Chaff upon the Wind

by Margaret Dickinson

  They both looked up to see him standing there, so tall and resplendent in his uniform that Kitty caught her breath and Johnnie’s eyes shone to see a real, live soldier.

  ‘You got a gun?’ Fascinated, the child moved closer, with no hint of shyness.

  ‘Not yet, Johnnie.’ Edward reached out and ruffled the boy’s black hair. Johnnie grinned up at him.

  Kitty bit her lip. She had never wanted anything more than to spill out the truth to him at this moment. It seemed cruel that Edward was saying goodbye to his own nephew and yet was completely unaware of the fact.

  She blinked back the tears that threatened and said, ‘Do you have to go, Master . . . Teddy?’

  He was looking at her and smiling gently. ‘Do you know, Kitty, I think that’s the first time you’ve called me “Teddy” without having to be reminded.’

  But Kitty was not going to allow him to make light of the moment. ‘You once told me that you didn’t think any cause was worth being a martyr for,’ she persisted. ‘But isn’t that exactly what you’re doing by volunteering for this war?’

  ‘It’s a bit different when one’s country is threatened to whether women have the vote or not. Don’t you think?’

  Kitty smiled, a hint of mischief in her tone, yet she was still very serious. ‘Perhaps the women who fight for the vote think that our country – and it is ours just as much as yours – is threatened when it’s governed totally by men!’

  ‘Why, you cheeky wench, Kitty Clegg. I do believe underneath you’re as much a suffragette as Miriam.’

  Their faces sobered as they remembered just what sacrifice Miriam’s involvement in the movement had cost her.

  Softly, he said, ‘I think you, of all people, understand why I have to go, don’t you, Kitty?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’ Her voice was no more than a whisper. ‘Yes, I do understand. But – but I don’t want you to get hurt or – or . . .’ She could not bring herself to name the dreadful fear that was in her heart.

  He forced a cheerful laugh. ‘Don’t you worry about me, Kitty. Just – just take care of yourself and – and little Johnnie. Promise me, now?’

  Her throat was so constricted by threatening tears that she could only nod dumbly.

  ‘And,’ he added softly, coming to stand very close to her and take her hands into his. She felt the gentle pressure and suddenly she gripped his hands in return. ‘Keep an eye on Miriam for me, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I will.’ There was a quaver in her voice as she tried to blink back the tears. She put her arms about him and he leaned his cheek against her hair. He was much taller than she was now and whenever she looked at him, she never failed to marvel at the straight-backed, handsome young man he had become. The pale, vulnerable invalid was now a distant memory, a shadow.

  ‘Oh Teddy, Teddy, take care of yourself,’ she whispered, overwhelmed with love for him. The realization shuddered through her. She loved this man deeply. Maybe she always had done, a true and steady love that was nothing like the infatuation she had felt for Jack Thorndyke. This was real love, when you loved someone more than you loved yourself. Like the love she felt for little Johnnie, yet different, oh so very different. She felt longing sweep through her and involuntarily her arms tightened about him. The strength of her feeling consumed her, overwhelmed her and almost frightened her. If she could have kept him here, safely with her, if she had been able to stop him marching away to war, she would have done so. She couldn’t bear to let him go, yet she must, for she had no hold on him, could have no hold on him.

  Not while she was bound to Jack.

  It was as if he read her thoughts for, against her hair, he whispered softly so that the boy should not hear, ‘Oh Kitty, Kitty, why are you so foolish over Thorndyke, when you’re so strong, so positive, so – so sensible about everything else?’

  Kitty pressed her lips together to still their trembling and tears welled in her eyes. Against his shoulder, she shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. If she were to say one word, just one word, then she was so afraid that the floodgates might open and she would spill out everything, all the hurt and misery that loving Jack had brought her. Her girlish infatuation had trapped her, shackled her for life, it seemed, to a man for whom she not only now had no love, but could not respect either.

  If only . . .

  She felt a tremor run through Edward and he released her suddenly and stepped away, but his eyes were still on her as he gave them both a smart salute, turned and walked away.

  Only now, as he marched away from her, his back straight, did Kitty realize exactly how she felt about Edward Franklin.

  She bent and scooped the child into her arms, clutching him with such a fierceness of love and longing that the boy struggled.

  ‘Oh Johnnie, Johnnie, what a fool I’ve been.’

  Forty-One

  Even after the death of her husband, Miriam continued to live at the Hall, keeping house for Sir Ralph and helping to run the vast Nunsthorpe estate.

  ‘She’s thrown herself into it,’ Edward had told Kitty just before that final visit when he had come to say goodbye. ‘It’s as if – as if – she’s trying to make amends.’

  ‘I think she is,’ Kitty had said quietly. ‘I haven’t seen much of her since – since it happened, but she seems changed. Very subdued. Not at all like we think of Miss Miriam.’

  Despite her married, or rather widowed status, Kitty could never think of her as anything but ‘Miss Miriam’.

  And now with Edward gone to war, there was nothing to prevent Kitty taking Johnnie to the Manor when she went to help Jack with the threshing, though she was careful to keep him in the stackyard or the kitchen area so that there was no chance of Mr and Mrs Franklin seeing him. Lately, Mrs Grundy had mellowed in her attitude and quite enjoyed spoiling the little chap with scones and butter and raspberry jam, although she was still disapproving of Kitty ‘living in sin’ with Jack.

  ‘I know it’s his bairn, Kitty, and I know you’re besotted with the fellow, but . . .’

  Kitty lowered her eyes and bit her lip, hiding the fact that over the months she had seen a new side to Jack Thorndyke, a side of him she did not like. In fact . . .

  Mrs Grundy’s voice intruded on her thoughts. ‘Eh dearie me, these men have got a lot to answer for. Look at ’em now. Rushing to join up as if they’re going on a picnic. It’ll be no picnic, let me tell you. My nephew was in the Boer War and even though he wasn’t injured, he came back that unsettled, he didn’t work for two years.’ She shook her wise head sadly. ‘No, the young fellers don’t know what they’re letting themselves in for. Look at Master Edward now. We all know why he’s joined up. Just to make his father proud of him. But what good’s a dead hero to a mother, eh? You answer me that, Kitty. How would you feel if it was your little lad there they was taking for cannon fodder?’

  Kitty shuddered and her fingers, resting on Johnnie’s shoulder, tightened involuntarily.

  ‘Oh, and talking about your bairn, that reminds me. Madam asked to see the little lad next time you came over.’

  ‘Madam?’ Kitty’s head jerked up. ‘Mrs Franklin wants to – to see Johnnie?’

  Mrs Grundy nodded. ‘Sarah, run up and ask madam if it’s convenient.’

  ‘Oh, but I don’t know if I ought to take him up there . . .’ Kitty began, scrabbling around for a plausible excuse. Any excuse. But the maid had gone.

  ‘But she’s asked to see him, Kitty,’ Mrs Grundy insisted. ‘You’ll have to take him.’

  When the parlourmaid, resplendent in a smart black dress and crisp white apron with a fancy bib, returned to say that madam was waiting for them, Kitty wondered, for a brief moment, what her life would have been like if she had not become embroiled, not only with Jack, but with Miriam and her son. A safe, yet dull existence, she supposed. As she scooped the boy up into her arms, she thought, but then there would be no little Johnnie. She hugged him to her and felt his chubby little arms creep about her neck and his soft chee
k rub against her own. He was her life now and nothing and no one would part them.

  As she followed Sarah, Kitty felt a tremor of fear. The boy was about to meet his real grandmother and Mrs Franklin was a sweet-natured woman. What if, after all, she fell for the little boy’s charms and wanted to acknowledge his existence? Perhaps she could take him away from her.

  The door was opening in front of her and she was stepping into her former mistress’s sitting room. Mrs Franklin looked up from her needlework and at once Kitty saw the expression in her eyes soften as she looked upon her grandson, her only grandchild. Her voice was not quite steady as she patted the place beside her on the sofa and said, ‘Come and sit down, Kitty.’ But her gaze never left the boy’s face. Johnnie, standing beside Kitty and leaning against her knee, smiled up at the strange lady without a trace of shyness.

  ‘He’s a handsome little chap,’ Mrs Franklin murmured, still staring at him.

  ‘Yes, madam,’ Kitty began. ‘He’s like . . .’ She had been about to say ‘like his father’ but then, thinking that the mention of Jack Thorndyke would bring back unhappy memories to this woman, Kitty said instead, ‘He’s got a lovely, sunny nature too, ma’am. He’s a bit mischievous and a mite too adventurous for my peace of mind – but then he’s a real boy,’ she added indulgently and there was a note of pride in her voice. ‘He loves to get out into the fields to be with the men. He even tries to help them and his dad . . .’ She hesitated, but there was no avoiding mention of the child’s father. ‘He’s made him a set of wooden tools.’

  Mrs Franklin was smiling down at him. ‘How wonderful it must be,’ she murmured, ‘to have such a healthy, sturdy little boy, even if he is a handful for you, Kitty.’ She cast an amused glance at her.

  ‘Yes, madam.’ There was a pause and then Kitty said, ‘I’m sorry but I must go. There’s work . . .’

  ‘Of course, I’m sorry. But if you want to leave Johnnie with me for an hour or so . . .?’

  Kitty’s heart froze. Was this it? Was this the beginning of Mrs Franklin’s change of heart? Did she want her grandson?

  Her sudden fear made her speak sharply. ‘No, no, madam. I’d best take him with me. Keep him with me.’ She couldn’t help the slight emphasis on the word keep. When she saw the sudden pain in the older woman’s eyes, she knew that Mrs Franklin had noticed it and recognized its meaning too.

  But with her usual serenity, Mrs Franklin said, ‘Of course, Kitty, I do understand.’

  And in her words, too, there was unmistakable meaning.

  ‘So, it’s not going to be over by Christmas like they all said,’ Jack said with a sneer in his voice. ‘Here we are in January and, by all accounts, both sides are digging in. Silly fools! Throwing up their jobs and rushing off to volunteer to be heroes. How am I supposed to cope with young boys and women in me threshing team?’

  They were working at the Manor, and while Kitty always made sure she left Johnnie with either her own mother or Mrs Grundy, she was nevertheless obliged to come to help Jack. Daily, it seemed, more and more of the men were volunteering. She said nothing in reply to Jack’s statement, but smiled inwardly. Already women were beginning to take over many of the jobs that the men had left behind. Perhaps this was the way they could prove themselves. Perhaps this was what they needed, as Edward had once suggested, to show themselves worthy of being given the vote. Maybe this way . . .

  Jack’s voice broke into her thoughts again. ‘What about Milly? Would she help out, d’ya reckon? Or is she a lady’s maid now?’

  Kitty glanced down at her hands. For the brief time she had been Miss Miriam’s maid, her hands had been well cared for. Now they were as rough and chapped and calloused as when she had been a lowly scullery maid at thirteen.

  She looked up and met Jack’s eyes. ‘I doubt it,’ she said shortly. ‘Our Milly’s got her eye on takin’ over the cook’s job.’

  She saw Jack’s glance go beyond her, over her shoulder. ‘Talk of the devil,’ he murmured and the smile on his mouth widened.

  Kitty turned and saw Milly coming across the yard towards them carrying a basket covered with a checked cloth.

  As she drew closer, she glanced at Kitty and nodded briefly, but it was to Jack that she aimed her sly smile. ‘I’ve been baking and I thought you’d like a hot scone straight out the oven.’

  ‘Plenty of butter, I hope, young Milly.’

  ‘Lashings of it, Jack. Just the way you like it.’ Provocatively, Milly ran her tongue round her lips.

  Jack reached out and tickled Milly under her chin. ‘Oh you know what I like, don’t you, Milly?’

  The girl bridled coyly but did not pull back. Kitty waited for the shaft of jealousy to strike through her but, to her amazement, it did not come. The only emotion she felt was a strange kind of pity. Pity for Jack that he still could not resist flirting with any girl he met, and for Milly too, as she, like so many before her, began to fall under Threshing Jack’s spell.

  ‘Thanks, our Milly.’ Kitty dropped her rake and moved deliberately forward. ‘I’ve been wanting to see what a famous cook you’re becoming.’

  Milly blinked and said, ‘Oh, I ain’t brought one for you, Kitty. ’Tain’t good for that skinny figure of yourn. Besides,’ she added, as if quickly trying to think up an excuse, ‘Mrs Harding wants to see you.’

  ‘Mrs . . .? Oh, you mean Miss Miriam?’ She kept her gaze steadfastly on her sister and did not even glance at Jack. ‘Me? Why does she want to see me?’

  Milly shrugged. ‘How should I know? She don’t confide in the kitchen staff. She’s here visiting her mother and saw you from the window.’ There was a pause, but Milly made no move to take her there. ‘Well, are you going or not? She’s waiting.’

  ‘I can’t go into the house like this. I’m covered in chaff.’

  Milly shrugged. ‘Please yourself. I’ll tell her I’ve given you the message.’

  ‘Oh, all right then.’

  Kitty leaned the rake against the side of the drum, dusted herself down as best she could and let herself through the gate in the wall leading to the house.

  Moments later, in Mrs Franklin’s sitting room, Miriam was saying, ‘Ah Kitty. I was wondering when I might have a chance to see you.’

  So, thought Kitty shrewdly, she had not asked specifically for her at this moment. That had been Milly’s devious ploy. She wondered why and what lay behind it.

  Miriam was moving towards the chair where her coat lay and feeling in the pockets. ‘I have a letter for you here somewhere. Now where did I put it?’

  ‘A letter, miss? For me?’

  ‘Mm. From Teddy – Master Edward,’ Miriam corrected herself, knowing nothing of the fact that Teddy was the name he insisted Kitty should call him when no one else could hear.

  ‘Ah – here we are. It’s a week old, I’m afraid. I am sorry. I meant to get it to you earlier, but I’ve been so busy, so caught up in plans.’

  She held the folded letter out to Kitty. ‘He sent it in one to me. He didn’t want to cause embarrassment to you by sending it to you direct.’

  Kitty took the single sheet of paper between her fingers. ‘Thank you, miss.’

  ‘If you want to write back, Kitty, and I hope you will for it’s dreadful out there for all our boys, I can send it with my next letter, though after that I don’t expect to be here.’

  Kitty’s eyes widened. ‘Not here, miss? But where are you going? Oh no,’ she breathed, suddenly afraid. ‘Oh no, miss, not back to London. You wouldn’t. . . .?’

  Miriam was shaking her head, her lips pressed together as if to stop them trembling. ‘No, Kitty. I wouldn’t be so foolish as to get caught up in all that again, even though I still have great sympathy for the Cause. Besides . . .’ She moved about the room, touching an ornament, a book lying open on a small table. There was an air of restlessness about her, a tension. Kitty watched her. ‘Besides, the suffragettes are suspending all their activities while the war’s on, you know.’

  ‘No, miss. I di
dn’t know. I – I don’t really follow what’s happening with – with all that.’

  ‘No,’ Miriam glanced at her and then away again. ‘No, I don’t suppose you do.’ There was a pause and then she added, her voice slightly higher pitched, ‘Miss Pankhurst, Miss Sylvia Pankhurst sent me such a kind letter of condolence, you know.’

  ‘Did she, miss?’

  ‘Yes, yes, she did. But it didn’t help. It – it couldn’t bring him back, could it?’

  Quietly, Kitty said, ‘No, miss.’

  Miriam was moving around the room again, her hands clasped in front of her. ‘Kitty, I’ve got to do something. I can’t stay here just playing at being the mistress of the Hall. I’ve volunteered to become a VAD nurse. That’s why I’ve come today. To tell my mother that I’m going to train as a nurse and go out to the Front. Oh Kitty . . .’ She whirled around and now her eyes were shining with some of their old fire. ‘Why don’t you come with me?’ She rushed across the room and grabbed Kitty’s hands in her own. ‘Oh please, Kitty, come with me. Think of all the good we could do, the two of us.’

  ‘I can’t, miss. For some things I wish I could, but I really can’t. I can’t leave him . . .’

  Miriam released Kitty’s hands as if they had stung her. ‘Him?’ Now her voice was almost hysterical. ‘Him? Jack Thorndyke? You won’t leave him?’

  But Kitty was shaking her head and her answer shocked even her as the words left her lips. ‘No, miss. I don’t mean Jack. It’s Johnnie I can’t leave. Little Johnnie.’

  Miriam stared at her for a long moment, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open. Suddenly a fleeting pain showed deep in her eyes and then she swallowed as if there was a great lump in her throat. ‘Of course.’ Her voice was husky. ‘I was forgetting. Of course you can’t leave – your son.’

  Forty-Two

  The letter from Edward was friendly and said nothing that could not be shown to anyone. Nevertheless, Kitty kept its arrival a secret from Jack. And to do so, it was necessary for her to destroy it, for there was no place where he might not, some day, find it.