Until the War is Over

by Until the War is Over (retail) (epub)

  Edmond was looking stricken now.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Beatrice demanded. ‘Is his other leg affected too?’

  ‘I believe it is.’

  She chewed her lip, clearly concerned at the disquieting news. ‘How dreadful. How badly will he be handicapped?’ she asked. The room had gone quiet.

  ‘I think you should discuss that with Captain Shenwood and the doctors. Give him a little while to settle in after the journey, though.’

  ‘Yes, I must go and see him!’ she said. ‘Can you take me to London one day soon, Pa?’

  * * *

  Edmond and Amy spent the next few days preparing for their move: there was much to organise. As they packed books into a tea-chest Beth was crawling around the floor again and occasionally seizing a chair leg and trying to pull herself up. ‘She’ll be walking before long,’ Amy said one morning.

  Presently they went out for a stroll around the grounds with Beth in her pram. The sunshine was driving away the last of the early mist.

  When they returned to the house, raised voices were coming from the kitchen. Amy headed towards the commotion. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.

  ‘No, far from it,’ her mother-in-law said from a kitchen chair. Her eyebrows rose towards her hairline. ‘Janet’s just told me this is her last day.’

  ‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Derwent, but I did give my notice two weeks ago. You have it in my written letter.’ The maid looked respectful but determined.

  ‘Quite so, but I’ve been unable to find a replacement.’ They had already lost Mary, their kitchen maid, when she had taken a job at the inn, replacing a man who had joined up.

  ‘I have to go and help with my sister’s family,’ Janet said steadily. Amy had heard her say a few days earlier that her sister was very ill with tuberculosis. ‘The neighbours have been helping so far, but they have their own families to attend to. I’ll have to leave today, as I arranged.’ She looked at Amy. ‘They’re my family,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, I understand,’ Amy said. Copper pans gleamed on the range.

  ‘You’re placing me in a very difficult position,’ her mistress said, standing up, hands on hips. ‘Where am I supposed to find another maid suddenly in wartime?’ She turned to Amy. ‘Do you think Mrs Johnson would come here every day?’

  ‘I don’t think so. She has her own house to run. But she might manage an extra day or two, at least for a short while to allow you to find a replacement. There’s Elsie, too. Now the harvesting is nearly finished they might spare her from her work on the land.’

  ‘That scatter-brained creature?’ Besides her farm work she had been coming to The Beeches once a week. ‘When she was here earlier this week she couldn’t stop yawning. She can barely cope with doing the laundry once a week and peeling vegetables,’ Ma said. ‘I wouldn’t trust her with anything else.’

  ‘Perhaps I can help a bit, till we move,’ Amy said.

  ‘That wouldn’t be suitable at all,’ her mother-in-law told her.

  ‘I might just manage some of the lightest duties,’ she said. ‘Remember Edmond and I won’t complain if there’s a little dust, or we need to make our own bed. We’ve been in France and we’re used to making do in difficult circumstances.’

  ‘One must try to maintain standards,’ asserted Ma.

  * * *

  The journey back to London tending to all their sick charges had been tiring for Lavinia. She had found time to chat to James and noticed the spring in his step at the prospect of seeing Florence again.

  ‘Will you get much time here before you return?’ he had asked her.

  ‘Only a couple of days, I think.’ She could not be certain, for there was talk that the London hospitals were short of nurses and requesting help from any who could be spared from work overseas. She would like to keep in contact with Charles. They had grown closer while they were preparing the concert, and he was still grateful for her joining him in their piano duet. Not long after their performance a fragrant bouquet of white roses had arrived for her; she heard he had asked Orderly Cole to arrange for them to be sent.

  It had seemed like fate that she had been one of the staff detailed to travel back with Charles and some other invalids from Flanders. There was a shortage of ships and they had had to wait for two days in a hospital near the coast. In her very limited free time she had liked to sit with him in the dayroom.

  However, by her second day in London she had been given her orders to return to her hospital near the French coast, on the Thursday. She went home to see her mother, but returned on Wednesday to visit Charles in his London hospital. Of course she could never be more than a friend to him, but she was anxious to check he was settling well.

  ‘Lavinia! How good to see you,’ he said, smiling. He was sitting in a chair by his bed, with a blanket over his legs, and looked a little pale. His body must still be adjusting to his severe injuries.

  ‘How are you feeling? The journey was taxing.’

  ‘I’m getting better gradually. You nurses have been so supportive, you especially.’

  ‘It’s our job.’

  ‘I’ve heard from Beatrice!’ His face lightened. ‘She’s coming to London to see me.’

  ‘That’s excellent news.’ Her words were less than sincere, but his fiancée, pretty and elegant, was the one he longed to see, and the one who had inspired him in the worst of his suffering.

  ‘When do you return to France?’ he asked.

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘All the best, Lavinia.’

  * * *

  Amy gathered that James visited Florence soon after his arrival, and then met her when she finished her teaching on the Monday and Tuesday. Pa drove her and Edmond to see him off to France again on Wednesday morning.

  Further down the platform Elsie was embracing Henry Smith, whose leave was also ending.

  ‘Those two have been seen together a lot,’ Florence remarked. She had obtained permission to take the morning off and clung to James’s arm until the train arrived.

  * * *

  The following Saturday they held the fête at The Beeches. The involvement of the schoolchildren had ensured it was well supported.

  ‘Don’t some of them look healthy and tanned, after their summer working on the farms,’ Florence said. ‘At last there was some fine weather in August.’ She was walking around the stalls with Amy, and taking turns at carrying Beth.

  Amy told her about the Watson girls getting sunburn, but agreed that the outdoor activity had suited some of the children.

  A group of the younger ones, some from Florence’s class, began singing a folk song.

  ‘I’m spending the day with my parents after church tomorrow,’ Amy told her.

  ‘I haven’t forgotten – it’ll be the second anniversary of Bertie’s death, won’t it? May I join you there?’

  ‘Of course – we thought you’d want to come.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten Bertie, you know. I never will.’ Florence’s eyes filled with tears.

  ‘You won’t, and neither will I.’

  Florence wiped her eyes. She seemed to find it difficult to go on. ‘Does it seem fickle to you that I’m interested in James now?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course not. That’s what Bertie would want for you. My parents think the same.’

  Presently they joined Edmond, who was sitting with his parents in a wicker chair on the upper lawn as Cook served them tea and seedcake.

  Beatrice rushed up suddenly. ‘I can’t stay at Harriet’s when I go to London,’ she told them anxiously. ‘When I telephoned their house the butler told me the family are all away on holiday.’

  ‘Never mind, darling – I’ll book us rooms in a hotel,’ Pa told her.

  ‘I’m going to the hospital to see Charles on Monday,’ she explained to Florence.

  ‘I do hope he’s making a good recovery.’

  ‘If you decide to stay longer I can arrange it,’ Pa assured Beatrice.

  ‘I might get the ch
ance to shop for some more of my trousseau,’ she said brightly.

  Edmond passed the seedcake to his sister and her mother poured her some tea.

  ‘If only the war ends soon,’ Beatrice said. ‘How I’d love to go to France for our honeymoon!’

  ‘It was delightful in Nice when we made that trip before the war,’ her mother agreed.

  ‘Yes – and Charles told me he’s visited Paris. How simply wonderful it would be to go there!’

  ‘France is very changed from the way it was before the war,’ Florence told her.

  ‘But it’s northern France that’s suffered all the bombardments, surely,’ Beatrice said.

  ‘Peter visited Paris when he had leave,’ her mother reminded her.

  ‘So did Charles – that’s where he bought me that lovely shawl. You see? It would be perfect.’

  Edmond had been looking at her curiously. ‘It might be months before Charles is fit enough to travel!’ he said forcibly.

  Amy had been thinking the same.

  Beatrice looked put out. ‘Then we’ll just have to wait, I suppose,’ she said.

  ‘Better be prepared for that, darling,’ said her father.

  ‘I’ll visit him often and keep him cheerful.’

  There was a sudden burst of sound from bugles, as the Scouts prepared for their parade. Ma put her hands over her ears as they began marching along the lower lawn below, their uniforms smart and their feet in step.

  Chapter Thirteen

  London and Larchbury, September

  Beatrice wrinkled her nose at the smell of disinfectant as she and her father walked along the hospital corridors. Pa had driven them to London and booked them into a comfortable West End hotel where they had stayed before. Now it was Monday morning and he had driven them to the hospital. On the way she had been turning over her plans for her marriage. At present Charles lived with his family in their large house near Alderbank, but he had spoken of buying his own house after the war; he had inherited some money from his grandfather. How she would love choosing the furnishings! And they would enjoy entertaining friends, for they deserved some fun after all the dismal years.

  Nurses, in their drab, unflattering uniform, bustled past as they followed the signs to Charles’s ward.

  The place looked vaguely familiar. ‘Is this the hospital where Edmond came when they sent him back from France?’ she asked her father.

  ‘Yes. I expect Charles is in one of the wards for officers.’

  When they found it, there were four beds in his small ward, three of them occupied. At first she looked blankly from one injured man to another.

  ‘Beatrice! How wonderful! I’ve been longing to see you.’

  She had failed to recognise him for a moment, sitting up in bed. His face looked pale and haggard compared with the handsome captain she so loved.

  ‘Darling!’ she cried, rushing towards him. ‘Are you really getting better? It’s been so long since I last saw you.’

  Her father took Charles’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. Beatrice took off her leather gloves and let Charles seize her hand. She sat down in the chair beside his bed and unbuttoned her jacket with her free hand.

  ‘You’ve scarcely been out of my thoughts,’ he told her, fixing his dark eyes on hers. ‘All the time I’ve been stuck in hospital I’ve lived to see you again.’

  She was glad she was wearing her best suit and her hat with the ostrich feathers. Her heart leapt at the realisation of how much he cared for her. All the same, seeing him still in hospital so long after his injury that spring was disturbing. ‘Do you still need to stay in bed?’ she asked.

  A nurse was helping one of the other patients, who had a bandage around his forehead, get up and sit in a nearby chair. The man looked at Beatrice admiringly.

  ‘They allow me to get up for part of each day,’ Charles assured her. ‘Listen, Beatrice, has anyone told you about my second operation? My wounds didn’t heal as well as they hoped.’

  ‘You had a second operation?’

  ‘We haven’t heard about that,’ her father said. ‘How dreadful for you.’

  Charles clutched her hand, where the diamonds in her engagement ring sparkled brightly. ‘I need to explain to you the extent of my injuries,’ he said, looking at her intently.

  Her father looked from one to the other of them. ‘I’ll leave you two to talk,’ he said. ‘I’ll be waiting outside.’

  Panic gripped her, for Charles seemed to be preparing her for bad news.

  ‘I heard you lost your right foot and part of your leg,’ she said faintly, trying not to think too hard about how he was changed from the dashing officer she had agreed to marry less than a year earlier.

  ‘That’s right. They hoped my left leg would heal well, but then I’m afraid I had a setback. I expect you’ve heard how infections can break out before a wound has a chance to fully heal. They had to take off part of my left foot as well.’

  The room seemed to spin round. ‘Oh, no – that’s awful! How will you get around? I suppose you’ll need wooden legs, or artificial limbs of some kind – Edmond and Amy told me better products are becoming available…’

  ‘That’s right. Trust me, I’ll get as mobile as I can, but I won’t be the healthy officer you used to know, who could walk well and dance.’

  She struggled for words to say.

  ‘But remember how well Edmond has recovered,’ he told her. ‘He’s my inspiration. With Amy at his side he’s making a new life for himself. He told me he was determined to study and have a career – anything less would seem like allowing the Germans to defeat him.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  The patient sitting beside his bed seemed engrossed in a book, while the third occupant of the ward was fast asleep.

  ‘I can travel around by car, though I expect I’ll need a chauffeur. For short distances I’m happy on my horse. Before the war I began to study to be a solicitor and I plan to continue with that.’

  ‘I can see you’re being very brave.’

  He was looking at her intently again. ‘You must understand my wounds are unsightly,’ he said. ‘In time they’ll look less raw, and they won’t show when I’m kitted out with artificial appliances and fully dressed, but as my wife you’ll have to see them.’

  She gasped. How could life be so cruel?

  ‘So I’m afraid you’ll need to face that, if you’re to marry me,’ he told her solemnly. ‘It’s fair to say that I’m no longer the man you agreed to marry last Christmas. If you decide you want to break off the engagement I’ll understand. I’ll give you your liberty if that’s what you’d prefer.’

  ‘Oh – no – I still want to marry you,’ she found herself saying automatically. Ever since they had become engaged she had looked forward to the thrilling day when he would become her husband. Her wedding gown was ordered and the guest list only needed to be finally agreed. How could she set aside that dream?

  ‘Think about it,’ he insisted. ‘I’ve got to receive treatment for a few more months, including being fitted with appliances and practising getting around with them. We shouldn’t get married until after that, so it will be some time next year. But if you decide you’d rather marry a healthy man I’ll release you from the engagement without any bad feelings.’

  ‘No,’ she said softly, ‘of course I’ll stick by you.’ This appalling war had lasted four years now and she had heard about disfigurements. This was what people did in these circumstances, wasn’t it?

  * * *

  ‘What’s the matter, Beatrice: you look awful,’ Pa asked her as they left. ‘What’s the position with Charles? Has he needed surgery on his other leg?’

  ‘Yes.’ She faltered as she told him the details. ‘In fact, he offered to release me from the engagement.’

  They got back into the car. ‘I’m sorry, Bea, that’s dreadful news. But I’m sure you’ll stick by him and help him make a new life. He’ll be brave and resourceful like Edmond and everyone will admire him.’r />
  ‘To think he’ll never be able to dance again!’ she cried. ‘Imagine how hard it will be for him to wander along a seaside promenade on a fine day.’ As she pictured him sitting forlornly in a corner of a room, hampered if he wished to move elsewhere, she could not help reflecting on all the things they had planned to do together and how much their future was changed.

  As they reached the hotel she was subdued. She changed into an evening dress before they went down to dinner. She did not feel like eating much.

  The restaurant had flowers and soft lighting from candelabra. It was not as full as sometimes and many of the men were in uniform. A few of them looked at her admiringly as she took her place with Pa and ordered consommé followed by chicken.

  He began asking her about Charles’s future prospects and she told him what she remembered of his plans to be fitted with artificial limbs. A tall man in an officer’s uniform was sitting alone at a nearby table and smiled as she met his glance. Have I met him before somewhere, she wondered. Yes, I know him socially, I’m certain now.

  She finished most of the consommé and picked at her chicken and sipped a little wine. Her mind was still reeling with Charles’s news. She told Pa she would not eat anything else but did not mind if he wanted a dessert. He ordered cheese and a glass of port, besides coffee for them both.

  The tall man finished his meal, got up and headed in their direction. ‘Mr Derwent – Beatrice – how lovely to see you!’ he said confidently.

  As he shook hands with them she remembered he was Captain Wilfrid Fairlawn, the colonel’s son.

  ‘I’m here on leave for a few days,’ he told her. He was broad shouldered and towered over them.

  She had not seen him since around about the start of the war, she thought. In fact she believed they had spoken at the fête in September 1914, when he had accompanied his father on the recruiting campaign.