A Christmas Promise

by Annie Groves

  ‘We all muck in around here, nobody stands on ceremony, and you can see how beautiful the countryside is, in all its glory, when it goes light,’ Agnes said proudly.

  Barney asked if he could ride one of the horses.

  ‘If you’re anything like I was when I first saw them you’ll be terrified,’ said Agnes, laughing. ‘They are huge.’ She seemed so contented, sitting beside the crackling fire and drinking a warm, very alcoholic toddy that Carlo had been brewing since the summer.

  ‘Carlo has slotted into the festive spirit with such ease,’ said Agnes. ‘We have mixed Italian customs with our own so he doesn’t feel too homesick.’

  ‘Miss Agnes is a very generous woman,’ said Carlo, and as everyone settled down for an evening of easy good-humoured friendliness they accepted Carlo for who he was.

  ‘More toddy?’ Carlo said with a gentle Italian intonation, and Archie eagerly lifted his glass.

  ‘I don’t mind if I do, old boy,’ he laughed, feeling very merry indeed. ‘Go on, Olive, have a sip. It’s a warm fruit punch, it won’t do any harm,’ Archie urged, but Olive shook her head. She had felt bilious all day, and now her stomach had settled she didn’t want to tempt fate by drinking something that was making Archie decidedly jolly.

  *

  ‘We did it, my darling, we really did,’ David said, protectively holding his wife just as the wailing of the siren started. He looked concerned now, glancing over to the already-packed bag near the doorway. ‘Darling, there is something I have to say now and you are not going to like it.’

  ‘I’m not moving out of London, David. I can’t leave you here alone. How would you manage?’ Dulcie said quickly as she had done so many times before, gathering her babies to take to the shelter.

  David was as agile as any man with two good legs now, and he picked up his daughter, while Dulcie picked up Anthony and, sitting him on her hip, she took hold of the ever-ready shelter bag and headed to the lift that David had specially installed to take them straight to the shelter below.

  ‘Oh, hang on a minute, I’ve forgotten my novel,’ she said, quickly going back for her copy of Three Weeks by Elinor Glyn, a notoriously risqué novel in which a young British aristocrat is seduced by an exotic foreign queen. It was a story Dulcie would never have dared to read in front of her mother.

  ‘I’ve heard that story is very racy,’ David smiled.

  Dulcie had the good grace to blush, before saying, in the only way she knew, ‘How d’you think I got in this condition in the first place?’

  As they made their way down to the underground shelter of the cellar below David’s offices, they were still both laughing. However, their frivolity was short-lived. Just after they settled down, the entire cellar shuddered under an enormous blast! Suddenly, as Dulcie tucked the two children under her body, she realised David was right: it was no longer safe to stay in London, and she was being very selfish keeping her babies here now.

  ‘David, do you think you could work from a farm?’

  ‘By the sound of it, I think I may have to, my darling,’ David said, wrapping his arms around his family as the building gave another shudder.

  ‘We were supposed to travel down tomorrow, do you think we could go today?’ Dulcie asked, clinging to him.

  ‘Of course,’ David answered, looking worried now, ‘everything will be fine.’

  When the raid was over and the all clear sounded, Dulcie and David were horrified to discover that the back of David’s office at the law firm had gone completely, and now Dulcie’s flippant remark about working in the country seemed likely to become a reality.

  In no time at all, even before they were told it was safe to do so, Dulcie and David had filled the car with as many of their possessions from the flat as they could possibly get into it, and they were on their way to Agnes’s farm.

  Sally and the rest of the nurses, porters and staff at Barts were moving those patients who were able under their beds in case one of the bombs hit the hospital. The ones who could not be moved were secured as much as possible by mattresses around their beds, while the nurses sat holding their hands, praying they would be spared.

  ‘Are you walking out with a chap, Nurse?’ asked a sailor so frail after his recent operation that he was unable to be moved from his bed. It was at times like this that Sally really missed Morag, who used to have the patients singing in the darkness and, if it was an all-male ward, secretly enjoying the mucky jokes that were infused with double entendres that used to make Sally blush, but not any more.

  ‘There is someone I write to,’ Sally said enigmatically, feeling the colour rush to her cheeks and knowing that was the first time she had actually admitted that to anybody, except herself.

  ‘I’ve got a girl back home in Fife,’ said the young sailor, and Sally felt the almost imperceptible twitch of his fingers as another bomb went off.

  ‘When we get you over this operation you will be transferred back home and your girl will be waiting for you.’ Sally gently patted his hand even though her heart was racing in her throat. That last bomb had been close. ‘It’ll all be over soon.’

  She turned to the young man, who had been so brave, saving three complete strangers from a bombed-out warehouse while he was on leave from his ship, but she could tell immediately, when she saw his eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling, that his breathing had stopped. He was past saving anybody else now, and after checking there were no vital signs she gently closed his eyes.

  Such a waste of a fine young life. Damn this bloody war, Sally silently railed as she went to find a doctor to confirm the death.

  ‘Is there room for any more?’ Dulcie cried, as Agnes opened the door and squealed with delight, urging her into the spacious farmhouse.

  ‘Look who’s here, everybody!’ Agnes cried, as she took little Hope from her mother and ushered them into the large kitchen where everybody was casually sitting around the table. The men were swapping war stories and the women were peeling what seemed like every imaginable vegetable in the country.

  ‘Dulcie!’ Olive cried. ‘We thought you weren’t coming until Boxing Day.’ Then she noticed that Dulcie’s usually immaculately coiffured hair was riddled with cement dust and splinters of wood. Olive’s hand flew to her mouth but she could not keep the gasp of horror from her voice when she said, ‘Oh, no! Was it bad? Has anybody been hurt?’

  ‘They called it the little blitz on the news,’ Dulcie said, as suddenly, in the arms of the woman who loved her like a mother, she burst into tears.

  Soon, the children were all tucked up in a huge bed under the eaves of the farmhouse, while the adults gathered to discuss the latest bombing raids to hit London.

  ‘You are all welcome to stay here, you know,’ Agnes said, hoping that they would not return to the carnage back in London.

  ‘Let’s talk about it tomorrow,’ Dulcie said. ‘My eyes are like buttonholes. I can’t keep them open.’

  ‘Yes, my darling, you must get your rest, especially now.’ David looked at his wife and the adoration when their eyes met could not be ignored.

  ‘Is there something you two want to tell us?’ Archie exclaimed as the drink loosened his tongue.

  David looked at Dulcie and she nodded to him, taking his hand as he said, ‘My wife and I are proud to announce we are having a baby.’ The roars of delight shook the foundations of the farmhouse, Agnes was sure, as delightedly she hugged Dulcie close while Archie and Carlo slapped David good-naturedly on the back.

  ‘Good show, David, jolly good show!’ Archie then poured out some more fruit punch and they drank a toast.

  ‘It would be a marvellous show if the men could have the babies,’ Olive laughed, and everybody joined in.

  ‘To the future!’ Archie laughed. Olive hadn’t seen him so relaxed in a long time. And then she realised that she hadn’t felt this relaxed herself either.

  A white blanket of hoarfrost covered the fields and farm buildings the following morning, giving the city dwellers cause to
gasp in wonderment. ‘Oh, it looks so beautiful,’ said Olive, looking out of the sitting-room window. This was a far cry from the broken, soot-covered remains of London buildings. Her heart soared as Barney pointed out the different birds he recognised from his school books, as Olive listened to the loud distinctive song of the chaffinch, with his smart blue-grey and rusty pink plumage, which could be heard from the hedgerows.

  ‘Merry Christmas, my love,’ Archie said, handing Olive a small, square, brightly covered box after the others had made their way to the kitchen. Olive’s brow furrowed as she gazed at the gift and, looking up at Archie, she could see he looked a little nervous.

  ‘Open it. I can’t wait until later. I want to know what you think.’

  Olive tore at the paper as thoughts of saving it for salvage were quickly dismissed. Inside the paper a perfect dark blue leather box held a beautiful diamond ring.

  ‘Will you marry me, Olive?’ Archie asked, and, before she could answer, he said quickly, ‘That isn’t my first wife’s engagement ring, Olive … I don’t want you to think …’

  ‘Shut up and kiss me, Archie.’ Olive laughed as tears of joy ran down her cheeks. ‘Of course I’ll marry you!’ And, feeling more like a girl of sixteen than a woman whose daughter was a serving member of the ATS, Olive stood on tiptoes and flung her arms around Archie’s neck, and when they finally, and reluctantly parted they were surprised to see the room full of people.

  ‘Oh, Mum, I am so happy for you!’ Tilly laughed, and clapped her hands along with everybody else, thrilled that her mother had finally found the happiness she deserved.

  ‘She didn’t even know the difference between a bull and a cow,’ laughed Mavis, who had stayed on at the farm for Christmas.

  ‘But you soon picked it up didn’t you, Agnes?’ Carlo said supportively, and Olive smiled, wondering if love was everywhere this year, fleetingly praying that everyone in Article Row had survived the raid.

  ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without these lot,’ Agnes said as she sat back, satisfied after her huge dinner, which Olive had helped to make even though she had been told to put her feet up. ‘When the Darnleys got shirty, the girls warned them off with pitchforks – have you seen pitchforks, Barney? They look lethal – I wouldn’t fight one.’

  Everybody around the table laughed. This was the best Christmas ever, they all agreed.

  ‘I was amazed when she tried to milk the bull,’ Carlo laughed, and winked at Agnes when she blushed.

  ‘Not half as surprised as the bull, I imagine!’ she said.

  David had his arm around Dulcie, the children had been knocked out by the country air and were having an afternoon nap, and hilarity at the table was the order of the day when Agnes went on to tell them about her first few weeks on the farm. The laughter went on so long that Olive had tears running down her cheeks.

  ‘Oh, my word,’ she cried, searching up her sleeve. ‘I’ve lost my hanky now.’

  ‘Here,’ said Tilly, still laughing, ‘I’ll get one out of your bag. You always have a spare.’

  ‘Thank you, darling,’ Olive smiled as Tilly went to fetch the handkerchief. She came back into the room holding two envelopes. Olive’s laughter died on her lips as she saw the letters that Tilly had found. With a sinking heart, Olive knew that the game was up.

  ‘The date mark on this envelope says 1942,’ Tilly said, looking at her name written in the handwriting she knew so well. Her face was ashen as she held up the letters. ‘And this one was posted just weeks ago.’

  ‘I was going to tell you, darling,’ Olive said quickly. ‘Just let me explain —’

  But Tilly had fled from the room, and Olive, taking in the shocked and expectant faces of her friends and family, knew that the perfect Christmas had just taken a turn for the worse.

  ‘How could you, Mum?’ Tilly railed as she stuffed her things into a bag. She didn’t intend to stay here a moment longer than she had to.

  ‘Tilly, it isn’t like that, I had to do it!’ Olive could see that Tilly’s anger, combined with shock and blame, was forcing her to do and say things she never would have thought possible before. But Olive also knew her daughter was right: she should have told Tilly straight away that Drew had been injured, instead of listening to his father, whom she knew now, for very different reasons, wanted his son away from ‘distractions’ in London.

  For wasn’t that what Mr Coleman had implied? That her daughter was being ‘a distraction’? Olive was sure about that now. And she had gone along with keeping the two young sweethearts apart, knowing her daughter might have gone back to America with Drew if she had known he was in England … in London. She would have been thousands of miles away, and she might never have seen her again.

  TWENTY

  ‘Tilly, please don’t go,’ Olive begged. ‘Stay here and we can talk about it.’

  ‘Talk about it? You are so happy with Archie, and I was happy for you.’ Tilly’s face was deathly-pale and her lips were dry, sticking together as she spoke. ‘I wanted you to be safe and secure and I knew you would be with Archie. He is the best thing that has ever come into your life – just like Drew was the best thing for me.’ Her words were low now, full of anguish as the two women stood outside the farmhouse, too angry to feel the freezing air swirling around them.

  ‘If I’d known—’

  ‘If you’d known what?’ Tilly asked, trying so hard to understand why her mother would stand in her way like she did.

  ‘If I’d known he was going to be in London for so long I would have told you,’ Olive conceded, ‘but I didn’t even know he was here until Sally—’

  ‘Sally? What has she got to do with all of this’

  ‘She nursed him,’ Olive said simply, watching Tilly’s expression turn from anger to confusion, and Olive knew that now she was going to have to tell her daughter everything.

  ‘After Drew returned to America for his mother’s funeral, he was involved in an accident. A truck hit him as he was getting into his car – his back was broken and …’ Olive could not go on. Tilly’s face was so pale now she looked as if she was going to pass out, and Olive saw her legs buckle. This was the most difficult thing she had ever had to do. ‘They thought he was going to die, but after a few months he was brought over to England for life-saving surgery, Sally treated him at her hospital …’

  ‘And neither of you thought to inform me, Mum?’

  ‘You can’t blame Sally, Tilly. She was in a difficult position, and I didn’t know at first, but Drew’s father asked me to keep it from you,’ Olive said, her arms crossed over her body as if to defend herself.

  ‘Drew’s father? I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Drew’s father has always tried to control him, just like you’ve always tried to control me!’ Tilly’s words of accusation hit Olive like a slap in the face; spoken out loud, it did sound bad, she had to admit that now, but …

  ‘It wasn’t like that. Drew didn’t … ’ She couldn’t bring herself to tell her daughter that the man she loved so desperately had asked for his injuries to be kept a secret from Tilly. Blaming Drew would have been cowardly, Olive realised.

  ‘He would have wanted me to know, don’t you see?’ Tilly tried to get it through to her mother that she and Drew were closer than she would ever know. ‘He and I were going to be married as soon as I was twenty-one.’ Tilly’s anger rose and almost choked her. ‘We made our vows in the church – we promised to be together for ever, and we meant it, Mother!’ Tilly said the word ‘Mother’ like it was an insult, and Olive flinched. She never thought anything could come between her and Tilly.

  ‘Tilly, I so wanted to tell you—’ Olive began, but Tilly wasn’t interested in her mother’s explanation.

  ‘So why didn’t you? We are two grown women, I’m serving my country and you are nice and cosy with Archie. You’ve got what you wanted and you still want to keep me in my place.’ It was a low blow, Tilly knew, and somewhere in the coldness of her heart there was a place that would rear up
and remind her of her words again, but now she was far too angry at this devastating revelation to think about it.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I had a right to know. I had a right to make my own decisions without having to answer to you in everything – which I always have done. You kept me away from Drew because you’re selfish and only think about what you want, not what’s right for me. You’re selfish and cruel.’

  Tilly’s words pierced Olive’s heart like a knife. Not because Tilly’s words were said in anger, but because, deep down, Olive knew that what Tilly had said was true. She had thought up until today that she still had a right to say how her daughter conducted her own life. Olive hadn’t really put Tilly first – she’d believed she was, but in reality, Olive was so frightened of losing Tilly that she had lost sight of what really mattered: her daughter’s happiness.

  ‘As soon as the trains are back on tomorrow, I am going back to London,’ Tilly said.

  ‘Oh, Tilly, please don’t go, don’t leave under a cloud, anything could—’

  ‘Yes, Mother, anything could happen – to either of us. But I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to forgive you for what you’ve done to us.’

  ‘Please, Tilly, don’t break my heart this way,’ ‘Olive said. ‘I know I’ve done wrong, I see that now, but I thought I was doing what was right.’

  ‘No, Mother, I’m going and there’s not a single thing you can do to stop me.’

  ‘Then let Archie drive you,’ Olive said, desperately.

  ‘I have a travel warrant,’ Tilly said flatly. ‘The army look after us very well.’

  Even if I don’t, Olive thought sadly, knowing that she had always prided herself on being a good mother and realising now that she wasn’t. It just goes to show how wrong one can be, she thought.

  The following morning, Tilly was up before the weak and watery sun came out, and so too was Olive. Janet made her excuses and left the front room when Olive came in, but, before she and Tilly had time to say anything, there was a heavy knock on the farmhouse door. Moments later, Agnes came into the front room, an official-looking envelope in her hand. Janet followed her back in. Olive paled visibly.