The Clouded Land

by Mary Mackie

  That made me look at him. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘I know.’ His eyes held mine – clear, green and suddenly inimical. ‘You don’t care spit what I think of you, anyway.’

  It hadn’t occurred to me that he thought of me at all, not in that way. ‘Please?’

  He shrugged and looked at the cap he was twisting in his hands, the jumping muscle in his jaw revealing his annoyance. ‘I know what you think of me, though.’

  ‘I don’t think anything of you!’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ Now his eyes sparked anger at me. ‘You think I’m beneath your notice. You, and all your blessed family. Well,’ he got to his feet, towering over me, ‘that’ll teach me to try playing Good Samaritan. I only stayed because I thought you might need some company. I should’ve known my help wouldn’t be wanted. I’ll bid you good day, Miss von Wurthe – Brand – whatever the heck you call yourself.’ And he turned to march away.

  Until now my acquaintance with young men had been confined to the likes of Carl-Heinz and Willi von Sturm, neither of whom had ever been asked to do a serious day’s work in his life. Philip Farcroft was different, far more than the simple farm labourer I had originally taken him for. I didn’t quite know what to make of him, but I knew I didn’t want us to part as enemies.

  ‘It’s Kate,’ I said heavily.

  He paused, not answering, his back rigid under the faded shirt.

  ‘You might as well call me Kate,’ I added. ‘May I call you Philip? Philip… you’re right, I am feeling… badly. I had a letter. A hateful letter. From Germany. That’s why I came out. I couldn’t face them at the house. I don’t belong there. I don’t belong any—’ My voice broke on the last word and I bit my lip, choking back my distress. What on earth was wrong with me? Why did I feel I could say such things to him?

  Slowly, almost reluctantly, he let himself relax. He sat down again, turned towards me with his arm along the back of the pew between us.

  ‘Do you want to tell me the rest?’

  I shook my head. ‘I can’t. It… oh, it’s long and complicated and tedious. You must have work to do.’

  ‘I have. But there’s no hurry if…’ His voice turned rueful as he added, ‘History repeating itself.’ Blinking back the threat of tears, I saw his mouth lift at one corner. ‘My brother used to get into trouble for neglecting his chores on your mother’s account. If he knew she was about, he’d drop everything trying to catch a glimpse of her.’

  ‘He would?’ I was puzzled. ‘Where is he now?’

  The faint smile in his eyes faded. ‘Dead. Eight years ago. A plough toppled over on him. He bled to death.’

  I was too appalled to know what to say.

  ‘Dad swears that was all on account of Clara Rhys-Thomas, too,’ Philip added. ‘He believes that, after Clara married that German fellow, Michael lost heart. Got careless. Stopped caring.’

  ‘I had no idea. I… I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why? Another Farcroft less…’

  Aware that fresh hostility was hovering between us, I said earnestly, ‘I’m not a part of that feud, Philip. We aren’t obliged to be enemies, you and I, just because you’re a Farcroft and I’m from Denes Hill. Are we?’

  He didn’t answer, but I could see he was thinking about it.

  ‘What did your father say when he found out the new heir had been sheltered under his roof?’ I asked.

  ‘I didn’t tell him.’

  ‘So the whole truth is our secret – yours, and mine, and Saffron’s.’ The thought of sharing a secret with him was delicious, somehow. ‘You know… you were splendid.’

  Mouth wry, he shook his head. ‘No…’

  ‘You were! And I’m enormously grateful for it. I couldn’t have managed alone.’

  ‘I’m sure you could,’ he argued, a stain of blood creeping up his lean cheek. ‘It was the least I could do, anyway. If it hadn’t been for Dad… I, er, suppose they told you they sent the police to see us.’

  ‘I didn’t hear what happened.’

  ‘Dad told them there’d been an accident with a plough and that was how the trench was made.’

  ‘Did they believe him?’

  ‘To tell you the truth, by the time they got there I’d cleared away the evidence, so there wasn’t much for them to see. They warned us to be careful in future, but they didn’t press charges.’

  ‘Perhaps they should have done! I’m sorry, I know he’s your father, but… it was a dangerous thing he did. Someone might have been badly hurt. We do have a right to use that lane, don’t we?’

  ‘There’s been a right of way there for ages past,’ he admitted. ‘The thing is… it goes right on up through the woods, over the hill and down into Heacham Hollow. There used to be some good rough shooting. But when your grandfather came he put his gate across it, and a notice claiming it was all private property, and he got his men to chase the local people away. He got a court order stopping all public access – he knew the magistrate. So Dad says if the villagers can’t use the path going up to Denes Hill, then he’ll stop the Rhys-Thomases using his bit of the lane.’

  ‘I see,’ I sighed. ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘He knows he went too far this time, though,’ Philip added. ‘We had a threatening letter from your lawyer. But I wrote offering to pay for any damage to the car and yesterday we heard that your uncle Frank was willing to settle for that. Maybe Dad’ll cool down now the old man’s dead and gone. But… you were going to say – about that letter you had.’

  ‘Oh… no, it’s nothing.’ I couldn’t explain my problem, not to him. ‘I mustn’t keep you from your work.’

  ‘Then I’d better go and show my face or Dad’ll think I’m slacking. You, er… do you need a ride back?’

  ‘Thank you, but I have my cycle. Besides, what if your father saw us together?’

  ‘What if he did? He’s not a monster, you know. He’s got a quick temper, that’s all. Anyway, I was only offering you a ride, not asking you to start walking out with me.’

  Stung, I gazed at the lapel pin in my hand, reminded of Carl-Heinz. ‘Just as well. You’d have received a dusty answer.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  The disgust in his voice made me look up and see that he had taken my answer as a personal slight. ‘Oh, Philip! Don’t be so testy. I didn’t mean… What I meant was I have no wish to become involved in that way. Not for a long time, if ever. I’m not going to college to get an education just to waste it on becoming some man’s chattel.’ Somehow, the decision had formed without conscious effort.

  ‘You’re going to college?’ Philip asked in surprise.

  ‘To the London School of Economics. That’s why I came to England.’ If I said it firmly enough, maybe I would in time believe it.

  ‘You mean… you’re staying? I assumed you’d be going back to Germany now that—’

  ‘No. No, I— Ouch!’ In my agitation, I had stuck the sharp end of the lapel pin into my thumb. As I sucked the pain, tasting blood, the pin again went spinning to the floor and Philip reached to retrieve it for me, holding it between his fingers. The little aeroplane seemed to fascinate him.

  ‘It’s a Farman, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘I think so. You can tell by the shape of the wing, though they’ve modified it since this was made. They’re experimenting with…’ He stopped himself, giving me a rueful glance. ‘Sorry, I expect it’s all Greek to a girl, but I find the whole idea of aviation exciting.’

  ‘And so do I! Being a girl has nothing to do with it. I can drive a motor, too, which I bet you can’t.’

  ‘I could soon learn, given the chance,’ he responded at once. ‘But I’d much rather fly. I’d have liked to go to that air meeting they had in France a couple of years ago, but Dad said we couldn’t afford to throw good money away on that sort of jaunt.’

  ‘The meeting at Rheims?’ I asked. ‘I’ll tell you about that some time.’

  His face lit with boyish envy. ‘You were th
ere?’

  ‘No. But my stepbrother and… and some of his friends went.’ Carl-Heinz had gone on that trip. And Willi von Sturm.

  ‘Lord! Wish I’d seen it. Being a Territorial is all right, but if—’

  ‘A Territorial?’

  He paused to collect his thoughts. ‘A part-time soldier. We train at weekends, and summer camp. But if I could do just as I wanted I’d go off and join the RNAS tomorrow – that’s the Royal Naval Air Service. They’ve established a naval air battalion down south, you know. A place called Farnborough. With them, I could learn to fly.’

  How strange, I thought with a curious lump in my throat. Who would have thought that Philip Farcroft and Carl-Heinz von Siemens had anything in common? I felt that I had been allowed a glimpse of his deepest secrets. ‘You may as well keep that pin,’ I said.

  ‘What?’ He looked at me in startlement. ‘No, I couldn’t.’

  ‘Of course you could. I don’t want it. I bought it… I bought it on impulse, as a souvenir. Keep it. Call it a thank you for being so kind. No, don’t argue with me. You have been kind. Again. I seem to be falling deeper and deeper into your debt.’

  Philip shook his head, his eyes steady on mine. ‘You don’t owe me a thing,’ he said quietly, and added, as if testing the sound of it, ‘Kate.’

  Without warning, the atmosphere around us became charged. I had been aware of him as a personable male creature ever since he had stepped aboard the Lynn-bound train, but there in the quiet church the feeling swamped me and instinct told me, with stunning clarity, that he was equally aware of me. My face grew hot, my head tight. I caught myself picturing his sturdy torso, naked beneath the rough clothing, and… My thoughts shocked me, for I had never reacted to a man, not even Carl-Heinz, in quite that physical way. Surely it wasn’t decent!

  Needing to escape from a danger I didn’t fully comprehend, I leapt to my feet. ‘Is that the school bell? Mensch! I must go.’ I edged away from him, out of the pew.

  ‘No, don’t…’ he began anxiously, rising as if to stop me. ‘Have I upset you, going on about soldiering and such? I mean, with you being raised over there in Germany…’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of it.’

  ‘Nor had I, until that minute,’ he confessed. ‘But, if enemies try landing on the Norfolk coast whoever they are, I’ll be there to meet them. A man has to stand ready to defend his own.’

  The thought made my head feel tight with panic. ‘It won’t come to that. It can’t! Oh… why must everyone keep talking about war? I don’t even want to think about it. Philip… do I really sound like a foreigner?’

  ‘Not so much as you did when we first met.’

  ‘Good. Good. Well… I must get back, or I shall be in trouble.’

  As I made for the chancel steps, he said, ‘If you felt like taking a walk Saturday night, I might be out getting some air myself.’

  ‘Oh?’ What was he suggesting – that I should meet him?

  ‘I’m hoping to slide out from the barn supper. The dogs’ll need a run. And if I have to sing “To be a Farmer’s Boy” once more, I’ll go batty.’

  ‘Oh. Yes, I see.’

  A wry twist to his lips said he took that for a ‘no’. ‘Thanks for the pin, anyway. So long, Kate.’

  * * *

  At Denes Hill, Annie informed me that she had ‘had to tell Lady Rhys-Thomas as how you’d gone out, miss. She asked me straight out. She say I was to tell you, soon’s you came in, that she want to see you in the study. Right quick, miss.’

  Though I was hot and dishevelled from cycling, I went upstairs to find Grandmother, pausing only to remove my hat and straighten my hair. Somehow I had found the beginnings of my future path. It resembled a way through tangled woods, fraught with weeds and brambles, but I could fight my way through if I were strong and resolute. The first obstacle was about to be removed: I was going to tell Grandmother the truth.

  The study had been Grandfather’s room, but his widow had taken it over and spent her days busy with paperwork – business affairs and personal letters – assisted by her maid-cum-secretary, Anderson, and by her daughter Vicky. As I turned into the upper hallway, I saw these last two outside the study door, talking in lowered voices. I detected a smirk in Vicky’s voice as she said what sounded like, ‘…rid of the elbee for a while. She can’t—’ The sentence snapped off as she saw me and turned to say, with a lightness so studied that it told her discomfort, ‘Oh, there you are at last, Kate. Where have you been? We’ve all been worrying ourselves awfully over you, and Mother’s waiting.’

  What was she feeling guilty about? And then I realized… I had misheard ‘the elbee’ – it wasn’t a slang phrase, it was initials: C.L.B. Emmet had used the same expression, I recalled, and Frank had shut him up. C.L.B. – it stood, of course, for Catherine Louise Brand. And it was not a term of endearment.

  Grandmother sat behind a businesslike desk, dressed in her accustomed black and writing on an envelope. ‘Close the door. Wait.’ Having completed the address, she took a stamp from a small box and placed it carefully on the envelope, which she added to a few others in a tray. ‘Now…’ She turned to give me her full critical attention.

  Anticipating an inquisition about my absence, I said, ‘I’ve been to the village. To church.’

  That took her by surprise. ‘To church?’

  ‘I needed to think.’

  ‘I see.’ She toyed with the cameo brooch at her throat, obviously disconcerted. ‘Well… if you’ve decided to mend your ways, of course I can only approve. A sinner brought to repentance…’

  ‘It wasn’t forgiveness I was seeking, Grandmother,’ said I sententiously. ‘It was enlightenment. I wanted to understand why my entire family had painted my character in the most vivid shade of scarlet without even giving me the chance to defend myself. Even a murderer is allowed his day in court. I wasn’t given a hearing of any kind.’ The story of the misunderstanding poured out in an incoherent jumble, ending: ‘…and now, because Carl-Heinz lied about me, everybody thinks the worst – Mother, and you, Uncle Frank, Emmet, Vicky… Do all of them know the sorry tale?’

  Grandmother sat with a hand to her throat, her face pale and still, only her eyes moving, searching my face. When at last I ran out of words, she got to her feet. ‘I’m distressed that you take me for a common gossip, Catherine. I told the family only that your parents felt you should spend some time here in order to forget an unsuitable attachment. To be frank, I’ve had rather more on my mind than your sordid infatuation with some callow youth. I do not see what profit there is in discussing it further. It’s over. Whatever happened, you must learn from it, and go on.’

  ‘But nothing happened! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Don’t you believe me?’

  ‘Whether I do or not is not the issue. Your own conscience must be your judge.’

  ‘You don’t believe me! Why don’t you believe me? How can I prove…’

  ‘You can prove yourself by your behaviour from now on,’ she said with a dismissive gesture. ‘Now, please… I have other things to do. The reason I asked Annie to send you up here was…’ She took an envelope from her desk. ‘This came for you. I wanted to be with you when you opened it. It’s from the School of Economics.’

  I tore the envelope open with shaking hands, taking a deep breath before unfolding the letter. Its few brief sentences offered me a place in college, beginning that October.

  ‘Your uncle Frank was afraid you might have failed the exam for lack of trying,’ Grandmother said. ‘I’m glad he was wrong. This is a splendid opportunity for you.’

  ‘And it means I shan’t be imposing on your hospitality much longer,’ I answered unsteadily. ‘I’m sure that will be another relief for you.’

  She drew a sharp breath, arching her neck as she strained to her full five feet four. ‘How dare you speak to me like that?’

  ‘Because it’s true,’ I said, and walked out.

  Vicky was still outside, thin and sly with her re
ddish-fair hair in a style so widely padded that it looked too heavy for her swanlike neck. Having heard most of what had passed between Grandmother and me, she smirked as she slid by me, murmuring, ‘See you at luncheon, Kate.’

  Oh… I couldn’t wait to get away, to make a new life for myself. In London.

  * * *

  Uncle Frank had the addresses of three prospective lodging places in the city – all of them eminently respectable, he assured me. When I told him of my quarrel with Grandmother, and explained what lay behind it, to my relief he believed my word.

  ‘Of course I believe you, Kate. Damn it – excuse me, I mean, dash it all – I shall write to Clara myself. If only they had given you the chance to speak up, they couldn’t have failed to see that you’re telling the truth. Don’t worry, girl. I’ll set them straight. The Mater, too. Though don’t think too harshly of her. She’s been lied to and had her trust shaken before now.’

  ‘Not by me!’

  ‘No, that’s true. Leave it with me, eh?’

  Whatever he said to Grandmother, I did detect a slight lessening in the frost from then on, though she never forgave my plain speaking.

  I kept myself busy, reviewing my wardrobe, making repairs and putting items out to be laundered. I had been annoyed to find that Marthe had packed nearly all of my belongings. Now, I guessed she had been instructed to do just that: I was not expected to go home – not for a very long time.

  A small allowance was being paid into the bank for me, but I determined to augment it by my own efforts – by my pen, if I could. There would be much to write about in London, especially the suffragette movement – my friends in Berlin would be interested to hear how the women’s cause progressed in England.

  In spare hours I resorted to physical activity, playing tennis with Emmet, or cycling, or walking, often taking a book or a magazine to read in some quiet corner. So long as I said where I was going, and when I expected to be back, no one objected to my doing as I pleased: Grandmother was trying to show me she trusted me. All too often, my way took me past the Farcroft farm, alert for glimpses of Philip.