What’s this about, Mr Weston?’
‘The war memorial that is going to be built. I was late this morning because I had the chance to find out the details. I took the liberty of enquiring as to whether …’
Mam’s hand snaked across and found Carrie’s.
‘Whether Pa’s name will be included,’ said Evadne. ‘It won’t, will it?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
Carrie squeezed; Mam squeezed harder.
Evadne blew out a breath. ‘Well, it was to be expected, but even so, it’s a shock.’ She pressed a hand to her chest, fingers spread out. ‘I thought I was ready for it, but my heart is pounding.’
‘You can’t prepare for something like this,’ said Mam. ‘Thank you for finding out for us, Mr Weston. You’ve done us a kindness.’
‘It was the least I could do, after all the hospitality and attention your family has shown me.’
‘Is the memorial going to be in Southern Cemetery?’ asked Mam. ‘That’s what everyone expected.’
‘Yes.’ He hesitated. ‘Would you like to know what form it will take?’
‘We don’t need to know,’ Carrie said quickly.
Mam raised her chin. ‘Yes, we do. We mustn’t begrudge all those other families. The men who gave their lives deserve to be remembered.’
‘It is to be a cross of sacrifice; and behind it, a panelled stone wall will be erected, on which will be engraved the names of the local men who made the ultimate sacrifice.’
But not Pa. Carrie felt hollow. This was sorrow and pain that would never end, the family shame immortalised by the absence of Pa’s name. Other families would take their children to visit the memorial to show them Grandpa’s name, Dad’s name, Uncle’s name, and explain to them the sacrifice their own family had made in the name of freedom. But she and Evadne would never be able to do that.
So great was the loss of life that every single place in the kingdom would have its own memorial, inscribed with the names of the fallen. Not just the big places, the towns and cities, but all the small places, the villages and hamlets, no matter how tiny or remote. Mr Weston had said that just one tiny village in the entire United Kingdom had escaped without loss. Just one. But everywhere else – every single place in the atlas of the British Isles that she had used at school – everywhere else would have its own memorial to the men who gave their lives.
But Pa wasn’t one of the glorious dead. He wouldn’t be remembered, except in shame. All those memorials, all those inscribed names, all those families bound together by loss and sacrifice. And she and Mam and Evadne were for ever excluded. After everything the country had been through, they weren’t entitled to feel any share of the pride or sorrow. And it would be that way for the rest of their lives.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ Mr Weston asked.
‘No,’ Carrie began.
‘Yes, there is,’ said Evadne. ‘We should stay here with Mother. We need some time together, just the three of us. But perhaps you could go to Brookburn and tell Ted.’
‘Of course.’
‘And Adam,’ said Carrie. ‘He travelled back overnight from his conference. He should be there by now.’
‘I’ll go immediately.’
Left alone, they looked at one another.
‘Nothing’s changed,’ said Mam. ‘We already knew Pa’s name wouldn’t be included. Nothing has changed.’
She was right. It hadn’t.
And yet it had.
‘We’ll leave the shop shut for the rest of the day,’ said Carrie. ‘Even if I felt like opening up again, which I don’t, it wouldn’t be respectful, not on the day that folk are hearing about the memorial. It wouldn’t look right.’
‘I’ll go down and draw the blind on the door,’ said Evadne.
On the evening they heard about Pa, she had drawn the Wilton Lane curtains as a sign of shame. Now, Carrie was leaving her shop shut for the same reason. It was the best part of two years later and the shame was as keen now as on that first day. Would it never end? Would the world ever forgive them? Stupid questions.
When Evadne returned, there was a quiet bustle, extra footfalls. Carrie looked towards the door. Evadne walked in, followed by Mr Weston, Ted – and Adam. Oh, the relief, the gratitude. Carrie got up and walked straight into his arms. She slipped her arms around his waist and rested her temple against his chest. This man would never let her down. He would stand by her and support her, no matter what.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she said. ‘You too, Ted.’
‘We were on our way in any case,’ said Adam, ‘but we met Weston en route. He told us about the memorial. I’m sorry, Mrs Jenkins.’
‘It was to be expected,’ said Mam, in a tight voice.
‘The reason we were coming here,’ said Adam, ‘is that I have something to tell you – the girls as well, but you in particular, Mrs Jenkins. It’s to do with Mr Jenkins.’
‘Pa?’ Surprise snatched at Carrie’s insides.
‘I believe you know that he spent his last night in company with an army chaplain.’ His gaze moved round, landing on each of them. ‘I tracked him down.’
‘Him!’ snorted Mam. ‘He started all this, him and his big mouth.’
‘I left the conference early in order to spend a day with him.’
‘How could you?’ Evadne demanded. She swept across the room to sit beside Mam on the sofa, laying a hand over Mam’s, long elegant fingers curling round knuckles that were white and rigid. ‘Haven’t we been through enough?’ She glared at Ted. ‘Did you know about this?’
‘Let him speak.’ Ted’s voice was quiet. ‘You should hear this.’
Carrie swivelled her head towards Adam. How could this possibly be something they needed to know? She moved nearer Mam, shoulders touching, linen brushing wool.
Adam sat in one of the armchairs, his face grave. ‘The trenches where Mr Jenkins was stationed were under continuous shelling for seventy-two hours, with great destruction and loss of life up and down the line. When at last the whistle blew, telling the men to go over the top, Mr Jenkins stood there, just stood there, dazed, not responding to anything, neither to bellowing nor to shoving, while in no man’s land his comrades died instantly if they were lucky, with agonising slowness if they weren’t.’
‘At least they died doing their duty,’ Evadne said, and Carrie looked at her, remembering how she had spoken against Pa when they first heard the news; but Evadne wasn’t criticising now. Her voice was sombre and she looked into the air, as if she couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
‘The chaplain asked him what had been in his mind in those moments,’ Adam continued, ‘and Mr Jenkins said he hadn’t been thinking anything, because his mind had been stolen from him. That was what he said. His mind had been stolen.’
‘D’you mean he had gone mad?’ asked Mam.
‘No, not that, though God knows, after the way the men in the trenches suffered, it would be understandable if any of them had lost their minds. The horror, the slaughter …’
‘It’s come to something when you’d rather your husband was mad than … than …’
‘Mrs Jenkins, he wasn’t mad, I can assure you of that. And whatever alternative you have in mind that you couldn’t bring yourself to put into words, he wasn’t that either. He wasn’t bad or shallow or cowardly. He was an ordinary, decent man, trying to do his duty. A good man with a conscience and a stout heart and a sense of honour, and I’m sure that all he wanted, all he prayed for, was to survive the war and come home to his wife and daughters, the beloved family he left behind.’
‘Then why did he run away?’ Evadne challenged, a raw edge to her voice.
‘He didn’t.’
‘Yes, he did. He deserted. God almighty, they shot him for it. The army shot him, his own side. They wouldn’t do that unless he had done something bad.’
‘Desertion meant many things, but it seldom meant running away.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. That’s exactly what desertion means.’
‘More than three hundred of our men were executed for desertion, but I promise you not many of them actually deserted in the generally accepted understanding of the word. The war we’ve just lived through was unlike any other before it, and the effect it had on many of the men who served in it was catastrophic. The term shell shock is being used. At Brookburn, we call it mind-horror, and that’s what overcame Mr Jenkins. All his experiences combined to engulf him and render him unable to respond. I can’t explain it any more clearly than that. No one can. We are just starting to learn about it.’
‘So … he didn’t run away?’ asked Carrie.
‘No. I promise you.’
Everything seemed to slow down as Adam’s words sank in. Did not running away make it any better? Had public opinion, public lack of understanding, done Pa a grave disservice?
‘Is he going to be exonerated?’ Carrie asked. She felt all fluttery inside. Oh, to have Pa’s good name restored! He deserved it. It turned out he deserved it. He was a good man after all. He was dear, lovely Pa after all.
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Adam. ‘We’re just at the beginning of understanding this. There are still many people who don’t believe in it, who regard shell shock – mind-horror – as lack of moral fibre. It will be many years before there is true acceptance.’
‘Pa was a good man,’ said Evadne. ‘We’ve always known that.’
‘A good man who was overwhelmed by bad things,’ said Ted; and Evadne gave him a sad, grateful smile.
‘I’d like to be alone, please,’ said Mam, her voice thick with unspent tears. ‘Please, just go,’ she added as Carrie and Evadne turned to her. ‘I’ve lived with fear and shame for so long, ever since I first found out. Now, I need time to think about what Adam has said.’ She reached out a hand to him. ‘Thank you from the bottom of my heart.’
He let her squeeze his hand. ‘I hope I did the right thing.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘More than I can say.’
‘You young ones go for a walk,’ said Mr Weston. ‘I’ll stay behind, if I may, and sit quietly with you, Mrs Jenkins. Your daughters will worry if they have to leave you alone. Why don’t you all walk down to the memorial on Chorlton Green?’
‘Yes,’ said Carrie. ‘That’s the right thing to do.’
Chapter Fifty-Two
‘This won’t be here much longer now that the official memorial is being built,’ said Carrie, as the four of them stood quietly in front of the display on the Green. The wind had dropped, leaving a bright day with a snap in the air that spoke of spring. How much longer would Pa have his vase? And once it was gone, there would be nothing to remember him by.
‘A good man overwhelmed by bad things,’ said Evadne. ‘It makes it harder, in a way.’
‘Harder?’ Adam turned to look at her.
‘I know. You’d think it would be easier. I used to try to imagine him being so frightened that he ran away. I tried to imagine how bad it would have to be before you would abandon your comrades and run the other way to save your own skin, while everyone else was doing their duty and serving their country. I wasn’t trying to make excuses for him. I just wanted to understand how this decent man, this thoroughly decent man, who br
ought me up and thought the world of me, could possibly have been such a coward. And at the same time, I couldn’t bear to understand, because who could bear to understand something as disgraceful and disgusting as that?’
‘Then shouldn’t knowing what we know now make it easier?’ asked Carrie.
‘At least if he was a coward he would have made his own decision. Not that I want him to be a coward, but he would have made a choice and suffered the consequences. But he wasn’t a coward. He was afflicted by this mind-horror. He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to be overwhelmed like that. I hate to think of his losing control.’
‘He had no power over what he did,’ said Ted, ‘but he still suffered the consequences.’
‘That’s another thing,’ said Carrie. ‘I’ve always found it hard to think of him leaving us to face a lifetime of shame. But he didn’t. If I’ve understood correctly, he couldn’t help it.’
‘He didn’t let you down,’ said Adam, ‘and he didn’t let his country down, but unfortunately, it will be many years before that is widely accepted. You’ll have to come to terms with that.’
‘How many years?’ She could manage a few, if she had to. Say, five. Ten, at a push.
‘Many years, Carrie. You need to understand that. Possibly not in our lifetimes.’
‘You’re kidding!’
‘No. I’m sorry.’
Unbelievable. Or maybe not.
‘Come back to the cottage,’ said Ted.
‘In a minute,’ said Carrie. ‘I’d like to go and see Joey.’
‘Would you like us to come too?’ Evadne offered.
‘Not today. You go on ahead.’
She watched Evadne and Ted walk away, arm in arm, Evadne tall and slender, Ted big and broad-shouldered. They made a fine couple. Carrie was so proud of her sister. She had learnt some hard lessons and grown in character. The old snooty Evadne was long gone, replaced by a considerate, selfless person with bags of common sense and a warm heart.
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