Time for Silence (21 page)

“We’re certain to hear when it’s sold,” added my mother. “You can’t keep things like that secret here.”

Then the talk switched back to the coalition and the possibility of Mr. Asquith’s handing over the premiership to Mr. Lloyd George.

Very soon after that Robert Denver came to see us. He looked really handsome in his uniform. He was still too thin and looked taller than ever, but less “disjointed,” as Annabelinda had once described her brother’s physique.

I was delighted to see him. I studied him with awe.

“Oh, Robert,” I cried. “You’re through. You’ve got your commission!”

“I’m pleased,” he admitted. “I feel like a man again.”

“Free of those bullying sergeant majors. Poor Robert. I could imagine how you felt about it.”

“Necessary, I suppose. But hard to take at times.”

“So it is good-bye, Salisbury Plain.” My face fell. “And now…the battlefield.”

“The battlefield is to be postponed…probably for a month or more. What do you think? I’m going on a course.”

“A course? I thought you’d just come through your training.”

“So I have. But this is different. Do you know, Lucinda, I was by no means a model soldier? It’s a bit of luck that I got my commission. But I discovered a method of memorizing the Morse code. The others couldn’t understand how I did it. To tell the truth, I couldn’t myself. Well, since I could work the thing more quickly than the others, I was selected to go on this course.”

“That means you’ll be sending messages…on the battlefield.”

“Something like that, I imagine. I’ll have my mechanic with me. He’ll fix the phones….That sort of thing would be beyond me. I’ll take the messages and send others…or something like that, I suppose.”

“Oh, Robert, I’m proud of you.”

“I’ve done nothing to be proud of.”

“You have, and you will do more.”

“Oh, I’m not made in the heroic mold. That’s for people like Major Merrivale. By the way, have you seen him lately?”

“No. He’s in Gallipoli.”

Robert looked grim.

“So is Uncle Gerald,” I went on. “We’re quite anxious.”

Robert nodded in understanding.

My mother greeted him warmly. So did Aunt Celeste, who was often at Marchlands and enjoyed helping in the hospital.

There was a good deal of talk, and Miss Carruthers and Andrée joined us. Then my mother, Andrée and I took Robert along to see Edward.

“He’s growing fast,” commented Robert.

Andrée looked at Edward with pride. “He’s going to be a big boy, aren’t you, Edward?”

Edward muttered something and smiled benignly.

We had lunch, and afterward my mother said, “Why don’t you and Robert go for a little ride, Lucinda? You used to love to ride round these lanes.”

“I like the idea,” Robert said. “Don’t you, Lucinda?”

“I do,” I said.

Soon we were out, riding through the familiar countryside, as we used to before I went away to school and there was a war.

We kept recalling incidents from the past.

“Do you remember when we found the baby blackbird lying in the road?” Robert said.

“Oh, yes. He’d fallen out of the nest. And you climbed a tree because we guessed the nest would be up there…and we put him back….And the next day we came to see if he was all right.”

“Do you remember when your horse tripped over a log in the forest and you landed in a heap of leaves?”

We laughed at the memory. There was so much to remember.

“It seems so long ago,” I said, “because everything has changed.”

“It will come back to normal.”

“Do you think so?”

“I do. I shall be back with the estate and in time it will seem as though this never happened.”

“I think that when this sort of thing comes it changes people and they can never be the same again.”

“You’re not changing, are you, Lucinda?”

“I feel different. I notice it…riding with you like this, and talking about what happened in the old days. Little things like the baby bird and the tumble in the forest. It takes me back, and for a moment I am as I was then…and then I can see that there is a lot of difference between that person and what I am today.”

“I suppose we are all touched by experience, but what I mean is, are you the same Lucinda, my special friend?”

“I hope I shall always be that, Robert.”

“You must always be, no matter what happens.”

“It’s a comfort to hear that. I’ve always been able to rely on you.”

“The old predictable, as my sister calls me. She says it’s why I’m so dull. She always knows what I am going to do.”

“Well, Annabelinda always believes she is right.
She’s
predictable enough in that.”

“It’s true that I am predictable in most things, and I suppose that can be called unexciting.”

“Well, I was very excited when I saw you this morning in uniform.”

“You were the first one I wanted to show it off to.”

“Are you going to your parents?”

“Yes, this evening.”

“And shall I see you before you go on your course?”

“I plan to stay at home for two days. Then have one more day at Marchlands, if that is agreeable to you.”

“I suppose you have to go home?”

“I must. My father will have so much to tell me about the estate.”

“You love the land, don’t you, Robert?”

“I’ve been brought up to know that it will be mine one day…in the far distant future, I hope. I feel the same about it as my father does. As you know, he and I have always been the best of friends.”

“My mother often says you are just like him.”

“That’s the general opinion. My mother and sister are quite different.”

“It’s odd to have such contrasts in one family. People say I am like my mother, but my mother says I have a lot of my father in me. I don’t know who Charles takes after. I suppose he’ll go into politics. At the moment, he is the only person I know who is praying for the war to go on until he is old enough to join the army.”

“A good patriotic spirit!”

“I think he is more concerned with the glory of Charles Greenham! He sees himself dashing into battle and winning the war in a week.”

“He’ll grow up.”

“I’m glad you are going on this course, Robert…because it will delay your going…out there.”

“I’ll be all right, Lucinda. The old predictable. You’ll see me just obeying orders from my superior commanders. I’m the sort who muddles through.”

“Don’t change, will you?”

“I couldn’t if I tried. May I make the same request of you?”

“Oh, look!” I said. “There’s the old Priory.”

“What a difference! What have they done to it?”

“There are new people there.”

“Have they bought it?”

“I think they must have. The old owners were so careless about it. Now there is a caretaker with a fierce dog to keep people out. Mind you, people did wander in and out. There were some broken windows and people used to get into the house. I suppose there’s a good reason for a caretaker.”

“They’ve cleaned it up, haven’t they?”

“Yes. I expect the new people will be moving in soon.”

“Let’s hope they’ll be agreeable and add something to the social life of Marchlands.”

“My parents are hoping they are good Liberals.”

“Well, the Liberals haven’t got the monopoly now, have they? With this coalition, a Conservative has as good a chance of getting into the Cabinet.”

“When my father comes home we hear something of what is going on. They are still harrying poor old Asquith.”

“He won’t last much longer.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“The only good thing would be to finish off this war and get back to peace.”

That evening Robert left us to join his family.

“I shall see you in two days’ time,” he said. “Make sure that you keep the day free.”

“I might even get Miss Carruthers to let me off lessons.”

“I always forget you are a schoolgirl, Lucinda. But it is not for much longer, is it?”

When he had gone I fell to thinking of Marcus Merrivale. He, with Robert, was looking forward to the time when I grew up.

I felt honored, and at the same time uneasy. When I was with Robert I knew exactly that it was where I wanted to be; but then, the exhilarating company of Marcus Merrivale was quite intoxicating.

It was Christmas again and then the New Year, 1916. Nothing was going well. It was acknowledged that the plan to capture the Dardanelles had been a failure.

There were some who agreed with Churchill that it was a brilliant idea but that it had been badly carried out.

The Secretary of State for War, Lord Kitchener, had gone out to the Dardanelles to advise withdrawal. There was no hope of victory there and it was a waste of men and ammunition to carry on. And now, in January of that year, the troops from Gallipoli began to arrive back in England.

It was at the end of that month when Uncle Gerald came to see us. He looked older than he had when he left. He told us that the campaign should never have been undertaken.

He played it out at lunch at the table.

“Doomed to fail from the start,” he said. “A lack of surprise, for one thing. They sent us part-time soldiers. We lacked experienced men, and believe me, that’s what was needed for an enterprise like this. There weren’t enough supplies. There was an acute shortage of shells. Asquith must go!”

“Churchill has already gone,” my father reminded him.

“Churchill’s idea was all right. That could have worked. It was the way it was tackled which destroyed us. You see, here we are….” My mother looked apprehensively at his wine glass. “And here…” He swung the cruet into line. “…the Turk.”

For a moment we watched him moving plates and dishes around the table. It did not look in the least like a battlefield to me and I was longing to ask for news of Marcus Merrivale.

“It hasn’t done much for our prestige. This is the beginning of the end for Asquith. Consider our losses, Joel…nearly a quarter of a million men…and many from the Empire. It’s a disaster, Joel. A disaster. I daresay you’ve been hearing about it all in the House.”

“They’ve talked of little else since Kitchener’s verdict.”

“Heads will fall, Joel. Heads will fall.”

“I daresay you are glad to be back, Gerald,” said my mother. “What about Major Merrivale? Is he back with you?”

“They are all coming back. Merrivale was wounded.”

“Wounded!” said my mother. “Badly?”

“Hm. He went straight to the hospital.”

“He could have come here,” said my mother.

“My dear Lucie, I think he was really rather badly hurt.”

My mother bristled and Uncle Gerald relented a little.

“In cases like this,” he said, “they’re taken off to one of the London hospitals.”

“How badly hurt is he?” I asked.

“Oh, he’ll come through. Trust Merrivale for that. But it was a bit more than a sniper’s bullet.”

“Which hospital is he in?” asked my mother.

“I’m not sure.”

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know the details…just that he was a stretcher case.”

I felt sick. I could imagine…a stretcher case. How was he? I wanted to see him.

My mother said, “We have a special interest in him, you know, Gerald, after, he brought Lucinda, Edward and the others out of Belgium.”

“Oh, I know. A great fellow. He’s not at death’s door. Just needs a bit of patching up.”

“You must find out more details and let us know. I think that if he is in a London hospital, the least Lucinda and I can do is visit him, Joel. I don’t forget what he did for Lucinda. Heaven knows what might have happened if he hadn’t looked after her, and we shall always be grateful to you, Gerald, for sending him to look after her.”

“Seemed the best thing to do. He’s a very resourceful fellow. Well, you’d expect that. There’s only one Merrivale.”

“Well, do let us know, Gerald. We’d love to go and see him, wouldn’t we, Lucinda?”

“Yes,” I answered. “We would.”

In his precise way, Uncle Gerald sent the information to us in a few days.

My mother said it was not easy to leave the hospital but under the circumstances she thought it necessary.

Andrée said she would like to come with us. Not that she would accompany us to the hospital, for she was sure three people would be too many, but she wanted to go to London to get some things for Edward.

“Do you remember that musical box he had? It played the Brahms lullaby when it opened. I know he misses it. He was opening a box yesterday and clearly listening. He looked so disappointed because there was no tune.”

“Fancy his remembering all that time,” said my mother. “But it’s a haunting melody and I suppose even a child would be aware of that.”

“It is that and a few other things I should like to get,” said Andrée.

“It seems a good idea,” replied my mother.

So we went.

Marcus was in a ward with several other officers. He was lying on his back and not quite his usual exuberant self; but he grinned at us.

“This is wonderful,” he said. “How good of you to come and see this poor old crock.”

“I don’t think the term applies,” said my mother. “Gerald told us you were improving every day.”

“My progress will leap forward after this visit. Do sit down.”

“Please don’t move,” said my mother.

“It would be rather impossible, I fear. They’ve got me strapped up a bit.”

“How do you feel?”

“Wonderful…because you and Lucinda have come to see me.”

My mother laughed. “I’m serious, Major Merrivale.”

“So am I. And please don’t call me Major.”

“Marcus,” said my mother. “We are so glad that you are home.”

“Does that go for Miss Lucinda also?”

“Of course it does,” I said. “We were worried about you when we heard things were not going well.”

He grimaced. “Something of a shambles, eh? However, it’s brought me home.”

“Where you will be staying for some time,” added my mother.

“That seems very likely.”

“We were disappointed that you did not come to our hospital,” I told him.

“What a pleasure that would have been…worth getting hit for.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” said my mother. “Marchlands is an excellent place for convalescence. The forest, you know. Perhaps later on…”