by Lesley Eames
‘That was utterly mesmerising,’ Lizzie said, afterwards. ‘May I play it?’
‘I’d rather you sang while I played,’ Matt said.
Lizzie read the words through twice then nodded to show she was ready. Wanting to do justice to Matt’s song, she put all of her heart into singing it. When she finished, she saw Matt had a satisfied smile on his face. She raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘I remember how you used to think your voice wasn’t up to your friend, Polly’s. I liked your voice when you were child and I like it even more now. It’s full of emotion.’
Hadn’t Cordelia said much the same? Lizzie’s cheeks felt warm. ‘I don’t know about that.’
‘I do.’
‘Matt’s right about your voice, Lizzie,’ Edith said. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘Sing more songs!’ Thomas pleaded, and, seeing that everyone else seemed keen for her to continue, Lizzie obliged until Edith insisted she take a breather.
‘Is “Those Golden Fields” the first song you’ve written?’ Lizzie asked Matt.
Molly answered for him. ‘He’s written lots.’
‘Several, anyway,’ Matt confirmed.
He played and sang four more songs, three dreamy and one a lively, humorous song called ‘My Pillow Waits’ about wanting to go to sleep but having to stay up to oil his rifle, pile sandbags on top of the trench, chase rats away and pick lice out of his uniform.
‘That’s the best song,’ Thomas declared. ‘Especially the verse about the lice.’
‘You’re disgusting,’ Molly told him affectionately.
‘Are all the songs going to be published?’ Lizzie asked Matt, for, without exception, they were excellent.
‘That’s the plan.’
‘It’s getting late,’ Edith announced. ‘It’s long past bedtime for you younger ones and we older ones need to be thinking about settling down too.’
Life on the farm meant early to bed and early to rise, but there was also a plea for understanding in the look Edith gave Lizzie. Edith wanted to ensure Matt rested while he could.
‘I’m tired after my journey so an early night will suit me perfectly,’ Lizzie said.
It still took some time to settle the children. Lizzie was invited to read bedtime stories, which she enjoyed, then she tucked the little ones in before going out to the barn to admire the camp that had been set up in the hayloft. ‘I feel guilty for making you change sleeping arrangements,’ Lizzie said again, only to be shouted down with cried of, ‘This is much more fun!’
Edith made the grown-ups a final cup of tea then they said their goodnights. ‘I’ve enjoyed today,’ Matt told Lizzie.
‘So have I.’
Up in the small bedroom, Lizzie leant out of the window again. The air was cooler but still fragrant, and the moon was a silvery crescent in a star-filled velvet sky. With a sigh at the beauty of it all, Lizzie undressed and got into bed, wondering what the morning would bring.
32
She woke to brightness and the sound of voices down in the house and out in the yard. The Warrens had started the day without her.
‘You needed the sleep,’ Edith said, when, after washing and dressing hastily, Lizzie appeared in the kitchen.
‘What can I do to help? After all that sleep you won’t persuade me that I’m too tired.’
‘You’re still our guest.’
‘I hope I’m more of a friend.’
‘Of course you are. Well, then. Breakfast will be ready soon, so if you wouldn’t mind slicing bread?’
Lizzie jumped to the task. Breakfast was a lively meal and a good one too with fresh milk and eggs. ‘We have an advantage, producing our own,’ Edith explained. ‘I believe it’s been difficult in the towns and cities with food being hard to come by.’
Lizzie confirmed it. ‘It’s usually egg substitute for us.’
‘We’re lucky, though even here in the countryside some people have struggled. In the early days of the war, we saw near-starving children looking for dandelion leaves to eat in sandwiches or soups as they’d nothing else. We gave them as much proper food as we could spare. It’s got a little easier since the Food Controller was appointed to ration supplies, but it’s still a struggle to get hold of things like tea and sugar with so many cargo ships being torpedoed.’
‘Expensive too,’ Lizzie agreed.
She spent the rest of the morning helping Edith and playing with the children, but in the afternoon, Edith insisted that Lizzie should have time to talk with Matt. They went outside to make the most of the fine September day, Matt insisting he was well enough to walk slowly.
They admired the apples, pears and plums then sat down on a wooden bench from where they could see the fields in which Peter, Joe and Mikey were working. They chatted for a while then quietness settled over them. A comfortable quietness. Matt’s green eyes had narrowed against the sun as he drank in the scene and Lizzie guessed he was committing it to memory.
Birds flew overhead. ‘Swallows,’ Matt said. ‘Here for the summer but soon they’ll be going home to Africa or Arabia or even India.’
He’d be leaving home to go back to the front. Lizzie’s stomach tightened with fear for him. ‘Edith told me you’d been promoted to sergeant. She also told me about your Distinguished Conduct Medal.’
Matt grimaced, too modest to welcome praise for doing what he doubtless considered to be no more than his duty. ‘Anyone would have done what I did.’
‘Are you seriously suggesting that anyone would have continued a raid on a machine gun post while men were falling all around him? Then knocked it out of service, crawled to safety with an injured comrade on his back and crawled back to rescue two more?’
Matt shrugged.
‘It was brave of you,’ Lizzie insisted. ‘But I hope you’ll take care of your own life as well as the lives of your comrades.’
He turned to her with a wry smile. ‘Has Edith put you up to this?’
‘Can’t I be concerned for you too?’
For a moment his expression was unreadable. ‘I’m a lucky man having family and friends who care for me,’ he said then. ‘As I’ve already told Edith, I want to survive this war, so I’ve no intention of taking foolish risks.’
The trouble was that he wouldn’t consider it foolish to risk his life to save others. He’d consider it a duty.
Just as had happened during her first visit as a child, Lizzie’s days on the farm took on a pattern. Mornings were spent helping and playing with the children, while evenings were for gathering together for food and music. But every afternoon she spent time alone with Matt. Sometimes they talked, but at other times they simply looked out over the pastoral loveliness of the farm and the ever-changing sky above it, recapturing the old sense of comfort and companionship that wrapped Lizzie in inner warmth.
One wet afternoon she and Matt spent an hour at the piano after Lizzie had asked about his song-writing. ‘It’s hard to explain, but I’ll try,’ he said. ‘I suppose I’m like a miner who digs deep for coal. I dig deep into how I feel about things, whether they’re frivolous or more serious. The music comes from the mood and the words just follow. What do you do when you sing?’
‘It depends. If I’m singing in a concert to cheer people up, I think about them and how I might make them smile. If I’m singing a slower song – a ballad, perhaps – I suppose I do as you do and get down the mine to dig out the emotion.’
He ran his fingers across the keys. ‘I could write a song about you. “Lizzie is busy”…’
‘That makes me sound like a plant. A busy lizzie.’
‘All right, let’s think about other words that describe you. Intrepid, adventurous, principled, courageous… It’s hard to make lyrics with those. Unless… Got it! “Lizzie the Lionheart”!’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous,’ Lizzie laughed. ‘It reminds me of a song you played the first time I was here. What was it? Something about a lazy donkey?’
‘“Lazy Maisie”,’ Matt said. He
began to play it and soon the younger children and Molly came to join in.
Much as she loved Margaret, Polly and her life in London, Lizzie felt emotion welling up inside her at the thought of leaving Sorrel’s Patch and the lovely Warrens, her honorary brother, Matt, especially. No one had ever made her feel quite so safe or quite so understood, but perhaps that was the way of things with big brothers.
No one talked about the future beyond the war. Maybe superstition whispered in their ears too.
‘Would you mind if we sang some of your songs at our concerts?’ Lizzie asked Matt, when they were out on her last afternoon’s walk at Sorrel’s Patch, sitting on the bench again as Peter, Joe and Mikey worked in the fields.
‘If you really think they’ll entertain the men, I’ll consider it an honour. I can give you a printed copy of “Those Golden Fields” and I can write out the others if you think you can read my scrawl.’
‘I’m sure I can.’
‘Talking of handwriting – not that yours is a scrawl – I very much appreciate your letters. I hope you’ll go on writing to me.’
‘Of course I will.’
‘You seem to know exactly what I like to read – stories of your concerts and pupils that make me smile, and observations on the natural world that…’ He appeared to be thinking hard about how best to express himself. ‘They soothe my soul, Lizzie,’ he finally said.
His gaze was warm and sincere, and Lizzie felt another rush of emotion at the thought of this dear friend returning to the bleakness and horror of the war. She swallowed. ‘I’m glad you like my letters.’
She was pleased when a butterfly settled on the path in front of her as it gave her a chance to turn the conversation to a subject that wouldn’t make her cry. ‘Red Admirals are so pretty.’
‘Gorgeous,’ Matt agreed.
The weather was warm for the time of year. Matt squinted as the sun came from behind tufts of white cloud to blaze down on them. He rolled his shirt sleeves to his elbows and Lizzie saw there was a recent scar on a forearm. She stared at it, a small red line in the curve of his muscle.
‘Just a bit of shrapnel,’ he said, when he noticed her looking. ‘Warranted a couple of stitches, but no return to dear old Blighty. I had to wait for a more serious injury for that.’
Lizzie felt an urge to reach out and touch the scar – until a giggle from nearby jolted her out of her thoughts.
Thomas stepped from behind some bushes. ‘Are you going to kiss Uncle Matt’s arm better?’ he asked her.
Lizzie was dismayed to feel a blush building.
‘I kiss Uncle Matt’s hurts better,’ Thomas said, walking round to kiss the scar.
‘That’s because you’re a little boy and my nephew,’ Matt told him.
‘Mummy kisses my hurts better and she’s a grown-up,’ Thomas argued.
‘She’s also your mother,’ Matt pointed out. ‘Anyway, what are you doing here? Does your mother know you’ve come after us?’
‘No, but I’m still on the farm, and I’m not talking to strangers.’
‘Even so, I expect she told you not to make a nuisance of yourself.’
‘I’m not making a nuisance of myself. I’m being friendly.’ He paused, then, as though considering the question seriously, asked, ‘Am I being a nuisance?’
‘Your mother might think so. Best go back, eh?’
‘Are you coming? Lizzie should come because she’s getting sunburnt.’
‘Perhaps it is rather warm,’ Lizzie said, though it wasn’t the sun that was making her cheeks flame.
She jumped to her feet, distressed and eager to get away, and they headed indoors with Thomas chattering all the way into the kitchen.
‘You didn’t disturb Uncle Matt and Lizzie?’ Edith asked him.
‘No,’ Thomas said, though he looked at Matt and Lizzie uncertainly.
‘We came in because we were feeling hot,’ Lizzie said.
‘I’ve just the thing,’ Edith said. ‘Barley water. No lemons, as we haven’t seen lemons since the war started, but barley water with fresh mint is nice enough.’
Lizzie wanted only to be alone for a few minutes but she saw no way of refusing the barley water without her behaviour looking odd. She downed it quickly. ‘Delicious,’ she declared, then said, ‘Would you mind if I went upstairs to pack? It’ll save me from having to do it later.’
‘Good idea,’ Edith agreed, and Lizzie fled upstairs.
Reaching the little bedroom, she threw herself onto the bed and faced a truth that disturbed her deeply. She had wanted to kiss Matt’s scar. She’d wanted to reach out and smooth her fingertips over its surface before touching her lips to it in gentle, healing kisses. And then she’d wanted to hold Matt close and kiss him too.
Well, why not? They were like brother and sister.
But, no. Lizzie’s longing hadn’t been at all sisterly. It had been… lover-like, she supposed, the very thought of it making her wince. It was unsettling. Upsetting. And she couldn’t understand it.
How could she have felt such a powerful yearning for Matt when she loved Harry and was engaged to marry Harry? She had no business even thinking of another man, let alone craving the warmth, the closeness, the very essence of him.
Unless she’d misunderstood her feelings for Harry? A picture of his face came into her mind. Open and eager. Full of kindness and honour. Full of love too.
Feeling an answering tug of love for him, Lizzie knew that she hadn’t mistaken her feelings for Harry Benedict. She liked him. Admired him. Loved him.
So why…? She cringed again as guilt wracked through her. She might be unable to understand what was happening, but she knew it was wrong. Terribly wrong.
But in time an explanation occurred to her and gradually took shape in her mind. Lizzie was missing Harry dreadfully and longing to touch, to hold, to kiss him. Harry was away, though, while Matt was nearby. It had been a case of… Substitution seemed to be the most accurate description. Inappropriate, but now she understood it Lizzie would take care it didn’t happen again. All things considered, no harm had been done except to her conscience.
Unless Matt had been aware of her wayward feelings? No, surely not. Those feelings had lasted for only a moment before Thomas appeared and Matt had given no sign of having noticed them. He’d chatted to his nephew as naturally as ever. To Edith too.
Lizzie breathed out slowly and gratefully, though her conscience continued to sting. Quite right too. She deserved it.
Getting off the bed, she packed her things, though packing them in the morning would have been the work of only two or three minutes. Then she swallowed hard and returned downstairs.
Lizzie was all smiles and helpfulness for the rest of the day, and, if she found it hard to meet Matt’s shrewd gaze for long, she kept the fact to herself. She was just congratulating herself on having navigated the evening successfully when Thomas reached towards her throat.
‘Why don’t you wear your rings on your fingers?’ he asked, and Lizzie realised her silver chain must have slipped out of the neckline of her dress.
‘That’s her mother’s ring,’ Edith said. Lizzie had mentioned in one of her letters.
‘Both of them?’ Thomas touched one ring and then another.
Lizzie’s cheeks flamed again. ‘Actually, only the emerald ring was my mother’s. The diamond is mine. I’m… Well, I’m engaged to be married.’
‘Engaged?’ Edith looked taken aback. Confused too. ‘Why didn’t you mention it before?’
‘This visit was about Matt being at home. It wasn’t about me.’ The explanation had felt reasonable when Lizzie had first arrived and decided she wouldn’t share the news of her engagement just yet. Now it felt odd, even ridiculous. Lizzie couldn’t understand it herself, so it was no wonder that Edith was surprised and perhaps even a little hurt.
Lizzie couldn’t look at Matt but it was he who responded first.
‘It was kind of you to let me be the centre of attention but there’s plenty of
attention to go around.’ He walked to her side and kissed her cheek. ‘Congratulations, Lizzie. This calls for a celebration. We don’t have champagne, but we do have the brandy I brought home on my last leave.’
Edith gave a little shake as though waking herself up. ‘Of course. What am I doing, standing here like a statue? It’s lovely news.’
She stepped forward to hug Lizzie and soon the others were hugging her too.
Matt fetched the bottle from the pantry while Edith took glasses from a cupboard. ‘I’m sure they’re not the correct glasses for brandy but it’s the thought that counts.’
‘Can I have brandy?’ Thomas asked.
‘You can have extra milk.’
‘Who’s the lucky man?’ Joe enquired.
Still feeling horribly self-conscious, Lizzie told them about Harry. They were all concerned when she mentioned how she’d met him after being caught in the Zeppelin raid, but it was hard to face their kindness when she’d treated them as virtual strangers who were unworthy of her confidences. ‘It was Harry who found out which regiment you’d joined, Matt.’
‘That was kind of him.’
‘It was,’ Edith agreed. ‘We’re glad he went to the trouble, otherwise we wouldn’t have had the happiness of seeing you again, Lizzie.’
‘He proposed just before he returned to the front but the ring is a little too big. That’s why I wear it on the chain. I’ll have it made smaller eventually.’
‘Thomas is right. It’s a very pretty ring,’ Edith said, admiring it.
Lizzie felt even more uncomfortable, suspecting the diamond had cost what this family would consider a fortune. Perhaps it might even have equalled the price of a tractor or at least a substantial deposit on one.
Returning to Peter’s side, Edith slipped her arm through his and sent him the sort of smile that said, ‘Don’t worry. Lizzie’s ring may be spectacular and expensive, but I wouldn’t swap you for all the diamonds on earth.’
Edith didn’t have an engagement ring of any sort, and her wedding ring was a simple, slender band.
‘I hope you’ll be happy,’ Peter said. ‘If you’re half as happy as I am with Edith, that means very happy indeed.’