Remembrance Day

by Leah Fleming

  Funny how he didn’t know which day of the week it was or what was happening in the outside world. The snow had thawed and the sky was blue. He could see snowdrops out on the one part of the lawn that wasn’t dug up, purple crocuses feeling their way under the trees. It was almost spring. How time was flying by. Even his befuddled brain knew he’d been home for months but was no stronger for it. Sometimes it was hard to recall even who he was.

  Perhaps it was the long-term effects of the gas but something nagged at him. He’d been doing so well but it was time to call in Dr Mackenzie again. His breathing was better, and his throat; only his legs were all wobbly with lack of use. He must make an effort to exercise them or they wouldn’t obey him at all.

  God forgive me for what I am doing, prayed Hester, on her knees in the empty church. But what else could she do? Where did she turn now? Burning in her pocket was a letter from Angus at long last. With what relief she had seen his scrawly handwriting on the envelope, and then with what horror had she read its contents.

  Dear Mother,

  All has gone to plan, in fact better than I first thought. I turned up at the board and went through the usual checks, which thankfully I’m very familiar with from times past. Passed fit with flying colours. In fact, they remarked on how well I’d recovered from the gas. But they decided, in their wisdom, to send me for some special retraining—near Selby, would you believe—a hush-hush training camp for special trench warfare manoeuvres. The officers here are a ripping lot. I find myself back at school with a load of chaps going through the basics, mostly wounded; such a jolly bunch, no problems. Yes, I am fine and enjoying myself so much. I’m going to stick around until the next leave comes up.

  I hope Guy forgives me but I deserve a crack at the target, a chance to be another ‘Give ’em hell’ Cantrell. Don’t be angry. Guy can have more time with you. I want to make you both proud of me. It really is for the best, you know. I’m learning so much here. I have all Guy’s old letters and photos to study so if they send me overseas I know who is who in his company. But the chances are that I’ll be deployed to another company altogether, in a place where no one will know which Cantrell they’re getting. So don’t worry, after weeks of practice I can do Guy’s signature like my own. If I don’t recognise anyone I’ll just say it was the shell shock and my memory is a bit wobbly.

  Don’t be cross with me for doing this off my own bat. I guessed you might change your mind and forbid it but what’s done is done now.

  Your loving son,

  G. A. C. Cantrell.

  P.S. You should have given us different initials!

  So he wasn’t coming back. He was taking his chance and he was in dire trouble if found out. You stupid, stupid boy, she cried, don’t you realise what we’ve done and now I am drugging my own son to keep him from knowing the truth, taking risks with his health all for the good of the Cantrell name. Your father would be appalled, after all we have endured, that it has come to this.

  ‘Is everything all right, Lady Hester?’ whispered the timid voice of Violet Hunt, the vicar’s wife. She had come to strip the altar cloth before Lent began. ‘Did I disturb you?’

  ‘No, I’m just leaving. I just wanted a little time…’ She rose up from her knees, feeling foolish. Violet meant well but she was always prying.

  ‘I have disturbed you, I’m sorry. Is Guy recovered and safe?’

  ‘Yes, he is safe, he’s gone back, but Gus hasn’t been himself lately—you know how it is?’

  ‘Perhaps it’ll all be over this year. It has been so long and everyone is weary for peace. There are so many empty pews,’ Violet sighed, looking around her.

  Hester couldn’t wait to escape from those grey anxious eyes. If you only knew what I’d done, she thought, you wouldn’t be so sympathetic. I am a monster but I am the mother of sons and I am doing it for the best and now it’s all going wrong—so very wrong.

  There was one thing she could put right, though. Better to tell the truth and be damned than to keep on deceiving Guy, tricking him. But she was afraid of the look in his eye if she told him about Angus. Better to let things be for the moment. When the time was right she would confess all and put herself at his mercy. While there was still a chance that Angus might return, better to keep quiet.

  ‘Master Angus, it’s Dr Mac to see you…He said that you’d sent a note and the mistress is out; shall I be letting him up to your room?’

  Why was Mrs Beck calling him Angus? He was so befuddled, forgetting in one of his better moments he’d sent a note to Mill House for the doctor to call. He wanted to check that his absence from the medical board had been covered.

  ‘Send him up,’ he said, trying to straighten himself as well as his head. He smelled unwashed, wearing Angus’s striped pyjamas, for some reason, and in his bedroom too. How had he got there? He couldn’t recall any of it. It didn’t make sense.

  ‘Now then, young man, you look a bit worse for wear. No more turns?’

  Turns? What was he talking about?

  ‘I’m not getting any stronger…I feel so weak and wobbly.’

  ‘You must have taken too much sedation. I told Lady Hester to go easy on the bottle. Have you been drinking?’ Out came the instruments from his bag.

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing, but I’m not on any medication. Can you sound out my chest?’

  ‘Certainly, but it’s always been your strong point.’ He put the stethoscope on Guy’s chest and then lifted it up and looked at him. ‘Have you had a cold? It’s a bit rattly. Did Captain Guy get off before the snow?’ he asked.

  ‘Angus went off to London. We’ve not seen sight nor sound of him since.’

  The doctor was looking at him strangely. ‘We are off today, aren’t we? I think I’d better have a word with your mother. She must let me sort out the right dosage in future.’

  ‘You did inform them about my medical board examination?’ Guy asked. ‘The one I didn’t make because of all this.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m not with you, old chap. What medical?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Dr Mackenzie. I’ve been on extended leave for months. This can’t go on, but these fuzzy heads of mine…’

  ‘Look, Angus, you’re not making sense!’

  ‘And you’re not making any sense either. This is Guy Cantrell you’re speaking to, not Angus. I sent for you to check me over.’

  ‘I see.’ The doctor got up from the bed and looked around him. ‘I did get a note from Guy, but the captain left weeks ago. And this is Angus’s room—are you playing games with me? You are a wee bit old for pranks and I’m a busy man.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, I’m Guy, not Angus. Can’t you tell, man?’

  ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ said the doctor, leaning over him and yanking up his blond forelock to reveal his forehead.

  ‘Blood and sand, you’re right! There’s no scar! I’m sorry, Captain Cantrell, I don’t understand. We all thought—’

  ‘Never mind what you thought,’ Guy interrupted him, ‘what the bloody hell is going on? Can someone please explain?’

  ‘I’m awfully sorry, I haven’t a clue, but I’m sure your mother will have an answer. The sooner you’re up and moving about, the better, in my opinion. Back to the open window for you and some fresh air. We’ll get you back on your feet in no time. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were in drink but your breath doesn’t smell.’ He was shining his torch into Guy’s eyes. ‘So that’s it! You have a habit?’

  ‘What habit?’

  ‘Oh, don’t come the innocent with me. Lots of lads have recourse to it to steady their nerves; no one wants a windy officer,’ said the doctor. ‘I don’t blame you, but you can get addicted to the stuff. Starts off with a wee tincture or two and then the effect wears off, so it’s a little bit more. You shouldn’t be doing it, not with your condition. It can affect the heart.’

  ‘Talk sense, man!’ Guy could feel his head busting with frustration.

  ‘Your pupils are distende
d. You’ve been taking laudanum or some other potion; all the signs are there.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, I’ve never resorted to such drugs in my life.’

  ‘Don’t deny it, laddie. There’s no shame in it after what you’ve been through. Stronger men than you have cracked under the strain. We all need our crutches. Mine happens to be a bottle of good malt whisky.’ The doctor smiled, patting his arm indulgently as if he were a naughty child. ‘Better to be out in the open about it and then we can help you through it. No use trying to cover it up.’

  Guy was furious.‘I don’t know where you got this notion, but I’ve been bedridden for weeks. This is outrageous.’

  ‘I’m sorry you can’t see it my way, but you’re on a path to destruction if you carry on this caper. No wonder you can’t walk in a straight line. You have to face your fears, not hide from them in a bottle. I took you to be a hero, Guy, not a coward,’ said the doctor, peering over his spectacles at him.

  ‘Get out of here! I won’t have you making such accusations. Get out!’

  ‘I’m going, laddie, but you know where I am if you need me. There’s no shame in asking for help. Admission is the first step to recovery. Chew on that if you can. I’ll not be troubling you further.’

  Guy sank back exhausted. What on earth was going on? And why did they all think that he had left? Why had Dr Mac thought he was Angus, and what was his mother’s part in all this? A sudden sickening dread filled his stomach and he rushed to retch into the chamber pot. It was a chilling thought, which wouldn’t go away.

  Hester heard Guy struggling down the stairs, the noise of his cursing having woken her from her dozing in the drawing room. ‘Come and sit by the fire,’ she ordered, but he was staring at her with eyes aflame.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ he demanded.

  She looked up, surprised. ‘Guy?’

  ‘Or should you be calling me, Angus, like Mrs Beck does every time I see her, or like Dr Mac did when he called in this afternoon?’

  ‘You called in Mackenzie?’

  ‘Tell me what’s going on. What have you done to me over these past weeks? What have you popped in my nightcap?’

  She was stunned by his outburst.

  ‘Don’t deny it.’

  Hester remained silent, not knowing what to say. ‘I just wanted you to sleep well,’ she offered eventually.

  ‘You wanted me out of the way. Where is Angus?’

  ‘In London, as I said,’ she replied, feeling her heart thumping.

  ‘Then, fetch me my uniform. I’m leaving!’ Guy replied.

  ‘No, darling, not yet. You’re not well enough.’

  ‘Stop mollycoddling me! Where is my bloody uniform? It’s not in my room. For goodness’ sake, Mother, tell me the truth!’

  ‘Shush, someone will hear!’

  ‘I don’t care if the whole wide world hears what’s been going on.’

  Hester felt her legs trembling with fear as she began to speak. ‘Now, you had better stay calm. No point in getting worked up,’ she said, rising slowly to go to the writing bureau, handing him Angus’s letters with shaking hands. ‘Angus thought he was helping, so don’t judge him too harshly.’

  Guy read the contents, and his face hardened like granite, his eyes like steel. His breathing came in rasps. ‘He’s taken my place, by God! Impersonating an officer—has he no sense? It’s a capital offence…he must be out of his mind to play such a trick. I must get back and see if I can limit the damage—’

  She interrupted him in full flow. ‘You can’t. He’s being transferred to France. He passed his training. He’ll be out there within days. It’s too late.’ She handed him another letter. Guy read it and threw it across the room. The look he gave her chilled her to the very core.

  ‘And as for you, how could you collude in this? How could you let him do this? I don’t know what to say…My own mother giving me doping medicine. Knowing full well…Now Dr Mac thinks I have an addiction!’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She couldn’t look at him.

  ‘Sorry is not enough. Do you know what you’ve done? Do you know what you might have set in motion? If Angus has a bad turn, if he fails his men…you will be responsible for the deaths of scores of brave soldiers under his command.’

  ‘You must understand, I didn’t go along with it. I went to tell him to give me the uniform back but he’d already gone. He so desperately wants to prove himself. He’s your twin—he wants to be like you in every way.’

  ‘Lord give me strength! We have separate lives to live. He is not me, nor I him. You must have encouraged him in some way. I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done…never!’ He stormed out of the drawing room.

  Hester ran after him. ‘If you have an ounce of family honour, please don’t give him away now. Don’t disgrace your father’s name. What he did was wrong and what I’ve done to you was too, but you are my sons. I would never do anything to hurt my boys. You’re my life’s work, my world, don’t give him away.’ Hester was pleading with him, holding her hands out in supplication, but he turned his back on her.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ he shouted, shaking with rage. ‘How can your love be so sick and manipulating as to control and trap me into colluding with your schemes? I don’t know what to say to you. You’re not the mother I knew or respected. What in hell did you hope to gain from letting him take my place?’

  ‘He promised it was just for a week or two to give you time to recover fully,’ she pleaded, hoping he would understand. ‘We thought—’

  ‘We thought…we thought. What about me? Don’t you think I had a right to my own life? Do you think I like being stuck here, an invalid, cosseted in this cocoon until I thought I was going mad? I’m going to tell Selma all about this.’ He made for the front door.

  ‘You can’t, Guy. If you do, you will kill your brother. He took his leave of her weeks ago. It was all very formal, and there’s been no contact since. I did it for the best.’ She saw the look of pure hatred flashing over his face.

  ‘You selfish old woman! You let him go to her; I can only imagine what was said. You disgust me. Get out of my sight!’

  ‘My son, my darling, I did it for the best. A mother has an instinct for these things.’

  ‘Go away. Leave me alone and don’t even attempt to give me food or drink again. From this moment on I will feed myself.’

  Hester turned back. The room was a blur, her tears blinding her.

  What on earth have I done?

  Guy paced around the walled garden, trying to collect his jumbled thoughts. He felt sick and trembly at the horror of what he had just heard, and with the certain knowledge that he too was trapped in this web of deceit. If he denounced his brother, what would happen to Angus?

  Of course he understood why Angus would want to have a go, but to take such a risk…His brother had no idea what life was really like in France. What if he was put in command too soon, taken straight up to the front without preparation? How would he face the shelling and bombardments when most raw recruits, officers or no, were terrified out of their wits? His nerves wouldn’t hold up for long before he made a show of himself and funked it. Officers who were weak or bullies often never made it out of no man’s land. Sometimes they were found with bullets in their backs; British bullets.

  I have to go out there and rescue him was Guy’s first instinct, but common sense told him that it was already hopeless. He would have to wait until he came back, then no one would know the truth. It would be ages before he was entitled to another home leave.

  He sat on a stone bench, feeling his world had collapsed. What would Father have said? How could he rescue the family honour? As for his mother, he didn’t understand, but one thing was certain: he was not going to stay another night with her. He didn’t trust her not to lock his door. This farcical charade of making out to the servants that he was Angus must stop. He’d never felt so alone, and to know she’d cut him off from Selma…

  But she
was right. If he contacted her who knew where it might end? A village has a thousand eyes. There would be speculation that might jeopardise his brother’s life. He mustn’t take that risk.

  For all his stupidity, Angus was his other half. But just now this knowledge hung heavy. He was feeling peculiar, his body and mind in a mess after weeks of medication he had never truly needed.

  There was only one person now to whom he could turn, but to do that he must play along with these wiles a little longer, change his clothes, pack a bag, throw himself on the mercy of Dr Mackenzie. He must admit an addiction and ask him for the name of a private clinic where he could shake the dust of Waterloo House off his feet. Mother could stew in her own juices with this one. He would not wait until Angus saw fit to resume his rightful place.

  He looked up at the old house with sadness. He’d been so happy here as a boy, but now it was tainted with deceit and treachery. Let Mother rattle round in it on her own for a while and feel the icy chill of both their absence. She had brought it all on herself. He wouldn’t trust her word again.

  Now it was time to find a new billet. Guy Cantrell didn’t exist here, nor Angus neither. Time to find a new name, a new identity and a new hiding place. He would not be taking his brother’s name. He wanted to go far away from this cursed place to lick his wounds. If your family betrays you who else can you trust?

  Hester paced from room to room, opening and shutting doors, tidying up any sign of clutter, busying herself as if there was a purpose to each day. Dr Mac’s words were ringing in her ears.