Inherit the Skies (54 page)

‘I don't care for it, Lawrence, I don't care for it at all,' Dr Haley said bluntly, easing his thumbs under the watch chain which straddled his portly chest. ‘ You should have come to see me before now.'

‘With a cough? I'm not an old woman, you know!' Lawrence said in an effort to hide his anxiety. ‘But now I am here, can you give me something to ease it?'

‘I dare say I can do that but I have the gravest suspicion it is more than just a cough,' the doctor informed him. ‘There is only one thing for it in my opinion and that is to get away from this damned climate of ours. I think a spell in a sanatorium is what you need, with good clear air and plenty of rest. I know of a very good one in Austria but with the war on I dare say it would make more sense to look to Switzerland. Leave it with me and I'll see what I can do.'

‘Good Lord, that's out of the question!' Lawrence said, aghast.

‘Why, man? There's no shortage of money, is there?'

‘Of course not. But we are at full production at the works. I can't go haring off to Switzerland!'

‘Well, Lawrence, it's up to you. But if you value your health you'll think about it – and soon.'

‘Impossible!'

‘You won't be much use to the works or anyone else if you put yourself in a coffin,' the doctor said flatly. He reached for his pen, thinking for a moment. ‘I'll prescribe you something as you ask but I do urge you to give some serious thought to the sanatorium. And don't hesitate to come and see me again, or call me to the house, if things get worse.'

‘Very well, I'll think about it,' Lawrence agreed. But already his mind was made up. He couldn't leave the works and go off to Switzerland for months, or even weeks. If he did he would return to find himself usurped by Leo de Vere. The damned fellow was always breathing down his neck – with a golden opportunity like that presented to him he would take over before Lawrence's chair was cool. No, whatever Dr Haley might say he would simply have to dose himself up, try to get a little more rest, and soldier on. After all it was no more than thousands of others were doing on both sides of the Channel.

Hoping his absence had not been noticed, Lawrence returned to the works.

Alicia's first ‘guests', as she preferred to call the recuperating patients, arrived during the early part of the bleak cold month of February – two young officers who had been wounded at Ypres. One had lost a leg, amputated in a field hospital when gangrene threatened, the other, a gentle student who had left his studies at Oxford to rush with patriotic fervour into the army on the outbreak of war, had been blinded. Both had suffered as much emotional damage as they had physical – their nerves were so shot that the slightest sudden noise or even a raised voice, could turn them into gibbering wrecks and when they suffered nightmares, as they did frequently, it was only the thick walls of Chewton Leigh which prevented them from waking the whole house with their screams.

Alicia was good with them. Her rather hard, autocratic manner seemed to reassure them and provided a crutch while they struggled to come to terms with the shattered wreck of their lives. But Hugh had little patience with them. For one thing he did not care to be reminded of the terrible wounds it was possible to suffer, for another his own nerve had recovered so well he found himself irritated by their babblings.

‘Call themselves men? They'd never have got commissions in the regular army,' he said disgustedly.

‘They aren't men – they are little more than boys,' Alicia pointed out. ‘And they have suffered terribly.'

But Hugh, who seemed to have become even more arrogant, like a young plant which has weathered the winter storms and grown stronger because of it, refused to be sympathetic.

‘No wonder we are not making any progress with this war with lillies like them fighting on our side. I'm glad to be going back, I can tell you.'

Alicia's eyes darkened. She was dreading the imminent departure of her brother. Bad enough to know that Adam was in France; when Hugh had gone too …

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.