The Shadow of War (24 page)

The Camerons' lieutenant salutes and leaves. When he has gone, Margaret touches Hamish's hand.

‘We nearly lost you, Hamish, and that leg is going to hurt. We can't give you much morphine – we haven't got
much – so you're going to face a lot of pain. You need a long convalescence in that castle of yours.'

Hamish's latent feelings for Margaret rise to the surface.

‘Come with me, Margaret.'

She smiles at him warmly.

‘Sorry, Hamish; it's a nice thought, but a million Germans down the road are not going to let that happen.'

Hamish then remembers the promise he made to Captain Philip Davies.

‘At least take some leave and come with me to deliver on my promise to that Welch Fusilier.'

‘I'm afraid there's no leave for me just yet. And you must go straight home; your leg is already septic, you can't go wandering off to Wales.'

‘But what about that poor girl?'

Margaret then has a thought.

‘I've been asked to go back to Britain for a month. We are desperately short of nurses and, with Lord Kitchener recruiting a new army, we're going to need even more. A few of us are going to be touring all our general hospitals in a recruitment drive. I could see if I can be given Shropshire and Herefordshire, then I could deliver the letter and key.'

‘That sounds ideal, Margaret. I think we will both feel better when we have relieved ourselves of that particular burden.'

Hamish Stewart-Murray is invalided home from Le Havre aboard the HMS
Asturias
on 21 September. While in the Channel, he writes to his father, the Duke of Atholl.

I'm afraid the reports about Geordie I have received are very scant. The lieutenant I sent off to the brigade to make inquiries came back only with hearsay. It was said that Geordie had received a wound to the head as a result of a shell exploding close to him. But he is not with his battalion and is not in any of the hospitals. Some men said
that he was alive when they last saw him and that the Germans may have taken him to their medical facilities. Officially, he is listed as wounded, but that will soon be amended to missing. I am going to stay at Eaton Square for a while and hope to be at Blair soon, when I'm sure we will have good news about Geordie.

Hamish's letter to his father is not as blunt as it might be. Before he left for the coast, he heard reports that during the retreat from their encounter with the Black Watch, the Germans had shot all the wounded Scots they found on the battlefield.

He fears Geordie may have been one of them, if he was not dead already.

Margaret Killingbeck has organized her nurse-recruiting tour of the hospitals of the West Midlands so that she can travel to Presteigne to fulfil Hamish Stewart-Murray's promise to a dying Welch Fusilier.

As her mission is somewhat delicate, she decides to make some discreet inquiries at the Duke's Arms, the town's main watering hole. She chooses her time carefully, just a few minutes after the pub's 11.00 a.m. opening time, when it has yet to welcome any customers and the landlord is tidying the bar for the day ahead.

‘Good morning, landlord. Would you have a room available for tonight, and dinner perhaps?'

‘Yes, indeed, miss. Our rooms all have fireplaces, and our bathroom has lots of hot water. As we're at the end of the season, I can let you have the room for three shillings and sixpence, including dinner.'

‘Very good, I'll take it.'

‘Your name, miss?'

‘Margaret Killingbeck.'

‘Would you like to go up now?'

‘In a moment … Perhaps you can help me with an inquiry before I do? Is there a Thomas family in the town?'

‘Well, Miss Killingbeck, this is Wales; we have a few of those.'

‘Of course! This one would have a daughter called Bronwyn, a young girl about seventeen or eighteen.'

The landlord's jovial demeanour changes dramatically.

‘Sorry, miss, can I ask why you want to know?'

‘My mother is Welsh – also a Thomas – and she thinks Bronwyn and I are cousins.'

‘Oh, I see.'

The landlord still looks at Margaret quizzically.

‘And her brothers, of course?'

Margaret suspects the landlord may be asking the question to catch her out, but she has prepared herself well.

‘I'm not sure about any brothers; we only have an old letter from many years ago, which talks about Bronwyn's birth.'

The landlord is a little more at ease following Margaret's answer.

‘I didn't mean to pry, miss, but there's been a bit of an upset in the Thomas family. There're lots of rumours about, which I shouldn't talk of. But, as far as I know, only Hywel, the oldest boy, is up at the farm. The other brothers, Geraint and Morgan, Bronwyn's twin, have joined up with Kitchener.'

‘And Bronwyn?'

‘Gone as well, miss. She was engaged to young Tom Crisp, a nice boy from the town, a carpenter. He's gone as well, but nobody knows where.'

‘Have they gone off together?'

‘I don't know. But I don't think so … not if you listen to the stories.'

‘Can you get someone to take me to the Thomas farm after lunch?'

‘Of course. Old Carwyn will take you up to Pentry in his trap.'

There is a biting westerly wind to greet Margaret when she arrives at Pentry Farm. The chill of the autumnal air is an abrupt reminder that, when she gets back to France, she will not only have the wounded and dying to deal with, she will
soon also be fighting every soldier's most bitter enemy: winter.

She asks Old Carwyn to wait for her, in the hope that a simple question to Hywel will produce a straightforward and brief answer. Despite the noisy arrival of Old Carwyn's trap and the incessant barking of the farm sheepdogs, Hywel is nowhere to be seen.

‘He'll be around somewhere, miss. Young Hywel never comes down to Presteigne no more; he'll be around.'

Then Hywel appears from behind the wood store that Tom Crisp made into a modest home for Bronwyn and himself. He looks windswept and unkempt. He has about a week's worth of stubble on his face and his clothes are covered in the detritus of his agricultural occupation. To add to his shabby appearance, his manner is abrupt, almost to the point of snarling.

‘If you're from Grundy's Solicitors, I told the last chap that I don't know where she is an' there's nothing of hers left here. So you can go back to where you came from.'

‘I'm not from a solicitor's office; I'm a nurse.'

‘So what do want here?'

‘I'm looking for your sister, Bronwyn.'

Hywel's manner changes to a less threatening demeanour.

‘Is she in hospital?'

‘No, that's not the reason for my visit …' Margaret hesitates. ‘May we go inside?'

Somewhat reluctantly, Hywel guides Margaret into Pentry's kitchen, where she is greeted with a scene of domestic chaos bordering on squalor.

‘Sorry, miss, I don't have much time to look after the place. The farm is more than enough on its own; I've no time to look after the house.'

‘That's as may be, Mr Thomas. But if I may say so, there's no excuse for a mess like this.'

‘Well, it's a good thing it's none of yer business, then!'

‘Look, I grew up on a sheep farm in Swaledale, in the North of England, so I know what it's like.'

‘Swaledale! I know all about Swaledale, half o' my flock are “Swarddlers”, as we call 'em …' He pauses and looks Margaret up and down. ‘You're dressed up good and proper for a farmer's daughter, aren't yer?'

‘I'm not a farmer's daughter any more; I'm a nursing sister with the army in France.'

‘So what brings you to Presteigne an' asking after Bron?'

‘I have a couple of things that belongs to her.'

‘Well, you can leave them with me.'

‘No, I can't, Mr Thomas; they belong to her.'

A sneer of a smile breaks across Hywel's face.

‘Don't suppose this 'as something to do with a certain officer in the Welch Fusiliers, do it?'

Margaret is dismayed by Hywel's question and is not sure what to say.

‘Would you like me to help you clean this place up a bit? I can tell Old Carwyn to come back later.'

‘No, thanks, I'd rather know what it is yer 'ave for Bron.'

Margaret takes a deep breath and makes a decision. She walks outside and asks Old Carwyn to come back at six thirty. When she returns, she takes off her coat and rolls up her sleeves.

‘Let's talk while we sort this mess out.'

‘Suit yourself.'

Hywel watches as Margaret begins to bring her nurse's training and military discipline to Pentry Farm's kitchen.

‘Mr Thomas, if you will tell me what's happened, I will tell you the circumstances that brought me here.'

Hywel spends some time thinking about how to respond. Eventually, he begins to help with the clearing up. His tone becomes less hostile.

‘What 'ave you heard in town, miss?'

‘Please call me Margaret. I've heard nothing, other than the Thomas family has had a bit of upset and there are lots of rumours around.'

‘Well, we've certainly had an “upset” and there're lots o' rumours. Sorry to say, most of 'em are true.'

Hywel sighs, a prolonged sigh of despair, then turns to Margaret and tries to summon a smile.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?'

‘Only if I make it and wash up the mugs myself!'

Margaret's mockery does make Hywel smile. As she makes the tea, he carries on with the chores and begins his account of recent times at Pentry.

‘I knew for a while that Bron wasn't very 'appy and things weren't right with Tom, her fiancé. He lived 'ere with her an' was a good friend to me an' the boys – one of the family, really. We'd all 'ad a big setback when an offer to buy the farm fell through because the buyer died suddenly. The whole thing caused a big rift between us, an' I thought that was what the problem was with Bron.'

‘You'll have to drink your tea black, Hywel; I can't find any milk.'

‘I know, I've had to sell our cow.'

The misery of his situation is borne out by the look of utter wretchedness on his face. Hywel then continues his story.

‘So, that was back at the end o' July. Bron 'ad been doin' some cleanin' for Philip Davies for a few weeks, to make ends meet. He was a local bigwig an' a proper gent, or so we thought. When war broke out, that brought more problems. Davies went off with the Welch Fusiliers. Not many even knew he was a territorial. One day he was 'ere, next day he was gone.

‘Bron became very moody; she and Tom rowed all the time. I don't know whether Tom twigged anythin' – I certainly didn't – but about four weeks ago, Clara Davies, Philip's
wife, gets a telegram telling 'er that he's been killed in France. She's a funny woman to begin with, but she goes mad. She comes up 'ere shoutin' and screamin' at Bron, accusin' 'er of havin' an affair with Philip, and starts throwing all these drawings all over the farmyard. Filthy stuff that Davies apparently used to sell on the quiet. She kept shoutin' over an' over again, “I know what you've been up to with these drawings, you little whore. You're not the first, you know!” '

Hywel's eyes begin to redden as he fights back tears. Margaret watches as he struggles to control himself.

‘Clara then shouts, “Now he's dead! So your disgusting little games will never happen again.” Bron doesn't say anythin' at first – she's stunned, like – but then she bursts into a fit of screaming. Tom appears, wantin' to know what all the noise is about. He tries to comfort Bron but she pushes him away, shoutin', “No! No! Dear God, no!”

‘So he gets angry with her. She starts on at him, tellin' him to leave her alone. It's obvious to him that something has gone on with Davies, and he starts shakin' Bron. I 'ave to pull him off her. Then Clara says she knows all about a bank account that Davies has been puttin' money into for her. It was 'orrible' – Hywel throws his head back in anguish – ‘like the whole world was fallin' apart.

‘Even though she was still carryin' on, I made Clara's driver take her back home. By the time I'd finished, Tom was already runnin' down the road to Presteigne. Bron took about ten minutes to collect a few things before she was off 'erself. She went the other way, towards Llandrindod Wells.'

‘Didn't you go after her?'

‘No, I should 'ave done … but, to tell you the honest truth, I was disgusted. She was my little sister and he was a middle-aged man!'

‘She's still your sister.'

‘Is she? If she is, I don't know her. I've burned those
drawings; no one should be allowed to see things like that. I can't sleep for thinkin' about her and him. It makes me sick.'

Margaret sits down next to Hywel and puts her hand on his arm.

‘I'm really sorry, Hywel. I can't begin to explain or excuse what happened between them, but don't cast her out.'

‘I didn't, she went of her own accord. And what about Tom? He's my best friend.'

‘I know, it's an awful situation. But Bronwyn will need help. She's gone through hell as well.'

‘Serves 'er right. She's a slut; there's the truth of it. No decent girl would do what she got up to with Davies. Tom's disappeared. Geraint and Morgan 'ave had to leave the town and 'ave gone to join up. They'll probably get killed in the war. I'm left to try an' hold this place together. I 'ave to go into Knighton to get what I need, because I'm too embarrassed to show my face in Presteigne.'

‘I'm so sorry for all that has happened. But I have to ask if you have any idea where she is?'

‘No, I don't, and I don't want to know.'

‘Hywel, she'll need help, believe me! If you think you're going through hell, she will be feeling just the same – if not worse. Only another woman can understand what she's going through. If you know anything, please tell me.'

Hywel relents.

‘Clara Davies 'as got the solicitors on to me. She's after the money Davies was sending Bron. It's not really the money, of course – she's got plenty o' that – she just wants revenge. The solicitor's man said Bron's been seen in Cardiff, in Tiger Bay, working the pubs.'

‘As a barmaid?'

Hywel looks at Margaret with a laconic smile, then spits out an answer.

‘No, Margaret, she's a “floozie”, a “good-time girl” – whatever name you want to put on it. My little sister is a whore to sailors and drunks and anybody else with two bob in his pocket!'

Margaret shudders in disbelief.

‘I must find her.'

‘Don't bother! If that's how far she's sunk, there's no way back. Tiger Bay is a hell on earth.'

‘I'm going to find her. If I do, will you take her back?'

Hywel takes a long time to answer. But when he does, it is with a chilling finality.

‘No.'

Margaret gets up to leave.

‘Aren't you forgetting your side of the bargain?'

‘There's not much to say. Captain Philip Davies died in my arms from his wounds. He was brought to me in Bavay, a small town in France, about the same size as Presteigne. He was a brave man and, if it's of any comfort, he loved your sister. I was with an officer from the Cameron Highlanders and Philip asked him if he would give your sister a letter and a small memento when he was next on leave. The Camerons' officer has picked up a wound himself and has been sent home to Scotland, which is why I'm here.'

Hywel walks over to the window and looks out over the farm.

‘I'm glad he's dead. Because I'd decided that, when he came home, I'd put a pitchfork through his guts.'

Margaret looks at Hywel and has not the slightest doubt that he means what he said. Hywel turns to look at Margaret.

‘All of a sudden, prices are going up because of the war. I was thinking of letting the farm to one of our neighbours and joining my brothers with the Welch. What's it like out there?'

‘Stay here, Hywel; it's a slaughterhouse.'

‘Sounds about right to me. I'd rather die a quick death for
King and country out there than die a slow one here, wallowing in my own shit.'

‘Don't imagine they're all quick deaths; many are not. Stay in Wales.'