Chaff upon the Wind (40 page)

Side by side, Kitty and Miriam stood looking down at the man in Edward’s bed, sleeping now but still not peaceful, for his body twitched and his mouth worked. The two
women moved outside the bedroom, away from the sickly sweet smell of blood mingling with the man’s sweat of fear and pain.

‘You’ll never manage him on your own, Kitty. We’ll use my old room and take it in turns to sleep there. He mustn’t be left for a while, day or night. And I’ll dress
the stump for you.’

Kitty bit her lip, knowing what she said was true. ‘Are you sure, miss?’

Miriam nodded. ‘I’m sure.’

Kitty stared at the girl who had been her young mistress, wilful, obstinate and selfish. The young woman who now stood beside her was very different. There was a calmness, a serenity about her
now and that was not all. Deep in her eyes there was compassion. The horrors she must have witnessed at the Front had left their abiding mark upon Miriam. She was a different being to the petulant
girl who had made such a fuss about a sliver of glass in her foot or had been unable to sit with her sickly brother. Kitty could see and admire a new strength and purpose in Miriam.

She was still beautiful of course, and, Kitty guessed, as passionate as ever about what she believed in. And did that passion still include the man lying, so terribly maimed, in the room behind
them?

There was a long silence until Kitty whispered ‘Are you still in love with him?’

Miriam’s green eyes returned Kitty’s gaze steadfastly. ‘No, Kitty, I’m not. Though I would never have wished something like this to happen, I do see him now for the man
he was – is,’ she altered her wording swiftly. There was a silence before she said, pondering, ‘A strange mixture, isn’t he, our Threshing Jack?’

When Kitty made no answer, Miriam went on, though it was almost as if she were speaking to herself rather than to anyone else. ‘I’ve seen so many men die in so many ways. Some with a
silent courage, who slipped away without a word, others stoically bearing the most horrific injuries when we hadn’t the means to ease their pain. And the others, the poor young boys screaming
piteously for their mother or big, strong ones getting fighting mad, like Jack in there. He was a fine figure of a male, Kitty, and I am sorry to see him brought so low. Very sorry, but you
know,’ Kitty felt Miriam touch her arm, ‘Jack Thorndyke is not a
man
in the way that Edward is, or – or that poor Guy was. Maybe you don’t see him as I do now, Kitty.
Not yet. But if you ever do, I beg you to have the courage to leave him. For if ever you were to stop loving a man like Jack Thorndyke, then your life with him would be a misery.’

Kitty dropped her head and could not answer. How could she tell this girl, who was now so changed, that it was for her – and her son – that she stayed with Jack? How could she ever
explain the hold that the man exerted over her, the threat that bound her to him? The threat that he would reveal Miriam’s secret. Better that Miriam should go on believing that Kitty stayed
with him because she still loved him.

She felt Miriam pat her arm and move away. ‘Now, you go and get some sleep, Kitty. You’ve had a horrible shock today. I’ll see to him tonight.’

The weariness washed over her in waves and all Kitty could do was nod and say, ‘Thank you, miss.’

As Kitty moved towards the opposite bedroom, Miriam opened the door into the room where Jack lay and closed it behind her.

In the days that followed, Kitty felt awkward being at the Manor with Jack and, more especially, with Johnnie there so often too. What if, in his delirium, Jack said something
about the boy or about Miriam? And what if the master heard? But, ironically, it was Mr Franklin himself who put her mind at ease.

Meeting her in the hall the morning after the accident, he said, ‘Kitty, come into my study a moment, will you?’

Kitty swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as he closed the door and motioned her to a seat while he took up a stance before the blazing fire in the huge iron grate. For several moments he stood
just looking at her, as if he were assessing every feature, every line of her face, until Kitty, embarrassed, dropped her glance.

‘You’re very like your mother was, you know, when she was your age.’

Now Kitty looked up to meet his gaze again. ‘Am I, sir?’ she whispered.

He nodded. ‘And you have her brightness, her – her mischief. At least . . .’ he paused, considering, and his voice deepened, ‘you used to have. When you first came to
work here.’ He paused again and then there was a gentleness in his tone that Kitty had never, ever, heard before in the master’s voice. ‘Until life dealt you some unkind blows
too.’

She didn’t need to ask what the ‘too’ meant. She knew he was referring to her mother and his sadness told Kitty that he still carried the burden of guilt for the part he had
played in the life of Betsy Clegg.

‘Is she . . .’ his voice faltered, ‘all right? Your mother?’

Kitty felt a rush of sympathy flood through her for this man. His bluff exterior hid emotions she had not thought him capable of. With a sudden tenderness, she smiled at the man who, though he
was not, could very well have been her father. ‘She’s fine.’

‘Is she – has she been – happy?’

She returned his gaze steadily. She couldn’t lie to this man. It wouldn’t be fair. ‘I think so, sir. As happy as it was possible for her to be.’

He passed his hand briefly across his forehead and asked, ‘He’s been good to her, Clegg?’

Now she could answer truthfully, for Betsy Clegg herself would never say any different. ‘Oh yes, sir. A good husband and father to us all.’

Kitty saw him relax. ‘Good. Good. I’m glad.’

She wanted to say, And you, sir? Have you been happy? But she could not. Even though he was talking to her now as an equal, still Kitty could not quite bring herself to cross the divide between
master and servant. Not with Mr Franklin. And besides, there was really no need to ask the question, for, sadly, Kitty felt she knew the answer.

Between them, Kitty and Miriam nursed Jack, taking it in turns to sit with him through the long nights when he lay quite still, though his skin was burning to the touch, or
when he threshed about in feverish agony, his sweat soaking the bedclothes.

Kitty mopped his brow and changed his clothes and sheets, held a feeding cup to his lips or spoon-fed him the thin soup and milk puddings that Mrs Grundy sent up. But it was Miriam who changed
the dressings on his stump, Miriam who washed him and attended to his intimate bodily functions. And though she stayed to help, all the while Kitty could see that it was upon Miriam that
Jack’s dark gaze rested.

It was ironic, Kitty could not help thinking, as she sat huddled in a blanket near the window in the cold, early light of dawn, that he had avoided going to war only to be maimed in a far worse
way than perhaps he would have been at the battle front.

And there was another irony too; the fact that Jack was now lying in the room where for so many months, years even, the young Edward had remained a virtual prisoner in his sickbed, able to watch
the outside world only from this very window. She rubbed away the faint mist her breath had made on the pane and strained her eyes to see down the length of the garden, over the wall to where
Sylvie
still stood in forlorn silence. The stack was half threshed, the drum halted in its work, suspended still in that moment of drama, waiting . . .

Kitty sighed, wondering how they were ever going to cope with the work. Who could she get to finish it? For now there was no Ben to take Jack’s place and old Nathaniel could not work the
engine. Jack would blame it all on Ben for going, she thought suddenly. He would blame anyone and everyone else for his accident; Ben, for leaving, and whoever had plastered white feathers over his
engine so that he was so angry and forgetful of the danger. The insult had eaten away at him. And her. Kitty was sure he would blame her too. The doctor had said as much only the previous day.

‘He’s over the worst physically, but it’s his mind you’ll have to deal with now, my dear.’ He’d stroked his moustache. ‘I do not envy you your task, for
the suffering tend to take it out on their nearest and dearest. I can see that a man such as Jack Thorndyke will not take kindly to what he will consider being a cripple. I’ll get him moved
to the hospital tomorrow. It’ll give you a respite and time to get things ready at your home. Mr Franklin has said Bemmy can take him in the motor car and Miriam will go with him . . .’
The doctor’s eyes twinkled merrily for a moment. ‘Just to make sure Bemmy’s driving doesn’t cause a relapse in our patient, eh?’

Kitty tried to smile, knowing the doctor was deliberately trying to lift her spirits, yet all the while she was thinking, Miriam, Miriam, Miriam. It was always Miriam caring for Jack.

As she told him, hesitantly, of the doctor’s plans, Jack lay listlessly, sunk against the pillows, his handsome face gaunt with black shadows beneath his eyes. ‘I don’t see why
they’re bothering. They can’t sew me arm back on, now can they?’

‘The doctor wants the – the . . .’ she swallowed painfully, ‘the wound treated properly. Then you’ll come back home to – to the cottage.’

There was silence, then suddenly Jack said, ‘This is his room, ain’t it?’ and he pulled himself up in the bed for the first time since he had been put there, craning to see out
of the window. ‘Aye, I thought so. You can see the stackyard from here.’ He was silent as he stared through the window at the deserted yard and idle machinery. Then he flopped back
against the pillows and lay just looking up at the ceiling.

‘I used to see him, you know, watching us. Standing at this window, just watching. I reckon he was watching you.’

She began to say, ‘Don’t be silly . . .’ but Jack twisted his head on the pillow to look at her. ‘I thought he was home? Doesn’t he want his room back?’

‘He’s staying at the Hall with – with his sister.’

‘You seen him?’

‘When have I had time to go visiting, Jack? Talk sense.’

He moved his head again to stare once more at the ceiling above him.

‘We’ll have to move you home soon, anyway,’ she told him.

He didn’t speak for a while, then, ‘Have they said they want us out?’

‘No, no, they’ve been very good. All – all of them.’

His lip curled. ‘Aye, even Florence Nightingale herself.’

‘There’s no need to take that attitude, Jack. Miriam saved your life.’

‘Then it’s her I’ve to blame, is it, for still being alive? Getting her revenge on me, was she?’

Kitty’s mouth hardened. ‘You’ve no right to say such things. No right at all. You’ll have to manage on your own for a while. I must go to my mother’s to fetch
Johnnie.’ She made to turn from him, but Jack reached out with his one hand and grasped her arm. There was still a surprising strength in his grip. She stood quietly, submitting herself to
his hold on her.

‘Don’t bring him here. I don’t want him to see me. Not like this.’

‘He’ll love you just the same, Jack, and besides, he saw it all. He was there when it happened. In fact, it was him who came running to find me and I believe, though it scarcely
seems possible that he managed it, he was the one who stopped the machinery. Nathaniel said when it happened Johnnie and Billy scambled up on to the engine and stopped it.’

His voice was a low growl. ‘He’d a done better to leave me be. Best all round if I’d . . .’ In his eyes, she saw a sudden fear, a desperation. His voice was a hoarse
whisper as he said, ‘Kitty, you won’t leave me, will you?’

She smiled down at him gently and shook her head. There was a sadness in her heart, but she strove valiantly to hide it from the mutilated man. ‘No, Jack,’ she said. ‘I
won’t leave you.’ He needed her now, more than ever before, and she knew she would stay.

She smoothed the hair back from his forehead. ‘Try to rest while I go and fetch Johnnie home.’

He sank back against the pillows with a sigh, but as she reached the door, he murmured, ‘They should have let me die. I’d be better off dead. And now, I can’t even volunteer to
be cannon fodder.’

‘Well, I aren’t staying if you’re going to feel sorry for yasen,’ she said, making her tone deliberately sharp, realizing, more by instinct than by rational thought, that
with a man like Jack goading him to anger was perhaps the only way to rouse him from depression. She pulled open the door, stepped out of the room and shut it behind her with a resounding bang.
Then she stood a moment, shocked at her own actions as she remembered, too late, in whose house they were.

If the master were at home, then . . .

But as she listened, holding her breath, no angry voice was raised against the noise and she fled down the stairs and into the kitchen, breathing hard.

Two pairs of startled eyes turned towards her. ‘What is it, lass? Is he worse?’

Kitty stopped and placed her hand over her thudding heart. ‘No, no, I just got a bit mad with him feeling sorry for himself and I forgot where I was and banged the bedroom door.’ She
gave a nervous laugh. ‘Then I stood waiting for the master to come raging out of his study to shout at me.’

‘Oh he’s out – and madam, too,’ Milly said. ‘So you’re safe – this time.’

‘I’m just going to fetch Johnnie home.’

‘All right,’ Milly nodded. ‘I’ll go up in a bit and take him this jelly.’

Kitty said, ‘You are good, Mrs G. You spoil him . . .’

But the cook was shaking her head. ‘Ain’t nowt to do wi’ me. ’Tis all Milly’s doin’.’ The woman laughed. ‘Reckon she’s glad of a captive
guinea pig for her efforts. Mind you, to be fair, and you know I always try to be, Kitty, she’s not shaping up badly. I can see I’ll be pensioned off afore me time if I aren’t
careful.’

‘Oh Mrs Grundy, you know we couldn’t do without you.’ Milly dipped her head, pretending embarrassment, but not before her older sister had seen the look of triumph in the
girl’s eyes.

Kitty hugged Johnnie to her until he wriggled to be set free. ‘Leave off, Mam.’

It seemed an age since she had seen him even though it was only days. He’d stayed the first two nights at the Manor, but Kitty had made the excuse that, with Jack to care for, she could
pay little attention to the boy. The truth was that she didn’t like him seeing so much of Miriam, nor she of him.