On the second Sunday after Jimmy got back, Garth and Mog went with Belle to see him, and that was a good day. Mog had baked cake and made preserves to take with them, and both she and Garth were very happy to see for themselves that Haddon Hall was everything Belle had said. Mog cried when she saw Jimmy, and even Garth’s eyes were swimming. As it was a dry and sunny day, they took Jimmy out for a walk in his wheelchair, and all four of them enjoyed seeing the pretty countryside in all its glorious autumn colours.
Jimmy was in very good spirits. When they got back to the Hall he even demonstrated his hopping technique to get from the wheelchair to the table in the orangery. Yet when Garth asked when he was coming home, he said point-blank that he was in no hurry.
‘I’m better off here,’ he said, looking as though he felt cornered. ‘I like the quiet and the company when I want it. I’ll be no use to you in the pub.’
Thankfully Garth didn’t argue with him, perhaps he could see for himself that his nephew was better off where he was, but later, on the train journey home, Mog voiced her opinion.
‘He’s afraid of people staring at him and asking him questions about the war,’ she said. ‘How can we make him realize that London is full of wounded men? Most people have lost a relative or close friend, so they aren’t going to ask him anything.’
Although Belle hadn’t been out much since she got back from France, she knew Mog was right. Almost every man under fifty she’d seen was either in uniform or wounded. On her first day home she’d seen the pitiful sight of a man who’d lost both legs, begging outside the station. Mog had said such sights were even more common in Lewisham.
‘Well, he can’t stay at Haddon Hall for ever,’ Garth said.
As Christmas approached Belle took her courage in both hands, and without consulting Jimmy first arranged to see the doctor at his surgery in Sevenoaks before going to Haddon Hall.
Dr Cook’s surgery was in the front room of his house, a double-fronted villa quite close to the station. Belle had seen him twice before while visiting Jimmy, but never to speak to. He drove out to Haddon Hall in a pony and trap, a man of about sixty, portly and with white hair.
Once seated opposite him across his desk Belle noted his kindly, bright blue eyes and clear, rosy skin, and felt she could confide in him.
‘Isn’t it time my husband came home?’ she asked. ‘I know he doesn’t want to, but you’ve fitted him with an arm now and he’s doing quite well on his crutches. I feel he ought to be home with me, I’m living in a kind of limbo.’
‘You want him home?’ He sounded surprised.
‘Of course I do, and so do his uncle and his wife whom we live with. Did he tell you we didn’t?’
‘Not in so many words, but I got the distinct impression it was felt there were too many difficulties running a busy public house. I had planned to ask you to come and talk to me about it. We do need his bed at Haddon Hall, but you preempted that by coming today.’
Belle frowned. ‘His uncle runs the pub, his wife does all the housekeeping. I don’t have any role there. I am free to look after Jimmy. The only difficulty is the stairs, but I know he can get up and down the ones at Haddon Hall, even if he does manage it on his backside.’
Dr Cook smiled. ‘Yes, I’ve seen him do it, and very quickly too. Tell me, Mrs Reilly, why do you think he is reluctant to go home?’
‘His uncle and wife believe it’s because he feels people will stare at him, but I don’t agree. I think he’s afraid of …’ She stopped short, not knowing how to put it.
‘Afraid of husbandly things?’ he prompted.
Belle blushed. ‘Yes. He did say something once back in France. At the time he was still so badly hurt that I was surprised he had even thought about that! I’ve tried to talk to him about it a few times, but he always clams up.’
‘This kind of problem often crops up with amputees,’ he said. ‘They can feel they are only a half man, and it’s easier to push away the woman they love than expose themselves to possible ridicule or contempt.’
‘He surely knows I wouldn’t ridicule him or be contemptuous! I’ve been taking care of wounded men for most of the war.’
‘Reason doesn’t prevail for men who have been through what he has. It’s all trapped up here,’ he explained, tapping his head. ‘The horrors they’ve seen, their terror during assaults, the sound of the guns, even guilt that they survived when so many of their comrades didn’t. Add a badly damaged body and you have a man who feels worthless.’
‘So what can I do to give him back some self-worth?’ she asked.
‘I will tell him we need his bed and that he’s well enough to go home. That may well frighten him, so you and your family mustn’t make too much of it. No welcome home party, no people dropping by to see him. Just try to keep everything calm and normal. He may ask to sleep in a separate room from you; I’ve had men who insisted on sleeping on the floor. You must nip this in the bud, without making too much of it. If he gets his way, he’s likely to stay away from you. He will almost certainly have more nightmares, he might even be aggressive towards you sometimes. But if you can remain affectionate, without expecting much of a response, he will gradually revert back to the man he was before all this.’
‘What if he doesn’t?’ she said in a small voice.
Dr Cook smiled at her. ‘I have every faith that a beautiful, brave and loving woman like you can do whatever she sets her mind to. Go home today and make plans for Jimmy being there with you for Christmas.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Belle stood at the living-room window upstairs watching out anxiously for Mr Gayle’s car. It was the afternoon of 23 December and he was due to bring Jimmy home at eleven that morning, but there was thick fog all over London and it was very cold.
Unpleasant as the fog was, at least it would prevent any further bombing raids. Just three days earlier it was reported that German planes had come in over the Kent and Essex coast, and more than sixteen people had been killed by bombs they’d dropped.
Belle had been to see Jimmy the previous week to take him civilian clothes, but he had shown no enthusiasm for going home. She wasn’t sure now whether she hoped Haddon Hall had decided to keep him there, or that they were just delayed by the fog. If he’d been stuck in a car for several hours in freezing conditions he was going to be very grumpy when he got here. Yet after all the effort she and Mog had made for Christmas they were going to feel very let down without him.
They had spent the last couple of days trimming a Christmas tree and decorating the living room and kitchen with holly tied with red ribbons. It all looked very festive and welcoming. Belle just hoped that Garth had understood what she’d told him about Jimmy, and that he wouldn’t undermine her by bringing people in to meet him, or plying him with drink.
The Christmas tree in the corner of the room looked lovely with the wrapped presents beneath. Belle had dug out the pretty glass baubles they’d bought together for their first Christmas here, and she’d made dozens of little angels from pipe cleaners with white netting dresses and finished each one with gold paper wings and a tiny halo. She felt that when she lit the red candles on Christmas Eve it would look even more beautiful.
Everything was ready: a large turkey in the pantry waiting to be cooked, Christmas pudding and cake made with great care by Mog, and dozens of other special treats which Belle had to queue for hours to buy.
On the previous three Christmases they hadn’t made much of an effort because Jimmy wasn’t there to share it with them, and Belle remembered how they’d discussed what he would be doing on Christmas Day, and what he would get to eat.
In his letter after the first Christmas he’d said that there was plenty of food and extra rum rations as people in England had sent so much out to France for the troops. He’d even got a parcel with socks, a balaclava, chocolate and cigarettes. He’d been very cheerful about the conditions they’d spent the day in, but at that time he’d been billeted in a barn some way back from the fron
t line.
In the subsequent two years there were still parcels and extra rations, but noticeably less cheer from Jimmy. Belle hoped that on Christmas Day this year he’d feel a sense of peace, knowing he would never have to go through such experiences again.
This morning she’d read in the newspapers that all the hospitals were making huge efforts to give wounded soldiers an extra special Christmas. A great many men at the front had got leave this year too; Garth had been run off his feet in the bar last night, and he expected it to be even busier tonight and tomorrow. She had peeped round the bar door last night and it had been a sea of khaki – she thought most of the men must have woken this morning with sore heads. Garth said they were drinking like there was no tomorrow.
Her head ached from the tension and she felt slightly queasy with nervousness as she glanced yet again in the mirror above the mantelpiece to check her appearance.
Garth had said she looked pretty earlier today, but she didn’t agree. The events of the past months had erased the sparkle she once had, she’d become too thin, her dark eyes looked too big for her face and she was very pale because she didn’t go out much any more.
Her dark blue wool dress, high-necked and with long sleeves, was an old one which she’d altered, shortening the skirt and taking it in to fit her better. She’d added a lace collar and cuffs to pep it up, but it hadn’t really worked. It looked what it was – an old dress pretending to be a new one.
There would be no new clothes for the foreseeable future. She would have to watch every penny now as Jimmy’s army pension wouldn’t go far. She still had a few pounds left from when she wound up her shop, but she needed to hold on to that for the future.
It was busy out on the street, despite the thick fog. She could hear people talking, babies crying and children chattering and the ring of boots on the pavements, but it was only now and then that she caught a glimpse of someone coming through the swirling fog. Earlier, when she’d gone out to buy vegetables, there had been queues in all the shops, and she knew they were still there, hidden in the gloom. The greengrocer’s had looked very festive, with a display of polished red apples, oranges and nuts, but all she could see of it now was an orange glow from the lights. At the butcher’s a few doors down from the Railway, she’d stopped to admire the turkeys, geese and chickens hanging above the white marble slab where big joints of beef, pork and lamb were arranged. She’d overheard women complaining how all the prices had gone up, yet in the newspaper this morning it said the government had claimed they were going to fine those profiteering from food shortages. Perhaps they would in poorer parts of London, but she doubted it would be enforced in more affluent areas like Blackheath.
As she stood there she watched a motor car crawl up the hill at a snail’s pace, disappearing into the fog. Motor cars were so common now they were rarely remarked on, and although the baker, milkman and coal merchant still did their delivery rounds with a horse and cart, she supposed that in another ten years horse-drawn transport would have disappeared. She just hoped that by that time she and Jimmy would be living somewhere else.
Garth was wearing her down with his prejudice against women. She knew he hadn’t really become any worse, it was she who had a different perspective through going to France, but his disparaging remarks and refusal to do anything he considered a female role were irritating. Mog might be happy to be subservient to him, but Belle didn’t intend to follow her lead, not even for a quiet life.
Finally she saw Mr Gayle’s motor car, and she ran out of the room and down the stairs. ‘Put the kettle on, Mog, he’s here,’ she called as she passed the kitchen door where Mog and Garth were sitting by the stove.
Belle opened the car door for Jimmy. It was a long time since she’d seen him in anything other than his uniform or hospital blues and he looked so different in his old tweed jacket, a white shirt and the brown pullover Mog had knitted for him. ‘Welcome home, Jimmy,’ she said, reaching out to take his arm, but suddenly remembering it was the artificial one withdrew her hand, and instead opened the back door to get out his crutches.
He had learned techniques of manoeuvring himself and she’d already discovered he didn’t take kindly to anyone interfering. By the time she had the crutches he had turned on the seat and had his remaining leg on the ground.
‘Pass me one,’ he said, and taking the crutch and tucking it under his right arm, he managed without any help to pull himself upright, balancing on the one leg. As always, Belle felt a pang of pity at the sight of the tucked-up empty trouser leg, and knew they’d all got to get used to the sight.
‘Now, if you would tuck that under my arm,’ he said, indicating the second crutch. Then, hooking the false fingers around a bar on the crutch, he hopped nimbly towards the side door of the pub.
It was very tempting to praise him for his skill on crutches, but Belle knew he hated anyone remarking on it, so she just followed him, resisting the desire to put her hand out in case he should topple. ‘Come on in, Mr Gayle,’ she called back, once she’d seen Jimmy had made it to the hall. ‘You must be dying for a cup of tea.’
Garth took over in the hallway, and despite everything he’d been told he was grabbing Jimmy’s arm.
‘Let me be,’ Jimmy said tersely. ‘You’re just in the way.’
‘How’s he been on the way home?’ Belle whispered to Mr Gayle.
‘Quiet, didn’t say much,’ he whispered back. ‘Hard for him to leave his friends, but that was to be expected. Having to go so slowly once we hit the fog didn’t help, I could see him getting more tense with every mile.’
In the kitchen Jimmy took the armed Windsor chair by the stove, propping his crutches up beside him. He seemed agitated, looking around him as if he’d never been there before.
‘It’s so good to have you home,’ Belle said, bending to kiss and hug him, disappointed that he hadn’t said how good it was to be home with her. ‘We’re all excited to see you, but tell us if we are annoying you and we’ll stop it.’
‘How could you annoy me?’ he said, but there was no laughter or even a grin to show it was meant as a compliment.
‘You know what I mean, if we’re being too bossy, talking too much or you want to be alone,’ she said.
They all had tea and a slice of fruit cake and made conversation about Haddon Hall and the journey from there. It was stilted with awkward silences which Mog tried to fill with chatter.
Mr Gayle did his best to steer the conversation on to something more general. ‘I heard this morning that the ponds at Keston and Chislehurst have ice thick enough for skating. I can’t ever remember them freezing that hard before January,’ he said. ‘But it says in the paper that up north they’ve got snow. That’s going to please a lot of children, even if us older people view it with horror.’
‘With the price of coal so high, a lot of people won’t be able to keep a fire going,’ Garth said indignantly. ‘The government claims it’s going to bring down the price, but I’ll believe that when I see it. It’s a scandal that people are making a packet from it.’
‘I couldn’t believe the price of nuts this Christmas,’ Mog said. ‘Brazils are two shillings a pound. And there’s a shortage of dried fruit. I’m glad I got mine back in the summer or there’d have been no cake or Christmas pudding.’
‘I must go now,’ Mr Gayle said, almost as soon as he’d finished his tea. ‘Mrs Gayle has invited some people round this evening and she’ll be cross if I’m late.’
Belle went out to the car with him after he’d said his goodbyes.
‘He will be all right,’ he said, patting her cheek. ‘I can see how anxious you are – it’s frightening when you think he might fall over. But he’s mastered those crutches and his balance, just don’t let him try to do too much too soon.’
‘Merry Christmas to you and your family,’ she said. ‘And thank you for the lifts, the advice and your kindness.’
‘Merry Christmas to you too,’ he said. ‘Jimmy’s a lucky man having a lovely
wife like you. Remind him of it now and again, and don’t treat him with kid gloves, he’s a grown man, not a sick child.’
As Belle went back indoors she saw Garth coming out of the bar with a glass of whisky in his hand.
‘If that’s for Jimmy, take it back,’ she said quietly. ‘It won’t help him one bit.’
‘One glass just to steady him can’t hurt,’ he said with that stubborn look he had so often.
‘If he starts relying on whisky to get through the day it will be terrible for all of us, not just him,’ she said fiercely. ‘It’s bad enough for him managing those crutches sober, drunk he’ll be falling over and hurting himself. He can have a couple of drinks in the evening when he’s upstairs, but not otherwise.’
‘You, my girl, are becoming a shrew,’ he said, then turned and went back into the bar.
They had supper in the kitchen at six as usual, before Garth opened up for the evening. It was Mog’s special steak and kidney pie, which had always been Jimmy’s favourite, but he pushed it around the plate and only ate a few mouthfuls. Belle willed Mog not to remark on it. But he did do justice to the rice pudding and preserved plums.
‘You made rice pudding the first time you cooked for us in Seven Dials. I hoped then that you’d stay,’ he said.
Mog blushed. ‘Fancy you remembering that,’ she said, clearly delighted. ‘But then it was a pleasure to feed you and Garth. My goodness, you could put food away!’
After Belle had helped wash up she told Jimmy they would go upstairs to the living room. ‘The fire is lit there and it’s more comfy and quieter,’ she said. She didn’t trust Garth not to try to lure him into the bar if he was down here.
A flicker passed over Jimmy’s face and she wasn’t sure if it was panic or irritation. But he hauled himself out of his chair anyway.
In the hall he sat down on the stairs, and holding on to the banister went up one step at a time on his behind, the way she’d seen him do at Haddon Hall. She followed him up with his crutches.
The Promise Page 32