Beth was waking up now and Florence, who had finished her soup, took her in her arms, her soft hazel eyes focussed on the baby.
‘Will you and Amy go on living at The Beeches with your parents?’ James asked Edmond.
‘I want to be fit enough to go back to university this autumn,’ he replied. ‘If I can’t fight any more I can at least continue my science course at Cambridge. I only completed the first year, before the war. We plan to find a little house so Amy and Beth can come too.’
If only it all works out, Amy thought. She longed for him to be well enough to fulfil his plans. The Beeches was much grander than the little house where she had grown up with her parents and Bertie. She should be grateful for her lovely home, but Ma and Beatrice still made her feel inferior. At least Edmond was there with her now, but how she yearned for a time when they could settle in their own little home!
‘So when do you have to return to France?’ Edmond asked James.
‘They only gave me four days here, so I need to set off tomorrow. I’ll be back there in a field ambulance all too soon.’
Florence looked up suddenly. ‘It’s all very well for you,’ she snapped uncharacteristically. ‘You’re not actually fighting.’
‘You’re right, I’m only an orderly.’ He looked at her directly. ‘The work is hard, though, and worthwhile.’
Florence made no reply but her mouth was a tight line. She rocked Beth gently in her arms. Amy was concerned at her implied criticism.
‘The orderlies do valuable work!’ she cried. ‘They prepare patients for surgery and dispense drugs. I’ve seen James at work escorting casualties and helping at the hospital in Ypres.’
She had not told anyone, not even Edmond, that her cousin was keeping a war diary.
An awkward hush fell on the table. Even Father seemed disconcerted. It was the first time Amy had seen him look at Florence disapprovingly.
Then Aunt Sophie brought chicken pie and mashed potato for their next course. She hovered by their table, neatly but simply dressed.
‘If only James could stay longer,’ she said. ‘I hope he receives his share of the comforts we send, so he can keep warm in his quarters, in the middle of winter.’
‘Some of the buildings are makeshift,’ Amy said. The previous winter she had been in France. ‘You just get used to wearing extra clothes under your uniform.’
She congratulated Aunt Sophie on the successful event before she bustled off to serve more meals.
As soon as they had finished their main course, Florence gathered up their plates, saying she would help serve the portions of apple pie. As she left she was looking a little embarrassed, as though sensing she had gone too far.
‘Florence shouldn’t have spoken to you like that,’ Amy said to James. She had never before felt so angry with her.
‘It’s about Bertie, isn’t it?’ he said with resignation. ‘I understand very well. She’s not the only one around here to think I’m a coward. The man she loved died fighting, and she still misses him dreadfully. I’ve taken a less dangerous option.’
Florence took less trouble now with the clothes she wore, and arranged her light brown hair very plainly. Amy could not remember when she had last relaxed into her sunniest, dimpled smile.
‘I’m sure that’s how she thinks,’ Edmond said. At first he too had been critical of James, for being determined not to fight, but his view had changed. ‘I saw enough of the vital work orderlies do at the Front to value them.’
‘I confess I have feelings for Florence,’ James said, his eyes straying towards her as she served plates of dessert to a nearby table. ‘She’s sweet and pretty. But her heart has been broken, and I’m a little younger than she is and not much of a catch. I can’t blame her for not encouraging me.’
Florence took less trouble now with the clothes she wore, and arranged her light brown hair very plainly. Amy could not remember when she had last relaxed into her sunniest, dimpled smile.
‘She’s entitled to keep you at a distance,’ Amy said, ‘but she needn’t be unpleasant.’
Beth was becoming fretful as her next feed was due. Amy asked Pa if he could drive her and Beth back to The Beeches.
‘Certainly,’ he said. ‘I’ll come back later for the others.’
Florence brought their plates of apple pie. ‘I’m afraid I have to leave now,’ Amy told her, passing Beth to Edmond while she did up her coat.
‘I need to leave shortly,’ Florence said. ‘My sister is visiting us.’
‘Allow me to escort you back,’ James said.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s hardly any distance.’
He looked mortified but accepted her wishes.
‘Thank you for your lovely celebration,’ Amy said to her uncle as she prepared to leave.
‘If I’d known for sure that your little one would be here in time I could have planned it so you and Edmond and Beth were at the centre of the celebration!’
‘No, focussing on the Working Party was a wonderful idea.’ She tucked the blanket tightly around Beth and followed Pa outside. The sunlight had faded and it was growing chilly.
Chapter Two
Larchbury, January 1918
‘How do you occupy yourself, when you’re not teaching?’ Sarah, Florence’s older sister, asked her.
She realises that time drags for me during the school holidays, Florence thought. At least we begin again on Tuesday. ‘I read a good deal,’ she said, ‘and practise on the piano.’ She herself felt she was taking root in the house, as though preparing for inevitable spinsterhood.
On Sunday, Sarah had to return to Wealdham. ‘Monday’s a day I’m normally at home,’ she said. ‘It’s such a trial having to do all the washing myself, now my laundry maid has left to work in a shop.’ So many jobs were available for young women now the men were away fighting.
‘How have you managed?’ their mother asked in a concerned tone. Her grey hair was held tightly in a bun and she was wearing a check dress with white cuffs.
‘I managed to persuade Mrs Taylor to do an extra half day to help me out,’ Sarah said, referring to her other maid.
Sarah’s hair was light brown, like Florence’s, arranged on top of her head. She was growing plumper as the years passed. She had sons of ten and twelve, who had stayed at home with their father.
Florence’s attention wandered as her mother and sister shared further domestic details. Sarah’s house in Wealdham was smaller than her home, but laid out similarly. Both had parlours which were meticulously clean and well-polished. Here, the coal fire flickered cheerfully in the hearth, with its surround of Delft tiles. Soon they would remove the Christmas foliage from the walls, and everything would be almost exactly as it had been in 1914. Few social events took place at this stage of the war, and the general air of despondency was oppressive.
* * *
When Sarah had set off for home, Florence decided to walk over to The Beeches to see Amy. She put on her brown coat and her plain felt hat.
On her dressing table she still kept the photo of Bertie, in uniform, taken in 1915 before he left for France. How proud and confident he looked, and how jolly and entertaining he had always been. Had she imagined that his silly cousin James was interested in her now? How could he ever think he could replace her fiancé?
All the same, she felt a shade guilty now about the way she had spoken to James, and was anxious to make her peace with Amy.
She set off along their drive, where shrivelled shrubs appeared through the remaining patches of snow, and walked along the High Street, then turned on to the narrow road towards The Beeches.
When she arrived, Chambers, the butler, admitted her and led her into the drawing room, where Amy and Edmond were sitting with his mother and sister.
‘Hello, Florence,’ Amy said. There was a little hesitation in her greeting. She didn’t like how I spoke to James yesterday, Florence thought.
Amy rang for Janet, the maid, and asked her
to bring tea and cake to the nursery. Florence followed her friend upstairs.
The little nursery was freshly wallpapered in a pale blue floral design. ‘It’s tricky finding somewhere to entertain visitors,’ Amy said. ‘Our other room has our bed in it, and just a very small sofa. The conservatory isn’t particularly attractive at this time of year.’
Florence chose the upright chair, so Amy settled in the rocking chair, and Beth slept on in her cot, beneath its frothy lace canopy.
Janet knocked and came in with a pot of tea, and some Christmas cake left from seasonal celebrations. She was thin and probably in her thirties. She bustled round in her usual energetic fashion, pouring them tea and serving the cake.
After the maid had left, Amy was quiet, a serious look on her face. Florence’s stomach lurched. She could guess why her friend was angry.
‘You were horrid to James yesterday,’ Amy said forcefully, her blue eyes piercing. ‘If you’d been out in France, like I have, you’d know how hard the orderlies work. They do essential duties.’
‘I suppose so. Perhaps I was harsh with him.’
‘Sometimes they organise baths for the men and help with the delousing. They look after the isolation cases as well. And you don’t hear them complain.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Florence said. ‘But they’re not risking their lives like the fighting men, are they?’
‘Not so much,’ Amy said, ‘but you do hear of orderlies being killed or injured when they go near the Front to evacuate the wounded.’
Florence winced. ‘I’m sorry I was outspoken,’ she said. She could not bear it if Amy stayed angry with her.
‘Remember how we used to campaign for votes for women before the war?’ Amy said.
‘Of course – you even got sent to jail for taking direct action!’ She was not likely to forget that incident, or the way it had disrupted Amy’s wedding plans.
‘James has principles, the way we have,’ Amy went on, clattering her teacup as she set it down on the tiny table. ‘His conscience won’t let him fight. He’s entitled to uphold his beliefs, the same as we are.’
‘If you put it like that, I suppose I should respect his views,’ Florence said, thoughtfully. ‘But there’s something else, too. I think he’s growing sweet on me. I noticed it the last time he came on leave, in the summer it must have been. He made a point of greeting me after church, and once he came to my house and asked if I’d like to come for a walk. I made an excuse of having to visit a pupil.’
Now Amy’s expression softened. She put her arm round Florence.
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I understand you can’t forget Bertie and don’t return James’s feelings. No-one expects you to spend time alone with him if you don’t want to. Just be gentle with him, that’s all.’
‘I feel mean now, for the way I spoke to him.’ Florence’s mind was troubled. ‘Should I write to him, do you think? No, that might make it look as though I was encouraging him… Tell you what, if I write a little note, apologising for speaking harshly, and saying I respect his principles, could you put that with your letter, next time you write to him?’
‘Of course, that would be fine.’
Beth was waking up, making little murmurs. Amy pulled back the quilt, picked her up and passed her to Florence for a cuddle. She’s going to forgive me, Florence thought. And I really should have accepted James’s right to have a mind of his own. He’s stuck to his ideals even when it’s brought him hostility.
* * *
‘Let me help you,’ Edmond begged his father a few days later. ‘I’m tired of being an invalid.’
Amy found him increasingly restless. ‘My friend, Katherine, is coming tomorrow,’ she reminded him. ‘You can help me entertain her.’
Beatrice was away for the day, visiting a friend, but his parents were taking coffee with them in the small morning room.
‘I’ll do that,’ Edmond promised. ‘But Pa, I can at least help with your paperwork for managing the forest. I can add up a column of figures as well as anyone else.’
‘Very well,’ Pa said. ‘I can certainly do with some assistance. But you’re to stop if you get tired.’
The room was at the back of the house, and through the window Amy could see the forest up the hill, the pines dark green in the thin winter sunshine. Their plantation was the family’s source of income.
‘Did you manage to get another forestry worker?’ Amy asked Pa.
‘I’ve approached two men who retired just before the war began, and they’ve both agreed to work a day or two each week. Walter is competent to act as a manager when he can come.’
When conscription had started in 1916, some of Pa’s best men had been called up.
‘At least they let you keep Ross to do the heavy work,’ Edmond said.
‘I should think so!’ Pa said. The war had brought him many concerns and his hair and moustache were entirely grey now. ‘There’s a high demand for wood. How do they expect me to produce it without the manpower? Apart from the old men working part time, I’ve got two remaining men in their fifties, and two youths too young to join up yet. I couldn’t manage without Ross. We need to keep the forest well maintained. The trees near the wide path need trimming back to provide an adequate fire break before the weather warms up.’
Amy knew that in the horrifying event of a fire starting, perhaps through a lightning strike, the break might contain it.
They finished their coffee and Edmond got up eagerly to follow his father back to the study.
Amy had fed Beth and left her asleep in the nursery. There, as here, Janet had lit a fire to drive away the chill. Ma looked up from her book. As usual she was stately in a smart blue dress and elegantly piled up grey hair.
‘How long is your nursing friend staying tomorrow?’ she asked in the grudging tone she was less likely to use when Edmond was there. He had not previously met Katherine but he had encouraged Ma to agree to her visit.
‘Just until late afternoon,’ Amy said, hoping the weather would be mild enough to go out. ‘She’s got a week’s leave and she’s visiting her aunt and uncle who live around ten miles from here. I’ve scarcely seen her since I left St Luke’s hospital for France, so it will be lovely spending time together.’
‘You’d better come with me to see Cook. You must realise how hard it is now to provide meals suitable for guests.’ Ma was always complaining about wartime shortages.
‘I promise you, Katherine will be happy with whatever is served for lunch,’ Amy said. ‘She’s from a fairly well-off family, but she’s been at St Luke’s for two years now. You should see the food served in the nurses’ hostel – mostly slurpy stews and overcooked vegetables. She’ll be grateful for anything decent to eat.’
Ma looked unconvinced.
‘I’m sure it won’t be a problem,’ Amy said, as she followed Ma to the kitchen.
Elsie, Mrs Johnson’s sixteen-year-old daughter, who accompanied her mother to work there two days a week, was chopping carrots messily on the table. Cook, plump and grey-haired, looked up from peeling apples. Amy knew she had a nephew fighting in Flanders. She toiled without complaint, even after their regular kitchen maid had left to take a position at the inn, replacing a man who had gone to fight.
She smiled at Amy when Ma asked what she planned to serve. ‘Your guest is another nurse, I gather. I’ll do my very best for her. I’ll make one of my pies.’
‘Thank you – that’ll be perfect.’
‘It won’t be a game pie, like before the war, but we should run to veal and ham.’
* * *
Edmond woke up next morning as Amy was feeding Beth. The familiar pain and tightness in his chest reminded him at once of his wound. There was the dismal feeling, whenever he woke, that his chest was deformed now and he would never be entirely fit again. Then he would look at his wife beside him, lovely in the dim light, and realise how fortunate he was.
He still had disturbed nights, less now from the pain but more
from recollections of his experiences at the Front during the Somme and the Ypres offensives. More than once Amy had said she had woken to find him thrashing around and rambling in his sleep. Sometimes it still seemed strange that he was no longer in danger every day. He had to make light of his haunting memories.
‘How’s Charles?’ Amy asked Beatrice after the mail had arrived with a letter from him.
‘He’s fine, and he’s been promoted to Captain – isn’t that wonderful?’ Her green eyes sparkled. ‘I always knew he was an outstanding officer.’
‘Captain! I must write to congratulate him,’ Edmond said.
‘You were in the running for promotion before you got wounded, weren’t you?’ Amy reminded him.
‘I was mentioned in despatches…’ His mind returned to the vulnerable young men in the trenches. He had done his best to maintain morale as he led them into battle.
Soon Katherine arrived, brought over by her uncle and aunt in their chauffeur-driven car. They were a friendly couple who asked after Amy and her husband before setting off again.
Amy hugged her friend and introduced her to Edmond and his family. He greeted her warmly as he shook her hand. Ma and Beatrice looked over the newcomer. Katherine’s curly dark hair was neatly arranged and when she had taken off her outdoor clothes she was wearing a smart cream-coloured woollen dress. As she thanked the family for inviting her, he could tell the other women approved of her refined accent.
Janet brought them coffee and ginger cake.
‘Where’s your little Beth?’ Katherine asked and Amy explained that she was asleep in the nursery but promised to bring her down soon.
Katherine turned her attention to Edmond. ‘I’ve heard so much about you,’ she said, looking him up and down. ‘Are you making a good recovery still?’ As a nurse she would recognise that his complexion was a reasonable colour now and his breathing not too laboured. ‘Were you slightly built before your injury?’
‘Yes, I’ve always been quite slim.’ He was determined to minimise his health problems. He kept as active as possible, trying not to betray how tired he sometimes felt. He would only slow down if he was beginning to get out of breath, for Amy was sure to notice and be concerned. There had been that setback in late October, when they had visited George, their former gardener, who was home on leave. He lived in the industrial area of Wealdham, the nearest town, and the foul, smoky air had hampered Edmond’s breathing, leaving him weak for days afterwards and impeding his recovery.
Until the War is Over Page 2