The Shadow of the Sycamores (41 page)

He turned his head away. ‘You shouldn’t have come, Samara. There’s no future for us now.’

‘Of course there is,’ she said brightly. ‘As long as you still love me, nothing has changed.’

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid! Everything has changed! I might not be able to see myself but I know perfectly well that I look hideous. You don’t want to be tied to a freak, do you?’

She bit her lip to keep back the tears. ‘You’re not a freak, Leo, darling. As far as I’m concerned, you’re still the handsome boy who winked at me in the kirk.’

He ran his hand over the angry scars on his face. ‘You’ll change your mind if you have to look at these every day. I know you will. My stepmother can hardly bear to come near me and I can hear pity even when my father speaks to me. I don’t want pity, Samara, his or yours or anybody’s! Do you understand?’

In spite of herself, she felt a flash of anger now. ‘All I understand, Leo Ferguson, is that you’ve been sitting there feeling sorry for yourself when you should be glad you’re still alive!’

His brows plunged down. ‘Still alive?’ he sneered. ‘That’s a laugh! My spine was damaged so I’m paralysed from the waist down and Christ knows what I look like. I am not the young man who winked at you in the kirk. I am not the man who proposed to you and I certainly will not marry you, no matter what you think. Go home, Samara Rae, and find yourself a proper man!’

The tears came flooding out now. ‘I don’t want any other man, Leo, darling. I just want you, whatever you are, whatever you look like …’

‘Get out, damn you! Get out! Get out!’

Still weeping, she stood up and walked to the door, hoping that he would call her back but one last glance showed that he had turned his head away.

His father was standing waiting when she went out. ‘I did warn you,’ he said, shaking his head sympathetically. ‘Nobody has been able to make him see sense, not even the doctors and nurses who come in to attend to him. He didn’t want you to know – that’s why I didn’t get in touch with you before – but I eventually realised that you would always wonder what had happened to him and it wasn’t fair to keep you in suspense. I see now, however, that it would have been better for you if I had not written.’

‘Oh, no, I’m glad you told me. There’s bound to be some hope, isn’t there? He will improve as time goes on, won’t he?’

‘The doctors hold out no hope, my dear. There is a large piece of shrapnel lodged near his brain, which is the reason for the change in his personality, and the slightest movement could mean … the end for him. I am sorry, my dear, but you will have to face facts. I take it that he does not want you to …’

She dabbed at her eyes. ‘He told me to go home and forget him but I love him, Mr Ferguson, and I’ll never forget him. You told your maid to make a room ready for me so I take it you won’t mind if I stay a few days? He might come round with me. He did love me, I know he did.’

Mr Ferguson’s smile was a trifle sad. ‘You are welcome to
stay but are you sure you know what you are doing? I have the feeling that he will break your heart.’

‘I’ll risk it.’

Most of the servants and workers at The Sycamores left around the same time as the residents. Only Dod Lumsden, two of the maids and Tina Paul stayed on to help clear out the unwanted odds and ends and to scrub the place from top to bottom. At last everything was spotless and it was time for them to go their separate ways before the invasion of the army.

Raymond Miller had bought a small bungalow on the outskirts of Perth, the place of his birth, and he and Dolly were quite looking forward to their retirement.

The two gardeners were to be taking on part-time jobs at houses where the owners could not find, or could not afford to employ, full-time workers. Most of the maids had found jobs not too far from where they lived.

Tina Paul was nursing at Woodend Hospital in Aberdeen, now reserved for Army and Navy cases. She had heard nothing from Jerry Rae and she could not write to him without knowing his service number. The only thing she could do was to pray every night for his safety. If only the war would come to an end, he might find a nice girl and settle down. He deserved some happiness after what he had been through.

‘I don’t know if Mara’s thought things through properly.’ Fay looked at her husband, who was scanning the newspaper as he did every evening. She was never altogether sure if he heard anything she said.

‘She’s been there for six weeks,’ Henry said without looking up. ‘She must know all Leo’s ups and downs by this time.’

‘Maybe but I’m not happy about her wanting to marry him. She never says it outright but I don’t think he’ll ever be a proper husband – if you know what I mean – and she’s still only twenty-five. It’s not natural, really.’

‘I bet her father-in-law to be will have told her exactly what to expect – he was a doctor, wasn’t he?’

‘A surgeon. But our Mara can be very stubborn when she likes.’

Henry gave a little smile at this. ‘Aye, she can, though she’s usually quiet and biddable.’

‘She loves him, of course, which makes a big difference. A woman in love can ignore any faults or shortcomings in a lover …’

‘He’ll never be her lover, though,’ Henry observed, dryly.

Fay sighed gustily. ‘That’s what worries me. She might get so frustrated, she could start to hate him but she’ll be tied to him for life.’

For his life, at any rate, Henry thought but, wisely, did not voice it.

*    *    *

Jerry had to give in eventually. The other men in his platoon kept teasing him about being scared to go out and meet the girls and he had taken the jibes without a word but there was a limit. They were stationed at Dover and, on this particular evening, six of them had planned to go the local pub for a few drinks, to give them Dutch courage, then go on to the dancehall and had persuaded him to go with them. He had never been in a pub or a dancehall before and he found that the beer did not give him any more self-confidence. The advent of the seven, tall and handsome kilted young men caused quite a sensation amongst the female sex and he sat watching in amusement as each of his comrades swaggered up to the girl who had taken his fancy. Not one was refused and they joined the throng of dancers, the girls howling with laughter about the swinging of the kilts and quite clearly asking if they wore anything underneath.

He was quite enjoying himself. The music was good; catchy tunes that many of the young people recognised and were singing along with. He felt his feet keeping time to the rhythmic beat and he suddenly realised what a sheltered life he had led … apart from certain events. He wished that he could dance but he wouldn’t have the nerve to ask a girl to be his partner.
Still, it was something he could live without so he shouldn’t worry about it.

‘Excuse me but do you mind if I sit beside you?’

The soft English voice made him look round. The girl was around the same age as himself, he thought, past his eighteenth birthday now and he quite liked the look of her. She wasn’t very tall, maybe five feet one or two, and her thick, light brown hair was tied back with a broad pink ribbon. But he was forgetting his manners. ‘No,’ he smiled, ‘I don’t mind at all.’

She smiled back shyly and sat down on the chair next to him. ‘I saw your pals had gone off and left you and I’m in the same boat so …’

‘I can’t dance,’ he said quickly, to save any misunderstanding.

She grinned now, making her look even more attractive. ‘Neither can I.’

The thought of two non-dancers being in a dancehall made them giggle for a moment, then she said shyly, ‘I’m Daphne Nelson.’

Having exchanged names, he told her that he came from the north-east of Scotland. The conversation now off to a good start, they chatted happily, learning what they could about each other, until the band came to a rousing close and the dancers started to leave the floor.

Jerry jumped to his feet, not wanting the magic to be broken by the return of his mates. ‘Come outside,’ he pleaded. ‘They’ll just tease us if we stay here.’

Daphne needed no second bidding and they walked along the promenade for the next hour, the time flying past at treble its normal speed. Jerry knew, and guessed that his companion also knew, that this could be only a fleeting friendship – it could come to nothing because he would be leaving Brighton in a day or so – yet he had never been so happy. He made no comparison with Anna. She was in the past although he would never forget her. They had still been children – they didn’t even understand the workings of their own bodies and were quite ignorant of life. Yet their love had been real and it might have stood them in good stead forever if …

Walking back to the billet, Jerry felt no guilt that he had kissed Daphne when he saw her home. He had kept it light, of course. The situation was too fraught with pitfalls to chance letting it develop into something serious. They had enjoyed each other’s company and had arranged to meet again the next night.

‘The only thing is,’ he had told her, ‘we might be shipped out at short notice and I wouldn’t have a chance to let you know.’

Her smile had been touched with sadness. ‘If you don’t turn up, I’ll know.’

‘Well, it won’t be because I don’t want to see you again because I do. I just wish …’ He had shaken his head with a sigh and let her go.

Daphne filled his thoughts that night, the softness of her beautiful silky hair, her rosy cheeks, still a little chubby; her rosebud mouth, soft and enticing; her swelling bosom and tiny waist; her buttoned shoes peeping out from under her skirts. Oh, God, if things had been different! If there hadn’t been a war, he could have courted her properly. Then common sense told him that if there had not been a war, he would never have met her.

But maybe he would have a few days with her yet. Their departure could be delayed and, even if they were sent across the channel tomorrow, he had taken a note of her address. He would write to her and he would go to see her on the first leave he had.

The past few weeks had been extremely hard going for all in the house at Cramond, not least Samara Rae. Not only was she fighting against the brick wall that was Leo but she also had his stepmother’s animosity to contend with. At first, it had been more or less veiled but no longer. Everything the woman said to her now was heavy with sarcasm or hostility and it had not taken the girl long to see the reason for it. If Leo outlived his father, he would inherit half the estate but, if he died first, his stepmother would get everything. It was as simple as that. She would not want anyone else complicating matters.

Even knowing this, however, Mara could do nothing about it. James Ferguson would not take kindly to a girl he hardly knew complaining about his wife. She felt like asking him to cut Leo out of his will completely but having to explain why would cause trouble. She had, therefore, to ‘keep a calm sough’, as her grandfather might have said, and to show no ill feeling towards the woman.

She was coming to the end of her tether, however, when Leo gave her a beaming smile one afternoon – not a smile of love or affection, more a smile to acknowledge her presence, but a smile of any kind was a breakthrough. It took another few days before he put out his arm and touched her hand, a brief and feather-light contact but, nevertheless, another step forward. Soon, each day saw another improvement and her spirits soared. His stepmother, naturally, was anything but pleased but what did that matter now? Then one evening, after settling Leo, she opened the sitting-room door to bid his parents goodnight, as she always did, and his father beckoned her in.

‘Sit down, Samara,’ he smiled. ‘Madeline went to bed early with a headache so it has given me the chance to talk to you privately.’ Waiting until she was seated, he went on, ‘You have done marvels with Leo, my dear, and I know it has not been easy for you.’

She shrugged. ‘It hasn’t but I don’t mind. I love him.’

‘Yes, I can see that and it is becoming clearer by the day that he still loves you. My wife has never been altogether happy about having Leo living with us and it is not just because he has been badly wounded. Anyway, she wanted me to send him to a home for disabled servicemen but I would not hear of it. I could not bear to think of him being amongst absolute strangers and that is why I decided to write to you – against his wishes, as you know. I only meant to ask your opinion on sending him away so your reaction was an unexpected gift.

‘I thought that, if anyone could get through to him, surely the girl he had loved would succeed and you certainly have! I would not have believed that I would ever see him smile again yet I have heard the two of you laughing sometimes.’

‘We like to joke with each other – we always did – but he still has some black spells. Granted, they’re not as frequent as they were but …’

‘Nor so black,’ the man grinned, then sobered again. ‘I am going to make a suggestion that I want you to consider carefully before deciding. The thing is …’ He broke off and regarded her seriously for a moment. ‘The thing is I do not want you to think I am shelving my responsibility. This will be as difficult for me as it will be for you, I imagine. Still, I had better get on with it. I do not know if you are aware that I still own Corbie Den, the house near Ardbirtle? Madeline does not care for the isolation of it but I have been thinking …’

Mara’s eyes had lit up. ‘You want me to take Leo there? Oh, Mr Ferguson, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.’

‘Don’t be too hasty, my dear. There are things to be discussed first. For instance, you can’t just go and live together … you know how tongues wag, especially in a small town like that. What I mean is, if we can get Leo to agree, would you be
prepared to marry him? He is a mere shell of a man, remember. He will never be able to fulfil his duty as a husband and you are a young woman, presumably with normal needs. There may come a time when you fall in love with another man and then what would happen to Leo? Either you would go off with your new love and leave him to be put in a home or, more likely knowing you, you would sacrifice yourself, give up any chance of true happiness, under the name of duty.’