Easterleigh Hall at War

by Margaret Graham

  Mrs Moore called, ‘Come and sit, both of you, while we prepare a tray for Mr Harvey to take.’

  Evie was already pouring boiling water into the teapot, and instead of scones they set out fancies, which had been part of the feast prepared yesterday. Annie laid the tray with plates, serviettes, cups, milk, and some of the precious sugar.

  Veronica thanked Mr Harvey as he placed the tray on the side table at her left hand. She and Richard sat together, with James on Richard’s knee. ‘Shall I be mother?’ she said to her stepmother, who winced at such a lower class question. Veronica poured, smiling slightly. Mr Harvey handed around the cups, and then the fancies. No one even looked. He replaced the plate on the tray, bowing when Lord Brampton waved him away without even a glance. Veronica said, ‘Thank you so much, Mr Harvey, what would we do without you? Indeed, what would we have done without you over these last terrible years?’

  ‘Thank you, madam.’ He backed out, and almost shut the door, almost, as Veronica had known he would. She looked at her father, waiting, because he had come for something.

  He said, ‘I have tried to find a buyer for this white elephant. I have failed. Therefore, when the last patient leaves, which I insist must be by the last day of January 1919, I am razing it to the ground as so many of my friends are forced to do, in the face of the taxes inherent on such properties.’

  There was triumph in every inch of his body. Veronica felt the words as though they were a body blow. Beside her Richard stirred. ‘I have used most of my assets on keeping Easterleigh Hall as a sanctuary for our wounded, as has Sir Anthony Travers, and Auberon. Would you, however, allow me more time to try and raise enough to buy this wonderful home from you?’ He was almost begging, and Veronica had never loved him more than at this moment, because she knew what this pleading must have cost him. James reached out and pulled his father’s nose. ‘For the sake of your grandson,’ Richard added.

  ‘It’s too late,’ Lord Brampton said, ‘for such humble pie. Did you really think, Veronica, that your behaviour, when your husband sent me away like some common criminal, would be forgotten by me, or your stepmother? So now you will understand the reality of consequences. You will all have to find your own damned homes, and these overfamiliar servants must find other jobs. Razed it will be, much as that infernal tree has been, which seemed to give you and your brother, and the late unlamented interfering governess of yours, Miss Wainton such pleasure. The matter is in the hands of my solicitors.’ He raised his voice. ‘Stop skulking at the door, Harvey, and load up the silver. You’ll have kept it neat and tidy in your safe and now it will be even safer in my keeping. Have it deposited in the Rolls. Meanwhile I will be inspecting the wine, because this will also be collected in due course. I will remove the wine cellar accounts today.’

  There was a click as the door shut.

  Evie dropped the pan of potatoes she was just about to put on to boil as Mr Harvey staggered into the kitchen, holding his chest, his face ashen and sweating. ‘Mrs Moore, quick,’ Evie called. Mrs Moore peered out from the scullery, with Maudie at her elbow. She ran across and together they helped him to the armchair which Raisin vacated reluctantly, helped on his way by Evie. Mrs Moore yelled, ‘Maudie, get Dr Nicholls, and then Lady Veronica.’ She loosened Mr Harvey’s wing collar. He was gasping, and holding out an envelope. ‘Don’t try and talk,’ Mrs Moore soothed him. ‘No, don’t talk, my love.’ She stroked his hair, and he leaned against her. Evie was on her knees next to him, holding his hand, shouting after Maudie, ‘Hurry, for God’s sake hurry.’

  ‘The silver,’ he gasped. ‘The silver. The small pieces, all gone.’

  Mrs Moore and Evie stared at one another, not understanding. He was pushing the envelope at Evie. She took it, and saw her name on the envelope in Millie’s writing, and fear dragged at her. She ripped it open, still on her knees, as Dr Nicholls rushed in, his bag in one hand, Matron puffing in behind, with two orderlies carrying a stretcher.

  ‘Out of the way, Evie, for God’s sake,’ Dr Nicholls roared. Evie was reading Millie’s words. ‘Out, out.’ Dr Nicholls shook her shoulder. She looked up and scrambled to her feet, backing away as they all worked on her beloved Mr Harvey. Veronica flew in. ‘Evie?’ Evie pointed to Mr Harvey, and continued to back away until the table stopped her, the letter still in her hand. Veronica said, ‘Evie?’

  Evie showed her the letter.

  Well, Evie

  The tree is my goodbye present for you. I said I’d get you, but you probably still don’t know why. It’s because you’re just so smug, so bloody perfect with your hotel plans, with your do-gooding. You and your family is always at it, and so I got to do it as well and will have to go on doing it, if I stay, because you’ll get your hotel, you see if you don’t, and I’ll have to do the laundry, or something.

  It’s been hell, working in a freak show. And it’s not over, because Jack will come home, and we’ll have his bleeding shouting all night and who knows what he’ll look like, and if you’re daft enough to think them Bramptons will still be friendly and nice, when they don’t need us, you got another think coming. They’ll be back to the masters and we’ll be the servants.

  I have a right to a whole man, with nice skin, no blue scars, and I’m going to have him. Heine likes me, and I will make him love me. I will. And we’ve got our start in life, thanks to the bloody Bramptons. We’re going on a boat, but you won’t know where and now things will work for me. Just look after Tim because Heine doesn’t want him. I had to choose. You Forbes took him away from me, anyway. He loved his gran more than me, so now you lot can do the donkey work and anyway, Jack loved the bairn, not me. Don’t think I didn’t know that. Just like you he is, the big person helping the little people. Well, get on with it and thank you for the silver. I hid it in the garage attic, so you got that wrong. But I was right, it will make a good train play area. Put up a plaque with my name, Millie Forbes

  Jack, Martin, Charlie and Auberon marched through Albert, each full of their own thoughts. It was the end of November and not a shot had been fired since eleven o’clock on the eleventh. Jack found the quiet unnerving and strange, and knowing that they could walk erect, and light as many cigarettes as they wished without a sniper finding his target when the third match was struck, took some getting used to. Only a few birds sang because there were no trees, just stumps. There were few houses but a load of bloody ruins, and even the leaning Virgin on top of the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Brebières had gone, shelled by the British to stop the Germans from using the tower as an observation post. What the hell must it be like to look on this if it was your home?

  He shook his head clear of the thought, because it wasn’t a million miles from Bastard Brampton’s intentions. He knew Evie’s letter about Millie almost by heart, knew that he was free to be with Grace now and that was still something that he couldn’t quite grasp, for he had thought it impossible. He had written to her, telling her again of his love, and that he was hers, and Agatha’s, if she would have him, but saying that he came with a son, and that was not negotiable. She had telegraphed back. Agatha says yes stop so I will have to come too stop your son is my son too stop

  Mart came alongside, hitching his rifle. ‘Are you going to tell the boss about Evie’s thoughts for Easterleigh Hall?’

  ‘It’s not my place, man,’ Jack muttered, throwing his cigarette end to the ground. Along the sides of the roads the French were clearing the rubble, and stopped to cheer as they passed.

  ‘It’s not your place?’ Mart laughed out loud, waving at the children, and tossing them his last tin of bully beef. ‘That truly is such a load of bollocks. When has Jack Forbes ever known his place?’

  A Frenchwoman was coming towards them, a basket on her arm. She stopped, dug into the basket and brought out apples for them. They took them, and Jack insisted, in French, that she had a packet of cigarettes for her husband. ‘Il est mort,’ she said, but took the cigarettes anyway. The men marched on towards the billet, two miles further d
own the long straight road.

  That evening Jack and Auberon did rounds of the men billeted out of town and under tents in an area previously cleared of unexploded shells. The talk was of those who would not come home, and what the future would bring in a Britain fit for heroes, as Lloyd George had promised, and the stunned acknowledgement that they themselves had survived. When they returned, Mart and Charlie were heating water over a small fire, and levering open cans of bully beef. Mart looked up. ‘Will you share a tea with us, sir, before you go on for your feast?’ His tone was ironic, not bitter.

  Aub shrugged. ‘I’d kill for one.’

  Charlie shook his head. ‘Naughty naughty, no need to do that now.’

  There was a faint laugh all round. They hunkered round the fire, holding the tin mugs between their hands. Mart threw on some sticks, and one more for luck. They all watched it smoulder before bursting into flames. ‘I still can’t believe it,’ Auberon said. ‘That great cedar tree down, just like that. They think the pair of them found a ship bound for America, or so Richard has been told by Brampton, who’s had the police track them as far as he can. I presume you won’t be taking off after them, Jack?’

  His face was all innocence. Jack watched the fire, wanting to grin. ‘I think I’ll forgo that pleasure, sir, but if your father has his thugs search my parents’ house one more time, I’ll rip his head off.’

  ‘Pleased to hear it.’ Auberon sipped his tea. Mart coughed. Jack glared. Auberon was watching them both. ‘Out with it.’ He checked his watch. ‘I have to be at dinner in ten minutes.’

  Mart said, ‘You know Jack heard from Evie yesterday, well . . .’

  Charlie interrupted, ‘Amazing how postie finds us out here, really amazing.’

  Jack watched Auberon watching them, one eyebrow raised. Jack gave in. ‘Well, what she said was that your da’s going to raze Easterleigh to the ground, but she reckons it’d make a grand hotel. Harry Travers thinks there are enough of the ex-patients to spread the word and you’d get plenty to stay. It’s her dream, you know, running a hotel, but reckon I’ve already told you that, and, aye, it’d be a grand place, with grand food. But then he won’t sell to you, will he? So that’s that, unless someone else could head it up. She’s looking elsewhere because she doesn’t think it could ever happen. A dream is just a dream, she says.’

  There was a long silence, as they all threw on the fire what small pieces of wood they’d gathered in this disturbed and treeless area. Jack wondered what the cedar tree had sounded like as it burned, and what pain Evie had felt, and he wanted to put his arms around her and tell her all would be well. He laughed grimly. Would it? What about Simon? What about the hotel? What about her future? He had one, in the mine, but what about his grand beautiful sister? What of her?

  Finally Auberon rose, dusting down his trousers, peering at his unpolished boots. He had replaced the compass in the heel, and refused to remove it, even now. ‘That’s of great interest. The final piece in a puzzle I’ve been working on, Jack. Try not to worry about Evie, I think I can see a way through. But in the meantime I’ve heard from Richard. He’s had you all designated as miners, you too, Charlie. This allows you the green card as pivotal workers and a swift demobilisation. You will be amongst the first home. He is sending to Simon’s prison camp and we will have him and Roger home before they know where they are, and that should bring a smile to your sister’s face.’

  Jack saw the tiredness suddenly drench his captain, and stood as Auberon swayed. ‘Sir.’ He put out his hand. Auberon smiled, stiffened. ‘Do you know, I think I could quite sleep on my feet, but what’s new about that, eh, and soon you’ll be home, between sheets and not expected into work until you’ve had some weeks off. Now, Charlie, come and find me at Easterleigh Hall before the end of January, and let’s see what we can sort out. Off for din-dins, now.’

  He turned, started to walk away, then stopped and called over his shoulder, ‘I’m leaving at first light and won’t be back for a while. I have things I need to do in Rotterdam, but tell those at home I’ve been held up at HQ, there’s good chaps.’

  Jack watched him go, seeing him stumble in the darkness, recover and head off to the officers’ mess, which was lit inside with oil lamps, and outside with two lamps hung from poles. Auberon looked so alone that Jack started after him, running, pulling him to a halt. ‘Do you need us, sir, in Rotterdam? We’re in no hurry.’ It was a lie.

  Auberon smiled, patted Jack’s shoulder. ‘I need you to trust me, Jack, that’s what I need. Really trust me because I hope I get it right, this time, for us all.’

  Mart and Charlie had joined them. Charlie said, ‘But you can’t go, not without us.’

  Jack shook his head. ‘Charlie, let the man do what he has to do. He’ll come back and you’ll be staying with me when you’ve seen your mam, and will see him then.’

  Jack saluted his captain. ‘We made it, sir.’

  Auberon returned the salute. ‘We wouldn’t have, without you, Sergeant.’

  Jack replied, ‘Nor without you, Aub.’

  Mart said, ‘For the love of God, you’ll be kissing next.’

  Auberon laughed. ‘You take care, Jacko.’ He shook them all by the hand. ‘God speed,’ he said. ‘Give my regards to everyone at home.’

  Chapter 16

  Easterleigh Hall, mid December 1918

  EVIE SAT OPPOSITE Edward Manton in the trap, heading away from Easton towards Easterleigh Hall. It was a crisp bright day and the shorn wheat and barley fields glinted behind cobwebbed leafless hedges glistening with frost. Ice pooled in tiny shell holes, as Harry had called them when they came this way last week with her da’s cart piled high with sea coal. They had looked at one another and he’d muttered that they’d have to get used to rethinking the images that had become natural. That was when they had really begun to believe that the war was over.

  Two days ago she walked over to her mam, at Harry and Ron Simmons’ insistence. They said, ‘You need to get out and see some hotels, Evie, because it’s clear that Lord Brampton is never going to change his mind. We heard Veronica and Richard talking in the office; worried to death they are.’

  She had spent two nights with her mam and today Edward had taken her to view a hotel which was for sale in Gosforn. Its clientele were commercial travellers. The whole thing had depressed her, but with a lick of paint it could be brightened up and at least there would be a job for Simon, when he finally arrived, but not for Jack. It was this that hauled her down into blackness. It would be the mine again for him, when he finally returned.

  Edward flicked the reins and Sally snorted, tossing her head. He asked, ‘Has Grace replied to Jack yet?’

  He was staring out at the fields as though they were the most interesting thing on earth as they approached the crossroads. She followed his gaze but there were just a few rooks, gleaning what tiny morsels were left from the harvest. She said, ‘She’s hesitating now and insists that he needs to see her and Agatha. He needs to understand that she will look like this for ever, not just the duration of the war. She thinks that in the war we accept things, feeling that with peace all will revert back to normal; the dead will live again and return, injuries will go as though they were never here.’

  Sally huffed, her breath visible. Edward pulled on the left rein and she turned on to the road leading to Easterleigh Hall, which was visible through the leafless branches. Edward continued, hunched over the reins, ‘She’s right, of course. My parishioners are beginning to comprehend the permanency of pain and loss, the exhaustion of war, but yours isn’t over yet, is it, Evie? Still patients are arriving.’

  Evie nodded. ‘There’s talk of Spanish flu too, though not here, yet. Dr Nicholls says it’s because everyone’s so tired and we’ve no resistance, particularly the men, and it’s like a bloody scythe, begging your pardon, Parson. As though the world hasn’t been through enough.’

  Edward shrugged, and broke Sally into a trot. ‘She likes to stretch her legs, Evie. She might be
a bit of an old girl but she has a sparkle in her. Bit like your Mrs Moore, who had a soft spot for Mr Harvey, I gather.’

  Evie grinned, holding on to the sides of the trap as it lurched into a hole, then out. ‘Thankfully, it’s reciprocal, the dear old things. They’re taking it slowly though, which perhaps isn’t wise, given their years.’ She waited a moment as they turned into the tradesmen’s entrance and Edward slowed Sally to a walk. She said, ‘We can use the drive, you know. We all do now.’

  Edward shrugged. ‘I forgot, but we’re here now.’

  They clipped on, and she said, ‘But what of Grace and Jack, Edward? There can be no marriage, as who knows where Millie is, even if a divorce were possible?’

  They continued alongside the yew hedge quietly now, as Sally walked on yew mulch. Edward shrugged again. ‘After the last four years, my dear, I think we need what happiness we can find. Perhaps they can jump over a broom or something meaningful. Either way Tim needs a mother, Gracie needs her Jack, and Jack needs her. So the equation seems simple, and I can’t see the good folk of Easton, or God himself, bothering unduly, can you? What needs to happen is for Lord Brampton to stop worrying Grace and your family as to Millie’s whereabouts, as though they’d know. He wants his silver back, but that’s only to be expected, I suppose.’

  They were turning into the stable yard. ‘Have you yet mentioned the hotel idea to Lady Veronica and Captain Richard?’ Edward asked, pulling Sally to a halt, and jumping down from the trap. He held out his hands to Evie, who let him swing her to the ground in an arc, a smile on his face. With the demands of war he seemed to have found a sense of informality, or was it normality? She shook her head. ‘I’ve said nothing. What is the point when the Hall is to come down? The fight seems to have gone out of everyone with the cedar tree gone, and Brampton as he is. We’re all going to disperse to who knows where, and the men aren’t even home yet, though they’re crucial workers and have been in the war from the start. Oh, I don’t know, Edward. We’ve clung to the idea of peace and of course it’s the most wonderful thing . . .’ She stopped, her voice shaking.