‘It wasn’t necessary to speak to our Jimmy the way you did, Annie.’
‘It was entirely necessary. It was either that or leave him to rot away in a darkened room. That would have been even more cruel.’
‘You know very well he’ll never be capable of making money to support a wife. There’s nothing he can do here to earn himself a living.’
‘If we marry we won’t be living here,’ Annie declared firmly. ‘There are a couple of gamekeepers’ cottages over by Tregassick that are empty right now. They used to be occupied by Heligan gamekeepers, but now they’ve gone off to war their families have moved into Mevagissey. I’ve said I’ll take one over and Polly will move into the other when she marries Martin. It’s close enough for Jimmy to take on some of the work at Tregassick and we’ll all be there to help him.’
Winnie was horrified at the thought of letting Jimmy move away from the farm worked by the Rowe family. ‘Why move over there? He knows his way about the farm here. He’ll need to learn where everything is all over again - and he can’t see.’
‘He’ll have all the help he needs from me, Ma and Pa.’ Annie said, firmly. ‘If he stays here he’ll always be treated as an invalid. When he comes to Tregassick he’ll be expected to earn a living for himself - and for me and our family, should we ever have one. That's what Jimmy needs and he’ll be all the better for it.’
Annie had decided she must put aside the doubts she still held about marrying Jimmy. She had declared her future now. It was not the one she had always dreamed of, but she told herself this was real life, not a dream world. She would need to face facts and accept what fate had decreed for her.
Chapter 46
Annie’s wedding to Jimmy was not the happy occasion she had so often imagined the ceremony to be.
It was due to take place at the nearby St Ewe Church, but before the banns were called there was an argument between the vicar of Mevagissey and the incumbent of St Ewe about which of their parishes had responsibility for Tregassick Farm. Technically, the farm lay within the Mevagissey parish, but it was administered by the Tremayne Estate, and the Tremayne family worshipped at St Ewe. The vicar of Mevagissey gave way only when Annie threatened to have the marriage ceremony performed in a Wesleyan chapel if the two clerics failed to agree.
Jimmy, his mother and Rose came to Tregassick the day before the ceremony. Jimmy’s father would ride over first thing in the morning after tending the animals.
Tregassick Farm would have been over-crowded had the Rowe family stayed there, so they were accommodated in the semi-detached cottage that Annie and Jimmy would occupy after their marriage. It was only a short distance away and the Rowes would eat at Tregassick.
After depositing their clothes at the cottage, Jimmy and his family arrived at the farm. It was an uncomfortable evening. Winnie complained unceasingly about her son’s new home. It was too large for a newlywed couple, was sparsely furnished, water needed to be fetched from a well situated in a nearby field, there were no clearly defined paths about the property, the privy was sited too far from the house, the adjacent cottage was empty and so there would be no neighbours nearby for Jimmy to call upon if he was taken ill while Annie was absent from the house . . .
Her final assessment was that ‘her Jimmy’ would have been far better off had the young couple made their home at the Rowes’ farm.
Winnie arrived alone for breakfast at Tregassick the following morning. She said it was unlucky for the bridegroom to see his bride before the ceremony, and Rose had stayed to attend to Jimmy.
She resumed her tirade against the cottage almost immediately, pointing out the problems ‘her Jimmy’ would have summoning a doctor to ‘such an out of the way place’.
After listening in smouldering silence, Annie suddenly turned on her fiercely. ‘You’re right, of course. None of this is suitable for Jimmy. Not the house, the place where it is - or me. Shall I tell Jimmy the wedding is off, Mrs Rowe, or would you rather do it yourself?’
Winnie looked at Annie in dismayed disbelief. ‘You . . . you can’t call off the wedding only hours before it’s due to go ahead!’
‘Better that than have you forever saying that Jimmy should never have married me in the first place. It’s going to be hard enough for us to make a go of it as it is with all the problems he has. I’d rather call it off right now and let Jimmy return home with you.’
‘I . . . I wasn’t suggesting the wedding should he called off,’ Winnie blustered, ‘I was only pointing out.’
‘You were putting up a very good case for me and Jimmy not to get wed, Mrs Rowe. So good that you’ve well-nigh convinced me it wouldn’t be right for us to be married. I suggest you go back to the cottage now and tell Jimmy you’ve persuaded me to call it off. I’ll get into my work clothes and go out and help Pa. There’s a whole lot of work needs doing on the farm.’
Aware she had pushed Annie too far, Winnie said, ‘I’m sure I wasn’t trying to upset things between you and our Jimmy. I was only pointing out that things won’t be easy here. I was thinking of Jimmy - and you too, seeing the way he is.’
‘Jimmy needs someone to point out to him the things he can do, Mrs Rowe, not try to convince him he can’t do anything. He’s a live. A lot of men from around here who went off to war are dead. That’s the first plus for him. Jimmy and me will build on that.’
‘Well!’ Winnie made it clear she was deeply offended. ‘I was only saying what I thought was best for both your sakes. But once you’re married he’ll be your responsibility, not mine. I don’t think I could eat any breakfast now. I’ll go back to the cottage and send Rose over . . .’
When she had gone, Annie’s mother said, ‘You were very hard on her, our Annie. She was only thinking of Jimmy, I’m sure - and he is going to be a big responsibility for you.’
‘Don’t you think I know that already, Ma? It’s something we’re going to have to cope with - me and Jimmy, no one else. I’ll learn to live with it, but only if I’m left to get on with things in my own way. It’s certainly not the way I thought married life was going to be . . .’
Despite her determination to put on a brave front, Annie’s voice broke. Turning away, she hurried from the kitchen.
Harriet felt deep compassion for her daughter. For a moment she wondered what might have happened had she and Annie’s father not pushed her towards Jimmy had they allowed the relationship with Perys Tremayne to take its course . . . She decided it was something she would rather not think about right now.
* * *
The wedding of Jimmy Rowe and Annie Bray came close to disaster. Standing at the front of the church, awaiting the arrival of the bride, Jimmy was suddenly overcome by the emotion of the occasion and began desperately and noisily fighting for breath.
His best man was a childhood fisherman friend from Mevagissey. A boating accident had left him with a badly crippled arm which prevented him from going to war. When Jimmy collapsed he was unable to support him, and the unfortunate bridegroom fell heavily to the stone floor where he continued to fight for breath.
Concerned, the wedding guests hurried to his assistance. This was the scene which greeted Annie when she entered the small church on the arm of her father.
The organist, who did not have a view of the front pews, immediately struck up the chords of the wedding march, adding considerably to the confusion.
It was almost half-an-hour before Jimmy recovered sufficiently to stand at the altar, supported by the best man on one side and Annie on the other. He felt the humiliation of his collapse very keenly.
Aware of his distress, Annie’s heart went out to him. Supporting his arm in the crook of hers, she linked her fingers in his and squeezed them reassuringly, hoping to stop his shaking.
When the ceremony came to an end the newlyweds returned to Tregassick in a farm wagon, but the excitement of the day had been too much for Jimmy. He collapsed once more and was put to bed in the Bray farmhouse.
A doctor was summoned from Mevagissey and he gave Jimmy a strong sleeping draught that would knock him out for at least twelve hours.
It was not the wedding night either of them had anticipated, but it gave Annie a good indication of what married life with Jimmy was going to be like.
Lying alone in bed that night her tears were for Jimmy, for herself - and for what might have been.
Chapter 47
News of Annie’s marriage was given to Perys by Martin as they walked to their aeroplane from the briefing room on a late autumn evening.
Perys received the information in silence. He had long ago given up any idea of a miracle happening that would bring him and Annie together again, and yet . . .
‘I wish I felt she was doing the right thing,’ Martin said, unhappily.
‘Is there anything to suggest she isn’t?’ Perys asked. ‘No one’s forcing her to get married. It’s entirely her own decision, surely?’ He spoke more sharply than he had intended.
‘That’s just it,’ Martin said, ‘I don’t think it is her decision. I don’t mean that anyone has actually forced her to marry Jimmy, but because of his wounds, she didn’t feel she could back out of it.’
‘What makes you think she might have wanted to?’ Perys asked.
‘It was something Polly said in one of her letters. She won’t usually tell me any of the unhappy things that happen at Tregassick, in case I worry about what’s going on there, but she did say that she and Annie had had a long talk about it. She wouldn’t say in so many words that Annie didn’t want to marry Jimmy, only that she couldn’t have backed out had she wanted to, what with both families - and Jimmy in particular - expecting there to be a wedding. If she’d tried to get out of marrying him, everyone would have said it was because he’d been so badly wounded. Polly says Annie told her Jimmy had said he’d have nothing to live for if she didn’t wed him. Knowing our Annie, she’d have felt duty bound to marry him.’
They had reached the aeroplane now and Perys said, ‘I hope there’s more to it than that, Martin. Feeling she must marry because she’s sorry for him is hardly the recipe for a happy life - for either of them.’
‘I agree,’ Martin replied, as he began checking the munition drums in his cockpit, ‘but it’s too late now for anyone to try to change her mind. She’s not Annie Bray any more, she’s Annie Rowe.’
* * *
The late evening photographic reconnaissance proved far more difficult than either man had anticipated. The Germans were increasingly dominating the skies above the front-line because the latest aircraft being delivered to their squadrons were fitted with a revolutionary new device - a gun that was synchronised to fire through the propeller. It made the German aircraft formidable. The pilot pointed his aeroplane at a target, pulled a trigger - and machine-gun bullets did the rest.
It was only Perys’s flying skill that enabled them to survive a determined attack pressed home by a lone German pilot, but the photographic sortie had to be aborted.
Perys returned to the airfield feeling extremely disgruntled, but he was met on the ground by Major Kemp who informed him that four new pilots and two observers had arrived at the squadron, bringing at least a temporary end to the dire shortage of fliers they had been suffering.
‘It means I can send you away for a few days Perys,’ said the squadron’s commanding officer as he and Perys walked back to the administration building.
‘Send me where, sir?’ Perys was alarmed. ‘You’re not taking me off active duties?’
‘It’s a purely temporary arrangement,’ Thomas Kemp reassured him. ‘I want you to take your BE2c up to RFC headquarters at Saint Andre. Some senior officer has come across from London, no doubt to see what the war is all about. I’ve been asked to provide an aircraft and pilot to show him around. You’re the best man for the job. You can go via Saint Omer and drop Acting Sergeant Bray off there. He’s being sent on a course so that he can be officially classified as an observer and his promotion can become permanent.’
The news that Martin was to become a qualified observer was good news. Perys knew his friend would be delighted. In a conversation some time before, he had been concerned that he was likely to revert to being ground staff if he were transferred to another squadron. Perys had passed his concerns on to Major Kemp, together with his opinion that Martin was a first-class observer and thoroughly at home in the air, but nothing more had been said on the subject until now.
‘You’d better take your best uniform with you,’ Thomas Kemp was still talking to Perys. ‘Senior officers from England expect to do a great deal of socialising while they’re here. Right, off you go and get yourself ready. By the way, don’t take any chances while you’re in the air with whoever you’ll be taking around. The army won’t want to lose him. More importantly, I can’t afford to lose either my best pilot, or a BE2c.’
Perys had almost reached the door when Major Kemp added, ‘When you’ve finished what you have to do at headquarters, take a couple of days off. Go to Paris and let your hair down a little. They tell me the show at the Folies Bergere is worth a visit. Have a look at it and when you return you can tell me all about it.’
* * *
Martin was excited at the possibility of becoming a fully fledged observer. On the way to their aircraft that afternoon, he said, ‘Do you think that when I put up my observers’ half-wing I might manage a few days’ leave to get to Cornwall?’
‘I don’t see any reason why not,’ Perys replied. ‘And Polly will be absolutely delighted and proud of you, I’ve no doubt.’
‘If it can be arranged I’m aiming to be a bit more ambitious than just seeing her,’ declared Martin. ‘If I can get a few days’ leave I’ll send a telegram to Polly and ask her to get a special licence so we can be married right away.’ Martin hesitated for a few moments before adding, ‘If it all works out as I want it to, I have another favour to ask of you, sir. I hope you won’t be offended.’
‘Offended? Why, what is it, Martin?’
‘If I can arrange the marriage and you can get to Cornwall . . . would you consider being my best man?’
The question took Perys by surprise, but he was greatly touched by the request. ‘I am deeply honoured, Martin. I don’t need to tell you that it might not be possible but, if it is, I shall do my damnedest to do the necessary for you.’