When the Bough Breaks (20 page)

Without a word she slipped into the bed and drew the trembling little figure into her arms.

‘Won't never see her no more,' Beth sobbed. ‘She liked being alive – more than anyone she liked it – made everything sort of warm and good and exciting.'

‘I know, sweetheart. Don't know how we're going to bear it.'

She felt the thin little arms come round her neck and one leg hook itself across her body. Was that the moment her own floodgates opened or had she been crying when she'd come into the bedroom?

‘What about Jess's dad? Didn't you ought to be in there with him?'

‘I think he needs to be on his own.'

‘Do you want to be on your o—' The last word was lost in a sob she couldn't control.

‘No. Just for tonight, Beth, can I stay in here with you?'

She felt the movement of Beth's head against her shoulder as she nodded. ‘Bet Jess'd like that. Wish we could speak to her, Auntie Kathie, tell her things – things like that.'

‘Tell her with your heart, your spirit, and she'll know.' Probably beyond a six-year-old's understanding. Or was it? Somehow Kathie believed that what Beth was too young to understand, she would take on trust.

‘Then she'll know about Fudge and where me and Mr Meredith made his grave. He made doing it sort of
important
; didn't say about Fudge, “just a dog” nor noffing like that. He's a nice man. You like him, Auntie Kathie?'

‘Of course.'

‘But
really
, I mean?' Beth was quieter now, her small body not trembling and she wasn't going to be fobbed off with just ‘of course' for an answer as if she was too young to be taken seriously.

‘I've only met him a few times – yet I feel I know him well. And, yes, Beth, I do like him.'

‘So do I. He sort of understands things without being told.'

‘You weren't in bed when I woke up in the night?' By which Dennis actually meant ‘Where were you?'

‘I was with Beth.' There was unexpected comfort in remembering.

‘You told her she was to be found a new billet?'

‘Oh, Den don't start that again. She was – is – Jess's dearest friend. This is the first time she has known a proper, happy home. You don't really want to break faith with Jess and send her away, you know you don't.'

‘To be honest I don't care about anything. What's the point? Another three weeks, and a bullet might get me.'

‘Then you just be sure you keep out of the way of the bullets.' Kathie managed to instil more warmth in her tone that she was capable of feeling. The emotion of the night had left her drained and numb. He must feel much the same, and poor little Beth too. What a lonely little figure she had looked as she went off to school.

‘We have things to do, Den. If you want to work outside, do you want me to go to Warbeck and Giles?' She named the Deremouth undertakers. ‘Not sure what we have to do, but they'll tell me.'

‘You'll stay here. It's my place to make the arrangements.' Just for a second he looked at her directly, his misery not hidden in his words but clear to be seen in his eyes. ‘The last thing I can do for her. Why? Why? Why
her
?'

‘Not the last thing. People don't just drop out of your life like that. Here, or wherever they send you, and later when you come home and it's all over, Den, we haven't lost her, we must never lose her.'

‘Emotional claptrap, that's all that is. Her life was snuffed out – and all for that bloody dog you ought never to have taken on.'

Pulling on her wellingtons, then reaching for the old coat she kept on the back of the kitchen door, Kathie didn't answer. Why did he have to talk like that? Was he frightened that he'd call out to Jess and she wouldn't answer.

‘Her body might have lost its life, but Den, listen with your heart. We haven't lost her, we must never lose her.'

There was bewilderment in his expression. He looked at her as though she were a stranger, someone who spoke a foreign language.

‘We shan't forget her, if that's what you're trying to say. Anything else is rubbish and you'll have to face up to it,' he told her.

Slamming the door behind her, she left him.

Work was a help as the days of his leave went by. On the Monday after the accident, at half past eleven in the morning, Jess's small, white coffin was lowered into the ground in the village churchyard. Beth had gone to school as usual. As the single bell tolled, Kathie knew she would be listening. It might have been kinder to bring her, but Dennis wouldn't hear of it. What neither of them had expected was that the church would be so full. All these people hadn't known Jess, so why were they there? Perhaps it stemmed from the feeling of community brought about by the war. She didn't know and wasn't interested enough in them to give the question any intelligent thought. The one person she was glad to see as she and Dennis followed the coffin from the church was Bruce. He was sitting in the back pew amongst villagers neither of them knew.

Somehow the days were passing. In their raw misery they hadn't been able to reach out to each other, but there is nothing like work to help habit overcome emotion, and there was certainly more than enough work to keep them occupied. On the Friday of Den's second week the two one-time lads – Stanley Stone and Bert Delbridge, both on embarkation leave just as Dennis was – came to Westways at the beginning of the afternoon and within ten minutes had joined the workforce as if they'd never been away.

‘What do you think of them, Sal?' Sarah whispered to her friend as they carefully washed carrots and tied them in bundles. ‘The tall one, that's Stan, his dad comes to the pub and he says he's buying a ring for his girl before he goes back. Don't know who she is, but Dad looked a bit sniffy about it. He reckons because of the war – romance, drama, the sort of emotion he turns his nose up at and calls Hollywood rubbish – he reckons that because of all that, people are too keen to get tied up. Stan looks a nice chap, doesn't he? Well, they both do. It'd be all right if after the war all of us could work here together. Wish this war would buck up and get finished.'

‘Don't want it to finish yet, not the way it's going. Reckon it'll take another year or two before we can get them beaten. But, like you say they're nice chaps. Awful having to go off, never knowing if you're going to get home again.'

Sarah nodded. ‘Don't need to go to war for that though. Jess only went to school.'

The thought sobered them and they finished the carrots in silence.

Having the lads working alongside him it was almost possible for Dennis to imagine things were like they used to be. But the afternoon was soon over and the solitary child coming slowly up the lane wasn't Jess. If he closed his eyes he could almost hear the familiar sound of the homecomings as they used to be: Jess's feet pounding on the rough ground as she raced up the lane. He wasn't even conscious of the unwelcoming expression on his face as Beth, seeing where Kathie was busy digging parsnips, ran straight to her. It was Friday afternoon; school was finished for the week. Last Saturday Mr Meredith had invited her to the Hall and she and Ollie had made a wooden sign to put on Fudge's grave. She would like to have gone there again this Saturday but no one had suggested it. Ollie was going to the house in the village where his mother had come to live. She hoped he wouldn't want to go there every week. Beth didn't like the picture she'd built in her imagination of Ollie's mother, but that was partly because he kept saying how pretty she was, how much fun she was, how clever she was. Was he meaning that he hadn't really thought it was wonderful here at Westways, just him, Jess, Fudge and her? She didn't want to think about it, just thinking gave her a nasty tight feeling in her throat and made her eyes sting. Well, tomorrow she would have to see if the girls could give her a job. The time would pass,
he
would soon be gone – and perhaps after a while Ollie would want to come back. His rotten Mum couldn't be as much fun as they had here.

Soon tiring of watching grown-ups working and not being given a job to do, she went off to feed the chickens and collect the eggs. But the responsibility she and Jess had enjoyed didn't hold excitement on her own like it had when they had been together vying to pick up the most eggs. Everything would be better once
he
was gone. Friday would soon be over and he was leaving on Tuesday so there were only three whole days. Was it wicked of her to want him gone? She told herself that Jess had loved him so he must really be all right; but when he looked at her she
knew
he was thinking horrid things about her and wanting her not to be there.

The evenings were the most difficult times. No one talked as they ate their supper, but there was nothing comfortable about the silence. Usually before sending Beth to get ready for bed, Kathie suggested they play a game. That's what they used to do when Jess was there.

‘Games aren't for me,' or words to that effect from Dennis, meant that Kathie and Beth played while he sat by the range reading the paper. Beth didn't think he was really reading it at all, just staring at it; but she was glad he didn't want to play. Snap, Ludo, Happy Families, Beat your Neighbour Out of Doors, Draughts, all the time-honoured games took their turn. Kathie wasn't sure whether it became easier or harder once Beth was in bed and she and Dennis were left alone. They talked about the work they had been doing during the day, one evening they went over the account book and he actually told her he was impressed with the way she was coping. If only they could talk about Jess, about the years they had waited for her and been disappointed, about the joy of her birth – in truth joy that had been overshadowed by fear for Kathie, but that was all in the past and their memories were of joy and relief. But to talk about her would be as dangerous as walking on melting ice. And so they acted as if their world hadn't fallen apart.

At the sound of the shrill bell of the telephone attached to the wall just inside the warm room door, Dennis stood up to answer it. Kathie listened to the one-sided conversation.

‘Of course I remember you . . . No I don't know their routine . . .' Then with a humourless laugh: ‘I'm just a visitor in my own home these days . . . That's extremely kind of you . . . yes, yes much better for them . . . Last Saturday? I can't remember . . . ah, yes, that was it . . . Well, it's different for your son, he's at the school but why this evacuee child was included I don't know . . . To be truthful I didn't notice her absence. Working outside no doubt . . . No, I know where the house is; let me walk down with them. I'd be interested to see the alterations you spoke about . . . About half past ten, then. And thank you. I find it difficult having her here . . . I know and I appreciate what you're saying. Until tomorrow . . .'

‘Who was that?' Kathie asked as he replaced the receiver. The call had brought them nearer to awakening natural curiosity than anything that had gone before.

‘Claudia Marley. I had a long talk with her when I took today's crops to Jack. He introduced us. I wonder she went out of my mind. What a creature! I dare say we're not accustomed to London fashion down here in the sticks. But she's a real cracker. Fancy that husband of hers going off and leaving her. Jack told me about them. Her ex owns the Hall.'

‘I know. Ollie talks about her. Anyway, what did she want?'

‘She is having the pair of them, Oliver and young Beth, for the day tomorrow. He'll call here and I'll walk them down.'

‘He must know where the house is. They're quite capable of going on their own.'

‘I said I'd take them; you heard me tell her so. Don't forget she comes from London with its busy streets.'

‘So does Beth, but she's safe to go anywhere around here on her own.'

She expected a cutting remark and he looked as though he was ready with one but instead, he once again picked up the newspaper.

Next morning the threesome set out, the children both slightly ill-at-ease and making sure they were on their best behaviour. Then Kathie concentrated her efforts on cleaning out the hen house. Saturday was always an extra cheery day, with the advent and enthusiasm of the sixth formers, although on that Saturday they were very aware of the tragedy that had struck Westways and kept their voices subdued. Kathie wished they would act normally. What had softly spoken words and fear of laughing to do with Jess? She glanced across at where the work party were intent on proving their manhood to impress Sarah and Sally. She wanted to hear the normal sound of their banter, she wanted to smile as she listened just as she always had. Oh Jess, why can't they understand you'd hate them to be solemn and buttoned up? Yet was she any different? And was she being loyal to Jess by being afraid to find happiness where she could? Imagine if Jess were here helping with the henhouse. A smile tugged at the corners of Kathie's mouth even though her eyes smarted with tears she blinked away. She seemed to hear that chuckle that was so much part of the little girl's character. Leaning on her shovel she closed her eyes.

‘The old major was a sort of hermit, the place was a complete tip when the agent took her to see it the first time,' Den said when he returned, ‘but she showed me the drawings she'd had done of the improvements and, give it a few months, it's going to be a real corker. Claudia Marley, living in the village in the shadow of the Hall. What a hoot – her words not mine. She's going to find it hard to make friends in the village; she comes from a different world. I told her you'd always make her welcome here. Well, she must have known you would. I'm told you've made this a second home to that queer egg of a kid of hers.'

‘Nothing queer about Ollie. Not that it would be surprising if there were, with a father deserting them and a mother who shipped him off to boarding school at just seven.'