Wait For the Dawn (43 page)

Davie’s face was a pale blur as she studied him, but she could still make out the shape of it, the set of his features. How like Guy he was. It was something she had come to accept; nevertheless there were times when it struck her anew, and she became aware of it as if she were learning new news.

She got up, leaned down and kissed him lightly on the forehead. ‘Goodnight, my son.’

Turning, she moved to the window, lifted back the curtain another inch or two and peered out. The sky was of the deepest blue, and fine trails of cloud, like ribbons of smoke, drifted across the moon’s white face, She thought again of Guy, and the moon they had watched together that night. This same moon. This same sky. She thought of Lord Byron’s poem that Guy had read aloud in the little garden next to the square in Redbury that day. She had read it many times since.

She sighed, let the curtain fall back in place and turned away.

At Davie’s bed she leaned down once again and looked at him in the dim light. Then, breathing his name, she straightened and left the room.

From the nursery she went downstairs to the first floor. There, next to the master bedroom was situated her little sewing room. She hesitated for a second at the door, then opened it and went inside. The moonlight filled the room and she could easily see her way to the lamp that stood next to her sewing basket on a small table. Taking a match from its box she struck it and set the flame to the lamp’s wick, and then by the lamp’s light turned to the shelves of books behind the small table. Her hand located the volume at once, and she drew it out and laid it down on the table beside the lamp. She opened it to the page and read the poem there:

So, we’ll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright
.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest
.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we’ll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon
.

As she read the familiar words, the tears stung at her eyes and ran silently down her cheeks.

Evie and Hennie arrived from Capinfell on Sunday soon after twelve, and Evie at once set to work, helping Lydia prepare the dinner. Mrs Starling and Alice and Ellen did not come in now on Sundays, so all the domestic work fell to Lydia on this day. When dinner was finished and the dishes and pots were washed, the women and the children and the dog set out for a leisurely walk. Alfred had declined the invitation to join them. Replete after his meal, and also experiencing a little discomfort from his gouty foot, he had declared himself ready to stretch out on the sofa while they were gone. ‘You enjoy your stroll,’ he had said. ‘I’d rather be like those people on the Continent and take a siesta.’ So they had left him and set out together.

It had been several weeks since Lydia and Evie had last met, and they were happy to have one another’s company again. Evie had remarried a year ago, her new husband one Jack Hasper, a farmhand, like her first. Now she was
expecting a child, her belly just beginning to swell the waist of her grey cotton skirt.

It was a beautiful day for a walk, with the sun shining down out of a sky that was almost clear, while a light breeze stirred the leaves of the silver birches at the side of the lane. On the common a group of boys were playing football, and Davie came to a stop and looked longingly at them, as if he would like to join in their fun. When the inflated pig’s bladder came sailing through the air and landed near Davie’s feet, he looked round at Lydia and then at the boys who came in pursuit, as if seeking their approval. ‘Come on, then,’ one of them yelled, smiling. ‘Lob it’ ere.’ Davie took a run at it and kicked out, and the bladder sailed into the air a few feet, prompting a small cheer from the boys. The ball was taken by a tall, freckled-faced lad who said, ‘Thanks,’ and gave Davie a thumbs-up. Davie was proud, and turned and grinned at Lydia, who nodded and smiled back. ‘Well done,’ she said.

A man came along on horseback, and Lydia recognised him as Mr Whittier, a neighbouring farmer. He also recognised Lydia, and raised his hat as he drew nearer. As he came level he pulled up his horse and turned to her in the saddle.

‘Afternoon, missis.’

‘Good afternoon,’ Lydia responded, while Evie returned his nod with a murmured greeting of her own.

‘Lovely afternoon, yes?’ the man said.

Lydia agreed that it was, and Whittier jerked a thumb back over his shoulder, and said, ‘I only want to ask you to keep away from my big field today. Specially with your dog’ ere. Only, me sheep are lambin’ and I don’t want’ em worried.’

‘Oh, of course not,’ Lydia said at once. ‘I understand perfectly.’ She looked over at Tinny, who stood a few feet away. ‘We won’t go near the field, depend on it. In any case,
Tinny wouldn’t misbehave – would you, Tinny?’ At the sound of his name the dog pricked up his ears.

‘And I should warn you,’ Whittier went on, ‘that in the small paddock over there,’ he jerked his thumb again, ‘the bull is loose. So for your own sake, don’t go near’ im. He’s a crotchety old devil at the best of times, and is at’ is worst right now.’ Another touch at his hat and the man was riding away.

Lydia stood looking after him, his words about the bull still sounding in her ears, while visions of Ryllis in the hospital bed hovered in her mind.

‘What’s up, Mammy?’ Davie said, and Lydia came out of her dream and said to him, ‘Nothing, darling. It’s all right. Come on, let’s carry on, shall we?’

The women, the children and the dog made their way over the grass where all around them wild flowers grew in abundance – dandelions, celandines and ragged robin, while in the lea of the brambles there were wood anemones. In the more rugged areas of the heathland the gorse flowers grew yellow and sturdy.

Over beyond the common they could see the pastureland where Whittier’s sheep were grazing. They continued on, skirting the sheep field, and taking a path through the adjoining meadow, while Lydia kept a careful eye on Tinny. The dog was well trained, though, and at her command kept obediently at her heels. She was relieved and pleased at his good behaviour, for the stories were legion of the damage that a renegade dog could do to sheep and cattle.

After they had skirted a field of barley, they came to a little woodland, and here in its shade they came to a stop, sitting down in the soft grass. ‘We’ll rest for a while and then start back,’ Lydia said, and Davie groaned and said he wasn’t ready to rest yet. ‘Can Hennie and I go exploring in the wood?’ he asked, and Lydia said, yes, if Hennie would like to go with him.

Hennie, who was now eight years old and behaved with Davie as if she were his big sister, said yes at once, and together the two got up and, calling Tinny to them, made their way towards the woods behind.

Lydia and Evie, turning as they sat, watched them go off, and Lydia called out after them, ‘Don’t go too far away,’ to which Evie added, ‘No – and Hennie, don’t pick any flowers; they’ll only be dead before we’re halfway home.’ A few moments later the children, followed by the dog, had disappeared among the trees.

‘They won’t come to any harm,’ Lydia said, and Evie agreed and then added, ‘Davie is growing so.’

‘Yes, he is,’ Lydia said. ‘I can’t keep up with him, the way he outgrows his clothes.’

The two women took off their hats, and Lydia stretched her arms above her head and sighed. Turning to Evie she smiled. ‘How are you feeling?’

Evie laid her hand on the gentle swell of her belly. ‘Very well, thank you.’

‘You’ve looked so much happier these past months.’

‘Have I?’

‘Yes, you have. I can see your happiness there, a contentment.’

‘Well – I suppose that’s what I’m feeling.’

‘How does Jack feel about the new baby?’

‘Oh – he’s very excited, but no more than I am. I didn’t think it would happen again.’

‘What? Marriage? A new baby?’

‘Yes. After losing Bill like that, I don’t think I expected anything – but now, everything’s different again.’

‘It was time, Evie.’

Evie smiled. ‘Yes, perhaps it was.’ She paused. ‘What about you? Did you ever think you might like a second child?’

Lydia considered this for a moment, then said, ‘I know
it’s been Alfred’s wish, but it’s just – never happened.’

‘Are you sorry?’

‘Well, for Alfred I am – but we’ve got Davie, and we both love him so much.’

‘That’s obvious to see – and the way Alfred dotes on him. . . .’

‘Oh, he does, he does. I see other fathers are so strict with their children, and I suppose it’s the way they’re brought up to be, but not Alfred. He’s not like that at all. He loves the boy so much. I don’t think he could love Davie more if he were his own child.’

Evie said, ‘I don’t know how you feel about Alfred, but you know – speaking for myself, there’s something I wouldn’t have believed possible, that you can love for a second time – but you can.’

Lydia looked at her, taking in her words, then said with a shake of her head, ‘
Twice
. Oh, heavens, with all the heartache it brings, I should think once is quite enough.’

Evie could see no gladness in Lydia’s face, but Lydia smiled, as if casting the moment behind her, and said, ‘Jack will miss you today, I should think.’

‘Yes, I suppose he will.’

‘He’ll be having his dinner at his mother’s, did you say?’

‘Yes, that’s right. So there’s someone who’ll be very pleased, anyway. Having her boy back for a little while, and being able to make a fuss of him.’

From the direction of the wood came Hennie’s laughter ringing out. Lydia smiled at the sound and said, ‘They’re having fun.’ Then she added, ‘It’s good to see Hennie looking so well, and she’s such a pretty girl.’

‘Thank you.’

‘She gets on with Jack, does she?’

‘Oh, yes, she does, and she needed a father. He helps her with her school exercises and – oh, he’s so good with her.’

Lydia nodded. ‘Like Alfred and Davie. Sometimes to see
them together it’s – oh, it’s lovely. Not the way it was with Ryllis and me and our father. We never felt close to him. It was almost as if he was afraid of it – closeness. Though I suppose he meant well.’

‘No doubt.’

‘I’m just so glad it’s different with Alfred and Davie. I would hate it if anything should happen to – to spoil things. It wouldn’t be right to allow anything to happen.’

Evie frowned. ‘Of course not. What could happen, anyway?’ She looked quizzically at Lydia, who, aware of her gaze, lowered her head. Then, after a moment, Lydia looked up at her and round about, taking in the woods. There was no sign or sound of the children. ‘I saw him,’ she said.

Evie frowned, not understanding. Then realisation came. ‘
Him
?’ she whispered. ‘You mean – Davie’s father? Guy?’

Lydia swiftly put a finger to her lips and gave a nod. ‘Yes.’

‘How – how did that happen?’

‘He came into the shop while I was there, serving. It was the greatest shock.’

‘I’m sure it must have been.’

‘He saw Davie too – and Alfred.’

‘Did you have a chance to talk? I suppose not, being in the shop . . .’

‘No – but I had to run after him with a package he left behind. We were able to have a few words then.’ She paused. ‘And afterwards – I met him again.’

‘By accident again?’

‘No. Not by accident.’

‘Oh . . .’

‘No, not by accident at all. I had to go to Pershall Dean, and we arranged to meet there, at the station.’ Looking at Evie she could see a little flash of wonder in her eyes – and a look of doubt, as if she questioned the wisdom of such
actions. ‘I know,’ Lydia said quickly, ‘I know you think I’m mad to have done such a thing but . . .’ She halted for a second, then added, ‘I had to see him. He wanted me to, and he was so insistent. I had to go. I – I couldn’t say no. I just couldn’t.’

‘Oh, Lyddy.’

‘I know. Perhaps I was a fool. That’s what I thought when I was there with him. We went to this little inn, but we couldn’t really talk. I had to get out.’

‘So – what happened?’ Evie said.

‘I left. I thought,
What am I doing here?
But he came after me – and we caught the train together. I got off here at Merinville and he went on to Redbury.’ She sat up a little straighter now, then leaned forward and put her hands up, covering her face. When she lowered them again she said, so softly that Evie could only just hear her: ‘He knows.’

‘He knows what?’

‘About Davie. That Davie’s his – his son.’ She barely mouthed the words.

‘Oh.’

‘I didn’t tell him. I didn’t need to tell him. He saw the boy and saw the likeness – and he also worked out the time. It was Davie’s birthday when he came into the shop and so it was easy for him.’ She sighed. ‘God – I didn’t know what to do. And he wants to see me again.’

‘Did you agree?’

‘No. I said it wasn’t possible. Oh, Evie, I daren’t see him again. I dare not.’

Evie sat silent, gazing at her.

‘I mean,’ Lydia said, ‘what could come of it? Nothing but unhappiness, don’t you think?’

Evie said, ‘You don’t sound very sure, Lyddy.’

‘Of course I’m sure.’

‘You almost sound as if – as if you’d like to see him again.’

Lydia gave a deep sigh and turned her head, gazing off unseeingly into the distance. ‘I don’t know what I want.’

‘Surely,’ Evie said, ‘You haven’t got a choice.’

‘No, I don’t suppose I have.’

‘Of course you haven’t. You said yourself, what would come of it – your seeing him again?’

‘I think about him so much,’ Lydia said. ‘Ever since he walked into the shop he’s been on my mind – even more than he usually is, for he’s never that far away.’

‘Oh, Lyddy,’ Evie said, ‘this is terrible for you.’

‘There shouldn’t be any questions in my mind,’ Lydia said. ‘I shouldn’t be wondering what to do. I should know. I
do
know.’

Into the silence between them came the distant sound of Davie’s voice yelling out something unintelligible, the words light on the spring air. Lydia looked towards the sound for a moment, then turned back to face Evie.