*
Ryan called to see Sophie, leaving his parents and Owen and a newly re-employed Harry Sutton to run the farm. She accepted his kiss with more ease but still moved away from him when he sat on the couch, and sat on a chair near the window. They discussed the note she had written and Ryan teased her. ‘When I read it out to Gareth he said it was like a newspaper report and remarked that you aren’t too generous with love and kisses. Why is that, Sophie? I had hoped you were beginning to feel the way I do.’
‘There are problems I have to resolve.’
‘You know I’m here for you, if you want me to help. I want to always be here for you.’
She walked across and touched his cheek with her lips and went into the kitchen to find them a drink of wine. Handing it to him, she said, 'Let’s talk about Owen and his mysterious plans, shall we?’
‘Gareth and I are both worried but were afraid to discuss the problems in front of our parents. Gareth feels that Owen is planning something we won’t like. We’ve discussed ways of dealing with Owen, but not knowing what – if anything – he was planning, we decided that Gareth would stay on the farm and report anything of importance to me, while I go back to complete my studies.’
‘Daphne and I will visit when we can. I don’t think your mother objects to me like she did at first, so we can just call without waiting for an invitation.’
‘I’ve only a few more days to do at the school where I’m observing, but I don’t want Owen to know exactly where I am, or how long I’ll be away. Just watch him, please, Sophie.’
‘I will,’ she promised.
‘And think about us, too.’
Seeing her frown, he said, ‘Whatever it is, don’t worry, just think about us and our future. There’s nothing we can’t sort out. Love conquers all, doesn’t it?’
The kiss as he left her was gentle, but they stayed in each other’s arms for a long time. As she watched him leave she felt the stirrings of hope, a promise of better things.
*
Geoffrey Francis was not far from Cwm Derw. He had finished his calls for the day and was idly walking about one of the small towns nearby, doing a little shopping, buying a gift for his wife’s birthday and something for their baby daughter. Without much hope he asked at a few of the shops for someone called Sophie Daniels. No one he asked could help. He knew that it was likely she was married and her name would have changed. It seemed hopeless, but something made him keep trying.
He wasn’t far from the seaside, and although the day was glowering, with clouds low and filled with rain, he drove towards Barry, a few miles away, thinking that a walk on the sea front might be pleasant. He stopped in Cwm Derw, on the main road, and went into the newsagents to buy a magazine to read later.
‘Geoffrey?’
‘Daphne? I don’t believe it. What luck!’
‘What are you doing so far from London?’
‘Enjoying a change. And you?’
They talked briefly, then Geoffrey asked, ‘I don’t suppose you know where Sophie went, do you? I know her family used to live near here and I’ve asked in several places without any luck.’
‘Why are you looking for her?’
‘I don’t expect a loving reunion, that’s for certain. I just wanted to explain. I feel so guilty about what happened. I’m married now and very content, but what happened on that day still haunts me.’
‘Sophie too, I imagine.’
‘Exactly, which is why I’m trying to find her. Can you tell me where she is?’
‘No. But if you tell me where you’re staying, I’ll tell her where you are. Right?’
‘Perhaps we could meet this evening? The three of us?’
He wrote on a piece of paper the address of the guest-house and Daphne nodded. ‘Elsie Clements’s – er – Connors’s place. Yes, we’ll meet you there at seven. All right?’
‘Thank you.’ He walked back to the car, the walk along the beach forgotten. He needed to prepare what he would say to Sophie in a few hours’ time.
*
Sophie was at the farm, having arranged with Rachel to measure and list the furniture as a preliminary to deciding what they would need for the small bungalow she and Tommy intended to buy.
‘I have to remember that both Gareth and Ryan will want to keep some, so it’s probably only the very large items we’ll have to sell,’ Rachel said, touching the huge wardrobe that stood on the landing. ‘We were lucky to fit these things in here, but if we buy one of the new bungalows they don’t stand a chance.’
‘I went to look at the old farm yesterday and I met Sarah there,’ Sophie told her. ‘It’s still sound apart from one boarded-up window.’
‘Silly, I know, but I sometimes wish we were back there. I don’t mean move there when we leave here, that wouldn’t be sensible – too far away from everything and too much work – but everything seemed so simple when we lived in that old place, and I wish those days could return.’
‘I dream of going back in time, too. But in actual fact there’s nothing to go back for, not even a building. I lost everyone I loved.’
‘Have you ever gone back, to see where they’re resting? Talk to old friends?’
‘There aren’t any. What would be the point of going back? They all disappeared on that terrible day.’
‘But to walk along the roads, see the places they knew, wouldn’t it help?’
‘I didn’t even attend their funerals. I didn’t know until it was all over. So no, it wouldn’t help.’
‘Would you like some of these chairs?’ Rachel, surprised at the revelation, changed the subject to avoid distressing Sophie further. A dozen bentwood chairs were tucked away in one of the spare rooms. ‘In my mother’s day we had huge farm suppers to celebrate success at the sales and shows, or the retirement of one of the men or women who had worked here all their lives, or the birth of a child, and, of course, there were the annual suppers to celebrate harvest home. A great long table groaning with food and home-brewed beer. Laughter, good friendships, we were all a part of a wonderful team. We needed all these chairs then and still didn’t have enough. And now it will all end with Gareth and Ryan turning away from all that has been.’
‘What about Owen, doesn’t he plan to stay, follow on the traditions of the Treweathers?’
‘That’s never been the plan and he’s known that all his life. We gave him a home and a good living, but it’s always been made clear that the inheritance wasn’t his and never would be.’
‘He doesn’t resent that?’
‘Why should he? He’s been very lucky.’
There was a tightness about Rachel’s lips that forbade further questions. They went on listing and measuring in companionable silence. They decided to offer the chairs to the local community hall, and started on the linen.
Rachel gave Sophie a lift home, and when she walked up the path she saw she had a visitor. The gas light was glowing in the kitchen, and as she approached she smelled the tempting aroma of onions cooking.
‘Daphne? What’s happening?’
‘I’m making us some cheese and onion patties. Betty gave me some stale cheese and I found some onions and potatoes in your larder.’
‘Lovely, but why?’
‘We have to go out at a quarter to seven.’
‘Pictures? Lovely! Shall we invite Sarah and Bertie?’
‘No.’ She turned the heat low under the frying pan and held Sophie’s arms. ‘Look, I don’t want you to flip, but we’re meeting someone from your past.’
At once Sophie began to back away, shaking her head. ‘No, Daphne, you know how I hate surprises.’
‘Not a surprise, more a shock. It’s Geoffrey. He’s been searching for you – not to rekindle a romance,’ she added quickly. ‘In fact, he’s happily married. He wants to see you and explain.’ She released her hold on Sophie’s arms, and added, ‘I know you don’t owe him a thing, but I do think you need to listen to what he has to say. Lay one of your demons to rest, eh?’
>
It took a long time but she eventually persuaded her friend to go with her and meet the man who had hurt her so badly and contributed to her feelings of guilt.
*
Walking into Elsie’s lounge was like walking in treacle, her feet seemed so reluctant to take her forward to face the man who had hurt her. She had fleeting visions of herself waiting in a borrowed bridal gown and veil outside the church and she felt again the chill of that moment when she knew he wasn’t going to appear. She saw again the faces filled with both sympathy and embarrassment, and felt unable to breathe.
Sensing her anguish, Daphne said, ‘Remember this is to make him feel better. You’ve long ago risen above it all.’
Head held high, a false smile on her lips, she stepped into the room as Geoffrey leaped out of a chair and stood to face her.
Geoffrey hadn’t changed much, except that it was strange to see him in civvies, having imagined him in RAF uniform whenever she thought of him. She took in the worried frown, the slight tremor in his voice as he greeted her, then relaxed. Daphne was right, for her it was over.
Geoffrey spoke in jerky sentences as he admitted to losing his nerve, feeling pressured, wanting to cancel the wedding. ‘I was a coward, I admit that, but when I tried to tell you I wanted to wait I couldn’t. Then as I was about to leave for the church that morning I was called back to camp. I couldn’t get through on the phone and I left a message with the local police, begging them to contact you and explain, but I learned later that they failed to deliver it.
‘I was superstitious, I suppose, so many of my friends had been killed. I thought that marrying and making plans for when it was over would seal my fate and I’d join my friends and be nothing more than a name on a memorial.’
‘I pressured you.’
‘No, absolutely not! I pushed things too fast and I lost my nerve. You did nothing to deserve what happened. Nothing.’
Listening to him, taking in the halting words, Sophie felt the weight of the memory eased away. They didn’t stay long, just enough time to admire photographs of Geoffrey’s wife and baby daughter, and for Geoffrey to say, ‘I was so sorry to hear about your parents, and your brother and sister. I was fond of them.’
‘All my family being wiped out in a moment is still hard to accept.’
He was about to argue that it wasn’t the entire family, but presumed she had been referring to the immediate family and said nothing, not wanting to dwell on her sad memories.
Feeling some relief, comforted by Geoffrey’s kind words, Sophie walked back to Badgers Brook in the darkness of the September evening. As always the house wrapped itself around her, welcoming her. She stirred the fire and added fuel, and sat beside it trying to think more positively about her role in the hastily planned and sadly aborted marriage. Despite Geoffrey’s words, she knew that she had rushed him, but allowed herself to accept that he had wanted it too.
Everything had been frantic during those years; people grasped at happiness afraid that the morrow would see it disappear, like a rainbow, perfect and wonderful one moment, the next fading and vanishing for ever. She felt more cheerful than she had for a long time. The guilt over rushing the marriage arrangements and the humiliating outcome were drifting away. She knew the one thing left to do was visit the graves of her family, face up to that guilt, too. Then perhaps she would be free.
Surprisingly, the dream of the air raid returned that night. Meeting Geoffrey had revived more than memories of her disastrous wedding day. Although some of the guilt had been chipped away there was still the thought that if she hadn’t persuaded her family that the dangers were over and they would be better staying together, at least her brother and sister and grandparents might have survived.
She woke at about three a.m., tearful and choking with regrets, and got up to make a hot drink. She opened the back door and from the wood across the lane came the eerie sound of an owl. Apart from the lone hunter wandering the sky, and occasional rustlings of small creature on their own search for food, everything was quiet, and the peace of the early hour calmed her. But, afraid of a return to the dream, she sat up and read beside the still warm ashes of the fire for an hour before returning to bed.
*
Gareth left his friends to deal with the purchase of the farm, knowing that in a year he’d have his share of the money from the sale of Treweather Farm, which they would spend on rebuilding and stocking the place. Until then, Gareth, Brian and his wife would find work, live in the farmhouse, in truly primitive conditions, and wait. Before finding work he needed to find out what was happening at home; the occasional letters and phone calls created more queries than the solved.
‘I’ll stay a while,’ Gareth told his brother on the phone that evening, ‘and bemoan the fact that I’m desperate for money and Brian Powell is pestering me for my fifty per cent investment. If Owen is being secretive it has to be about money, so I’ll sympathize, complain about Dad’s meanness, even ask him to suggest a way of getting money out of him.’
‘I’ll stay here and pretend everything is smooth.’
‘No, Ryan. Let him hear us rowing, then storm off as though you don’t intend to come back.’
They discussed this for a while and made their plans.
When Ryan telephoned to tell his parents he would be home at the weekend, Rachel had answered. She explained with forced cheerfulness that she and Sophie were sorting out the house contents to decide what she would take to the new bungalow. ‘I’m glad you’re coming,’ she said. ‘While you’re here you can choose what you want from the list of unwanted pieces. We can always put them in store if you aren’t ready to take them.’
‘Have you given Owen the chance to pick what he wants?’
‘Oh yes, your father asked him but he said, rather huffily, that he doesn’t need a thing.’
Ryan’s expression was grim when he replaced the phone. With his cousin’s constant reminders of how attached he was to the family and its traditions, it didn’t make sense that he didn’t want a few mementoes.
*
Gareth and Ryan found it easy to create arguments every time Owen was near, and on Sunday morning Ryan built up a row that resulted in him leaving the farm before lunch, to which Daphne and Sophie had been invited.
It began with Gareth asking him for a loan. Making sure Owen was able to hear, Gareth pleaded at first, then accused his brother of selfishness, greed and a determination to ruin his chances.
‘I can’t expect Brian to wait for ever. Dad refuses to help me and you’re my last hope. I need the cash before next year if I’m to stop Brian taking another partner. He’s had several offers from people could can put the money up immediately. Men with supportive families. Not like mine, who resent my not wanting to stay and are making me suffer for it.’
The row went on and finally Ryan shouted, ‘I’m going back. I don’t have to listen to this. The farm in France is your choice and you should be dealing with the finances, not pestering the rest of us.’
‘But you’re my brother and I’m asking for your help.’
‘I’m leaving. If you wait a year you’ll have the money as Dad promised, but no, you have to have everything now, this minute! Well I’m not putting up with your miserable complaints any longer.’ He stomped up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door behind him. Then he stood, all pretence at anger gone, hoping that Owen had heard enough.
Then he stormed out of the house and drove off in a car he had borrowed. He was sorry not to see Sophie at their Sunday lunch, but he had another visit planned, one that wouldn’t wait. He stopped at Badgers Brook and explained what he and Gareth were planning, thanked her again for her help, kissed her lightly and left.
When he had found a place to stay the night he went straight to the flats and knocked on Victoria Morgan’s door. There was a heart-stopping silence and it wasn’t until he’d knocked three times that the door opened a crack and a carefully made-up lady with a smart hairstyle and carrying a cat under her arm peered
out.
‘You don’t know me,’ he began, but she had obviously been informed.
‘You’re enquiring about Sophie, I understand? You’d better come in.’
For no particular reason, he had been expecting a frail old lady like the two he’d recently met in the area, but this lady was attractive and beautifully dressed. There was no sign of a stoop, in fact she stood upright and seemed to challenge him with her bright, intelligent eyes. Her grey hair, with its hint of the fairness it might once have had, fell about her ears in soft waves in defiance of the combs with which she tried to control it. She had an air of authority as she demanded. ‘You’d better tell me why you’ve been trying to find me.’
‘Are you connected in any way to Sophie Daniels?’
The hazel eyes, so like Sophie’s, widened, but she said calmly, ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘She told me every single member of her family was killed when a V2 rocket landed on the street where they lived. She was in the WAAFs and didn’t know about it until the funerals had taken place. She blames herself, having persuaded them all to stay together as the war was almost over, and, well, she’s never been back. She can’t face that row of graves for which she feels responsible.’
‘She never came back to see me, and I’ve wondered why. Now I know. She thought I was dead like all the others.’
‘You’re a relative? She believes they all died that night.’
‘Young man, I am her grandmother.’
‘But I don’t understand. I – she – thought you all died. Why wasn’t she told?’
‘She didn’t come back or she’d have found me. I was in hospital for a while, then in a temporary room while the shop was repaired. When the shop was reopened, I didn’t want to stay there. I waited long enough to realize she wasn’t coming back and then I closed it, leaving my name there in case she did come looking for me. More than two years I waited, then I took this place, still hoping she’d walk in one day.’
A New Beginning Page 24