Soldier's Daughter, The

by Goodwin, Rosie

  ‘But surely you’ll be doing a post-mortem?’ she said.

  The doctor shook his head. ‘I don’t think there will be a need for that.’ He patted her shoulder kindly. ‘I’m sorry, Briony. I know what a difficult time this has been for you, what with Sarah taking ill and now this, but you have to try and be strong. Your grandmother is going to need you to help her get through this. She and William were very close. And I happen to know that he was very fond of you too, if that’s any consolation.’ He turned for the door then and all she could do was watch helplessly as he left. How could she voice her suspicions – and who would listen to her even if she did?

  When the second telegram within days arrived at the little terraced house in Nuneaton, Lois stared at it fearfully. She was just having a cigarette in the kitchen with Mrs Brindley.

  ‘Shall I open it for yer, luvvie?’ Martha Brindley knew that Lois was already worried sick about Sarah and prayed that it wouldn’t contain bad news about the little girl. Lois had already lost her husband and if she were to lose her daughter too, it might tip her over the edge.

  Lois handed the telegram over with shaking hands and lifting a knife from the table, Mrs Brindley slit it open and hastily read it.

  ‘It’s Sarah, isn’t it?’ Lois asked tremulously. ‘She’s died, hasn’t she?’

  Mrs Brindley took a deep breath and shook her head. ‘No, it ain’t about Sarah, pet. It’s about yer dad. I’m afraid he’s passed away. Heart attack, it says here . . . I’m so sorry, but then didn’t you tell me some time ago how poorly ’e were?’

  Lois nodded numbly. Part of her was relieved that it wasn’t Sarah, but another part of her cried out at the injustice of it all. Her father was gone and she had never had the chance to see him again after their long estrangement and tell him how much she loved him face to face. Bitterness towards her mother welled up inside her. They would never have been estranged in the first place if it hadn’t been for her, and she said as much now to Mrs Brindley as it all poured out of her.

  ‘Well, happen he knew,’ the woman said sensibly. ‘An’ there’s no use cryin’ over spilt milk now. It’s young Briony as I feel sorry for. She’s there in the thick of it.’

  ‘I know,’ Lois said dully. ‘And now I wonder if I did right sending them all there in the first place. If I hadn’t, Sarah wouldn’t have caught polio and my father might not have—’

  ‘You can stop that silly nonsense right now!’ Mrs Brindley said firmly. ‘It’s just one o’ them things.’

  ‘I wonder if I should telephone my mother,’ Lois said then. ‘Perhaps she’ll want me to attend the funeral.’

  ‘I can’t answer that. You must do what yer think is right.’

  Lois pulled herself from the chair and walked unsteadily towards her coat which was hanging on a hook on the back of the door. This latest news had knocked her for six and her legs seemed to have developed a life of their own. After checking that she had enough coins for the call box, she told Mrs Brindley, ‘I shan’t be long. With a bit of luck it will be Briony that answers the phone.’

  ‘Shall I come with yer? You’ve ’ad a nasty shock,’ Mrs Brindley offered but Lois shook her head.

  ‘I’ll be fine, but I’d be grateful if you’d wait here till I get back. I don’t fancy being on my own at the minute.’

  ‘O’ course I will.’ Mrs Brindley’s eyes were full of sympathy as she watched Lois slip away. What was the saying? It never rains but it pours. Well, that was certainly the case here.

  Lois was back within minutes, white-faced and shaking. ‘My brother answered the phone,’ she said tearfully. ‘And he took great pleasure in informing me that I wasn’t welcome there. Not even for my own father’s funeral! He wouldn’t even let me speak to Briony, not for a single moment.’ And then at last the dam broke and a torrent of tears flooded down her cheeks.

  Mrs Brindley rubbed her arm tenderly. What a family! Poor Lois. For once even she was at a loss for words.

  It was getting dark now but still Briony sat, numb with shock. Mr Page and Sebastian had removed her grandfather’s body to the funeral parlour earlier in the afternoon in one of the coffins that was stored in the barn, and since then there had been an endless stream of visitors. News travelled fast in such a small community and friends and neighbours were keen to offer their commiserations. It was clear that William Frasier had been a very respected and well-liked gentleman. Mr Page was going to prepare the body for burial, and had told her in hushed tones that she could visit her grandfather in the Chapel of Rest the following day if she so wished.

  Once again, Mrs Dower and Howel had been marvellous and had come immediately they heard the news. Briony felt guilty just sitting there letting them do all the work, but Mrs Dower had insisted.

  ‘You just take it easy for a while,’ she said in a no-nonsense sort of voice. ‘You’ve had a bad shock, the second this week, and you need to rest.’

  And so Briony did as she was told and stared unseeingly at Alfie and Mabel, who were arguing over a jigsaw puzzle.

  It was as she was sitting there that an idea occurred to her and she asked, ‘Do you think Grandmother will send us away now that Grandfather has gone?’

  Mrs Dower paused. She was rolling pastry for a rhubarb pie on the kitchen table. ‘I wouldn’t think so,’ she said eventually. ‘She knows how much you do about the house, and where else would she get anyone to do what you do for such a pittance?’

  ‘She’d be too worried about how it would look to her church cronies anyway,’ Howel butted in scathingly as he piled some more logs onto the fire.

  ‘You’re right there,’ his mother agreed. Sometimes when she saw the way Briony and the children were treated, she felt like asking them to all move in with her at Kynance Farm. But it wouldn’t do to be seen to be interfering so instead she made sure that she did everything she could to make it easy for them. She hadn’t been in the best of moods as it was today, even before the poor master had died. Howel had calmly informed her over breakfast that he had told Megan that he didn’t wish to see her any more.

  ‘But why not?’ she had gasped. ‘Megan’s a lovely, loyal girl and she thinks the world of you. A blind man on a galloping horse could see that from a distance!’

  ‘That was the problem,’ he had told his mother. ‘It wasn’t fair to leave her hoping that we’d be wed when I didn’t have the same feelings for her. She deserves better than that.’

  ‘Well, your loss will be another man’s gain, you mark my word, you silly young bugger,’ his mother had told him stroppily, but he had merely shrugged and carried on with his breakfast. As far as he was concerned it was done with, and the sooner his mother accepted the fact, the better. And now this, on top! Martha thought. First Sarah, then Howel’s bombshell – and now the poor master passing! It made her fearful of what else fate might have in store for them next!

  Chapter Thirty

  William Frasier was buried a week later in the family plot in the little churchyard high on the hill overlooking the sea. It was a bitterly cold day with a nip of frost in the air, and the wind that whipped off the sea had the mourners holding onto their hats and shivering. Even so, Briony decided that it was a nice place to be buried. The quaint little church had been packed to capacity, with some folks even standing outside – and it reinforced to her yet again how highly her grandfather had been regarded. After a fierce row with her grandmother, the children had been left back at the house with Mrs Dower, who was preparing a spread for anyone that wished to return after the funeral. Briony had stood her ground on this one. She didn’t think that funerals were a place for children, and eventually Marion had backed down and grudgingly agreed that they needn’t attend. Briony was even allowed to sit in the front pew with Sebastian and her grandmother during the service, but she knew that it was only for show. It wouldn’t do to be banished to the back of the church, seeing as she was family.

  She had heard a few people muttering about her mother’s absence, saying how disgrace
ful it was that Lois hadn’t bothered to show up for her own father’s funeral, even if they had been estranged for a number of years. Briony was forced to bite her tongue to stop herself from telling them the truth – that her mother had not been allowed to come. The day before, she had got up very early and had lifted an envelope from the mat in the hallway, written in her mother’s handwriting and addressed to Mrs M. Frasier. She had taken it straight in with the breakfast later, only to see the woman give it no more than a cursory glance, before throwing it into the heart of the flames that were licking up the chimney.

  ‘Huh! It’s from her!’ she had said with loathing, and clenching her hands into fists, Briony had slammed out, leaving her to it. Better that than give her a piece of her mind! The way Briony saw it, they could have been a comfort to each other at this sad time, but Marion was still determined to keep her at arm’s length. Briony thought it was stupid. They were both missing William, after all.

  Now as the mourners all trailed out of the churchyard leaving the gravediggers to finish their job she walked sedately behind Sebastian and her grandmother. Marion was leaning heavily on his arm. The flimsy black veil that covered the woman’s hat was flapping madly in the breeze, but beneath it Briony could see that she was openly sobbing, which only went to show that she must have some feelings at least. Above them gulls and curlews were wheeling in the air and they could hear the crash of the waves on the beach beyond the cliff.

  ‘You will help to serve the food and drink to the mourners when we get back to the house, girl,’ her grandmother informed her coldly in the car on the way home.

  During the previous week, Briony and Mrs Dower had methodically cleaned the whole of the downstairs. Dust sheets had been folded and put away, and the furniture and mirrors polished until they gleamed. Carpets had been taken outside and thrown across the line where they were beaten until there was not a spot of dust left on them, and even the library, which Briony had not even known was there, had been reopened. Sebastian had removed his father’s wheelchair, storing it in the garage, and the bed was once more upstairs in her grandparents’ bedroom, next to the room that Alfie now slept in. Howel had arrived early that morning to light fires in all the downstairs rooms, and as they entered the house they were met by warmth and the pleasant smell of cooking.

  Mrs Dower had somehow managed to produce a banquet fit for a king even on rationing. There were hot meat pies and sausage rolls, bread – crusty and fresh from the oven – and a variety of cold meats and pickles as well as home-baked sponges and fruit cakes, and a number of other treats. It had been agreed that the children could attend the wake and they were waiting for Briony as she walked into the hallway, dry-eyed and looking terribly pale. Her grandmother instantly summoned Alfie to her and disappeared off into the sitting room with him, but Mabel sidled up to Briony and placed her small hand in hers.

  ‘Are yer all right?’ she asked softly with genuine affection, and this seemed to unlock the hard lump that had formed in Briony’s throat. She started to cry.

  ‘Come away into the kitchen,’ the little girl urged. ‘Yer don’t want this ’oity-toity lot seein’ yer blubbin’.’ She dragged Briony down the hallway, and as she entered the kitchen, Briony saw Howel standing there and just fell into his arms.

  Mrs Dower, who was about to carry a plate of ham and mustard sandwiches through to the sitting room, felt something akin to an electric shock suddenly pass through her as she saw the tender way her son was cradling Briony in his arms.

  So that’s why he got shot of young Megan, she thought to herself. He’s only gone and fallen for Briony! But the realisation brought her no joy. Briony already had a sweetheart and all she could see ahead was heartache for the silly young sod. Shaking her head, she hurried past them and got on with the job at hand.

  Life gradually settled back into some sort of routine. The children had been allowed to return to school, which was just as well because the weather had turned so cold that they didn’t venture outside any more unless they had to, or unless they decided to go over to the farm to see Talwyn.

  Sebastian seemed to be in a much better mood. Probably because now that his father was gone his mother was able to be a lot more generous with him, Mrs Dower said caustically.

  ‘He always was able to wrap her round his little finger,’ she confided to Briony. ‘And now the poor master’s gone, he’s probably bleeding her dry. But it’ll all end in tears, you just mark my words. The worm will turn one of these days – and it’ll be God help us all when it does and the money’s dried up!’

  Briony didn’t much care. Sebastian was spending even more time away from home now and that suited her just fine.

  It was a clear cold night as Mrs Brindley crossed the yard to check on Lois. The air raids had had them scuttling to the safety of the shelter more nights than she cared to remember recently, although there wasn’t the same urgency about getting in there now as there had been. Now Mrs Brindley would fill a Thermos flask with tea and make herself a hot-water bottle before she’d even think of leaving the house. ‘An’ if the buggers wanna bomb me afore I get there, then they can bloody well bomb me,’ she was often heard to say.

  There were many nights when Lois didn’t join her as amazingly, she too had joined the WVS and often spent the nights when the area was raided in some church hall or another, helping those who had been injured or made homeless. Since receiving the news about Sarah, Lois seemed to be staying off the bottle more and more, a fact for which Martha Brindley was thankful. She was still gravely concerned about her friend though. There was barely any meat on her bones from what she could see of it. But then Mrs Brindley thought that was hardly surprising as she ate barely enough to keep a sparrow alive. To make matters worse, Lois had visited the doctor following the death of her father and he had prescribed sleeping tablets to help her sleep. Mrs Brindley didn’t approve of them at all. In fact, the way she saw it they were downright dangerous. Lois would pop them in like sweeties and Mrs Brindley had a fear of her overdosing on them. Now, after pushing Lois’s door open, she entered the kitchen to find her neighbour sitting at the table staring morosely at some photographs of James and the children. It was clear that she had been crying, and Mrs Brindley sighed. If the raids started again tonight she was going to have a rare old time of it trying to get Lois into the shelter.

  ‘Yer can put those away,’ she said with authority. ‘No use sittin’ blubbin’ over what was. We ’ave to get on wi’ things as best we can an’ thank the good Lord for what we still ’ave!’

  ’Sorry.’ Lois looked at her guiltily as Mrs Brindley shuffled the photos into a pile and shoved them into the sideboard drawer.

  ‘Now then – what ’ave you ’ad to eat today?’

  When Lois lowered her head Mrs Brindley sighed again and moving towards the bread bin she said sternly, ‘I’m goin’ to make yer a sandwich. It’ll ’ave to be Spam but I ain’t leavin’ till you’ve eaten it. Do yer ’ear me?’ She scraped some margarine thinly on the bread, and unbidden her mind slipped back to a time when she had been able to dollop lashings of real butter on as thickly as she liked. It seemed an awfully long while ago now.

  Lois grimaced when Martha placed the food in front of her, but she gamely tried to eat it. Mrs Brindley could be a tough old bird at times but for all that, Lois didn’t know how she would have got through the last terrible months without her. The loss of her beloved James was like a gnawing pain constantly eating away at her, and that added to the worry of how Sarah was and missing Briony and Alfie made it seem barely worthwhile getting out of bed most days. The tablets the doctor had given her had helped, however, although on a few occasions she had accidentally taken more than she should have and had slept the clock round. She didn’t mind. Sleep was her best friend now. When she was asleep, the pain and the constant worry went away and sometimes she just wished that she could sleep forever. She had only just finished forcing the food down her throat when the all too familiar sound of the air-raid sire
n roared into life.

  ‘Oh lawdy,’ Mrs Brindley grumbled. ‘’Ere we go again. You get yerself into the shelter and take some extra blankets, pet. It’s enough to cut yer in two out there. I’ll join yer just as soon as I’ve made us a flask an’ some hot-water bottles. We’re goin’ to need ’em tonight.’

  Lois raised her chin and stared back at her defiantly. ‘Actually, I think I’ll get off up to the church hall in case there are any casualties, if it’s all the same to you, Martha.’

  ‘But it’s dangerous to be out walkin’ the streets when there’s a raid on, pet,’ the other woman blustered. She was secretly proud of what Lois was doing, but that didn’t stop her worrying about her all the same.

  ‘Well, someone has to do it,’ Lois shot back, and then her voice softening, she added. ‘I know you mean well but I’ll be fine. I don’t think about my own problems when I’m helping someone else. You go and get yourself into the shelter and I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.’

  Mrs Brindley hovered uncertainly for a moment but then she shrugged and hurried across the yard. You could only help them that would help theirselves, an’ if Lois wanted to be difficult an’ take risks then that was up to her. On her own head be it; she could only do what she could do at the end o’ the day!

  In The Heights at that time, Briony was staring critically into her bedroom mirror. Mrs Dower had persuaded her to go to a dance at the village hall with Howel and Talwyn. Social events had been a rare occurrence since the start of the war, but a band from Truro had been booked to play and almost all the young folk from the area were expected to turn out for it. It was a foregone conclusion that there would be far more young women there than men, as most of the boys had joined up. Even so, everyone was looking forward to it – especially Talwyn, who rarely got out to be with young people her own age.

  Mrs Dower had altered one of Talwyn’s dresses to fit Briony especially for the occasion. It was a simple style in a deep blue colour, made of heavy cotton and with a sweetheart neckline, short sleeves and a soft flared skirt that swirled about her knees as she moved. Briony had put a wide black belt about her waist but wondered if she didn’t look somewhat overdressed. It had been so long since she’d had occasion to dress up that she felt a little strange. She had chosen to wear her black patent high heels with it and brushed her long black hair till it shone and had even applied a little make-up for the first time in months. Now she sighed. There was nothing else she could do so she might as well just go and make the best of it, even if she wasn’t in the mood.