A Wartime Nurse (43 page)

BOOK: A Wartime Nurse

8.17Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

Walking up the path by the side of Old Elvet chapel, they saw Billy Carter and his mother.

‘Hello, Billy,’ Richard called, beaming with pride from his seat in the air. He waved his hand and arm so vigorously Ken had to grab the top of his leg to hold him on.

‘Well, that’ll give Mrs Carter something else to gossip about,’ said Theda. Ken shrugged, as far as he was able with Richard on his shoulders.

‘What does it matter?’ he said indifferently. ‘We’re getting married, aren’t we?’

‘We are,’ agreed Theda, and opened her front door and led the way inside for breakfast.

They drove up to Marsden in Ken’s Rover, Richard sitting in the back seat with Flora. Theda was quiet. In spite of herself she wondered how she would be received by Ken’s family, a woman with a child of almost five. After all, they didn’t know who Richard’s father was either.

‘It will be fine, you’ll see,’ said Ken quietly as they drove up the lane to the farm. ‘They liked you the last time you were here, didn’t they? In any case, you’re marrying me, not the family.’

She glanced up at him, surprised. He had practically read her mind once again. Yet on that most important thing . . . But they were entering the farmyard now so there was no more time to talk privately.

‘Now then, Ken. How’re you going on? Be careful with Flora, the bitch has puppies,’ called Walt as they were getting out of the car. ‘We don’t want a dog fight on our hands.’

‘Puppies!’ breathed Richard, his eyes alight. He looked longingly at the kennel by the back door where the sheepdog was lying, watching the newcomers suspiciously.

‘I’ll fasten her in the scullery,’ said Ken. But there was no need. Flora was a sensitive, intelligent dog. Before Ken could take hold of her she approached to within six feet of the kennel and lay down, wagging her tail to show she meant no harm. The sheepdog gave a warning growl and turned to nose the puppies further inside but she obviously saw no real threat in Flora.

‘Look at that, then,’ Walt, who had been forking manure out of the stable, put down the gripe and wiped his hands on a piece of sacking. ‘Hello, there.’ He nodded to Theda. ‘I won’t shake hands – you can see why.’ He grinned and she saw his face light up in the way of his brother’s. He turned to Richard.

‘Would you like to see the puppies? If you come with me and don’t try to touch, I’ll show you. They’re only a few days old, you see, their eyes aren’t open yet.’

Ken and Theda left the boy with Walt and went inside. Meg was in the kitchen with Jane. Surprisingly, to Theda at any rate, the two women looked exactly the same as they had when she had last seen them. Ken’s mother as pale and ethereal and Meg, his grandmother, as sturdy and bright-eyed. Perhaps she had a few more lines on her face.

Solid as she was, Ken stepped forward and lifted her up and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheeks, swinging her round as she did so. ‘How’s my best girl?’ he said, laughing.

‘Go on, you daft beggar!’ Meg cried, slapping out at him. ‘What will Theda think?’

‘What should she think?’

He went over to his mother and bent over her chair. She lifted up her face for his kiss eagerly, cheeks flushing pink with pleasure.

‘How are you feeling, Mother?’

‘Not bad, Ken, not bad. All the better for seeing you.’

‘Come and sit down, Theda lass, I’ll have the tea made in a trice, the kettle’s boiling.’ There was a new electric cooker to the side of the fireplace but an old iron kettle was singing on the hob of the coal range. ‘Call Walt, will you, Ken? Jack’s in the byre an’ all.’

Walt came in, Richard at his side. A little shy at first, he went straight to Theda and leaned against her knee.

‘This is Richard,’ said Ken.

‘Now then, Richard,’ said Meg. ‘Howay, sit down. I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you? I’ve got some nice new scones and strawberry jam, would you like one?’

‘Yes, please,’ said the boy, and he scrambled on to the chair by his mother. ‘The puppies have no hair and they can’t open their eyes,’ he told her. ‘Uncle Walt says I can come back and see them when their eyes open. He says their eyes will be blue at first.’

Meg sat down suddenly. ‘How old are you, Richard?’ she asked.

‘I’m five. But I’ve started school, you know, I can read.’ Honesty got the better of him and he added, ‘Little words, I can read.’

Theda stared down at her scone. She could feel the heat in her face, even the tips of her ears. There was a silence in the room. Ken, who had taken a bite of his scone, put it down on his plate and swallowed.

Meg gazed hard from him to the boy. ‘So you’re getting married, are you, at last?’ she asked Ken. ‘An’ not afore time, I’d reckon. By, lad, what’ve you been thinking of all these years?’

Ken jumped up from the table and rushed out of the room without looking at Theda, and Walt mumbled something about having things to see to and drank his tea in one swallow. Taking his scone in his hand, he went out to the scullery and could be heard putting on his farm boots.

‘Eeh, lass, do you mean to say Ken didn’t know?’ asked Meg. Jane had risen from her customary seat by the fire and came to sit beside her mother. When Theda raised her eyes, both women were looking at her.

‘Richard, why don’t you go and see if Uncle Walt needs some help?’ suggested Meg, and they waited while he picked up the last drop of jam from his plate with his forefinger and sucked it.

‘All right, Mam?’ he asked, and she nodded.

The women were left on their own and Theda met their eyes. ‘I meant to tell him, it just never seemed to be the right time,’ she said. ‘How did you know?’

‘There’s eyesight in it,’ declared Meg. ‘Anyone can see the bairn’s a Grizedale; he has the family face. Even if he has his Grandfather Collins’s eyes. Not to mention Ken’s.’

‘He’s my grandson too,’ said Jane. ‘You shouldn’t have kept him from us, Theda. I’m sure if Ken had known he would have done the right thing by you. He’s an honourable man.’

‘Yes.’

‘Best go out there and find him, lass,’ advised Meg. ‘Go on now. So you made a mistake. You’ll just have to put it right, won’t you? Walt will watch the bairn or we will.’

Theda went out through the scullery, passing Jack in the doorway and acknowledging his greeting. As she went into the farmyard she could see Walt and Richard just closing a field gate after a herd of cows.

‘Get along there, Daisy,’ Walt encouraged a straggler. And, ‘Go on, Daisy,’ echoed Richard. Walt saw Theda and nodded down the lane. ‘Ken went off down there, I think,’ he said. ‘That’s where he always went when he was out of sorts. The lad’ll be all right with me if you want to go.’

She walked down the lane, feeling sick with a misery that was all the stronger after the happiness of this morning. She should have told him; he had had a right to know. She was in the wrong, oh, yes, she was well aware of that. She walked over the road and along the top of the cliffs to where the Souter lighthouse stood. And there, near the edge of the cliff, she found him sitting with his back against a wall, staring out at the seabirds swooping and diving around Marsden Rock. She sat down beside him.

‘I don’t think I told you,’ he said, ‘Gran left school at nine-years-old and her first job was scrubbing down the steps of the lighthouse. Did I tell you?’

‘No. No you didn’t tell me that.’ She swallowed and looked out to sea. ‘Ken, I’m sorry, I am. I can understand how you must hate me for it.’

‘Hate you? No. I just feel such a fool. It’s you has had all the worry, all the trouble of bringing the boy up on your own.’

‘Yes, but . . . oh, I should have made more effort to get in touch with you. I went to see Tucker Cornish, you know. He said he hadn’t the authority to give me your address. But he didn’t know about the baby, mind.’

Tucker, thought Ken. Well, he couldn’t blame him. It was his own fault, no one else’s. When he first walked out of the farmhouse he had been furiously angry – angry that he hadn’t recognised his own child, angry with Theda that she hadn’t told him, angry at the war, the flaming, bloody war, which had separated them in the first place. He had missed the first few years of the boy’s life. But hadn’t that happened to thousands during the war? He wasn’t alone in it. And why let that poison the rest of their lives? They had had their time for war, now it was a time to heal. Beside him, he could feel how miserable she was. Scrambling to his feet, he held out a hand to Theda and after a moment she put hers in it and allowed him to pull her up.

‘Never mind, sweetheart, never mind,’ he said. A cold wind blew over the North Sea, though the sun shone bravely enough. He opened his coat and held her to him, holding the coat round them both as she laid her head against his.

‘I thought it was over, finished. I thought you wouldn’t want to marry me now,’ she said.

‘Well, like Gran said, it’s about time too.’

‘But it’s not just because of Richard, is it?’

‘Theda, I know I’ve been stupid, but really, you sound as dense as two short planks. I love you, you daft lass. I love
you
. How many times do you want me to say it?’

She buried her head in his chest. They stood for a few minutes then turned together and walked back to the farm, arms entwined.