Afterwards several crowded around James to greet him. Ma and Beatrice were anxious to return home. ‘I’ll take them, then come back for you,’ Pa said to Amy and Edmond. They had left Beth with Ellen.
‘I’ll take them back in the pony trap,’ Uncle Arthur told him. As other churchgoers set off home, he invited them to the vicarage, along with Florence, and Amy’s parents.
* * *
It was a merry group who sat in the vicarage parlour drinking sherry.
‘How much leave have you got?’ Amy asked her cousin.
‘Only four more days, but I might be able to get some more around Christmas or the New Year.’
‘We’ll spend time together when I’m not at work,’ Florence said, her face dimpling.
There was much to talk about, for James was interested to hear about Edmond’s experiences at university.
‘Is Frank Bentley still in France?’ Edmond asked. ‘It’ll be good to see him when he can come home.’ He had been one of his first comrades.
‘Yes, he’s still there – his unit is further east now, of course. He’s managed to get through the war, though he got some shrapnel in his leg at Passchendaele. What about Captain Shenwood? Is he recovering well now he’s in Blighty?’
‘He’s making good progress,’ Edmond said.
There was an uneasy silence. Amy suspected James had heard about Beatrice breaking their engagement, but restrained himself from criticising Edmond’s sister. Amy would have liked to tell him about his new involvement with Lavinia, but the news was not yet official.
As lunchtime approached Uncle Arthur took them back to The Beeches in the pony trap.
‘People are more tolerant of James now,’ Amy said.
‘They’ve heard how brave he’s been,’ her uncle said.
‘Gradually some of them are coming to share his view that the war was wrong,’ she said.
‘Not wrong, exactly,’ Edmond said. ‘Once it started, once the Kaiser’s troops began to invade other nations, I believe we needed to fight. But it should never have been started. The statesmen should have foreseen that it would be catastrophic and come to some agreement to avert it.’
Edmond had to leave immediately after Sunday luncheon to get back to Cambridge. ‘Not long now to Christmas vacation,’ he said to Amy.
‘Don’t forget I’m coming to Cambridge to see you next weekend,’ Peter said, just before he roared off on his bike.
* * *
The following morning Ellen brought Beth down and went to eat in the kitchen with the staff. In between eating mouthfuls of her own breakfast, Amy began spooning food to Beth. Peter was completing his meal.
‘Pa’s rushed off to his study to work,’ he said, looking up from the newspaper. Beatrice and her mother were normally last to appear unless one of them had an appointment.
‘We had a long talk on Saturday night,’ Peter told Amy. The brothers would have sat drinking port with their father. ‘Edmond is able to unburden himself of his memories when he’s with me, and Pa tells us not to spare him our accounts of the war.’
‘Edmond was very calm when he came to bed that night,’ she said. ‘I think talking about it helps him come to terms with everything that has happened.’
‘I’ve only been to the Front as an observer, not actually had to face the enemy or live in those conditions,’ Peter said, ‘but I’ve heard a great deal about life there, enough to listen to Edmond without flinching from the details.’
Just then Beatrice came in and sat down languidly. She rang for Cook to bring her coffee. Her mother soon followed her into the room.
‘There’s some news to interest you, Bea,’ Peter told her. ‘There’s an engagement announcement in the paper. Charles Shenwood is to marry Lavinia Westholme.’
‘What!’ Beatrice cried, breaking off from nibbling an apple.
‘It’s hardly any time since he was engaged to Beatrice!’ said her mother.
‘Lavinia told me about it while I was in hospital,’ Amy said, ‘but I was not at liberty to mention it until the official announcement.’ For a moment she dreaded Lavinia wearing the same ring Charles had given Beatrice, but her sister-in-law had dainty hands, so there was little chance it would fit.
‘I suppose it’ll be good for Lavinia that she has a husband,’ Mrs Derwent said. ‘She’s such a gawky young woman.’
‘At least Charles will have a wife who’s accustomed to looking after invalids,’ Beatrice observed, but for a moment she looked regretful.
Ellen arrived to take Beth up to the nursery. The baby’s energetic walking was an annoyance to Mrs Derwent if they occupied the same room. Amy relied on the nanny to carry Beth, for she needed her hands free to go around on her crutches.
‘I’ll come upstairs in a minute,’ she told Ellen.
When she had finished her breakfast, Peter followed her out of the room.
‘I don’t think you should worry too much about Edmond,’ he said. ‘You saw how happy he was when he surprised us on the motorbike. He’s getting his old spirit back.’
* * *
Amy was listening for the sound of the bike when Edmond returned for Christmas. She hurried to the front door to greet him, more accustomed now to her plaster. Beneath it her leg was hurting less and she was growing optimistic that the ankle might be better.
‘At last you’re home!’ she cried. ‘And in the New Year, surely nothing can stop me and Beth returning to Cambridge with you.’
In high spirits they set out for church on Christmas Day morning. Pa was making two trips in the car, and Amy and Edmond were in the first group.
She walked up the path outside St Stephen’s while Edmond carried Beth, well wrapped up in her shawl. Someone touched Amy’s arm, and there stood Florence, who must have rushed to catch them up.
‘Won’t this be a joyful service!’ Amy said. ‘All the fighting is over!’
Once inside, they found the church more lavishly decorated with greenery than in recent years, and blazing with light from dozens of candles. All the same, she detected a slight edge to the atmosphere, as though something was wrong.
On the way to the Derwent pew near the front she stopped to greet her parents.
‘Have you heard about Philip Brownlee?’ Mother said.
‘The young airman?’
‘Yes, poor chap. He crashed his plane two days ago. He was on a routine flight to an airfield nearer the coast. They say he’s badly injured, but should recover.’
Florence was beside Amy and had heard the news. Her face looked frozen with shock. ‘He was convalescing at the same time as James, in the converted casino,’ she said. ‘How dreadful that he’s had another accident!’
Amy caught sight of the young man’s parents and sister, Caroline, standing hunched and subdued in a nearby pew.
Edmond looked drawn, equally upset that another young man should suffer, just when the conflict was over. ‘It all seems so pointless,’ he said. ‘And Henry Smith is still missing, isn’t he?’
The brother of George and Joe had gone missing in action near the end of the war, and there was still no sign of him.
What should have been an exultant service needed once more to include a prayer for a badly injured man in the forces and one who was still unaccounted for.
* * *
Just after Christmas Mr Derwent took Amy and Edmond to London so she could have her plaster removed. Mr Westholme was back in France and it was arranged that she would see the doctor who had attended to her the previous year.
Ma was still lethargic from the flu, but recovered enough for Pa to feel confident at leaving her for the day, with Beatrice and Daisy to give her any help she needed. He dropped them outside St Luke’s hospital and went to meet a business contact, after arranging a time to return. As they walked towards the sombre brick hospital Amy could not hold back her tears.
‘Are you frightened, darling?’ Edmond put his arm around her.
‘It’s not that. I was thinking of Katherine. We bot
h trained here, and she met me here last year when I had my plaster removed.’
‘I’m sorry, darling. She was a great loss.’
They walked into the main entrance. The hospital seemed less busy now the war was over. Amy limped along the tiled corridor towards the Fracture Clinic, sniffing a little but trying to compose herself for Edmond’s benefit.
After a short wait they were called into the treatment room. Edmond sat in a chair, smiling at her encouragingly. The orthopaedic surgeon chatted to her as the nursing staff carefully cut off her plaster.
‘I remember you from last year,’ he said, looking a little concerned.
Her leg and ankle looked swollen, as they had done the previous year.
‘How does it feel?’ he asked her.
‘My ankle’s stiff – well, I expected that – but the shape of my leg looks normal now.’ She felt confident that the bones were correctly aligned.
The nurse took her arm while she put her foot to the floor. It felt reassuringly normal. ‘It’s so much better!’ she cried. Edmond broke into a grin.
She removed the shoe from her good foot and walked across the room. At last her left foot could go flat on the floor with little strain. She felt her face ease into a smile as she turned and walked back again. ‘It’s much improved from last time!’ she cried.
She sat down and put back her lace-up shoe on her right foot. She went behind a screen to put a stocking on the injured foot. Edmond got up and gently helped her ease her other shoe on to the left foot. He laced it very loosely, just enough to hold it over the swollen area.
The medical team looked delighted as she left the clinic. She and Edmond set off back to the lobby, to wait for Pa, and found Lavinia there, anxious to see how the appointment had gone. She took off the shoe to inspect Amy’s leg and was satisfied.
‘Thank your father for making it almost as good as new,’ Amy said.
‘Promise me you’ll rest it for most of each day until it’s completely healed,’ Lavinia urged her.
‘I’ll make sure she behaves,’ Edmond said. ‘Lavinia, I’m so pleased to hear about you and Charles. You’ll make a fine couple.’
Amy was thankful he was not looking too surprised at how rapidly Charles had moved on.
‘Have you heard about Philip Brownlee?’ Lavinia said suddenly.
‘Yes, everyone in Larchbury is talking about his accident,’ Amy said.
‘Alice, Charles’s younger sister, has become very attached to the boy,’ Lavinia said.
‘Your father is over there, I imagine,’ Edmond said.
‘He’s at a hospital some distance away from Philip, unfortunately.’
Pa arrived and invited Lavinia to lunch with them. ‘Where shall we go?’ he mused.
Edmond reminded him that the hotel where Amy and he had spent their all too brief honeymoon was nearby. ‘Might we go there?’ he asked.
They all set off in excellent spirits.
‘Remember how we had to rush away last time!’ Amy could not help saying as the glass doors were opened to admit them to its smart foyer. After she and Edmond had married at their second attempt, he had ignored an order telling him to return early to France, so that they could spend their wedding night together.
‘I got soundly punished for my disobedience,’ he reminded them. ‘They stopped my leave for months afterwards.’
‘Yes – it was almost unbearable that we had to spend so long apart.’
They sat down once more in the elegant restaurant. Several officers were dining there, some with members of their family. The waiter recommended the roast lamb.
As Lavinia removed her gloves, Amy noticed her pretty but modest ring with three small diamonds. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘The ring Beatrice wore was a family heirloom, and someone in the family has it back. Charles had a few rings brought to the hospital from Hatton Garden and we chose one for me.’
As they began with soup Lavinia told them that he had been to Roehampton to be measured for artificial limbs. Then he had spent two weeks at a convalescent hospital before going home to his family.
‘I stayed with them over Christmas,’ she said. ‘On fine days we went out riding. Charles needs help to mount but he loves to go around on horseback.’
‘I should go over and see him one day,’ Edmond said, as the lamb was served. ‘There’s not much time before I go back to Cambridge.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Larchbury, London and Alderbank, December
Next morning Florence phoned Amy and was thrilled to hear that her leg was much better.
‘Will you be able to dance?’ she asked. The party at The Beeches was only two days away.
‘I hope so,’ she said, ‘but everyone is telling me not to take any chances.’
‘Perhaps you should do as they say. How long will it take for the pain and swelling to go?’
‘It should be noticeably better by the time we go to Cambridge. Is there any chance James will be back on leave in time for the party?’
‘Yes! He should be on his way by now. I’m hoping he’ll arrive today.’ What a joyous occasion it would be.
Soon after her phone call, Florence was sitting in the parlour when the post arrived. ‘There’s a strange letter for you,’ her mother said, passing her an envelope with unfamiliar dark blue handwriting. It had come from France and was addressed simply to
Florence Clifford, Larchbury, Sussex, England.
She tore open the envelope, curious to see its contents, and gasped when she read who it was from.
‘Dear Florence’, it said,
How wonderful that the war is over now! Thank you so much for your letters, which cheered me in our last difficult days fighting the Huns.
My unit is still stationed near the Marne, but we are to be allowed leave. I’m planning to come over to England, with a comrade. We are longing to visit London.
And while we’re there, dear Florence, I’m planning on coming to see you! I can’t wait to see where you live, and spend some time with you.
Your admirer,
Caleb Fawcett
Florence sucked her lip.
‘Who’s it from, dear?’
‘An American soldier I met in France,’ she said awkwardly, wishing her mother had not seen it arrive.
Mother frowned. ‘An American? You mean you’ve been writing to him as well as to James?’
She explained the limited extent of her correspondence. ‘I didn’t expect to hear from him. As you see, I never gave him my address.’
Why had she revealed that she lived somewhere called Larchbury? She tried to remember him from that brief afternoon in his company. He had been friendly and confident, she recalled, and had seemed quite determined. Would he really come here looking for her?
She put the letter back in its envelope. Mother was more prepared to accept James now. Probably she had realised that Florence’s marriage prospects were poor, now so many young men had been lost. She seemed satisfied with Florence’s account of her meeting with Caleb and did not pursue the matter.
There was a knock at the front door. Mother went to answer it and a moment later James strode into the room, carrying a vivid amber-coloured bunch of chrysanthemums.
‘Oh! It’s you!’ Florence rushed into his arms. ‘I didn’t expect you so early.’ As he kissed her, his lips were cold from the chill December morning. His embrace threatened to squash the flowers. ‘What lovely chrysanths,’ she said, taking the blooms from him. ‘Mother, we should light the fire in here.’
‘Of course! I’ll see to it.’ Normally they left lighting it to slightly later in the day.
Florence placed the flowers carefully on the side table, hoping he would not notice the strange form of address on the envelope containing her letter.
‘We reached the port in good time and came back overnight,’ James told her. ‘I haven’t even been home to my parents yet.’
She snuggled into his arms. ‘You’ll need a warm drink in a minute, or
maybe some sherry,’ she said. She needed to find a vase as well. Mother was fetching coal as their maid did not work that day.
‘I’m thrilled to be back with you again,’ he said.
‘How long can you stay over here?’
‘I’ve got a whole week!’
She wished she had put on a newer dress and paid more attention to her hair. She sat down on the sofa and he sat beside her and put his arm around her as she basked in the delight of seeing him again.
When Mother returned with the coal James insisted on building the fire and starting it for her. Then Mother went to make some tea.
‘I’ll never forget that day you arrived at the convalescent hospital to see me,’ James told her gently, sitting beside her once more.
‘It was a shock, visiting France in those conditions, but I’ll never regret coming to see you… But James, have you heard about Philip Brownlee?’
‘Yes,’ he said sadly, ‘they’re doing what they can to help him but I hear he’s badly smashed up.’
‘I was appalled that he’d been in another accident!’
‘Yes. He’d recovered, so he was flying again, then he crashed. They say it was foggy that day. It’s desperately sad.’ He leant across and kissed her.
This should be a happy day, Florence thought. I must put those gorgeous flowers in water. She reached for the nearest vase, arranged them hastily, and hurriedly went for water for them. I must savour our time together.
As for Caleb, I won’t mention him. If he ever reaches England he’ll arrive in London and with luck he’ll have such a good time there he won’t actually come out to Sussex.
* * *
‘I want to drive over to see Charles today,’ Edmond said next morning. It was not far to his family home near Alderbank. ‘I can go on my bike.’
‘I’ll come with you!’ Amy cried.
‘Do you think you should?’ He hated to question her enthusiasm, but her leg was still a little swollen and he knew some of her shoes were uncomfortable. ‘Perhaps you should rest your ankle again.’ She was meant to spend some time each day on the sofa with her leg raised.
Until the War is Over Page 24