The Back of Beyond (23 page)

He stamped upstairs, threw off his clothes and was asleep in minutes …

Gwen looked imploringly at her sister. ‘D'you think he was with her all the time?'

Marge screwed her mouth to one side. ‘Um, no, I shouldn't think so. He's had a few too many by the look of him, so maybe he doesn't like being questioned.'

‘But if he's nothing to hide …'

Marge regretted ever having voiced her own suspicions. ‘He'll feel guilty for drinking so much. He'll probably tell you in the morning, but if he doesn't, just let it drop.'

Even after resolving to take Marge's advice and not question her husband, the first thing Gwen did when he opened his eyes the following day was ask, ‘Were you with Lexie Fraser all the time you were out last night?'

‘Oh, Gwen,' he groaned, gathering her into his arms, ‘my darling, darling Gwennie, I was only with her for … not much more than five minutes. Look, I'll be perfectly honest with you. I've known her all my life, I like her quite a lot, but I do – not – love her! I wouldn't have seen her at all if I hadn't needed fags.'

They were just reaching the point when passion would no longer be denied, when their son barged in. ‘Oh!' he exclaimed in disgust. ‘Do you two never get tired kissing?'

Trying to control his laboured breathing, Alistair managed to laugh, ‘No, and we never will.'

‘Well, you'd better stop now, for Auntie Marge says you'll need all your time if you don't come down for breakfast right now.'

There was something of a scramble until they were all seated round the table having breakfast. ‘How long will it be before your next leave?' David asked, his mouth full of toast.

A silence fell now, an electrifying silence during which even David didn't speak, then Alistair laid his hand over his wife's. ‘I'm sorry, darling,' he murmured, looking deep into her eyes, ‘I shouldn't have left this till the last minute, I meant to tell you last night, but … things happened. I've been on embarkation leave, we're being sent overseas when I go back, so it could be long enough before I get home again.'

It was left to Marge to dam the hole in the dyke. ‘They'll be needing reinforcements somewhere,' she told David, ‘and your Dad has to go where he's told.'

‘Where, Dad?' the words were croaked, as the boy took his cuff across his eyes.

‘I don't know yet, son. It could be anywhere – Far East, Middle East …'

‘Near East?' Marge was trying to make a joke.

‘Anywhere.' Alistair got to his feet and pulled Gwen off her chair, too. ‘Give me a hand to fasten my bags.' He took time to hug his son and daughter before he turned away with moist eyes, and Marge cleared the obstruction in her throat in order to reassure the children. ‘He'll be fine, don't worry, my pets. He won't have to fight Germans wherever he's going, that's good, isn't it?'.

She managed to shoo them off to school – David crowing ‘Wait till the boys at school hear my Dad's going overseas!' – and sat down with another cup of tea. Only a few minutes later, Alistair and his wife came downstairs, Gwen's eyes red from weeping.

‘I hope you're pleased at what you've done, Alistair Ritchie!' Marge couldn't help herself. ‘Fancy waiting till the very last minute before you told your wife and kids you're on embarkation leave. Can't you see how hurt she is?'

Gwen shook her head. ‘I'm all right, Marge. He's explained why he didn't tell me before, and it was my own fault that he didn't say anything last night.' She slid her arm through her husband's. ‘I'll walk to the road with you, Alistair.'

‘You'll have to put a step in, then.' Marge stood up and kissed her brother-in-law's cheek. ‘I'm sorry, Alistair, I'd no right to say …'

‘You have every right, Marge, and I'll regret being so stupid to my dying …'

‘No!' Gwen burst out. ‘There's no need for regrets. We had a wonderful time while you've been home. Don't let's spoil it now.'

‘Well, 'bye, Alistair,' Marge murmured, ‘and God bless.'

When Gwen returned, her face ravaged by tears, Marge said, sympathetically, ‘I know how you must be feeling. I'd never speak to Dougal again if he did that to me.'

‘I was the one who made him go out last night,' Gwen reminded her, ‘and I shouldn't have said anything when he came home. It was asking for trouble when I could see he'd had too much to drink.'

‘I suppose he told his friends he was being sent overseas,' Marge offered, ‘and they'd been dishing out the booze to him.'

Gwen nodded. ‘Yes, that's what he said.' Squaring her shoulders, she added, ‘He told Lexie, too.'

‘Before he told you?' Marge was outraged.

‘He said it didn't matter to him. I mean, he wasn't worried about telling her. She was just a friend, like the men in the bar, but I'm his wife, and he didn't want to spoil our time together. There's nothing between them, Marge, it's just me he loves.'

‘Of course it is.'

Not quite believing her own assurance, Marge wasn't surprised at Lexie's first remark when she went to the shop that afternoon. ‘Did Alistair get away all right this morning?' Receiving only a slight nod in answer, she went on, ‘He wasn't looking forward to telling his wife, you know. I nearly said he wasn't being fair to her, but it wasn't really any of my business.'

‘No,' agreed Marge, tersely, ‘it's not any of your business.'

‘Listen, Mrs Finnie, you know Alistair and me were … well, I looked on him as my boyfriend but he didn't feel the same way about me. So if you and your sister think there's still a spark of something between us, there never was … not on his side anyway.' She smiled brightly. ‘And only friendship on my side now, as well.'

There was something about the woman that got through to Marge at this point. She had heard the gossip about her looking for a lad at the dances, although she didn't seem to have succeeded, but she was positive that it wasn't because of Alistair. Whatever Lexie had felt for him at one time, and perhaps for years after he left Forvit, there was only friendship now, perhaps slightly more … affection? Certainly not love.

Marge related the conversation and her conclusion to Gwen when she returned to Benview, and her sister's spirits were raised even more when she received Alistair's letter two days later, penned as soon as he returned to his base.

Your ever loving husband,

Alistair. XXX

Gwen handed the epistle to Marge, who gave it a cursory read then said, ‘Well, I think you can take it that he loves you.' She regarded her sister with twinkling eyes. ‘How was it between you two the rest of the time he was here?'

‘Perfect,' Gwen sighed, ‘but I wonder if we should …'

‘If you're going to say we should stop inviting Ken when he gets back, put it out of your mind. He's as straight as that broom handle and he's got no designs on either of us. Being part of our family reminds him of his own, I suppose, and we can't deny him that. Maybe we should have told Alistair about him while he was at home, but there's no sense telling him now, not when he'll soon be in the heart of the fighting. It would just worry him. You know, my Dougal's been saying in his letters for ages that he's fed up still being on this side of the Channel. I ask you! After what he went through at Dunkirk! Funny creatures, men, aren't they?'

On Saturday morning, David asked when Ken would come to see them again. ‘They haven't found out he was coming here before, have they, and punished him for it?'

It took both his mother and his aunt a second or two to realize what he meant, then Marge said, ‘No, no, nobody found out. He's on leave, like your Dad was, and he's gone home to see his own family.'

‘I love my Dad,' David stated, with a touch of embarrassment, ‘but I miss Uncle Ken, and all. We can speak about him now, can't we?'

‘Not to anybody outside this house,' Marge cautioned. ‘You never know, one of your school friends might tell his mother, and she'd tell somebody else, and it could easily get back to Ardley.'

‘OK!' David gave an exaggerated salute before picking up the bag containing his football strip. ‘I'll keep my mouth buttoned up, and so'll Leila. You can depend on us. You coming, then, Lei?'

His mother and aunt couldn't help laughing when the two children went out. David's words and actions came as a result of reading the
Wizard
and the other comic strip magazines for boys which he and his chums circulated amongst them. ‘I hope we're not being stupid,' observed Gwen in a moment. ‘Encouraging them to tell lies.'

Marge cocked one eyebrow. ‘It's not lies, just … well, a way of saving trouble, really, though we're not doing anything wrong. You're not thinking of being unfaithful to Alistair are you?'

‘I should think not!' Gwen was horrified at the very idea.

‘If you ever do, let me know,' laughed Marge, ‘so I can be on the lookout for someone, too. I don't want to miss out on any fun.'

Chapter 17

‘I hope Uncle Ken remembered to buy me a cricket bat.'

Gwen shook her head reprovingly at her son. ‘He gives you far too much, Leila too, and don't ask him about it. It's not manners to ask for presents.'

‘I didn't ask,' David protested, bright blue eyes flashing indignantly. ‘It was him promised to get one so he could teach me how to play proper cricket.'

‘If he promised, he'll likely have it, but if he's forgotten, don't get in a paddy.'

The boy looked hurt now. ‘I never get in a paddy … only when Leila makes fun of me, her and her chums. That Kirsty Droopy-Drawers …'

‘That's enough, David! Her name's Kirsty Kelman, and it's no wonder the girls tease you if that's the kind of things you say about them.' Becoming aware that her sister was chuckling in the background, she snapped, ‘It's not funny, Marge! He's getting worse and he'll have to learn some manners, else people will think I can't control my children.'

‘Calm down, Gwennie, he's just a kid, but …' Marge gave her nephew a poke in the ribs, ‘… you
will
have to learn how to behave, David. You don't want to make your Dad ashamed of you, do you? He wants to come home to a boy people respect.'

His head drooped. ‘I'm sorry, and I won't say anything to Uncle Ken if he hasn't got a bat … but Auntie Marge, is it OK if I ask him when we'll be playing cricket?'

She had to turn her head away to hide a smile, but Gwen heaved a lengthy sigh of exasperation, ‘David Ritchie! Don't you dare mention cricket!'

Keeping her face straight with something of a struggle, Marge coaxed, ‘Why don't you come outside, my boy, and help me tidy up the tool shed. It'll be something for you to do till Uncle Ken comes, and keep you out of your Mum's way.'

‘This isn't his weekend on duty, is it? I don't like the Saturdays he can't come.'

David was still chattering when the back door closed behind them, leaving Gwen wondering what would happen when Ken Partridge was posted away from Ardley Camp, as was bound to happen sooner or later. He had been spending three Saturdays out of every four with them for almost a year now, and she had an uneasy feeling that David had begun to regard him as a father-figure. It wasn't surprising, really, when his real father wasn't there to guide him through his formative years. And Ken was so good with him and Leila, giving them the affection and attention he should be giving his own children. It was a terrible world, she reflected morosely, when families were kept apart like this.

She dabbed away an unwelcome tear that had edged out. She mustn't let herself wallow in misery, even though her sadness wasn't just for her own family and Ken's, it was for families everywhere. There must be hundreds, thousands, of wives praying every night for the safe return of their husbands, quaking every time someone came to the door in case it was a telegraph boy bearing the news they dreaded.

‘Are you all right, Mum?'

Her daughter's concerned voice shook Gwen out of her reverie. ‘Yes, dear, I'm fine. I was just feeling a bit sad, missing your Dad.'

‘I miss Dad, too, but Uncle Ken won't be long now and he'll cheer us all up …' Leila paused thoughtfully, then went on, ‘… though he must be missing his wife and children, too. Hardly any of my friends at school have Dads at home. Most of them are in the army, and there's a few in the RAF, but there's only one in the Navy. Why's that?'

‘Probably because Forvit is nowhere near the sea. The men haven't got the sea in their blood like people from towns and villages on the coast.'

‘It must be ever so dangerous on the sea, and up in the air,' Leila observed. ‘I'm glad my Dad's a soldier on dry land.'

Gwen was only glad the girl hadn't realized that her father was in just as much danger on land as in the sky or on the waves. She was better not having that worry.

The shrilling of a bicycle bell made Leila jump up in excitement. ‘That'll be Uncle Ken,' she cried, rushing to the door.

Gwen's heart contracted when she saw how the man scooped her daughter up in his arms. He was always so attentive to the children, showing more affection than Alistair, a reserved Scotsman, had ever done, yet she wished that it was he who had just come in.

‘How are things, Gwen, girl?' Ken was standing looking down at her anxiously.

‘Fine.' Even to herself her reply sounded listlessly insincere, and she tried to correct the impression she must be giving. ‘I
am
fine. Just a bit down, thinking of Alistair.'

‘Have you heard from him lately?'

‘It's been nearly five weeks.'

‘Given the state of the army postal service,' he smiled, ‘that's not too bad. You'll get a whole bunch at once, no doubt.'

The door banged open as David burst in. ‘I knew you were here, Uncle Ken! I saw your bike outside.'

‘Did you take a good look at it?'

‘No. Why? Should I have?'

‘It might be a good idea.'

David whipped round and scampered out, almost knocking Marge off her feet as she came in. ‘Where's the fire?' she gasped, but he didn't hear.

In less than a minute, he was back, grinning from ear to ear and brandishing a shiny cricket bat and a set of stumps. ‘You did remember!' he crowed.

‘Manners,' Gwen prompted.

‘Thanks, Uncle Ken, thank you, thank you, thank you. I knew you wouldn't forget.'

With David on heckle pins at his side, Ken took time to drink the cup of tea he'd been given before he got to his feet. ‘Well, I guess now's as good a time as any, David. Have you got a cricket ball to practise with?'

‘Won't the sponge ball do?'

Ken put his hand in his trouser pocket and drew out a brand new cricket ball. ‘I think we should keep this for a while yet, though. It's a bit too hard, and we don't want you breaking any windows. We'd better use the sponge ball till you've had some practice.' He still didn't move, however, but extricated a small package from his other pocket and handed it to the girl with a flourish usually executed by conjurers. ‘Can't give to one and not the other, can I, Leila?'

‘You shouldn't give either of them anything,' Gwen admonished him.

‘I want to,' he said, simply, thus putting an end to her protestations.

‘Oh, gosh, Uncle Ken!' Leila held up a little brooch in the shape of her name for them all to see. ‘It's lovely! Thank you ever so, ever so much.'

‘It's made of gold wire, and the boys are all making them for their daughters.' Gwen's frown made him smile broadly. ‘I made one for my own daughter first, then I thought Leila might like one, too.'

‘It's very kind of you.'

His ruddy face even redder than usual, he cleared his throat. ‘Right, then! Who wants to come and field for us?'

They all trooped out, Leila proudly sporting her ‘identity' brooch, and each one participated in the fun game until Gwen said she should go in to organize tea, and Marge and Leila offered to help. So now Ken was free to give young David some lessons on holding the bat, how to stand properly, how to keep his eye on the ball – the serious business of coaching. He called a halt when the picnic meal was carried out by the ‘three ladies' as he called them, making Leila straighten her back proudly and Gwen glance at him in gratitude. It was a beautiful day, exceptionally warm even for September, so they lingered over their makeshift meal, taken on the ‘drying-green', the only spot in the whole garden not given over to growing vegetables.

Looking around him with satisfaction, Ken suddenly said, ‘Fetch the camera, David. I'd like to have some reminders of this day.'

The boy dashed off and returned with the box Brownie Ken had given him a few weeks earlier. ‘It's showing eight,' he said, seriously, ‘so that means there's still four left to take.'

Ken unwound his long legs and rose to his feet. ‘Sit down so I can get you all in.' He waited until they arranged themselves as Marge considered best, then pressed the catch. ‘You all look too posed,' he laughed. ‘Can't you pretend to be doing something, so it'll look more natural?'

David flung his arm round his sister's neck as if he were about to strangle her, and Marge lolled drunkenly against Gwen. ‘How's that?' she asked, grinning.

‘That's better.' Ken took another snap, then handed the camera to her. ‘Take one of me and the kids. I'd like to have a keepsake of them.'

‘There's still one left,' she smiled, after taking him capering with the two children.

David ran over. ‘Let me take the last one, Auntie Marge. Uncle Ken, get in the middle between her and Mum. No, that looks too stiff …'

Ken obliged by putting his arms round the women, and David pressed the button while his mother and aunt were still laughing. ‘That should be a good one,' he crowed.

‘I'd better go inside the shed to take the film out.' Ken held out his hand for the camera. ‘The photos'll be spoiled if any light gets in.'

David went with him. ‘I want to see how to take the spool out,' he told his mother, who had frowned at him for dogging the man's footsteps.

A few minutes later, when they rejoined the others, Ken said, ‘I'm being sent to London on a two-week course next Thursday, so I'll get it developed and printed there. In fact, I'll get two sets, one for myself as well, but you'll have to wait till I get back, David, before you can see them, I'm afraid.'

David looked crestfallen. ‘That'll be three weeks, won't it?'

‘It'll soon pass, and anyway, you'll have your Uncle Dougal for most of the time.'

‘I'd nearly forgot about that.' The boy perked up again. ‘Can we have another game now? Mum will want to clear up, so Leila and Auntie Marge can …'

‘Hold your horses, David, my lad.' Marge got stiffly to her feet. ‘I'm not doing any more running after that ball. I'm going to help your Mum.'

They all shared in the clearing up, then the two ladies were left in the kitchen to do the washing-up while the other three went back outside. After a few moments of silence, Marge said, reflectively, ‘It's funny Ken having to go on a course just now, isn't it?'

Gwen looked up in puzzlement. ‘What d'you mean?'

‘I think he's volunteered to go. It's a year and a half since he first came here, and he always stays away when Dougal's on leave. Always some excuse.'

‘But he can't plan things like that. He's got to go where he's told … when he's told. Anyway, I never asked him not to come while Dougal was here.'

‘Neither did I,' Marge said, sharply. ‘I'd have been quite happy for them to meet. I'm sure they'd like each other … Alistair, too.'

‘I wish he would write more often.'

‘He's fighting a war, remember, not having a holiday by the Mediterranean. He hasn't got time to write to you every other day.'

‘I know that, but …' Gwen tailed off, forlornly.

‘Getting back to Ken, I don't understand why you want him kept secret. He's only a friend, after all, and he's been jolly good with the kids.'

Not quite sure why herself, Gwen floundered a little before saying, ‘I've the feeling Alistair would be hurt if he knew … because he can't be here to give them presents or play games with them. It's almost as if they look on Ken as their father, and that's …'

‘Yes, but when Ken's posted away, they'll soon forget him and look forward to their real Dad coming home …'

Another few moments elapsed before Gwen murmured, ‘I don't know how David's going to take it when Ken does have to leave Ardley. He dotes on him.'

‘He'll cope. He was all right when Alistair went away, wasn't he? Now, can I go, or are you going to make me wait half an hour before you hand over that plate you're trying to scrub the pattern off?'

The last plate duly dried, everything tidied away, the sisters went to join the others, who, exhausted now, were sprawled out on the grass. The women sat down beside them, letting the newly-sprung cool breeze help them to recover from their exertions and ruffled emotions.

At nine o'clock, the usual hour for the children's bedtime on Saturdays, Marge said, ‘I'll see these two settled, Gwen, then I think I'll go to bed myself. I've got a blinder of a headache with sitting in the sun too long, but it's too good a night to be cooped up inside. Why don't you two go for a walk?'

Ken beamed at her. ‘I'd love to. What about it, Gwen?'

She cast a glance of appeal at her sister, who interpreted it correctly and gave her the push she needed. ‘Go on, Gwennie, it'll do you good and nobody'll see you.'

‘Even suppose someone did see us,' Ken remarked as they strolled up the track a few minutes later, ‘we're doing nothing wrong, are we?'

‘We know that,' she murmured, ‘but other people wouldn't.'

‘Forget about other people. Why can't you just relax and enjoy the walk? I've always felt easy in your company, though I know you took quite a while to feel completely at ease with me. I can assure you I've no intention of doing anything out of place, I respect you far too much, and I know you miss Alistair as much as I miss Rhoda. A man and a woman
can
have a close platonic relationship, Gwen. They can feel affection, even love in a kind of way, without anything … physical, if you get my meaning.'

She got his meaning, and the thought of what
could
happen made her nervous, but Ken was a decent man, and Marge must trust him, otherwise she wouldn't have suggested them taking this walk. Besides, Alistair couldn't object if he knew how innocent it was.

Because it wasn't too far, they made for the tower, and while they stood looking down on the panorama spread out below them, and across at the snow-capped mountains in the distance, she thought of all the men and girls who must have stood there over the years, had perhaps consummated their love there, and gave an involuntary shiver.