by June Francis
‘But why?’ asked eight-year-old James, gazing up at her from beneath a bang of curling black hair.
‘Yes, why?’ His sister, who was two years younger, also looked up at their aunt from anxious green-brown eyes.
Tilly hesitated, not knowing whether to tell them the truth straight out. But before she could make the decision, her nephew wrenched himself out of her grasp and tore after his mother; Flora was only a few seconds after him. Tilly followed in their wake.
* * *
Alice burst through the door into the kitchen, her breath coming fast. She saw a strange man out of the corner of her eye but most of her attention was for her husband, sitting at the table. ‘Seb, love, sweetheart!’ she gasped.
He did not look up and, bewildered, she hurried around the table so that she could see his face. As he lifted his head, shock splintered through her, shooting along her nerves into her brain and every part of her body. She went hot and cold, and then slipped into unconsciousness.
The children were just in time to see their father’s attempt to prevent their mother from falling to the floor. But it was a stranger who caught her and lifted her into his arms. He looked at Seb as if for instruction but his face was stricken and he turned away, bending over the table.
‘Dad!’ James’s voice was hesitant. Why had his mother fainted? And why didn’t his father look at him? He wanted to see his face properly, noticing that his shoulders were shaking as if he was either laughing or crying; both seemed impossible.
‘Daddy, Daddy!’ screamed Flora as she flung her arms about Seb’s legs.
Tilly had hurried after the children with the pram and now appeared in the doorway. Her gaze swiftly took in the situation. ‘Carry her into the drawing room, Mr Pierce. I’ll show you the way.’
‘Wait! I’ll… come… with you,’ said Seb, sounding as if he was being strangled. He reached down a hand and ruffled the red-gold hair of his daughter.
‘Dad!’ James had moved round the table, so when Seb lifted his head, the boy was able to gaze straight at his father’s disfigurement. For a moment neither moved; their eyes glued to the other’s face. Then Flora tugged at Seb’s jacket and, almost reluctantly, he gazed down at his daughter. This time her scream seemed to shatter his eardrums. Then she went stumbling backwards. He reached out a hand but she evaded it, turned and scurried from the kitchen. James looked one more time at his father from unbelieving wide-eyes, and then went after her.
Donald Pierce swore. But Tilly hurried over to Seb and put a hand on his arm. ‘They’ll come round,’ she said. ‘Alice…’
He nodded as if in a dream and croaked, ‘The drawing room, Don.’
‘Alice, wake up!’
At the feel of cold water on her face, Alice took a shuddering breath and opened her eyes to see Tilly gazing down at her. Alice lifted her head and looked about her, and realised she was lying on the sofa in the drawing room. She remembered seeing Seb and everything spun round her.
‘Where’s Seb? I didn’t dream he was in the kitchen, did I?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said Tilly, putting a hand on her arm.
Alice sat up. ‘Where is he?’
‘In the garden with Mr Pierce. He carried you in here despite his bad foot.’
Alice clutched her sister’s sleeve with a shaking hand. ‘What about Seb? Why isn’t he here with me?’
‘He was but he left through the french windows as soon as you started coming round.’
Alice could not make sense of why he had left her alone. ‘You’re sure he’s in the garden?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I heard their voices only a few moments ago. Fortunately, Seb prevented you from hitting the floor, but he couldn’t lift you up because he has hardly any strength in his right arm.’
‘So it was true what he wrote about his arm, but he kept quiet about… about…’ She paused and put a hand against her mouth. ‘What must he think of me?’ she asked in a muffled voice.
Tilly hesitated. ‘He looked devastated.’
‘Don’t!’ whispered Alice. ‘I can’t bear it.’
‘You have to bear it,’ said Tilly, her voice trembling. ‘James and Flora followed you in and they had a terrible shock, too. They ran out of the room and are upstairs. I’ll go up to them later.’
‘His-his face… it’s not so bad. It-he cou-could have…’ Alice’s voice trailed off and she took several deep breaths before saying, ‘Help me up. I must see him. I have to speak to him, I can’t let him think…’
‘No, you can’t let him think he looks like a freak in a fairground show,’ said Tilly, her voice cracking on the words.
‘Oh my God, is that what he thinks?’ The tears ran unheeded down Alice’s face.
Tilly helped her sister to her feet. ‘I’ll come with you. Get Mr Pierce away… ask if he’s staying for tea. Then I’ll go up and speak to Flora and James.’
Alice laughed on a slightly hysterical note. ‘It sounds so normal asking someone if they’re staying for tea. Yet everything feels so peculiar.’
Tilly hoisted her sister to her feet. ‘Perhaps I should ask him if he would like to stay the night. He’s come a long way to get Seb home and he’s got a damaged foot.’
‘How did they manage it?’ Alice rested a hand on her sister’s shoulder and steadied herself.
‘By a miracle. He found Seb, you know, said he felt responsible for him.’
‘Then we must feed him and he has to stay the night. We owe him that. Perhaps I should bake a cake,’ she said, still feeling on the edge of hysteria.
‘I’ll bake the cake,’ said Tilly.
‘OK. You bake the cake. Oh, Tilly, why did I have to faint? I never faint!’ she wailed.
Tilly hugged her sister. ‘Stop worrying. A few big kisses will convince Seb just how much you still love him,’ she said bracingly.
If only that could be true, thought Alice, not convinced. She freed herself from her sister’s embrace and walked over to the french windows. Her knees were shaking as she stepped outside. What was she going to say to her husband? Accusing him of keeping the truth from her would certainly not help. Yet he should have been honest with her. Had he believed her not strong enough to cope, thought that she would turn from him in disgust? Had her fainting proved him right? But if he had told her then she would have been prepared and most likely not have fainted. If she could have visited him and seen him alone she could have prepared the children. Instead she was unsure how she was going to cope with him and the children and continue doing all her duties now Tilly was working at the yard. She was aware of her sister just behind her and was glad to have her nearby. She realised that she vaguely resented her wanting a career like a man, instead of being set on marriage and having children. Was that because, at the moment, she felt unable to cope with those things herself? One thing was for sure, she held the suffragette movement responsible.
Alice now saw the two men and her heart seemed to jump into her throat. They were standing near the rose arbour and had their backs towards the house. For a moment she was reluctant to interrupt them, guessing they were discussing her. She wished that she did not feel so sick with apprehension. Seb’s homecoming should have filled her with joy, but now she was nervous about facing him and worrying too much about what she should say to speak naturally. Her feet made no sound as she trod across the grass and she realised that they were still unaware of her approach. It was not until she was a yard or so away that their heads turned in her direction. At the sight of Seb’s face she felt that shock again like a blow.
‘I shouldn’t have fainted,’ she burst out. ‘Stupidly, I was expecting you to be just the same, but neither of us are that.’
‘No. Nothing can ever be the same again,’ said Seb harshly, and looked away, presenting her with what she was to come to call his old or good side.
Donald Pierce touched his arm. ‘Listen, mate. You two are better talking in private. I’ll leave you alone.’
Alice turned and flashed him a genuine smile. ‘You’ll sta
y to tea, Mr Pierce?’
‘Of course, he’ll stay to bloody tea,’ snapped Seb, whirling round. ‘We’ve travelled hundreds of miles today. He must stay the night, too.’
‘Hey, take it easy, mate,’ said Donald. He dropped his voice to add, ‘I’d appreciate a bed for the night but remember what we decided. Your wife’s not to blame for what happened.’
Seb’s lips tightened and without a word he seized Alice’s arm and pulled her into the shelter of the rose arbour.
Tilly turned away then, aware that Donald Pierce was watching her. ‘I find it hard to believe you’re only fifteen. Seb said you were an old soul.’
Tilly was taken aback. ‘What does he mean by that? Alice has called me mature but…’
‘I’m sure it was meant as a compliment. Now, shall we give them some time alone,’ he said, taking her arm.
Tilly shrugged off his hand. ‘I didn’t plan on staying and listening to their conversation,’ she said, her colour high. She had never met anyone quite like this American. ‘I’m going to make a cake. Would you like another cup of tea?’
He shook his head. ‘What I’d like is a walk but that’s a dumb idea with this damned foot. Pardon my French.’ He cocked a comical eyebrow. ‘Perhaps I could watch you make your cake.’
An idea suddenly occurred to Tilly. ‘I tell you what you could do. You could talk to James and Flora about how you found Seb and about what happened to him. I know they’re only children, but I think they need to understand he’s still their father and is going to need their support. Trouble is, they’re upstairs. You can manage stairs?’
‘Will do, if you think that will help.’ He smiled down at her. ‘There’s just the little question about my motorbike and sidecar. Are they an honest lot round here?’
Tilly smiled. ‘As honest as most but perhaps you’re best bringing it onto the drive. You don’t want to put temptation in people’s way.’
‘Will do,’ he said, giving her a mock salute before limping round the side of the house.
She felt a pang of sympathy, thinking of Kenny and his difficulty with walking. Then she headed for the kitchen, noticing that Georgie was asleep in his perambulator outside. She wondered what Seb thought of his younger son – that was if he had noticed him, of course.
* * *
The air was heavy with the scent of the second flowering roses as Alice and Seb sat on the rustic seat in the arbour. There was a space between them and they were looking straight ahead.
‘The children have grown,’ said Seb, gripping his damaged arm.
‘Yes. Although, it would be odd if they hadn’t. What do you think of Georgie?’
‘I can’t say that I noticed him.’
Alice half-turned to her husband. ‘You must have seen him. He was asleep in the perambulator outside the kitchen door.’
He frowned. ‘I didn’t come out that way. I came through the french windows.’
‘Of course. I forgot. Tilly told me.’
A muscle in Seb’s throat constricted and for a moment he felt as if he could not breathe, and then he managed to ease the tightness by swallowing. ‘How are James and Flora getting on at school?’
‘Fine. I did write and tell you.’
‘Of course, you did. It slipped my mind. James is enjoying his football and Flora’s doing well with her reading.’
Alice smiled. ‘He likes drawing, too. Kenny encourages him.’
Seb felt an ache inside him, thinking that it should have been him encouraging his son. ‘Good old Kenny. He’s taken care of the business. Where would we be without him?’ Barely pausing for thought Seb added, ‘But then he didn’t have to go and fight, did he?’ He could not conceal the note of bitterness in his voice.
Alice was shocked. ‘It wasn’t his fault. You know what Bert did to him. He could never have marched or stood in the trenches.’
‘Or gone over the top.’ An odd little laugh escaped Seb, which trailed off into a sob.
Alice felt a terrible ache inside her and steeled herself to look at him. ‘Are you all right?’
‘What a daft question,’ he said, turning the damaged side of his face away from her.
‘I’m sorry. It’s just that you sounded…’
He interrupted her. ‘I can imagine how I sound but then if you’d been living in my head for months you might sound a bit peculiar too.’
‘I understand.’
‘No, you don’t. You can’t,’ he muttered, fumbling for a packet of cigarettes and taking one out. He put it between his lips and lit it with a match.
‘You didn’t used to smoke,’ she said.
Seb inhaled a soothing lungful of smoke. ‘I do now.’ They had been given free smokes in France. At first he had resisted smoking but then, what with the din of the big guns and the slaughter and mud, he had needed the nicotine to calm his nerves. He thought of the German advance and them having to retreat. So many dead. He remembered the hole he had dug himself into and then the Hun had come and a grenade had exploded near by. He had been told that was what must have happened later when the doctor had dug shrapnel out of his arm and face. He had come round not knowing what had happened. It had felt as if everything inside his head had shifted and there were holes where bits of his memory had fallen through.
‘You should have told me the truth and I’d have come to the hospital,’ blurted out Alice.
‘I hoped you’d come in spite of what I said,’ rasped Seb.
Alice frowned and pleated her skirt with unsteady fingers. ‘But why did you tell me to stay away if you wanted me to come?’
He faced her, staring at her from his undamaged eye. ‘I was bloody scared of your reaction, that’s why, and I was right to be, wasn’t I? You bloody fainted when you saw me.’
‘Don’t swear at me, please,’ she whispered, placing a hand on his knee and staring into his face. His eyes had been what first attracted her to him. They were the colour of treacle toffee and she remembered the devilment glowing in their depths when he had tried to help her escape from her father. Now the left one was completely ravaged, the socket empty and the eyelid dragged down. She burst into tears.
Hastily he stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Don’t cry! For God’s sake, don’t cry! Do you want me to feel worse? I’m ugly. Marred. My looks aren’t something you can cry over and then kiss better. Take it on the chin and accept this face as it is or else I don’t know what I’ll do.’
Her tears shuddered to a halt and she scrubbed at her damp cheeks with both hands. She gulped and took several deep breaths. ‘You’re not ugly. It was just so unexpected, and… and I felt your pain.’
‘Did you really?’ He laughed long and hard.
She felt a dart of fear. When he laughed like that he did not sound like himself. The memory of her father’s inappropriate wild laughter came into her mind. Unable to bear the thought that her husband’s brain might have been damaged and that he would go mad just like Mal, she stood and turned away. Never in a thousand years could she imagine herself showing the same courage as her mother had done when she had faced her husband and taken a beating. Alice fled.
Seb watched her go, cursing himself for not saying what he had planned to say on the way here. For a moment, when she had placed her hand on his knee, he had wanted to bury his head against her and weep. What a bloody fool he was; that’s what he should have done. He rose to his feet and hurried up the garden, but Alice was nowhere in sight.
Outside the door, he noticed a rocking perambulator. Georgie! Seb stopped in his tracks and remembered the last night he had spent with Alice before going reluctantly to war. This son was the result of that frantic lovemaking. He was now curious to see how this one had turned out. His approach was cautious because the image of his older children’s faces when they had seen his scars was still vivid in his mind.
He stood at the back of the perambulator and peeped over the hood. He caught sight of a mop of curling, dark hair and the tip of a nose and heard noises that sounded suspiciously
like ‘Da-da-da!’
Tears threatened to overcome him and he struggled to empty his mind of fear as he had done in the trenches. ‘Georgie,’ he said quietly.
The mop of dark hair tilted and a pair of brown eyes flecked with green gazed up at him. Seb waited for a scream but when one was not forthcoming he looked down on his younger son again. Georgie was still gazing upwards. ‘Bo-boo,’ he said, then chuckled.
Seb felt an odd sensation inside his chest. ‘Boo!’ he managed to say.
His son seized hold of a blanket that he had kicked to the bottom of the perambulator and covered his face with it and then lowered it. ‘Boo!’
Seb smiled. It seemed this son did not care what he looked like and appeared to be a friendly little chap, so he played the game and hid above the hood and then peeked out and said, ‘Boo!’
They were still playing when Tilly came to the kitchen door. ‘Will you bring him in, Seb? He probably needs his nappy changing,’ she said casually, having watched the pair from the kitchen window. She went back inside.
Seb hesitated but, realising Tilly had resumed whatever she was doing, walked to the front of the perambulator and, for the first time, looked straight at his younger son. To his surprise, Georgie reacted by holding his arms up to him. Seb gazed at the straps constraining his son and remembered when this vehicle had held his other two children. He wanted to weep. He loved his older children so much but they had found him repulsive. This son had not.
Somehow he managed to unfasten the straps and lift his son out with one arm, but it wasn’t easy, due to the lack of coordination between muscles and nerves and tendons in his right arm. The doc and physio had experimented with stretching nerves and transferring bits of this and that. He had difficulty in understanding the medical jargon.
Almost immediately Georgie wriggled to get down and, thankfully, Seb complied, terrified in case he dropped him. The toddler clutched his father’s trouser leg and reached up to him with his other hand. Seb grasped the small, soft mitt and, with Georgie toddling at his side, walked towards the door. His heart was beating fast as they entered the kitchen because he was expecting and hoping to see his wife sitting at the table, but she was not there.