When Alice Met Danny (13 page)

She returned her attention to the old letters. References to mud were everywhere, particularly as she was now reading letters written in March 1916. It sounded like a quite appalling winter in the trenches.

The duckboards are so soaked, they don’t even float when the trenches flood. Tommy Hughes missed his footing last night and ended up in it to his waist. At least he gave us all a laugh.

Alice tried to imagine what waist-deep mud might be like. Throughout the letters, she had kept coming across the initials TF. Only tonight had she realised what they stood for: Trench Foot. This condition appeared to have affected a lot of men in Danny’s sector at some time, but, to their great disappointment, it never led to repatriation. As she read more and more of the letters, she came to realise that Danny and most of his comrades only dreamt of one thing: a
cushy
.

Sergeant Harris got himself a cushy last night. He was out with a detail, repairing wire when a single German shot got him through the left knee. Skinner thinks he’ll most probably lose the leg, but the Sarg’s back to Blighty now and well out of it.

A
cushy
? It took Alice a good while before she could get her head round the concept of men welcoming the prospect of losing a leg. Most of Danny’s other comrades were less fortunate. The majority of wounds down in the trenches, as opposed to “over the top” in no man’s land, were head wounds. These were almost always lethal. Some came when snatching a quick glance over the parapet. Others happened to men on guard duty, standing on the fire step. Danny and his battalion were on the Somme. In the space of four letters, roughly a week, seventeen men received shots to the head. Sixteen died. The seventeenth lost most of his ear and was back in the trenches the next day.

There were regular references in the letters to a place simply known as
our spot
. Clearly, this was somewhere of special significance to him and Gladys. The memory of that place obviously took him back to happier times. It was somewhere with a beautiful, far-reaching view. He often wrote about it as somewhere wonderful to which he and she would return once the fighting was over. Clearly the thought of their spot sustained him throughout the months of hardship and deprivation.

She glanced down at the pile. She was already halfway through the letters and she still had no idea of Danny’s identity. She was, however, beginning to assemble a few clues. On a number of occasions he mentioned Beauchamp, and on others he asked Gladys about events in “the village”. Beauchamp itself, even then, would have been too big to be considered a village, so he must have lived outside the town. Twice he referred to letters from her in which she had told of the terrible storm that had brought down the church tower in his village. She distinctly referred to it as
his
village, so she must have been living elsewhere, maybe Beauchamp itself. Woodcombe church tower, although it leaked like a sieve, was indisputably old and still standing. So that ruled out Woodcombe. She was searching for “East Devon Churches” on her iPad when her phone rang. It was Danny from London.

‘Hi Danny.’

‘Hi Alice. Are you still on for next Friday?’

‘I certainly am, but if it rains any more you will be able to windsurf all the way here.’

‘I know. I’ve seen the reports on TV. It’s been OK in London. Anyway, I’ve booked the Lobster Pot for eight on Friday. If you tell me where you are living, I’ll come and collect you if you like. That way you can get blind drunk without having to worry about driving.’

‘Thanks, Danny, but that’s not fair to you. Why should it just be me getting blind drunk?’

‘My trainer here has made me swear not to touch a drop until after Saturday’s competition. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it on Saturday night.’

‘Well, in that case, thank you. My address here is Duck Cottage, Long Lane, Woodcombe. You can’t miss it. It’s just a hundred yards up from the pub.’

‘I know Long Lane.’ His voice was suddenly serious. ‘I hadn’t realised you were in Woodcombe.’

‘So you know the village, then?’ She sounded as surprised as he did.

There was a pause, then he collected himself. ‘Yes, yes I do. I know people there.’ He hesitated before adding, ‘I’ll tell you on Friday. Pick you up at seven-thirty.’

Alice put the phone down and addressed the dog. ‘That’s funny, Danny. Fancy that. It really is a very, very small world.’ He gave a lazy wag of the tail and relapsed into sleep. Returning to the computer, she continued her search for local churches, but without finding any reference to a collapsed tower. When she heard the church clock chiming six o’clock, she got up and made herself a cup of tea. Then a thought struck her. She picked up the phone, dialled Megan’s number and waited for her to answer.

‘Hi Megan, I’ve got a query for you. Of an ecclesiastical nature.’

Megan affected a bored tone. ‘Sorry, I’m afraid it really does say “Thou shall not covet thy neighbour’s ass.” I regret to disappoint you, but that’s what it says, however nice the man may look.’

‘No, Megan, nothing to do with the scriptures, or asses. Who might know about a church here in East Devon, whose tower collapsed in floods in 1916?’

‘Mmh, nowhere springs to mind, but leave it with me. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow in Exeter with about a hundred other members of the diocese. Some of them look as if they’ve been around since 1916. I’ll ask a few people. Is this to do with your pile of letters?’

‘Yes, I’m trying to find out more about this Danny.’

‘How far have you got?’

‘He’s on the Somme. It’s spring 1916.’

‘Aha, well I’ve got one thing for you, if you haven’t got there already. I thought the date, first of July, was familiar, so I looked it up. That was the first day of the battle of the Somme. It was the bloodiest day in British military history, before or since. If the letters finish then, I’m afraid he was probably one of the thousands who died there.’

Alice replaced the telephone and reflected, as she had been doing all week, upon the horrors of war. Apart from those who were killed, there must have been hundreds of thousands, maybe millions injured. Thought of injury made her think of Daniel Tremayne. Of course, he would have had the best treatment modern medicine could provide. In contrast, there must have been so many soldiers who survived the battle but were left with life-changing injuries. It was all so terribly sad. She returned to her reading. The very next letter contained a line that must have summed up the thoughts of men all along the western front, on both sides of no man’s land.

A shell landed on a dugout just a few yards away from us last night. Everybody in it was killed. There were seven names missing at roll call, but we only found bits of two of them. We all keep looking at each other, wondering when it will be our turn.

Chapter 23

Friday was still wet, but, unexpectedly, Saturday dawned bright and clear, although the roads still ran with water. Alice pulled on her wellies and took Danny the dog down for his morning walk. The fields were not only muddy, but partially flooded. She found herself having to follow a circuitous route around the edges of the fields to avoid the worst of it. The Labrador, on the other hand, clearly loved it. While she did her best to avoid the water, he flung himself into it with gusto. From time to time he would come back to shake himself all over her. She didn’t mind. It was lovely to see him enjoying himself.

When she got round to the far side of the biggest field, she realised that she was close to Tremayne land. After a few moments’ hesitation, she called the dog and set off in the direction of the house.

They emerged from the fields onto the drive. It curved gently up from the road, over a cattle grid and on through elegant parkland, the fields studded with specimen trees of all types. As she approached the house, the drive forked. To the left it curled round towards the front of the house, while to the right, it led into the farmyard. The yard gates were closed and she could see that it was full of black and white Friesian cows. She decided to head for the house.

In front of the beautiful old Georgian house was a wide gravelled turning circle, with a fountain in the middle. A dirty Land Rover was parked alongside a slightly cleaner Range Rover. She found herself checking the badges on the back of the Range Rover as she walked past. There was no mention of Evoque or Sport, so she assumed this was just an ordinary type.
Danny would know
, she thought to herself. As she approached the front door, it opened and the other Danny, Daniel Tremayne, came out.

‘Oh, that’s good.’ She gave him a smile. ‘I was going to ring the doorbell, but my boots are so muddy, I was afraid of messing up your porch.’

‘Good morning, Alice.’ He looked pleased to see her. ‘Don’t worry about your boots. After all the rain, there’s mud everywhere.’ Danny the dog trotted up to him, tail wagging. ‘This is Mrs Tinker’s dog, isn’t it? Hello, Danny. I haven’t seen you since you were a little puppy. How’re you doing?’ He looked up at Alice. ‘I could never forget his name, could I?’

‘Be careful, he’s soaking wet.’

Daniel bent down and stroked the Labrador affectionately. ‘He’s grown up into a fine-looking dog. But tell me, what’s the news of his mistress? How’s Mrs Tinker?’

Alice shook her head sadly. ‘Getting weaker and weaker, I’m afraid.’

He gave a grimace, then returned to the subject of dogs. ‘We used to have a Lab, but he died a couple of years back. I keep meaning to get another. This place needs a dog.’

‘You’ve got enough space for a whole pack of them.’ Alice saw that he, too, was wearing boots. ‘Are you on your way out?’

‘I was just going round to the yard to give a hand with the milking. With over four hundred cows, we start at six a.m. and don’t finish till almost two. I like to help the boys a bit so they can get a break.’ He looked across at her. She was pleased to see his face less careworn than the last times she had seen him. ‘Have you come to try some cheese? Please say yes, there’s a new batch we’re quite excited about.’

Alice agreed readily. ‘What about Danny here? I wouldn’t want him to upset your cows. He’s ever so good. I mean, he won’t chase them or anything, but they might not like him.’

‘It’s all right, Alice. The dairy is behind the yard. We won’t need to trouble my girls.’ He led the way round to the side of the house, pointing out an old greenhouse as he did so. ‘My great-great-great-grandfather had this built. He grew all sorts of exotic fruit in there. He even grew pineapples.’

‘But surely they need lots of heat.’ Alice was amazed.

‘And do you know how they heated the place? They piled manure up against the back wall. It heats up as it rots, you know. It kept this place lovely and warm. Right, here’s the dairy.’ He beckoned her into a modern building. ‘Bring Danny into this first room. He’ll be fine here. The food standards people would crucify us if he went any further.’

Alice left the dog in the outer room with instructions to be good. Daniel handed her a blue hairnet from a packet. He couldn’t miss the expression on her face. ‘Yes, you’ll look stupid. We all look stupid in here. But that’s what it says on the wall. Woe betide anybody who doesn’t wear one. I wear a silly white hat too sometimes, but you’re excused that humiliation. Now, first we wash our hands and then we can go inside.’

She pulled the net on and followed him, self-consciously, into the modern room beyond. Cheeses were stacked on trays. Stainless steel vats contained milk in various stages of the cheese-making process. The whole place smelt unmistakably of dairy products. He led her round, explaining the different steps necessary to turn milk into solid chunks of cheese.

‘Here, Alice, this is the latest batch. The process started three months ago and this lot are now ready to eat. We’ll take one of these, and one from the previous batch. It’s a bit chilly in here for tasting, so let’s take them back to the house.’ He slipped the cheeses into a plastic container and led her back out again.

They collected the dog, disposed of the protective hairnets and returned to the sunshine. It was noticeably warmer and Alice reflected that it would be Midsummer’s Day in a couple of weeks. Daniel led her right round until they approached the house from the rear. The garden was a delight, planted with a huge variety of shrubs and trees, the grass immaculately mown in dead straight lines. Outside the back door was a boot scraper and a clever piece of apparatus to help remove boots without bending or dirtying hands.

‘I can find you a pair of slippers if you like.’

‘I’m fine. I’m wearing two pairs of socks anyway. I’m afraid Danny hasn’t got any boots to take off though. He’s in a bit of a state.’

‘That’s all right. We’ll stay in the kitchen this time. Next time you come round without the dog, I’ll give you the grand tour.’

The kitchen was enormous. Alice’s kitchen at Duck cottage would have fitted in there four times, maybe five. This kitchen, too, had an Aga, an enormous one that made the room very cosy as a result. Daniel waved her to a seat, while the dog took up his favoured position near the Aga.

‘Would you like something to drink with the cheese? I could probably find you some red wine if you like.’ Remembering what Megan had told her, Alice was quick to respond.

‘Good Lord, no. It’s only nine o’clock in the morning.’

‘How about a cup of tea, then?’ She nodded and he set about preparing it. While the kettle boiled on the range, he produced a wooden board for the cheese and a loaf of bread. Then, he pulled out a knife, cut a couple of small slices of the bread and halved them, arranging them on the board. He then sliced the two different cheeses and laid a piece of each on the bread. The kettle boiled, he filled the teapot, and waited while it brewed.

While he was turned away from her, Alice had had time to admire him from the rear. Guiltily, knowing that he was a married man, she told herself it was just out of simple aesthetic interest. She was reminded of Megan’s quotation from the Bible, so she did her best not to let her eyes rest on his behind. What she did notice was a scar just visible through his hair that extended diagonally around from the left side of his head, above the ear, right across the back, before disappearing into his collar. She shuddered.