Inherit the Skies Page 42

  I am only glad I have the convalescent home to keep me going, Alicia thought grimly.

  A few weeks later Hugh left to return to the front and scarcely had he gone than news began to come through that things were hotting up. The stranglehold of winter was easing now and there were new battles to be fought back and forth across the French countryside along the line where the name places, once obscure and unheard of except by the people who lived in them, were destined to be on every tongue and enter the annals of history. In March came the battle of Neuve Chapelle; in April the second battle of Ypres, which people had christened ‘Wipers’; when Maytime was covering English trees in blossom those around Aubers Ridge were being blasted into shrivelled stumps. The casualty lists were depressingly long now, everyone, it seemed, knew someone who had been killed or wounded, and a depression seemed to hang over the countryside so that the sunshine had an aurora of darkness around it and the sky, though clear and blue, seemed heavy with threatening storms.

  Stories had trickled through from the front too of a new horror – the Germans were using gas on the British troops. At first the suggestion was almost too obscene to credit, but at Chewton Leigh a letter from Adam confirmed that it was true. Flying over the Ypres Salient one April evening he had seen what looked like greenish yellow smoke wafting away from the German trenches; going down to take a closer look he had been able to identify it for what it was – gas. Gilbert, with his typically English sense of fair play, was shocked; he had not believed anyone, not even the Germans, could stoop so low. He much preferred to believe in the spirit of comradeship which existed between the aviators and which Adam had described in earlier letters.

  One letter in particular had caused considerable interest when read aloud over breakfast:

  We were in the Mess last night when someone came rushing in and said he had seen two German airmen being frogmarched along by some Zouave soldiers and a mob of French civilians. They were jeering at the two poor fellows, spitting and pelting them with anything they could get their hands on. We were outraged. The entire squadron piled into a lorry and went out to look for them. When we caught up with them we explained, politely enough, that as they had been shot down by the British they were British prisoners and we wished to take them over but the French would have none of it. They became very excited at the prospect of losing their sport and in the end there was nothing for it but for us to show them we meant business. There was quite a scuffle but we had our way. When we returned to our base we not only had the Germans but also the two Zouaves. We had to take some of the more belligerent of the French with us as prisoners too but had to release them later, a little the worse for drink. I do not expect them to be quite so abusive to German aviators in future.

  The letter had brought a little light relief but this was short lived. Perhaps, thought Gilbert, the Frenchmen had not been so wrong after all – if the Germans could descend to such brutalities as gas to win a hasty victory then they could hardly expect to be treated as gentlemen, aviators or not.

  Because Adam’s letters went to Chewton Leigh House Sarah had to be content to get news of him second-hand and each day when she went to the works she sought Gilbert out in a ferment of anxiety. She could not always ask if there was news of Adam of course; a little interest was understandable but to allow Gilbert to see that she thought of little else would quickly have aroused his suspicions. But at least simply talking with Gilbert could set her mind at rest for a little while, for the old maxim ‘no news is good news’ held good. If Gilbert was his normal self then all must be well with Adam. It was not much, but it had to suffice. And it was only when she was back in her own office that the thought would strike her: mail took at least four days to get through – a letter received today from Adam did not necessarily mean he was still alive. He could have been shot down in the meantime and they would not know.

  But I would know, Sarah comforted herself. If anything happened to Adam I am quite sure I would know. And she would turn her mind determinedly to the papers she was working on – papers she had taken over from Lawrence, whom she knew was in truth no longer fit to be working at all.

  Of all the family she was the only one who knew how seriously ill Lawrence was. She had gone into his office one day, rushing in unexpectedly as she so often did without knocking, to find him slumped in his chair with his head in his hands.

  ‘Lawrence – whatever is the matter?’ she had demanded, and caught at a low ebb he had told her.

  ‘You must go to a sanatorium!’ she told him when he had finished. ‘ If Dr Haley says so – you must!’

  He shook his head. ‘And have Leo step into my shoes? Not likely! It’s bad enough now keeping the little rat from ousting me. I know Father doesn’t like him but he’s so damned persistent it’s hard to refuse him especially when I know damned well I’m not on top of my work. Look at the pile of returns I have to do now! It seems to get bigger every day.’

  ‘That’s because you’re not fit, Lawrence,’ Sarah said. She was desperately worried by the drawn look of him but since she disliked Leo every bit as much as he did she could well understand his feelings. ‘Look – can I help? I’m not exactly overloaded with work these days – in fact I had been wondering if I could take on other responsibilities. Just tell me what I have to do …’

  And so she had become Lawrence’s secret ally, her sharp brain quickly assimilating the knowledge and taking over much of the work which he had found demanding even when he had been well.

  The extra work stimulated her; it took her mind off her worries about Adam – and about Eric, who was now flying patrols to watch out for the Zeppelins which had begun offensives on the east coast. This was another departure which had been received with horror and near disbelief – German bombs actually falling on English towns and killing people in their own homes – shocking! Where would it all end? But at least the peace of Somerset was relatively undisturbed. At least they could go to sleep at night safe in their own beds – it was something to be thankful for.

  The long school summer holidays, when they came, posed something of a problem for Sarah, who had been unable to find a replacement nanny for Stephen. The whole servant problem was as bad as ever, as Blanche was only too fond of complaining, for most of the girls who had not turned to nursing had run off to work in munitions factories where there was more money to be made in a week than most of them had earned in a month in service, and they enjoyed personal freedom beyond their wildest dreams. The only applicants Sarah had interviewed for the post had been totally unsuitable and the problem seemed insoluble. During term time, Annie was quite happy to collect Stephen from nursery school along with John, give him tea and entertain him until Sarah arrived to take him home, but Sarah was loath to impose on her friend’s easy going hospitality from morning till night for the duration of the summer. If Annie had a nanny it would be a different matter, but she did not, for she had steadfastly refused to employ one in spite of pressure from Max who thought it would be a status symbol.

  ‘I didn’t have John for someone else to look after him,’ she would say, her sweet face so set and determined that Max knew argument was useless.

  Being aware of Annie’s views on the subject made Sarah even more reluctant to beg her assistance for she thought Annie would think her a poor sort of mother not to want to spend the summer with her only son. But when she summoned the courage to raise the question she found Annie only too ready to oblige.

  ‘Good gracious, Sarah, of course I don’t mind! Stephen is wonderful company for John – they are just like brothers. Better than brothers, in fact, being the same age.’

  ‘Bless you, Annie!’ Sarah hugged her. ‘You don’t know what a weight you have taken off my mind. I was so afraid you wouldn’t approve. I know how much store you set on a mother having a close relationship with her child.’

  ‘Well, it’s easy for me, isn’t it? I haven’t anything else to do, while you … you are working for the war effort, aren’t you?’


  Sarah refrained from saying she would hope to be doing something other than simply being a mother, war or no war.

  ‘I know how busy you are,’ Annie went on. ‘What with all the aeroplanes that are needed – and the engines too. There simply aren’t enough being built in this country, Max says, and they are having to be obtained from abroad. I think that’s shameful. But I’ll let you into a secret. I couldn’t work now even if I wanted to because …’ her round face flushed with pleasure, ‘well, I’m going to have another baby!’

  ‘You are? When?’

  ‘In November. Don’t sound so surprised!’ Annie twinkled. ‘Why shouldn’t I have another baby? Married people do, you know.’

  ‘Yes of course and I’m delighted for you, Annie,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s just that … well, Max is hardly ever at home is he?’ She broke off, flushing as she realised this was a rather immodest thing to say even to her friend, but if Annie thought so she gave no sign of it.

  ‘Oh I know, he’s so busy, Sarah, with this new project of his. Of course it’s all top secret and he does seem to spend more time locked up in that office of his than anywhere else. Often I’m fast asleep long before he comes home. I only hope he’ll have a little more time to himself soon or John will hardly know him – and the new baby will be practically fatherless!’ She broke off, biting her lip. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t complain, though. At least I know he’s safe at Chewton Leigh, not off halfway across the world, fighting Germans.’

  Sarah’s stomach contracted. ‘So it’s all right for Stephen to come to you during the holidays?’ she asked quickly in order to change the subject.

  ‘Of course it is. I’m only surprised you thought you had to ask.’

  And so, when nursery school disbanded for the summer holidays, Sarah took Stephen each day to Annie’s house and collected him each evening.

  Though she was grateful for the arrangement and though she admitted she would have gone crazy with boredom if she had had to stay at home with him all day as Annie did, yet perversely she was slightly discomfited by the eagerness with which he left her, jumping out of the motor and skipping up the path to Annie’s pretty little cottage where roses trailed around the door like the setting for a popular song without so much as a backward glance. Often Annie, coming out to meet him with John at her heels like a lively puppy, had to tell him to wave goodbye to his mother and sometimes when she arrived to collect him she was greeted with groans and cries of: ‘Oh no! Can’t I stay just a little longer? We were just going to …’

  On occasions such as these Sarah heard her voice become very firm like a schoolmarm. ‘No, you can’t, Stephen. It’s bedtime and you have been bothering Aunt Annie quite long enough.’

  ‘But Mama …’

  ‘No!’ And she was truthful enough to admit that her sharpness stemmed partly from the fact that he seemed a great deal more at home with Annie and John than he did with her. Surely he should be at least a little pleased to see her? But he never seemed to be. She was just a nuisance – a killjoy, spoiling his fun.

  Perhaps it is time we had a holiday, Sarah thought. Just a little one, just long enough for me to get to know my son a bit better.

  A whole week was out of the question; she did not feel she could abandon Lawrence for that long. But perhaps a few days would be possible. She mentioned the idea to Annie who responded enthusiastically; a couple of days by the sea would be lovely. Neither did Gilbert raise any objections – Sarah had been working too hard in his opinion and a break would do her good.

  At once Sarah set the arrangements in hand and on a lovely Saturday in early July the two girls and the children set off in Sarah’s motor for the south coast. The sun was shining from a clear sky, the air was warm and calm, everything augured well for a pleasant break. But for some reason she could not comprehend Sarah felt uneasy. As she and Annie sat companionably side by side on the shingly beach watching the children run and play in the breakers and search for unusual shells and pebbles to outdo one another it nagged at her like a persistent rash, a nameless foreboding which refused to be stilled.

  Perhaps, she told herself, it was an echo of that other day when she and Annie had been at the seaside with the children – the day war had been declared. But somehow she could not believe that that alone would cause her to be quite so apprehensive. She thought of Adam somewhere in France and wondered if some sixth sense was warning her that he was in danger; she thought of Eric, flying daily as both instructor and operational scout, and said a silent prayer for their safety. But the apprehension remained, feeding on itself until the very sunshine seemed darkened by it.

  The beach was almost deserted – war time seemed to have kept people at home. The boys explored happily and even ran a small way into a tunnel in the rocks.

  ‘Mama – there’s a cave! It’s very dark and wet – but there’s light at the other end. Can we go and see where it leads?’

  ‘No, Stephen. Stay here on the beach.’ She sounded snappy and Annie frowned.

  ‘Is anything wrong, Sarah? You seem very preoccupied.’

  ‘I expect I’ve been working too hard. I can’t unwind. I keep worrying about … I don’t know really.’

  ‘The holiday won’t do you a bit of good unless you relax. Things will go on without you very nicely, you know.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’ But she made up her mind that she would seek out a telephone as soon as the opportunity arose and put through a call, if only to reassure herself that all was indeed well.

  Towards the end of the afternoon they packed their things together and made their way back up the steep cliff path. The boys scrambled on ahead, their eager feet kicking up small showers of stones which cascaded to the beach far below.

  ‘Be careful!’ Sarah warned, still affected by the inexplicable feeling of unease.

  The boarding house door stood ajar; they made the boys kick the sand off their shoes on the bootscraper and went into the hall. As they started up the stairs the woman who kept the boarding house came bustling into the hall, her face a little flushed.

  ‘You’re back. Good. This wire came for you …’ She held out a buff envelope, uncertain which of them to give it to. ‘Mrs Gardiner …?’

  Sarah’s apprehension came rushing back, forming a nervous lump in her throat. ‘I’ll take it.’

  ‘Not bad news, I hope?’ The woman hovered, her small eyes beady in her plump pink face.

  Sarah took the envelope. It was all she could do to keep from opening it immediately but she waited until she was away from the woman’s curious gaze. Her fingers, trembled slightly as she ripped it open and the bald words leaped up at her, then a combination of anxiety and relief made her go weak. Bad enough – but not as bad as she had feared. She looked up. The others had frozen a tableau around her, Annie, the colour drained from her face, chewing her nail and clearly afraid to ask the question that was burning on her lips, the boys, their naturally ebullient natures sobered by the mood of the adults, and the awesome sight of that sheet of buff paper which could inspire such fear.

  ‘Is it …?’ Annie formed the words with lips gone dry as dust.

  ‘No.’ Sarah shook her head, answering the unspoken question. ‘It’s Lawrence. He collapsed at the office this morning.’

  ‘Lawrence?’

  ‘He’s ill. He’s been ill for a long time and I knew it. I should never have left him.’ Her mind was racing. She folded the wire and replaced it in its envelope. ‘Annie, would you mind very much if I went home? I’m the only one who really knows about Lawrence’s work. I think I shall be needed.’

  ‘Of course,’ Annie said loyally, though she looked disappointed. ‘We’ll pack immediately.’

  The boys set up a clamour of protest and Sarah said hastily: ‘There’s no need for you to come too unless you want to. Why don’t you and the boys stay here as planned – if you think you can cope with them, that is.’

  ‘I could cope, of course,’ Annie assured her, ‘and I dare say we could come home on the
train to save you driving all the way back for us, Sarah. The boys would like that, wouldn’t you, boys?’

  ‘Yes! Yes!’ Neither seemed unduly bothered that Sarah was leaving now that they knew their holiday was safe and the prospect of a ride in a steam train never failed to excite them.

  Sarah nodded. ‘That’s decided, then. I’ll pack right away.’

  ‘Oh not tonight, Sarah!’ Annie pleaded. ‘You must have something to eat and a good night’s rest first.’

  Sarah considered and decided she owed this much at least to Annie.

  ‘Very well. I’ll go first thing in the morning.’

  When the boys were in bed she and Annie sat in the comfortable lounge in the fading light, talking about the war and its implications – and about Lawrence.

  ‘I’m sorry to leave you in the lurch, Annie, but I believe he is seriously ill,’ Sarah said. ‘I’ve kept what I knew about him to myself and I suppose I shouldn’t have but it was what he wanted. Anyway, now it’s all out in the open, but I do feel I owe it to him to keep an eye on things until he’s able to take over himself – if he ever can.’

  ‘That bad?’ Annie asked gently.

  ‘I think so. Anyway, thank you for being so sporting about it – and thanks for staying on with Stephen. He would have been so disappointed if he had had to go home.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure. I’m not clever like you, Sarah, but I like to do what I can.’

  ‘You are a wonderful person, Annie. Max and John are very lucky.’ She hugged her friend, meaning every word she said. Annie was the sweetest, most unselfish person she knew and she very much wished she could be just a little like her. But she knew if she lived to be a hundred she never would.

  Next morning dawned, another fine day. They all had breakfast together at the same table in the bay window. Above the craggy cliff top the sky was the same cloudless blue.

  ‘I think you are in for a couple of really scorching days,’ Sarah said.