A Song in the Night

by Julie Maria Peace

  Sergeant Bandy’s voice sounded through the trench. “Right, listen up. Our guns are gonna be poundin’ the lines the whole time. Just before we go over, our boys will send in a creeper and we follow in behind that. You go over when you hear the whistles – nice and steady, open formation. Remember, don’t rush it or you’ll end up on the end of our fire.”

  That was the thing about creeping barrages. You had to make sure you stayed in the right position at all times. The artillery would start up a barrage, the shells initially dropping quite close to the home lines. The infantry would then come up out of the trenches and follow in behind the artillery cover. The tactic required the artillery to advance the range of its shells by degrees, whilst all the time shielding the infantrymen heading towards the enemy line. It was a precise art. If a shell fell short, it could end up killing the very troops it was supposed to protect. Get it wrong, and for the infantry it was like being fired on by both sides. Knowing that the gunners were covering you as you scrambled out into no man’s land was supposed to be a kind of reassurance – some big, powerful brother figure looking out to make sure you got home safely. But there were times when it went horribly wrong.

  A few moments later the rum rations came down the line and each soldier eagerly took his due. There wasn’t enough to inebriate a man. Just sufficient to numb his common sense and allow him to walk into a hail of fire without thinking too much about it. Several minutes passed as a subdued apprehension fell over the trench.

  “Fix bayonets!” The order sounded down the line. The men obeyed as quickly as trembling fingers would allow. For some of them, this was the biggest action they’d seen since arriving at the front. But even for the most battle-hardened soldiers who’d been out here since early in the conflict, moments like this never really got any easier. Sam was well into his second year out here; right now, his heart was thudding in his chest.

  “All the best, you two. I’ve prayed for you both.” Boxer turned quickly to Sam and Jimmy and clapped a hand on each man’s shoulder.

  The whistles sounded. A furious scrambling as men climbed from their trenches to begin the advance. The air was acrid with shellfire and Sam was struggling to see who was ahead of him. Nice and steady – don’t rush it. Sergeant Bandy’s words echoed in his brain. He pressed on, the blood pulsing through his head as the sound of gunfire screamed in his ears. It was hard to know the direction the shells were coming from. Were they firing back?

  When he saw Captain Mackie stumble a few yards in front of him, his question was answered. A sniper’s bullet straight through the neck. Sam ran over to him but could see straightaway that the captain was beyond help. His eyes were still open and he fixed Sam with a bemused stare.

  “Anything I can do for you, sir?” Sam ventured, raising the officer’s head gently.

  The captain’s face contorted as he tried to swallow. He moved his lips with great effort. “Hoorah for England,” he whispered. “Go to it, Tommy …”

  That’s all I can recall, Em. Something must have hit me soon afterwards because the next thing I remember was waking up in the CCS with a terrific headache and a shrapnel gash on the top of my scalp. The MO says it’s only surface or I wouldn’t have made it. So far, I’ve not heard how our platoon went on in the operation. I’ve no idea if we lost anyone else. The only one I can speak for is Jimmy.

  It seems that about nineteen mines went up almost simultaneously – a great success they’re calling it. News has got back here that a lot of the Irish lads at Spanbroekmolen went up with the mine. Not sure how accurate that is, but it’s a darn shame if it’s true. I’ll be glad to get back to the line and find out what’s what, but the MO hasn’t given me clearance yet. Well, Emily – this has been rather a long account. The relative comfort of the CCS leaves me more time than I know what to do with. Oh my dearest, how I long for happier days.

  ____________

  It was Tuesday afternoon. Up in Yorkshire the sky lay heavy with cloud. Rosie had arrived the previous evening, unpacking and settling into her room as though she’d never been away. She’d seen little of Ciaran. He’d come downstairs briefly the night before to say hello, but had disappeared again soon afterwards. Cassie had tried to assuage Rosie’s concerns. “He’ll be alright, love. He just needs time. We’re all dealing with it in different ways.”

  Rosie hadn’t seen him at all that morning. She’d spent most of it with Cassie. Now she’d come up to her room and was sitting on her bed, poised to e-mail Jonathon. She felt slightly disappointed that he hadn’t replied to her last message. Perhaps the news of her move hadn’t gone down as well as she’d hoped. Or perhaps there’d been a glitch in the system and the thing had never arrived. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  Hi Jonathon –

  Don’t know if you got my last e-mail. Just to explain if not – I’m now officially living in Ridderch Standen until further notice. All Cassie’s idea! If you get in touch I’ll explain everything. Just one entry this time. It took a bit of typing up.

  Bye for now

  Rosie

  She closed down and clicked the laptop shut. The ball was firmly in his court now; it was up to him to make the next move. The last thing she wanted to appear was pushy.

  She decided to try looking in on Ciaran. After knocking on his door and receiving no response, she gently creaked it open. Ciaran was sitting by the window, his back to her. Closing the door behind her, she padded quietly over to him.

  “Hi, Kitch.” Her voice was as gentle as she could make it. He gave no reply, but continued to stare out of the window as though she wasn’t there. Moving closer to him, she put a hand on his shoulder. “Missed you.” She waited. Still no reply. Not even the slightest flicker of acknowledgement. Rosie felt utterly helpless as she looked at him. She knew there was nothing she could say to take away her brother’s pain, nothing she could do to bring Beth back and make him smile again. She’d had barely one decent conversation with him since Beth had gone, and now it seemed he wouldn’t even look at her. Indeed, suddenly it seemed that hardly anyone was thrilled to welcome her arrival in Yorkshire. Cassie was enthusiastic of course; it had been her suggestion after all. But Ed had been terribly quiet, spending most of his time ensconced in the huge shed he used as his painting studio. The benefit of the doubt she’d afforded to Jonathon only a little while earlier seemed suddenly a bad idea too. He was obviously dragging his feet about getting back to her. And now, even her own brother …

  She wished Beth could be there. She would have been happy to see her. She’d always been happy to see her. How she missed Beth. She might not show it like Ciaran; she might not even allow herself to feel it like he did. But she missed her so badly. For a moment she pictured Beth in her mind’s eye. Beth full of life – laughing and teasing, happy and carefree, the way she’d always been. The best friend anyone could have asked for. But the picture was soon replaced with an image of Beth laid out in the chapel of rest, cold and still. Even now it seemed unreal, and it made Rosie feel sick.

  At that moment, Ciaran reached out and took her hand. His grip was weak, and Rosie could feel that his whole body was trembling. She squeezed his fingers gently, a wash of guilt flooding over her. He wasn’t ignoring her. He was simply broken. She stayed there for several minutes. Neither of them said a word, but an unspoken understanding seemed to pass between them, and when Rosie left the room a while later, she knew that only time would heal this heartbreak. For all of them.

  Later that night as Rosie was on her way to bed, Cassie stopped her on the stairs. “It’s your interview tomorrow, isn’t it, love?”

  Rosie nodded. She was already feeling nervous about it.

  “I won’t be able to come into town with you, I’m afraid.” Cassie’s tone was apologetic. “One of the girls in church has been wanting to give me a massage and a bit of a makeover. You know, manicure, pedicure – that kind of thing.” She looked slightly embarrassed. “I don’t normally go in for that sort of stuff, but Kay seem
s to feel it’ll help me with the grieving process. So I said yes. She has a little salon a couple of villages from here. She booked me in for tomorrow … before I knew about your interview.”

  Rosie smiled at her. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. You just enjoy your day.”

  “Ed can drop you off in Northallerton – there’s no problem there.”

  Rosie shook her head. “No, it’s okay. I need to learn how to get about on my own, now I’m living up here.” Just saying the words felt strange and she grinned.

  Cassie smiled too. “I’m so glad you are, Rosie. I felt most unhappy thinking of you down there all by yourself.” She reached out to hug her. “I hope you come up with something tomorrow, love. I’ll be praying for you while I’m having my nails done.”

  They said goodnight and Rosie went up to her room. It was almost eleven, but though she was tired, she couldn’t shake off the urge to check her e-mails. She quickly logged on and started to get ready for bed. Five minutes later she logged off again, disappointed. Her inbox was empty. Still no reply from Jonathon. She tried to shrug it off as she climbed into bed. Why did it matter anyway? She was up here now, whether he liked it or not. But as she tried to settle down to sleep, she realised it mattered very much.

  ____________

  The woman at the employment agency introduced herself as Paulette Sharp. She was bright and enthusiastic, and confident she would have no trouble finding Rosie the perfect placement.

  “How long have you worked with children, Rosie?”

  “Five years. Since I left school.”

  Paulette flicked through Rosie’s paperwork. “NVQ Level 3 Early Years Care and Education … . You trained on the job?”

  Rosie nodded. “A lot of evening work too.”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Paulette continued to read. “Your former employer e-mailed me a good reference for you. You’ve come highly recommended.”

  Rosie made a mental note to take back all the mean things she’d ever said about her supervisor.

  Paulette’s face creased into a slight frown for a moment. Then she looked up. “Have you ever worked with older children, Rosie? I mean children older than nursery age?”

  It was Rosie’s turn to frown. “How old are you meaning?”

  “Well – six, seven, eight – that sort of age.”

  “Yes. Yes, I have. At the nursery we used to run holiday clubs outside of term time – for children up to eight. I’ve done a few stints in them.”

  Paulette looked thoughtful. “Do you enjoy working with that age group?”

  Rosie admitted that she’d considered the possibility of branching out into that area at some future point.

  Paulette nodded. “D’you know, Rosie – I think I might have something that would suit you very well. It’s only a temporary vacancy but if you fancied trying it, it would put you on for a few weeks until something else comes up. Non-Teaching Assistant at a primary school in the next village to yours.”

  “Aylesthwaite?” Rosie ventured.

  “No, Miston. It’s in the other direction – about the same distance. There are no formal qualifications needed for NTAs other than four GCSEs or equivalent … and you’ve easily got that. Plus you’ve a whole load of other stuff, and lots of experience with children. I think you’d be perfect. Unless you’re specifically wanting to work in Northallerton?”

  Rosie shook her head. “Not particularly. I quite like the village feel if I’m honest.”

  Paulette was pleased. “Look, Rosie – I’m going to make a phone call. Why don’t you go into the foyer and get yourself a drink while I try and speak to the headteacher. Have you any objections to my passing on your mobile number?”

  Rosie said that she hadn’t and went off to get a coffee. Several minutes later, Paulette reappeared with good news. The head was very keen to fix up a meeting. How would next day suit? A little surprised at the speed of this response, Rosie said that it would suit her fine.

  “Good. I’ve passed on your number and you can expect a call sometime later today. I think she’s eager to get the position filled. Sounds like they’re struggling. But she’ll fill you in with the details.”

  Later, as Rosie travelled back to Ridderch Standen, she reflected on the speed of events. Last week, she’d been a nursery nurse in London. Tomorrow, all being well, she was about to be interviewed for a school job in Yorkshire. Her life seemed to be taking off on its own. The only thing she could do was try and go with the flow.

  When she arrived back at Oak Lodge, Cassie was nowhere to be seen. Rosie found Ed in his garden studio, sketching out a rough draft for a painting. He looked up and smiled as she walked in. But Rosie could see the sadness in his eyes.

  “Cass won’t be back for a while,” he said gruffly as he flicked his pencil across the canvas. “Kay Jenison has taken her back to her place for a bit o’ dinner. She told me to tell you there are plenty of ready meals in the chest freezer and to help yerself. She’ll see you later.”

  “Have you eaten yet?” Rosie asked softly.

  Ed shook his head. “I’m not bothered at the moment, Rosie. Thanks all the same.”

  As she walked to the house, Rosie wondered when Ed had last tucked into a meal with any enthusiasm. His large frame seemed wasted these days, his clothes baggy and ill-fitting. In many ways, he bore the same haunted look as Ciaran.

  She had something to eat, watched a bit of television and finally went up to her room. A slight headache was beginning to play around her eyes. She lay on the bed to try and relax. However, it wasn’t long before her mobile phone began to ring.

  “Hello – Rosie Maconochie?”

  Rosie didn’t recognise the voice. “Yes, speaking.”

  “Hello, I’m Bev Carradine – headteacher at Paddock Hill Primary. Paulette Sharp contacted me earlier with your details.”

  Rosie sat up quickly and tried to collect herself. First impressions, girl, first impressions …

  “Did Paulette mention to you the possibility of our meeting together tomorrow at the school? Just an informal chat – to see if you’re the kind of person we’re looking for.”

  Rosie confirmed that the suggestion had been made.

  “The post is only temporary, Rosie, but it is urgent. I’m afraid one of our members of staff has been involved in an accident. I think we’re looking at three months minimum before she’s able to return to work. We’re keen to find someone to fill the position as soon as possible.” There was a calm authority in Bev Carradine’s voice which Rosie found reassuring.

  “What time would you like me to come into school?”

  There was a slight pause. “Well, I’ve been thinking, Rosie. I come through Ridderch Standen every day to get to work. How would you feel about my picking you up outside Saint Edwin’s in the morning – say, about ten to eight? It’s not out of my way. I just thought it might be easier for you, with your being a newcomer in the area.”

  At her end of the line, Rosie suppressed a smile. Sounds fine to me. A little unorthodox from where I’m standing, but maybe that’s how they do things up here.

  “Thanks, that’d be great. Do I need to wear a yellow carnation or anything?”

  Bev laughed. “No, just look out for my car. Silver BMW. I’ll be there about ten to.”

  They said goodbye and Rosie clicked off her phone. Well, there was one woman who certainly didn’t waste time. She lay back on the bed again. Her headache seemed to be getting worse. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was nearly eight thirty. Perhaps she was overdue an early night; after all, she needed to be in good shape for tomorrow. She scribbled a quick note to Cassie telling her about the day’s events and her forthcoming meeting with Bev Carradine. Leaving it on the kitchen table, she took a couple of painkillers and went to bed.

  She awoke early next morning and was relieved to find that her head had cleared. She showered and spent the next twenty minutes experimenting with outfits, eventually opting for a skirt suit in soft grey, pinstriped with baby pink.
A pale pink blouse complimented it perfectly. She felt quietly confident as she left her room and went downstairs for breakfast.

  The kitchen was bathed in soft, golden light. The morning sun had filtered its way through the closed cotton curtains, their pale colour serving to diffuse the rays and give the whole room a brightness which was tinged with optimistic promise. Because of the earliness of the hour, a lovely stillness seemed to brood over the house. The only sound was that of morning birdsong coming from the garden. Rosie suddenly thought of Beth and smiled to herself. The more time she spent at Oak Lodge, the more she understood about her friend. This place had been built into her very being from birth. Its seasons, its moods; its stillness and its happiness. No wonder Beth had been such a together kind of person. No wonder she had come back here to die. This house felt to Rosie like the next best thing to heaven, if such a place existed. As she chomped thoughtfully on her cereal, she couldn’t help feeling that it did. And that Beth was there. A sudden ache filled her. How she would love to tell Beth about all this. That she’d moved up to Yorkshire. That she was living in her house with her family. That she was going for an interview in a school just up the road. She could imagine Beth screaming with laughter at the irony of the whole thing. How Rosie wished they could have shared it together. A single tear trickled down her cheek, but she quickly brushed it away. She could almost hear Beth’s voice telling her off. You’ve an interview to go to, girl. Don’t you go messing up your mascara!

  She shuffled in her chair and took another mouthful of cereal to try and distract herself. But she couldn’t stop the thought that rose up from her heart.

  Jesus … if Beth’s with you, please tell her about it all. I’d really like her to know. And tell her I’m missing her.

  Ed came downstairs at half past seven. Rosie was all ready to leave the house. When he saw her, he smiled admiringly. “You look very smart, Rosie. Very smart. I’m sure they’ll be bowled over with you.”

  Rosie grinned, a slight shyness creeping over her. “Is Cassie awake yet?”