The Hills and the Valley Read online

  But Charlotte had been adamant.

  ‘I wouldn’t think of not going! All these years James and I have been together and you think I’d stay away from his funeral! A fine thing that would be!’

  And Margaret had taken her part.

  ‘Of course it wouldn’t be right. It would be awful for you to stay at home. Don’t worry, we’ll look after you, Mam.’

  And they had, though none of them, except perhaps Amy, knew the bleakness inside her. And even Amy could not help feeling her own experience had been different. She had been young, Llew had been young, and it had all been such a terrible shock, while Charlotte … well Charlotte was old and must have been expecting James’s death just as they all had. Unlike herself and Llew, Mam and Dad had had all their lives together, unlike them it was a long, long time since they had stood before the altar where the coffin now rested to make their vows.

  Only to Charlotte it did not seem a long time. Strangely enough it seemed like only yesterday. Though her body felt stiff and bloated, though her legs ached and her ankles when she looked down at them were swollen over the tops of her sensible black shoes, still Charlotte found herself looking at her family unable to believe the passage of years which had turned her babies into adults – almost middle-aged adults, some of them – Jim, in particular, with his shoulders bowed by the weight of his years underground and Sarah, quite matronly. They had had a lot of worry of course over Alec, who was now in Burma, they said. But all the same it was almost inconceivable that Jim should ever have been her little boy – even now she could see him sitting on the edge of the kitchen table while she bathed his grazed knees after he had taken a tumble playing along the Rank. And Jack, so smart in his dark suit and black tie, every inch the schoolmaster – was he really the result of an afternoon’s folly with a young man who had eased her suffering when she had been out of her mind with grief over the death of little Florrie? Florrie. Now Florrie seemed real to her – Florrie who would be forever a golden haired toddler unlike the sombre-faced strangers who purported to be her children.

  Charlotte’s eyes were drawn back to the coffin which had stood on trestles in the front room for the last five days and to which she had returned again and again, seeking comfort and consolation in the unbearable loneliness which had descended on her even before Dr Hobbs had pronounced James dead.

  Sometimes in the busy years when the children had been growing up she had felt she had little time for him. In the winter he had been at work from before dawn until after dark had come again, in the summer evenings he had spent long hours cultivating his garden. And when he had been there she had been too tired out by her own exertions to be able to enjoy his quiet company. But afterwards, when the children had grown up and left home, they had found a companionship which the years of their youth had been denied. James had never scintillated or sparkled, never been a source of wit or amusement. But he had been a rock on which she had come to depend. Even when he was weak and sick, needing constant attention, his uncomplaining nature and the gems of good sound sense he dispensed from time to time had kept her sane and his infirmity had made her feel needed.

  No one needed her now. Not James. Not her children. She was old. And yet within the confines of her now cumbersome body she felt somehow she was still the young bride who had left her home in Bath for what had seemed to her the romance of a pit village, carried off by her very own knight on a white charger. Where had the years gone? They had flown by in the twinkling of an eye. And now it was over, all over, and soon to be buried with that narrow oak coffin. Charlotte felt stunned by the finality of it, part of her unable to believe even now that when she went home James would not be there. The house that had once overflowed with her growing family would be empty and silent with no one to make meals for, no one to share bits of gossip with. But she had no intention of being persuaded to leave it.

  ‘You must come back to Minehead with us,’ Jack had said when he and Stella had arrived that morning. ‘We have got a room all ready for you. You can stay as long as you like.’

  But as she declined. ‘I have to get used to it, Jack, and the sooner the better. Perhaps later on, in the spring, I’ll come down for a week or a fortnight. But not yet. I’d rather be in my own home.’

  They had looked at one another, shaking their heads and knowing further argument was useless. Once she had made up her mind to something Charlotte was immovable. Already, Jim and Sarah had suggested she should make her home with them, as had Amy, and she had turned them both down. She did not want to share a kitchen with another woman and she did not want to leave the house which had been her home all her married life. Especially, she thought, she could never live with Amy. They were too alike in temperament; sparks always flew when they were together for too long. And she could never have been comfortable leading the kind of life they led, the days turned upside down so that they had their dinner in the evenings instead of half-past-midday and so much talk of business it made her head spin. They had plenty of room for her, of course, as Amy had pointed out, with Huw away and Barbara married. But Charlotte had found herself wondering just how long that would last. Marrying out of her class was something Charlotte had never agreed with and the child did not look as happy as she should. She was so pale now where once she had had lovely rosy cheeks and there was an expression in her eyes that Charlotte did not like at all.

  The simple service ended and the family filed behind the coffin to where the hearse waited to convey the coffin to the churchyard.

  It was over. All over. That was all she knew. All over almost as soon as it had begun. It would be her turn next. And when it came she would be ready.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  It often happens in families that a death and a birth follow close together and the Hall family was no exception. Two weeks after James was buried Barbara began to suspect that she might be pregnant and by the beginning of December she was almost certain. The thought of it set her mind in a turmoil and she did not know whether to be glad or sorry.

  To all practical intents and purposes it could not have come at a worse time. She had begun working for the Civil Nursing Reserve for four days a week, surprisingly encountering no resistance from the Spindlers who seemed to look upon her choice of war work as not only acceptable but also laudable, as if she was making some great sacrifice instead of enjoying herself hugely, which was much closer to the truth. But Barbara had the uncomfortable feeling that their attitude would change when they knew she was pregnant with their grandchild and her heart sank at the thought of being confined once more by the stout old walls of Hillsbridge House. It was such a pleasure to be travelling to Bath on weekdays once more, even if the trains were sometimes delayed so that she was left waiting on the platform for anything up to three quarters of an hour. Although it was cold enough to chill her in spite of her good thick coat and fleecy lined boots, it was still quite fun for Barbara had soon become popular with the regular travellers and she could bank on having someone to talk to to pass the time.

  As for her job she adored it. To some office routine might seem deadly dull but the challenge of orderliness had always appealed to Barbara. Even as a child she had longed to get to grips with the piles of papers and files on her mother’s desk and her year’s business training had done nothing to diminish her enthusiasm while at the same time teaching her office skills. Under the guidance of the Organizer she had set to work with a will and soon it had become apparent that she had inherited some of her mother’s organizational capabilities as well as her enthusiasm. After a very short time she was acting not only as clerk and secretary, but interviewing too, taking details of the volunteers who flocked into the office and making preliminary assessments of their capabilities. Since she knew nothing of nursing herself she was able to see the amusing side of this, but the Organizer was delighted with the work she was doing and delegated more and more responsibility to her as time went by.

  I should be very sorry to have to give it up, thought Barbara, and
she could see no reason why she should – at least not until her pregnancy was a good deal more advanced. It was not as if it was onerous work. If she had been a nursing orderly as she had originally intended it would have been different. Yet she suspected Erica would feel an expectant mother should be at home, preparing for the birth, and Marcus, as always, would be quite unpredictable.

  His state of mind continued to concern Barbara. A baby needed a stable background and two loving parents; Marcus just now was hardly likely to be able to provide that. Sometimes she felt that humouring his moods was almost like having a baby already, though no one outside the walls of Hillsbridge House would ever have guessed it. Would telling him that he was to be a father make him even more unstable? Would it spark off another violent attack on her? And if so would that cause harm to the baby?

  She was distressed, too, to think that one of these unloving occasions had been the cause of her pregnancy. A baby should be conceived in love, surely, if it was to be a happy child. And supposing Marcus’s instability was passed on to his child? This thought she tried to dismiss. Marcus was like he was now because of his terrible wartime experiences. He had been perfectly normal before and he would be normal again, when he finally managed to overcome his shock and the quite unfounded guilt he felt at having seen his men slaughtered. But it haunted her all the same.

  Lastly, Barbara worried that she was not the type to have a baby at all. In all her life she could never remember having had a single maternal thought; not for her the cosy dreams of a small sweet-smelling bundle suckling contentedly at her breast. Even now she was a little frightened by the thought of having responsibility for a tiny human being and the prospect of broken nights and lines full of nappies, even if she did not have to wash them, left her cold. And she was still so young! It was no time at all since she had been a schoolgirl. Now, with practically no warning, she was going to become a mother.

  For all this, there was inside her a small bubble of excitement. Barbara had always been thrilled by the unknown, attracted by fresh adventures. And having a baby was perhaps the greatest adventure of all.

  At the beginning of December she visited Dr Hobbs. The Spindlers were private patients and Dr Hobbs would have called to see her at Hillsbridge House if she had asked him to, but she did not want that. Better to retain a little privacy as long as she was able. But there was no question of her going to his surgery and waiting in his corridor-like waiting-room with all and sundry speculating on the reason for her being there. When she telephoned him Dr Hobbs suggested she should come to his home where a former lounge had been converted to a consulting room. And there, when he had examined her, Dr Hobbs confirmed what she already knew.

  Yes, she was pregnant, he was almost certain of it. He asked her questions, did quick calculations on the edge of his blotter and told her the baby would probably be born towards the end of June.

  ‘Let’s say the 28th, shall we?’ he suggested. ‘I’ll book it into my diary. You will want me to attend you, I expect? If I’m still here, that is. I’m expecting to be called up for military service at any time. If that happens I shall be patching up wounded soldiers, not delivering babies.’

  She nodded. June seemed so far off she was not going to concern herself yet about that. It was now that mattered.

  ‘It will be all right for me to go on working, won’t it?’ she asked. She had already told him about her work with the Civil Nursing Reserve and found it was not news to him – the Organizer had already complimented him on ‘that excellent girl of yours’ as if coming from Hillsbridge had somehow made him responsible for Barbara.

  ‘Good gracious, yes. Carry on just as long as you feel fit to do so,’ Dr Hobbs told her. ‘It’s fashionable, I know, to give up work as soon as you hear you are pregnant but I should think they will be very sorry to lose you a minute before they have to. And certainly it won’t do you any harm.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Barbara said. ‘I shall quote you to my mother-in-law. I can imagine her insisting I put my feet up and rest the minute she hears about it.’

  ‘Nonsense! How do you think working class women with families manage? No, you’ll be fine, Barbara. You are a strong and healthy young woman. You will sail through this pregnancy, I’ll bet my socks on it.’ He paused, looking at her over his half-moon spectacles. ‘I should think Marcus will be delighted, too. Something like this is just what he needs to help him get over what happened.’

  She glanced up sharply. Did he know then the state that Marcus was in? Had she at last found someone in whom she could confide?

  ‘Do you really think so?’ she asked eagerly.

  ‘I’m sure of it. An experience like that is bound to leave its mark on a man. We must be grateful Marcus is such a strong character. A lesser man could have his nerves shot to pieces by such a thing. But at least your husband has the satisfaction of knowing he came out of it a hero. That has helped him, I think. And becoming a father will be just the fillip he needs to heal the wounds completely. Life in place of death. Trite but true.’

  She nodded, but she was thinking: he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how bad Marcus is. And if he did not know then she could not tell him. It was not her place to do so, even if her pride would allow her to admit it. But it had given her an idea, all the same. When the opportunity arose she would suggest to Marcus that he ought to seek help. It seemed as if Dr Hobbs would be understanding and ‘nerves shot to pieces’as he had described it sounded almost as treatable as a broken leg. The load on her heart lightened a little and as she walked home she felt brighter and more hopeful than she had done for weeks.

  The elation lasted until she reached home. Marcus was already there and she could tell from his expression that he was in a surly mood.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he greeted her brusquely.

  ‘To see Dr Hobbs.’

  ‘What for? There’s nothing wrong with you is there?’

  Her heart sank. She did not want to tell him like this. She wanted to choose her moment.

  ‘I’m not ill, no.’

  ‘So what did you go to see him for?’

  There was no avoiding it.

  ‘I wanted him to confirm something I already suspected,’ she said. ‘I’m going to have a baby, Marcus. We’re going to have a baby.’

  For a moment he stared at her in disbelief. Then his eyes narrowed with the dark look she had come to fear.

  ‘All right. Whose is it?’ he barked at her.

  It was her turn to stare blankly.

  ‘What do you mean? Yours, of course.’

  ‘Don’t give me that!’ He crossed the room, taking her by the arms. ‘I’m not capable, Barbara. We both know that. So whose is it? Who have you been with? Tell me or I’ll beat it out of you!’

  ‘Marcus, for heaven’s sake, you’re mad!’ she cried, frightened by the violence in his face. ‘Of course I haven’t been with anybody else. When would I have the chance, anyway?’

  ‘You’re out often enough. Off to Bath. How should I know what you get up to? But I’ll find out. And when I do I’ll break his bloody neck …’

  His fingers were biting into her arms. She jerked angrily.

  ‘Let go of me! You’re hurting me!’

  ‘I’ll hurt you a lot more if you don’t tell me the truth!’

  ‘It is the truth! It’s your baby!’ she sobbed. ‘Though I wish to God it wasn’t!’

  His face contorted and she thought he was going to hit her. But he did not. Instead, he hurled her away from him, across the room. She cannoned into the edge of the bed and sank onto it, trembling with shock and fear. He followed, towering over her and she shrank back.

  ‘Don’t touch me! Don’t dare touch me! If you harm my baby I’ll never forgive you!’

  For a long moment neither moved. Then suddenly he was on the bed beside her, his arms around her. His mood had swung once more with the terrifying abruptness she had come to expect and now there was tenderness in his touch and contrition in his voice.


  ‘I’m sorry, darling, forgive me! Are you really going to have a baby?’

  ‘Yes. And it is yours.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t know … I didn’t know … I’m so useless, so bloody useless. How could I manage to …? Am I really going to be a father?’

  Her heart melted. It was almost as if he only remembered his failures, she thought, the times when he had tried to make love to her and been unable to and those other times, the times when he took her by force, had been wiped clean from his memory. Perhaps he was more of a Jekyll and Hyde than she had realised and he not only acted differently but became someone else, someone who ceased to exist and all his deeds with him, when he reverted to the other, normal Marcus.

  ‘Yes, you are going to be a father,’ she said. ‘In June.’ She paused. ‘Do you think – please, do you think we could make a fresh start?’

  He held her. ‘A baby. My baby. I can’t believe it! Oh Barbara, it’s wonderful news. Wonderful!’

  She smiled, smoothing the hair back from his face.

  ‘I’m glad you’re pleased,’ she said. And thought: maybe, maybe at last everything is going to change. Maybe at last it is going to be all right.

  They told Sir Richard and Lady Erica that evening after dinner and because they were talking about the baby they did not listen to the news as they usually did. When Milly, the old and faithful maid, came to serve coffee, she commented on the fact.

  ‘You haven’t got the wireless on tonight then, sir.’ They looked at her in surprise. It was unlike Milly to venture such comments.

  ‘No, we haven’t, Milly,’ Sir Richard said. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘You’ll have missed it then, won’t you?’ She sounded excited.

  ‘Missed it? Missed what?’

  The coffee pot was shaking in her hand. ‘They gave it out just now. We were listening in the kitchen.’

  ‘Gave what out?’

  ‘The Japs have bombed Pearl Harbor.’