Summer's End (30 page)

‘Yes, Jamie.'

‘Suppose it happens again like it did – that time?' He tried to explain and she listened.

‘We've the rest of our lives to make it all right.'

So they had, so they had.

Awkwardly he pushed at her skirt, and then her arms were round him and it was all fumbling and pushing until he found the place. He didn't stop to wonder if it would be all right; he knew it would be and it was. At first he was afraid of hurting her, but he couldn't do anything about it, so he pushed on. She let out a yelp, but all she said was, ‘Go on, my lover, go on.'

There wasn't any need to worry this time, and he was past thinking anyway, just full of a roaring and a loving that swelled up higher and higher, taking him over completely until he burst into her, and saw she was there, his beautiful, beautiful Agnes, and then she wasn't because he was crying. Not for long though.

‘I'll have the biggest and best motor-forge in Sussex,' he vowed jubilantly, lying back on the grass afterwards. ‘That's because you'll be my missis. You could serve teas and ices.'

‘Oh,
yes
.'

‘The nippers can help you,' he offered boldly.

‘Get on with you, Jamie Thorn.'

Sir John returned briefly to see his son at Queen Anne's Gate in the middle of the evening. He greeted Caroline courteously enough, but she knew she was an irrelevance. His words were for Reggie, not because he was his son but because this was war and men's business.
Dazed by the unreality of the circumstances, she felt this justified, but as the group talk continued she began to feel excluded. Did not women suffer as much in war as men, though in different ways? And why should those ways always be different? Sir John was grey-faced from lack of sleep and the gravity of the situation, and was clearly anxious to return to the War Office.

‘Germany has demanded free passage through Belgium. It will not be granted, of course, and we shall issue an ultimatum this evening giving them twenty-four hours to guarantee Belgium's neutrality.'

‘Will they do so?' Reggie demanded.

‘Luxembourg is already invaded. That is your answer. Our own mobilisation orders are agreed, and will be issued tomorrow morning.'

‘But what about Ireland? Suppose they seize their opportunity for civil war?'

‘John Redmond has pledged Ireland's support in this crisis. They will fight with us.'

‘And France?' Caroline did not dare ask directly about Isabel in the light of such awe-inspiring news.

‘Paris is calmly resigned to war. There are already skirmishes in the east.' Then Sir John did recollect what had been happening in Ashden. ‘You must forgive me, my dear, for my preoccupation. I understand you and Reginald announced your engagement on Saturday. I must congratulate you, though I could have wished –'

‘
What
, Father?' Reggie interrupted angrily.

‘A better time, my son.' He paused. ‘You will no doubt be discussing the situation with Daniel when you return home?'

Innocent words, but the look father and son exchanged terrified Caroline. She did not speak lest the sickness in her stomach overwhelm her, after they left Queen Anne's Gate. She realised that instinctively they were walking not towards Victoria Station, but towards the Mall, where crowds were surging up towards Buckingham Palace, obviously for an expected appearance by King George and Queen Mary. When at last the doors opened and they came on to the balcony, the whole crowd around them seemed to explode in one vast cheer. The sound of ‘Rule Britannia' and ‘God Save the King' enveloped them, Union Jacks and tricolours were waving on all sides, picking up the blood red of the geraniuims
bedecking the palace, and caught up in the euphoria they found themselves singing too.

‘Why should we want to sing?' she asked Reggie, as they fought their way through the crowds back to the railway station. ‘Is it for war?'

‘No. I think it is for England.' he replied soberly, but as she turned to look at him she sensed that, beneath his serious expression, excitement was still pulsating.

The train did not reach Ashden until well after midnight, and as they picked their way in the darkness down Station Road, Reggie's arm around her waist, all was quiet after the uproar of London. Only one remaining cottager still kept a vigil. On Bankside old Jacob Timms, father of the newsagent, was sitting in his chair outside his cottage, the oil lamp glowing within, picking out his dark silhouette. He had been there for many, many hours, and until midnight there had been a hushed circle of people listening as he read out the news from London, as each special edition arrived.

On his way home from the War Office late that night, Sir John Hunney called in to the Foreign Office to see the Foreign Secretary. He found him with a friend. The ultimatum to Berlin had been given, now came the waiting. ‘I'll turn down the lamps,' he offered. ‘Then you can see the people more clearly. It is a strengthening sight.'

The Foreign Secretary moved to the window, and looked out into the darkness. ‘The lamps are going out all over Europe. We shall not see them lit again in our lifetime.'

Caroline could not sleep that night, though little enough remained of it. Perhaps it was the fast-moving events of the day, whose end was not yet known, perhaps the knowledge that the happiness that had been so nearly within her grasp had slipped an inch or two away. In the morning she rose to face the inevitable recriminations for her late homecoming, but to her surprise there were none. Her father was engrossed in
The Times
, and Felicia was reading over his shoulder. Why? Caroline wondered instantly. Felicia was never normally interested in world events, but she had spent the day with Daniel … Nonsense. Caroline tried to take hold of herself. She was over-tired and her imagination was galloping as usual well in advance of facts.

‘Is there news of Isabel?' she asked anxiously.

‘None. Your mother has gone to calm Mrs Swinford-Browne.'

Mother
calm her? Father looked at her in that way of his which said: I know what you're thinking. Keep it merely as a thought. So Caroline did. She seized the paper after her father left for Matins, finding a perverse comfort in the way
The Times
maintained its formal order: a front page of personal advertisements, page after page of statistics and law reports, and in the very middle the war news. It seemed to help keep it in perspective – temporarily.

Felicia continued to read over her shoulder, interspersed with prowls around the room. Finally she observed, ‘The Honourable Artillery Company is seeking what it describes as “eligible recruits” because it is not up to strength. Will many regiments do that, do you think?'

Caroline laid the newspaper down, detecting the overdone casualness in her sister's voice. ‘I don't know, Felicia.' She meant, and Felicia knew she did, I don't know if Daniel will want to go to war. I don't know if Reggie will. ‘How's Mother?' she asked, determined to keep off those imponderable, terrifying unknowns.

‘Better.'

‘Even if Isabel has an uncomfortable journey, she will get back,' Caroline pointed out. ‘She's not in Brussels, she's in Paris.'

‘Perhaps,' Felicia said quietly, ‘but if she were being sensible she'd be back by now. The last of the special trains has come in, and they weren't on it.'

‘When was Isabel ever sensible? But that doesn't mean she's in danger, merely that she's decided not to sacrifice her honeymoon to the Germans. And darling Edith will have instructed her that it isn't nice for a young gel to send postcards on a honeymoon.' If Caroline had hoped to make Felicia laugh, she was disappointed.

‘A column of soldiers came through yesterday. They had full packs and they were watering the horses at the pond. They were singing “It's a Long Way to Tipperary” just as though there were no emergency. They sounded so cheerful.'

Caroline followed these inconsequential comments exactly, and braced herself. ‘British soldiers always do,' she commented lightly.

‘That's what Kipling says in his verse. I wonder if it's really true? I tried to think of the men yesterday under fire –'

‘Don't, Felicia, please. Didn't Mother say we should visit the
wives of the Tilbury brothers to see if they are in need with their husbands going away so unexpectedly.'

‘Yes, she did. We'll go after breakfast. I'm sorry, Caroline.'

George was out for the day with a friend from Skinners, and Phoebe had decided to visit Philip Ryde's sister, Beatrice, with whom he lived. When Felicia and Caroline too had departed, Elizabeth, returned from The Towers exhausted from her endeavours, seized the chance to return to her sole preoccupation.

‘Edith is distraught, Laurence. Could we not telephone Sir John to cable the British Ambassador in Paris? Isabel is our daughter?'

‘How many other daughters, how many sons,' he replied, torn apart. ‘I cannot do it, Elizabeth. All cable lines to Paris are needed in the general good. The ambassador would have notified the Government if there were danger to or casualties among civilians. Today is not the day to press our investigations. France's railways are needed for troop movements now they have mobilised. As soon as the immediate need is over, their government will return to civilian problems.'

Elizabeth battled with a situation she had never envisaged, and the need to maintain the calm Laurence demanded of her. So easy to demand, so hard to live up to. ‘Without let or hindrance, her passport says,' she burst out. ‘These Germans will stop at nothing. They will sweep through Belgium, and on to Paris. Will one British passport stop them?'

‘Have mercy, Elizabeth,' he shouted, losing his own control. ‘I do not
know
.'

‘No. We neither of us do.' There was bitterness in her voice. ‘I suppose I should speak to Mrs Dibble about luncheon.' The curate and church officers were coming unexpectedly. So easy once. Now, with the sudden and horrific threat of food shortages hanging over them, it was a terrifying prospect. ‘Consider the lilies of the field,' Laurence would say. Well, they were the Lilleys of the Rectory and
she
was the one who had to plan luncheon. That had nothing to do with patriotism, only common sense. Elizabeth felt as if she were bursting out of her clothes with pent-up emotion. Was there nowhere in this huge old rectory where she could cry alone? No, everywhere she would be under the eye of God, she told herself. A sympathetic eye, no doubt, but an inexorable one. She must stand firm.

Margaret Dibble had sensibly not consulted the Rector or Mrs Lilley on all matters integral to the well-being of the Rectory. She was making her own arrangements. Now was the time for good customers to reap their rewards. She'd start with Sebastian Grendel and the Lettices.

Caroline could not bear the waiting: waiting for Reggie to call, waiting for news of Isabel, waiting for war news on the telegraph or newspaper. Twice on the Tuesday morning she and Felicia walked up Station Road to wait with countless others for the train from London and East Grinstead. Tom Timms hardly had time to get the latest editions back to his newsagent's shop before they were all sold to people grabbing them en route. There seemed to be general satisfaction that the die was cast in the form of the ultimatum to Germany, and talk turned to Jack Hobbs playing at the Oval today, where Surrey was playing Nottinghamshire, and whether he'd make his 800th run. When the midday editions reached them early in the afternoon it caused little further excitement, for everyone had expected the news they read – that German troops had crossed the Belgian border.

‘Old Kaiser Bill will get his whiskers singed, eh?' she heard Len Thorn shouting. Caroline hoped Kaiser Bill was taking due note. Len was a powerful man.

By three o'clock she was fretting because there was still no sign of Reggie. To her horror, she suddenly realised it was Tuesday and she had completely forgotten her job at the Manor. True, the bank holiday had been extended for two days, but she suspected Lady Hunney would not recognise this as any reason for her absence from her post of duty in the library. Moreover Reggie would be expecting to see her there. She part ran, part walked, and arrived breathless to find Lady Hunney advancing towards her, as Parker let her in, with all the menace of a troop of Prussian cavalry.
Why
oh why had she foolishly used the front door. Appearances were deceptive, however, for Lady Hunney was lacking her usual fire.

‘Reginald is not here, Caroline. Neither of my sons is. They are in London.'

Caroline was taken aback. ‘But we came home last night.' It was a foolish rejoinder, but Lady Hunney answered.

‘They have left again. I think, Caroline, they
wish
to be in London
for some reason.' Her voice lacked its usual barb, which Caroline found almost more terrifying than the usual honeyed serpent of her tongue.

‘Shall I carry on working in the library, Lady Hunney?' It was all she could manage. Caroline realised now they shared a common fear, but it was one that could never be voiced between them.

‘If you wish. The time may pass the quicker. I envy you.'

Envy?
More worried than ever, Caroline made her way to the library, but for once even this failed to take her mind off the outside world.

‘Caroline, if there is a war –' Felicia began, as Ahab bounded off in haphazard pursuit of whatever rabbits were foolish enough to remain at their sunset supper.

‘I've decided not to think about it. It may not happen,' Caroline butted in firmly.

‘It will, now Germany is invading Belgium. How could we not fight such an aggressor? Suppose this were France, and we were Belgian or French, watching rabbits jump around just before we went to bed? Suppose we were terrified that this meadow would be crushed by tramping German boots tomorrow? It must be terrible – all the menfolk leaving home, leaving wives to look after children alone. And who will do their work while they are away? Farmer
Lake
is a Reservist. He'd have to go. Suppose German troops came marching up Silly Lane and took over Owlers farm, demanding all their food?