When it finished, he said, ‘That was so beautiful.’
Then, after a pause, ‘Do you know the book, The Wind in the Willows?’
It was the third book he had brought with him from home.
‘I’ve heard of it,’ she said. ‘But I’ve never read it.’
‘I’ll loan it to you,’ he said. ‘I have it back at Mrs Middleton’s. In theory it’s a children’s book, but I’m not so sure. A lot of it happens on a river. You should read it while listening to that.’
‘Well if you wouldn’t mind loaning it to me.’
‘I’ll bring it tomorrow,’ he said.
Then suddenly realising that he might have sounded too presumptuous, Lewis added, ‘Or whenever I see you again.’
‘Tomorrow will be fine,’ she smiled.
‘And you’re sure there aren’t other things you need to be doing? Places to go? People to see? I feel like I must be taking up all of your time.’
She looked at him.
‘Lewis, I’ve been alone for a lot of my life. If you don’t mind spending time with an old woman, then you’re welcome to be here as much as you like.’
It was the same thing she had said the previous night. He repeated what he had said then, that she wasn’t old.
‘No,’ she said, in a strange, distant, thoughtful sort of way. ‘No, I suppose I’m not.’
20
The twins were called Victoria and Sophie. They were both blonde, lived just around the corner from Lewis, who was then aged sixteen, and he thought they were the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. They were not identical. He had worked that out even from a distance – he had never seen them close up. They had to pass his house on their way to school and sometimes, if he dawdled in the morning, he would see them pass at about ten to nine. They didn’t seem to be very punctual though – or to have a routine. Occasionally they were earlier. More often they hadn’t appeared before he had to leave.
But on the days when they did appear, he would immediately grab his satchel and run out the door as quickly as he could with hurried goodbyes to Margaret the housekeeper, and Dad, if he was there. His route followed the twins’ for about five minutes before they turned off for the girls’ grammar school. From behind, on summer days, their hair was radiant in the sunlight.
He didn’t know which was which, but one of them had a thinner face than the other. For some reason which he couldn’t remember, he came to the conclusion that the thinner faced one was Sophie and the other one Victoria. He decided that he preferred Victoria. On Sundays they always went to church with their mother. When Mum was alive, she, Lewis and Dad had gone to church regularly, but after she died the practice had lapsed. So Lewis told Dad he would like to start going again. Lewis thought Dad looked momentarily alarmed – Sunday was the one day in the week when he slept in. But Lewis explained that he was happy to go by himself and said something about ‘pray for Mum’ and ‘those fighting in the War’ and Dad seemed happy enough with that.
So Lewis would go to church and try to sit near them, ideally in the row behind. From there he could glory in their hair, particularly when sunlight came though the stained glass windows and irradiated them. Or he could wonder what they were whispering about which they did from time to time until a disapproving gaze from their large and stern mother caused them to stop. Or he could try to kneel forward while they were still sitting, enabling him to get so close that he could smell their fragrance.
There was always only ever the three of them and so Lewis came to realise that there was no father in the family. He assumed that the father was dead. So – they had something in common.
He spent endless hours thinking about them. He reckoned they were his age and there was that thing that girls were more grown up than boys of the same age. But that didn’t bother him. He was one of the smarter people in his class so he didn’t think that that would be a problem. There were some days, he had established, when they always came home later than him from school and he always tried to be in the sitting room or in the front garden on those days. They always passed on the far side of the street and if they did happen to glance over it was without interest in Lewis or what he was doing.
They had a friend who had dark hair, who was often with them. She was also beautiful but it was the twins that Lewis had fallen in love with – Victoria especially, but either one would do. He imagined himself as their friend, going places with the three of them. He would be Victoria’s boyfriend but he would be friends with all of them. They could talk about not having a parent and what it had meant to them growing up. He saw himself holding Victoria’s hand as they walked along the street. He imagined the sensation of kissing her, and the scent of her blonde hair as he did. At night – this was the period when he was praying to be cured of his shyness – he also prayed that some event would happen that would make all this come about. They had this huge hole in their lives, this missing parent. Surely God owed it to him to bring them together. Or maybe that was too strong. Maybe you couldn’t say that to God, but surely He could see the sense of it – how perfect it would be. Maybe that was the reason why they found themselves living near each other – because they were going to be together.
During the summers there were dances in the local church hall. The money raised was used to send gift boxes to the troops. In the summer of 1915, Lewis went to his first one. He wore his best trousers, a new white shirt and a tie that he bought specially for the occasion from hoarded pocket money. The dance was due to start at eight. He was going with James, his friend from school who lived further along Horn Lane. Dad wished him good luck as he went out the door.
The evening was still warm after the heat of the day. The sky was blue and the streets were green and leafy and shaded. He rendezvoused with James as they had arranged and they walked together in the direction of the church hall. They were both apprehensive and tried to disguise it with chatter. Part of Lewis wished he was back in his room or out in the garden reading. As they approached the church hall they could hear music and see young people arriving there like swallows onto telegraph wires in autumn.
Inside, the stage had been decorated with balloons and strings of small union flags. A three piece band – piano, violin and cello – played light classical pieces, songs from operettas and popular songs. There were a few couples on the floor but mostly the girls were sitting on benches around the edge of the hall and the boys were clustered together in groups.
Once he got there Lewis wished that James hadn’t come. He felt embarrassed with him there and if a girl was going to refuse him he didn’t want James to witness it. Also, he got no sense from James that he would ask any girl to dance and was happy just to mooch along with Lewis and let him make the first move. They were like a hunter and his faithful dog, Lewis thought. They wandered around the edges of the hall where the girls all sat on benches. There was no sign of the twins and Lewis’ heart dropped at the thought that that they might not be coming.
The hall filled up quickly and the dance floor became more crowded. Lewis and James bumped into Albert, a classmate of theirs.
‘Oh, hello lads. Haven’t seen you here before.’
‘This is our first time,’ said Lewis.
‘Well have a good night,’ said Albert, and – as he dived into the crowd – ‘good hunting.’
Lewis suggested to James that they split up and James agreed. He was a person who seemed happy to agree to most anything and while Lewis was happy with this most of the time – because it made Lewis the leader – sometimes, like now, he found it intensely irritating. After James had wandered off, Lewis made another concentrated effort to see if the twins were there. He wondered about dancing with some other girl just to get some practice in actually asking somebody to dance. But he decided against it. It would be the twins or nobody. Then suddenly, in the crowd ahead, he saw Victoria. She was wearing a summery blouse with short sleeves and a long skirt. She stood a few people back from the edge of the crowd that was watching t
he couples who were dancing. She appeared to be by herself – there was no sign of Sophie or their friend with the dark hair. This was wonderful – it made it so much easier to approach her.
The little ensemble was playing a fast number and Lewis was going to wait until they played a waltz. But he realised that she might not be alone for that long so he took a deep breath and threaded his way through the crowd towards her. He hoped she might sense him coming and turn her head towards him and that he might see a flash of recognition on her face. But she seemed unaware of his presence until he arrived beside her and tapped her on the shoulder. His touch on the white fabric of her blouse and the feeling of skin underneath was like an electric shock that ran from his fingertips. He smelt freshly shampooed hair. She turned to him and above the sound of the orchestra, he said, ‘Would you like to dance?’
If she recognised him she made no sign. Her lips were very pink, her eyes blue and her skin smooth. Her face was every bit as beautiful as it had seemed from a distance. He thought it was a kind and loving face. She didn’t smile, but said yes. He wondered whether he should lead her onto the floor or whether it was ladies first, and while he was hesitating, and without looking at him, she led the way. He smelt her perfume as he followed in her wake.
As they reached the edge of the floor she turned to face him. He extended his arms, putting an arm around her waist and taking her hand in his. He felt her waist beneath the material of her dress and he thought that he had never felt anything more thrilling in his life. They began to move away from where they had started. She was still not smiling and was looking away from him.
‘Have you been to these dances before?’ he asked.
She looked at him as though seeing him for the first time. She hadn’t heard what he said, either because it was too noisy or her mind was someplace else. He repeated the question. She smiled faintly and shook her head. He wondered what to say to her next. He was going to ask her if she knew that they lived nearby to one another but it seemed like a silly thing to say. Then he was going to say that the orchestra was good but he suspected that all she would do would be to smile again. He thought he should tell her his name but what if she then didn’t tell him hers? He thought to ask whether her sister was here as well and then he hoped that that could lead into a discussion about twins. But he didn’t want it to appear like he was interested in her sister rather than her. And the volume of the musicians seemed to prohibit any kind of conversation anyway, although when he looked around he could see that some other couples were chatting easily. All the time they moved around the floor.
While all of this was going on in his head, she was looking over his shoulder. Their eyes met once and she smiled at him. It was a smile that would have been described in books as a sweet smile. But he thought it was the smile of somebody trapped in a place that they didn’t want to be; a make-the-most-of-a-bad-lot smile. They had only been on the floor for no more than a minute or two. Suddenly the music came to and end. She took her hand from his and extricated her body from his other hand.
‘Thank you,’ she said blankly and walked off the floor.
He followed her and saw her disappear into the press of bodies. Albert’s face floated up in front of him.
‘You did well there,’ he said.
Lewis smiled weakly and nodded. He wasn’t sure if Albert was being sarcastic.
‘Good man,’ said Albert, slapping him on the shoulder before wandering off again.
Lewis drifted around a little more. The twins were together again and the girl with the dark hair was with them now. The three of them were talking very seriously about something. He turned away and went and got a lemonade – he had been hoping to have been buying the lemonade for Victoria. It was very hot and stuffy by now and he was sweating. He downed the lemonade in one gulp and then went and watched the dancers. He was hoping to see the twins again, to see what sort of boys they were with, but there was no sign of them. James appeared and Lewis asked him how he got on. ‘Fine’ was James’s laconic reply and Lewis reckoned he hadn’t danced with anyone. He wasn’t sure that James was interested in girls at all. If Lewis came to another dance here he would come on his own.
Neither of them danced again and they left just before ten. There was a gaggle of people around the door of the church hall. One or two couples could be seen walking hand in hand down the short tree-lined drive to the gates, their silhouettes black against the street lights beyond the trees. There was a tree with a large trunk only a few steps from the church hall door and there was a small gap between it and the tall hedge that encircled the church hall and its grounds. Lewis saw a couple in the shadows and when they moved into the light of the street lamps, Lewis saw the veil of blonde hair and realised that it was Victoria. A boy was holding her and they were locked in a kiss.
‘They’re having fun,’ said James cheerily.
Lewis said nothing and they walked home in silence. He was glad when James said good night and he was able to make the remainder of the journey on his own. To his annoyance, Dad was up when Lewis got in and he had to talk to him for a few minutes. But then pleading tiredness, Lewis headed upstairs to his room.
He lay for a long time in the darkness. ‘All the illusions gone.’ The phrase kept repeating itself in his head. He had pictured himself and Victoria together. He had seen himself with her and her sister and their friend. He had seen himself as the boy in their lives – friendly with all of them, in love with Victoria. All of that was gone now.
He wondered where he went from here. There had been no other girl there tonight that he felt the remotest attraction to. And he couldn’t go back now to Sophie or to the girl with the dark hair. What was wrong with him? He knew that Albert had already had several girlfriends. And lots of other fellows that he knew were the same – you’d see them around town any Saturday. Why was he different?
Was it his looks? He had looked in the mirror that night and yes, he wasn’t as handsome as some of the boys, but he wasn’t ugly. Why couldn’t Mum have helped him? She had left him. She had run out on him. He had gotten over that now but why couldn’t she help him? Surely she owed him that much. Surely she owed him something. That was all he asked – a bit of luck where girls were concerned. A bit of love and kissing and female company with all their softness and fragrance.
But of course Mum was gone. There was no point in asking her. He existed and so she must have, but he felt no link to her. How was that possible? She had borne him inside her body – could there be any greater closeness? And yet now she smiled out from photographs and was … just a person in photographs.
21
Lewis emerged from the dugout into the darkness of the trench. A cold crab of fear clung to his heart. He was sweating despite the intense cold. He would die tonight. He was convinced of it. The mocking logic of it. Born on his birthday, died on Helen’s. He couldn’t get the idea out of his head. The crab’s claws gripped and scored and sliced his heart. He felt faint and stopped, resting his arm against a piece of angle iron that held revetting in place.
He still remembered his first trench raid – and Sergeant Bennis, his first sergeant. Long dead now, cut in two by a machine gun at Arras. He was still the most foul-mouthed man Lewis had ever met and no respecter of rank. They had emerged from a similar briefing before Lewis was due to go on his first trench raid and Bennis had said, ‘Are you afraid, sir?’
It was an outrageous question for a sergeant to ask his senior officer. It was also obviously some kind of test and Lewis didn’t know how to answer.
‘No, sergeant. Well, yes. Nervous, you know. Butterflies and all that.’
Bennis’s eyes drilled into him.
‘You’re not half afraid enough, sir’ he said, the last word spoken as though it wasn’t deserved.
And there had been that moment after it was all over when Bennis had said, ‘You did well, sir.’
Lewis thought it was the first time Bennis had called him ‘sir’ and actually meant it.
&
nbsp; But now Lewis was scared enough. He took a deep breath to try to calm himself. And another and another. A soldier went past in the other direction carrying an oval dixie from which a greasy smell of food issued. Lewis thought the soldier might have glanced at him – it was hard to tell in the darkness – but if he did, he said nothing. Lewis knew he couldn’t stay here. Get back to the dugout. Write to Helen or read her last letter. That would help. He needed to shake off this feeling of doom. Maybe there would be a new letter from her – it might come up with the food.
It was nearly eight by the time he got back to the dugout; it had taken him a lot longer to get back without Byrne to guide him. He pulled aside the gas curtain and stepped in out of the dank iciness of the night into the relative warmth of the dugout. The place was in inky blackness so with hands extended and one foot leading, he inched forward gingerly until his thigh met the table. He groped for the candle in the bottle, found it and lit it with the lighter from his greatcoat pocket. A ball of cosy yellow light expanded above the table where socks hung from an improvised washing line slung across the dugout.
‘Alright, girls?’ Lewis said to the photograph of the two girls left by the previous German occupants. It was pinned to a supporting pillar of the dugout just beside the table. Lewis called them Victoria and Sophie. The two girls looked to be the same age as the real Victoria and Sophia would have been now. But there the similarity ended. The picture was taken with the two girls standing in profile and almost naked. Victoria – that was she on the left – wore cavalry boots while the other wore ankle length boots and stockings held up by garters. They stood facing each other, leaning forward at the waist so that, between them, they formed a sort of ‘A’. Victoria had her hands over her head with her fingertips on top of her head. She was pouting. Sophie was leaning forward and was in the process of kissing Victoria’s pout with one of her own. Talking to them eased Lewis’ terrible fear a little.
Starlight (The Four Lights Quartet Book 1) Page 11