‘The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of the shadow of death
a light has dawned …’
Tim’s voice sounded out over the hushed church as he began his sermon. Rosie felt frustrated at herself. Was she ever going to get over this? Up till recently, she’d almost imagined it was all behind her. Something that belonged to another time, another place; something better left well alone. But over the last few weeks it seemed to have been raising its head more and more often, jumping out at her from the shadows when she least expected it. It was pain. Pain that came from deeper than her very guts. Pain that, despite all her best efforts to pretend otherwise, seemed just as alive as it had ever been. Suddenly, Rosie thought bitterly, it was pain behaving badly.
She tried to focus on Tim’s words from the front, but a dark sense of foreboding had seeped into her mind. She spent the rest of the service feeling woolly-headed and distant. Even Ciaran sitting next to her now, the one person to whom she’d clung, the one person whose promises had held her little girl world together, had never known about that. Her hands tightened into fists as she tried to bury the memories. She really had to get herself sorted on this one. But just how was another matter.
She found herself standing for the final hymn, and then the service was finished. People began to turn round, shaking hands and exchanging festive greetings. Rosie smiled weakly at Ciaran. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” she commented gloomily. Ciaran smiled weakly in return.
“Hey, you two –” Beth broke in, “shall we go down and look at the nativity?” Her face was expectant as she gestured towards something at the front of the church. Ciaran stood up to follow her and the three of them began to wend their way down an aisle. The large nativity scene was situated in an alcove to the left of the altar and was lit up by a soft spotlight and two tall candles, one on either side of the display. As they neared it, Beth turned to Rosie. “Atmospheric, isn’t it? I used to love it when I was a little girl.”
They hadn’t quite made it to the front when Beth was spotted by an elderly couple leaving their seats. Recognising her from times past, they stopped to greet her. Rosie, who had been walking a couple of steps in front, hadn’t realised that Beth and Ciaran were no longer behind her. It was with a flash of consternation, therefore, that she suddenly found herself at the nativity scene – alone. Turning round, she caught sight of the little group in conversation. She decided against going back to join them. Nothing in her felt like talking tonight, especially to total strangers. She turned back to the nativity display and tried to focus her mind on the scene in front of her. It made her think of religious Christmas cards, the sort her mother used to insist on sending. And school nativity plays. Funny how she’d almost forgotten about those. The annual ‘let’s-see-how-many-kids-we-can-squash-onto-a-stage’ fest. This sudden childhood recollection made her smile, and for a moment or two her mind was brightened by the memory of it. The good old school nativity play; it had surely been something of a highlight in the academic year. Even now she could still recall the buzz of anticipation that had simmered amongst the would-be thespians as the deputy head had called auditions. Each little girl nursing her own secret longing to be Mary, each little heart hopeful that maybe this year … (could Mrs Pemberley possibly have realised just how many fragile dreams were hanging on her final decision?) Oh, the dubious solace of being cast as a shepherd. An angel had always been the preferred alternative, Rosie remembered. She could only speak for the girls, of course. She had no idea if being cast as Joseph had ever meant anything like as much to the boys. Suddenly it all seemed an awful long time ago. She hadn’t seen a nativity play in years and years. But then, she thought ruefully, if my experience in the childcare business is anything to go by, most places these days are probably far too busy minding their PC p’s and q’s to stage anything like that. Things, it seemed, had moved on. Still, it was nice to have unearthed one aspect of Christmas Past that had managed to bring a smile to her face.
She became aware of a CD playing in the background. The sound drifted out from speakers fixed high on various pillars around the building, giving the impression that the whole roof space was filled with the strains of angelic song. Rosie tried to identify the familiar carol that was playing. Ah yes. Oh Little Town of Bethlehem. That had always been a favourite at Saint Joseph’s …
She stared at the pot figures in front of her. Had any of this stuff ever really happened – the whole ‘born in a stable’ thing? And even if it had, what difference did it make? A little baby, a few animals. What was there to get so excited about?
How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is given,
And God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear His coming
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive Him still,
The dear Christ enters in …
As the words floated mellifluously through the airwaves, Rosie’s eyes fixed on the infant laid on his bed of straw. It was a nice story, whatever sense it might or might not make. Better than the storylines in the Eastenders’ Christmas special anyway. The next carol began to play. As she stood there, Rosie felt her mind beginning to clear slightly. Somehow, standing in front of this ancient scene, listening to music which seemed to echo from another sphere, she felt safe. Wrapped up from the world outside, hidden from its demands and its scrutiny. She could understand why Beth had wanted to come.
“Rosie!”
A familiar voice made her spin round. She was surprised to see that it was Jonathon. But apart from the deep blue eyes and the laughing smile, nothing about his appearance tonight was familiar at all. He was dressed in a dark suit and cobalt-coloured tie. His fair hair, which had looked so tousled and unkempt in the churchyard, was now combed and parted to the side and looked lighter than Rosie remembered. To her horror, she felt her cheeks colouring.
“Hey, it’s great to see you,” Jonathon enthused. “We were just about to leave when I spotted you. I had to come over and say hello.”
Rosie suddenly felt desperately tongue-tied. He’d caught her totally unprepared. She smiled and tried to think of something sensible to say. “It’s been lovely tonight,” was about all she could manage.
Jonathon nodded warmly. “Yes it has, hasn’t it?” Hesitating for a moment, he jingled his car keys thoughtfully. “Will you be here in the morning, Rosie?”
A reply was on her lips before she had time to think about it. “I’m hoping to be …”
She felt herself reddening even more. What? Where did that come from? Since when did I go to church on Christmas Day?
Jonathon gave a broad smile. “Oh that’s great! I’ll be able to have a chat with you tomorrow then. We normally have a cup of tea after the Christmas morning service. It’s just that I’m in a bit of a hurry now. I’m taking Albert home – you know, Albert Rowney, the old guy I was telling you about the other day. It’s way past his bedtime, bless him.”
Rosie attempted to think of a clever reply, but no words came. Somehow Jonathon fazed her. His manner was so open, his eyes so kind, that suddenly it was difficult to come up with the usual witticisms and sparring banter. He even made her blush.
“Well, see you in the morning then, Rosie. Hope you get lots of presents!” Jonathon flicked his car keys up into the palm of his hand and, with another smile, set off back down the aisle.
Rosie hurriedly turned back to the nativity scene. She felt flustered, yet strangely happy at the same time. Well, at least tomorrow she’d be able to tell him about Boxer. A troubling thought came to her. What if none of the family were going to church in the morning? She could hardly turn up on her own, could she?
She needn’t have worried. That night back at Oak Lodge, Cassie stopped her in the hallway. “Don’t feel you have to, Rosie, but I just wondered if you fancied going along to Saint Edwin’s in the morning. Ed and I are goi
ng. I think Ciaran and Beth are gonna give it a miss – she’s a bit tired. But you’re very welcome to come with us if you want. Entirely up to you, love.”
Rosie didn’t want to sound too eager. “Erm, okay then. I will. Thanks.”
Cassie seemed delighted. “It doesn’t go on too late. We’ll have plenty of time for Christmas dinner. We’re going to have a lovely day, Rosie.” She suddenly leaned forward and kissed Rosie on the cheek. “We’re so glad to have you with us, love. Makes it all the more special.”
Rosie smiled awkwardly. Tonight had been full of surprises.
Shortly afterwards, she was in her room about to get ready for bed when there was a knock on her door. It was Beth. She came in and sat by the window. “Did you enjoy it tonight then, Ros?” She looked pale and washed out, and Rosie wondered that she hadn’t gone straight to bed.
“Yeah. It reminded me of days gone by.” Rosie forced a grin. In more ways than you could imagine, she thought sadly. But I won’t bore you with the gruesome details.
Beth nodded. “I see you’ve met Jonathon Kirkbride.” There was a twinkle in her eyes. “I was crazy about him at one bit, y’know. Back in my schooldays, I mean. Most of the girls in our class were too. Until –” She broke off and began to laugh softly to herself.
Rosie stiffened slightly. “I met him the other day in the churchyard. I had a bit of a fall and he came to check that I was okay, that’s all.” Most of the girls in your class were too, until what exactly? She cleared her throat and tried to smile nonchalantly. “So what’s the joke, Mrs M? What’s so funny about him?”
Beth frowned. “Oh … it’s not Jonathon that’s funny. I’m just thinking it’s funny the way things turn out sometimes. We all fancied him like mad and then he suddenly went and turned all religious. Just seems ironic really.” For a moment her expression was thoughtful. Then she shook herself. “Anyway, I left for music college not too long after that.” She grinned disarmingly. “How was I to know my heart would be stolen by a gorgeous, wild Irishman?”
Rosie still didn’t see what was so amusing, but she didn’t press further. She rolled her eyes in mock disgust. “Don’t talk about my brother like that. It’s disturbing.”
Momentarily, she toyed with the idea of mentioning to Beth the business about Boxer, but decided against it. All of a sudden, she felt reluctant to let Beth know that she was planning to see Jonathon in the morning. Maybe it was best to keep her cards close to her chest for the time being. Check the thing out with Jonathon first. See if there was any possibility of a link. After all, she reasoned to herself, there seemed little point in getting Beth’s hopes up if the whole thing was going to come to a disappointing dead end.
When Beth had gone off to bed, Rosie did another check on the diary. She leafed through the earlier entries until she came to the one that cited Boxer’s name. Could it really be the same guy? Realistically, what would be the chances of that? Still, as she thought about sharing the news with Jonathon, a shudder of excitement went through her. Suddenly, she could hardly wait for morning.
____________
Tim Fitzpatrick was true to his word. The Christmas morning service ended at five past eleven. Rosie was in benevolent mood as she walked across to the church hall with Ed and Cassie. She felt she could forgive Tim the extra five minutes.
The hall was filling up quickly when they arrived. Victor Hely-Hutchinson’s ‘Carol Symphony’ was playing in the background as they queued up at the serving hatch for drinks. Rosie felt as though she’d stepped back in time.
Cassie turned to her. “Did you enjoy it, love?”
Rosie nodded. “Yes, I did.” Looking at Cassie’s gentle face, she felt she wanted to say something positive. “I don’t normally go to church. It takes a bit of getting used to. But this morning was nice.”
Cassie smiled. “Good, I’m glad. By the way, Rosie, you’re looking very pretty today. That jumper’s gorgeous – it really makes your dark hair stand out.”
Rosie felt herself flushing. She instinctively looked down at the cream-coloured top and smoothed it straight. It was one that Mel had helped her choose; a flattering long-line style with a cowl neck, in the softest angora. Bet it makes my bright pink face stand out too, she thought, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the back door swing open. Jonathon stepped inside and glanced around the hall. Rosie willed her face to cool down, but to no avail. Within seconds he had joined them.
“Hi everybody! Happy Christmas!” He kissed Cassie’s cheek and shook Ed warmly by the hand. Extending a hand to Rosie, Jonathon grinned at Ed and Cassie. “I met this young lady the other day. I’m afraid she came a cropper in the churchyard. I reckon that new gardener needs sacking; she could have broken her neck.” He turned his eyes to Rosie and she saw the twinkle in them. “Thankfully she’s agreed not to sue.”
Rosie was relieved. That had explained things anyway. Once they’d all been served, the group moved to a corner of the hall. Rosie was just wondering how to broach the subject of the diary when a couple came over to talk to Ed and Cassie, enquiring about Beth. Rosie swallowed hard and seized her chance.
“I’ve brought something to show you.”
Jonathon seemed curious. “You have?” He looked around. Nearby there were two empty chairs by a small table. They went over and sat down.
Rosie opened her handbag and pulled out the diary. “You remember me telling you about this the other day?”
Jonathon nodded and stared at the old notebook, a look of fascination spreading across his features.
“Well,” Rosie continued, “the other night I remembered something. I was just dropping off to sleep when it suddenly came to me. Here … it’s in one of the entries.” She opened the diary and carefully passed it to him.
Jonathon took the book from her hands with a gentleness that Rosie found oddly touching. For a few moments he gazed down at it, letting it rest on his palms as though it was some precious treasure. Then Rosie heard his voice softly muttering the words.
Fletre (billets) August 14th 1916
Yesterday I got chance for a good conversation with the other chap – my fellow rescuer. He’s Pte Philip Bocking, known to most, it seems, as Boxer …
Jonathon glanced up at her, his eyes wide. “Philip Bocking?” He read on. “A Yorkshireman … a bit of a religious type too … . Oh wow, Rosie, I can hardly believe it. This is amazing.” He shook his head incredulously.
Rosie felt quietly pleased. “Do you think it could be him?”
Jonathon looked up from the page. “Well, it’s not a very common name, is it – Bocking? Wonder if he’s got an army record somewhere. Are there no more clues to his identity?”
Rosie thought for a moment. “Hang on. You know this uncle – er great uncle, or whatever he was. Did he have any brothers? This guy did. He was a chaplain – name of Nathanael.” She turned the pages gently until she found the entry about Boxer’s brother.
Jonathon read it and frowned. “Well, obviously there was my great, great granddad, but I don’t think he fought. I’ve a feeling there was another brother, but I can’t be sure.” His face suddenly broke into a smile. “I know someone who could tell us though. My great grandmother, Maisie.” He looked intently at Rosie, his blue eyes filling with excitement. “Rosie – how do you fancy coming to meet her?”
____________
Rosie spent the rest of Christmas day at Oak Lodge. Beth’s two brothers and their families came over for dinner and stayed until late in the evening. The day was filled with games and songs, memories and tales. At one point, Cassie even played a few ballads on the piano. There were calls for Ciaran to accompany her on the violin, which he eventually did. Rosie felt a rush of pride as she watched him. How brave he seemed to her. How brave and how sad.
“You’d make a smashing fiddle player!” Josh enthused as the music came to an end. “I know an Irish band that’s after someone like you. I reckon they’d snap you up.”
C
iaran shook his head with a smile and began to put his instrument back into its case. Suddenly, Josh’s daughter, Meg, made a new request. “Auntie Beth, won’t you have a go?”
Rosie saw Ciaran and Beth exchange glances. Beth hesitated for a moment, then gestured to Ciaran to pass her the violin. Cassie gently began to play again, and after a few bars Beth joined her. A hush fell over the room. One by one, the family members closed their eyes and listened. Rosie stared into the fire. Her mind went back to the Laureate Hall and the concert. How different things had been just a couple of months ago. The whole family had been riding high that night. She looked furtively round the room. Poor things. How could they have known back then? This is the last Christmas they’ll ever do this.
When Beth had finished, everyone applauded and made a fuss of her. Rosie caught her eye and Beth winked with a knowing smile. Rosie noticed that she was trembling, as though the effort of playing had exhausted her. But she humoured her family, smiling and pretending to bow, just as she had two months earlier. Rosie couldn’t help but be impressed at her fortitude.
That night, realising it was going to be impossible to keep secret her forthcoming trip to see Maisie, Rosie decided to tell Beth about her discovery on the war memorial.
Beth was intrigued. “I wonder if it’s him. Wouldn’t that be fantastic, Ros?”
Rosie shuffled in her chair. “Well, apparently Jonathon has a great grandmother still living. He seems pretty sure she’ll know the name of Philip’s brother if he had one. She lives in a retirement home in a village called – Aylesthwaite, I think it was.”
A Song in the Night Page 23