Softly Grow the Poppies (4 page)

‘There is no need, Mr Summers. I have read the newspapers and can make up my own mind about such things.’ She became quiet then, a thoughtful look on her face. ‘Though I must admit I had not heard about the . . . the terrible . . . about Mons.’

‘I have a friend in the War Office who keeps me informed, Miss Beechworth,’ he replied shortly. ‘Now then, let us find your pony and get Charlie and all those young men who are willing to die for their country on their way.’

Not another word was spoken, both recognising the strength of will of the other. As they at last reached the stable yard of the hotel, she realised incredulously that she had been arguing with a complete stranger, a man she had just met and despite what had taken place between them this was baffling in itself. A bizarre episode of what appeared to be mutual recognition had occurred though they had never been in one another’s company before. He was a man about whom she knew very little and they had been at loggerheads about something of which she knew even less!

Sparky was still tethered to a ring in the wall, his nose in a bag of oats that the stable lad had generously give him and he did not take kindly to having the nose bag wrenched from him, but, having filled his belly and recognising Rose, he allowed himself to be led along the side entrance of the hotel and into Lime Street. Rose spoke soothingly into his ear since as soon as he was drawn into the bustle of soldiers who were to board the next troop train he began to object, pulling back on his rein.

With an expertise and calm that Harry watched with hidden admiration, Rose settled Sparky in a way that told him she was used to horses and with trust the animal followed her and plodded towards the station platform where the last of the horses were being loaded.

Charlie and Alice were still standing, hands clasped, in the middle of the mêlée, Lady fidgeting nervously at Charlie’s back. They appeared to be oblivious to those around them and Harry tutted with annoyance.

‘Dear God in heaven, would you look at the pair of them,’ he muttered, then without more ado he took Rose’s hand and led her to the corner where Charlie and Alice were marooned, Sparky trailing behind them.

‘Charlie.’ His brother’s voice brought the young officer from his reverent contemplation of the girl he loved. ‘What in hell’s name do you think you’re doing, you young fool?’ Harry snapped, ‘standing there like some love-sick calf when there is so much to be done. If Jimmy Bentley catches sight of you mooning about you’ll be for it.’ The name of the major Jimmy Bentley, brought Charlie out of his trance and he straightened up immediately. ‘Quickly,’ Harry continued, ‘get the pony to Lady and let us try to get this animal and you on the bloody train.’

Several ladies in their vicinity were extremely shocked by this language, and from someone they had taken for a gentleman, and looked aghast, not just at his words but at the woman he was with.

His voice softened and he bowed to them apologetically then turned back to the little group and the two animals. ‘I’m sorry, Alice, but you must say goodbye. Move over here next to Miss Beechworth. Come along, my dear, Charlie will be all right, won’t you, Charlie. Now, Miss Beechworth, will you . . .’ but Rose was already fastening Sparky’s bridle to Lady’s muzzle strap and with a gentle word and watched by the open-mouthed cavalry men, began to lead the pony up the steep ramp. Despite what he had been through that day Sparky went obediently since he had known and trusted her since his birth, which Rose had witnessed. The mare followed him placidly.

Harry Summers was also open-mouthed with what he was beginning to recognise was more than admiration for an attractive, intelligent and spirited woman. She was, besides these attributes, calm, sensible, practical with none of the airs and graces and the desire for praise that seemed to abound in other young women. She had seen what needed to be done and without any fuss had done it. He wanted to take her hands and say, ‘Good work,’ and perhaps, ‘When can we meet again?’ but he damped down his enthusiasm, merely watching as, the problem solved, she led the gig pony back down the ramp and on to the platform. There was a small cheer from the men around her and she acknowledged it with a nod and a smile. God, she was amazing!

Charlie had dragged himself from Alice’s clinging arms. He raced up the ramp after Lady who was being lovingly tended by a soldier-groom. She was ready to panic again, he could see, the rowdiness that still could be heard from the platform unsettling her once more even though she was comfortably tethered between two other animals who were quiet. The band played a rousing tune, cries of ‘Goodbye’ and ‘Take care of yourself,’ and ‘Don’t worry, Ma, I’ll write soon,’ echoed along the platform, the whistles and hooting from other platforms alarming the animals who had been quiet, their distress conveying itself to the highly strung grey and Charlie forgot for a moment the woman who wept for him. If the horses were like this now how would they react to the long swaying drive and clatter to the camp where the men were to receive further training in the art of killing? He could feel the vibration of the wagon and realised they were actually under way, gathering speed. He was off to war and had not said goodbye to his darling Alice.

With a frantic command to Burton, the soldier-groom, he raced along the corridor of the swaying train, shouldering aside the men who still had their heads out of the windows for a last look at a beloved wife or mother, most of whom held their handkerchiefs to their eyes. She was still there, held in the comforting circle of his brother’s arm. On her other side was the unknown young woman who had so amazingly helped to get Lady aboard. She was holding Alice’s hand. He waved frantically, along with dozens of others, but Alice did not pick him out. He watched as she was led away by Harry and the young woman who was holding the bridle of the gig pony. What a blessing she had been!

He was to revise his opinion in the days to come. In the thick of a battle in which he, like thousands of other young men, had longed to be involved, he was to revise his opinion in the days to come, though it was no fault of Rose’s.

Sparky caused a minor disturbance as he, Rose, Alice and Harry fought to get out of the crush in the station. Rose did her best to soothe him and at the same time was aware that Harry Summers was attempting the same with Alice who was distraught, weeping inconsolably.

‘I didn’t even kiss him goodbye,’ she hiccuped, drooping against Harry’s shoulder.

‘It couldn’t be helped, Alice. He had to get Lady aboard.’

‘I know but—’

‘Now then, Alice,’ Rose interrupted abruptly. ‘You saw him off which is what you wanted so dry your tears. Let’s get Sparky settled then Mr Summers has offered to take us for tea at the Adelphi. Should you not like that?’

‘I wanted to kiss him goodbye.’

Harry and Rose exchanged a look over her head, one in which exasperation and sympathy were mixed. Harry raised his eyebrows, clearly not knowing what to do for the best. He and Charlie had known Alice since she was a small girl and he himself felt about her as he would a sister. But Charlie loved her, not as a sister but as a woman and declared that they were to be married.

The pony was hitched to the wall in the stable yard and the three of them walked down the side passage and round to the front of the hotel, entering the Adelphi through its magnificent arched portico and into the richly appointed entrance hall. The hotel had been a favoured ‘stopping place’ of the royal family, princes of foreign royalty and there were very few visitors of importance to the country who had not stayed there. Consequently it was a favourite of the élite of Liverpool and as the three of them entered they were watched by astonished porters, open-mouthed receptionists, the under-manager who happened to be on duty and guests who were thunderstruck at the sight of the strange trio. They brought the genteel ladies in the tea room to a complete silence. The well-dressed gentleman was not an unusual sight but with one woman weeping most distressingly on one arm and another garbed in what they could only call a
scandalous
outfit, not at all fit for the tea room – both ladies with neither hat nor gloves – it quite spoiled their afternoon! The woman – they could not call her a lady – with her sleeves rolled up, an open-necked shirt and
riding boots
revealed beneath her
split
skirt would not have been allowed into their own drawing rooms and they did not expect to find such attire in any of the places they visited. And would you look at her hair, for heaven’s sake, cut short and in a mass of loose curls around her head!

Harry seated both Alice and Rose, taking no notice of the slack-jawed waiter whose job it was to lead guests to a table of his choosing, then, with that commanding and Rose supposed arrogant manner of his class, gestured to the head waiter who automatically hurried over and took Harry’s order for tea and . . . ‘Should you like cake, or perhaps . . .’ turning to Rose who shook her head. She held Alice’s hand and murmured to her and gradually Alice managed a tearful smile.

‘You have both been so kind but my heart feels as though it is breaking. I knew Charlie was to go but I did not imagine it would be so . . . so cruel. Not even a farewell . . . a kiss . . . oh, dear, please don’t let me start again,’ for she was on the verge of more tears.

‘Alice, we were all saddened by the departure of not only Charlie but all the soldiers who are to fight.’ Then she remembered what Harry Summers had said to her about the British Expeditionary Force and the men who had died at Mons only a few days ago. ‘But we have certainly put the cat among the pigeons here.’ She grinned mischievously and Harry fell more under her spell than ever. ‘The old dears are having a lovely time wondering what the dickens a woman dressed as I am is doing in their precious tea room. I suppose I look like some wandering gypsy. We have quite made their day so why don’t we smile and pretend we are nothing out of the ordinary. Let us think of the day when Charlie comes home with all the other soldiers and you and he can be married. Will you promise that I shall be a bridesmaid? But don’t dress me in pink. I look awful in pink.’

Harry watched her as she made Alice smile and even chuckle. He reflected on the distinct probability that this – meaning not only all the soldiers coming home but a wedding between Charlie and Alice – would never happen. Arthur Weatherly, Alice’s father, wanted more for his only daughter than the second son of a land-rich, cash-poor, family-proud gentleman, whose father had gambled and wenched away his wealth over the past twenty years. The estate Charlie’s father had inherited was falling about his ears and only one son, Harry, was doing his best to keep it all together. Cow sheds needed rebuilding and land draining, not to mention the slow deterioration of the lovely and gracious family home, Summer Place, and there was no money to do it. Arthur Weatherly was not a man to pour money into the hand of the man who had caused such a decline. He would look elsewhere for a suitable husband for his daughter. Harry remembered the struggle he himself had had raising money to buy Charlie a commission, parting reluctantly with some land to do so. They lived on the rents of the tenant farmers with Harry doing his best to manage the estate in his father’s place, a thankless task he discovered, and it certainly ruled out any chance of finding himself a woman willing to live on the pittance that came in. One day it would all be his and unless he or Charlie married an heiress, how were they to maintain it?

Alice was sipping her tea, her long, silky hair slipping from the ribbon that did its best to hold it in place. She was dishevelled from Charlie’s ardent embrace but she had stopped crying and Harry surreptitiously watched Rose who was totally unaware of the stir they had caused. Typically, she did not care. She drank her tea and discussed with Alice how she was to get back to Weatherly House.

‘I can take you in the gig but you must promise to come to Beechworth tomorrow and drink chocolate with me. Dolly makes the best chocolate in the world.’

‘Dolly?’

‘Yes, she runs my house for me.’ She laughed. ‘You see, I am not at all domesticated and cannot manage without her. I love her as though she were my mother.’

Alice smiled wanly. ‘My mama passed away.’

‘As did mine.’

‘Papa might not let me. He will be furious that I have seen Charlie.’

‘Does he not like Charlie then?’ looking suddenly at Harry, for surely they should not be discussing his brother with him sitting there quietly drinking tea.

‘Don’t worry, Miss Beechworth.’ Harry smiled broadly. ‘I know exactly what Mr Weatherly thinks of my family but it does not concern me unduly. Now, if you are ready, let’s go and rescue poor Sparky who has done us all a great service today.’

They were stared at quite openly as they picked their way through the tables towards the wide hallway, for never had such a sight been seen in this exclusive hotel, meaning the tall girl with the cropped hair and what they could only call ‘
trousers
’ or so her split skirt seemed to be! The culprit was oblivious to their gaze, Alice was too upset to notice and Harry Summers simply did not care!

A
s Rose steered Sparky and the gig into the stable yard Dolly’s voice could be heard from the stable and it was pretty obvious she was giving Fred and Davy what she called the length of her tongue. ‘Do I have to light a fire under you, you gormless half-wits, or shall I saddle them horses myself? She’s been gone all day and anything could have happened to her on that road to Old Swan. There’s hedges on both side where tramps an’ such like could hide themselves an’ seein’ a lovely lass like our Rose could set about her an’ . . . an’ . . . so damn well get a move on or you’ll feel the back of me hand, Fred Simmons,’ despite the fact that Fred was almost as old as Dolly with a grown family of his own. ‘I dunno, if you want a job doing properly and quickly you’ve to do it yourself.’

Rose brought the gig to a stop, smiling at Alice who looked slightly alarmed. By this time the trio in the stable had heard the gig’s wheels on the cobbles and the clip of Sparky’s hooves. Dolly whirled out into the yard and with hardly a pause for breath vented her anger and worry on to her mistress. ‘Where the devil have you been, young lady, I’d like to know, worrying us all to death thinkin’ you were dead in a ditch, set upon by thieves and gone all day without a word to anyone. In ter luncheon, you said an’ here it is with me gettin’ ready ter sort out dinner an’ you drive in as bold as you please . . .’