Come Home Soon (9 page)

Sixteen

Ellie flung down her book and hurtled into the kitchen, which was thick with the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg. Seizing a tea towel, she opened the oven door and yanked out the tray of mince pies. Just in time. The pastry was golden and flaking, the fruit glistening stickily in the centres.

Leaving the tray on the sideboard, Ellie dug around in the cupboard for the cooling tray, and transferred the pies to it, giving little gasps of pain as the hot pastries burned her fingertips. Her mother would have chided her and told her to wait until they were cooler. But her mother was not at home; it was the evening of her knitting group. She had been going for a few weeks now and, to Ellie's surprise, showed no sign of renouncing her promise to Thomas. She had discovered that the other ladies loved it when she brought Charlie with her. Given that she wasn't exactly adept at these social situations, his presence had soon proven invaluable. He'd become a permanent fixture after the first few sessions and Ellie had been enjoying the time to herself, free from Charlie-minding duties and her mother's supervision.

Ellie yanked the last pie from the tin too roughly and it crumbled in her hand, piping hot pieces of fruit tumbling into her palm. She crammed the whole thing into her mouth, her burned tongue a worthwhile sacrifice for the explosion of sweet and spicy flavours. Licking the last crumbs from her fingers, she surveyed the rack of cooling pies. Jack loved mince pies. He loved most food, but he had an especially sweet tooth. She hadn't seen him for more than a few fleeting moments since their walk round the village back in November. Mother never liked Ellie to visit the Scott house – it was at least a year since she'd been there – but her mother wasn't here, and what she didn't know couldn't hurt her.

Ellie found a basket in the cupboard under the stairs, lined it with a clean cloth and piled it high with mince pies, before tucking another cloth neatly on top. She, Charlie and Mother would never manage them all anyway, she thought to herself. Wrapping herself up in scarf, hat, gloves, coat and boots, she left the house and hooked the basket over her bicycle handlebars. Then she set off for Jack's house.

The path down to the village was gently sloping, and the frost and icy puddles made it more treacherous. Ellie took the descent slowly. It was only when she got to the square that she began to enjoy skid-sliding across the cobbles.

On the far side of the village from Ellie's home was a grid of terraced streets, in which most of the factory workers lived. King George Street was one of these, lined with tiny, identical, red brick houses, nestling snug against each other. A group of small children was playing in the road; Ellie had to swerve to avoid their ball game. She noticed George among them and waved, but he was too absorbed in his game to see her – or realise that his scarf was trailing behind him and in danger of getting tangled around his legs.

When she got to Jack's house, halfway down the street, she found it was even smaller than she remembered. She marvelled that they all fit in, especially with Will and Jack grown so big.

After leaning her bicycle against the front wall, Ellie noticed that the door was ajar. Without thinking, she pushed through it and into the small hallway. Light was coming from the kitchen so she strode in, pulling herself up short when she saw Mrs Scott sitting at the kitchen table, staring into the distance, her face stained with tears, twisting a handkerchief round and round in her hands.

Ellie swallowed an exclamation of shock and began to back out of the room, but just then Mrs Scott looked up.

“Ellie! What a lovely surprise! It's been a long time since we've seen you here!” Her voice sounded thick, but she stretched her mouth into a broad smile as though nothing out of the ordinary were happening.

“I know, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude.”

“Not at all, don't be silly!” Mrs Scott wiped her eyes with a studied casual air. “Jack's not home from work yet but he won't be long. Won't you stay for a cup of tea? It's so nice to see you.”

“Well, if you really don't mind. . .”

“Of course not.” Mabel bustled around the kitchen, filling the kettle and putting it on the range. All the while she kept up a stream of questions; about school, about Ellie's family, about how Thomas was getting on at the surgery. . . She seemed delighted with the mince pies and exclaimed over how delicious they smelled.

It was in the middle of one of these rhapsodies of praise that she was interrupted by a loud snore from the other room. Just like that, Mabel's face crumpled. She turned away quickly, feigning a need to refill the milk jug, but not before Ellie had seen her expression.

“Mrs Scott . . . is . . . is everything all right? Was that . . . Mr Scott?”

“You really must call me Mabel, Ellie. I'm fine, my dear, just fine. Yes, that's Joe.” She gave a bright laugh that rang shrilly through the kitchen. “I'm afraid he's had one too many at The Dog and is sleeping it off. He . . . ah . . . he was sent home from the factory today.”

Mabel still had her back turned, but there was something so sad in the droop of her shoulders that Ellie felt tears welling in her own eyes.

“Was . . . was that why you were crying?”

“Ah. . .”

Ellie got to her feet and went to stand beside the older woman. After a few seconds, and a little nervously, she put her arm around her. Mabel seemed to collapse under this small gesture, her shoulders shaking.

“Oh, goodness, what a silly fuss,” she mumbled. “I am sorry, Ellie.”

“Please don't be sorry! But . . . is there anything I can do? I don't like to see you like this.”

“Oh, I'm fine, really, quite all right.” Mabel shook her head as though to clear it. “So silly, making such a scene, when so many are much worse off.”

Ellie led her back to the table and they sat down side by side. Mabel's hand found its way to Ellie's.

“You're not making a scene. But sometimes it helps to talk about things,” Ellie suggested cautiously.

Another tear trickled down Mabel's nose. “I . . . I can't really.”

“I promise I won't say anything. Is it about Mr Scott? Is he . . . unwell again?” Ellie blushed, unsure how to speak about Joe's drinking. “Is he still upset about the white feather. . . ? Or maybe worried about Will?”

“Oh, yes, all of that.” Mabel dropped her voice to a whisper. “I shouldn't say anything, but I can't— It's so hard.”

Ellie thought of her own mother breaking down in front of Thomas and gave Mabel's hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I never really understood why my Joe was so against the war,” Mabel went on, still in hushed tones. “I mean, heaven knows I don't like the idea of it either and I certainly don't like my boy being out there.” She paused to blow her nose and dab at her eyes. “But Joe came in the other night from the pub, talking and talking, and I don't think he really knew what he was saying. . . I'm sure he doesn't remember telling me anything, though he begged me not to tell the children. He said . . . he said he had a brother – a brother I never even knew about – who went away to the Boer War. Teddy, he was called.”

Ellie's brow furrowed. How strange it must feel to suddenly learn something so significant about your husband. And she remembered, suddenly, Aunt Frances talking about the Boer Wars and how many men she'd known who went away and didn't come back.

“Teddy was a good bit older than Joe and I think he looked up to him, wanted to be like him, you know?” Ellie thought of Charlie gazing longingly at George; George so keen for Jack's approval. “Joe hated being left behind when Teddy went to war. He wanted to join up himself, just like our Jack does now. But . . . but. . .” She took a juddering breath.

“Teddy didn't come home?” Ellie suggested softly.

“No, he did, he did. But honestly it might have been better if he didn't.” Ellie couldn't contain a gasp. “I know, my love, it's a terrible thing to say, but he was blind and had a bullet wound to his leg, which had got infected on the ship home. . . He died only a few days after he got back, in an awful amount of pain and completely horrified by what he'd seen and done. My poor Joe has been haunted by these stories ever since. And I just can't stop thinking about it. My poor Will out there now—” She broke off, hand to her chest.

Ellie felt sick. She didn't know what to say. “No . . . no wonder he doesn't want to go to war.”

“I know. . . He says he feels ill with fear at the thought of going, and at the idea that Will is out there, risking his life. . . And he's ashamed, so ashamed. . . I think that's why the . . . the drinking has got so much worse.”

Ellie felt a pang of sympathy for the man she'd judged so harshly.

“Oh, Ellie, please don't say anything to our Jack, will you? I feel I've betrayed Joe as it is. But I needed to talk to someone; it was eating me away!”

“I know the feeling,” Ellie said. “And I promise I won't say anything to Jack, or to anyone else.”

“Oh, goodness, he must be almost home. What will he think if he catches us like this?”

Mabel hurried to the sink to splash her face and Ellie joined her there. They laughed at each other's puffy eyes and blotchy skin – what else could they do? They were still giggling when Jack and Anna returned, both in festive high spirits.

Ellie stayed for a few games of cards, and the Scotts munched on mince pies, praising how tasty they were, though Jack teased her about them all being different sizes and some a little lopsided.

After an hour, Ellie got up to leave. Her mother would be home from knitting soon. Jack said he'd see her safely back so she wished the others a happy Christmas and they set off, cycling side by side.

They stopped a few yards from her garden gate.

“Just in case your mam's back already,” Jack said, eyes wide in mock fear, which made Ellie giggle again. He reached out his hand and she took it, both of them still sitting on their bicycles in the moonlight, looking at each other in silence.

After a long moment she laughed. “Go on home with you, you daft thing!”

“Oh, that's just charming.” Jack grinned as he released her hand and turned his bicycle back towards the village. “When exactly are you off to finishing school, Miss Phillips? The sooner the better, I say!”

She was still smiling as she walked into the house. Even the horrible story she'd heard earlier could not entirely dampen her spirits.

Seventeen

Despite everything that had happened over the course of the year, despite Father not being there, Christmas Day was a cheerful affair. Aunt Frances had a few days' leave and had come to stay. And at Ellie's suggestion, Mother had invited Thomas to join them. He wasn't able to leave the surgery for long enough to go back to his parents' home in Norwich.

Ellie and Aunt Frances had prepared the dinner together and, although food wasn't quite as plentiful as on a normal Christmas Day, Ellie thought they had done a good job. Cooking was a lot more fun with Aunt Frances there, telling stories from her past few months nursing.

One soldier she had treated had suffered concussion from a nasty blow to the head. When he came round, he suddenly spoke fluent French, despite never, as far as anyone knew, having spoken a word of it before. Another had lost a leg – a story which made Ellie shudder. Aunt Frances dreaded him coming round and having to break the news to him. But although he had cried and clung to her hand when she first told him, by the end of the day he was making jokes about it, and a week later had decided that it might even mean he could go to university as he'd always wanted, rather than managing the family estate. They fell silent at the end of this story. How remarkable some people were, Ellie thought.

Mother had made the table look beautiful, getting out the silverware and even lighting some candles. Thomas poured glasses of the sherry for himself, Aunt Frances and Mother, splashing a drop or two into the bottom of a glass for Ellie. She put a beaker of cordial in front of Charlie, who was eyeing the potatoes greedily. Thomas raised his glass.

“Thank you to the wonderful Phillips ladies for preparing this delicious meal and inviting me to join you. Thank you for making me so welcome in Endstone and helping me to settle in here. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” they all echoed, chinking their glasses together.

Ellie glanced nervously at her mother and took a tiny sip of her sherry. It felt as though she'd swallowed one of the candles as it burned its way down her throat and pooled warmly in her stomach.

“I'd like to raise a toast to Wesley—” Josephine said.

“And all our boys out there,” Aunt Frances chipped in. Ellie's mother gave her a look but for once didn't argue.

“Yes, to all our boys out in France. I hope they have a very happy Christmas.”

“Hear, hear,” the others piped up, tapping their glasses together again.

“Do you think Father got our parcel?” Ellie asked. She and her mother had sent chocolate, magazines and a pair of gloves that Ellie had finally managed to complete.

“I don't know, but we sent it in plenty of time, so I hope so.”

They hadn't had a Christmas card from him yet, or indeed any letters since the one telling them he wouldn't be home for Christmas. But now they knew the kind of hold-ups that could occur, they were trying hard not to worry.

“I'm sure Wes will be back with us in plenty of time for next Christmas,” Aunt Frances declared and they all agreed heartily. Ellie pushed thoughts of Billie Farrow and of Joe Scott's brother Teddy to the back of her mind.

After dinner they all helped clear the plates away and then played cards by the fire in the living room. After a while, Mother nodded off in her easy chair and Ellie went to make tea for the others. As she passed the kitchen window, she caught sight of something flickering across the pool of light that spilled out into the darkness. She grinned when she recognized the familiar figure astride his bicycle, still wearing the red paper crown from a cracker.

Ellie hurriedly took the pot of tea back through to the living room with cups, milk, sugar and some of her home made mince pies. She was pleased to see that her mother was still dozing. Aunt Frances was cuddling Charlie on her lap, humming “Away in a Manger”. Even Thomas was looking a little drowsy.

Ellie put the tray down on a low table. “It's a bit stuffy in here. I'm just going to get some fresh air. I won't be long.”

“Mmm?” Aunt Frances murmured sleepily. “All right then. Ellie?” Ellie turned impatiently from the doorway. “Say happy Christmas to Jack from us.”

Ellie gave a sheepish smile. She ran upstairs to grab a small package from under her pillow and to pile on her outdoor clothes, before joining her friend at the front of the house.

Jack had leaned his bicycle against the fence and was standing with his hands in his pockets. Without preamble, he grabbed Ellie's hand and began to tug her away from the house.

“Jack!”

“Shhh! Clifftop!” was all he said.

Further up the hill from Ellie's house, fields gave way to the cliff edge. There was a sheltered spot, just under the overhang of the cliff, which required a bit of scrabbling to get to and which, hidden from the path, no one else seemed to know about. It had been a favourite hiding place for Jack and Ellie when they were younger, though they hadn't visited it as often in recent years.

Wriggling into it now, Ellie knew why; their longer limbs were cramped in the small space. Eventually they settled on a position facing each other, backs against the sides of the nook, knees bent and legs overlapping.

“Perfect!” Jack announced.

“Oh, yes, perfect,” Ellie agreed, laughing as she wriggled her feet against the early tinglings of pins and needles.

They looked out over the sea, which looked like molten silver in the moonlight, and were silent for a long moment.

“It is beautiful here,” Jack conceded at last. “I'll miss it when I go away.”

“
When
. . .” Ellie teased.

“Oh, I'm going, El. We always knew Endstone wasn't big enough for us, didn't we? It's not a bad old place, really, but there's so much more of the world out there. Why should we settle for this?”

Ellie had no answer. It was true.

“I'm not sure how much longer I can stick it at the factory. It feels so dull and pointless – it's killing me! Especially when there are so many of our boys over in Europe doing something that matters. And not just older boys either.”

This was true too. Every week there was another story of a boy lying about his age to join up, and while a lot of them were sent home with a flea in their ear, just as many were getting through. Ellie glanced over at Jack. He could easily be one of the ones who got through. He scarcely looked like a little boy any more – he was for ever being mistaken for older than his years.

It seemed as though the war would be going on for a lot longer than anyone had originally anticipated. Jack might actually be able to go. She repressed a shudder, remembering his uncle Teddy whom he had never known or even known about. But at the same time, there was no denying that joining up would give Jack an opportunity to get out of Endstone that he would never otherwise have had.

“That bored of my company, are you?” she said finally. It was a last-ditch effort and not a card she relished playing, but she wasn't quite ready to give her blessing to his plan.

“Oh, give over!” he laughed, clamping one of her shins between his two and squeezing tight. “Since when do you play the high society lady fishing for compliments?”

Ellie was glad of the darkness so he couldn't see her blushing.

He cleared his throat. “Shall we change the subject?”

“Good idea!” Ellie said gratefully. “Do you want your Christmas present or what?”

“That depends,” Jack said seriously. “Did you make it yourself?”

Ellie blushed even more deeply and lashed out at him with her right foot.

“Easy! Are you trying to tip me the cliff and on to those rocks?”

“That depends,” Ellie mimicked in acid tones. “What were you saying about your gift?”

“Why, only that I really hoped you'd made it yourself!” said Jack, a picture of wide-eyed innocence. “Now give it here.” He reached out and tickled her, and as her hands flew out to swat him away, he quickly dipped his hand into her pocket and tugged out the parcel, wrapped in now-crumpled brown paper. “Ah ha!” He tore off the paper and pulled out a long cornflower blue scarf.

It was different widths along its considerable length and a slightly different shade of blue at the very end where she'd run out of wool, but Ellie was proud of her creation. Or, at least, she had been. Looking at it again now, she felt strangely shy.

“Ah, El, it's mad and beautiful, just like you. I shall treasure it,” Jack declared solemnly, as he wrapped it round – and round, and round – his neck. Before she could puzzle this statement out, he had pulled a small package from his own pocket and tossed it into her lap.

“I love the gift-wrapping,” Ellie remarked wryly, gesturing towards the layers of newspaper.

“Waste not, want not!” Jack intoned. “Now, hurry up – my bum's going numb!”

Ellie tore off the paper to reveal a large, white cockle shell – the biggest she had ever seen. It filled the palm of her hand completely. “It's lovely. . .” she began.

“Turn it over.”

Ellie did so and squinted. Something was painted on the smooth inside of the shell – not a millimetre was left uncovered. Holding it up so that the moonlight fell on it, she gasped. It was a map – a map of the world. There was Europe, the Americas, Africa. . . Ellie ran her finger over it, marvelling at the detail.

Jack was watching her keenly. “You wouldn't believe how many hours I spent in the library, copying that from an atlas. And you know how I feel about that place!”

She looked at the tiny details and found it easy to believe. It was, to borrow one of her father's expressions, a real labour of love. And Ellie knew very well how Jack felt about the library. When they were younger, she would often try to drag him there, especially when they'd had a delivery of new books. They had been thrown out for being noisy more times than she cared to remember, then, to cap it all, he had managed to ruin an expensive book by falling asleep and knocking a pot of ink over it. It had taken him months to earn the money to replace it and, as far as she knew, he'd never been back since.

“I thought, you know, this way you could carry the world around in your pocket. Until you get to visit it yourself, I mean.”

She realized that she had not yet spoken. “Jack. . . It's just . . . it's perfect.”

He looked pleased, then quickly adopted a smug expression, crossing his arms behind his head. “I thought so. Come on, shall we go? It's freezing out here and your mum will have my guts for garters if she notices you're gone.”

“Oh, not yet. Please? Just five more minutes, all right?”

“All right,” he agreed, “five more minutes.”

They sat watching the moon reflected on the surface of the sea, the dark clouds drifting lazily across the sky and the white wave cap breaking on the rocks below, the only sounds the whispering of the water and wind and the hooting of night birds. And when they finally came to leave, they had lost all feeling in their feet and legs and had to hobble the whole way back to Ellie's house, grasping each other's arms for support.