The Married Girls

by Diney Costeloe

  Daphne felt a flush of anger run through her. We’ve only been married five minutes, she thought, and already he’s looking at other women. Well, let him look. He’s married to me, and it’s going to stay that way.

  The mourners began to move off, back to the welcoming warmth of the Magpie, and at last it was only Charlotte, standing with Billy’s parents and Jane.

  ‘Will you come back to the farm?’ Margaret asked her.

  ‘No,’ Charlotte said. ‘No, thank you. I’m going to go home to the children. I need to be with them, now,’ adding to soften her answer, ‘but perhaps I could bring them tomorrow.’

  Margaret nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’ But her eyes were full of sadness and disappointment, and Charlotte saw John put a comforting arm round her shoulder as they turned and walked across the churchyard.

  As they moved away, Jane held Charlotte back. ‘Don’t forget that we’ve lost Billy, too,’ she said fiercely. ‘It isn’t just about you and the children. My parents have lost their only son and I’ve lost my brother!’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know?’ Charlotte replied bitterly. ‘But my first concern is my children. You all understand what’s happened, but they don’t. I have to make life as normal for them as possible. I’ve said I’ll bring them over to the farm tomorrow.’

  ‘I shan’t be there tomorrow,’ snapped Jane. ‘I have to go back to work.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Charlotte, but she knew in her heart she wasn’t. She didn’t want to have to spend the rest of this dreadful day, or the next, with Billy’s sister, determined to make her feel like an outsider.

  That night, when both the children were tucked up in bed, Charlotte sat down and reread the letter she’d received from Aunt Naomi in reply to her own, breaking the news.

  My dearest Charlotte,

  Dan and I were very sorry to hear about Billy’s dreadful accident. You said in your letter that no one quite knew how it happened but his horse fell. It must have been an awful shock. I’m sure you’re being very brave for the children, but it can’t be easy on your own. You said not to try and come down for the funeral and I’m afraid we can’t, but we want you to know that we shall be thinking of you that day.

  Your Billy was a lovely fellow and it gave us so much pleasure to see the happiness he brought you. You have his children, they’re his legacy, and you’ve got to be strong for them. I know you will be, you’re one of the strongest people I know.

  Don’t forget, if ever you want to bring the children up to visit us, we’d love to see you all. I know it’s a long way, but perhaps when they’re a little older. In the meantime we’ll keep writing as usual.

  Dan and Nicky send their love and lots from me, too.

  Aunt Naomi

  Despite telling her foster parents not to come all the way to Somerset for the funeral, a small part of her had hoped that they would. She was surrounded by friends here in the village. Caroline had been a tower of strength, the vicar and Mrs Vicar would always be there if she needed them, Clare had called to see her and offered to look after the children if that would help, but somehow she felt as alone as when she’d arrived in the village as a refugee; before she met Billy.

  Everyone was telling her how strong she was, how brave, but she didn’t feel strong or brave, she felt utterly wretched with an aching loneliness that threatened to engulf her. How could she be strong and brave? She’d only been brave and strong before because Billy was at her side, giving her courage and strength. Now he was gone and she felt that courage and strength had faded away with him.

  Entirely unbidden, Harry slipped into her mind. Should she tell him what had happened? She had an address for him, somewhere in London, written in his last letter. That was still hidden in her music stool. Perhaps she should destroy it now. It seemed disloyal to Billy to keep it, but the fact that she had it couldn’t hurt Billy any more. As far as she was concerned there’d been no contest between them. It was Billy she loved, heart and soul, but Harry was still special, special in a way that Billy had never been able to understand. Harry’s letter would remain where it was, but she wouldn’t destroy it, not yet. It was her last link with him and her childhood.

  The rest of my life starts tomorrow, she thought miserably, and for the children’s sake I have to make the most of it.

  The first step would be in the morning when she took them over to Charing Farm to see their grandparents.

  Henry Masters had given her something to help her sleep, but Charlotte had decided not to take it. She must wake up properly if either of the children awoke in the night and needed her. Before she went to her own bedroom, she looked in on Johnny. He’d thrown off his covers and was lying, one arm flung out above his head, the other clutching his panda bear close against him. She stood for a long moment, watching him as he slept, his eyelashes fluttering with dreams, his fair curls untidy on the pillow.

  Very gently Charlotte drew the eiderdown back over him and bent to kiss his forehead. ‘Goodnight, my darling,’ she whispered, and stole out of the room, leaving him to sleep.

  She had already moved Edie’s cot into her own room, hers and Billy’s. She wanted to be sure of hearing her in the night, but even more she wanted the comfort of hearing another human being breathing softly beside her. As she climbed into the bed she could hear the comforting snuffle from the sleeping Edie, and despite her churning thoughts, she slipped into a deep, exhausted slumber and awoke only when Edie did, as daylight filtered through the curtains to announce the new day.

  After breakfast she got the children dressed and ready and, as promised, set out for Charing Farm. It was a step she had to take, a place she had to confront without Billy, and the sooner she did it, the better. As they walked the familiar path to the farm, the path Billy had taken every morning and evening, a weak winter sun broke through the clouds, casting its pale light across the hillside, finding colour in the hedgerow and glinting off the puddles in the rutted, muddy track. Johnny splashed through them, and as the water sprayed over his wellington boots he turned back to his mother and cried, ‘It’s all right, Mummy, I’ve got my boots on.’

  Charlotte forced a smile to her lips and said, ‘Yes, it’s all right when you’re in your wellies.’

  Billy’ll never walk this path again, she thought miserably. He’ll never see Johnny jumping in the puddles, or Edie learning to do the same.

  These thoughts assailed her with a stab of pain, but she instantly pushed them away. Everything around her reminded her of Billy and she couldn’t allow such thoughts to invade her mind, couldn’t afford to break down; she must force herself to look forward.

  Their arrival in the farmyard was greeted, as always, by the barking dogs. Margaret and John both came out to meet them and Johnny ran to hug his grandfather.

  ‘Can I do riding today, Gramp?’ he asked. ‘Can I ride Barney with you? Daddy’s not here, but I could ride him with you.’

  John swung him up into his arms, saying, ‘We’ll have to see about that, old son. Maybe when Gr’ma’s found us a drink and a biscuit, eh?’ As he held the little boy close against him, Charlotte could see the unshed tears in the old man’s eyes. She’d never thought of her father-in-law as old before, but now it seemed as if he’d aged ten years in the last ten days.

  Margaret was standing at the back door and as Charlotte turned to her, she held out both hands. For a long moment they held each other and then Charlotte said shakily, ‘If we’re having drinks and biscuits, I know Edie’d like a rusk.’ She reached down into the pram and lifting her daughter, passed her over to Margaret. Cuddling the baby against her, Margaret carried her indoors and they all followed her into the kitchen.

  ‘Can I ride Barney now?’ Johnny asked as he swallowed the last of his milk.

  John looked at Charlotte for guidance and she gave a brief nod. She knew that there was no way she could stop Johnny riding, and that it was something she was going to have to get used to.

  ‘You can,’ replied John, ‘but first we have t
o see if the hens have laid any eggs and feed the pigs. I waited till you got here to do that.’

  Johnny slid down off his stool and caught at his grandfather’s hand. ‘Come on, Gramp, they’ll be hungry.’

  They went out into the yard and Charlotte could hear Johnny’s piping voice as he swung on John’s hand and they headed for the hen house.

  Edie was sitting in the high chair, gripping a rusk in her fingers and happily smearing it round her face. Margaret looked across at Charlotte and asked, ‘How’re you doing? Are you coping all right?’

  Charlotte gave a faint smile. ‘It’s not easy,’ she admitted. ‘Sometimes, when I’m doing something mundane, Billy ambushes me and it’s as if I’d just heard the news all over again.’ She sighed. ‘I try not to let the children see I’m upset, particularly Johnny.’

  ‘You know we’re here to help, if there’s anything we can do.’

  ‘I do know, thank you. I know it’s devastating for you, too.’

  Margaret reached for her hand. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s very difficult for all of us, but we have each other and in time... maybe...’ Her voice trailed off.

  Thinking of Jane’s comment in the churchyard Charlotte said, ‘I don’t mean to push you away, it’s just...’ Her voice trembled and she took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘It’s just that I have to deal with Billy’s death in my own way.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ Margaret said gently. ‘We all do. Everyone copes with grief in a different way. But remember, because you have his children, you still have part of Billy.’

  As they returned to Blackdown House later that afternoon, Johnny told Charlotte about his ride on Barney.

  ‘Gramp says I rided really well today,’ he said. ‘Daddy’ll be pleased, won’t he?’

  Blinking back her tears Charlotte said, ‘He’d be very proud of you, Johnny.’

  ‘I told Gramp my daddy was dead and wasn’t coming back.’

  ‘Did you?’ Charlotte was startled. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said he knew. Is dead for a long time, Mummy?’

  ‘Yes, my darling, I’m afraid it is.’

  Johnny nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s what Gramp said.’

  26

  Charlotte felt the next few weeks were the hardest in her life. While coping with her own grief, which at times threatened to overwhelm her, she had to try and keep life on an even keel for the children. Edie was easy. All Charlotte had to do was maintain the routine by which she already lived. Johnny was more difficult, and he became more and more demanding as the days went by. Billy had been a true family man and Charlotte hadn’t realised how often he’d taken the load from her shoulders by taking his son out with him, playing with him, helping to bath him.

  ‘Daddy’d let me,’ became Johnny’s regular reply to any refusal or prohibition from her. ‘Daddy says I can.’ It almost broke Charlotte’s heart, because on occasion she knew that Johnny was right. She was saying ‘no’ to things simply because she couldn’t be in two places at once... and if Billy had been there...

  From a purely practical point of view she missed all the help he’d given her with their children; from an emotional one, she knew a deep and bitter chill in her life as each night she climbed into the empty bed and tried to sleep.

  One morning, several weeks later, Charlotte went to see Mr Thompson, the solicitor in Cheddar who had managed her trust while she was still a minor. She had seen him at Billy’s funeral, but there had been nothing more than a handshake between them as the solicitor offered his condolences. It was David Swanson who suggested that she should go and see him now.

  ‘It would be a good idea to make sure how you stand financially, Charlotte,’ he said one afternoon when she’d brought the children to tea at the vicarage. ‘Although your trust was wound up some time ago, I know Mr Thompson is still advising you. And remember, I was a trustee, too, so I’m here if you want to discuss anything with me, now or in the future.’

  Charlotte smiled at him gratefully. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘and I will go and see Mr Thompson soon and have a chat with him.’

  ‘Did Billy make a will?’ David asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Charlotte. ‘I doubt it. I certainly haven’t.’

  ‘Well, perhaps that’s something you should consider,’ David suggested. ‘If anything should happen to you...’

  Charlotte paled. ‘If anything happened to me?’

  ‘Well,’ David said gently, ‘you might want to name guardians for the children.’

  They didn’t discuss the matter further, but it had given Charlotte food for thought, and she continued to think about it when the children were in bed that night.

  She hadn’t given it any consideration until now, but she was almost certain that Billy had made no will. It had never been mentioned. What had he to leave? He made his living farming with his father. He received wages for his work on the farm and, as the son of the house, there was sometimes a bonus at the end of the year, but he had no property of his own. Neither of them had considered the necessity of making a will. Why should they? The world was at peace; they were young and had the future ahead of them. Together they would watch their children grow, guiding them along the way, seeing them reach maturity.

  With Billy’s death, Charlotte must now look at the future from a different perspective. If something happened to her, the children would be adrift, as she had been adrift when she lost her own parents in the war. But whom could she name as their guardians? John and Margaret were the obvious answer, but Charlotte hesitated. She was sure they would agree if she asked them, but she felt they were the wrong generation. She knew that though Margaret wouldn’t have admitted it, she already found Johnny tiring, and starting again with a baby like Edie wouldn’t be easy either. Of course the children would grow older, but so would John and Margaret.

  She thought of Jane. She was their aunt, but she wasn’t married and would have to cope alone. She was a single woman with her living to earn, her own life to lead. It wouldn’t be fair to burden her with two small children.

  This was how Charlotte rationalised her dismissal of her sister-in-law as a possible guardian, but if she were honest, she knew it was because she disliked Jane; disliked her and didn’t want her children to come under her domination.

  She thought of Naomi and Dan, but they were the other side of the country, far away from anything familiar to the children. If something should, God forbid, happen to her, Charlotte didn’t want the children uprooted and moved away from the only places and people they knew. Briefly she considered Clare and Malcolm, but not for more than a moment. They already had enough on their plates. Malcolm was taking over the lease of Havering Farm on Lady Day and they would be moving out of the village.

  ‘We shall have to work all the hours God sends,’ Clare had said when she told Charlotte about the move, ‘but it will be for ourselves. Malcolm is up and down about the whole thing. One minute he’s thrilled to bits to have our own farm to run and the next he’s panicking that he won’t make a go of it and everything will go wrong.’

  ‘But it’s such an exciting chance,’ Charlotte said. ‘And Malcolm knows what he’s doing.’

  ‘It is, and he does,’ Clare agreed, ‘but it’s going to be very hard. I shall do all I can, too, of course, but the house is old and needs a lot of work. Mr Flower hasn’t done anything to it for years. Oh, the building’s sound enough, the estate looks after that, but the inside is unbelievable.’

  ‘And you’ve got Agnes.’

  ‘And I’ve got Agnes,’ Clare agreed, ‘but I expect she’ll get easier as she gets older.’

  Thinking of her own children, Charlotte was not at all sure about that, but she didn’t say so.

  No, she thought now, there was no way she could ask Clare and Malcolm to take on the responsibility of two more children. Which brought her to the people who had always been waiting at the back of her mind. Caroline and Henry Masters. Though Henry was older than Caroline, they
were still young enough to cope with two children if necessary. Charlotte loved Caroline dearly, knew that Johnny did too and Edie surely would as she grew to know her. Caroline was sensible and knew exactly how to handle children, treating them with loving firmness; understanding and dealing with their problems, as she’d understood Charlotte’s fear of enclosed places and helped her cope with air-raid shelters. Caroline was the only person Charlotte could think of with whom she felt confident entrusting her children. She could only hope that Caroline and Henry would be prepared to care for Johnny and Edie should the worst happen and the need arose.

  Caroline had suggested that she bring the children to lunch one day and Charlotte took her up on this, giving herself the chance to broach the subject of guardians. At first Caroline was astonished at her request.

  ‘You want us, Henry and me, to become the children’s legal guardians if anything should happen to you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Charlotte. ‘That’s it exactly. I know it’s a lot to ask of anyone...’

  ‘But surely, it should be someone in the family,’ Caroline said. ‘Mr and Mrs Shepherd, or Jane?’

  Charlotte explained her reasons for not asking them, and Caroline had to admit she understood them.

  ‘You don’t have to make a decision now,’ Charlotte said. ‘But perhaps you could talk it over with Henry; see what he thinks?’

  After much discussion, Caroline and Henry agreed that they could be named as guardians provided that Charlotte talked to her in-laws first and explained her decision. So, before she went to see Mr Thompson, Charlotte walked over to Charing Farm to see her parents-in-law.