Family of the Empire

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘Now, I really must dash!’

  She laughed and bestowed a gentle shove. ‘Go then, Corporal Dasher.’

  Assuming this was an accusation he again felt guilty. ‘I meant it about coming back!’

  ‘And I believe you.’ She continued to smile. ‘It was just a nickname – everybody on the island has a nickname.’

  He had heard of this. ‘And what’s yours, Emily?’

  ‘Aunty, even to those who are no relation.’

  He understood why, but chose not to use it, for to him it only emphasized the difference in their ages. ‘I prefer Emily,’ he told her, then, with one last kiss and a wave over his shoulder he dashed off towards the fort, still reeling from the predicaments of life and death that had assailed him this past couple of hours.

  * * *

  Upon serious thought, it occurred to him that Emily had been uncannily intuitive. He was embarrassed at revealing such emotion before her and had it been anyone else he would have wiped them from his memory. But Emily was not so easily extinguished. Dear, warm, passionate Emily had suddenly become the focus of his entire life, lingering in his mind much longer than the image of his father. Even after his grief began to wane and he was no longer in need of comfort his visits did not lessen, for he was now totally besotted with this woman who mothered and pampered and loved him, and he in return finally mended her ravaged verandah and other things about the home. For indeed, he did feel at home with this generous being.

  Aware that he would be in serious trouble if they were found together he made no mention of his trysts to others, least of all to Wedlock who would immediately stamp on such pleasure. To all intents and purposes his evening and weekend jaunts around the valley were just a form of release from this prison-like existence, an escape shared by many others in the fort and so invited no suspicion as long as he was back in time for lights out.

  Throughout the remainder of the year, in sunshine, wind and torrential rain, through the mist that swirled over the flax-covered hills, his boots followed the well-trodden path to her cottage, therein to enjoy another evening of ecstasy, before army commitments wrenched the lovers apart.

  ‘Can you not stay just one night, Dasher?’ she begged him as he made ready to leave yet again. ‘Maybe for Christmas …’ Another festive season would be upon them in a few days. Despite her many siblings Emily cherished the hope that her lover would share the occasion too.

  ‘You know I can’t.’ Smiling apology, he allowed himself to be dragged back into her arms for one last embrace. ‘If I don’t turn up they’ll think I’ve fallen down a ravine and send out a search party. They mustn’t find out about us, Em, or we’re done for.’ And so would be his army career.

  ‘I long to wake and find you still at my side.’ Her fingers performed exquisite torture, to which he immediately succumbed, wrapping himself around her in abandon.

  ‘Just one night,’ she begged.

  Aroused, he fought his better judgement. ‘There might be a way …’ If he could find the right mark, one of his fellow corporals who might cover for his absence, maybe he could spend a night here. ‘If I can get someone to look in on my squad, to explain my empty bed if anyone should ask …’

  This idea was to occupy him for the next couple of days, great thought being paid to which of the corporals he should ask. None of them were entirely trustworthy but one was more approachable than the rest and had been the only one to show commiseration when Probyn had told them his father had died.

  On Christmas Eve, before heading off to see Emily, he braced himself to ask.

  ‘Goody, can I beg a favour?’

  ‘Depends what it is and what it’s worth.’ But Goodwill seemed amiable as he pinned decorations to the wall of the corporals’ mess.

  ‘I’m off to see a friend and might not get back in time for lights out. Can you look in on my lot and explain my absence in the mess if anybody asks? I’ll be back in time for reveille.’

  ‘Woman is it?’

  Probyn hesitated, but when Goodwill did not seem concerned, he nodded. ‘I’d like to keep it between ourselves.’

  Goodwill pressed another drawing pin through a loop of paper chain. ‘Is this where you’ve been going all these months when you’re supposed to be bird-watching?’

  ‘Not all the time,’ lied Probyn. ‘I just thought, seeing as it’s Christmas and all that …’

  Goodwill was thoughtful, then said, ‘A quid should do it.’

  Concealing his disgust, Probyn handed over a sovereign. At this exorbitant rate his nights with Emily would be restricted to once a blue moon.

  However, the look of joy on her beloved face when he informed her he would be staying was worth every penny, and the night that followed was possibly the best of his life. Even the fact that he had to rise before dawn on Christmas Day to be back in time for reveille had its compensations, for he and Emily were to witness the most magnificent sunrise. It was as if God Himself had endorsed their union. With such approval how could any earthly power object? Aching to shout his love to the rest of the island, the errant lance-corporal was wiser than to do so. Sufficing with a whisper to the breeze, he pressed his ardent lips to hers, ran his hands about her body, squeezed her, kneaded and embraced her one last time, then stole a furtive passage back to the garrison.

  * * *

  How could he ever have hoped to conceal his absence from Wedlock? He had barely set foot in the room when his adversary uttered comment.

  ‘Noticed your bed hasn’t been slept in.’

  Though shocked, Probyn barely faltered and launched into his breakfast. ‘I was up early.’

  ‘Ballocks!’ A wet morsel of bread was projected from Wedlock’s lips along with the nasty laugh. ‘You’ve been out all night – I hope you haven’t been shagging the niggers.’

  Probyn felt as if he had been stabbed. A quick look at Goodwill provided a discreet shake of head. It had just been a lucky guess but the sordid comment had totally demolished any magic. He was appalled to have Emily referred to like this. ‘Don’t talk rot!’ he told Wedlock.

  ‘Only joking,’ said Wedlock blithely, continuing with his meal. ‘A man’d have to be puggled to risk getting himself reduced for a bibbi.’

  It was a definite threat. Warning himself to be more careful, Probyn took his frustration out on a lump of bread, tearing into it with his teeth, and deciding there and then that he must not see Emily for a while until the gossip had died down.

  * * *

  It had been done for her benefit as much as his but the moment he set eyes on her he chastised himself for not putting himself in her stead, for not realizing what must have been going through her mind.

  ‘I thought you had deserted me!’ Emily was distraught, the tears streaming down her cheeks as he tried to explain. ‘A week! A whole week, Dasher, and not a word. What was I supposed to think?’

  ‘Oh, Em, dear Em, I was just trying to protect you!’ He pressed her streaming face to his shoulder, rocking her in the same manner that she had comforted him. ‘There’s been talk, nothing specific but Wedlock keeps making these sarky comments, I think he suspects and I didn’t want to give him any proof so I thought if I kept away—’

  ‘I felt that my heart was torn out!’ wept Emily.

  ‘I know, I know, I missed you dreadfully too!’ He crushed her even more tightly. ‘I couldn’t bear to keep away any longer, but truly we must be careful, I mustn’t stay long.’ And with this he launched an impulsive, passionate assault upon her body, the two of them lost to all reason, all words of caution evaporating in the heat of desire.

  * * *

  On return to barracks Probyn slipped into the corporals’ mess and, trying to appear nonchalant, calmly took up his embroidery.

  ‘Been to see Topsy again?’ Goodwill barely looked up from his knitting. ‘Don’t call her that!’ God but it was sickening, having one’s fellows know one inside out, or claim that they did, having one’s life constantly held up for inspection. His annoy
ed reaction had jerked the thread out of the needle; trying to reinsert it, he asked, ‘Where’s Wedlock?’

  ‘Dunno.’ Finishing another row, Goodwill turned his knitting around and began to purl.

  Needle threaded, Probyn stabbed it through the pieces of cloth, all the while thinking of Emily.

  Wedlock entered then. There was no untoward remark, in fact no comment of any kind, but Probyn had the distinct feeling that he was enjoying some private joke, and after several irritating seconds was compelled to ask, ‘What’s up with you?’

  Wedlock glanced at him in surprise. ‘Nowt. In fact I’m very happy. I’ve just had orders that we’re leaving at the end of the month.’

  Probyn’s heart lurched. How long had he yearned to be off this wretched island and now just when he had every reason to want to stay they were ordering him to leave!

  He must go see Emily, right away. He had left her earlier than usual, there would just be time for him to return and pass on the information and get back to barracks before dark.

  Inserting his needle into cloth, he rose and wandered leisurely to the door. ‘There’s still a bit of sunlight left, I think I’ll just go and enjoy it while I can.’

  Wedlock nodded, then buried his face in a book. ‘Aye, best make the most of it.’

  Probyn maintained his casual attitude until he was out of the garrison, then broke into an urgent trot, making for Emily’s cottage.

  At first she was surprised and delighted to see him again, but upon examining his worried face she in turn became anxious, especially when he told her what brought him back.

  ‘I’ve just heard we’re to leave the island!’

  She moaned and almost fainted.

  ‘Don’t worry, everything’s going to be all right.’ On his way here he had come to a decision; there was only one way that the lovers could be assured a future. ‘I’ve come to ask you to marry me!’

  She was disbelieving, but plumbing his gaze saw that he was deadly serious, and cried out, ‘Yes, yes, my dearest!’

  He gasped a laugh at his own audacity. ‘I’m supposed to ask permission, but there’s no point, they won’t grant it.’

  ‘But why not, are we both not British?’

  ‘Yes, but…’ He could not bring himself to tell this lovely woman that the colour of her skin was the handicap. ‘People have been turned down before for no good reason, I daren’t risk losing you. Once we’re wed they can’t do anything about it. I’ll apply to have you put on the strength and then I’ll be able to take you with me wherever I go.’ He hoped fervently that this would be the case, and that he was not about to jeopardize his career. But he had risked it all before and won. He was a good soldier, they would not want to lose him for such a mean-spirited rule.

  Emily was overjoyed and threw herself into his arms. The short time they had together was spent making hectic plans for their clandestine marriage, for both agreed that it must take place as quickly as possible. They arranged to meet at her own little chapel the following Sunday after Church Parade, Probyn saying he would have to get a licence and a ring, Emily replying that she would speak to the minister and organize all that had to be organized, it would be easier for her, everything would be ready and waiting for them, her beloved must put his mind at rest.

  Deeming it too risky to meet her in the interim, Probyn vowed that there would be endless nights of love after their marriage and, dealing her a long lingering kiss, rushed back to barracks.

  He did not notice in his excited dash that he had been followed.

  * * *

  Naturally the week crawled by. Even with all the preparations to be made for the coming embarkation he was still left with too much time to think of Emily and how much he missed her. He wondered if she would like Mauritius, for that was where his company would be heading. It had been a shock at the time, but upon hearing the additional good news that Wedlock would be alighting at the Cape to rejoin the rest of the battalion it was turning out to be cause for celebration.

  Sunday came at last. Everything went as usual; the mad rush to turn his men out in review order for Church Parade, then back for dinner. In the afternoon, tingling with nerves and arrayed in his scarlet regalia, Lance-Corporal Kilmaster prepared for his nuptials, checking over and over again that both ring and licence were safe. It was sad that none of his family would be present to witness his happiness, but then everything paled into insignificance when compared to spending the rest of his life with Emily. A moment of heart-warming reverie, a last check of his appearance, a deep breath, and he set off.

  ‘Going somewhere nice?’ asked Wedlock as they passed in the sunshine.

  ‘Just out for a stroll.’ Probyn did not falter.

  ‘Sure about that?’ Wedlock called after him, a note of warning in his voice.

  Probyn stopped and turned, held the other with glittering eyes, defying Wedlock to try and stop him. ‘Quite sure.’

  Wedlock set his mouth, and turned aside, leaving Probyn to go on his way.

  He thought as he journeyed through the tranquil countryside to the chapel what a quiet affair it would be. Emily had wanted to share the news with her family and have them present; she had been quite devastated when he had warned her they must tell no one and was only pacified when he swore they could reveal it to the world once the deed was irretractable. The very fact that they required two witnesses had proved unnerving, but as one of them was the policeman with whom he had become very friendly, the other an upstanding, but romantically minded official, he was not unduly worried about the army getting to hear of it prematurely.

  He arrived at the little stone chapel. There would be no more services until eventide, the building was quiet and empty except for those few attending the wedding. Probyn’s boots echoed dangerously loud as he hurried to Emily’s side, beaming in self-consciousness and love. Oh, how he wanted it all to be over and done with so that he could spirit her away to the little white cabin and make love to her.

  The shuffling and clearing of throats petering into silence, the ceremony began, the words booming around the empty church. ‘Dearly beloved …’

  When it came to his turn to make his vows he spoke up calm and clear, Emily’s vows coming as little more than a whisper but her eyes laden with so much love that there could be no mistaking the sincerity of it.

  The ceremony was almost over, the minister about to declare them husband and wife, when the door opened and more footsteps echoed down the aisle.

  A look of gravity came over the minister’s face. Probyn froze, and then turned to meet the new arrival, knowing even before he set eyes on it who this would be.

  ‘I must advise you, sir, to stop this mockery at once,’ Corporal Wedlock told the minister.

  ‘It is too late!’ replied the bewildered man. ‘The vows have already been sworn.’

  Wedlock was unmoved, though his breathing was quite rapid after hurrying to catch up with his quarry whom he had followed at a distance. ‘That is impossible, sir, it has no legal basis—’

  ‘But Corporal Kilmaster has acquired a licence.’

  ‘The British Army would never countenance such a partnership! Lance-Corporal Kilmaster is well aware that he is in breach of regulations even to be in this woman’s presence.’

  ‘This woman is my wife!’ Probyn’s eyes were shot with passion as he gripped Emily’s arm.

  Wedlock did not flinch. ‘Then I have no alternative but to report this matter to the commanding officer. Unless you agree to accompany me voluntarily I shall fetch the guard and have you put under arrest!’

  Emily clung to her husband. ‘Dasher, can you really be arrested? Is it true, is it so?’ Her question was flung wildly at the policeman witness who shrugged unhelpfully, saying this was a military matter of which he had no knowledge.

  ‘He’s bluffing!’ said Probyn, but his self-assurance was draining fast. In the face of such opposition it was coming home to him now just how futile this attempt at marriage had been.

  ‘Wo
uld you care to put me to the test?’ The vicious little bantam thrust his nose closer to that of his victim. ‘Somebody has to save you from yourself, Kilmaster. You’re not a bad soldier, all things considered, that’s why I’ve given you ample opportunity to admit the error of your ways. But you’ve chosen to ignore all attempts to help you and this is your last chance. If you leave this church now and come with me I’ll say nothing, I’ll even allow you to keep your stripe, but if you choose to go ahead with your stupid plan and bring the regiment into disrepute I’ll have no qualm in having you court martialled.’

  Probyn rallied, drew Emily into his side and clutched her tightly. ‘The captain wouldn’t be so petty!’

  Wedlock spat contempt. ‘You call it petty to debase this fine regiment’s reputation by marrying the likes of her?’

  ‘I just want to marry the woman I love!’ raged Probyn.

  ‘You’ll marry who the army says you can marry! Now, this is your last chance. Come back to barracks now or I’ll fetch the guard!’

  ‘Dasher, my dearest!’ Thinking that he was about to strike his adversary, Emily grabbed his arm and held onto it. ‘Go with him, do!’

  Tearing his furious eyes away from Wedlock, Probyn stared into her anguished face.

  ‘I can’t see you ruined,’ the crack in her voice showed that her heart was breaking but she managed to retain her dignity, did not weep and rail but uttered calmly, ‘Go with him, we are man and wife, we can—’

  ‘You are not man and wife!’ contradicted Wedlock. ‘This wedding is invalid.’

  Emily ignored him, speaking only to the man she called her husband, behaving with great composure. ‘When the time is right we will be together. No matter where you are in the world I will find you and come to you.’

  Burdened with responsibility both to his wife and to the regiment, Probyn clamped his hands to the sides of his head, moaning in despair.

  Seeing that he was winning, Wedlock addressed himself to the minister and to the witnesses. ‘None of this must be recorded—’