by Dee Yates
The prisoners were working on the far side of the embankment. To have approached would have made it obvious that she wanted to talk to Josef and she had no wish to cause him trouble. She went on along the road, her eyes straining for any sign that he had seen her. But none stopped from his work and she plodded unhappily on to her destination.
It was the same when she returned. The workforce was still occupied on the far side of the valley. She was so engrossed looking at the prisoners that she failed to see Captain Cameron-Dyet emerge from one of the huts. He stood watching her approach and she started when he addressed her.
‘So, Mrs Fairclough, you have a new baby. May I congratulate you! Is it a boy or a girl?’
‘It’s a girl. I’m calling her Eva.’
‘A pretty name. And you, are you quite well?’
‘Yes, thank you, sir.’
‘Good. Well, don’t let me keep you. The nights are drawing in now and you don’t want the little ones out in the cold.’ The captain nodded and stepped back to let her pass.
Ellen paused. ‘Captain,’ she began with some hesitation. ‘Would you do something for me?’
‘Of course, my dear. What is it?’
‘If it’s true what everyone is saying about the war ending soon, I suppose the prisoners will be returning to their homes. I very much wanted to see Josef Kessler again before he goes.’ The captain made as if to interrupt, but Ellen continued. ‘It’s all right. I know that’s not possible. But could you please give him this? It’s only a letter thanking him for his friendship.’
The captain frowned. ‘I don’t know, Mrs Fairclough. Fraternising with the enemy is to be discouraged, as you well know.’
‘You were happy enough to allow me to fraternise with the enemy when you needed my help,’ Ellen snapped.
‘I suppose you could see it that way.’
‘What other way is there to see it?’
The captain gave a small smile. ‘Very well. You win, Mrs Fairclough. I don’t suppose it can do any harm. As you say, hostilities will soon be over, God willing.’ He held out his hand and took the letter. ‘Take care of yourself and your family, Mrs Fairclough. And I hope your husband returns to you safe and well.’
*
Tom did return safe and well a few days after the signing of the armistice. Gone was the haggard expression, the haunted look in his eyes that had accompanied his earlier returns. The skin of his face was brown. He had filled out his uniform.
Ellen was feeding the baby when the door opened and he walked in. She uttered a cry of surprise, raising a hand to her mouth. ‘Tom! Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?’
‘Oh, you know how it is, lass.’ He bent over and kissed her forehead. ‘Everything is so mixed up at the end of the fighting… people coming and going. Transport full or likely to be. You just have to take the opportunity when it presents itself.’ He put out his hand and touched the baby’s downy hair. ‘So this is our baby daughter. What have you called her?’
‘Her name is Eva.’
‘Eva? What kind of a name is that?’
‘Well, you didn’t suggest anything yourself. In fact, I havenae heard anything from you since that one postcard, six months ago. I’ve been worried sick.’ In truth, she felt no inclination to care for her husband or even to humour him. Her previous feelings for him had declined to the extent that she wondered if she had ever really loved him.
‘I told you before, lass. It’s not always possible to write when you’re in the thick of it. Any road, no need to worry now. I’m home to stay. Things can all get back to normal.’ He sat down heavily in his chair and began to unlace his boots.
‘I’ll make you a cup of tea when I’ve finished feeding Eva. I don’t suppose you’ve had any lunch?’
‘No, I haven’t. I intended to call in at the village shop and get something to eat on the way, but I was so distracted by what was going on at the station that I clean forgot.’ He gave a broad grin.
‘What was going on at the station?’
‘The prisoners were there, them from along the valley, being herded onto the Glasgow train quick as you like. Pretty miserable they looked as well. And they were getting a fair bit of abuse from the villagers, I can tell you.’
Ellen glanced involuntarily out of the window where the view was empty of everything except sheep and hills. It was an age since the enemy had had their quarters opposite the farm. Yet that was the view she remembered now… the day when they had marched in to pitch their tents on the patch of flat land that she could see from the window. And now there was nothing.
‘Perhaps all this disruption to the valley will stop now and we’ll be able to live in peace.’
‘Och no,’ his wife replied miserably. ‘Things have gone too far for that. They’ve made their mark on the valley and no mistake. There’s no turning back.’
*
Josef Kessler fixed the picture in his mind as the train pulled out of the station… the rounded hills, bare of trees and, from this distance, seemingly bare of sheep. From here it was impossible to see the farm, but he knew where it was by the contours of the hills that formed its backdrop.
All too soon the train picked up speed and left the Uplands behind to follow the path of the River Clyde as it rambled into larger and larger towns on its journey to the sea. Putting his hand into his coat pocket, he felt the crispness of the envelope that lay within. It gave him a modicum of comfort. He could not, of course, read it again here, surrounded as he was by his fellow countrymen. But he had memorised the words and, even if the letter were taken from him, he would never forget what was written.
Dear Josef,
I think it unlikely that I will see you before you leave. It means that we will never meet again. My heart is breaking. Although I maybe should not say this, you have been more like a husband to me than my own husband.
I shall try to be a good wife to Tom if and when he returns, and a good mother to his daughter. I shall also try to be a good mother to your daughter, for I feel sure that the new baby is yours. She has your hair and the same faraway eyes, full of the sea. Her smile is yours and, when she grows up, I have no doubt that she will have your sweet temper.
I have called her Eva after the auntie she will never know. I will look after her well. I shall never forget you. You live on in our daughter.
From your loving friend, Ellen.
36
Clara’s Companion
After so many months without a letter, it was strange to see the postman approach the cottage a few days before Christmas. With a fast-beating heart, Ellen almost snatched the envelope out of his hand hoping it might be from Josef. The address, however, was to Mr and Mrs T. Fairclough.
Tom was out on the hill and would not be back for several hours. Slowly she opened the letter and, as she scanned the page, felt a rising mixture of pleasure and apprehension.
Dear Tom and Ellen,
I do hope this letter finds you well. What a blessing that the war is ended at last but awful that it has been replaced by the scourge of influenza. There are so many cases in Glasgow that we have spent most of our days caring for them. Our routine work has been put to one side until the emergency is over.
The reason I am writing to you is to ask you a favour. I have been given three days off at Christmas and told to get away and rest. There is not time for me to visit my home and I wonder if I might impose on you. You said I might, if I was free at any time.
I have another favour to ask. A colleague is in a similar predicament to myself. Could you possibly find room for the two of us? I think the country air would do us both good.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Your affectionate friend, Clara.
She studied Tom’s face closely when she handed him the letter at teatime, noting how a darkening flush travelled up over the skin of his neck when he glimpsed the name at the bottom of the page. He paused, as if to collect his thoughts, before folding up the page.
‘W
ell, lass, we better start making preparations.’ He grinned at her. ‘Shall you reply to the letter?’
‘No, you do it, Tom. She’s your friend.’ She would keep up this charade for the sake of the children but it was clear where Tom's affections lay. And his obvious excitement over Clara's imminent visit only emphasised the emptiness in her heart caused by Josef's departure.
‘It’s a nuisance we’ve got to have one of her colleagues as well,' Tom continued. 'I wonder which one she’s bringing. I hope it’s not that stuck-up bitch she was studying with.’ Tom’s lip curled in distaste.
‘How have you met the girls she was studying with?’ Ellen asked, ignoring his coarse choice of words.
‘Oh, I called to see her once… not long after I came here… just to see how she were getting along. She were in the middle of lectures, so it weren’t convenient to talk.’ He looked round the room, cluttered with the paraphernalia of two small children. ‘Happen they’ll have to sleep in your father’s side of the cottage. We’ve no room here, thanks to you, little one.’ He picked Netta up and sat her on his lap. ‘Just think, Netta, in a few days we’ll have Auntie Clara here. What an exciting time it’ll be.’ And he began to tickle her until she shrieked and begged to be let down.
*
With an uncanny feeling of déjà vu, Tom tied Archie to the rail outside the station and walked briskly onto the platform. Glancing at the station clock, he saw that there were still ten minutes before the train was due in. He found an empty seat and sat down, willing himself to be calm.
He cursed again at the thought that his conversation with Clara would be modified by the presence of another. If he were lucky, though, her friend would wish to spend some time chatting with his wife and he could then take Clara walking on the hills. At least Clara’s companion would make it unlikely that he would face further quizzing about his activities in the last months of the war.
He stood up and began to pace the platform. A brisk wind ruffled his hair and sent scraps of leaves flurrying across the lines. When the warning bell sounded, Tom stood still as the Glasgow train approached, waiting for the first glimpse of his childhood friend. Then disappointment flooded through him. She wasn’t there. As the smoke cleared, the only people who alighted from the train were a young couple, smartly dressed, and an elderly farmer, to whom Tom returned a brief nod of recognition.
He turned slowly to the exit. She must have missed the train or perhaps the influenza outbreak had reached such proportions that she was unable to get away. Maybe… and he was gripped by a sudden panic… maybe she had succumbed to the influenza herself. What if she were one of the many who had not survived?
‘Tom! Don’t you recognise me?’
She was there! How could he have failed to see her? She must think him stupid. He spun round wildly and came face to face with a Clara he hardly knew. She looked taller than before, better dressed, in a dark green suit and ankle-length boots. But it was her hair that arrested his gaze. It was cut short. Gone were the dark curls that had filled his dreams on so many occasions. In their place was a dark swirl of cropped hair that framed her face and gave her an authoritative air.
She must have sensed his shock, for she put her hand up to the side of her head and laughed. ‘I’m sorry. I should have warned you about the hair. It’s so much more sensible for when I’m on the wards and in operating theatres.’ She gave a chuckle and half turned. ‘Tom… may I introduce Dr Alex Fraser… my husband.’
The look of shock on Tom’s face intensified. He stood as if turned to stone. A man came forward and shook his hand before stepping to Clara’s side and putting an arm round her waist. He was slim and tall. His piercing eyes were very blue and his hair sandy-coloured and brushed straight back from his face. He looked considerably older than Clara.
Tom felt a hand on his arm and the touch broke his stupor. He looked down. Clara’s gloved hand rested on the rough tweed of his jacket. He fought to bring his emotions under control.
‘I… I’d no idea.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘You should have said.’ His voice shook.
‘It was meant to be a surprise.’
‘It’s certainly that.’ He withdrew his arm.
‘Blame me.’ It was Alex Fraser speaking. He had the authoritative voice of the educated Highlander. ‘It was all very sudden, at least the wedding was, although we have been engaged for some months. It was the opportunity of a new job and the certainty that it would take me away from Clara that forced our hands.’ He looked at her fondly. ‘You see, I couldn’t bear to go without her. You’re a married man yourself. You must know what I mean.’
‘Some of us had very little choice until recently,’ Tom said bitterly.
‘Aye, I’m aware of that and can only be grateful that my work kept me fully occupied in this country.’
Clara gave an involuntary shiver. ‘Are we going to stand here all day, Tom? I’m looking forward to seeing little Netta again, and Ellen too.’
‘Of course. Archie and the wagon are waiting outside.’ Tom turned to the exit, summoning up all his energy to lift one leaden step in front of the other and ride the wave of disappointment that was threatening to engulf him.
He said little to the pair as he steered the wagon through the valley. In truth, he felt as he must look, like a country cousin, uncouth and down-at-heel next to their elegance and education. He was angry, so angry, with Clara for putting him in this impossible position and without warning. But, above all, he was overwhelmed with despair at the knowledge that she was finally beyond his grasp… even if, in reality, his marriage to Ellen had already made her so years ago. What didn’t help was the thought that he would have to dance attention on them for the next three days while they stayed under his roof and did all the things that newly married couples liked to do. The thought was intolerable.
*
Ellen was delighted with the news. Not only did it remove the threat of Clara that had hovered over her for so long, but it was exciting to be able to entertain a couple of similar age to themselves. She had lived for so long in the company of her father and Margaret Murdie that she had almost forgotten what it was like to be with people of her own age.
Alex Fraser was clearly enchanted with Netta. The eldest of five children, he had spent most of his holidays entertaining one or other of his growing number of nieces and nephews. So he said it was just like being at home. And Clara was enchanted by the new baby.
‘They’re beautiful children, both of them… and so placid. I hope, when my firstborn arrives, it will be like yours.’ Clara looked at Alex fondly and laughed at the blush that spread rapidly up his neck and face. ‘Yes, I am having a baby in the New Year. We are so excited about it.’
After Ellen had voiced her congratulations Tom turned to Clara. ‘So where is the new job going to be, only you said that you were moving away. Are you staying in the big city or will it be a quiet cottage hospital?’
‘Neither,’ Alex replied enigmatically and looked at Clara.
‘We’re travelling abroad, if all goes according to plan,’ his wife said. ‘Alex has applied to work in a mission hospital. In a few months’ time we will be leaving for China.’
*
‘You have a lovely family, Tom. Thank you for having us to stay. We’ve enjoyed being with you all.’ Clara gave Tom a kiss on his cheek before turning to her husband, who lifted her down gently from the wagon.
Tom stepped down after her, fastening Archie loosely to the railings and retrieving their case. He followed them onto the platform and they stood in silence, Tom both eager for and dreading the arrival of the train. At last they heard its approach.
Tom turned to Alex. ‘Look after her. She was always my favourite girl at school!’ The words caught in his throat.
‘I will, you can rest assured.’ Alex gave Tom a firm handshake
The train slowed, stopped and Alex helped Clara into the carriage before taking the case from Tom.
‘Well, goodbye… and thank you.’ Alex sl
ammed the door and sat down. Tom took a step back and looked at them as the engine drew jerkily away. He raised his hand slowly and waved, his heart constricting as he faced the prospect of never setting eyes on Clara again.
As soon as the train was out of sight, Tom spun round and hurried from the platform, his head down. At the entrance. he almost collided with two men who were standing just outside the station. He murmured his apologies, glancing up as he did so. One looked vaguely familiar, a face glimpsed across a cluttered desk, stacked with papers. He turned away hurriedly, reached the waiting horse and wagon, unhooked the reins, jumped into the seat and made off as fast as he was able. His heart was beating nineteen to the dozen. He had just remembered where he had seen that face before.
37
Proud of Her
‘I need to check on the sheep.’ Tom put his head round the door. Ellen was preparing a meal.
‘Won’t you have some tea first?’
‘No. I need to walk the hill before the snow gets too bad. Give me some cake. It’ll keep me going until later.’
He pulled on a thicker coat and a pair of heavy boots, snatched up his stick and left the house, scanning the far side of the valley as he did so. Nothing moved. Overhead the sky was grey slate. The snowflakes were thickening.
By the time he had checked on the ewes, a thin pencil of light was all that marked the sunset. Entering the lower barn, he made his way to one of the pens and sank down in the reeking straw. He put his head on his knees and for a while no coherent thoughts came to him, and even when they did, they didn’t help him plan the next few vital hours.