Until the War is Over

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

  ‘I do feel weary,’ she admitted.

  ‘Are you all right, darling?’ Edmond asked her.

  ‘I think I might have a cold coming. My throat feels sore.’

  They went to bed and soon she was sleeping peacefully. By the following day she was sneezing, and that night her stuffed up nose seemed to be keeping her awake.

  The next day was Wednesday. They got up and began to dress, then she broke off to sneeze a few times and sat down on the bed.

  ‘Are you getting worse?’ Edmond asked.

  ‘I think I’m running a temperature,’ she said.

  He laid his hand on her forehead, which seemed hot. He had a sudden feeling of dread.

  ‘I’d better go back to bed,’ she said. ‘Can you get Beth ready?’

  ‘I will in a minute,’ he said, fully dressed now, ‘but first I’m calling Doctor Stanhope.’

  He rushed downstairs to the telephone. The influenza epidemic was continuing in an alarming manner and it was often fatal. There had been a few more cases in their area. When he had called the doctor, he took Amy a cup of tea and got Beth out of her cot. ‘Dada,’ she said contentedly.

  When she was dressed he took her through to Amy.

  ‘Hello, sweetie,’ she said, blowing a kiss to Beth. ‘Better keep her away from me, darling, I don’t want her catching my germs.’

  Beth began crawling around the floor. Edmond sat on the bed next to Amy, anxious for the doctor to arrive.

  Amy blew her nose a few times.

  ‘How are you feeling now, darling?’ he asked her.

  ‘I haven’t any energy,’ she told him.

  Cook arrived with a breakfast tray, but Amy had little appetite. Edmond spooned food into Beth’s mouth and ate his own breakfast. He was just pouring a second cup of tea for Amy when Doctor Stanhope arrived. He was somewhat stooped and moved slowly, but Larchbury relied on him working while younger doctors served in France.

  ‘It looks as though you have quite a bad cold,’ he told Amy. By now her nostrils were red. He took her pulse and her temperature and listened to her chest with his stethoscope.

  ‘Are you quite certain it’s just a cold?’ Edmond said.

  ‘It’s not the flu, if that’s worrying you,’ he said. ‘Her temperature would be higher.’

  ‘I could have told you it’s just a feverish cold,’ Amy said. ‘Oh, dear, I don’t know if I’ll be well enough for the move on Saturday.’

  ‘You must take it easy for the next week,’ the doctor told her. ‘No exertions.’

  ‘I’ll stay here with you till you’re completely better,’ Edmond told her when the doctor had left.

  ‘No, you mustn’t miss the start of your term!’ she cried, suddenly wide awake. ‘I absolutely insist you go on Saturday. I won’t be there to help you, but Grace will come to clean and you can go to a restaurant for some of your meals. I’ll join you as soon as I can. Perhaps Grace can come for a day or two extra, and prepare some meals for you.’

  ‘If I’m here I can look after Beth for you.’

  ‘My mother will gladly have her to stay with them. Perhaps you should take her there this morning, so she doesn’t run the risk of catching my cold.’

  Gradually she persuaded him he must set out for Cambridge at the weekend on his own. The resumption of his studies would be very different from what he had planned.

  * * *

  For the next two days Amy got up for an hour or two to help Edmond complete his packing and decide which of their joint possessions to have delivered to their house. Her mother telephoned daily around noon from the nearest public phone to assure her that Beth was well. Amy could talk to her daughter down the phone line, though it was mystifying for the little girl.

  ‘I’ve been making arrangements,’ Pa told them later as they sat in the drawing room. ‘I’ve asked Chambers to clean the silver regularly.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Ma said. ‘It’s a reasonable task for a butler.’

  ‘He understands how we’re placed and he’s proving very helpful. He said that if Mrs Johnson cleans the drawing room and dining room on her days here, and the main bedrooms, he’ll sweep the other rooms for us, except the nursery, perhaps.’

  ‘That will certainly help,’ she told him.

  ‘It’s only till we can get another maid. Chambers is ageing now and I should be decreasing his tasks.’

  ‘Amy mustn’t be burdened with extra tasks,’ Edmond said. ‘And besides, she’ll be joining me in Cambridge.’

  How fortunate they are, having the butler’s loyalty and goodwill, Amy thought.

  Early on Saturday Chambers helped Pa load the remainder of Edmond’s belongings into the car. The furniture would be delivered separately.

  ‘Make sure Edmond doesn’t do any heavy work!’ Amy begged Pa as they prepared to set off for Cambridge. ‘He hasn’t got the stamina to heave tables and chairs around, or packing cases.’

  ‘Absolutely. He’s not strong enough.’ Mr Derwent promised to make sure the men unpacked everything and distributed it around the house. He would stay overnight before returning.

  Amy and Edmond embraced before he left. ‘I’ll join you as soon as I can,’ she promised. He got in the car and she waved as Pa drove off. How bereft she felt suddenly.

  * * *

  ‘How you must miss Edmond,’ Florence said when she phoned Amy the following day.

  ‘Yes, but I’m a little better today and I hope we’ll go to Cambridge soon.’ Amy’s voice sounded husky from her cold. ‘Have you heard from James since he went back?’

  ‘Yes, we correspond regularly.’ As she said this, Florence’s sister, Sarah, who was visiting for the day, passed through the hall and glanced at her curiously.

  Florence longed for James’s letters now, anxious about him in a way she had not been until she had realised it was his principles making him determined not to fight. When he had become injured she had begun to understand how dangerous his duties could be.

  Lately she had heard some gossip about Beatrice. ‘I say, Amy, is it true Beatrice has broken off her engagement to Charles?’

  ‘I’m afraid she has.’ Amy sounded dismayed. ‘We were shocked at her decision.’

  ‘Poor Charles.’ She could not find anything pleasant to say in mitigation of Amy’s sister-in-law’s behaviour. ‘I’ll tell James, when I write, and Lavinia, though they might have heard the news already.’

  ‘It’s kind of you to phone,’ Amy said. ‘I was getting bored here without Edmond or Beth.’

  ‘Hurry up and get well!’

  ‘Yes – I want to fetch Beth home as soon as possible.’

  I never told Amy about the other recipient of one of my letters, Florence thought, as she replaced the receiver. She had written a letter to Warrant Officer Fawcett, the confident young American who had driven her back to the coast at the end of her visit to France, remembering his plea for her to write to a soldier far from home. Her letter was brief but amiable, and she had not headed it with her address, so he would not be able to reply. It would be unfair to encourage him. She gathered from the newspapers that the Americans were advancing against the Germans in the Marne area.

  Florence joined her mother and Sarah.

  ‘Are you writing to James, the vicar’s son?’ her sister asked, staring at her as she sat down.

  ‘Yes…’ If only the others in her family could begin to understand his merits. ‘He’s doing valuable work as a medical orderly, and even got injured himself while attending to Captain Shenwood.’

  ‘I’ve heard about your trip to France to see him,’ Sarah said in a disapproving tone. ‘But James refused to fight!’

  ‘This war should never have been started,’ Florence said. ‘You’re very fortunate that your Geoffrey wasn’t called up to fight.’

  Sarah’s husband had been forty at the start of the war, and the shop he ran was well established. Eventually conscription had started, but at first only single men had to sign up. By the time they included marri
ed men he had just passed his forty-second birthday and so need not fight.

  ‘He thinks the same as me, that it was shabby of James not to join a fighting unit,’ Sarah said, choosing to ignore that some men of her husband’s age had volunteered to serve.

  ‘Well he should know better!’ said Florence.

  ‘Now then, Florence, that will do.’ Her mother took Sarah’s view as usual. She was weary of them both looking at her in that critical manner.

  She rose to her feet and hurried out of the parlour, up to her room, and sat down in her easy chair. On her small table she had arranged a bunch of roses in her glass vase. Bertie’s photo was still displayed there, and now she had a small one of James as well. She took refuge in her room more often these days, weary of the company of her family.

  Will they ever accept James? she wondered. They had tried to ignore her Suffragette views as well. James and I are both determined to act according to our values, she thought. Maybe one day the others will understand, but even if they don’t respect our beliefs, they’ll never make us change them.

  It had been nearly a week since she had heard from him. Some nights she found it hard to sleep. She was back in the situation of waiting impatiently for mail, anxious what might become of him. It was like the days when she had been engaged to Bertie. Although her brain had told her that Bertie was risking his life, she had on one level felt that the happy-go-lucky young man was indestructible. The fighting on the Somme had shown her the extent of her mistake.

  The last two years had brought her many reminders of the fragility of life on the Western Front. She remembered Amy saying that she could not look ahead while Edmond had been in France, for the future had seemed like a landscape shrouded in thick fog. Florence could not console herself with the fact that James was a medical orderly, or that recent reports suggested there might soon be victory. Men on bicycles still delivered horrifying telegrams and there was no solace to be had.

  * * *

  Besides her mother and Florence, Amy was soon getting phone calls from Edmond. He had to use a call box as he did not have a telephone installed.

  ‘I’m a lot better now,’ she told him on the Tuesday, wondering if she could join him at the weekend. ‘Is Grace looking after you?’

  ‘Yes, she’s managing well. She’s coming for three days a week at the moment, and she’s making me some meals.’

  Amy was relieved. ‘How’s it going at College?’

  ‘Give me a chance – I’ve only just started back! But I’m finding it stimulating. At last I can put the battlefields behind me and concentrate on my studies.’ He paused. ‘But come as soon as you can, dearest, I miss you so much.’

  ‘You know nothing will keep me away longer than necessary!’ In the long nights she would worry about him, and the emptiness of his side of the bed was hard to bear.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Larchbury, October

  On the Wednesday her mother-in-law asked Amy if she was well enough to go with her to the Working Party in the village hall.

  ‘Not today, I’m afraid. I should go and collect Beth from Mother’s house.’ She was longing to have her back. Every day she missed Beth’s affectionate presence, besides yearning for Edmond.

  ‘That’s a pity. Bea won’t be going so I shall have to attend by myself.’ Beatrice had been unable to avoid hearing gossip about her treatment of Charles. She considered the critical remarks were undeserved.

  That afternoon Mr Derwent drove his wife and Amy into the middle of Larchbury, leaving his wife at the village hall before going on to Sebastopol Terrace.

  ‘Mamma!’ Beth cried in delight as Amy picked her up.

  ‘I’ve missed you so much, sweetie!’ Amy said, kissing her.

  ‘She’s getting a bit snuffly now,’ her mother said. ‘It can’t be your cold, after all this time. I wonder if she picked up an infection when I took her with me to the shops yesterday? Do you think I should have kept her at home?’

  Amy felt Beth’s forehead, which was no warmer than normal, and wiped her nose with a clean handkerchief. ‘It was best to take her out for some air, I think.’

  She wrapped up her daughter well. ‘Are you going to the Working Party?’ she asked Mother.

  ‘It’s rather late to go there now – I’ll give it a miss today.’ She was moving slowly, the way she did when she was tired. She finds Beth hard work, Amy thought, even if she’s too kind to admit it.

  Beth came back with them to The Beeches and Amy spent the rest of the afternoon playing with her, making up for lost time.

  Over the next two days the little girl developed a cough.

  ‘It’s nothing serious,’ Amy told Edmond when he phoned, ‘but I don’t think we should travel to Cambridge until she’s better. It’s a long way and there’s a cold wind.’ She wished Pa had a more modern car, instead of an open one.

  ‘I suppose I’ll have to manage without you a little longer,’ he said, sounding forlorn.

  ‘How are you settling?’

  ‘There’s a chap called Horace on my course,’ he said, more brightly. ‘He’s the younger brother of someone I knew when I was here before. He was excused conscription because of his eyesight. He’s living in a rented room nearby and he’s got a telephone. He says I can give you his number, then in an emergency you can contact him and he can pass on the message, instead of you having to wait for me to ring.’

  ‘That’s a wonderful idea.’ She wrote down the number he gave her. They went on talking until he ran out of pennies for the telephone.

  * * *

  The following morning as they were eating breakfast Beatrice received a letter from France. ‘Is that from someone I know?’ her mother could not resist asking.

  Beatrice used a knife to open it, a satisfied smile appearing on her face.

  ‘It’s from Major Wilfrid Fairlawn,’ she said.

  Amy stopped spooning food to Beth as a jolt of dismay ran through her. With difficulty she managed to avoid commenting. No-one else at the table knew of her appalling experience in Ypres, when Wilfrid had assaulted her.

  ‘He was staying at our hotel when we were in London,’ Pa said, shooting Beatrice a questioning look, as though critical that, having broken off her engagement so recently, she was already corresponding with another officer.

  ‘He begged me to write to him,’ Beatrice said. ‘You know how soldiers long to receive letters.’

  ‘They’re a very distinguished family,’ Ma approved.

  Amy abandoned the rest of her breakfast and took Beth off to the nursery, still climbing the stairs awkwardly. By what horrific failure of judgement had Beatrice given up Charles, only to pursue her acquaintance with Wilfrid? At least the man was in France now, lacking the opportunity to spend time with her.

  The morning was quite mild, so Amy took Beth out in her pram, wandering along the paths in the grounds for a while and urging young Joe to pick some of the remaining apples in the kitchen garden. As she walked slowly back to the house she resolved to speak to Beatrice: it would be unfair to leave her in ignorance of Wilfrid’s behaviour. She pushed the pram up the slope to the sunny veranda, left Beth there, and went in search of her sister-in-law.

  Once inside the house she could hear Beatrice’s confident piano playing. She joined her in the drawing room, thankful she was on her own.

  ‘May I have a word?’ she asked at the end of the piece.

  ‘What do you want?’ Beatrice frowned at the interruption. She was elegant as ever in a lacy blouse and dark skirt which emphasized her tiny waist.

  ‘It’s about Wilfrid Fairlawn.’ Heavens, she thought, this isn’t going to be easy.

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘I just thought you should know that in Flanders he has a very bad reputation. I understand he’s liable to make unwanted advances to nurses.’

  Her delicately arched eyebrows shot up. ‘You must be mistaken. I don’t know where you’ve heard such a thing. How dare you blacken his name!’

&n
bsp; ‘Listen, Beatrice, I’m not trying to persuade you to marry Charles. You may write to whoever you like, and marry whoever you like, and I wish you well, but I strongly advise you to keep Captain Fairlawn at a distance.’

  ‘He’s Major Fairlawn now, didn’t you know?’ she snapped.

  ‘Yes, I remember now, Major Fairlawn. I know he’s got an impressive war record.’

  ‘You don’t even know his rank! I’ve known Wilfrid since we were both children, though I lost touch while he was away fighting. He’s from a very good family and has had an outstanding military career, like his father.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Ah yes, I understand now what all this is about. Colonel Fairlawn was the one who wanted you sent to jail, wasn’t he, after that disgraceful incident when you and your Suffragette friends damaged the cricket pavilion. I can see how embarrassing it might be for you if we continue to socialise with the family.’

  Amy gasped. She could see now that her warning about Wilfrid might give that impression. ‘No, you’re wrong. Of course it would be awkward if I had to meet Colonel Fairlawn, and it would be my own fault, but it’s his son I’m telling you about. I thought it was only right to warn you.’

  Beatrice’s greenish eyes were blazing now. ‘Just who do you think you are?’ she sneered. ‘You’re just a schoolteacher’s daughter and you’ve never moved in our social circle, at least not till you became involved with Edmond. We’ve always moved among families with a good status. How dare you think you’re entitled to attack them on the basis of some gossip you’ve heard among your nursing friends – probably from some foolish girl who’s led him on.’

  Amy struggled to keep calm. She wanted to tell Beatrice how unjustly she was describing Wilfrid’s victim. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands to avoid making some kind of incoherent outburst. That would make her sister-in-law even less likely to believe her. ‘I assure you that a woman I know well was assaulted by him,’ she explained as patiently as she could, ‘although she’d made it very clear to him that his advances were unwelcome.’