All I Have to Give (17 page)

‘Oh dear. Lady Muriel was taken to be the heir. She didn’t know any different. It was thought that there were no known male relatives of Lord Daverly, and so she inherited Hastleford
Hall and all that went with it! What do we do now? I . . . I mean: what does Jay want to happen? Does he want to claim his inheritance from my aunt?’

As she waited for a reply, Eloise thought that the whole thing was despicable, and part of her felt glad that she was only related to her Aunt Muriel’s family by marriage, as what they had
done was abhorrent to her.

‘I’m not sure. But before this whole situation, he wanted to let people know the truth, so that he could—’

‘Marry Andrina? Oh dear, it is such a tragedy. My dear sis – sister.’ The tears that had threatened to flow while hearing Jay’s story now spilled over. Sobs racked
Eloise’s body. Two large arms encircled her, and although on any other occasion she would consider this inappropriate, she welcomed the comfort they gave, but did not miss the heaving of Mrs
Tattumby’s big body as she joined her tears with those of Eloise.

As she laid her head on the soft cushion of Mrs Tattumby’s breast, exhaustion took over every bone in her body.
How am I to deal with all of this? How can I put it onto my dear aunt
and uncle at such a time? Does Aunt Muriel know of Jay?
But then an even more disgusting thought entered her:
Does my father know the truth?
No, he couldn’t, could he? Then it
came to her that this is what Father was referring to, when he said that Jay felt like family and that he’d had suspicions.
Oh dear, it is all such a mess. Such a tragic, tragic mess . .
. Andrina gone forever. Edith, God knows where – and even whether she is safe. And now Jay, desperately ill and having been forced to live a life that he was not born to; and all in a silent
world.

‘Look, M’lady, it ain’t much, and it don’t condone what I did, but let me tell you: Jay has had a happier life with me than he would ever have had in an orphanage –
or with them lot, if I had taken him back to them. Even if they had accepted him, the moment they found out about his deafness, they would have had him committed to an institution and he would have
spent his life locked up; he wouldn’t have had the life he was entitled to. And that Lady Muriel would still have inherited.’

Eloise hadn’t thought of this angle, but she could see it was a possibility. Many rich and powerful families did lock away any children who were crippled or maimed in any way. And, knowing
Aunt Muriel’s family, this was most likely what they would have done with Jay, if confronted with who he really was.

The thought brought some comfort, and she realized it was probably behind Jay forgiving this woman. Well, she herself couldn’t forgive her aunt’s family, and something had to be done
to put right the wrongs they had done to Jay. But she didn’t know what this would be, as she was not yet in control of her emotions – they were so swayed by her grief that they
didn’t allow for decision-making.

For now, Eloise just wanted to stay encircled in the arms of this loving woman. For no matter what Mrs Tattumby had done, she was certainly that: a loving and kind woman, whose actions might
have been misguided, but who had ultimately enabled Jay to be saved from what his own family might have done to him.

A deserted farm, France, mid-August 1916
Finding the depths of love

Despite her pleas over the last four weeks, Albert had refused to listen to her. It had been a gruelling journey, tramping miles and miles across fields, eating off the land,
stealing from meagre crops and accompanying those with meat from any animal that Albert managed to trap or shoot.

Edith’s hair was matted and plastered to her head. Sores on her feet rubbed and oozed pus, her teeth were coated and her nails dirty. Occasionally they had washed in a stream, but her
clothes were clogged with mud, and the tooth-powder and soap Albert had packed into his backpack had run out a few days ago.

‘We ’ave to keep to the fields, Edith,’ Albert had said on countless occasions, when she’d begged him to allow her to go into the nearest town. If only he would let her,
she could try to access some money from her bank account and pay for a hotel and transport to the South of France. She was certain Marianne would help Albert to disappear, and her to get back to
the hospital.

‘If we use the roads or enter a town, we may bump into soldiers returning from the front, or others going there. My description would ’ave been circulated by now, especially as they
might think I kidnapped you.’

She had been tempted on more than one occasion to scream at him, ‘You
did
kidnap me! You used emotional blackmail. You dragged me away from my bed.’ But she didn’t. He
had enough to carry on his shoulders, and seemed to her to be getting dangerously morose and paranoid. It was all she could do to keep his spirits up.

The sight of a farm in the distance gave her hope. Albert would break in and steal what they needed: food, soap, coffee – milk and eggs even. The thought of it took away any pangs of
conscience she might normally have had at such actions. Tiredness seeped into her as they neared the building. Crouching low made her joints ache.

‘We will ’ave to lie low until darkness, Edith. Then I will see what I can get.’

‘Promise me you won’t hurt anyone. I couldn’t bear that, and could never forgive you for it.’

‘I promise. Now come on, let’s make it to that barn for shelter. We might even get some shut-eye while we wait for the owners to go to bed.’

Lying down didn’t give her any comfort. Over the days they had walked and starved, the flesh had dropped from her bones and it was now difficult to position her body without something
digging into her.

Though they lay together for warmth and had done on many occasions, Albert had respected her wishes and had not touched her. These hadn’t truly been her wishes, as many times she had lain
next to him aching for him to hold and kiss her, but she was afraid and unsure.

Sometimes she’d even dreamed of Captain Woodster, and woke up longing for everything he stood for. He was of her world; he thought the way she did, he loved the same things: medicine, and
devotion to the care of others. His conversation was on her level . . . But then she would look over at Albert, curled up and sleeping next to her, and her heart would flip over and she knew he was
much more a part of her than she really wanted him to be.

‘Wake up, Edith. Wake up.’

‘What? Oh, I – I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep. What’s wrong?’ A shiver that wasn’t just down to how cold she felt trembled through her.

‘Nothing – everything is right. The farm ’as been abandoned. And recently, if you ask me. I waited till dark, but no lights came on in the ’ouse and no smoke came from
the chimney.’

‘But there’s lights and smoke now – look! Perhaps you were wrong, and perhaps we shouldn’t make so much noise.’

‘That’s my doing. I crept over there and found the house empty. Oh, it’s been ransacked, but I found stuff that made me ’eart sing. There’s canned food, a bottle of
brandy and some wine in a flask; and, oh, soap and stuff. I’ve ’ad the water on the stove and ’ad a good wash down, and filled a tin bath for yer to soak in. Come on, and while
yer ’ave a bath, I’ll make something for us to eat.’

His breath wafted to her the evidence of him having drunk some of the brandy already, but she didn’t blame him. Nor did she care. All she could think of was how what he’d described
to her sounded like heaven to her aching limbs.

‘I must have been asleep for a long time?’

‘Two hours in all. I kept coming and checking on you. And I put that blanket on you.’

She hadn’t noticed the blanket, but now picked it up and wrapped it around her, trying to stop the shivering of her limbs as she walked with him to the farm.

It was all she wished it to be. A typically French farmhouse, just as she’d seen in pictures, and on her travels to Marianne’s. Built of grey stone, all of its windows had shutters
on them; some were secure and closed, but a couple blew loose in the breeze and banged against the wall and then banged shut again, creating an eerie feel in the dusk of the evening. That feeling
left her as she entered the kitchen. Albert must have worked hard in those two hours, as it was no longer ramshackle, as he described, but had an order to it. The long wooden table in the centre
had been cleared and washed down, and now held a lit oil lamp in its centre.

The fire glowed from the grate, joining the flicker of the lamp and giving a romantic hue to the whole room. In front of the fire, and between two armchairs, was what she thought she’d
never see again: a steaming hot bathtub. Her insides warmed at the sight of it, but her clothes and hair suddenly turned into sackcloth and straw, as her longing overwhelmed her.

Taking a swig from the bottle of brandy, Albert wiped his hand over his mouth. ‘Go on – it’s all yours. I won’t peep.’ A hiccup accompanied this and lit a tiny
flame of fear inside her.
If Albert gets drunk, will he be as much in control of his emotions as he has been?
Oh God, she hoped so. She wasn’t ready. Not yet.

‘Will you go out of the room, Albert, please? Is there a sitting room or somewhere you can wait for me? I promise I won’t be long.’

‘If that’s what you want, but I ’ad in mind to prepare them salad vegetables I found in the greenhouse – there’s tomatoes and lettuce. Look, I’ll keep me back
to you and work at the sink. I’ve opened a couple of tins, and found one contained some sort of meat. I’ll put that on the stove in some wine, with some of them bulbs hanging from the
ceiling. They must be French onions or something.’

She giggled at this. ‘Just one clove of one bulb will be enough, Albert. They are garlic. They give a lovely flavour, but are very strong. Anyway that all sounds delicious, and I’ll
even have a glass of wine with the meal. But you go easy on that brandy; when you are hungry and haven’t had a drink for a while, it can have a quicker effect on you.’

‘I’m all right – I can drink most men under the table.’

Another hiccup set the nerves in her stomach fluttering, but she couldn’t wait any longer for her bath, so she didn’t argue. Taking off her clothes, she found that the luxury of
dipping her toe in the water took away her concerns. Sinking her whole body into the water and caressing it with the soapsuds made her forget everything for a second – even her niggling worry
over her health – for the trembling wouldn’t stop and the feeling of fuzziness in her head that she’d thought was down to having dozed off and being awoken so suddenly
hadn’t left her. Relaxing back, she closed her eyes.

‘You’re beautiful, Edith.’ This had her opening them again, and relit the fear in her. Albert stood over her. His body swayed a little, his words slurred. ‘I slove you
more thans anyshing.’

Her hands covered the tips of her breasts and she hoped the suds hid the rest of her. ‘Albert, you promised you wouldn’t look. You’re frightening me.’

‘Edith, oh, Edith, I can’t ’elp meself I want yer, Edith. Pleash come to me and let me—’

‘I’m not ready, Albert. I’m afraid. I’ve never . . .’

‘I won’t hurt you. I’ll be gentle. You’re a doctor, so you know what it’s all about.’

‘Of course I do. But that doesn’t make it any less frightening. Besides, I wanted it to happen when I was married. I didn’t want to do anything before.’

At this he turned and walked away, and her nerves settled down again. He wasn’t going to impose himself on her. But she would get out of the tub and wrap herself in the blanket as quickly
as she could. She couldn’t dress, because all of her clothes were wet and filthy. But she would wash them in the tub and hope they would dry out in front of the fire.

Dinner was a quiet affair at first, as Albert seemed to be sulking, and Edith found it difficult to focus properly on any topic of conversation, as her head ached. When Albert did speak, it was
about Jimmy.

‘I can’t get that poor boy out of me ’ead. Why oh why? What’s the bloody good of killing our own – and young lads, at that? Lads as shouldn’t even be
there.’

‘I don’t know. It’s a tragedy. But one we can’t change, because those who have the power think it is the right thing to do.’

‘Them like your brothers, you mean? Well, you can tell them from me: they are murderers, just as I am. We’ve all murdered – killed young lads. Oh, it might be that we ’ad
to, as we were under orders and are fighting for peace, but each one of them lads ’as a mother, and many ’ave a wife and kids. It fills me dreams, Edith. Gives me bloody nightmares, it
does.’

His voice didn’t slur so much as have a tinge of anger to it. She tried to soothe him. ‘I know. I have seen you sweating and tossing and turning, and many times you have called out
names in your sleep. When we are safe, we will get some help for you.’

“Elp – I’m not mad, woman! It ain’t me as needs bloody ’elp! It’s the likes of you and your class. Toffee-nosed, jumped-up buggers. You make the rules and we
’ave to stick by them. And you: you’re bloody frigid. Cold as bloody ice! I reckon your feelings are as tight as your arse is.’

The trembling of her limbs increased; she felt cold, and yet sweat stood out on her body. Her voice sounded weak to her own ears when she spoke, her tone begging: ‘Albert, there is no need
to speak to me like that. And please stop drinking. It is changing you. I told you: you are frightening me.’

‘Frightening yer – I ain’t going to bloody ’urt yer. I told yer. But I can’t wait any longer, Edith. You’re going to ’ave it tonight, I’m telling
yer.’

‘No. Albert, no!’

He must have undone his trousers without her seeing him do so. As he rose, his need was there for her to see. Shock held her rigid as she saw his eyes fill with his lust. Before she could move,
his hands reached for her, pulling her to him and holding her as if in a vice. The blanket fell away from her, and his voice, thick and heavy, compounded her fear. ‘Oh, Edith. It’s
time. I want you so badly that I’ll ’ave to just take yer.’