by Terri Nixon
I helped Amy step over the broken glass, and took her to the kitchen door, trying to keep my voice calm. ‘Lizzy, I’m just putting the horses away. Can you watch Amy?’
‘Of course,’ she said, shutting the oven. ‘Come on, Amy, love. Sit and finish the drawing you were doing before, and tell me about the new horse.’
‘Big,’ Amy said, letting go of my hand and climbing onto the chair. ‘Mulls. Not seep.’
‘No, not sheep,’ Lizzy said, and waved me away.
I quickly cleaned up the broken glass, wrapping it in one of the smaller blankets, and then put the dirty tools back in their box ready for cleaning. Then I turned Pirate and Pippin out together into the field; I’d clean them down and feed them when I’d found Belinda, and she could blasted well help me!
I was about to go into the house when I remembered the tools, and sighed, turning back to the cart. The box was heavy; they were mostly small, handheld tools, but made of metal, and there were several of them. I hooked open the door with my foot, glad Frances had not yet bought a padlock for it, and lugged the box inside. Nathan was in there, working, and Belinda was there too. They were a perfectly respectable distance from one another, which made me think of Jessie’s assertion that Bel was keener than Nathan, but they both looked guilty when they saw me.
‘Kitty! I was just about to put Pippin away,’ Bel said, jumping up from her comfortable seat on an upturned tea chest.
‘He’s in the field,’ I told her coldly, dropping the box where I stood. ‘He needs feeding.’
‘Of course,’ she said, then her face went slack with horror. ‘Oh! Amy!’
‘Oh, Amy,’ I agreed. ‘Don’t worry; she’s safe, no thanks to you.’
‘Kitty—’
‘I don’t care,’ I said, and turned to go. ‘You’re clearly more interested in spending time with your beau than anything else, so I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say.’
She followed me out into the sunlight again, but her guilt had faded. ‘Is that what you’re more worried about?’
‘What?’
‘Me being with Nathan. It seems to me that’s what’s got you so upset, not that I left Amy alone in the cart for a few minutes.’
I rounded on her furiously. ‘A few minutes! When I found her she had smashed that old wine bottle to bits with a dibble! It’s a wonder she didn’t cut herself, or worse!’
‘And still the only thing you can think of to say is that I’m spending time with my beau!’
‘Bel, you told me you weren’t interested. What’s upset me, apart from Amy, is that you lied about it. To me! What did you think I’d say?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, subsiding slightly. ‘If it’s any consolation, he really couldn’t care less about me. I’m not nearly worldly enough. Look, I’m sorry about Amy too, I’ll clear up everything that—’
‘I’ve done it.’
‘Well. Thank you.’ She saw I was still angry, and became defensive again. ‘Look, it’s all right for you, Maitland. You went off to the big posh house, got invited to parties, had all your fun. What was I left with?’
‘Fun?’ I was vaguely aware of someone coming out of the kitchen and going to the compost pile, but my blood was boiling now and I didn’t care. ‘If your idea of fun is being made to feel like a poor acquaintance—tolerated, manipulated, and then thrown out, then you’re welcome to it!’
‘Thrown out?’
‘When Lawrence died, and I was no further use, yes. I was told to leave. And…’ I stopped, my voice hitching as I remembered the awful scene ‘…Lady Creswell knew what had happened in Belgium. She knew it all along.’
‘Oh, darling,’ Belinda took me into a hug, and I let her, feeling all my anger ebb away. She was infuriating, but she had such a good heart it was difficult to stay angry with her for long. ‘Don’t let her upset you,’ she murmured. ‘Frances loves you more than anyone, and she’s overjoyed to have you back.’
We both heard the kitchen door slam; it must have been Jessie putting the vegetable peelings out. I drew back and my eyes met Belinda’s, and she lifted hers to the heavens. We both laughed, and the last bit of tension faded.
‘Some things will never improve,’ I said, ‘and she’s one of them. But—’ I fixed her with a stern look ‘—you, Belinda Frier, are not. Go and sort the horses out, and I won’t tell Frances you were gallivanting with our guest in the barn.’
‘If only he’d let me!’
‘Oh, and Bel?’ She turned back on her way to the field, and I gave her another grin, this time a sly one. ‘Speaking of gallivanting, Seth Pearce is coming over later. Better make yourself beautiful.’
I ignored her comical look of dismay and went indoors. I had a letter to write.
Chapter Fifteen
Evie and Will were due home, at last. I’d had a long day in the fields, trying to finish everything so I’d have tomorrow morning free; we were sure to stay up late talking tonight, and Frances might get out her best whisky again. I still didn’t enjoy the taste, but I enjoyed the feeling of sitting with everyone and sipping it, nevertheless—it made me feel part of everything. Will would be pleased with me too; I’d sent my letter off to Archie two days ago, and he’d have it within the week—every time I thought about it I felt a low, sweet tingle, part excitement and part apprehension, and I wondered how I’d keep my mind occupied with other things until I received his reply. It would feel like a year.
Singing softly under my breath, I cleaned the mud and sweat off Pirate, sluicing him down with fresh water and wishing someone could do the same for me. But I felt good. Better than good. Frances and I had shifted the last of the bales to the haystacks, hitching Pirate up to the bigger cart, which he pulled with ease, and Nathan and Jessie had covered the haystacks against the threatening thunderstorm. It was a wonderful sight to see it all dry and safe. Frances had gone inside to help Lizzy ready our evening meal, and I was taking what pleasure I could in the trickling of cool water running up my arms as I finished grooming Pirate, before bedding him down for the night. Tomorrow I’d take him for one last ride, then deliver him back to Mr Pearce for a short rest before his winter work at the sawmill.
I stopped outside the kitchen door to kick my boots off, and blew my hair off my forehead, looking forward to splashing some cold water on my sweating face. Voices drifted out from the kitchen, and I felt the thrill of anticipation; it would be so good to see Evie and Will again. Before I went in for the night I stopped long enough to enjoy my new habit—looking out across the moor and filling my mind with the scenery before moving inside, into warmth and comfort and company.
The sun was just beginning to dip, and was turning more orange than golden; flies drifted lazily around my head, and I heard the distant shout of a neighbouring farmer as he took his cows in for their evening milking. I could feel my shirt sticking to my back, and an ominous heaviness in the air, but a sense of peace, helped by the pleasant ache of muscles with a good day’s work behind them, put a smile on my face that I was still wearing as I went into the kitchen.
Five people were sitting at the table. They all looked up as I came in, but one of them stood, scraping his chair back so fast it fell over. I looked rather stupidly at it, and then my hand was seized.
‘Do excuse us,’ Archie said, and whirled me about, pulling me behind him as he marched out through the door. I barely had time to wonder at his even being there, when he’d stopped, turned me to face him, and started to speak. I didn’t even hear what he was saying, not properly. I was transfixed by the sight of a fly that had landed in his open shirt collar and was marching, unheeded, along his collarbone. I felt dizzy and swimmy-headed as Archie spoke the words he had carried with him from France, the vibration of his low, fierce voice almost a visible thing.
‘Yes,’ I said. The voice stopped. I looked up at his face for the first time, seeing his dark eyebrows lowered, his striking grey eyes unusually still, their shifting colours darkened to one, intense shade, his jaw te
nse.
‘Yes,’ I said again, solemnly, but I could feel my grin dislodging a piece of dried grass that had stuck to my eyebrow. He gently plucked it loose, and gave it an inordinate amount of attention before flicking it away and looking back at me.
‘You’re sure?’ He no longer sounded fierce; his voice had dropped to almost a whisper.
‘I was always sure. For me.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘We’ll talk later,’ I said. For now I just wanted to lose myself in the fact of his presence. ‘I’ve always loved you, Archie.’
‘But you said—’
‘Later,’ I repeated, and moved closer, touching my lips to his throat and feeling the sigh escape him. His arms came around me, to lock at the small of my back and pull me even closer, and my hands rose to caress the back of his neck. I tipped my head back to smile at him, and a second later his lips had claimed mine. For a brief moment we were back in the road at Dixmude, but this time there were no hats lying in the mud, and no people lying about their feelings; this time there was honesty and relief in every touch, and when we broke apart, his familiar, lopsided smile was enough to tell me I’d finally done the right thing. For both of us. He dipped his head for one final, brief kiss, and something playful I’d never known I possessed moved me to catch his lower lip between my teeth, and tug gently.
A splash of rain hit the back of his neck, wetting my fingers, and the skin between them became suddenly slick. Another hit his shoulder, and then one splashed onto my forehead.
Archie drew back and squinted at the sky. ‘I think it might be Scotland…uh, I mean raining.’
‘I think you might be right.’ I tilted my head back to follow his gaze. ‘That would explain the water, don’t you think?’
A low rumble trembled somewhere in the distance, and the rain came down faster. It was so deliciously cool on my work-heated skin, and Archie looked so young and carefree, with water dripping off his nose, I would have been happy to stay there all night. But the window opened, and Frances’s voice cut through the pattering of the rain.
‘That’s all very romantic, and we’re all delighted, but for goodness’ sake come indoors. We’ll have to dry those clothes somehow!’
Archie gave a low chuckle. ‘That’s us told,’ he murmured directly into my ear. His arm went around my shoulder as we turned to go back into the farmhouse, and he grew serious as he pulled me to a stop. ‘Before we go in… You might never understand what you’ve given me, but I hope you’ll let me give it back as well as I can.’
I wrapped my own arm around his waist, feeling his warmth through the rough shirt, and loving the strength in his powerful frame all the more for the gentleness it disguised. ‘You already have. I’ve been an idiot.’
‘Well luckily for you I’m partial to idiots.’ He ducked his head to pass through the door, and when the four remaining faces turned to us, they were all smiling. Evie crossed the kitchen and took me into a warm hug.
‘It’s so good to see you. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am about those things my mother—’
‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘I understand, she was speaking from grief. And I’m happy.’
‘Of course.’ She drew back and smiled at us both. ‘It’s about time. The two of you have wanted your heads banging together.’
‘Hey, it’s not down to me,’ Archie protested, tugging at my hair gently. ‘I tried. More than once, if you’ll remember.’
‘Leave them alone,’ Frances scolded, but her warm expression belied her tone. ‘Kitty, go and wash. Archie, sit and finish your tea.’ She gave a happy kind of sigh, one I hadn’t really heard before. ‘Lizzy is going to be thrilled to bits when she comes up tomorrow.’
‘I can’t wait to see her,’ Evie said. ‘She’ll be every bit as pleased as we are. I knew, as soon as we met Archie at Crewe, that there was something he wasn’t telling us about why he wanted to come here.’ She smiled at me. ‘I should have realised it would have something to do with you, Skittles.’
‘Ooh, won’t Lizzy be sort of your aunt now, Kitty?’ Belinda added.
I hadn’t thought that far. ‘I suppose so, now you mention it. I’m going,’ I assured Frances, who looked about to banish me once again to tidy myself.
Upstairs, after a good wash and having changed into clean, dry trousers and blouse, I looked at myself in the mirror. For just a moment I found my old, traitorous doubts floating to the surface; why on earth would someone as handsome, kind and clever as Archie Buchanan want me? I was still more rounded than I wanted to be, despite the physically demanding farmwork; my face wasn’t anything like the girls on the Land Army posters; my hair did whatever it wanted to do, which was usually the opposite of what I wanted it to… In that I was more like Lizzy, I supposed. Perhaps the Carlisle men were naturally drawn to messy-haired women.
I heard laughter drifting up from downstairs, almost as if they had caught my thoughts and were sharing my amusement, and then Archie’s voice rose above the others, protesting once again as he was good-naturedly scolded. When I turned back to the mirror to check my blouse was buttoned correctly, I saw my own smile and it widened. I deserved Archie, because he loved me. And he deserved me because I loved him. What else was there?
Jessie didn’t come down for dinner, and neither did we see Nathan, who was out painting in the barn. I was glad; with just the six of us it felt like family, and with the constant awareness of Archie at my side I felt relaxed, and happier than I could remember. I missed Amy though. She had gone to bed already. At least tomorrow, now the hay was in, I would have time to spend with her—perhaps the three of us could go for a long walk if the rain had stopped.
The low rumbling of thunder had crept closer throughout the evening, and now, with the sky darkened, the increasingly frequent flashes were more vivid at the windows. Before we retired to the sitting room, however, Frances set stubs of half-melted candles in saucers and took her whisky bottle out, as I’d hoped.
‘We’ve got a toast or two to make, before we take our comfort,’ she said, her voice solemn. ‘It’s only right we should do it now, while we’re all together.’ She poured a tot into each glass and handed them around, then took a deep breath. ‘Name your fallen, here among your loved ones,’ she said, her voice shaking a little, ‘and we’ll wish them our peace.’
I felt Archie tense beside me, then pick up his glass. Everyone did the same, and spoke the names of those we’d lost. Some I didn’t know: Belinda named an uncle and one of her cousins; Archie said the name of his battalion commander, who’d died at his side a year ago; Frances whispered her late husband’s name; Will raised his glass to the man he’d fought alongside, and tried to save: Barry Glenn; and Evie closed her eyes and said, ‘Lawrence Creswell.’
There was a silence while she struggled with her emotions, then she raised her head, cleared her throat, and tilted her glass in salute. ‘Peace also to Billy Duncan, stable boy. Joe Shackleton, hall boy. And Boxy Wood, my courageous and desperately missed friend.’ Evie had so many to mourn; surely she deserved an end to it now? It wasn’t until then that I realised, with a mixture of gratitude and superstitious fear that I had no-one special to name. Not yet. I looked at Archie, a chill brushing the nape of my neck; what if that meant that one day I would find myself naming him? I cast about in panic. ‘Anne Ashby,’ I said at last, remembering the Red Cross girl who’d helped us so often at Number Twelve, and who’d died there in the same explosion that had wounded Evie.
No-one seemed to realise I’d plucked the name from the air. Each was lost in their own memories and grief. Oliver’s life had been spared, and as of now, the only deaths I had encountered had been those poor boys who had passed through my hands during my duties in Belgium. I’d felt a responsibility to them, and a deep and aching sadness when they’d passed on, but let other people speak the names of those dead. Let their families and friends raise their glasses to them… Everyone I had ever really loved was here in England. Safe. I couldn’t feel any
thing except passionate gratitude for that.
Shortly after we’d settled in the sitting room we heard footsteps on the stairs, and the door opened timidly to admit Jessie. She exchanged warm greetings with Evie and Will, and then her gaze took in Archie and me. We were sitting in separate chairs, but our hands were linked, and her face went blank with surprise. I’d never even mentioned Archie to her, and it seemed no-one else had, either. He rose to his feet, and I had to hide a smile in my curled hand when I saw her eyes follow the graceful way he uncoiled from his chair, to stand straight and tall in front of her.
‘Jessie Goulding, this is Captain Archie Buchanan,’ I said, enjoying her look of awe and, it was obvious to all of us, impressed appreciation. ‘We’ve been friends since childhood.’
‘Aye, and now she’s agreed to keep me out of mischief for the rest of our lives,’ he added, turning to smile at me, and earning my everlasting gratitude on top of everything else. He turned back. ‘Good to meet you, Jessie.’
‘Likewise, Captain Buchanan,’ she said, shaking his hand, and looking past him at me, with a hint of disbelief in her expression. She sat down in the last spare seat on the settee, and waited while Archie reseated himself at my side. ‘Are you here long?’
‘Not nearly long enough,’ he said, reaching out to grasp my hand again. ‘I’m on loan from the army for a week. Government business.’ My heart lurched; government business could mean anything. He must have felt my hand twitch in his, because he looked over. ‘Nothing dangerous, darling. I promise.’
The endearment, and his words, went a long way towards soothing the low-key panic that had started up inside me, but did not wholly extinguish it. ‘Glad to hear it,’ I said, a little uncertainly.