A Last Goodbye

Home > Other > A Last Goodbye > Page 24
A Last Goodbye Page 24

by Dee Yates


  ‘I don’t know where he is. Can I help with anything?’

  ‘No you can’t. You’ll stay here and rest.’ He regarded her suspiciously.

  She crossed over to him as normally as she was able and kissed him on the cheek and sat back on her heels. ‘I'm sorry I snapped.’

  Duncan looked at her and shook his head. ‘I hope you’re telling me the truth, lassie, I really do.’

  *

  As dawn crept through the valley, Tom stretched the stiffness from his back. Peeping over the wall of the stell, he could see the stirrings of early morning in the camp below him. He watched for a while as columns of soldiers proceeded to and fro over the rough ground of the enclosure, entering and leaving wooden huts that were lined up neatly along one side of the camp. Tom snorted in disgust and spat on the ground.

  His stomach groaned. He was hungry now, as well as cold. The clear sky had brought with it a sharp frost and the hills glistened white as the sun gained the horizon and broke over the unfolding scene before him. He thought briefly of home and hoped that the injuries he had inflicted on his wife weren’t too visible. He had no desire to be the recipient of a tongue-lashing from her father.

  Transferring his weight onto the other leg, he felt a spasm of pain in his knee, exacerbated by the pursuit of his wife the previous evening. As always, contemplation of his knee led him to think of Clara. How Ellen had guessed about his feelings for the young doctor, he had no idea. He had always, to the best of his knowledge, remained detached and merely friendly when Ellen was present. His wife was, of course, trying to make him feel guilty about his friendship, when it was she who was the guilty party.

  He was about to turn away when he caught sight of the prisoner, a slightly built young man with brown curly hair. He had only seen him once before and then only a brief glimpse. But he would have recognised him anywhere. Tom’s lip curled. What made her prefer this apology for a man to himself?

  The young prisoner entered the canteen and Tom lost sight of him. But his anger was rekindled. He would wait until he re-emerged and follow him to his place of work.

  *

  It was Tom’s lucky day. As he approached the workers at the base of the reservoir embankment, he could see Josef Kessler just ahead, in conversation with two men who were delivering supplies. Taking advantage of the element of surprise, he walked straight up to the group and levelled a punch into Josef’s stomach. The young man doubled over and fell to the ground.

  ‘Hey… what do you think you’re doing?’ one of the deliverymen shouted, at the same time stepping back well clear of the assailant.

  ‘I’m giving him what he deserves,’ Tom muttered, giving Josef a fierce kick in the ribs. ‘And, if you’d any pride in your country, you wouldn’t be bringing food to keep this scum alive.’

  Tom bent low over Josef and hauled him to his feet.

  ‘This is for carrying on with my wife while I were away.’ He aimed a fist at Josef’s nose and the prisoner crashed to the ground again. And then Tom was kicking him in the stomach, the chest, the face, anywhere that his boot could reach, his anger rendering him insensible to the hurt he was inflicting.

  Arms gripped him tightly and he felt himself being hauled backwards.

  ‘That’s enough of that. What in heaven’s name do you think you are doing?’

  Tom stopped, gasping for breath. He looked up into the face of a tall man of superior rank and sneered. ‘I’m giving him what he deserves, that’s what. And you can’t stop me.’

  ‘Oh, but I can. I’m in charge here. These prisoners are working for His Majesty’s government and I will not see them ill-treated. And, may I ask, what is the reason for your grievance against this man?’

  ‘He’s been carrying on with my wife, that’s what.’

  ‘And your wife is who exactly?’

  ‘My wife is Ellen Fairclough from the farm.’

  ‘Ah! Well, Mr Fairclough, I can assure you you’re very much mistaken. Any association between your wife and this prisoner has been completely above board. I can vouch for that.’

  ‘And who, may I ask, are you?’

  ‘I’m Captain Cameron-Dyet, in charge of these prisoners, and I assure you I’ve been keeping a close eye on them.’

  Tom snorted. ‘It was you that asked my wife to take him into my house and without my permission. Keeping a close eye on them! Have you any idea what they have been up to while your back was turned?’

  ‘I can assure you, sir, that nothing untoward has gone on.’

  ‘Oh aye? Well, I invite you to come and talk to my wife and ask her face to face while I’m there and let’s hear what she has to say. Nothing untoward has gone on. Pah!’ Tom wheeled round and set off at a fast limp along the road, leaving the captain staring after him until a groan from Josef brought him to his knees to care for the injured prisoner.

  *

  ‘I think Tom must be away to Army Headquarters,’ Ellen said to her father at dinnertime. ‘He came in earlier and washed and shaved and when he came out of the bedroom he was wearing his uniform. He didn’t say a word to me though. It looks as though you’ll have to make do without him today.’

  ‘Damn the boy! The sheep have started to lamb now. Me and Douglas, we cannae do it all by ourselves.’

  A loud knocking on the door made them both jump.

  ‘I’ll go, Father. You finish your dinner.’

  Captain Cameron Dyet stood outside. He stared at Ellen’s face before seeming to collect himself.

  ‘May I come in, Mrs Fairclough?’

  ‘Of course, Captain.’ She frowned, hoping his visit wasn’t anything to do with Josef. She stood back to allow him to enter.

  ‘Good afternoon, Duncan.’

  ‘Good afternoon, sir.’ Duncan rose to his feet. ‘How can we help?’

  ‘Well, it’s Mrs Fairclough that might be able to help… to throw some light on a problem that has occurred.’

  ‘Do you want me to stay?’ Duncan looked from the soldier to Ellen and back.

  ‘No, Father, you go, if you’ve finished.’

  Duncan lifted his coat from the back of the chair and heaved it over his shoulders. He turned to his daughter. ‘You tell that husband of yours to get himself up the hill when he returns. There’s work to be done.’ He went out, slamming the door.

  The captain raised his eyebrows. ‘Your husband is missing then, Mrs Fairclough? And you look as if you have been in the wars.’

  Ellen put her hand to her face and frowned. ‘Aye, I fell.’

  ‘You did all that with a fall?’

  Ellen was silent.

  ‘Maybe I can offer another explanation. Maybe you have been at the receiving end of your husband’s fist.’

  Ellen said nothing.

  ‘I can see I’m right.’ He paused. ‘You see, Mrs Fairclough, you are not the only one to suffer as the result of your husband’s anger.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Prisoner Kessler has also had a beating.’

  ‘Josef?’ Ellen gasped.

  ‘Precisely so.’

  ‘Is he all right? Please, tell me he is all right.’

  ‘He is much the same as you, I imagine. Bruised and battered but nothing that will not mend. What he went through on the high seas was a lot more serious than what he received this morning at your husband’s hands. May I sit down?’

  ‘Of course. I’m sorry.’ The captain sat but Ellen began to pace up and down the room in her agitation.

  ‘And you have no idea where your husband is now?’

  ‘No. He came in earlier but didnae say anything. When he went, he was wearing his uniform. I tried to ask him what he was doing but he pushed me away and left without a word. I can only think he must have to go to Company Headquarters, though why he didnae tell me I’ve no idea.’ She hesitated and looked at the captain. ‘Between you and me, Captain, me and Tom, well, we havenae been getting on so well recently.’

  ‘That much is obvious, Mrs Fairclough. It’s str
ange though. He asked me to meet him here. No doubt he didn’t reckon with the incriminating evidence of your face.’ The captain cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me for asking, Mrs Fairclough, but is there more between you and the prisoner Kessler than there ought to be?’

  The blush that rose over Ellen’s face told her questioner all he needed to know. She looked at the captain with a heavy sigh and sat down opposite him. ‘I know what it looks like, Captain. But you see… we… me and Josef… became good friends when I was looking after him. I know it seems strange when we don’t even speak the same language… but somehow it didn’t seem to matter. Did you know that Oliver was teaching him English? Then Oliver was killed and you know how upset Josef was at the loss of his friend. After a while I started to teach him English.’

  The captain swallowed. ‘You taught him English?’

  ‘Aye. Well, to start with I gave him books… children’s books mostly and some of Father’s old farming magazines. He said how I was trying to turn him into a farmer.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘But later on, I gave him lessons.’

  ‘You gave him lessons?’ The captain was obviously finding it difficult to believe what Ellen was saying.

  ‘Aye. Through the wire. I’ve been going at night. There’s nothing wrong in that, is there? Talking?’

  The captain looked amazed. ‘You mean you’ve been walking along to the camp every night?’

  ‘Och, not every night. I couldnae go if the weather was bad. Though Josef was always there whatever the weather. He doesnae sleep so well, you see.’

  Ellen stopped to draw breath and the captain allowed himself a small smile.

  ‘And now your husband has found out about your meetings. His reaction, in the circumstances, is understandable, if a little extreme.’

  ‘I know how it looks, Captain. But Tom and me…’ She shrugged. ‘Well, at first we tried. But the truth is… he’s always loved someone else.’

  The captain raised his eyebrows. ‘I see.’

  ‘But he’s jealous of me being friends with other men.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. You’re a very attractive young lady.’

  ‘There was no need for him to be jealous. But he kept accusing me of misbehaving. He… he hasn’t been nice to me for a long time. And, in the end, I suppose it made me more friendly than I ought to have been with Josef. Josef’s very kind and thoughtful. Of course we know that when the war ends…’

  ‘He will be sent back to Germany.’ The captain finished her sentence.

  ‘Aye.’ Ellen got up abruptly and walked to the window so that the captain was unable to see the emotion in her face.

  He sighed. ‘You realise, of course, that these night-time assignations will have to stop. I cannot allow a prisoner under my guard to…’ The captain seemed lost for words.

  ‘Fraternise with the locals?’

  ‘Precisely. And I cannot run the risk of him being attacked by jealous husbands. The prisoners in my charge are meant to be under my protection.’ The look he gave Ellen was not unkind. ‘What of your husband, Mrs Fairclough? Does he return to active service?’

  ‘I don’t know. As I said, I’ve no idea where he is.’

  ‘If I were you, Mrs Fairclough, I would try and keep on the right side of him from now on.’

  ‘…If he returns,’ Ellen added.

  The captain gave an embarrassed cough.

  ‘If there are any difficulties… with your husband, I mean… if he should hurt you again, you know where to find us.’ He glanced toward the door. ‘I must go, but just remember, Mrs Fairclough…’ The captain paused, as though unwilling to say more. ‘Just remember, that these men are our enemy. It doesn’t do to get too friendly with them.’

  Ellen spun round and faced him. Her eyes flashed defiance. ‘And please remember, Captain, who it was brought Josef to me in the first place.’

  33

  Playing Games

  Tom had known how it would be. Men had returned to the front with wounds less well mended than his own. Even if they were not fit enough for the front line, they could be usefully employed in the Divisional reserve lines further back. He explained to the officers how a recurrence of his knee problem had necessitated a further operation, followed by a period of convalescence. He wished bizarrely, and not for the first time, that his recovery had been less successful.

  Regimental reinforcements would be sailing in twelve days’ time, he was told, and he would be sailing with them.

  The interview had been short, no more than a formality, and he had time to spare before his return train. He made his way up George Street and turned left towards the hospital.

  ‘Mr Fairclough!’ the ward sister exclaimed. ‘Come in. This is an unexpected surprise. Are you having problems with your leg again?’

  Tom felt a little foolish. ‘No, Sister. I just hoped I might see Clara for a minute.’

  ‘I assume you mean Dr Moxon? I’m sorry but that’s quite impossible. She is assisting Dr Fraser in theatre and I don’t expect her on the ward until late this afternoon. In any case, she is much too busy to indulge in cosy chit-chat when she’s on duty. If I were you, Mr Fairclough, I would write to her if you have anything to say. That way she can reply to you as and when she wishes. Now I must get on. Good day to you.’ The woman turned back to her desk and resumed writing.

  Tom stared at the stiff white frill of the sister’s cap before swivelling on his heel and marching abruptly out of the office, his resentment increased by being made to feel like a naughty schoolboy. He made his way swiftly down the flight of stairs, eager now to be out of the building. He cursed the ward sister for how she made him feel. He cursed the system that ensured Clara’s never being available. Most of all he cursed Dr Fraser, whom he had never met, for being able to command Clara’s undivided attention.

  The day was sunny and unusually warm for late April. He walked slowly over to the huge edifice of St. Mungo’s Cathedral and sat on a seat in the sunshine. As he watched the passers-by, his gloom deepened. Some appeared cheerful, as if forgetting that thousands – surely their own menfolk among them – were getting killed on the other side of the Channel this very minute. Children skipped and cavorted around the legs of their mothers. A young couple approached slowly, the man’s arm linked tightly with his wife’s. As they drew near, Tom looked at them and quickly averted his gaze. The man bore the unmistakable scars of mustard gas on the skin of his face. And he was blind.

  As they retreated slowly into the distance, Tom watched them. He had seen pals, many of them, afflicted in a similar way at the front. He had listened to their cries as they lay stranded in no man’s land, until rescued by stretcher-bearers or by a well-aimed bullet. Away from the front, he had seen columns of soldiers blinded by the gas, shuffling in lines, hands on the shoulders of the man in front. But it was a shock to see the daily struggle that such wounds would inevitably bring to the returning soldiers and to their families.

  He got up abruptly from the seat and began to walk rapidly towards the station.

  In the carriage he sat back and closed his eyes. This time the picture that came and filled him with remorse was that of his wife’s bruised and swollen face. He had left behind a child whom he adored and a wife who adored him. Or had done until his rough treatment had turned her away. There were eleven days before he needed to leave. Time to make it up with Ellen and pacify the old man by making a start with the lambing.

  *

  Ellen heard the click of the latch and quiet footsteps in the passage and she knew it must be her husband. Angry but frightened, she was unsure how to respond to his sudden reappearance. She looked up warily, a pile of dirty plates in her hands, as Tom entered the living room.

  ‘Where have you been? I thought you’d left us, like you did last time.’

  ‘I were called up to Regimental Headquarters so I could hear their verdict on my fitness for service.’

  ‘And what have they decided?’

  ‘I have to present myself on Sunday 5th Ma
y, for sailing the following day.’

  Ellen put down the plates with a clatter. ‘Sailing where?’

  ‘Back to France. Back to the war.’ He paused. Neither of them moved. ‘You didn’t think they’d let me live out the rest of the war tending sheep, did you?’

  Ellen shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I thought they might.’ She stared at the pile of dirty plates.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ellen.’

  Ellen’s head jerked up at the unexpected words and her eyes filled with tears.

  ‘I’m sorry that I hit you. I know that the way I’ve been has driven you away. I… I think the world of you… you and the babby. Surely you know that.’

  Ellen’s face registered doubt.

  ‘I’ve only got just over a week. Let’s try not to upset one another and make the most of the time we’ve got.’

  Ellen winced at his choice of words, echoing the phrase that Josef had used on that memorable evening outside the wire. She was about to reply when the door crashed back on its hinges and she heard her father’s voice.

  ‘Are you all right, lassie? I thought I’d call in as I was passing to see if you’ve heard anything of that no-good husband of yours.’

  Ellen blushed to her roots. ‘Feyther, he’s here. He’s come back. Like I said, he had to go and get signed up.’

  Duncan’s head appeared round the door frame. ‘Not before time. You could at least have given us warning before you left.’ He looked at his son-in-law shrewdly. ‘And I don’t suppose you know anything about how Ellen got these bruises?’

  ‘I’ve told Tom that I fainted. He knows all about it. You don’t need to say any more.’

  Duncan grunted. ‘If you’re sure, hen.’ He turned to Tom. ‘Well then, pal, there’s ewes out there giving birth, so I suggest you get out of that uniform and into some working clothes and come and give us a hand.’

 

‹ Prev