THE CINDER PATH (29 page)

appreciate things, but there's t'others if you get

me meanin', sir. I'm sorry if you think I've

spoken out of turn, sir."

Charlie nipped on his lower lip for a moment; then his

voice coming from deep in his throat, he said, "Thank you. Thank you. Miller. I may as well tell you

that I've been thinking along similar lines myself, but it's heartening to know that one has a little backing."

"Good. Good for you, sir. One last thing I'd like

you to know, sir. You're . . . you're well liked

among the men."

Charlie smiled broadly now as he said,

"Well, if that's the case it's because I remember, as I gather you all know, that not so long ago

I was one of them, and in a way I suppose"-he

shook his head-"I still am. That's the trouble, if trouble it is. ... Anyway, what about that tea?"

"On the double, sir, on the double."

As the man went out of the room Charlie sat down

on the chair Miller had vacated and he thought,

That's the only piece of ordinary conversation I've

had with a man for months.

He fingered the pip on his shoulder. Was it worth

it? It was questionable. What was he talking about,

remember Slater!

He had made use of the first half of his full

day's leave by paying a quick visit to the

farm. He had not intended to do this but he had heard of a transport lorry having to make a delivery to a

camp up on the fells. It only took a little

back-hander to the driver to persuade him to pick him

up again an hour later.

Betty greeted his unexpected arrival with her

usual lack of enthusiasm. Her only comment about his

commission was, "Well you look tidier in that than you did in the other rig-out."

Everything on the farm seemed to be working well,

except she voiced her usual tirade against the

prisoners; they didn't like a woman over

them, she said, but she let them know what was what. His reaction had been, poor devils, but, of course,

merely as a thought. When he had enquired if she had

heard anything about Nellie, she had answered,

"How do you expect me to get news here except

what I can gather from outof-date papers? She

doesn't bother to come over here"-meaning Florence Chapman"...and I can assure you I have no time

to trail over there. So what has she done now, the

smart Miss Nellie?"

But he didn't inform her what Nellie had

done, only to say she was in hospital with

pneumonia, and when he had bidden her good-bye and

left the farm and was walking through the fields-his

fields-he had asked himself which was preferable, to be living alone back there with Betty, or to be in the

army? And without hesitation he plumped for the latter.

What it would be like after the war he dreaded to think; but then again there mightn't be any after the war for him if he was sent over there. And that was a journey that could quite easily come about in the near future, for although the

battalion wouldn't move as a whole, it was being

broken up and sections sent hither and thither almost every week.

It was a quarter to three when he arrived

at the hospital. He hurried along the

corridor, past the wards where every bed had its

visitors, to the small side ward. He didn't

stop to ask the nurse for permission to enter but went

straight in, then came to a stop at the sight of the

soldier sitting by the bedside holding Nellie's

hand. He noted immediately that Nellie looked much

better for she was sitting propped up against the

pillows; he also noted that the fellow sitting by her

side had a possessive look about him. The

soldier was quickly on his feet, he was a sergeant,

and

although he didn't stand to attention he stood slightly away from the bed.

It was Nellie who spoke first. "Hello,

Charlie," she said.

"Hello, Nellie." He moved to the bottom

of the bed.

"Don't you remember Alec? You know, he and his

pal were together that night you called."

"Oh yes, yes." He smiled towards the

sergeant now, and the man, relaxing somewhat, smiled

back at him, before turning to Nellie and saying,

"I'll wait outside a bit, dear, eh?"

"Yes, Alec." He went to take her

hand, then changed his mind, but he smiled widely

down on her before turning to go out of the room.

"Come and sit down, Charlie."

He took the chair by the bed. "How are you? You

look better."

"I'm feeling fine now. You did remember him,

didn't you?"

"Yes, yes, of course, Nellie, I

remembered him."

She looked at him for a moment in silence.

"He's . . . he's been a very good friend to me,

Charlie."

5Just

"Yes, I'm sure he has, Nellie."

"He ... he was a bit embarrassed to see you,

I mean being an officer."

"He needn't be."

"I got your letter."

"Good."

"I... I couldn't write back, I felt so

tired."

"I didn't expect you to. I'm so glad

though to see you looking so much better."

She nodded at him, then turned her gaze from him

and looked down towards her hands as she said,

"Mother"11 be here today. She's going to make arrangements to take me home for convalescence"-now she slanted her eyes towards him-"and to see that I don't try anything funny again."

"You won't. And I'm glad you're going

home."

"I don't mean to stay there, Charlie, I

couldn't, but I'll be glad to rest for a time. It

isn't that I'm physically tired, it's . . .

it's more in my mind."

"I know."

"Charlie."

"Yes, dear?"

"Alec wants to marry me."

As he stared into her eyes there rushed

through his mind a voice as if coming from a deep well, shouting, "Charlie! Charlie! will you marry me?"

"Do ... do you care for him?"

"I like him."

Who else had said that? Polly.

"Enough to marry him?"

"It all depends, Charlie. I'm lost, I'm

lonely."

"But I thought. ..."

"Don't say you thought I had lots of

friends, Charlie, please don't. They were soldiers,

young fellows who hadn't a fireside to sit beside, and

I wanted to laugh and dance and sing; I wanted all

kinds of things, Charlie, to make up for what I

lost. You know what I'm saying, Charlie?"

He was silent, lost in the depths of the revelation

in her eyes. When his gaze dropped from hers and he

bowed his head and she said, "I didn't mean

to embarrass you, Charlie," his chin snapped upwards and his voice was loud as he cried, "You're not

embarrassing me." Then he closed his eyes and

covered the lower part of his face with his hand, saying,

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Nellie."

She gave a small laugh now as she said,

"Don't apologize, it's nice to hear someone

shout; they've been going round here for days whispering as if they were just waiting to lay me out, which I suppose they were, at first anyway."

"Nellie"-he gripped hold of her hands

now-"I'm married, I'm still married to Victoria

and she's your sister, but I've never wished for

freedom more than I do at this moment. Now do you

understand me?"

He watched the colour spread over her face;

then, her voice a whisper, she said,

"That's all I wanted to hear." But now her head gave an impatient shake and her face twisted for a

moment as she said, "No, it isn't. No, it

isn't . . . Charlie-was

"Yes, dear."

"W. . . will you put it into plain words?"

Bringing her hands to his breast now, he pressed

them tightly there, and he stared at her and gulped in his throat before he said, "I... I love you,

Nellie. I think I must have always loved you."

She lay now looking at him for a full minute

before she spoke, and then she said, "You're not just saying it, Charlie, because I'm down? You see I know you,

you'd swear black was white if it meant pleasing

somebody. That's true, isn't it?"

"I suppose so." He nodded at her. "It could have been once, but not any more; the easy-going, good old

Charlie was shot dead some months ago. I'll

tell you about it some time."

"Victoria?"

"Victoria."

"Will you divorce her, Charlie?"

"Yes, as soon as this business is over."

"Kiss me, Charlie."

He kissed her. His arms about her, he

lifted her up from the pillow and with her arms around his neck they clung to each other. When he laid her

back they laughed into each other's face and, his hands on each side of her head, he pressed it into the

pillow, then he kissed her again.

Following this, they were silent for some little time. Their fingers interlocked, they remained looking down at their hands until she said, "I'd like you to know something, Charlie." When he waited she went on, "The

lads, the soldiers, I haven't been with one, I

mean I haven't let any of them sleep with me."

He looked away from her for a moment before he said,

"Playing the big fellow, I should say it wouldn't

matter to me if you had, but. . . but I'd be lying."

She stared straight into his face now as she asked,

"We won't be able to be married for some long time, will we, Charlie?"

"No, I suppose not. Some months ago I was

about to go to a solicitor, I'd all the proof I

needed, but then almost overnight this happened"-he touched his shoulder"...and . . . and I was in a fix because the proof was in the army, high up. But the minute I'm discharged the proceedings will start. I can assure you of that,

dear."

"But that could be a long time, Charlie, or

never."

"Don't say that, Nellie. Don't say that."

"But it could, Charlie, so listen to me. Once I

am home back . . . back in my own place,

I want to come to you."

He made no response to this for some seconds;

then taking her joined hands, he brought them to his

lips, and as he held them there the door opened and her mother came in. . . .

Florence Chapman, taking in the situation, stared

at them fixedly for a moment; then walking towards the

bed, she said "Well! Well now!"

Charlie had risen to his feet and was holding the

chair for her and as she sat

down he said, "Nice to see you, Florence." Her face was straight as she turned it up towards him,

saying, "I don't think I can return the

compliment, not at the moment, Charlie."

"I can understand that, Florence." Florence stared at him. It was only a matter of months since she had

last seen him, but he didn't appear the same

Charlie. The flatness had gone out of both his manner

and voice, even his stance was different, but perhaps that could be put down to his uniform. It was hard to believe that this was the same young fellow who had caused

havoc in her family. But of course he wasn't

really to blame for that, that had been Hal's doing,

God rest his soul, Victoria had merely been a

tool.

And what a tool her daughter had turned out

to be, for she was now man mad. But hadn't she always

been man mad. And of all the men she had to marry it

had to be poor Charlie MacFell. But why was she

thinking poor Charlie? That adjective could no

longer be applied to him for here he was chancing his arm again, and of all people with Nellie, while he was still tied to Victoria. Well, she'd put a stop to that.

What next? she wondered. She looked now at her

daughter and, forcing a

smile to her face, she said, "You're better?"

"Yes, Mother, much better."

"I've just had a word with the sister. She says if you keep up this progress I can take you home

next week."

"Aw, that'll be good."

"And it'll be for good I hope? I was talking

to Ratcliffe in Hexham the other day. He could

sell your house and. ..."

"No, Mother." Nellie had pulled herself up from the pillows as she said again, "No, Mother,

I won't sell the house and . . . and I must

tell you now, far better be above-board, Mother, but

I mean to return to the flat once I get on my

feet. And another thing ... I can say this,

Charlie, can't I?" She looked up at Charlie

now and when he nodded to her she went on, "Charlie and I love each other. It's no news to you that I've

always loved him, and ... if he hadn't been forced

..."

"That's enough, Nellie! Nobody forced him.

Nobody forced you, Charlie, did they?" She now

turned her heated face up towards Charlie, and

he, looking down at her, said quietly, "No,

you're right there, Florence, no one forced me.

Coerced would have been a better word, quietly

coerced."

"Charlie!" Florence Chapman stared up

into the long face. He had changed, changed

completely, indeed he had; the old Charlie would

never have come out with a thing like that. That's what an officer's uniform did to one, she supposed. Yet

she had always known that he wasn't as soft as he

made out to be; there was a depth there and a sly depth if she knew anything about it. But he was right, he had been quietly coerced, and she, as much as

Hal, had had a hand in it, and when things had gone

wrong almost from the start she had known periods of

remorse and guilt. But remorse or guilt