The Soldier's Daughter (41 page)

‘Pull yourself together,’ she muttered beneath her breath. ‘It’s just those two glasses of sherry you’ve had that are making you so silly. Why shouldn’t Megan kiss Howel?’ Even so, she swung about and waltzed off to the ladies’ cloakroom to collect her coat.

Once outside the hall she hesitated. She had had every intention of walking home alone, but everywhere looked so different in the dark and she was afraid that she might stray too close to the cliff-edge. Then Howel appeared – and when he saw her waiting, he sighed with relief.

‘Where did you get to?’ he scolded, tucking her arm through his. ‘I was looking for you and began to worry that you’d gone without me.’

‘I was just about to,’ she told him stroppily, although she had no idea why she should be annoyed.

‘Well, I’ve found you now,’ he grinned, and turning up the collar of his coat he hurried her through the darkness.

On 6 January Mrs Dower was mortified to hear on the wireless that Amy Johnson, the first female flyer who had made history by flying solo to Australia, was missing, feared dead.

‘Her plane went down in the Thames, poor young lady. They’ve found the wreckage, but no sign of her body.’ Mrs Dower tutted. ‘Who’d ever have thought that man – or woman, for that matter – would fly?’ She found the whole concept of air travel incredible.

Briony agreed that it was a great shame, but nothing could spoil her mood that day because she had finally received a letter from Ernie. Although it was heavily censored, reading between the lines she guessed that he was in Italy. She knew that the RAF had recently bombed Naples as well as some of the Italian bases in Libya, and the idea that he was involved in those raids was frightening.

I think of you all the time when I’m in my plane
, he told her.
And it’s the thought of coming back to you that keeps me strong. I don’t know when I will be home again, but please wait for me
.

I’ll wait forever
, Briony promised him, and she carried the letter about with her for days in her apron pocket.

The winter was severe and they all began to feel like prisoners, but at last in March the weather took a turn for the better and daffodils and tulips began to push through the earth. Soft green buds appeared on the trees and everything was slowly coming back to life after a long hibernation.

Briony was becoming ever more concerned about her grandmother’s health and had mentioned it to Dr Restarick one day when he came to give them an update in person on Sarah’s progress. Thankfully, it was good news: the little girl might well be home within a couple of months, although he warned Briony that her sister’s leg had been severely affected by the disease.

‘Does that mean she will have to wear a calliper?’ Briony asked fearfully, and when he lowered his head she had her answer. It seemed unbelievable that the child could be crippled for life, but then Briony supposed that she should count her blessings. At least Sarah had survived, unlike the little evacuee boy from the village who would never be going home.

‘And my grandmother?’ she asked Dr Restarick now. ‘What can I do to help her? She doesn’t even seem to know who I am most of the time, although she is more like her old self whenever Sebastian is home.’

‘There’s not a lot you can do for her, other than keep your eye on her,’ the doctor told her truthfully. He was secretly disgusted at the way Sebastian treated his mother and would have liked to take a horse-whip to him. ‘But if you get really concerned, let me know and I’ll come straight out. I doubt she’d tolerate a nurse coming out to see to her.’

Briony thanked him, and when he was gone she began to make plans for Sarah’s homecoming even though it might still be some weeks away. It seemed such a long time since they had seen her, and she intended to guard the girl with her life when she came back.

Her happy mood was marred later that afternoon when Sebastian returned with two of his cronies in tow. She had seen neither of these two before, but she didn’t like the look of them at all. They were big burly men who both spoke with a broad cockney accent, and eyed her lasciviously as she served them afternoon tea and cake in the dining room. Sebastian informed her curtly that they would only be staying the one night, so that was something to be thankful for at least. Even so, she kept the children close to her after she had fetched them home from school, and she bolted shut the green baize door leading to the main house. The way she saw it, there was no point in asking for trouble.

Mrs Dower came as usual to cook the main meal and as soon as it had been eaten they heard Sebastian and his friends leave the house.

‘I’m praying they’ll be gone tomorrow,’ Briony commented to Mrs Dower.

‘Well, we can live in hope!’ the woman responded. She hadn’t liked the look of the men any more than Briony had.

Just before she left, she looked at the dwindling log-pile by the side of the fireplace and asked, ‘Hasn’t our Howel been over to stock up the logs yet?’

Briony shook her head. ‘No. I haven’t seen him since he brought the supplies over this morning.’

‘That’s strange. I could have sworn he said he was coming over to do it this evening. Mind you, he’s been getting the sheep back up into the top field all afternoon now the weather’s picking up a bit, so one of them might have started to lamb and he wouldn’t leave till the ewe had delivered safely.’

Briony wasn’t overly concerned. She was more than capable of getting a few logs in if need be. Howel was very reliable and she had no doubt he’d get there as soon as he could, so she went about her work and didn’t give it a second thought.

The night was darkening as Mrs Dower looked towards the kitchen window at Kynance Farm and commented to her husband, ‘Howel’s late back, isn’t he? He should have been home hours ago. Do you reckon everything’s all right?’

As Caden Dower tapped out his pipe in the hearth he said. ‘The boy is a bit late, now you come to mention it. I reckon I’ll put my boots on and take a wander up to the top field to see what’s keeping him. He might be having problems with one of the pregnant ewes.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ Annik agreed, and her knitting needles began to click furiously again as her husband got ready for the outdoors.

It was pitch black now but the dark held no fears for Caden Dower. He had been working this land since he was a young lad and could have found his way about blindfolded if need be.

Whistling softly, he crossed the yard, but Ben his sheepdog didn’t appear so he knew that his grandson must have taken him along with him to round up the sheep. He headed surefootedly for the top field, keeping a constant lookout for Howel and straining his ears – but all he heard was the sound of the night creatures.

When he reached the top field, Caden hopped over a stile with surprising agility for a man his age, and then hands on hips, he peered ahead. The sheep were grazing, which told him that Howel had completed his job – but where was he? He whistled once again and this time was rewarded when he heard what sounded like a whimper coming from close to the hedge further up the field. Seconds later, Ben came wagging up to him, but knowing his dog as he did, Caden saw that he was upset.

‘What’s up then, my fine lad?’ The old man bent to stroke the dog’s coat, and when Ben took off again – limping, he noticed – he followed him closely.

Seconds later, Ben began to bark and as Mr Dower caught up with him he felt as if he had been winded. A dark shape lay in the lee of the hedge, and as he knelt down, he saw that it was Howel and that the young man wasn’t moving.

‘What the . . .’ His words trailed away, and at that moment the moon sailed from behind the clouds and he gasped: Howel was covered in blood.

Mr Dower thrust his hand beneath Howel’s shirt and then sent up a silent prayer of thanks as he found a heartbeat.

‘You’ll have to stay here a while longer, my fine boy, while I go for help,’ he muttered to the still figure. ‘There’s no way I could carry you all the way back to the farm, but I’ll be back afore you know it.’ And then he was off, running like a hare across the field as he headed for the inn at Poldak. There would be men there who would help him to get Howel safely back home, and he didn’t have a moment to lose.

*

Annik Dower wrenched open the kitchen door, heedless of the blackout for now, when she heard a small procession of men crunching across the yard. They were carrying what appeared to be a door.

‘What’s happened?’ she demanded. ‘Is someone hurt?’

‘It’s poor Howel,’ her husband answered. ‘He’s hurt, but don’t fret. They telephoned the doctor from the inn when I went for help, and he should be here at any minute.’

The men carried the door into the kitchen, and Mrs Dower’s hand flew to her mouth as she saw the state of her beloved grandson. Talwyn had been sitting quietly in a chair by the fire but now she began to rock to and fro, whimpering in distress.

It was clear that Howel had taken a severe beating. Both of his eyes were so swollen that she doubted he would have been able to open them even if he had been conscious, and a deep gash on his cheek was oozing blood. His mouth was swollen too, although it was hard to assess how bad his injuries were because of the amount of blood that was even now drying on his face. He was also deathly cold.

‘Lord help us,’ one of the men said now. ‘Looks like the lousy swines had a go at poor old Ben and all – look!’ And true enough, they saw that the old dog was drooping now; there was blood seeping out of his side.

‘He’d have attacked them if they were hurting his master,’ Mrs Dower said chokily and stood for a moment indecisively, not knowing which of the casualties to see to first. Howel had been just a young lad when they took on Ben, and the dog totally adored him. But then thankfully Dr Restarick strode into the kitchen, asking, ‘What’s gone on here, then?’

Caden Dower hastily told him all he could.

‘Right – well, carry this door through to the sitting room for me,’ the doctor ordered, shrugging out of his coat. ‘Then I’ll have a look at the damage. Meantime, you’d best attend to the dog. He doesn’t look in too good shape to me.’ It was true. Now that his master was safely home, Ben had slunk into a corner and dropped like a stone, his breathing shallow.

Mr Dower quickly went to him while his wife hovered at the sitting-room door, waiting for news of her beloved grandson.

It was some time before the doctor came out and informed her briskly, ‘From what I can see, your grandson has been very lucky. There’s no sign of hypothermia. He’s got a nasty gash on his cheek which I’ve cleaned and stitched up, but the rest is only superficial cuts and bruising, although I reckon he’ll look as if he’s done ten rounds with Joe Louis, come morning. He’s got a cracked rib as well. I’m afraid this will mean he’s going to be off his feet for a few weeks. He may have some concussion as well when he comes round, but keep him warm, get plenty of liquids inside him and make him rest if you can.’ Then glancing towards Caden, who was gently cleaning the blood from his dog’s flank, he asked, ‘And how’s the old boy doing?’

He was shocked to see there were tears shining in the man’s eyes as he looked back at him and replied, ‘They’ve stabbed him, I reckon.’ There was a tremor in his voice and although he was no vet Dr Restarick dropped to his knees beside him to examine the wound.

‘I think you’re right.’ The dog was clearly in shock now that the crisis was over, and who knew what internal injuries he might have sustained.

‘But who would do such a thing?’ Mrs Dower sobbed. ‘Howel hasn’t got an enemy in the world.’

The doctor sighed wordlessly. He didn’t have an answer and doubted that the dog would last till morning, although he didn’t tell them that.

He rose and after slipping his coat back on, he fumbled in his black bag and handed a small phial to Mrs Dower. ‘When Howel wakes up, make sure he takes a few drops of that. It will ease the pain,’ he told her. ‘And I’ll be back as soon as morning surgery is over tomorrow. If you need me before then, don’t hesitate to get in touch.’

‘I will, Doctor. And thank you.’ She saw him to the door then before hastening away to clean Howel up and sit with him.

It looked set to be a very long night.

After Briony had taken the children to school the following morning she hurried back to The Heights feeling slightly concerned. Howel still hadn’t put in an appearance, as yet which was very unusual. He was usually up with the lark delivering the day’s supplies to her. But then she knew that he had been busy with the lambing for the last few days, so that was probably what had kept him.

When she had served her grandmother breakfast, and helped her to get washed and changed, she was relieved to see no sign of Sebastian and his friends. They were probably lying in bed feeling the worse for wear after a night on the ale, she thought to herself. That suited her just fine. With luck they would drag themselves up and leave, and she wouldn’t have to set eyes on them again.

As she was carrying the breakfast things from the dining room into the kitchen, she saw her uncle coming downstairs with his two friends. If they want me to start making them fresh tea and breakfast, they can go and whistle, Briony fumed. However, it seemed that the visitors were more intent on getting away than eating, and as she caught a fleeting glimpse of one of them, her eyes widened. He had a right shiner on him. Served him right! He’d probably opened his mouth too wide to one of the local men. Cornish men were known not to suffer fools gladly, and maybe he’d keep his mouth shut in future.

By mid-morning Briony could contain her anxiety no longer, so after serving tea and homemade shortbread to Mrs Frasier, she set off for Kynance Farm.

As she stepped into the farmyard she waited for Ben to come wagging out of his kennel to greet her as he usually did, but there was no sign of him so she assumed he was out, with either Howel or Mr Dower. Making her way through the chickens pecking in the yard, she tapped on the kitchen door before entering. There was no sign of the menfolk, but the minute she set eyes on Annik Dower she knew that something was badly wrong. The woman’s eyes were red-rimmed, although she managed a watery smile.