Until We Meet Again Read online

  ‘I’m anxious there will be war,’ he told her suddenly. ‘I had thought Parliament would do everything to avoid it, but now there seems a real chance it will happen. Tonight they’ll decide.’

  ‘The very thought is horrible.’

  ‘Unfortunately some young men seem to regard the prospect as a great opportunity for adventure.’

  ‘That’s not what Uncle said in his sermon yesterday.’ She had seen Edmond there with his family in their pew, listening to the sermon about the futility of a European war. Peacemakers were blessed, Uncle had said.

  ‘The politicians think differently.’ Edmond sounded reluctant to accept war but his eyes were bright with interest at the new situation. ‘The Germans are threatening Belgium’s neutrality and we have a treaty with them. People say there could be a brief, decisive campaign.’

  She struggled to comprehend how they had got into such a position.

  ‘Our military are very confident we can defeat the Kaiser and his men,’ Edmond went on. ‘Colonel Fairlawn came to dinner last week and he reminded us of our supremacy. We were always being taught at school about the Boer war and the great triumphs in Victorian times.’

  The mention of Colonel Fairlawn made her flinch, and for a moment she was even distracted from the prospect of war. So Edmond’s family were on friendly terms with him. Whatever would they think, and what would Edmond think, if they knew she had been involved in the damage to the cricket pavilion? She could not find a way to ask if there were any developments without arousing his curiosity at her interest.

  She knew there were plans to erase the slogans in green paint inside and outside, but for the moment they remained, and she had to suppress a smile at their constant reminder of the Suffrage movement.

  They rounded a gentle bend in the brook to an area where the foliage was thick. Edmond stopped and put his arm about her. ‘You’re so lovely, Amy,’ he said. No-one else was in sight. Gently he tipped her face towards him. ‘May I kiss you?’

  She smiled in anticipation. Then his soft, warm lips brushed hers. The kiss was sweet, gentle and gallant. A warm glow swept over her.

  He took her hand in his larger one and led her further along the brook.

  ‘One day I’d like to take you for a walk on the high land near our forest,’ he told her. ‘There’s a splendid view.’

  ‘Father took us up there a few times, though of course we kept to the path, outside your land. I remember looking right across the village.’ The Derwents owned the forest and made their money from the timber. She recalled seeing horses pulling wagons of tree trunks. ‘It must be lovely up there in autumn, when the trees round the village are changing colour.’

  But he’d be back at university by then, she realised at once. Probably he would lose interest in her. It would be easier if she could care for one of the other young men she knew, but now she had met Edmond, no-one could compare with him. It was not just his wealthy, privileged background that appealed, as Mother expected people to suppose. He was intelligent, and a merry companion. He was handsome, too, and his kiss had thrilled her, and surely she was not deluding herself when she imagined he returned her affection.

  Already they were turning back towards her house. She slowed her pace, wanting the magic to go on for as long as possible. If only she could live in this afternoon for ever.

  * * *

  The next day it was official: Britain had joined the European war. The existing army was mobilised and young men were encouraged to join up. Outwardly their lives carried on as normal and at first it felt as if they could ignore the new development, as though it was unreal. But soon the village was buzzing with accounts of two young men who had rushed to join up.

  The fête held by Edmond’s family each year at The Beeches was going ahead as usual but would now include fundraising for the war effort.

  Amy went along to the event with her family. Edmond would be there, of course, and she wondered if he would acknowledge her as a friend, in front of his family.

  She put on her best summer dress of white lawn with a delicate pattern of pink flowers. She was thankful for her new straw hat with the artificial flowers, anxious to avoid being seen in the one she had been wearing when they had damaged the pavilion.

  As they joined other villagers walking up the avenue of beech trees towards the great house, she could hear the hubbub of voices and ragtime music from the bandstand. When they reached the wide lawn there were clusters of people around booths supporting various charitable causes, and, she soon realised, the war effort.

  ‘Look! They’ve set up a recruiting station!’ Bertie exclaimed, hurrying over in that direction.

  ‘Oh, no, Bertie!’ Mother protested as they all rushed after him.

  She too felt alarmed. Then, as they approached the booth, gaudily festooned in Union Jacks, she flinched at the sight of Colonel Fairlawn, imposing in his uniform. Young army officers were standing with him.

  ‘Hello, John,’ Bertie greeted a friend from school who was already in the khaki uniform. Amy remembered that John Spencer had joined the army in peace time, when he left school.

  ‘Hello, Bertie. It’s very exciting – we expect to be sent to Flanders soon. You planning to join up?’

  Amy noticed a private, who was handing pen and paper to any young men who could be persuaded to enlist.

  The colonel was red-faced with a bristling moustache. ‘Young man?’ he accosted Bertie. ‘I daresay you’re ready to serve your country.’

  Bertie looked as though he was considering the opportunity.

  ‘See here, this is my son Wilfrid.’ The colonel indicated the very tall young man who stood rigidly with a cane beneath his arm. ‘The army’s his life.’

  ‘I’m longing for the adventure of war,’ Wilfrid told them. ‘I can’t wait for my unit to be mobilised.’

  Bertie shuffled from one foot to the other.

  ‘What’s your occupation?’ the colonel asked Bertie.

  ‘Junior accountant, Sir.’

  ‘And where did you go to school?’

  Bertie mentioned the high school.

  ‘Possible officer material,’ approved the colonel.

  Amy noticed Wilfrid staring at her in a manner which was less than gallant. She looked in the opposite direction.

  Other young men were crowding round the booth now.

  ‘I’ll think it over,’ Bertie managed.

  ‘Don’t leave it too long to take the King’s shilling,’ the colonel said. ‘It could all be over by the end of the year. There’s a recruiting office opening in Wealdham.’

  ‘Hey, Colonel,’ came the voice of an older man. ‘Have you found who defaced the pavilion yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ he replied, to Amy’s relief. ‘But I’m not going to let that go unpunished, believe me.’

  Bertie was drifting away from the booth now.

  ‘Really, Bertie, have more sense than to join up!’ Mother said, smart in her summer suit and flowered hat. ‘There’ll be horrible casualties. Miss Miller next door lost her fiancé in the South African conflict. You’ve got an important career to follow.’

  ‘Don’t do it, Bertie,’ Amy begged.

  ‘But shouldn’t I serve my country? It seems the decent thing to do.’ His face was animated as he considered the possibility.

  ‘Don’t rush into it, Son,’ Father said, as they made for the next group of stalls.

  Amy caught sight of Wilfrid, the colonel’s son, striding across the grass towards them. She had an uneasy feeling that he might try to engage her in conversation and clung to her mother’s side.

  Then suddenly Edmond appeared, raising his boater. ‘Amy! Mr and Mrs Fletcher! Let me find you some refreshments. And you, Bertie.’

  Amy let him take her hand and the others followed them across the lawn. This large lower lawn was given over to the fête, but beyond she could see the upper lawn, flower beds, a greenhouse and in the distance, what looked like a kitchen garden, around the substantial stone house.


  ‘Most of our gardens are here, in front of the house, facing south,’ Edmond told her. Mature beech trees lined the drive, but beyond the house she could see the land rising towards the forest, consisting mainly of conifers.

  Amy was aware of neighbours watching as they passed the tables of refreshments provided for villagers attending the fête. Miss Miller was there in a rather plain summer costume, her greying hair swept up beneath her floral hat, staring as Edmond led them towards the area occupied by the Derwent family and close friends. Ahead were his parents and sister.

  ‘Ma, Pa – you remember Mr Fletcher, don’t you? He’s here with his family.’

  Mr Derwent, Edmond’s father, raised his hat courteously to the ladies and shook hands with Amy’s father. His wife, dressed in a summer suit trimmed with lace and an elaborate hat, nodded distantly and stared at Amy, whose hand was still in Edmond’s. Beatrice was elegantly dressed and one of the loveliest girls Amy knew, with curls of chestnut hair showing below her hat. Her face was as dainty as that of a china doll, though unsmiling.

  ‘How is Peter liking India?’ Amy’s father asked Mr Derwent.

  Edmond’s father was tall and self-possessed, with a pleasant smile. ‘He still enjoys it and intends to make his career there,’ he replied, ‘though we all miss him.’

  The men continued talking for a while, for Mr Derwent still seemed to value her father’s contribution to the boys’ education. Soon Edmond led Amy and Bertie further away from the fête.

  A man with grey hair, who Amy took to be the butler, hovered beside the steps to the upper lawn as Edmond led them up to an area with some tables and wicker chairs, near a bank of pink hydrangeas. Edmond called to a maid and ordered them some tea and cakes. As they all sat down he chatted to them comfortably.

  In the distance Amy could still see the other members of Edmond’s family. Wilfrid Fairlawn swaggered towards the group and began talking to Beatrice. She seemed content with the attentions of the colonel’s son.

  ‘Have you seen the recruiting station?’ Amy asked Edmond as the tea arrived and the maid poured cups for them all. ‘They were trying to persuade Bertie to join up.’

  ‘And will you do so?’ Edmond asked him.

  ‘I haven’t decided yet.’ Bertie reached for a slice of Battenberg cake.

  Amy drank down her tea thirstily. ‘Try to keep out of their clutches, Edmond,’ she said a little playfully.

  ‘I’ve already seen them,’ he said. ‘I’ve joined up.’

  She set down her cup with a clatter, feeling the blood drain from her face.

  ‘It seemed the right thing to do,’ he told her. ‘I’m prepared to march into war for a just cause.’

  ‘It makes me think of King Arthur and his knights, defending the oppressed,’ said Bertie.

  She was dismayed by their views. They continued with some more small talk, but the afternoon was ruined.

  ‘Come and take a look at our south garden,’ Edmond invited her. ‘The roses on the pergola are very fine this year.’

  She got up and followed him. He took her hand again.

  ‘Why did you do it, Edmond?’ she demanded. ‘Why do you have to go and fight?’ Apprehension had not engulfed her this way when Bertie had talked of joining up.

  ‘I see it as my duty. We’ve got an enemy.’ He turned to her with a serious expression in his blue eyes. ‘They’ve invaded Belgium. Have you heard about all the refugees arriving here?’

  ‘Yes, but – other men can fight. You’ve got your place at university – you should take advantage of the opportunity to study.’

  ‘I believe I can defer my place and continue at university next year when the war is over,’ he told her.

  Only the sweet perfume drew her attention to the roses when they reached the south garden. Other select visitors were admiring the flourishing blooms but Amy’s mind was elsewhere.

  ‘When will you have to leave?’

  ‘I’m going to start officer training very shortly. It’ll be a few months before they send me to Flanders.’

  A few months, she thought. Please God, the war might be over by then.

  The usual captivating smile returned to his face. ‘It’ll be all right, Amy. I promise I’ll write to you.’

  Chapter Four

  Wealdham, October and November 1914

  ‘So you see, Amy, we’ll have to suspend the struggle while the war lasts,’ Lavinia told her on the train one morning.

  ‘I suppose so,’ she said, unwilling to admit her relief. She hoped the war might distract Colonel Fairlawn from his urgent search for the perpetrators of the damage to the pavilion. She was anxious to avoid any similar activity for the foreseeable future.

  Two young men in privates’ uniform sat opposite them, presumably on their way to a training centre, or to London to join a troop train. Raindrops were running down the outside of the windows.

  ‘It seems unpatriotic now to challenge the government,’ Lavinia explained. ‘The Suffragists, our sisters who oppose any kind of civil disobedience, are involved in helping the Belgian refugees. Have you heard Florence is helping with the project in Wealdham?’

  ‘Yes.’ Amy was impressed with her friend’s commitment. She must find it tiring, helping there as well as training to be a teacher.

  ‘Some of the Belgians are practically destitute when they arrive. Our women are knitting socks and gloves for them, and collecting second-hand clothes in good condition. Now the weather’s turning colder Florence wants us to set up soup kitchens.’

  ‘I’m sure I can help with that,’ she said, resolving to play her part.

  ‘And we can look out for any meaningful activity we can do to support the war effort. It gives us the chance to prove we’re more than fluffy-headed creatures who can’t be trusted to make responsible decisions.’

  ‘That makes sense.’ Now that Edmond had signed up, it was important that she found some role too.

  ‘They’re planning to enrol young women into nursing organisations, like the Voluntary Aid Detachment. They may even be sent to casualty clearing stations abroad, near the fighting. I plan to find out about it. I might enrol.’ There was a sparkle of excitement in her dark eyes.

  It was bound to interest Lavinia, Amy thought, since her father was a surgeon.

  ‘Nursing! That would be so worthwhile.’ Already, shockingly, there were reports of young men being killed or injured in Flanders. ‘Do you imagine it’d be difficult? I know nothing about medicine.’

  ‘I suppose I’ll find out if I enrol. They won’t let anyone near wounded soldiers who doesn’t have some aptitude for the work. You might consider it, but office work is important too, now young men are leaving for the Front.’

  ‘Let me know if you find out any more about it.’ As they approached their station she got up and buttoned her coat.

  ‘We must play what part we can in the war. When it’s all over we can go back to promoting our cause again.’

  ‘Yes – we must do that.’ Now Edmond was involved, Amy felt that ultimately the cause was worthy and she should make some contribution.

  They got out at Wealdham. Advancing along the street towards them was a column of soldiers, marching briskly through the drizzle. There was a pride about them, a sense of destiny. She watched them march past, keeping in time, arms swinging jauntily, towards the station, and could not help feeling admiration.

  * * *

  Edmond’s training was taking place some twenty miles away and before long she received a letter from him. The discipline is hard, he wrote, really it’s like being back at school again. We have parades and training in the use of arms. There was a paragraph at the end when he reminded her of their recent meetings with a tenderness which touched her. I’m longing to see you again, he said.

  Before long he had weekend leave. On the Sunday he called at her house, smart in his khaki officer’s uniform, and bearing a bunch of pink roses for her. Bertie began to bombard him with questions about his training.

&
nbsp; ‘You soon find comrades there,’ Edmond said. ‘I knew some of the others at school.’

  She put the sweet-smelling flowers in water, then set off with him for a walk. ‘Let’s go uphill towards the forest,’ he said. As they went along the High Street passers-by turned to admire him in his uniform, and she attracted some glances too. They walked to the edge of his family’s land and took the path along the perimeter. To begin with, it was muddy and he held on to her arm so she should not slip over. The path became steeper as they skirted The Beeches. The leaves were turning golden on the birch trees which grew along there, but ahead the commercial plantation remained green as the trees were mostly conifers.

  She listened to his account of his new life, trying to gauge how soon his unit might be sent abroad, but it seemed there was no imminent danger of that as he needed to complete his training first. When she thought of the casualties, she could not help hoping the war would come to an end before he could be sent abroad. She read Father’s newspaper most days to follow the progress of the war, and had learnt of the rival armies forming an extended front across much of Belgium and northern France. Sometimes there was talk of a breakthrough, but on other days it seemed the British were barely holding their position.

  ‘A lot of the men want to be part of the cavalry,’ Edmond was telling her. ‘It’s enjoyable, exercising and parading on the horses, but I’m not sure they’re appropriate for modern day warfare.’

  They reached the steepest part of the path and paused as she became a little breathless. There were few people to see them together up there. He took her in his arms and kissed her. His kisses were more lingering now.

  ‘You’re such a sweet girl,’ he said. ‘I’m so thankful I met you again. I hope the war doesn’t part us for too long.’