by Gloria Cook
After a moment, Emilia called out, ‘Come in.’
Her heart racing, Jill entered and closed the door with extra care. She shuffled awkwardly. ‘Please forgive the intrusion, Mrs Em.’
Emilia looked up out of tear-stained eyes from where she was sitting at the window, a crumpled soaked hanky in her hand. She had a golden-brown teddy bear on her lap. ‘You’re not intruding, Jill. I was expecting the telegram. I knew, you see. I’m his mother. I knew the exact moment… when Will left this earth. He’s with his father and little sister now. I shall find comfort in that.’ She allowed herself to find comfort in Jill. She was glad it wasn’t Perry who had come. She wanted some moments to think back over the time when her family was young, before Perry had come into her life. She owed Will, and Alec, that. And she was glad it wasn’t a member of the family. Lottie and Tom and her father too needed a little time alone to adjust to their loss. And Tilda, dear Tilda, needed to keep busy. This gentle newcomer, who had such a soothing effect on everyone, would make ideal company for a few minutes.
Jill perched on the foot of the bed. From her skirt pocket, she eased out the letter Will had placed in her keeping. ‘Mrs Em, I’ve come because I’ve got something for you. I was hoping I’d never have to pass it on. This is from Will. He wrote it during his last leave. He asked me to give it to you in the event… in the event he…’
‘He was killed,’ Em finished for her. Fresh tears cascaded silently down her face. ‘Th-thanks, Jill. I’m sure I’ll treasure every word.’
With hot tears stinging her eyes, Jill placed Will’s last gift to his mother into her hungry hands. Overcoming her shyness and awkwardness, she hugged Emilia and kissed her cheek. ‘I’m so very sorry. I grew to like Will very much. I’ll never forget him. I’ll leave you alone to read his letter.’
When she reached the door, Emilia said, ‘Thank you. You’re such a kind person. You haven’t heard from your Ronnie yet, have you?’
‘No. There’s been nothing.’
‘I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard, isn’t it? The waiting, trying to be brave. Jill, you’re always very welcome to come to me, if you want someone older than Lottie or Tom to talk to. You can come to me at any time.’
‘Thanks, Mrs Em. That means a lot to me.’ Jill hastened away. The instant she was out of hearing, she burst into tears. She cried fiercely for Will. For the grief of his family, now her friends. As she ran to her own quarters her heart was breaking over Ronnie’s inexplicable silence. Please God, please let Ronnie be all right. She flung herself on to her bed and buried her head under the pillow. Lonely and afraid, she faced fully for the first time that for some reason she might have lost the man she loved.
Chapter Thirteen
With noisy effort, Bruce Ashley struggled to sit up straight on the couch while Louisa plumped up the pillows behind him. He was staying in one of her back bedrooms, which he’d only left, since the day of their first meeting, for the bathroom and a twice-weekly struggle to the churchyard.
‘I don’t deserve this,’ he said in his rasp of a voice, panting as he collapsed back against the substantial padding. ‘I can’t come to terms with all your continuing kindness to me. I’m a stranger.’
‘We’ve gone over this many times, Mr Ashley. I’m happy to have you and so is Ada.’ Louisa had talked over the fate of her guest to Ada that first evening, after her shift at the workshops where parts for Spitfires were made, while they’d prepared dinner together. Bruce Ashley’s sorrowful and regretful pilgrimage had stirred Ada’s heart too. ‘Well, ’tisn’t as if he’s up to hurting none of us,’ Ada, a lanky, brightly natured thirty-five-year-old, had deliberated, cutting up rabbit meat – the rabbit sent over from Tremore Farm – for a stew that would last them two days at least. ‘You can’t just send him away, Miss Louisa. Wouldn’t be right. Wouldn’t be Christian. He’s got a terrible wheeze on him. Noisy as a traction engine.’
Louisa had been biting her lip. ‘Are you sure, Ada? Absolutely sure? We could take him in for a few days until he’s a little stronger.’
They had gone into the drawing room to deliver their decision with warmth and smiles to Bruce Ashley. For a moment he had seemed stunned. When he’d tried to speak he’d been gripped by a prolonged, painful burst of coughing. ‘Ada, phone the doctor, please. I’m sure Mr Ashley would benefit from a visit from him.’ Louisa had not doubted then, or since, that she was doing the right thing in giving this man shelter.
‘I can’t thank you enough,’ Bruce Ashley had managed finally, wiping at his watering eyes and dribbling mouth. ‘I’ve nowhere to go and very little money. I’m afraid I’ve no ration books, I found it necessary to sell them. All that I have in the world is what I have with me. All my life I’ve taken advantage of women, giving no thought to their hopes and expectations, but the generous offer of hospitality from you both makes me feel humble and very ashamed. I’d have you know that my past association in this pleasant little cathedral city of yours was not a happy one. If any of Ursula’s family still reside hereabouts they’d see to it that I was hounded out. I also left owing various people money. I have not been an honourable man, Mrs Carlyon. If you still consider it right to allow me to stay, I think it would be wise to keep my presence confidential.’
‘You needn’t worry about a thing, Mr Ashley. The late Mrs Harvey’s family are a snooty lot. They’ve shunned their own grandson, Jonny, since her death, and as Jonny is a particular friend of mine they ignore me too, and I’m glad to do the same to them. No one but Ada and myself and the doctor will know you’re here. He’s too young to know who you are. I’ll tell him you’re an old friend of my aunt’s and the same message will go to any curious neighbours.’
Bruce Ashley had found a small, grateful smile. At length he’d said, with a nervous grimace, ‘I’ll keep nothing from you. It would be a terrible shock for Jonny Harvey to encounter me. The last time he saw me, Mrs Carlyon, I was planning with Ursula to abduct him, and when the game was up, in my cowardice, I pulled a gun on his father and Emilia Harvey. It wasn’t loaded but it terrified everyone. And then, of course, I ran out on his mother, leaving her to die. Jonny Harvey must hate me and rightly so. You could be risking your friendship.’ He started to weep and this made him cough. ‘I’m a dreadful, dreadful man.’
Throughout the years, Jonny had never mentioned his mother’s lover. He had been told the significance of the couple’s doomed relationship in his youth, to anticipate the possibility of a slipped tongue or a shock announcement from a spiteful gossip. Louisa had studied the weak, pathetic huddle of a man before her. There was no trace of the once dashing young man Bruce Ashley must have been. From the very first moment, he had roused her compassion and a desire to protect him, and she’d said, ‘Nonetheless, your welcome here is in no way inhibited. Jonny is currently on injury leave. I’ll be careful that when he calls here he’ll have no notion of me having a guest.’
Bruce Ashley said now, ‘If it’s possible, I’d like to go to Ursula this afternoon.’
Louisa glanced out of the window. ‘I’m afraid the clouds are building up. It looks like it’s going to rain.’
‘That doesn’t matter.’
‘I’m sorry, but it does. Dr Radcliffe said you must keep warm and dry. You have your chest to consider.’
‘The doctor confirmed that I’m slowly dying. Emphysema, greatly worsened by my wanton lifestyle and previous smoking habit.’ He looked up towards the ceiling, and past it, as if picturing himself in the next life. There was the look of desperate hope Louisa saw in him so often. She was sure he was wishing for what he wanted most, eternity with Ursula. Then came the next expression, of resignation that it wouldn’t be so, because, she guessed, as he’d regularly repeated, he’d left it too late to make things up to Ursula. After closing his eyes for a second, he tried to sit up. His voice came faintly but vehemently, ‘The sooner I pop off, the less work and bother I’ll give to you and Ada. Sorry, that was indelicate of me. I know you don’t approve of such an idea.
But I really ought to leave your house. I’ve got nothing I can sell to pay for my burial. I can’t allow you to be burdened with that too.’
‘I’ve thought that far ahead.’ She steered him gently back to rest. ‘I’ve been waiting for the right moment to broach this to you. Please don’t be offended. You see, I’ve talked to the vicar. I know it was forward of me, but he’s a sympathetic person. He’s said that if you’re willing to confess to him, and to accept, when the time comes, the last rites, he’ll arrange for you to be interred fairly near to Ursula. Somewhere where Jonny’s not likely to read the name on the headstone.’
‘Mrs Carlyon. Louisa, if I may call you that.’ His face was an anguish of emotion. A distortion of emotional pain. ‘How could you ever offend me? I can never thank you enough for allowing me to die with dignity, hope and peace. Your goodness shames me. But please, my name is unworthy to be inscribed. There should be no memorial to me at all. To be lying close to my dear, beloved lady will be enough.’
‘I don’t like the idea of you in an unmarked grave, Mr Ashley. Bruce.’
He shook his head. ‘Oh, a simple wooden cross, perhaps with my initials on. My first name is actually John. My mother called me Bruce, after her father. If you please, ‘J.B.A.’ will do me well. No one will know who really lies beneath that scrap of ground. And dispose of me as simply as you can, to save the cost.’ He cried, breaking into sobs, making no attempt to stop, despite the agony it caused to his chest and breathing.
Louisa held him. He held on to her. It was the first time in several months he had been this close to a woman, the first time in years he had been held kindly.
The rain fell so heavily after lunch that an excursion to the churchyard, which would have been undertaken with Bruce in Louisa’s late uncle’s bath chair, was totally out of the question. He tried to read a book, but disappointment and frailty quickly took their toll and he slept deeply, to Louisa’s satisfaction. In the kitchen, the warmest room, surrounded by the bric-a-brac she collected for jumble to raise money for the bombed-out, she set about unravelling a bundle of used knitted garments.
She was interrupted by a dripping, ashen-faced Tom on her back doorstep. She took him through to dry off, and while shooting worried glances at him, put the kettle on the hob. ‘What is it? It’s easy to see something’s wrong.’
Tom gazed at her gravely. A tear gathered at the corner of his eye.
Louisa sucked in her breath and clutched her hands together. ‘Is it Jonny? Or Will?’
The tear tumbled down from its precarious rest. ‘Will,’ he replied throatily. ‘We’ve lost Will. Jonny’s managed to get hold of some details. He’d been out alone gathering intelligence. One second he was speaking through his earphones, then there was the sound of an enormous explosion. His plane must have been hit, blown apart. There’s no chance he’d have survived. At least it would have been over very quickly. I had to get away for a while, Louisa. I told Mum I’d come and tell you personally, rather than you receiving a phone call.’
Her arms outstretched, crying too, she shot across the kitchen to him. ‘Oh, Tom, I’m so sorry. Poor Will. Poor Aunt Em. She must be devastated. And Lottie. How are they?’
Tom clung to her. ‘Mum’s being strong. Lottie’s pretending to be. Mum’s got Perry. Lottie’s got Jill. Jill’s been a brick to all of us. And Granddad’s there too, of course. I can’t believe it, Louisa.’ He shook against her. ‘I can’t believe Will’s dead. That he’ll never come back to us, jaunty and confident and superior. Chasing girls with me. It’s all so bloody awful.’
They drank tea at the table. ‘I feel so lost. So appallingly lost.’ Tom gulped from the china mug. ‘But I’ve got to buck up. I’m now the eldest son, oh God, I’m the only son. I’ve got big responsibilities. I promised Will I’d look after Mum and Lottie. I’m scared, Lou.’
She patted his arm. ‘You’ll manage very well, Tom. I’ve every confidence in you.’
‘I wish Mum wasn’t having this baby. It’s not that I don’t welcome a little brother or sister. It’s Mum’s age, and this wretched war.’
‘Aunt Em’s strong and she’s still young. Some women have babies much later in life. She’ll be fine. I know Perry’s got no midwifery skills but he’s an experienced surgeon. He’ll be keeping a close watch on her. And she’s got three women at the farm.’
‘Yes, you’re right.’ Tom sighed out some of the tension. ‘I suppose everything will turn out fine, but I’d hate for Mum to lose another child.’
Louisa cradled her hand over his. He laid his other hand on top. His hands, large and work-roughened, hers, small and pale and soft. ‘Tom, how’s your Uncle Tristan taking the news about Will?’
‘I went over to Tremore myself. He was dreadfully upset. Had to sit down. Of course, he’ll have Jonny on his mind more than ever, especially now he’s flying ops again. I hope Faye will be back soon to keep him company.’
‘I had a quick phone call from Jonny two days ago, just to say hello.’ Louisa reflected on the dinner she had shared one night with Jonny at Opie’s Restaurant, in the town. ‘It’s bad enough thinking about myself,’ he’d said at one point, ‘but I’ve got all the young novice pilots under my care to look out for. Just boys some of them are, straight out of school. I’ve waited in vain for a lot of planes to come back. Seen too many blasted into oblivion or hitting the drink. I’ve seen some horrific burns. It’s what we all fear the most.’ It was the only reference he’d made to the dangers he constantly faced. The rest of the evening had been spent reliving happy childhood memories, laughing, enjoying each other’s company. Neither had mentioned the future, sharing the motto wait and see.
They’d walked along the dark, quiet streets and up the long hill to her house, arm in arm. Jonny had declined a cup of coffee and straddled the bicycle he’d borrowed. ‘Hope you don’t mind me shooting off. I’m meeting one of Uncle Ben’s land girls. Can’t keep her up too long, the dear darling. Bet you think I’m awful.’
‘The poor girl probably thinks she’s in love with you, but I’d never think you awful, Jonny. You’re my special, wonderful friend. Please take care.’
‘You too. And you’re very special to me, Lou. Curious, isn’t it? Why you and I have this distinct bond. I mean, I adore you but I’d never think of trying anything on with you.’ He’d kissed both her cheeks and she did the same to his. They’d indulged in a lingering, tender embrace.
‘It’s you I think of when I’m up in the clouds,’ he’d whispered, with some emotion. ‘You I look forward to coming back to.’ He’d cycled off.
She’d prayed it wouldn’t be the last time she saw him. She repeated that silent, lonely prayer now.
‘You’re very close to Jonny,’ Tom said. ‘I’d always thought you’d get together, that you had an understanding. I was surprised when you married David.’
‘Jonny and I will never include romance in our relationship. I can’t explain it, we have some kind of unique connection. Rather like a brother and sister, I suppose. Why did you mention it?’
‘I don’t know really.’ There was a noise overhead. He looked ceilingward. ‘What was that? Is Ada home?’
‘I, um…’ Louisa reddened. She was no good at telling lies, particularly to someone as close to her as Tom was.
There was another thud from above. Tom saw her discomfort. ‘Someone is upstairs. It’s not a…? Have you got someone up there?’
‘Tom Harvey! What do you think I am? No, it’s nothing like that. I have a guest. He’s not well. In fact he’s very ill. He was sleeping when I last looked in on him. A book or something must have fallen off the bed. Will you excuse me? I’d better slip up and see if he wants anything.’
‘He? Who is he?’
‘Oh, you wouldn’t know him. Stop looking at me like that, Tom. He’s the same age as your Uncle Tristan but his illness makes him look much older.’
Louisa looked in on Bruce. He was still sleeping, fitfully now, breathing heavily and jerking about. She picked th
e book and a newspaper up off the floor and laid a cold, wet flannel over his feverish forehead. She’d check on him again in half an hour and if she thought it necessary, she’d summon the doctor.
When she closed the bedroom door Tom was there on the landing. ‘Anything I can do?’
‘No. He’s sleeping.’
‘But who is he? It’s nothing new for you to do someone a kindness, Lou, but why are you being mysterious about this chap?’
‘I’m not!’
‘Why the protest?’ Tom eased her away from the door. ‘I think I’d better take a look at him.’
She clamped a hand over his on the glass doorknob. ‘No! Don’t you dare. I mean, you mustn’t disturb him.’
Tom pulled his hand away, taking hers with it. Then he clutched both her hands in an indomitable grip. He stared into her eyes, trying to read her thoughts, her reasons, her anxieties. ‘We’ve been friends all our lives. I don’t like this, Lou. If you have a lover, well, it’s none of my business, but otherwise I can’t understand this secrecy. Are you in any kind of trouble? You would tell me if you were?’
Because his pleading was out of friendship and affection, and in view of his recent grief, she couldn’t leave him in a state of worry over her. ‘All right, Tom. Take a peep into the room. You’ll see a frail, middle-aged man who’s succumbing to a fatal disease. Reassure yourself that he’s in no position to threaten me. He doesn’t want any visitors but to be left to die in peace and dignity. Please, Tom, I’m asking you to keep his presence here to yourself.’
Tom did as she said and saw the fragile individual with a heavy breathing problem slumbering uneasily in the bed. After she’d shut the door a second time, he asked, ‘Is he someone to do with Ada?’