A Song in the Night

by Julie Maria Peace

  Beth nodded. “Yes, Aylesthwaite. It’s not far from here.”

  Rosie hesitated. “He’s asked me if I’d like to go and meet her.”

  “Whoa, listen at you!” Beth smirked. “It’s normally mum and dad who get the first inspection. He must be keen if he’s dragging you off to meet great granny …!”

  Rosie aimed a pretend swipe at her. “Will you cut it out? This is research. Just research, okay?”

  Beth stifled a smile. “Makes a change from etchings, I guess.”

  Rosie gave her a withering look. “It’s a good job you’re ill. I’d slug you if you weren’t.” Though the comment was only made in jest, she wondered for one awful moment if she’d gone too far.

  Beth’s face, however, was calm and relaxed. “I’m only winding you up, Ros. You go. I can’t wait to see what you come up with. When are you going?”

  Rosie’s voice softened. “Jonathon mentioned Wednesday.”

  “Great. Well, we’ll wait with bated breath then, eh? Night, Ros.” She patted Rosie’s arm and went out of the room. Thankfully, Rosie never saw the look of amusement on her face as she walked along the landing.

  ____________

  Wednesday morning came. It took less than fifteen minutes to get to the village of Aylesthwaite. As he drove, Jonathon explained that his great grandmother was ninety-one and had lived in the home for six months. “Mum asked her to come and live with us, but she wouldn’t. Said she didn’t want to be a burden to anybody.” He laughed softly to himself. “She’s a right character, Rosie. I think you’ll like her.”

  “Do your parents go to Saint Edwin’s?” Rosie wondered if she’d bumped into them without realising.

  “They did. They moved from Ridderch Standen last year, across to Northallerton for my dad’s job.” Jonathon pulled up at traffic lights and turned to her. “So you could say I was booted out at the same time. I wanted to stay over here so I had to find my own place quick. But I’ve forgiven them.”

  Rosie smiled. “Do you see much of them now?”

  “Oh yeah.” Jonathon set off again. “I went over for Christmas dinner and stayed till last night. They don’t get away from me that easily!”

  The retirement home was a clean-looking, stone fronted building with a large sign which read:

  ANGELGATE HOUSE – RETIREMENT HOME FOR THE ELDERLY

  Jonathon pulled into the car park and switched off the engine. “Well, Rosie – let’s go see how the old girl’s doing this morning. She’ll be wondering what’s up. We only visited her on Christmas day.”

  Maisie Wallace was a tiny, white-haired bundle of mischief. For all her diminutive size, her voice was the sound of roasted gravel. She greeted each of them with a pronounced kiss on the cheek, holding them still as she did so by gripping their shoulders with bony, deceptively strong fingers. Rosie was quite taken aback. She’d never been kissed on first meeting before, and never with such unexpected force. This granny didn’t know her own strength. Maisie gestured them to sit down.

  “So, you’re Jonny’s friend are you, m’dear?” She peered at Rosie through jam jar thick lenses. “I can’t rightly see what you look like. I ’av a bit of trouble with me eyes. That’s why they sent me in ’ere, y’know. They said I couldn’t look after meself, on account of me eyes bein’ a bit foggy. ’Onestly! I’m as safe as ’ouses. Don’t know what they’re talkin’ about, Jonny.”

  Jonathon looked across at Rosie and winked. “Mum said you could come and live with us – don’t you remember, Grandma?” His voice was slightly raised, and Rosie guessed that as well as having a bit of trouble with her eyes, Maisie probably had a bit of trouble with her ears as well.

  The old lady sighed theatrically. “Well, that’s just it, Jonny. Just as I was thinkin’ about takin’ her up on the offer, they went and moved, didn’t they? They can’t expect an old girl like me to up sticks and move all that way, now can they?”

  Jonathon shook his head, smiling. Rosie suspected this wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. He leaned forward in his chair. “Grandma, we’ve come to ask you about something.”

  Maisie frowned. “Not after me money are you, Jonny boy? I don’t ‘av a lot, y’know.”

  “No, nothing like that,” he assured her patiently. “We wondered if you could tell us anything about your uncle Philip. Remember? The one who died in the Great War.”

  “Ah … uncle Philip.” Maisie stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Now wait a minute while I get me thinkin’ cap on. Yes, he was me dad’s brother. A wee bit older than me dad he was. I never met him tho’. He was at war when I was born. Died when I was only two or three, I think.” She sighed again. “Terrible thing, y’know. All those young men gettin’ killed like that. My dad never went to war.” She looked over in Rosie’s direction. “He was a cripple, me dad was. Fell downstairs when he was just a littl’un. Broke both his legs – they never mended right. Handsome man he was too. My mother always said she was glad of ‘is being crippled cos it meant he couldn’t join up. Dad used to tell us that none of the recruitin’ officers would give ’im a second look.” She shook her head sadly. “That upset ’im, that did. He couldn’t understand it. A God-fearin’ man, me dad was. Just wantin’ to do ’is bit for king and country. Mum would tell us how he’d look at her many a time and say – ‘Polly, I can’t see why they won’t ’av me cos o’ me legs, when half the fellas they take come back wi’ no legs anyway.’ Aye, that’s what he used to say, bless ’im.”

  Rosie had to suppress a smile. The old lady’s face was entirely serious.

  Jonathon broke in. “Do you know which regiment Philip served in?”

  Maisie shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t, Jonny. All I know is, he died about 1917.

  At Ypres if I’m not mistaken.”

  Rosie’s ears pricked up. Ypres … wasn’t that where they were now in the diary?

  Jonathon shot her a glance. She sensed a slight nervousness in his eyes, as though he was afraid to ask his next question. This one would determine the truth.

  “Grandma, did your dad have any other brothers who served in the conflict?”

  As she looked across at Jonathon’s wistful expression, Rosie became conscious of her own heart beating harder. Suddenly, she desperately wanted Philip to be Boxer.

  Maisie screwed up her face for a few seconds, with the look of one dredging through the hinterlands of memory. Then she relaxed as though all had become clear. “There was another lad as I think about it. He was the oldest of the lot of ’em, I believe. Yes. Yes, I remember now. He survived the war – became a vicar, y’know.”

  Rosie and Jonathon exchanged glances.

  The old lady continued. “I do remember ’im as I come to think about it. He lived quite a distance away from us, but I did meet ’im several times. When the Second World War broke out, he went overseas as an army chaplain. Somethin’ he’d done in the First War, I seem to think.”

  Jonathon shot Rosie another look. “What was his name, Grandma? Can you remember his name?” He was talking fast now.

  Maisie straightened in her chair, a slight look of indignation on her face. “Course I remember ’is name. Do you take me for a silly old duffer, Jonny?” She gave a triumphant smile. “He was called uncle Nat. Well, that’s what I called ’im anyway. It was years before I could get me tongue round Nathanael.”

  Chapter 15

  “Wow, Rosie, would you believe that? What are the chances, eh?” Jonathon shook his head in disbelief as he started the ignition. “I mean, you couldn’t make it up, could you?”

  Rosie felt pleased. She could hardly wait to get back and tell Beth. It would be like a second Christmas present.

  “Well, I guess this needs some further looking into.” Jonathon was mumbling thoughtfully as they rolled out of the car park. “There must be ways of finding out more about him. I’ll give Lauren a ring. She’ll know where to look.”

  Rosie frowned slightly. Lauren? Was she supposed to know who he was talking
about?

  Jonathon caught her puzzled expression. “Sorry, Rosie. I was thinking aloud. Lauren’s my girlfriend – she’s at Durham doing a Ph.D. She’s a bit of a local historian on the side though. She’d probably know where to get some further info on Boxer.”

  “Oh right, I see.” Rosie felt an inexplicable tinge of disappointment. Somehow she hadn’t been expecting that. The revelation made her feel suddenly awkward. She tried to show interest. “Is she from round here?”

  Jonathon shook his head. “No. She’s from Cornwall. She’s there at the moment actually, spending Christmas with her family. I’m planning to go down and join them on Friday for New Year. A quick break before work starts up again.”

  “Where’s work then?” Rosie interjected, glad for the diversion.

  “I’m a teacher. Primary school.”

  Rosie was genuinely surprised. She’d never imagined Jonathon doing anything like that. Perhaps it was the memory of her first encounter with him that had thrown her off the scent. Something to do with the duffle coat and scruffy hair.

  Jonathon accelerated gently as they pulled onto a country lane. “Lauren’s wanting to become a lecturer. Bit of one-upmanship, I reckon.” He grinned.

  Realising that she hadn’t managed to change the subject, Rosie reluctantly rejoined the flow of his conversation. “Do you get to see her often?”

  Jonathon shook his head again. “It’s an e-mail and phone romance, I’m afraid. We’re both pretty busy. It’s hard to take time out to travel at the moment. But she only has another few months in Durham. We’re hoping things will change after that.”

  Rosie nodded. Well, it all sounded pretty serious anyway. No mention of wedding bells, but she knew how to read between the lines. She couldn’t help envying them. She couldn’t help envying anyone who had positive plans for the next year. She tried not to think about Beth, but she knew that Beth’s departure was the only sure thing looming up in her own near future. As for Gavin – it was hard to hold out much hope on that one.

  “Could I ask you a tremendous favour, Rosie?” Jonathon’s voice jolted her from her thoughts. “You know as you type up the diary entries for Beth, would it be possible to e-mail a copy through to me? I’d so love to read it.”

  Rosie shrugged. “Can’t see any problem with that. I’d better check it with Beth first. The diary’s hers after all. But I wouldn’t think she’d object.”

  “Great!” Jonathon’s face lit up. “When we get back to Oak Lodge, I’ll give you my e-mail address. Then if she agrees, you’re all set up.”

  Yeah, thought Rosie absently. Super.

  “Well? Is it him?” Beth was waiting in the hallway when Rosie arrived back. She looked very pale, but curiosity had animated her countenance with a certain glow.

  “Looks very much like it is.” Rosie couldn’t help grinning. “Right down to his Right Reverend brother. Jonathon’s pretty chuffed about it.”

  Beth’s face broke into a smile. “Ooh, that’s brilliant! I could see us getting on the telly with a story like this.” There was a sudden catch in her throat and she began to cough. Rosie could see her whole frame shake with the effort.

  “Come on, you – you’re getting overexcited.” She led Beth into the living room and sat her in a chair by the fire. After a couple of minutes and a few sips of water, the coughing died down. Beth lay back in her chair.

  “He’s nice Jonathon, isn’t he?” She spoke into the air.

  Rosie wasn’t sure if it was a trick question. She decided to play safe. “Yeah. He thinks his girlfriend might be able to help us find some stuff on Boxer. She’s into history apparently.”

  Beth looked disappointed. “He’s attached? That’s a shame.”

  “Shame for who?” Rosie’s eyes narrowed.

  “Well – I thought perhaps …” Beth’s voice tailed off and she smiled sheepishly.

  “If you’re meaning me, forget it. I’m attached too, remember.” Rosie tried to sound convincing. She felt about as attached as a loose awning in a force ten gale.

  Beth sighed. “Ah well. Should have realised he’d be spoken for. The good ’uns always get snapped up.”

  Despite her best efforts not to be, Rosie was curious. “Did you ever go out with him? When you were at school, I mean.”

  Beth shook her head. “No. But it certainly wasn’t for lack of wanting to. I remembered him from primary school. He grew up round here as a kid, but then his family moved away for a few years ’cause of his dad’s job. They came back when Jonathon was about fifteen. That’s when he joined our class. We girls didn’t know what had hit us.” She laughed as she remembered. “I confess I had him lined up for myself. But then, I suspect, so did every other female in my form. He did go out a couple of times with one girl – Loretta Hurst I think her name was. The rest of us just sat tight, hoping he’d do the rounds – y’know, so we’d all get a turn. Then suddenly he just changed.” Beth’s face became serious. “Started getting really into God. Started going to my church. To be honest, Ros, I found it all a bit much. Specially on Friday afternoons when he’d shout ‘See you Sunday, Beth!’ at the top of his voice.” She rolled her eyes at the memory.

  Rosie couldn’t help smiling. “So he started to lose his appeal then?”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid so. At that time I was pretty switched off spiritually. Y’know – the whole rebellious teenager thing. So it wasn’t long before I went off Jonathon too. I didn’t fancy going out with somebody who was starting to sound like Tim the vicar.” They both laughed. After a few moments, Beth became quiet. Her eyes seemed to glaze as she stared into the fire. “He said something to me once, Ros. It seemed a strange thing to say at the time.”

  Rosie waited for her to continue.

  “I remember going to Saint Edwin’s the Sunday before I left for music college. I went more for Mum’s sake than anything. When the service was finished, people started coming up to me, wishing me all the best, offering me bits of advice – that kinda thing. Then, just as I was about to leave, up came Jonathon. He wished me well and we made a bit of small talk. Then he came out with the funniest thing. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, ‘Whatever happens, don’t forget who you are, Beth.’ Just like that. Then he turned and went. I’ve never forgotten it.”

  Rosie tried to picture the scene. A disconcerted teenage Beth struggling to hold onto her cool as Jonathon’s blue eyes bored into her soul. It wasn’t hard to imagine. Those eyes could leave a girl in pieces.

  “I guess I was a bit narked at first. I thought it was his roundabout way of telling me not to get above my station – y’know, if I ever made it big or anything. Remember your humble beginnings and all that. It niggled me if I’m honest, Ros.” She stared into the fire again and the room became silent.

  As they sat in the quietness, Rosie became aware of the steady ticking of the clock. Every moment registered by a tiny note … then gone. Forever gone. Life ticking away, so quietly yet so surely. And for Beth, so quickly. Rosie wondered how she could stand the sound of it.

  Beth shuffled in her chair. “It’s funny, Ros. After I first got diagnosed, I found myself thinking about his words more and more. ‘Whatever happens, don’t forget who you are, Beth.’ Suddenly I realised I’d done exactly that.”

  “How d’you mean?”

  “You remember that day in the church at Applemarket? When you asked me if I still believed in God?”

  Rosie nodded.

  “I guess that was the first time I’d faced the question in years.”

  Catching sight of Beth’s troubled expression, Rosie shifted awkwardly in her seat. She wasn’t sure where this was leading, but she had a feeling confessions were on the way. Conversations like this usually made her uneasy.

  Beth twisted a strand of hair distractedly round a finger. “I never told you, Ros, but I had a dream a few nights after that.”

  Rosie straightened. “Dreams now, eh? This gets better.” She tried to sound light-hearted about it, but a sudden nervou
sness had gripped her.

  “I dreamt I was on a beach,” Beth began slowly, ignoring her sarcasm. “It was a lovely beach. Not one I could identify in real life, but in the dream it was somehow familiar. You know what dreams are like.”

  Rosie nodded but said nothing.

  “The place was perfect. Blue sky, not a cloud in sight. Sea like a millpond. There were people all around, swimming or playing in the sand. But I wasn’t taking too much notice of them to be honest. I was just lying there soaking up the sun. It was all too gorgeous to do anything but enjoy.” She went quiet for a moment and Rosie noticed a shadow pass across her face. “Get this, Ros. There I was, perfectly happy in my own little world. Sun on my skin, sea lapping in the background …”

  “Buckets of sangria –” Rosie quipped, keen to lighten up the conversation.

  But for once, Beth seemed in no mood for levity. “Skip the sangria on this occasion,” she retorted flatly. She twirled a tendril of hair round her finger again. “Suddenly, Ros, without any warning, I heard someone shout out. The voice was loud, agitated – a man’s I think. It hardly matters. Before I even managed to open my eyes, other voices started up. Within seconds people were shouting, screaming. Within seconds – literally. It all happened so fast, it took me a moment or two to get my brain in gear.” Her face furrowed as she played the memory back. “Then sheer panic set in. At that point I jerked upright to see what the heck was going on. That’s when I saw it.”

  “Saw what?”

  Beth shuddered slightly. “Stuff coming in from the sea.”

  “Stuff?” Rosie frowned. “What stuff?”

  Beth was shaking her head slightly. “Don’t know what it was exactly. It was like fog, I guess. But it seemed to be rolling in from the horizon like a huge wall. You just knew that when it hit that beach, everything was going to disappear into it. You could feel it even before it got there. So cold, so terribly cold.”