A Wife's War Read online

  ‘Do you think they might be due some more leave soon?’ she asked, talk of Ned leaving her once again longing to have Luke back. She did so long to be a proper wife. Sadly, the more time that passed without him, the less she seemed able to picture what that would even be like. She supposed the same must be true for him, too.

  Across the table from her, Naomi refolded the sheet of paper and slipped it back into the envelope. ‘One can only hope. Although, if we’re getting anywhere close to winning this war, I’d rather they stayed there, saw it through to the end, and then came home. I want Lawrence back for good – as I’m sure you do Luke – so that we can get on with our lives, especially now, with a baby coming. I do so heartily detest existing in this peculiar state of limbo.’

  Idly, Kate refolded a spare napkin. She hated it more than almost anything. What wife wouldn’t? She’d heard recently that the newspapers had coined a phrase for women like her and Naomi. War wives, they’d taken to calling them – patriotic women who had seen their husbands off to fight without a moment’s complaint nor thought for their own hardship. There was even that song by Ivor Novello that everyone kept singing, Till the Boys Come Home which exhorted wives to ‘keep the home fires burning’. If only that was all there was to it.

  Her thoughts returning to Naomi’s remark, she looked across the table. ‘Back before Christmas, that’s what they said when they left.’

  Naomi sighed. ‘They did. Although I suppose the best I can hope now, is that Lawrence arrives back before this baby comes.’

  What? ‘You think they might be away for another six months?’

  Lifting her napkin from her lap, Naomi crumpled it onto her plate. ‘No, what I’m saying is that they had better not be.’

  For a woman with a husband fighting in France and a baby on the way, she thought Naomi Colborne looked remarkably calm – certainly calmer than she thought she would feel in the same situation.

  Watching her pick up Ned’s letter and then put it down again, she said, ‘Does Mr Edwin say anything else?’

  ‘What? Oh, no, not really. I think he just wanted to let me know where he’s being sent. Since he didn’t see fit to cross through the Clarence Square address at the top of the page, I can only imagine he doesn’t expect to be away for very long. Anyway, once we’re back at home, I shall call upon Mamma and see when he’s due to return so that next time he is in town, we don’t miss each other.’

  ‘That’s a good idea.’

  ‘And, upon the matter of home, I suppose we had best get on and make our arrangements to return there. We’ll go to the railway station, make our booking, and then pop along to that little tea room.’

  ‘And after that, I’d best go up and say goodbye to Mrs Channer,’ she said. ‘Poor old soul, it must be hard on her, too, hearing nothing from Luke from one month to the next.’

  ‘It must indeed,’ Naomi agreed, rising to her feet. ‘The longer this war goes on without a victory, the harder it becomes for all of us. Do you know, it said in the newspaper yesterday that over one and a half million men have now volunteered, which made me realize that there must be a similar number of women left behind to fear for them – not just wives, but mothers, sisters… daughters. Makes me feel mean about moaning,’ she observed, ‘if there’s so many of us in the same boat.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘We did say, ma’am, that we would try to find a way to volunteer,’ she remarked as she cleared the remaining few items from the table to her tray.

  ‘We did, yes. And we shall. Once we’re settled back at home I shall telephone cousin Elizabeth and ask her advice. She’s bound to know of something we might do to help.’

  Cousin Elizabeth. Ned. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ she said. ‘That’ll take our minds off things.’ All sorts of things.

  ‘And before we know it, the baby will be here. And no doubt then, we’ll rue having ever moaned about struggling to fill our days.’

  Unable to help but laugh in agreement, Kate lifted her tray from the table. ‘I daresay we shan’t know ourselves, ma’am, no.’

  Perhaps, then, she reflected as she went along the hall and negotiated the door at the top of the stairs, a baby would be just the thing to bring some purpose into their lives. With precious little else to occupy their days, it might also stop them from dwelling quite so much on the continual lack of news from their husbands. As for how she was going to quell that nagging pang of envy, though, she had no idea. Perhaps being back in London would see it off.

  She sighed heavily. London. The truth was, she couldn’t wait to be back there. More than anything, though, she longed to be able to get on with making a proper life – a life that didn’t involve all this waiting about and hoping for an end to the war, just so that she might have Luke back by her side, where he should have been all along.

  Chapter Two

  The Visitor

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs Colborne, ma’am, but you’ve a gentleman caller asking to see you.’

  It was mid-afternoon and Kate was in the drawing room, seated across from where Naomi was reclined upon the chaise longue.

  ‘A visitor, Mrs Bratton? For me?’ At such unexpected news, Naomi swung her legs smartly down to the floor. When she then pushed her feet into her shoes, Kate quickly arose from her own seat and bent to fasten them for her.

  ‘Ordinary times, ma’am, I wouldn’t have admitted anyone,’ Mabel Bratton went on, ‘but it’s Lieutenant Colborne – Lieutenant Aubrey Colborne, perhaps I ought more properly say.’

  At the mention of Aubrey, Kate felt her pulse quicken, a glance to Naomi’s face suggesting that she was similarly astonished.

  ‘Aubrey? Good heavens. What on earth is he doing all the way down here?’

  Yes, Kate thought, raising herself back to her feet, what on earth could have brought him back to Woodicombe? Hopefully it wouldn’t turn out to be distressing news from the front.

  ‘He didn’t say, ma’am,’ Mabel Bratton replied. ‘He just announced himself and asked whether you would receive him.’

  Without meaning to, Kate frowned. What an odd thing.

  ‘Goodness,’ Naomi remarked. ‘Does he look… well, does he look at all upset?’

  She held her breath. Please say no, she willed.

  ‘No, ma’am, I wouldn’t rightly say that he does.’

  She exhaled. God be praised for small mercies at least.

  ‘One might safely presume, then,’ Naomi remarked, ‘that he isn’t bearing bad news.’

  ‘From the look of him, I wouldn’t say that he is, ma’am, no.’

  ‘Very well. Thank you, Mrs Bratton. Show him in to… well, actually, no, ask him to wait where he is for a moment and I’ll send Kate for him when I’m ready. Kate, pass me my wrap, would you? And tell me, do I look presentable – fit to receive a guest? Or ought I to go and freshen up?’

  Reaching for Naomi’s angora shawl, Kate shook her head. ‘No, ma’am, you look just fine.’

  ‘You don’t think I need a touch of rouge, or a little more colour to my lips? Or to run a comb through the front of my hair?’

  Again, she shook her head. ‘For Mr Aubrey, ma’am? No, I wouldn’t say so.’

  ‘Only, when I dressed this morning, it wasn’t on the expectation that I would be receiving anyone.’

  In the knowledge that Naomi wouldn’t be satisfied otherwise, she affected an examination of her appearance: her glossy dark tresses sat where she had pinned them earlier into a pile of soft loose curls, low at the back of her head; her ivory complexion gave no evidence of having developed even the hint of a shine; her lips still exhibited a light coat of her favourite Parisian Pink. In other words, she looked nothing other than entirely acceptable. ‘Truly, ma’am,’ she said, her supposed inspection complete, ‘you look just fine.’

  ‘Hm. Well, if you think I look all right…’

  Oh, do come on, she longed to chide, her patience wearing thin. Surely you must be as desperate as I am to learn what brings your brother-in-law all
the way down here! When Naomi still didn’t seem convinced, though, rather than let her impatience show, she distracted herself by tidying up. She closed the copy of Tatler Naomi had abandoned on the sofa and slipped it onto the shelf beneath the side table; she plumped the cushions where she had been sitting. Then, with a quick glance about the room and unable to bear it any longer, she asked, ‘Shall I go and fetch him in then?’

  Seemingly still uncertain, Naomi ran a hand over her hair. ‘I suppose you had better. And then, if you would, pop down and see whether Edith can rustle up some cake and a pot of tea. And Kate…’

  Having started towards the door, Kate turned back. ‘Yes, ma’am?’

  ‘When you’ve done that, I should like you to go and sit over there by the window – to start with, at least. While I’ve no reason to expect any unpleasantness from him, I should prefer not to be left alone in his company until it’s clear why he’s here.’

  She nodded her understanding. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘And needless to say, not a word in front of him about the baby.’

  ‘Of course not, ma’am.’

  In the hallway, Kate found Aubrey Colborne standing looking out through the porch, a kitbag at his feet. Please don’t let him be bearing bad news, she pleaded yet again, taking in the back of his military uniform. And please don’t let him have come to cause trouble, either, she willed, conscious that this time, they would have no easy way to summon help, should it prove necessary.

  Steeling herself against what felt to be all possible eventualities, she went towards him. But when, evidently hearing her approach, he turned to face her, she stopped dead. Around his neck was a sling. And in it was his left arm. Oh, dear God, Mr Aubrey was wounded!

  ‘Ah, good afternoon,’ he greeted her. ‘Kate, isn’t it?’

  Still reeling from discovering that he was injured, she drew a breath and tried to smile back at him. ‘Yes, sir,’ she said, thrown further by the unexpectedly cheery nature of his address. ‘Good afternoon to you. Mrs Colborne is… um… in the drawing room. Please, won’t you come through?’

  When she gestured across the hallway, he went on ahead of her, his long stride necessitating that she scurry to keep up. The very instant he was through the door, though, she slipped away, her heart thudding. If Mr Aubrey – an officer no less – could become injured, then what chance was there for… No! She wouldn’t think such things. That Mr Aubrey had been wounded was no reason for her to fear for Luke. After all, who knew what the man had been doing to get hurt? He always had struck her as hot-headed and so, it was altogether possible that through sheer recklessness he had brought the misfortune upon himself. More than possible. Luke, on the other hand, was seldom reckless – certainly not where matters of a serious nature were concerned. But, if that was so, then why was her heart racing? And why did she feel so beset by fear? Because she was being foolish, that was why. There was no call for panic. None whatsoever.

  Nevertheless, when she arrived in the kitchen, she still felt uncomfortably hot and flustered, a situation not helped by the fact that Mabel had obviously already imparted the news to Edith, since, when she looked up from slicing the remains of the Dundee cake, her expression was doom-laden.

  ‘So Mr Aubrey’s been wounded.’ Goodness, how lurid, the woman’s fascination with all things morbid! ‘Lord, there’s a worry an’ no mistake. Must have set you to fearing for what might have happened to—’

  ‘That Lieutenant Colborne has been injured is of no concern to me,’ she said quickly, cutting short Edith’s doom-mongering. For heaven’s sake, why did the woman always have to be so quick to pick over someone else’s misfortune and fan the flames of their fear? Well, this afternoon, she was in no mood for it: she would pay her no heed. Better still, she would put the woman straight. ‘Mr Aubrey’s being wounded has no bearing on Luke and his well-being.’

  ‘Happen not,’ Edith did at least concede, starting to arrange the slices of cake on a serving plate. ‘But it must have set you to wondering – you know, whether the same fate mightn’t befall him…’

  From across the kitchen, Mabel Bratton came to place a hand on her daughter’s arm. ‘Edith, dear,’ she said, ‘I’m sure there’s no need to go spreading alarm. Just because Mr Aubrey has been injured needn’t make us fear for her Luke.’

  With her hands clenched tightly, Kate nodded. ‘Precisely,’ she said. ‘For a start, Luke’s not on the front line. He’s a driver. He ferries supplies and despatches. In fact, when he was home on leave, January past, he took great pains to explain to me that rarely is he dreckly in harm’s way.’

  ‘Only saying how it must have seemed,’ Edith said. ‘That’s all.’

  Gritting her teeth, Kate snatched up the tea tray. ‘Well, don’t say how it must have seemed,’ she said. ‘In fact, when it comes to Luke, don’t say anything at all, especially since, as usual, you’re speaking of summat you know nothing about.’ And making me think thoughts I’d rather not have!

  Turning stiffly towards the door, she caught sight of Mabel, the look on her face one that seemed to urge her to take no notice. Well, that was precisely what she intended. Exasperating though Edith’s behaviour was, she would ignore her. Her own conscience was clear – she had done as Naomi had suggested and extended an olive branch. That Edith had now chosen to trample all over it was down to her.

  Resolving to try not to let it get to her, she made her way back upstairs to the drawing room, arriving at the door to overhear a conversation going on within. Adjusting the weight of the tray on her arm, she paused to listen. Aubrey was speaking.

  ‘Actually, I should say I was annoyed more than anything,’ she heard him remark. ‘Taken by surprise. Fine one moment, felled the next. Won’t let it keep me out of action for long, though. Not a chance. No, it’s going to need rather more than one lousy bullet from the Hun to keep me from doing my duty.’

  Hearing him apparently able to make light of having been wounded, she felt the tension in her shoulders begin to ease. If he could speak so easily of what had happened, then surely it couldn’t have been anything truly awful, could it?

  ‘Ah, Kate, thank you,’ Naomi greeted her as she tapped on the door and went into the room. ‘Set it down here, if you will.’ Turning back to Aubrey, she went on, ‘I assumed you wouldn’t decline refreshments.’

  ‘Much appreciated. Utterly gasping as it happens.’

  The tray safely on the table, Kate did as Naomi had instructed earlier and went to sit by the window; if Mr Aubrey thought it odd, he didn’t comment. And then, with the sound of tea being poured into cups, she directed her eyes out to the gardens. It was a pleasant spring afternoon, the lawn refreshed to a dazzling emerald by the morning’s showers, the pale-pink tulips in the border bejewelled by the very rain responsible for their state of dishevelment. In the mulch beneath their fleshy leaves, she spotted a male blackbird poking about, the fat worm trailing from its bill no doubt destined as sustenance for its mate. Somewhere in the shrubbery, she would be hatching a clutch of glossy blue-green eggs.

  ‘Called at Hartland Street first, of course,’ she overheard Aubrey continue. ‘Couldn’t have been more surprised to find that you were back down here. Knew nothing of your father buying the place until Aunt Pamela mentioned it. Didn’t even know Sidney Latimer was selling up.’

  ‘You saw Mamma?’

  ‘Went straight there when I found Hartland Street empty.’

  ‘And she told you about Uncle Sidney?’

  ‘Hinted at straitened circumstances, that’s all. Said you had come down to see to the packing up and what-not. Gave me to understand that your father hadn’t been well.’

  She heard Naomi sigh. ‘Sadly, no. About a month ago, he simply collapsed to the floor. His physician attributed it to apoplexy and, much to Papa’s displeasure, prescribed bed rest and a plain diet. Needless to say, complying with both made him unbearably grouchy. He continues to improve by the day, though, I’m glad to say.’

  ‘Relieved to hear i
t.’

  When the conversation paused, Kate looked across to see the two of them sipping their tea.

  ‘Tell me,’ Naomi began again a moment later, lowering her cup to its saucer and placing it back on the table, ‘have you seen Lawrence? Or heard from him at all?’

  From her position at the far side of the room, Kate held her breath. If Mr Aubrey had seen Mr Lawrence, he might also have news of Luke. After all, if he had no news of either of them, why was he here?

  ‘Not in a while, no. But don’t look at me like that. Just because there’s been no word from him in a while is no reason for you to be concerned. Fighting a war requires that men and machinery be continually on the move. At little more than a moment’s notice, a platoon can be reassigned, a whole battalion relocated. Indeed, it’s not unheard of for entire divisions to either be joined together or split apart. Arrive somewhere new and the first thing one gets asked is whether one has seen so-and-so, or knows the whereabouts of such and such fellow. Almost to a man, every soldier over there is trying to find out news of a brother or a pal or a cousin.’

  On the window seat, Kate held back a sigh of disappointment; seemingly then, there was to be no news of Luke. The picture of him she carried in her mind – and to which she clung dearly – had him looking sharp and handsome in his uniform, his slightly crooked front teeth bared as he stood laughing and joking with Mr Lawrence, his cap under his arm and his newly cut sandy hair glinting in the sunshine. From Mr Aubrey’s telling of events though, the war sounded a very different business to the one in her head, pictures now forming of men on endless marches and soldiers desperate for news of relatives. In a bid to banish them – after all, it did no good to dwell – she stared back out through the window. Keeping low to the lawn, the blackbird was now heading towards the shrubbery, the staccato beating of its wings seeming barely sufficient to keep it aloft. To her dismay, though, the images of the distressed soldiers persisted. In a bid to will them away, she reminded herself of what Pa Channer had said to her only the other day, which was that no news was good news; the time for worry – and the only time for worry – was when the telegram boy came cycling up the lane.