i 69ef9ff463a71164 (24 page)

been coming out of the church gate at that moment.

But he must have reassured himself, for from the moment the child was born he claimed her as his own.

She called now from the window, "Stephen! Veronica! Come along, time to have your bath. Come along now."

"Oh, Mummy!" Stephen turned his eyes towards her.

"Just five minutes."

Not waiting for her answer he looked up at Donald and asked, "Just five minutes, can't I, Daddy?"

Donald straightened his back and, placing a hand on his hip, he turned round and called, "Just five minutes."

"Goody. Goody, goody, goody." The two children began digging furiously with their small spades, and Grace grated her teeth against each other for a second. This was the pattern. Wonderful Daddy, wonderful Uncle Donald, able to get them five minutes by just saying the word. And he could get them chocolates when nobody else could get them chocolates.

He would read them stories when nobody else had time to read them stories. He could take all fear of the nasty aeroplanes away from them by simply saying, "Kneel now and say " I am in God's hands. No nasty bombs will fall near me. The Good Shepherd is protecting me and no harm can come to me"." Wonderful psychology that turned a man into a god, a god that granted your every wish and had the power to make others do the same. But Andrew was coming tonight or tomorrow.

She would see Andrew. If it was only for five minutes she would see Andrew, and things would balance themselves for a time. It was only when she saw him that she seemed to be able to see straight; when she needed comfort she could not even go upstairs and read his letters, for they were all at Aggie's. His last letter had said, "On my next leave I'm going to tell my mother, although I've an idea she knows something already. Before the war I thought that nothing could make me leave her to the mercy of my father, but you see I've just had to, and she will be the first to see that my duty lies elsewhere now. The war can't go on for ever, so we must face up to things together. The sacrifice will be on your part as always. I love you, you are never out of my mind, I worship you, and as long as I live that's how it will be. Grace."

She asked herself for the countless time since receiving that letter what he actually meant by sacrifice. Did he mean leaving the children with Donald? No, he couldn't mean that, he wouldn't want her to do that. No, he meant the sacrifice other good name, for there would be no such thing as divorce. Or would there? Views were changing even in the Church. High Church people were getting divorces. But if she was divorced Donald might lay claim to the children . he would be the offended party. Yet if she went into court and told the truth .

Court. Go into court and say that Donald . No! No! She could not expose him like that. Her head began to whirl as it often did these days, the words racing round one after the other. She must keep calm .

keep all her wits about her, that could wait, Andrew could be here at any minute.

The convoy stopped in the village at twelve o'clock the following day.

It comprised twenty-five lorries laden high with irregular shapes over which tarpaulins were tightly drawn. Besides the twenty-five drivers there were nineteen other men, two corporals and two sergeants, of whom Andrew Maclntyre was one, a first lieutenant and a captain. The convoy had been on the move since six that morning. They were to have an hour's halt.

Andrew had taken the hill towards the vicarage at a gallop and only pulled himself to a stop when he entered the drive. When he knocked on the kitchen door and it was opened by Peggy Mather he gave a start of surprise

and then stared at her for a moment. He had seen that face before, and he suddenly remembered where. But that was of no importance at the moment. He asked quickly, "Is the vicar in?"

Peggy Mather looked at him, not only at his face but taking him all in, and it was evident that she liked what she saw, for she smiled and said, "No. Can I do anything for you?"

"Is Mrs. Rouse in?"

"Yes, she's somewhere about; she was in the garden a minute ago." As she stepped out from the kitchen to look along the path. Grace came round the corner, and after only a slight hesitation in her step she came forward and held out her hand, and Andrew took it.

"How are you, Andrew?"

"Very well." He turned round and nodded towards the maid before moving off on to the drive with the vicar's wife, and slowly they walked towards the main gate again.

They did not walk close and they talked generally, Andrew telling her where they were parked in the village and the length of time they were allowed to stay. And then at the gate, turning and facing her squarely, he murmured low and thickly, "Oh, I want you in me arms. Oh, Grace."

She was staring up at him, no veil on her feelings now.

"You really must be gone in an hour?"

"Yes, I'm going to dash up home. I won't be more than fifteen minutes.

Can you be there? "

"Yes, I'll be there."

"Oh, God! Grace!" He still stood.

"It seems years since I saw you .. touched you."

"Go now. Quick. Fifteen minutes, I'll be there."

Before turning into the drive again, she watched him sprint up the road. Her head was quite clear, and she made it her business to go through the kitchen before crossing the hall and out into the garden by the drawing- room window. She also looked in at the sand-pit where the three children were busily constructing a castle. She did not speak to them or disturb them, but went hurriedly down the garden, past the greenhouses and out through the bottom door. She kept her pace steady until she entered the wood, and then she began to run. She crossed over the stone road and went on upwards in the direction of the cottage. Their new rendezvous was a clump of shrubbery some way from the path. It was a place that any couple might have used, but never before had they been there except in the dark, but this was no time for discretion. In little over half an hour he would be gone.

It was doubtful whether the presence of Donald himself could have kept them apart at this time. For it came to her as she stood waiting in the shelter of the thicket that there was an urgency about this convoy that portended long separation, not just weeks, but months, even years.

Perhaps for ever. What if Andrew went away this time and never came back. She heard his feet racing down the path. The next minute he was before her and they were holding each other as if attempting to exchange their bodies.

"Oh, my darling'! Oh, Grace, Grace! Let me look at you." He held her face between his hands. His eyes seemed to lift each feature separately into the storehouse of his mind. Then he shook his head slowly.

"They talk about their women. Oh my God, but it sickens you.

They've got women, but I've got . you. "

"Oh, Andrew. Oh, Andrew."

"Don't cry, darling. Don't cry. It won't be for long. It can't be, and then we'll be together, you understand together."

Before her lips could part to speak, his mouth was on hers again and they swayed drunkenly for a moment until, without breaking their hold, they lowered themselves to the ground. The bliss was still on them as they stood folded quietly together, and it was in their last kiss, soft and tender, that they were wrenched apart by a harsh, grating voice exclaiming with awful condemnation, "God Almighty!"

Grace stared open-mouthed with shock and fear at Mr. Maclntyre where he stood supporting himself by two sticks not more than three yards'

distance from them.

"Why you dirty sod! To think that a son of mine ... And the parson's wife. God Almighty!" He raised his stick.

"Get out! Get to hell away . out of it!"

Andrew had pushed Grace behind him and his voice was ominously low as he growled, "Be careful what you're saying or else I'm liable to forget who you are."

"Dashed in just to see your mother, did you?" The old man's eyes seemed to gleam red.

"Does she know about your fancy wife?"

"I've warned you, mind."

"Warned me?" The old man was shouting now at the top of his voice.

"Well, let me warn you, you bloody upstart.... Show your face in my door again and I'll brain you. So help me God! As for her, the dirty faggot, and a parson's wife ... Huh!"

Grace flung her arms upwards, straining at Andrew's uplifted hand.

"No! No! Andrew! No ... I Oh no!"

"Get out of me sight."

"Out of your sight? Aye, I will that, I'll get out of your sight, me cock-o'-the-midden." The old man was thrusting forward with one of his sticks now, emphasising his words.

"I'll get out of your sight and into that English ranter's afore I'm five minutes older. And it isn't the day or yesterday I'll tell him that this started;

I've had me suspicions. Her slinking about the road. Aye, I'll away.

"

Still clinging to Andrew's arm. Grace watched the old man turn and hobble drunkenly through the trees with an erratic agility that belied the fact that he was utterly crippled with arthritis.

"Oh, Andrew, Andrew, he'll tell him."

"Yes, he'll tell him." Andrew's voice was flat.

"He's been wanting something on me for years, to hit at my mother with, and now he's got it, God blast him! But it's no use trying to stop him short of shooting him. He'll tell him."

He turned his face slowly from his father's disappearing figure and looked at Grace, and after a moment he said, "Perhaps it's for the best, for neither of us would have had the heart to bring it into the open. I've always known it, even when I wrote that letter. First it would have been the children, and then not wanting to hurt him.

Perhaps, after all, this is the best way, a clean cut. One way or another you will be free now. But, oh God! " He bared his teeth and jerked his head, " If only I had a day or two and hadn't got to leave you to face this alone. " He rubbed his hand swiftly around his face, and then asked, " What will you do? Go to Aunt Aggie? "

Grace shook her head dazedly.

"Yes, yes. I suppose so.... Oh, Andrew, I don't know where I am. It's all happened so suddenly. Somehow I can't believe it ... and at the last moment like this."

"Look, Grace... Oh, dearest, don't look like that.... Oh God, if only I had another hour or so. As it is, I'll have to dash back and tell my mother." He caught her to him and kissed her hard and quickly once more, then, taking her by the hand he ran with her through the wood upwards towards the cottage.

Mrs. Maclntyre was standing on the road, it was as if she had been looking over the fells in the direction her son would shortly be moving along the main road. Her face was tear-stained, and it was evident that she had been crying bitterly, for her voice broke as she exclaimed, "Oh, boy, what is it?"

"Dad ... he found us together. He's gone down to the vicar."

"In the name of God, no ... I Oh, why didn't you stop him?"

"Stop him? How could I? If he hadn't told him today he would have told him the morrow. You know yourself he's been waiting for something like this for years."

Mrs. Maclntyre was not looking at her son now, but at Grace, and now she exclaimed in a gabble, "He mustn't, he mustn't tell him.... The children. Have you thought of the children, and Andrew not here to take your part? You cannot stand alone."

Grace could find no words to answer this and Andrew cried, "But how can you stop him. Mother? Anyway ... look at the time, I've got to go.

It's no use."

"I'll stop him, I can stop him."

"You? Don't be silly. Mother."

"I can." She was standing straight and tall facing him, yet already poised for flight.

"I have one hold over him. He's terrified at me leaving him." Before she had finished speaking she was off round the corner of the house, flying down the path to the wood. All at once Grace became quite still inside. During the past shock-filled moments she had been strangely afraid of Donald knowing.

Now she thought: it's as Andrew says, it'll be a clean cut. They never would have been able to do it. If Mr. Maclntyre reached Donald before Mrs. Maclntyre caught him, well, that would be that, she would face up to it and get it over and thank God. Yes, thank God.

It was as she thought thus that the air-raid siren sounded and she gave a startled gasp and exclaimed, The children! "

They were running down through the wood again. When they reached the quarry road they branched off, and in a few minutes he had lifted her over the ditch and they were out of the wood and tearing down the main road towards the curve that would bring them in view of the vicarage gates. But before they reached it the plane soared over them and they actually saw it drop its bomb.

Within a split second Grace found herself picked up bodily and thrown in the ditch, and when Andrew dropped on top of her, the earth heaved and trembled as it had not done in the village since the night of the big raid.

"Oh, Andrew! Andrew! The children! The house!" Her mouth was full of dirt.

"Wait ... wait, he's coming back." The plane soared over them again and then was gone. There was no more sound; it was as if it had been sent to deliver a message and had done so. Andrew rose and pulled her to her feet and they were running again, flying towards the curve in the road. When they rounded it they both stopped dead; side by side and close together they stood leaning forwards as if frozen in flight.

There was a haze of dust pouring upwards from a big hole in the road opposite to where the vicarage gate had been and on the verge of the road some way on this side of the hole lay a huddled form which Grace knew to be Mrs. Maclntyre.

Andrew had reached his mother before Grace had covered half the distance, and when she came up to them he had turned her over and was shouting, "Mother!

Mother! Mother! Mother! " There was a deep cut across her brow and blood was pouring over her face.

Grace, with her hand across her mouth, murmured, "Is she ... ?"

"No. She's alive." He wiped the blood swiftly and tenderly from her face, then cast his agitated gaze up at Grace as she gasped, "The children, Andrew, the children."