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Authors: Emily Sharratt

BOOK: Come Home Soon
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Nine

“Ellie!”

Ellie lifted her head, which had been slumped over her latest knitting attempt – the first one had not been deemed good enough to be sent with the school's package to the troops. This murky green mess looked unlikely to make the cut either.

“I've called you three times already,” Miss Smith sighed.

Ellie noticed Rosemary and Janet elbowing each other and giggling.

“Sorry, miss.”

She had been finding it harder than ever to focus these past few days. It had been bad enough missing her father, but now she didn't even have Jack. She hadn't heard anything from him since their argument in the woods.

Miss Smith looked at her with a mixture of frustration and sympathy. “Well, come up here and let me see if I can salvage that. And please try to pay attention this time!”

Ellie trudged up to Miss Smith's desk and watched her wrangle with the knotted wool, muttering under her breath.

Ellie's toes curled whenever she remembered the things she'd said about Jack's father. They were unforgivable. But whenever she'd thought about sneaking out to his house to apologize (Josephine didn't approve of her visiting the side of the village where the factory-workers lived), she felt a fresh wave of anger. She was sick of Jack acting as though war was just a game, oblivious to how lonely and terrified she was.

“There now. That'll have to do,” Miss Smith said, handing her back the knitting, which had been stripped all the way back to the second row again.

“Thank you, miss,” Ellie said distractedly as she returned to her desk.

Maybe her mother had been right all along, she thought sadly. Maybe she and Jack were from too worlds that were too different. Perhaps now they were growing up it was to hard to ignore.

Miss Smith looked at the clock. “All right, girls, that will do for today. Keep your knitting in your desk and we'll carry on tomorrow.”

Ellie groaned softly to herself as she lifted the desk lid and unceremoniously stuffed her knitting into the drawer. As she gathered her things, she heard a sharp ripple of conversation that suddenly stopped as she closed the lid and looked up. Immediately she saw why. Standing before her, with her hands on her hips, was Jack's sister, Anna. Anna had only returned to school for a week after the summer holidays, before dropping out for good. It was common knowledge that she'd had a scholarship, which was why she'd stayed on as long as she had. But her earnings were now needed to support her family; Mabel and Jack's wages just didn't stretch far enough, and Joe's never seemed to make it home from the pub.

“You've got a nerve, Ellie Phillips!” Anna's fists, clenched against her hips, were so tight that her knuckles showed white.

“What—”

“Just like your father, you are. Sticking your beak into things that don't concern you!”

“I don't understand. . .”

Anna was smaller than Ellie, but that made her no less formidable. Ellie looked around, but Miss Smith was in the neighbouring classroom, talking to Mr Thompson. The few girls who were left in the classroom were looking on curiously.

“What business is it of yours if I drop out of school? Where is the shame in working to feed your own family? We can't all be as lucky as you, Lady Muck! Some of us have never had a maid, however hard-done-by you must feel now you've lost yours.”

Ellie wanted to speak but instead the words stuck in her throat and she felt choked. Most of the girls had drifted out by now, some looking awkwardly over their shoulders as they went, but one or two had hung back, clearly still enjoying the entertainment.

“And another thing! You can stay away from our Jack; He's a good person; he doesn't need the likes of you—”

“What's going on in here?” Miss Smith was back. “Oh, hello, Anna. It's good to see you again. Is everything all right?”

“Fine, thanks, miss,” Anna replied with a tight smile. “Just delivering a message for my mam. Best be off back to the shop.”

She stormed out without so much as a glance in Ellie's direction.

“Well, you've certainly managed to tick her off!” Rosemary remarked.

Ellie felt tears starting to fill her eyes once again. She was not normally much of a crier, but these days she was rarely dry-eyed. Grabbing her bag, she ran from the room and into the yard, where she threw herself on to her bicycle and pedalled with all her might. The slow pounding of blood in her ears almost seemed to drown out the creaking of the wheels and the crashing of the waves along the seafront.

She couldn't believe Jack had spoken to Anna about their argument – had told her what she'd said! Her stomach rolled and for a moment she thought she would be sick. Surely Jack knew that she didn't mean it – at least, not the way it had come out? Now Anna hated her and maybe Jack did too. Maybe she deserved it.

 

That Saturday afternoon, Ellie played cards with her mother in the living room while Charlie happily
marched his toy soldiers at their feet. It was rare that
Josephine was willing to participate in a shared activity such as this, let alone suggest it, but as Ellie had brought Charlie downstairs after his nap, her mother had all but pounced on her.

“You've been moping around for days now – weeks! Whatever it is, dwelling on it won't help. I always find the best thing is to keep busy.”

Ellie thought bitterly of her mother's many hours spent shut away in a darkened bedroom, but she kept quiet. It was an unfamiliar but not unpleasant experience for her mother to be taking an interest. She would not be the one to ruin it.

And in a way, her mother was right. The game was a distraction from the many thoughts running through her mind, even if Mother didn't seem to feel the need for much conversation.

A sudden hammering at the front door startled them. Mother and daughter looked at each other in surprise for a moment, before Ellie leapt to her feet.

Opening the front door, she saw Jack. The familiar warm feeling spread through her before she noticed his distraught expression.

“Jack—”

“Oh, Ellie, please help. You've got to! It's my dad; he's hurt! I went by your dad's surgery but the sign on the door says the doctor's out visiting a patient.”

“What's wrong with your father?” came her mother's crisp voice from the hall. Ellie hadn't even heard her approach.

“He got into a terrible fight at the pub—”

Ellie could hear the sneer in her mother's voice. “Oh? I'm terribly sorry, Jack, but we really can't get involved every time your father's had one beer too many. There would be no end of it! Now, you'll just have to—”

Ellie was unable to listen to another word. Couldn't her mother see how upset Jack was? How scared? She barged past her mother and seized the spare keys to the surgery from the hook in the hallway, tore back out of the door and took hold of Jack's arm.

“Where on earth do you think you're going, Eleanor?”

Ellie didn't even look back. “I'm going to help. That's what Father would do. And it's what he'd want us to do as well.”

Ignoring her mother's shouts, she leaped on to her bicycle, and they pedalled away, not exchanging a word until they reached The Dog and Duck. Joe was slumped over his knees on the curb, his hands covering his face. Ted Townsend, a young fisherman, was sitting next to him holding a glass of water and looking as though he'd rather be anywhere else. Ellie could smell the beer on Joe's breath and clothes.

“Thanks, Ted,” Jack said, crouching next to his father and resting a hand on his shoulder.

As Joe looked up, Ellie couldn't help but gasp at the sight of his swollen eye and the blood gushing from his nose. His handkerchief was already soaked through. His gaze was unfocused as he turned to his son.

“Jack. . .” He trailed off.

“It's all right, Dad. Ellie's going to let us into the surgery. I'm sure that new doctor will be back soon and he'll have you right as rain in no time.”

“Do you think you can walk, Mr Scott?” Ellie asked.

Joe looked up at her without any sign of recognition.

“Come on, Dad, you can walk, can't you?” Jack coaxed.

But Ellie could see that Joe was holding his left arm tucked in protectively against his ribs, and when Jack heaved him to his feet, he staggered and looked as though he would topple over. Ellie couldn't tell if it was his injuries or the alcohol that was making him so unsteady on his feet.

“Give us a hand, eh, Ted?”

Ted and Jack each took one of Joe's arms – he flinched when Jack took his left – and together the four trudged towards the surgery.

Ellie rushed ahead to unlock the door, before leading the men into the examination room. She sent Ted away, and filled a bowl with warm water to wash Joe's face.

Thomas arrived only moments later, as she was gently moving the flannel over Joe's injuries. He sent Jack and Ellie out to the waiting room while he checked Joe over. They sat in anxious silence, but they didn't have long to wait. After a couple of minutes Thomas came out.

“Not much to worry about, Jack, nothing's broken. He's pretty bruised all over and that will hurt when he . . . ah . . . sobers up. He's nodded off in there and I think a bit of a snooze is probably the best thing for him. I'm going to take advantage of it to clean him up a bit more!”

“Thank you, doctor,” Jack croaked.

“Not at all, that's my job.” Thomas smiled, then returned to the examination room.

“Seems like a decent chap,” Jack observed after a few moments' silence.

“He is,” Ellie agreed, then paused. “Jack . . . what happened?”

“I don't know for sure. I think it might have something to do with. . .”

He seemed unsure how to continue. Ellie rubbed his arm reassuringly. “Go on.”

“Well, Dad and I were in the butcher's earlier – Mam had asked us to pick something up. While we were queuing, this woman comes up to Dad and hands him. . . She passes him a white feather. . .”

“Oh!”

“You know. . . ?”

“I know,” Ellie said quickly.

They had been hearing more and more, in the papers and from local gossip, about these white feathers, given by women to able-bodied men who hadn't signed up for the army. The feather represented cowardice. As far as Ellie knew, this was the first one to have been given in Endstone.

“Who was she – the woman?”

“I don't know. She was gone before we properly realized what had happened. But she was no one I recognized. I suppose she might have been one of your Aunt Frances's lot.”

“What do you mean?” Ellie didn't understand what this could possibly have to do with Aunt Frances. She was sure her aunt would never be so unkind. Not to mention the fact that she was all the way over in Brighton.

“You know, that Votes for Women crowd seems to be joining forces with the blasted white feather brigade. . .”

They fell silent again, both deep in their own thoughts. Aunt Frances did talk a lot about the need for women to get the vote, and Ellie knew she had been involved with a group campaigning for this right. But she felt confident her aunt would take no part in humiliating another person, whatever she might think of his actions or politics. It didn't feel the right moment to argue this point with Jack however. She was just glad they were speaking again.

“What happened next. . .” she prompted gently.

“Dad went scarlet and stormed off to The Dog and Duck. I followed, but he told me to leave him alone. It's best not to argue with him when he gets like that, so I did. But he wasn't home a couple of hours later and I was worried. Mam was worried too. So I went to fetch him and found him like you saw. Ted said he didn't see exactly what happened but I reckon maybe someone said something about the feather and Dad just went for them. . .”

“Jack, does he often get into fights?”

“No! He's . . . well, I mean, you know what he's like. He's not what you'd call friendly. But he's not normally violent. It's just that he's been getting more withdrawn since war broke out. He won't talk about it – won't even talk about Will! He pretends none of it's happening. His drinking is getting worse too. . .” He glanced at her, and Ellie tried to keep her face as blank as possible. She didn't want Jack to think she was judging his family again. “It's getting really bad, Ellie. Mam's worried he might lose his job, and then we'll really be stuffed. . .”

Ellie hated to see her friend so worried. She put her hand on his. “It's strange for everyone, Jack. We're all getting used to it. Everything's so different now. But I'm sure things will get better soon. They have to!”

He looked up at her and smiled crookedly. It was a ghost of his usual grin, but a smile nonetheless. “Well, you're the clever one. You're probably right! I don't know why he's so against the war, th—”

He broke off as Thomas re-entered the room, guiding Joe by the elbow. Joe was holding a cold towel to his eye and his gaze was fixed on the floor.

“Like I said, nothing much to worry about. I'm sure you'll be pretty sore for the next few days, not least your head. But there'll be no lasting damage. Erm . . . it might be an idea to lay off the beer for a while, Joe. That won't help your recovery.”

Joe and Jack flushed a matching shade of crimson. Ellie knew the embarrassment her friend must be feeling, and her heart went out to him.

“Right, thanks, doctor,” Joe muttered, still without looking up. “Come along, lad.”

Ellie watched them go, observing how, as soon as he thought they were out of sight, Joe became helpless again, leaning against his son for support.

She thought about Jack. Here she was complaining about all her responsibilities since her father went away, but Jack had been looking after his dad and the rest of his family for years. Everyone thought he was such a joker – Ellie's mother perhaps most of all – but there was a lot more to him than that.

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