A Crimson Dawn (21 page)

Emmie puzzled. ‘Barny's your son - he could never love anyone like his daddy. Why should you be jealous of Rab?'

Tom gazed at her for a long time before answering. "Cos of the regard you have for him - have always had. Remember that time you told me in the woods how Rab was your favourite MacRae? I've never forgotten that, Emmie.'

Emmie went hot with embarrassment. ‘I was just a bairn - and the question wasn't fair. I just said owt to get me ribbon back.'

Tom drew her hand up to his lips and kissed it. ‘Me sister tells me I'm too hard on you - too possessive. But it's ‘cos I love you. Can't bear the thought of you being with any other lad - even if it's just for a bit crack. It's just the way I am, lass.' He squeezed her hand. ‘Tell me I'm being daft and that there's nowt ganin' on between you and Radical Rab.'

Emmie's heartbeat was drumming in her ears. She thought guiltily of the times she had spent at Mannie's place working, chatting, laughing and arguing with Rab. But even if she had wanted more from Rab, he would not have given it. To him, she was the same young Emmie he had grown up with; teased, played with, protected and ignored. He had up and left Crawdene and her for over two years. There had been a music teacher in Glasgow for whom he still grieved, she was sure of that.

Emmie tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. ‘If you mean, is there more than childhood friendship between me and Rab, then no, there's nowt ganin' on - never will be.'

Tom let out a sigh and pulled her towards him. He kissed her on the lips.

‘You make me that happy, lass, you and Barny,' he smiled. ‘I never want to lose you. Don't know what I'd do if—'

‘Don't talk daft.' Emmie silenced him with a kiss back. She felt differently towards him when he was tender and loving like this, like the old Tom of their courting days. She knew that the other Tom, who bossed her around in front of others, was all about impressing his father and his marras that he was a firm husband and a true Curran.

Through the night, she held on to the Tom that she loved. This was the man she had chosen and the one she had to make her life with, whatever happened in the future.

It was two days later that the news reached the village. Britain was at war with Germany and her allies.

Flora worried about Charles. He worked tirelessly, a lone voice preaching against the war in a town that was filling up with men in uniform and Union flags. So many had flocked to the recruiting stations, hastily set up in halls and hotels, that they were issued with armbands to show they had volunteered until enough uniforms could be provided. During those first feverish days of patriotism, mobs of young men smashed the windows of German pork butchers and grocers, baying for them to come out while their families cowered in upstairs rooms.

Alerted by one of the dockers, Charles rushed round late at night to the Werners' in Olive Street to find their delicatessen a sea of glass and their stock raided. Mrs Werner, a Durham woman, was calming her children while her bewildered husband stood among the debris.

‘But they are my customers,' he said, throwing his arms wide with incomprehension, ‘my neighbours. Why do they do this?'

Charles could offer no reason to the grocer who sang in the Settlement choir every Sunday. His children came to the Sunday school. Every year, the Werners donated the ingredients for the Christmas pudding and sweets for the poorest families. All Charles could do was help them clear up the mess and offer a bed for the night in case the mob returned.

Flora organised bedding and gave Mrs Werner a sedative to help her sleep, but the tearful children kept them all awake. After a couple of days in hiding, the Werners returned to their home, but few people dared to be seen going into the German's shop and business rapidly dwindled. A week later, Mr Werner was detained as an enemy alien. His frightened wife boarded up the shop and fled with her family to cousins in Durham.

While student helpers at the Settlement enlisted and left, Charles drove himself to work ever harder. The docks teemed with shipping and their soup kitchen was overrun with an influx of merchant seamen and migrant workers. As well as her medical work, Flora was preoccupied with helping families left to cope without money by their wage earners abruptly joining up.

Amid all the dislocation, Flora received a despairing letter from Frau Bauer. She rushed to find Charles.

‘Maria's been arrested in London!' she gasped, waving the letter at him. ‘They're threatening to deport her or keep her in prison.'

Charles took the letter and read it, his face grim. ‘Dear God . . .'

‘Can't they tell the difference between a spy and a respected academic?' Flora blazed. ‘She's an Anglophile, for goodness' sake! Spends as much time here as in Germany. Maria has nothing to do with this ridiculous escapade - quite the opposite. Can't they use their common sense?'

Charles sighed. ‘Common sense was the first casualty of this war, as far as I can see.'

‘We must do something.' Flora grew more agitated. ‘They can't just throw her out of the country. There's no guarantee she'd get safely back to Munich - she could be blown up at sea or attacked on the road—'

‘We'll send a telegram right away,' Charles reassured, rushing to hold his wife. She hugged him, wishing they could awaken from the deepening nightmare.

They wrote letters to officials, trying to find out more about Maria Bauer's case, and sent a friend from Toynbee House, a settlement in London's East End, to visit Maria and take her food and clothing.

Then an unexpected summons came to Charles from Blackton Heights.

‘My father wishes to see me,' he told Flora, tugging nervously at his wavy hair.

Flora was impatient. ‘To tell you off for speaking at the Blackton rally, no doubt. Don't go.'

Charles shook his head. ‘No, it's about Sophie.'

‘Is anything wrong?' Flora asked quickly. Charles shrugged. Flora said at once, ‘I'll come with you.'

They made hasty arrangements to visit the Heights the following day, borrowing the Runcies' pony and trap. Flora felt guilty that they had seen nothing of Charles's sister for months, only reading about her suffragette protests and letters in the daily newspapers. Perhaps her health was suffering from overwork.

But when they arrived at Blackton Heights, Sophie came bounding out to meet them, flushed with excitement.

‘It's so good to see you!' she cried, almost pulling Charles from the carriage.

He beamed in relief. ‘We thought something awful had happened—'

‘No, silly,' Sophie laughed. ‘Didn't Papa tell you? Oh, come on. We're all on the terrace - even Mama - the weather's so glorious.' She kissed Flora warmly. ‘I'm glad you both came.'

Charles and Flora exchanged encouraging glances as they handed over the trap to the footman and followed Sophie round the side of the ivy-covered mansion. Flora's heart sank to see the Hauxleys seated around the tea table. The MP and his son had already organised local recruitment drives with military bands around the area, and she part-blamed their jingoistic appeals for the ugly attacks in Gateshead. Arthur Hauxley was sitting in his captain's uniform. He rose to greet Charles.

Charles kissed his mother and shook hands with his father and neighbours.

‘Well, tell him,' the major ordered, before the pleasantries were over.

Sophie smiled and went to stand by Arthur. To Flora's surprise, she slipped an arm through his and announced, ‘We're engaged to be married. Arthur proposed the day after war was declared - and I accepted.'

Charles and Flora stared at them in astonishment. Charles managed to stutter, ‘That's wonderful. Congratulations.' He shook Arthur's hand again.

Arthur beamed. ‘Never thought she'd say yes.'

‘We want to marry straight away,' Sophie declared, ‘before Arthur has to leave.'

‘September,' Arthur added.

‘Just a small do for family,' Sophie insisted.

‘Small do be damned,' the major laughed. ‘My only daughter finally sees sense and marries an officer of my old regiment - we'll invite the whole county!'

‘No, we won't, Papa.' Sophie was firm. ‘I'll not have us squandering the harvest in such a time of national need. Arthur and I want a service in Ongarfield and a small luncheon here.'

‘With a guard of honour,' Arthur added.

The major eyed his son. ‘So if you can drag yourself away from that mission for a few hours, your sister and mother will be very happy.'

‘Of course,' Charles agreed.

‘And, Charles,' Arthur looked bashful, ‘I'd like you to be my best man. Would you consider…'

‘I'd be delighted,' he said at once.

His father grunted. ‘Course, Liddon would've done the job if he'd lived.'

There was a moment of awkwardness around the table, then Reginald Hauxley spoke. ‘That's all settled. Charles, come and tell me what's happening at the Settlement. Are you winding it up for the duration of the war?'

Charles gave him a startled look. ‘Good heavens, no. There's more need than ever.'

‘Charles is rushed off his feet,' Flora explained supportively, ‘especially as many of the volunteers have left to join up.'

‘Good for them,' Sophie enthused. ‘I think it's marvellous the way everyone's rallying round to defend our country.'

Flora looked at her in dismay, but Charles replied, ‘If that's what their conscience tells them to do, I certainly wouldn't stop them.'

‘And what about joining them?' his father asked.

Sophie cried, ‘Yes, Charles, you could go as a padre - you and Arthur together in this great crusade. Wouldn't that be a noble thing to do?'

Charles's mother cut in quietly, ‘Your brother can be just as effective offering up prayers at home.'

‘Nonsense.' The major was dismissive. ‘Sophie's right. Actions are more effective than words when it comes to war.'

Flora could keep silent no longer. ‘But words can be more effective in bringing peace and restoring sanity. I'm astonished, Sophie, that you can want your brother rushing off to war, knowing his pacifist views.'

‘It's all very well preaching peace and harmony when there's no threat,' Sophie bristled, ‘but when our nation is under attack from evil hordes, then the only honourable course is to fight.'

‘Well said!' the major crowed.

‘And the women?' Flora questioned. ‘What are we to do in your great crusade?'

‘We must support our men to the hilt,' Sophie declared. ‘I wish I could go and fight but I can't, so I'll do my best to encourage others to go - and for women to volunteer to do the jobs left by the men. We can serve in other ways.'

Flora held on to her temper. ‘So women are to be subordinate once more? We are to accept this war that the diplomats have led us into - that women have had no say in - without a murmur?'

‘Yes,' Sophie snapped. ‘If we give ourselves wholly to the nation in this time of peril, we'll win the right to political freedom.'

‘We don't need a war to prove that right,' Flora cried in exasperation.

The major thumped the table. ‘That's enough,' he bellowed. ‘I'll not have you spoiling my daughter's betrothal tea party. I'm proud to be welcoming a son-in-law who will be defending his country in a few short weeks. I hope, Charles,' he said with a frown, ‘that the least you can do is preach for national unity at such a time - and for victory.'

Charles looked at his wife's scarlet face under her red hair, her blue eyes furious.

‘I shall pray for Arthur and his comrades - and for Sophie and the other families left behind. And I shall preach for victory as I do every Sunday,' he said quietly, ‘victory for the Prince of Peace.'

The tea party was strained and the Hauxleys left soon afterwards. The major retired to his study in a foul mood, and Charles helped his mother upstairs. Flora tried to make amends with Sophie, taking her by the arm and suggesting a stroll around the grounds before they left.

‘I'm sorry for arguing,' she said contritely. ‘I didn't mean to spoil things. All this has come as a bit of a shock - the engagement, your conversion to a warrior,' she teased gently.

Sophie was defensive. ‘Suffragettes have always been warriors. The Pankhursts were the first to call a truce with the Government and tell us to get behind the war effort.'

Flora pointed out, ‘We don't all have to do what Mrs Pankhurst says. There are many women who are speaking out against the war - as mothers, as socialists, as pacifists.'

Sophie pulled away from her, but they walked on in silence. Flora tried again.

‘You are a brave and intelligent woman, and you have every right to hold the opinions that you do. But so does Charles. It's bad enough that his father ridicules him so openly - he relies on the support of his dear sister. Can't you at least do that?'

Sophie stopped and fixed her with a direct look. ‘I've always stuck up for Charles. But I reserve the right to tell him if I think he's making the wrong decision.'

Flora held her look. ‘And you, Sophie, have you made the right decision?'

‘About what?'

‘Marrying Arthur,' Flora said softly. ‘You've always resisted parental pressure before.'

Sophie coloured. ‘This is no one's choice but mine.'

‘Do you love him?' Flora asked.

Sophie looked away. ‘I'm fond of him, and we'll make a success of it.'

‘You're not just feeling sorry for him because he's been called up?' Flora persisted. ‘Because that wouldn't be fair to Arthur in the long run.'

Sophie gave her a sharp look. ‘Don't tell me what's fair! You all made sure I didn't have the man I fell in love with. Well, at least as Arthur's wife I'll have a position in society - as a Hauxley I'll have power. People will listen to me more than they ever will to Charles in his backwater mission. I'll be the best recruiting sergeant the army's ever had. And one day I'll be a Member of Parliament just like Arthur's father.' Her look was passionate, her eyes hostile. ‘Maybe I do feel sorry for Arthur - but I respect him too. I'm proud to be marrying a captain in the British Army, just as I was proud of my brother Liddon. Charles may be loveable and well-meaning, but he will never match up to either of them.'