by Connie Monk
‘Bet you he’ll be here with the veg this afternoon. Can’t see him making a holiday of a bit of leave.’
‘Ah, I dare say he’ll bring the stuff. But there are usually people to be served at that time of day; there would be no chance for a chat. He’s got nothing but women for company at his garden. That little lass of his ought to have been a boy, darned if she didn’t. Got the makings of a real little tomboy if ever a child had.’
‘I’ll see to the customers. Off you go.’
‘I’ll go on my grid, so I shan’t be above half an hour or so.’
If Dennis had been living at home when Fudge had joined the family, he would have been more careful. For the first few days when the children set off for school Kathie had reminded them to be sure the gate was properly fastened, just as she always reminded Nanny Giles. But all of them were careful and Fudge spent most of his time with his nose in the mesh of the netting that kept him shut away from the growing area.
‘There’s Mr Hopkins from the veg shop coming up the path,’ Sarah called to Dennis. ‘I bet word has got round already that you’re home. Shall I let him through?’
So a minute or two later, sitting on a plank held between two upturned empty oil drums, the two men were soon lost in conversation. As Dennis listened to the familiar voice he thought as he had a hundred times in these last few hours just how much all this meant to him – the cottage, the smell of the earth, the challenge that had become part of his life, Kathie, Jess, all of it. If he felt that these things were the reason for his fighting, then there was no dragon he wouldn’t have challenged. But what had the way he had spent the last months got to do with the things that really mattered? He held his packet of Gold Flake for Jack Hopkins to take one, then put one between his own lips and felt for his matches.
‘Your young Jess stopped on her way to school and told me you were here. Growing up fast is Jess. That skinny little evacuee kid hangs on her every word; I’ve watched them together. Your little lassie is a real leader.’
‘Being an only one, I dare say she’s grown up faster than some. I hope always being with Beth won’t hold her back.’ The words were out before he could stop himself.
‘Likely it’ll work the other way round. No sharper knife in the drawer than your Jessie. I shouldn’t be smoking your fags. They’re getting as hard to find as gold dust, and here we are only four months into the war. What do you reckon? Do you think we’re going to beat bloody Adolf in quick time? Me, I’m frightened to look to the future.’
‘God knows how long it’ll take. But rest assured we’ll not give up till we’ve got him grovelling. I’m just thankful I’m being sent overseas at the end of my fourteen days, at last I’m going to have a chance to do what I’ve been training for.’
‘One war is enough for any man and you did your bit last time round.’
‘It was the silly sods who carved up the peace that caused much of the trouble.’
Puffing peacefully at their cigarettes the two men believed theirs was the wisdom. So the minutes passed until Jack Hopkins’ conscience reminded him he had a business to run. Dennis walked with him to the gate and even then they seemed loath to put an end to the visit, but at last the greengrocer pedalled off down the lane while Den came back to pick up the thread of his morning’s work.
‘Where’s Fudge?’ Kathie asked as she ladled the lunchtime soup from the saucepan.
‘What does he usually do when you’re working?’ Den asked. ‘The last I saw of him he walked off in a huff because I wouldn’t let him follow me through that gate you put up in that “Charlie Harvey” net fence you ladies erected. And, by the way, that gate needs stronger hinges than those little things you put on it. I’ll get some when I take the stuff into Hopkins later on.’ He was looking forward to the afternoon trip to the village; often enough he’d imagined it. New to the task of keeping an eye on the puppy, he didn’t consider it any cause for concern that the little creature wasn’t watching Kathie’s every movement as she passed soup bowls to Sally and Sarah. In truth he was put out by the fact that the midday break he and Kathie had always shared by themselves were invaded, as he thought of it, by a couple of girls from the village.
‘I’ll take a look outside for him,’ Sally said, getting up from the table.
‘And I’ll check upstairs,’ Kathie answered.
Den laughed as he took a spoonful of vegetable soup. ‘Leave him be,’ he said. ‘Once he smells food he’ll show up.’
‘You’re sure you shut the gate, Den?’
‘I told you. That’s when he sloped off in a huff. I’ve dreamt of your soup for months, Kathie, I’m not having it spoilt by a puppy with the sulks.’
But Kathie was gone. She hadn’t been talking about the gate in the netting fence, she had meant the one onto the lane. As soon as she saw it was open she knew Fudge had escaped. He must have gone to the common, that’s where the girls always took him. So she turned left and hurried along the narrowing track, calling his name as she went.
Once on the common the calling went on, ‘Fudge! Come on, boy! Fudge!’ Please don’t let him be lost; this is the only place he knows his way to. ‘Fudge!’
Perhaps he’d got into the wood of the hall, he could easily have got between the wooden bars of the gate. The pupils had returned the previous day, but they would have been in class. ‘Fudge!’ But she called more quietly, sure that if he was there he would hear her walking on the carpet of dead leaves and come to her. She stood still and listened, hoping to rear a rustle in the leaves and see him bounding towards her. Yes, listen!
‘Kathie! What are you doing here all by yourself? Is everything all right?’
In her relief at hearing the concern in his voice, she turned to Bruce and told him the story.
‘We’re all used to making sure the gate is latched properly, but you see Den has come on leave.’
‘Your husband? That’s wonderful. I hope I get a chance to meet him. These grounds are vast, Kathie. Before the boys are excused from the dining room I’ll tell them about Fudge. Some of the older ones know him, of course. They have half an hour free time before afternoon classes, so they’ll have a good hunt.’
‘He must have come this way. The girls always take him to the common so he wouldn’t have gone towards the village.’
‘When you get home you may find he’s arrived first. Dogs have an instinct for retracing their steps.’
She nodded. Talking to him had chased away the vision of having to break it to the girls that Fudge was lost.
It occurred to her that it was a strange place for them to meet in the middle of a school day. ‘I was trespassing,’ she said, her eyes seeming to smile as she asked, ‘but what was the headmaster doing lurking in the woods?’
‘Guilty as charged,’ he laughed. ‘I often escape down here. The perfect place for a quiet cigarette and solitude.’
‘Then along I come and spoil it all.’
He shook his head. ‘On the contrary. I often lean on that gate and look along the lane towards Westways. The house is out of sight, but I can just see the bottom part of your land and I like to imagine you out there.’
Surely it was the sort of remark any friend might make and yet she found herself looking anywhere rather than meet his gaze.
‘Imagine the girls and me working away while you’re skiving with nothing better to do than lean on the gate, smoking,’ she bantered.
‘It must be a great relief to you to have your husband home.’
She nodded. ‘It’s embarkation leave.’ There! She’d actually made herself put it into words. So far they hadn’t even told Jess and, although there was no sense in it, she had felt that as long as it wasn’t spoken she could hold it off. ‘Fourteen days. Don’t know where he’ll be sent. Perhaps it won’t be France. He should never have joined the Terriers, he’s too old to get called up.’
Hearing the fear in her voice, Bruce’s first feeling was that her husband was a lucky man: imagine if it were he just home for
fourteen days embarkation leave. What difference would it make to anyone if he went to war? He thought of Elspeth, her never failing smile, the emptiness in her eyes.
‘It’s because of men like that, men who choose to serve even though they wouldn’t have been called, that we shall win this war. You must be very proud.’ Then, with a shrug that seemed to imply his uselessness, he continued, ‘And me, with time on my hands to lean on a five-bar gate listening to the silence.’
‘I must go and see if Fudge has come home. And thanks, Bruce, for saying you’d get the boys to look in the grounds.’
He went with her to the gate ready to give her a hand as she climbed over, but she was nimble and it presented no problem.
‘If we find him, I’ll bring him home this afternoon. If we don’t I’d like to look in after school to make sure you’ve got him back – and to meet your husband.’
Kathie arrived home to find no sign of the puppy. The two girls returned to work, but their hearts weren’t it in. Fudge had wormed his way into everyone’s affection and at the back of all their minds was the thought that before four o’clock Jess and Beth would be home.
‘It was my fault, I couldn’t have thought to shut it after I stood outside talking to Jack Hopkins,’ Den said as he carried the tray of bowls to the kitchen. No one had had any appetite; even he who had thought so often of Kathie’s cauldron of home-made vegetable soup, had found it was spoilt by his feeling of guilt. It was that guilt which put the bluster in his voice as he went on, ‘When we find him I must see there is a notice on the gate reminding people to latch it properly. I wonder you hadn’t had the forethought to do that from the start – there are always callers, the postman, the milkman, anyone might leave it open if they’re not reminded.’
‘Rubbish! People don’t need reminding to close gates behind them.’ Her tone carried criticism. Would they have spoken to each other like this six months ago? They weren’t the only couple whose roles had been changed by the war. He was pulled in two directions: partly he was proud – and relieved – at the capable way Kathie was running Westways; but he harboured an underlying feeling of resentment of her cheerful efficiency. And her sentiments were as undecided as his: it was wonderful to have him home but there was something in his manner as he inspected how she, Sally and Sarah had been caring for ‘his’ market garden that she found patronizing. For a moment silence hung between them.
It was his sense of guilt that made him pump up the tyres of his bicycle and set off to ride round the village looking for a sign of the escapee. Fudge was a pretty puppy, wasn’t it quite likely that someone had seen him out without a collar and had taken a fancy to him. The village was small, he went a mile or so on along the Deremouth road, then in the other direction on the road towards Exeter. After more than an hour he returned home hoping, just as Kathie had earlier, that Fudge would be there before him.
The village school was in Highbury Lane, a turning off the main street just past the shops. Most of the houses were beyond the turning, so as the children bundled out into the freedom of the afternoon the majority went back to the corner then turned to the right. Two or three lived above the shops, but Jess and Beth were the only ones to head towards the lane to the common. On that afternoon, just as they usually did, they climbed a stile into a meadow belonging to Merrydown Farm. Some of the grazing cows looked up at them in an uninterested way as they kept to the edge of the grass before climbing another stile into a cutting that took them to the village street between Jack Hopkins’ greengrocery store and the fish and chip shop. They never dawdled, especially since the advent of Fudge who would be waiting for his walk before it got too near dusk for them to be allowed to take him.
Heads together they chattered as they scurried along, then Beth suddenly noticed something that cut her off mid-sentence.
‘Look Jess! Over the road, just coming under the gate of Colebrook Field!’
‘It’s Fudge!’
The bus from Deremouth was stationary as the local passengers climbed out by the fish and chip shop so, calling Fudge, Jess ran onto the road just behind it. She had been taught to look both ways before crossing a road and she made sure there was nothing following after the bus.
‘Fudge, come on Fudge,’ she yelled, rushing towards him just as he heard her voice and bounded to meet her. Never cross a road in front of a parked car, she had been told, in case there’s something coming. But in her excitement at seeing the little dog she forgot to look to the left. The driver of the white van stamped hard on his brake pedal; there was a screech of tyres, a thud, then a deadly hush.
‘Poor little mite. Wretched dog out by itself. Don’t touch her, she must have broken bones. Lucky if it’s no worse than that. Oh dear God, someone’s little girl . . . The dog’s a goner, that’s for sure.’ Then noticing Beth: ‘Don’t hang about here, dear, just you run along home.’
Two minutes ago the street had been quiet, yet suddenly there was a crowd. Where do people come from, like a colony of ants on a drip of honey? Jack Hopkins himself pushed his way to the front of the group.
‘That’s the kiddie from the market garden. I was with her dad only this morning – home on embarkation leave. Someone run to the call box and ring for an ambulance, it’s no use any of us trying to move her.’ Then to the driver of the van who was leaning against the vehicle for support, he added, ‘Here, old man, let me give you a hand into my shop. You all right? My missus’ll give you a cup of tea. We’ll have to get the police along, but it wasn’t your fault, I’ll vouch for that. The kiddie just ran out without looking. When we get in the shop I’ll look up the number of the little one’s parents. Poor buggers. What a start to her dad’s leave.’
Beth half heard the remarks. She tried to push through the group so that she could reach Jess – Jess and Fudge.
‘Run along home, there’s a good girl,’ a woman said to her in an authoritative voice, ‘it’s no place for children.’ Others round her backed her remark. They meant kindly, but how could Beth ‘run along home’ and leave Jess lying hurt? Beth moved away from the group of spectators and out of sight in the cutting from the stile into the meadow. They’d said an ambulance would come; did that mean Jess would be taken to hospital? When Auntie Kathie got here it would start to get better and perhaps the men with the ambulance would say she could take Jess home. But those people had said that Fudge was a goner; that meant he had been killed. Beth pushed her small body against the hedge that bordered the cutting as if that way she would be invisible. But no one was interested in what had happened to her. As if they were watching a play unfold, they were anxiously awaiting the arrival of the next characters. Who would get there first? Would it be the ambulance or the child’s parents?
At Westways, with a hand that felt weak and clammy Kathie put down the telephone receiver. An accident outside Jack Hopkins’ shop! Jess hurt and an ambulance on its way!
‘Den,’ she called as she ran outside to find him. ‘Den!’ But her mouth was so dry it didn’t want to form the word. She found him loading the afternoon delivery into the van and somehow managed to tell him what she knew.
‘Get in the van. Leave everything. Christ! What was she doing crossing the road?’ He asked it with no hope of an answer for, after all, how would Kathie know?
‘She saw Fudge. Fudge has been killed.’ It was like living a nightmare. They didn’t speak again as the van raced down the lane at a speed that nearly threw them from their seats, and then took the right-hand turn with screeching tyres. Immediately they could see the gathered crowd and the stationary van. How had they managed to get an ambulance so quickly? Already it was there and the doors closed ready for its journey to Deremouth.
‘They’re taking her to hospital,’ Kathie made a supreme effort to speak clearly and with a confidence she was far from feeling.
‘We’ll follow it and get there at the same time. She’ll want us. Thank God I’m home. Bloody dog.’ What a moment for Kathie to realize that until he went away in the army s
he had probably never heard him swear; often on the phone it would be ‘bloody war’, ‘bloody army’ and now it was ‘bloody dog’. Poor little Fudge, such a bundle of love, now he was dead. If only they could turn back the clock and not leave the gate open, the girls would be home from school and taking him for a run on the common. She felt a sob catch her breath.
‘You should never have let them have the animal,’ Den’s voice cut across her thoughts. ‘Well at least we can get rid of that dreadful netting you and those girls put up. We shall be hours at the hospital, you know; you’ve not left anything cooking have you? If the poor kid has broken anything they will have to X-ray her and then set it.’
His words were a pointer to the future, a future with Jess at home to be cared for. Her confidence took a step towards recovery.
‘No, it was too early to be cooking. I even remembered to lock the door and call to the girls not to worry if we weren’t back when they went. I’m glad they aren’t ringing the bell on the ambulance; that would frighten her. I wish there was some way of letting her know we are right behind them.’
By that time they were crossing Picton Heath. It wasn’t far now to the main Exeter road where they would turn left until they reached a right turn to Deremouth railway station. Then down Station Hill and they would be at the hospital.
‘Sorry mister, you can’t leave the van there,’ someone called to Den as he pulled up by the side of the ambulance. ‘Only ambulances here. Drive on round to the side and you’ll find plenty of space.’
‘I must park here. It’s my daughter just going to be brought out of the ambulance.’
‘Sorry. The other ambulance will be back and there’s only room for the two. Go round the side and by the time you get back they’ll have your daughter inside.’
Kathie started to undo the door to get out, but Dennis stopped her.
‘Stay where you are! We’ll go in together.’
By the time they got rid of the van and ran back to the Casualty entrance, there was no sign of Jess. They expected to find her on the stretcher waiting for a doctor to see her, but there was only an elderly man with his arm in a sling.