Softly Grow the Poppies (7 page)

‘What does that mean, Harry?’ She sat in a chair opposite him, sipping her chocolate, her hands cupped round the mug, one of the puppies determinedly chewing the toe of her boot while the other cried under the table lost in the folds of the cloth and unable to see his mother. Harry casually rescued him then sat down again.

‘It means the trench lines dug by our troops and theirs are so heavily defended on both sides they cannot be breached. Miles of barbed wire and machine guns are deployed. Charlie says—’

‘You’ve heard from your brother?’

‘Yes, being an officer his letters aren’t censored so he can tell me these things. Anyway, I shall find out for myself soon. I shall report . . .’

She scarcely heard the rest of his sentence, for the banging of her heart was in her ears. She could not bear to think of him in danger and her face was white now, the lovely peach tint drained from it.

‘. . . so I shall have to get the . . . the funeral over and then . . . I’m hoping Charlie will get compassionate leave. Forty-eight hours perhaps.’

He was filled with consternation when she stood up abruptly, picked up the puppies and made for the door.

‘I must let you get on. I’m sorry to have held you up.’

He stood just as quickly. ‘Don’t be daft, lass,’ smiling as he fell into the tongue of the Lancashire man he was. ‘You have been most welcome. And what about the puppies? You can’t carry them on a horse. I assume you rode over?’

‘I can walk.’

‘Let me send them over with Enoch then.’

‘I would be glad if your man could bring them. It will give me time to warn Dolly.’

She was terrified he would see the expression on her face which would have told him that she found his going to war was unbearable. At last she understood what Alice had gone through. Stumbling to the front door, not bothering to be
shown out
as was the correct way of doing things in their society, she ran down the steps, mounted her chestnut mare which was almost the same colour as her own hair and galloped off down the neglected drive as if the devil were after her.

When she reached home she dismounted and almost threw the mare’s reins at Davy, who scuttled from the stable where he and Fred had been having a crafty smoke, and dashed across the yard to the kitchen door.

‘We’ve got a visitor,’ were the first words Dolly spoke, moving to one side as Rose flung open the door, revealing, to Rose’s astonishment, the huddled figure of Alice Weatherly. She was slumped at the table doing her best to drink the cup of tea that Dolly had thrust into her shaking hands.

‘Alice!’ At once Rose could feel the hopelessness that had run through her body when Harry told her he was to go to war begin to drain away from her. Here at last was someone she could talk to, someone who would understand what she herself was feeling, but when Alice stood up, the tea ignored, the change in her was obvious. Dolly was to tell every one of them over and over in the next few days that she had never been so shocked in all her born days. Her lovely bright hair, which had once been so fair and bonny, hung in a lank curtain about her face and down her back. Her eyes were lifeless and her hands wavered like two snowflakes towards Rose as though she might fall. Tom was in the kitchen having a brew and as Alice stood, his newly lit pipe fell from between his teeth and shattered on the stone floor, the noise seeming to bring them all back to life. Dolly took her hand from her face and turned on Carrie and Polly, shooing them into the scullery.

‘Why don’t tha’ come to’t fire, my lamb, an’ get thi’ warm,’ Dolly invited and Rose moved at last.

‘Come, Alice, you must be frozen. Bring your tea and do as Dolly says.’

Alice did as she was told, moving in a way that told them she was used to being obedient and if they had said, ‘Go and peel those potatoes,’ she would have done so though she had never peeled a potato in her life. She wore an old shawl that had seen better days and which had probably belonged to one of her father’s servants. She could not seem able to stop shivering and when she was seated Rose went to her and knelt at her feet.

‘I had nowhere else to go,’ Alice said simply, ‘but if you are unable to . . . I’ll understand.’

‘The workhouse, you mean.’

Alice recoiled but Rose put her strong young arms about her and hugged her close. ‘You are a daft little thing,’ she told her lovingly. ‘Dolly and I will take care of you, won’t we, Dolly?’

‘Course we will, chuck. Now drink your tea and get thi’ warm. You’ve come to the right place, my lamb. Now let’s get you settled,’ calling to the three maids who were lurking in the doorway to the scullery, not wanting to miss what was happening. ‘Carrie, run up to the linen cupboard and bring down some blankets. They’re on the top shelf,’ as if Carrie, who had been making beds at Beechworth House for years, would not know that. ‘Now, Miss Alice, strip off by the fire and let’s get you warm. Nay, no one will come in,’ she said, as Tom retreated towards the door. ‘There’s only us women here’ she added. ‘Nay, my lass, don’t cry,’ putting a motherly arm about Alice.

Between them they took Alice’s garments from her one by one, doing their best not to look at her jutting belly, which in contrast to her thinness seemed all the more swollen. She wore a pretty woollen dress in a soft rose pink which strained over the bulge of her pregnancy, and a corset which, presumably, had hidden her condition until now.

The maids’ eyes were wide, not just with dismay, for the worst thing that could happen to a girl was to be with child without a husband, but with pity since Miss Alice was only a child herself. They had seen her now and again going by in her carriage and marvelled at her sweet face. And who on earth could have got her in this condition and then gone off, perhaps to war, and abandoned her? Alice was in such a stunned state she didn’t seem to mind her nakedness, forgetting the modesty with which she had been brought up, allowing them to wrap her in the warmed blankets then sitting obediently in the rocking-chair. She stared into the fire while the rest of them tiptoed round her, giving her time to recover a little, when she suddenly began to talk.

‘Charlie and I – before he went to France – we loved one another . . .’ She did not know how to word the rapturous lovemaking she and Charlie had shared. ‘We were going to be married – run away and be married since my father would not countenance it, then the war came and there was no time. He has written to me, through Harry.’

The maids’ faces were a picture! Charlie and Harry! The Summers brothers! And here was poor little Miss Weatherly in the family way!

‘My maid wept; she had come into my bedroom unexpectedly and saw me. She screamed in her shock and my father came racing up, and some of the servants . . . I hadn’t had time to put my corsets on, you see. He shouted at me, called me names, awful names. My maid – she loves me – tried to stand up to him but he hit her, knocked her down as though it were her fault. He pushed me away when I tried to help her. “Get dressed,” he said, “and get out of my house.” Then he swore. I had no coat. He pushed me away again and I almost fell down the stairs – I might have lost the baby, Charlie’s child. He followed me, my father . . . The servants were horrified and tried to help me. Dear God, it was like a nightmare . . . my father, he’s . . . Gilly – she’s my maid – ran after me and put this shawl round me . . . she was crying . . . She’ll be dismissed.’

‘She can come here, Alice.’

‘You are all so kind. I must let Harry know so that he can tell Charlie where I am; just until I can find somewhere . . .’

‘Stop it, Alice, stop it, I say. You will stay here with us and have your baby and then we will see what is to be done.’

Rose was aware of the sharp intake of Dolly’s breath and the maids, who had been brought up, as decent girls were, to believe that it was a sin to consort with a man to whom one was not married, exchanged glances, for what would their families say if they knew.

‘No, oh no, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t presume . . . my mind was . . . I was in such a state . . . I gave it no thought so I came here. I did try to get out to see you but I was watched, after that day when you and I went to the station. I couldn’t even send you a letter. Oh, Rose, please let me rest for an hour then I will see if perhaps Harry . . .’

Her voice was apologetic and she lapsed into silence. They held their breath, waiting to see if she had anything else to say and though they were all shocked to the core like all virtuous women of their time would be, could they be cruel enough to judge the poor little thing? Dolly wondered how many other young women would find themselves in the same condition at a time like this when their sweethearts went off to war and might never come back. Besides, this house was not hers, it belonged to Rose and it was Rose who would make the decisions.

The servants were still standing unmoving, Rose kneeling with her arms about Miss Alice when a commotion at the back door had them all twittering like a flock of starlings. What the devil was happening outside in the yard? A voice could be heard asking for Miss Beechworth and when Fanny opened the door, had they not been in such a trance it might have been amusing. A working man stood there and in his arms were two wriggling puppies. The man looked most put out as though this was not really his job and the quicker it was done the better he would like it.

‘Sir Harry sent these little buggers. Rather you than me,’ he told the astonished maid, thrusting them into her reluctant arms. She shrieked as though they were live snakes, put them down on the clean floor and stepped back, holding up her skirts. Both of them promptly squatted down and made water.

Alice laughed and as Dolly watched her, she forgave everything and everybody, which included Miss Rose, to hear Miss Alice laugh when moments ago she looked as though she might do herself some harm if left to her own devices.

‘Miss Davenport . . . what are we to do?’ Fanny stammered, looking as though she were ready to jump on the nearest chair to avoid the excited puppies.

‘Nay . . . nay,’ Dolly wailed, ‘what ’ave thi’ done now, Miss Rose? See . . .’ turning to the man on the doorstep. ‘Tha’ll ’ave ter tekk ’em back.’

The man was truculent. ‘Sir Harry – aye, – ’is dad died this day an’ it’s
Sir Harry
now – ses ter give ’em ter Miss Beechworth, an’ that’s what I done.’ He turned on his heel, climbed into the trap and drove swiftly out of the yard.

Rose got to her feet. ‘Lord, I forgot about the puppies with all . . .’ She turned to Alice. ‘I thought you might like one, Alice. They’re called Ginger and Spice.’

‘Never mind what they’re called,’ Dolly screeched. ‘They’re not stopping in my kitchen so you can put that in yer pipe an’ smoke it. See, will tha’ look at that.’ It was a sign of her agitation that she was struggling with her words. ‘Tell Fred ter tekk ’em to’t stable an’—’

‘Oh, no, please, Miss Davenport, let me look after them, with Rose, of course. I have always wanted a dog of my own. I’ll clean up after them, I promise.’ A light had been restored to Alice’s eyes, perhaps only momentarily but for the present she was taking an interest in something other than her own terrible dilemma.

For the first time Nessie, the cook, spoke up. Until now she had watched the drama without a word but now she gave her opinion for what it was worth.

‘Forget the wee dogs. That lassie needs to get to her bed. Let Fred take the pups to the stable where Fred and Davy and my Tom’ll care for ’em. They’ve got each other so they’ll not fret for their mam. There’ll be enough goin’ on in the next few days to be mitherin’ about puppies. Tekk Miss Weatherly to her bed, Miss Rose, get her tucked up an’ then later she can have summat to eat. I’ll mekk her a tasty dish for she’s eatin’ fer two now.’

Nessie’s sensible suggestion calmed them all down, even Dolly who was not used to being told what to do. She went to the back door shouting for Davy or Fred and told them to take the small animals to the stable and . . . well, do whatever you did with such creatures, wiping her hands of them completely. It was nothing to do with her what Miss Rose did in her own household though she did her best to stop her mistress from acting too hastily over many matters. She was just too good-hearted in Dolly’s opinion!

At last peace was restored. A fire was lit in the best spare bedroom, Miss Alice had been bathed by herself and Miss Rose, even to the washing of her hair which looked lovely again, curling softly down her back. She wore a nightdress of Dolly’s and was put to bed with a hot-water bottle at her feet and when Rose looked in on her later, replenishing the fire, drawing the curtains in the lovely candle-lit bedroom, Alice was sleeping like a baby, her face flushed, calm, as a well-loved child will sleep.

Rose had sent a message by Davy to Harry saying that if he could come at once she would be grateful. It was to do with Alice and Charlie, she wrote.

He rode in the dark, a lantern fixed to his saddle on a stick bobbing ahead of him and was ringing the bell at Beechworth House within the hour. Fred was summoned to see to his horse. And the question of Charlie and Alice was discussed at length by Harry and Rose. There were so many questions to be answered. Should they call the doctor? How far gone was she? She must naturally stay with Rose, they both agreed about that. Though she was carrying his brother’s child it would not be proper for her to live at Summer Place. She must rest and be well fed. Then Harry revealed news that Rose longed to tell Alice.

He nursed the glass of whisky Rose had pressed on him and she sipped her sherry, both aware of the tension in the drawing room and when Dolly was called for, so was she. She had seen the way the two of them avoided looking at one another and her wise old mind put two and two together and came to the right conclusion. So that was the way of it! Her mind rejoiced, because Harry Summers was the man she would have chosen, had she the right, for her Rosebud.

‘Well, I think I might have the answer to all our problems, Rose, and Miss Davenport. I have telephoned a gentleman, a gentleman high in rank at the War Office and he has promised he will take all the necessary steps to get Charlie compassionate leave. For his father’s funeral and at the same time, if I apply tomorrow and obtain a special licence, for him and Alice to be married.’