One Step at a Time (41 page)

‘Oh, God, Amy, what’s the matter with him? Where is he?’ Howard was very agitated now, after seeing Amy’s distress.

‘He’s left, Uncle Howard,’ Grace told him, her little face serious. ‘He wouldn’t talk to us.’

‘I hardly recognized him.’ Amy wiped her eyes and sniffed. ‘He’s had a bad time, by the look of him. He shouldn’t be alone. We must find him. Where do you think he’s gone?’

Howard ran a hand through his hair. ‘He must have come straight here, so perhaps he’s gone to his parents now.’

That didn’t make sense. ‘But he wouldn’t leave here without seeing you first, surely? And why didn’t you see him in the road when you came in?’

He didn’t speak; he was staring at the canvas on the easel. ‘Who did that?’

‘Uncle Ben.’ Grace screwed up her face as she looked at it. ‘I can paint like that.’

‘Sweetheart, you can paint better than that.’ He looked at Amy with something akin to fear in his eyes. ‘Even when he was five years old he could paint a beautiful picture. That’s terrible, and it frightens me to think what state of mind he’s in. Where the hell would he go?’

‘Mummy.’ Grace had gone to look out of the window. ‘He’s in the garden.’

They both rushed over. He was sitting on top of the Anderson shelter, staring into space.

Howard sucked in a deep breath as he gazed at the man who had been his lifelong friend. He was a shadow of the man they had all known. ‘I’ll go and talk to him on my own.’

‘He’ll be pleased to see you.’ Amy straightened up and lifted her chin. ‘I’ll see about cooking lunch. He doesn’t look as if he’s had a decent meal in years.’

An hour passed and there was no sign of the men coming in, but at least Ben was talking to Howard as they both sat on the grass covering the shelter. There was a stew in the oven; it could just stay there until needed, it wouldn’t spoil, and the dumplings could be added at the last minute.

Ted and Mrs Dalton arrived almost at the same time.

‘Something smells good,’ Ted said appreciatively, then caught sight of the man outside. ‘Who’s that with Howard?’

‘It’s Ben.’ Amy’s voice wavered.

‘Benjamin!’ Mrs Dalton was at the door before Amy could catch her arm. ‘I didn’t recognize him.’

‘Leave it for a while. We mustn’t crowd him. Something is terribly wrong, and we must let Howard see him alone. Even his parents don’t know he’s back.’

‘That isn’t right.’ Mrs Dalton sat down heavily, distressed. ‘They must be told at once!’

‘I’ll go and get them, but first, Amy, you must tell me exactly what happened when you saw him.’

It didn’t take long to tell Ted the story; afterwards, he nodded grimly. ‘He’s going to need time and plenty of personal space in order to readjust. Those years as a POW have obviously taken their toll. I’ll explain to his parents, and bring them back with me.’

‘Thanks, Ted.’

He was back within the hour, with Ben’s parents, who looked sick with worry.

‘Why didn’t he let us know he was home?’ Mr Scott asked gruffly, never taking his eyes off his son in the garden with Howard.

Mrs Scott was fighting back tears, and saying nothing. Amy touched her arm in sympathy. ‘He’s been deprived of paints for such a long time, so he probably wanted to see that his studio was still as he left it,’ she said gently. The Scotts were so distressed that she certainly wasn’t going to tell them about the strange painting he had been doing when she had found him. ‘He would have come to you later today, I’m sure.’

‘Yes, of course.’ His mother spoke for the first time. ‘We desperately want him to come and stay with us to recuperate, but seeing the state he’s in, it might be better for him to remain here.’

‘Why don’t you go and suggest that to him?’ Amy was relieved to hear Mrs Scott’s sensible suggestion. From what she had seen of Ben in the studio, and his frantic efforts there, it was clear that he should be here, breathing in the smell of paint. He could
have solitude, if he wanted it. She would see to that.

Her thoughts went back to the time he had found her beside her mother’s grave. She had needed help then; now the role was reversed, and it was her chance to repay that act of kindness. He had changed her life that day, giving her hope, love and a sense of belonging. They were clearly all the things Ben now needed.

‘Mummy, is Uncle Ben going to stay with us?’

Grace had been unusually quiet, as if sensing that they were facing a crisis, and Amy smiled down at her. ‘We hope so, darling, but we must let him decide that for himself.’

She nodded and climbed on to her chair. ‘Is our dinner nearly ready? I’m hungry.’

‘It won’t be long, Grace, we must wait for Uncle Ben.’ She glanced out of the window, watching Ben talk to his parents.

Howard came in, leaving them alone with their son.

‘How is he?’ Mrs Dalton asked as soon as he came in the back door.

‘He’s all right, but a bit disorientated after so long shut away in camps. It’s all a bit hard to adjust to, and he doesn’t want to talk about the last few years.’

‘That’s understandable,’ Ted murmured.

‘Uncle Howard?’ Grace snagged his attention. ‘Doesn’t Uncle Ben like me? He wouldn’t talk to me.’ This was still troubling the little girl.

‘He thinks you’re beautiful. He told me so just now.’

Kicking her legs at that piece of news, Grace beamed at everyone in the room.

The Scotts came into the kitchen with Ben right behind them. He looked better; not quite so tense. Talking to Howard and his parents had obviously helped.

Ted shook his hand. ‘Welcome home, Ben, you’ve been sorely missed.’

It was Mrs Dalton’s turn then, and she reached up to kiss his cheek, then she stood back and gave him a stern look. ‘Well, Benjamin, you’ve given us a lot of worry.’

A slow smile spread across his face at her chiding tone and, at that moment, Amy caught a glimpse of the old Ben. Relief spread through her. The next few weeks were going to be hard for him, but he’d always been a strong man, physically and mentally. Whatever demons he had running around in his head, they would soon be dealt with, she was sure.

‘Sit down everyone.’ Fortunately, Amy had made a very large stew, and with extra dumplings there was enough to go round.

As they enjoyed the meal the conversation was general, never touching on the war. Ben said very little, seeming happy enough to listen to Howard explain their plans for opening a shop again as soon as they could.

Grace hardly took her eyes off Ben, smiling when he looked at her, and giggling when he winked and popped one of his dumplings on her plate. Leaning
towards him, she whispered, ‘I’m full. Can I give it to Oscar?’

‘Do cats like dumplings?’ he whispered back.

She nodded. ‘He eats anything.’

‘In that case he can have it.’

Watching the gentle interplay between them, Amy saw that her outgoing daughter could help Ben adjust to normal life again.

As soon as the meal was over, Mr and Mrs Scott made to leave.

‘Ben, you’ll come and see us soon?’ his mother asked, hopefully.

‘Of course.’ He stood up as well. ‘I’ll see you to the door.’

When they were out of earshot, Mrs Dalton’s concern showed. ‘Did he say what has happened to him, Howard? I could hardly believe that’s our Benjamin.’

‘As I’ve said, he won’t talk about it. We must leave him in peace. I’m sure he’ll tell us when he’s ready.’

‘But you were with him for over an hour.’ She couldn’t let the subject drop. ‘What did you talk about?’

‘How Amy coped with losing John – that has upset him very much – and bringing up a baby on her own. He wanted to know how I got back from Dunkirk, and what I’ve been doing since. How bad my injuries were. What everyone’s been doing while he’s been away.’ Howard shrugged. ‘He wanted to know about everyone, but never once mentioned where he’s been, or what conditions were like in the camps.’

‘Terrible, by the look of him.’ Ted frowned. ‘We’ve got to leave him to come to terms with what has happened to him.’

‘I agree with Ted.’ Amy began to clear the table. ‘He knows we’re here for him if he needs us. I think that’s why he came straight here, instead of going to his parents’ first.’

‘You’re right,’ Mrs Dalton agreed as she helped stack the dishes.

Ben didn’t come back to the kitchen. They heard the front door close and his footsteps going upstairs.

They always had a cup of tea after a meal, so Amy made a pot, laid out the cups and cut a slice of the cake Mrs Dalton had made the day before. With rationing as it was this was a treat now. Putting the plate on a tray with a cup of tea, she picked it up and headed for the stairs. If he didn’t want to talk, she would just leave it and come straight down again.

When she walked into the studio, Ben was sitting on the settee, looking absolutely spent. Smiling brightly, she put the tray beside him. ‘You didn’t come back for your tea. There’s a piece of cake for you, as well.’

‘Thanks, Amy.’

As she turned to walk away, he caught hold of her arm. ‘I’m desperately sorry about John, and upset that I wasn’t here for you. It must have been terrible.’

She knelt in front of him, holding his large hand in both of hers. He was so troubled, but she was determined to treat him as she had always done, and be honest. ‘I’m sorry you weren’t here, as well. I felt
lost, just like I was when you found me after my mother had died. Only this time it was much worse. The pain was unbearable, and I didn’t know how I could carry on, but then I found out that I was pregnant. It helped me and John’s parents to realize we would have a part of John in our lives again.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘You have a beautiful child, and she’s so like John.’

‘Except for her hair!’ Her laugh was infectious, and when Ben joined in, it gave her hope that his recovery would be quick.

‘I had noticed.’ His sigh was deep and ragged. ‘Give me time, Amy. I’ve got things to deal with.’

‘We understand that you need space, but’ – she shook his hand to make her point – ‘we are here to help you. You mustn’t keep everything to yourself. Do you remember how I tried to hide that I couldn’t read or write properly?’

He nodded.

‘Well, it was only when I admitted it and brought the problem out into the open that the shame and confusion no longer troubled me. When you’re ready, you can talk to me about anything. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I do, but at the moment all I need is peace and quiet.’ His grin was wry. ‘You have no idea what it was like living with several hundred men, never being able to get away to be on your own, or walk through the gates to the open countryside.’ He yawned and closed his eyes for a moment.

‘You’re exhausted, Ben. Why don’t you go and have a sleep?’ She stood up, sensing that he had had enough company for one day. ‘I made up your bed last week, in the hope that you would soon be home.’

‘I’ll just rest here. The settee’s a lot more comfortable than a lot of the places I’ve slept in.’

‘I’ll get a pillow and blanket for you.’

‘That’s all right, I can do it myself.’ He spoke quite sharply.

Bending down she kissed his forehead. ‘Get some rest. You know where I am if you need me.’

She walked out of the studio and down the stairs. All they could do was be there for him when he needed them.

Listening to her light footsteps on the stairs, Ben ran a hand over his eyes, glad to be alone again. He drank the tea and managed half the cake. It was going to take him a while to get used to such luxuries.

Hauling himself to his feet, he walked over to the easel, shaking his head in horror at the mess he’d made. Tossing the canvas aside he placed another on there, and just stared at the blankness, not knowing how to start. All of his life he had been able to picture a finished painting, and start work on it without hesitation, but now his mind was blank. He picked up a brush and covered the canvas in a pale coloured wash to get rid of the stark white, then he thought about the river where he had met Amy that first time, and began to paint.

Two hours later he stopped, gazed at his past work hanging on the studio walls and threw the brush down in disgust. That was terrible! No one would ever believe that the same man had painted this. Why couldn’t he paint? Why?

Scraping the wet paint off the canvas, he started again, trying this time to copy the portrait he’d done of Amy.

It was nothing like the original, and quickly abandoned. He would just have to keep trying. He was unable to imagine his life without creating pictures. The thought appalled him.

Hardly able to stand up by now, he threw himself on the settee. Rest. He must rest, and then the next painting would be better.

38

For three days Ben hardly came out of his studio, and he wouldn’t let anyone in. He took his meals up there, slept there, and all efforts by Howard and Ted to make him go to the pub with them, or get involved with plans for the shop, came to nothing. Everyone was worried sick, and Grace was upset with him. She had been looking forward to her Uncle Ben coming home, and she never saw him. Amy had tried to explain, but the little girl just didn’t understand why he wouldn’t come and talk to her like her Uncle Howard did.

‘This can’t go on, Amy.’ Mrs Dalton frowned. ‘We’ve kept out of his way, giving him the time and space he said he needed, but he’s shut himself away in that studio of his, and I don’t like it. Whatever demons he’s dealing with, he ought to let us help. If only he would come down here, eat with us, and try to get back to a normal life. I know it’s hard for him, but our Benjamin has always been a strong person. This just isn’t like him.’

‘I think it’s time we intervened. Dinner will be ready in an hour, so I’ll see if I can get him to eat with us instead of taking it upstairs.’ With a determined set to her mouth, Amy headed upstairs.

Pushing open the door she took two steps into the studio… and stopped dead in astonishment. There were discarded pictures on the floor, the settee, the bench and every available space. He had used everything he could find to paint on: hardboard, paper and even cardboard, but most of them were on canvas.

‘Where did you get all these?’ she gasped.