Time for Silence

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Time for Silence Page 17

by Philippa Carr


  “Something like that, I imagine. I’ll have my mechanic with me. He’ll fix the phones….That sort of thing would be beyond me. I’ll take the messages and send others…or something like that, I suppose.”

  “Oh, Robert, I’m proud of you.”

  “I’ve done nothing to be proud of.”

  “You have, and you will do more.”

  “Oh, I’m not made in the heroic mold. That’s for people like Major Merrivale. By the way, have you seen him lately?”

  “No. He’s in Gallipoli.”

  Robert looked grim.

  “So is Uncle Gerald,” I went on. “We’re quite anxious.”

  Robert nodded in understanding.

  My mother greeted him warmly. So did Aunt Celeste, who was often at Marchlands and enjoyed helping in the hospital.

  There was a good deal of talk, and Miss Carruthers and Andrée joined us. Then my mother, Andrée and I took Robert along to see Edward.

  “He’s growing fast,” commented Robert.

  Andrée looked at Edward with pride. “He’s going to be a big boy, aren’t you, Edward?”

  Edward muttered something and smiled benignly.

  We had lunch, and afterward my mother said, “Why don’t you and Robert go for a little ride, Lucinda? You used to love to ride round these lanes.”

  “I like the idea,” Robert said. “Don’t you, Lucinda?”

  “I do,” I said.

  Soon we were out, riding through the familiar countryside, as we used to before I went away to school and there was a war.

  We kept recalling incidents from the past.

  “Do you remember when we found the baby blackbird lying in the road?” Robert said.

  “Oh, yes. He’d fallen out of the nest. And you climbed a tree because we guessed the nest would be up there…and we put him back….And the next day we came to see if he was all right.”

  “Do you remember when your horse tripped over a log in the forest and you landed in a heap of leaves?”

  We laughed at the memory. There was so much to remember.

  “It seems so long ago,” I said, “because everything has changed.”

  “It will come back to normal.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I do. I shall be back with the estate and in time it will seem as though this never happened.”

  “I think that when this sort of thing comes it changes people and they can never be the same again.”

  “You’re not changing, are you, Lucinda?”

  “I feel different. I notice it…riding with you like this, and talking about what happened in the old days. Little things like the baby bird and the tumble in the forest. It takes me back, and for a moment I am as I was then…and then I can see that there is a lot of difference between that person and what I am today.”

  “I suppose we are all touched by experience, but what I mean is, are you the same Lucinda, my special friend?”

  “I hope I shall always be that, Robert.”

  “You must always be, no matter what happens.”

  “It’s a comfort to hear that. I’ve always been able to rely on you.”

  “The old predictable, as my sister calls me. She says it’s why I’m so dull. She always knows what I am going to do.”

  “Well, Annabelinda always believes she is right. She’s predictable enough in that.”

  “It’s true that I am predictable in most things, and I suppose that can be called unexciting.”

  “Well, I was very excited when I saw you this morning in uniform.”

  “You were the first one I wanted to show it off to.”

  “Are you going to your parents?”

  “Yes, this evening.”

  “And shall I see you before you go on your course?”

  “I plan to stay at home for two days. Then have one more day at Marchlands, if that is agreeable to you.”

  “I suppose you have to go home?”

  “I must. My father will have so much to tell me about the estate.”

  “You love the land, don’t you, Robert?”

  “I’ve been brought up to know that it will be mine one day…in the far distant future, I hope. I feel the same about it as my father does. As you know, he and I have always been the best of friends.”

  “My mother often says you are just like him.”

  “That’s the general opinion. My mother and sister are quite different.”

  “It’s odd to have such contrasts in one family. People say I am like my mother, but my mother says I have a lot of my father in me. I don’t know who Charles takes after. I suppose he’ll go into politics. At the moment, he is the only person I know who is praying for the war to go on until he is old enough to join the army.”

  “A good patriotic spirit!”

  “I think he is more concerned with the glory of Charles Greenham! He sees himself dashing into battle and winning the war in a week.”

  “He’ll grow up.”

  “I’m glad you are going on this course, Robert…because it will delay your going…out there.”

  “I’ll be all right, Lucinda. The old predictable. You’ll see me just obeying orders from my superior commanders. I’m the sort who muddles through.”

  “Don’t change, will you?”

  “I couldn’t if I tried. May I make the same request of you?”

  “Oh, look!” I said. “There’s the old Priory.”

  “What a difference! What have they done to it?”

  “There are new people there.”

  “Have they bought it?”

  “I think they must have. The old owners were so careless about it. Now there is a caretaker with a fierce dog to keep people out. Mind you, people did wander in and out. There were some broken windows and people used to get into the house. I suppose there’s a good reason for a caretaker.”

  “They’ve cleaned it up, haven’t they?”

  “Yes. I expect the new people will be moving in soon.”

  “Let’s hope they’ll be agreeable and add something to the social life of Marchlands.”

  “My parents are hoping they are good Liberals.”

  “Well, the Liberals haven’t got the monopoly now, have they? With this coalition, a Conservative has as good a chance of getting into the Cabinet.”

  “When my father comes home we hear something of what is going on. They are still harrying poor old Asquith.”

  “He won’t last much longer.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “The only good thing would be to finish off this war and get back to peace.”

  That evening Robert left us to join his family.

  “I shall see you in two days’ time,” he said. “Make sure that you keep the day free.”

  “I might even get Miss Carruthers to let me off lessons.”

  “I always forget you are a schoolgirl, Lucinda. But it is not for much longer, is it?”

  When he had gone I fell to thinking of Marcus Merrivale. He, with Robert, was looking forward to the time when I grew up.

  I felt honored, and at the same time uneasy. When I was with Robert I knew exactly that it was where I wanted to be; but then, the exhilarating company of Marcus Merrivale was quite intoxicating.

  It was Christmas again and then the New Year, 1916. Nothing was going well. It was acknowledged that the plan to capture the Dardanelles had been a failure.

  There were some who agreed with Churchill that it was a brilliant idea but that it had been badly carried out.

  The Secretary of State for War, Lord Kitchener, had gone out to the Dardanelles to advise withdrawal. There was no hope of victory there and it was a waste of men and ammunition to carry on. And now, in January of that year, the troops from Gallipoli began to arrive back in England.

  It was at the end of that month when Uncle Gerald came to see us. He looked older than he had when he left. He told us that the campaign should never have been undertaken.

  He played it out at lunch at the tab
le.

  “Doomed to fail from the start,” he said. “A lack of surprise, for one thing. They sent us part-time soldiers. We lacked experienced men, and believe me, that’s what was needed for an enterprise like this. There weren’t enough supplies. There was an acute shortage of shells. Asquith must go!”

  “Churchill has already gone,” my father reminded him.

  “Churchill’s idea was all right. That could have worked. It was the way it was tackled which destroyed us. You see, here we are….” My mother looked apprehensively at his wine glass. “And here…” He swung the cruet into line. “…the Turk.”

  For a moment we watched him moving plates and dishes around the table. It did not look in the least like a battlefield to me and I was longing to ask for news of Marcus Merrivale.

  “It hasn’t done much for our prestige. This is the beginning of the end for Asquith. Consider our losses, Joel…nearly a quarter of a million men…and many from the Empire. It’s a disaster, Joel. A disaster. I daresay you’ve been hearing about it all in the House.”

  “They’ve talked of little else since Kitchener’s verdict.”

  “Heads will fall, Joel. Heads will fall.”

  “I daresay you are glad to be back, Gerald,” said my mother. “What about Major Merrivale? Is he back with you?”

  “They are all coming back. Merrivale was wounded.”

  “Wounded!” said my mother. “Badly?”

  “Hm. He went straight to the hospital.”

  “He could have come here,” said my mother.

  “My dear Lucie, I think he was really rather badly hurt.”

  My mother bristled and Uncle Gerald relented a little.

  “In cases like this,” he said, “they’re taken off to one of the London hospitals.”

  “How badly hurt is he?” I asked.

  “Oh, he’ll come through. Trust Merrivale for that. But it was a bit more than a sniper’s bullet.”

  “Which hospital is he in?” asked my mother.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know the details…just that he was a stretcher case.”

  I felt sick. I could imagine…a stretcher case. How was he? I wanted to see him.

  My mother said, “We have a special interest in him, you know, Gerald, after, he brought Lucinda, Edward and the others out of Belgium.”

  “Oh, I know. A great fellow. He’s not at death’s door. Just needs a bit of patching up.”

  “You must find out more details and let us know. I think that if he is in a London hospital, the least Lucinda and I can do is visit him, Joel. I don’t forget what he did for Lucinda. Heaven knows what might have happened if he hadn’t looked after her, and we shall always be grateful to you, Gerald, for sending him to look after her.”

  “Seemed the best thing to do. He’s a very resourceful fellow. Well, you’d expect that. There’s only one Merrivale.”

  “Well, do let us know, Gerald. We’d love to go and see him, wouldn’t we, Lucinda?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “We would.”

  In his precise way, Uncle Gerald sent the information to us in a few days.

  My mother said it was not easy to leave the hospital but under the circumstances she thought it necessary.

  Andrée said she would like to come with us. Not that she would accompany us to the hospital, for she was sure three people would be too many, but she wanted to go to London to get some things for Edward.

  “Do you remember that musical box he had? It played the Brahms lullaby when it opened. I know he misses it. He was opening a box yesterday and clearly listening. He looked so disappointed because there was no tune.”

  “Fancy his remembering all that time,” said my mother. “But it’s a haunting melody and I suppose even a child would be aware of that.”

  “It is that and a few other things I should like to get,” said Andrée.

  “It seems a good idea,” replied my mother.

  So we went.

  Marcus was in a ward with several other officers. He was lying on his back and not quite his usual exuberant self; but he grinned at us.

  “This is wonderful,” he said. “How good of you to come and see this poor old crock.”

  “I don’t think the term applies,” said my mother. “Gerald told us you were improving every day.”

  “My progress will leap forward after this visit. Do sit down.”

  “Please don’t move,” said my mother.

  “It would be rather impossible, I fear. They’ve got me strapped up a bit.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Wonderful…because you and Lucinda have come to see me.”

  My mother laughed. “I’m serious, Major Merrivale.”

  “So am I. And please don’t call me Major.”

  “Marcus,” said my mother. “We are so glad that you are home.”

  “Does that go for Miss Lucinda also?”

  “Of course it does,” I said. “We were worried about you when we heard things were not going well.”

  He grimaced. “Something of a shambles, eh? However, it’s brought me home.”

  “Where you will be staying for some time,” added my mother.

  “That seems very likely.”

  “We were disappointed that you did not come to our hospital,” I told him.

  “What a pleasure that would have been…worth getting hit for.”

  “Oh, don’t say that!” said my mother. “Marchlands is an excellent place for convalescence. The forest, you know. Perhaps later on…”

  “You mean I might come to Marchlands? Nothing could help me more to make a speedy recovery.”

  “Then we shall do what we can to arrange it. I daresay Gerald could do something. He can fix most things.”

  “From henceforth I shall make myself a nuisance here, so that they will be only too glad to get rid of me.”

  I did not think that would be the case. It was clear that that inimitable charm worked here as everywhere else and the nurses enjoyed looking after him.

  The matron came in while we were there—a stern-faced, middle-aged woman who looked as though she would be capable of keeping a regiment in order—and even she softened and chided him gently because he was getting too excited.

  Our visit was not a long one, but it was the maximum time allowed.

  I felt a little uneasy as we left the ward, for I was sure Marcus was putting on a show of being in a much better condition than he actually was.

  My mother was able to have a word with the doctor before we left. Marchlands was now known in the medical world as one of those country houses given over to the wounded since the beginning of the war, and therefore a certain respect was accorded her.

  We were taken into a small room, and seated at a desk was Dr. Glenning.

  He told us to be seated, and my mother then said, “Major Merrivale is a very special friend. How badly has he been wounded?”

  “Well, there are worse cases.”

  “And better,” added my mother.

  The doctor nodded. “Some internal injuries. A bullet—most fortunately—just missed his lungs. The bullet has been extracted, but as you know, it is a vital area and we have to be watchful. There is some damage to the right leg. But that is minor compared with the internal trouble.”

  “I see. He is not…in danger?”

  The doctor shook his head to and fro. “Oh, he’s got a good chance of recovery. He’s very strong…in excellent condition. I’d say his chances of getting back to normal are good, but it is going to take time.”

  “My daughter and I were thinking that Marchlands would be a good place for him to come for convalescence. We were wondering if the major could come to us.”

  “I could not allow him to be moved just now, and this is going to be a long job. Later…if he continues to improve…I don’t see why not. He’s going to need convalescence, and to be among friends would be good for him. Yes, I think in due course
, Mrs. Greenham, he might well go to Marchlands.”

  “And…he really is not in danger…?? I put in.

  “No more than most. We’re never quite sure how these things are going to turn out. You probably know, Mrs. Greenham….But I would say he has a fair chance of recovery.”

  “That’s good news,” said my mother. “Have you any idea about when…?”

  The doctor pursed his lips and looked thoughtful.

  “Well, I should think at least a couple of months.”

  “As long as that!”

  “Rather a grave injury, Mrs. Greenham.”

  “Well, we shall look forward to receiving him at Marchlands. Will you let us know when it will be safe for him to come?”

  “Indeed I will do that.”

  “In the meanwhile we shall be visiting him. We came up especially today.”

  “Marchlands keeps you busy, I’ve heard.”

  “Very busy all the time.”

  “We’ve had a rush of casualties after the Dardanelles debacle. Not that there are not a large number coming from France all the time.”

  “Let’s hope it will soon be over.”

  “I’d second that, Mrs. Greenham.”

  He shook hands and repeated his promise that he would let us know when Marcus was well enough to travel, and we left the hospital in a happier mood than that in which we had arrived.

  We had seen him. He was ill, but not so ill that he would not recover—and in time he would come to Marchlands.

  Returning to Marchlands, I felt a sense of elation. I realized I was happier than I had been since the ill-fated Dardanelles venture had begun. I had been thinking about Marcus a great deal and every time the campaign had been mentioned, I had been conscious of a cold fear. Now it was over. He was wounded, yes; but he was still alive, and with his irrepressible spirits he would recover.

  And in time we should have him under our care in Marchlands.

  My mother sensed my mood and shared it.

  “He is such a charming man,” she said. “I could not bear to think of anything happening to change him. He’ll recover quicker than most. Since the hospital started, I’ve noticed that optimism is one of the best cures to help a patient along the road to recovery.”

  Andrée was eager to hear the news of Marcus, but I could see she wanted to get back to Marchlands and Edward. She hated leaving him even for a day.

 

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