‘Nah, he was killed ages ago. I’m driving ammo wagons now.’
‘Is that dangerous?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Does Mam know?’
‘Don’t say owt, she’ll only worry. It’s not a bad job, mostly behind the lines. But those bloody howitzers take no prisoners. One stray John Jackson lands on our head and we’re mincemeat. It’s a wonder there are any horses left. I’d really like to work in the Veterinary Corps, putting them back to health, not taking them out to be blown to bits. Sorry, no more war talk. So what’s all this about you and Cantrell? Mam says you’ve been walking out with him on his last leave.’
‘We’ve been writing to each other for ages but I expect he’s busy with Christmas parties and his family. You know his father was lost with Lord Kitchener?’
‘I did hear…Funny how our paths keep crossing at the Foss, then in France and then him giving me a lift. How’s the other one?’
‘Angus? He was discharged from the army on medical grounds. He’s had bad fits, but he’s helping run the officers’ hospital at Waterloo House.’
‘You don’t fancy him, then? They’re as alike as two peas.’
‘No, not at all. He’s quite different, always hanging round the pub—even got banned once—buys drinks but nobody talks to him much.’
‘How do you know? Been sneaking into the Hart’s Head of a night?’
‘Marigold tells me; she misses nothing.’
‘She wouldn’t, that nosy body,’ Frank winked. ‘I heard she’s one who follows anything in khaki. I hope you’re not doing the same.’
‘I’m spoken for,’ Selma whispered.
‘Has he said anything?’
‘No, not yet, but we’re getting there.’
‘Getting where?’ Mam was standing in the doorway, listening.
‘Nothing,’ Selma blushed, feeling hot. Guy had not even called on them yet so why she was saying such things she didn’t know. It was tempting fate.
‘What do you mean, you gave Frank Bartley a lift? Didn’t I tell you not to mix with riffraff? Now look at you, with a cold, and if that goes on your chest…Honestly, Guy, you are so wayward. Beaven has told me it was you who made him stop.’
‘I need some fresh air, not to sit mollycoddled round the fire like an invalid in a Bath chair. I’m fine, nothing a brisk walk won’t cure.’
‘Then Angus will go with you, just in case.’
‘Just in case of what? A chap needs his own company once in a while, don’t you think? You’ve paraded me round the drawing rooms of Sowerthwaite, introduced me to all the bright young things you could muster. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, and no, I haven’t seen one to compare with Miss Bartley for intelligence, and good looks. And yes, I will be calling on her when I am feeling a bit stronger, but a tour around the grounds is all I can
manage at the moment. Please don’t go on about it; my mind is made up. I shall call on her father and make my intentions plain.’
‘Guy, I absolutely forbid it! You are not even of age. It is a ridiculous idea. You will embarrass us all. There is no bridge between them and us. It is impossible. I think you’ve taken leave of your senses again. If only your father was here to guide,’ Hester fretted.
‘I’m not ungrateful for all you’ve done. But life is short, and who knows what will happen next? I just want to be able to enjoy what little time is left with Selma by my side. Father would understand, after all, he didn’t exactly live like a monk when he was away, did he?’
‘How dare you say such things? I don’t want to hear another word on the matter. If you go ahead with this ridiculous scheme, I shall take legal measures: nothing will come to you until you are thirty and I will change my will. You will not defy me in this!’
‘Be that as it may, Mother, I’ve got my officer’s pay…’
‘That won’t go far to pay your present mess bills and equipment. I had hoped you would grow out of such fancies.’
‘And you tried to make sure Selma wouldn’t write to me, refusing to give her my address or my news. She found out in a shop queue. I feel ashamed of you.’
‘I’m doing this for the best. Believe me, you’ll thank me one day.’ His mother was standing face to face with him, practically spitting out the words.
Guy stormed out, banging the drawing-room door. His chest was feeling tight now, and then he started to cough and couldn’t stop.
Hester took one look at him and ordered him to bed, hot and flustered at his defiance. She was concerned about his fitness, as was Dr Mac when he examined him later. There was no way Guy was going to be fit to return after Christmas. Getting worked up about a village girl wasn’t going to help either.
She’d put him in the front guest room with the best view and the large open window where the westerly could blow in and give him fresh air. She plumped up his pillows to keep him upright, relieved that his cold would confine him to bed again and out of harm’s way. And Selma’s.
Having her sons to herself was the best Yuletide present, and if she could get him to stay longer, she might persuade him to stop this infatuation with the blacksmith’s daughter. What on earth had she got to offer him? She was peasant stock—good childbearing hips, no doubt, but he was still too young to be making love to girls. He was still her little boy and needed protecting.
Time to do another tidy-up herself. She was getting used to doing menial jobs now that the daily help had left. That it should come to this. Opening Angus’s room door she thought she saw Guy admiring himself in the long dressing mirror, in his full uniform. ‘You should be in bed!’ she ordered and then realised she’d just taken Guy a jug of water. There was a roar of laughter. ‘Fooled you!’ Angus grinned under the cap.
‘Oh, you gave me a fright! What on earth are you dressed up like that for?’
‘Just trying it on for size. Don’t I look the part? No one could tell the difference.’
‘Take it off at once. It’s just been cleaned. Honestly, Angus,
you are the limit, and poor Guy coughing up his guts across the corridor…’
‘Makes you think, though, doesn’t it? I mean, no one would know, would they, if I turned up as Guy Cantrell. Even our initials are the same.’
‘Turn up where?’ she asked, puzzled.
‘At his medical…to give him a few more weeks’ grace with you. He’s bound to be put on light duties or retraining. I could cover for him. What a hoot! No one can tell us apart.’
‘Angus, you would be impersonating another officer. Guy would never allow it. You don’t know a thing about his men or his duties out there. It’s a ridiculous idea. Take those clothes off at once. Where do you think up such schemes?’ Hester could feel her heart thudding.
‘Don’t you think it makes some sense…just for a week or two? I’ve been right for months. Anyone can see Guy needs more time.’
‘The army will see to that and extend his convalescence.’
‘But this way I get a proper shot at the job. I’m sick of seeing silly schoolboys in the OTC going off to war when I should be out there. This way I can have my turn and prove that I’m as good as anybody.’
‘Is this what it’s all about, jealousy of your brother? Oh, grow up and face the facts. You are a liability now.’
‘No I’m not and I know how you want Guy to be home to rest here. This way we both get what we want.’
‘Guy would never agree,’ said Hester, hesitating now.
‘Why should he know? We could say I’d gone to London on business. Dr Mac will give a report saying Guy’s too sick to attend, and by the time he recovers I’ll be back and we can swap back. Then I can tell him the truth, if needs be.’
‘It would never work. It’s madness. We can’t take risks with his work.’
‘What work? He’d not last a week in the trenches or on a route march. Think of this as saving his life, letting him off the hook a while longer. Don’t I deserve a chance to prove myself?’
‘But, Angus, your fits could return at any time and you need your medication.’
‘I’ll make sure I take plenty of supplies. I’ll be fine. Think about it. We could all benefit, especially Guy. He’s my twin; I don’t want harm to come to him, not after Father.’
‘Just take the uniform off. Give me time to think this over. If I thought you could pull it off for a week or so…Guy would be court-martialled if it ever came to light.’
‘It won’t be for that long…it’ll be such fun,’ Angus grinned.
‘War isn’t
fun.
Surely you realise that by now?’ Hester said, seeing the mischief sparkling in his eyes.
Angus was crazy to think up such a scheme, but it did have a few points in its favour. It would give her time to nurture and time to keep Guy away from making a fool of himself with that girl. This way he would not be able to leave the house. She could keep him safe from the guns and the trenches before another injury could claim her precious son. Only Angus would be taking a risk too…brave boy. He so wanted to be part of the fighting army. She could see where desperation, boredom, envy and curiosity had brought him to such a suggestion, but it was still madness, a crazy madness.
‘Isn’t it time you saw to the horses? Put Guy’s uniform away or, better still, give it to me. I think we’d better forget
this conversation. He won’t have to face another medical for a week or two yet.’
‘But, Mother, it makes sense…’
‘No matter. I’ll have that uniform now.’ Then she paused, suddenly having another idea. ‘On the other hand, there is one thing you can do for me. Something just as important, but not a word to Guy. This is between you, me and the wallpaper.’
Essie, Asa and Selma were standing on the windy platform at Sowerthwaite, the chill breeze whipping their heavy skirts and coats, tearing at their hats. Frank was standing shivering, waiting for the down train to Leeds to carry him back to barracks and back on to France. None of them felt like speaking. His leave had been so short and over so soon.
Parting was not for cowards, but Essie insisted they all come to wave him off.‘You’ve got some brass in your pocket, son,’ said Asa, palming some coins into his hand with a wink.
‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘You will write to us, keep us in touch?’ said Essie , holding him in a vicelike grip of loving concern and trying not to cry.
‘I’ll do my best.’ Her son’s grey eyes were blank and unreadable. So much left unsaid between them. Now he looked so young and yet old at the same time, her heart trembled that this might be the last time ever. But she pushed away the thought. ‘Oh, Frank, you will be careful? No more trouble, promise? Just do your job.’
‘Don’t worry, Mam, I’ll be a good wheelbarrow and go wherever I’m pushed, I promise,’ he laughed, and gave Selma
a brotherly bear hug. ‘Next time I come home, I expect you to be a Lady Muck in your finery, a captain’s girl, no less. Who would have thought it?’
‘Don’t be daft…’
‘I hear he’s still not very well and confined to bed. So Mrs Beck says, who does for them. He’s got a right bad chest from the gas and he won’t be going back for a while. So plenty of time convalescing,’ Essie winked, and they all laughed.
‘That’s officers for you. They live by different rules, but Cantrell is a good one, as I said. He stood up for me when I was in a spot of bother.’
‘You never said!’ Selma snapped.
‘You never asked…Here’s the train coming. Cheerybye…no tears. So don’t hang about,’ Frank shouted, picking up his rifle and his kitbag. ‘I’ll not be looking back.’ And he walked away from them.
‘Oh, son…’ Essie’s tears began to flow.
‘Come on, owd lass.’ Asa guided her through the gate but Selma stood defiant.
‘What did he mean, Guy helping him out of bother?’
‘Come on, do what you’re told for once. The fire will need banking up, so it’s back to work,’ her father ordered.
When they got back to the forge Essie saw the familiar outline of Jemima and the uniformed figure of Guy Cantrell waiting outside the closed forge door, pacing up and down.
‘I’ve been waiting ages…Where have you been?’ he barked to Asa, ignoring the women by his side.
‘Seeing off our son to war at the station,’ Essie replied, puzzled by the coolness of his attitude, surprised he was out of bed.
‘Jemima has lost a shoe again. I don’t think you put the
last one on properly, Mr Bartley. Lady Hester is not best pleased.’
Asa hurried to set up his stall and Selma hung back to talk to Guy.
He raised his cap. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Bartley.’
‘Are you feeling better? We heard you were confined to bed.’
‘As you see, I’m fine. This village makes gossip where there is none,’ he replied. ‘You had a pleasant Christmas, I gather? So your brother has gone. I shan’t be far behind.’
There was an awkward pause as the two youngsters stared at each other, Selma hesitant and Guy looking decidedly uneasy.‘I’ll leave Jemima in your capable hands, Miss Bartley. Beaven will call back later for her. Must dash, things to do…’ Then he turned on his heel, striding back towards Waterloo House without a backward glance.
Her daughter had been publicly put down and ignored as if she were a stranger and Essie didn’t know what to make of this sudden coolness. ‘Well, that was a turn-up,’ she said, looking to Asa and trying not to see Selma’s distress.
‘That’s gentry folk for you: pick you up and drop you like a hot coals.’
Both of them watched Selma backing out of the forge into the cottage to change. Essie made to go after her but Asa held her back.
‘Let her be a few moments. She’ll need to deal with this by herself, but I’ve seen another side to that young man, Essie. Officer or no, that were a right poor show of manners and no mistake.’
Stunned by the sight of Guy on his high horse, peering down at her as if she was a nobody, Selma couldn’t believe what had just happened. She’d never seen him so cold and imperious so cruel. He knew what it was like to say farewell to a soldier on leave. He knew Dad’s shoeing was the best in the district. He had looked down his nose at them as if they were dirt. It didn’t make sense.
They hadn’t quarrelled, yet he hadn’t made an effort to visit them and he looked pretty fit to her as he’d marched up that hill at a fair lick, not like the invalid they had been led to believe he was.
Was it all a pack of lies? Was he just avoiding her? No mention of their letter writing. She so wanted to know how he had helped Frank. He’d only mentioned he’d seen him in passing.