Authors: Emily Sharratt
Come Home Soon
With special thanks to Emma Young
Contents
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One
Ellie felt the plate slipping from her wet fingers and watched it bounce off the tiled floor and shatter into four jagged pieces. She froze for a moment, her eyes fixed on one of the china shards as it finally came to rest, glistening prettily against the dark-coloured floor.
Ellie unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth with an audible
tuck
and, at last, raised her eyes to her mother, who had been standing in the doorway.
“I'm sorry, Mother,” she began hastily, but she could see it was too late. Her mother's scowl was deepening by the second. Her cheeks were flushed dark red as though she'd been slapped.
“Did you do that deliberately?”
“No, of course nâ”
“Josephine,” Aunt Frances piped up from the table, her blue eyes wide, “it was clearly an accident.”
Ellie closed her eyes. She loved her aunt very much but speaking up for her only ever made matters worse.
“Thank you, Frances, I believe you have encouraged Eleanor quite enough.”
Aunt Frances dropped her chin and gazed at the floral tablecloth, her fingers sweeping at the crumbs that remained after breakfast. Ellie could see she was biting her tongue. The muscle in her jaw twitched with the effort.
“Mother, I'm sorry. It just slipped out of my fingers.”
“And why do you suppose that happened? You were too busy arguing with me, your head full of these ridiculous notions your aunt insists on feeding you. . .”
“No, that's not why. . .” Ellie burst out, then trailed off. She felt her face flushing. Her mother was
always
so angry with her, no matter what she did. . . But a quiet voice inside murmured that it was also true. She had been too rough as she picked up the plate, annoyed with her mother for interrupting her conversation with Aunt Frances. Annoyed â if she was honest with herself â that she was having to clear away the breakfast things in the first place. Her mother never did anything.
“Why must you always disagree with everything I say?” Mother continued. “You know it's true â I can see on your face. And you have only proved my point. Your best hope is to marry well, and for that you must learn to perform simple household tasks.
And
you must learn obedience. There is no use in making these grand and, frankly, ludicrous plans.”
Ellie felt a fresh wave of anger flood her, her guilt over the plate forgotten.
“But why? Why is finding a man my best hope? Look at Aunt Frances. She's made a success of her life without having to marry.”
Aunt Frances gave her an encouraging smile, but her mother was ready with her retort, her mouth twisted into something ugly and cruel-looking.
“And that is the sort of future you want for yourself, is it? Scrabbling for money as a bank clerk, living in poky digs in Brighton with no husband or children. . .”
“Mother!”
“It's all right, Ellie.” Aunt Frances's calm voice cut across the argument, and Ellie felt another great wave of love for her. “I assure you, Josephine, I'm very happy with my life and my choices. But I'm not suggesting that Ellie imitate them â what I'm saying to her is that she has any number of opportunities. . .”
“Oh, there you go again. You are doing the child no favours, Frances, merely setting her up for disappointment. And I'll thank you not to interfere in my conversation with my daughter. Your brother indulges her enough as it is.”
For someone who spent so much time in bed with mystery illnesses and bouts of nerves and energy loss, it was amazing how her mother could become so suddenly animated, Ellie mused. She longed to argue back, to suggest that her father encouraged her because he loved her and wanted to see her happy, not stuck in a house in tiny Endstone for the rest of her life, carrying out boring domestic tasks that she would never be good at, and breaking any number of plates! Father didn't believe there was only one life for girls. But she knew that her mother would never back down, never agree with her.
“Besides which, Eleanor,” Mother continued, her voice rising again as though she scented victory, “what makes you think you'd be happy in a profession such as your aunt's? You're the one constantly moaning about how boring you find school!”
Once again Ellie's resolve not to answer back wavered in the face of this injustice. “But, Mother, that's because all they teach us at school â well, us girls, at least â is how to knit and run a household. It's pointless, and you know how hopeless I am at knitting!”
“You consider your laziness and ineptitude some sort of excuse, do you? How precisely do you intend to feed and clothe yourself and your family without those skills?”
“But, I mean,
you
. . .” Ellie saw the dangerous look in her mother's eyes and trailed off again. No, it was not wise to point out how little Mother did around the house.
Her mother watched her for a moment, grey eyes level, waiting to see if she would dare to say more. Ellie kept her own gaze fixed on the floor, her jaw clenched tight, locking the words inside.
“I don't know what I did wrong with you, Eleanor, I really don't. Perhaps I haven't been firm enough. As it is, you're running wild. Don't look at me like that! What else am I supposed to think when you arrive home late looking like some sort of vagabond?”
“I told you what happened!” Ellie couldn't help herself. “I left my pocket watch at home because I didn't want to get it wet. And our boat drifted further in the current than we realized. And Jack saidâ”
“Yes,
Jack
,” her mother cut in, her nostrils flaring as though she had detected an unpleasant smell. “That good-for-nothing factory boy. How entirely unsurprising that he should be behind this latest misbehaviour.” Her mother had never approved of Ellie's friendship with Jack.
“It wasn'tâ”
“How you could imagine fishing is a suitable activity for a young lady is beyond me.”
Aunt Frances had been silent for some time now. Arguing came no more naturally to her than it did to Ellie. But now she raised her calm voice in Ellie's defence. “Well, I think fishing is a perfectly wholesome activity. Fresh air, nature. . . And last night's fish was delicious.”
Ellie's shoulders slumped. She hadn't told her mother where the fish had come from. When Alice, their maid, had still worked for them, Ellie had often brought back fish from her expeditions for her to cook. Now that they'd had to let Alice go, it had become harder to smuggle it in. She'd thought she'd got away with it on this occasion, but one glance at her mother's expression told her otherwise.
Ellie's mind wandered back to the afternoon spent with her friend. They'd eaten their sandwiches lying on their backs in the boat, before being startled by tugs on their lines so sudden that they nearly capsized. They'd burned their cheekbones and noses that afternoon, then as the sun got lower they had had a small bonfire on the riverfront. Nothing her mother said could ruin the memory for her. Nothing could make Jack less worthy in her eyes.
A thin wail came from the direction of the stairs. It was Ellie's baby brother, Charlie.
Aunt Frances, still quailing under Mother's glower, leapt to her feet. “I'll go to him,” she said hastily, and hurried from the room.
Mother took a breath and Ellie knew she was preparing to launch into a fresh round of accusations, but she was interrupted by the sound of the front door.
Father!
Ellie saw a slight softening of her mother's face and they both turned towards the kitchen door in time to see her father stride in. Normally he would pause in the hallway to put down his briefcase and take off his jacket, but today he carried both as he burst into the kitchen, his eyes bright, cheeks flushed, brandishing a newspaper.
“Wesley. . . ?” Mother began.
“My girls! What a historic day!” Ellie's father kissed his wife on the cheek and then pulled Ellie into a rough embrace, throwing the newspaper down on to the table.
“What do you mean, Father?”
“We're at war, my darling.”
“War?” The word sounded heavy in the room.
Father gestured towards the table, where the headline screamed âENGLAND READY FOR WAR!'
Of course. In all the drama of the morning, Ellie had forgotten that the country was awaiting news from London. The Prime Minister had issued an ultimatum to the German Kaiser Wilhelm II, insisting that he move his troops out of Belgium immediately, or Britain and Germany would be at war. The Kaiser had given his answer today.
“Yes, indeed. We have been left with no choice. It would be shameful to stand aside any longer. We must do the honourable thing.”
We?
Ellie thought. Somehow she couldn't connect what went on in distant countries, which she knew only as coloured shapes on a map, with her own life. Even London, where the politicians had been debating the issue for weeks, felt like another world.
Frances re-entered the room, carrying a smiling, if tear-stained, Charlie in her arms. Her normally pink cheeks looked oddly grey.
“So this is it then? We're at war with Germany.”
Ellie's father strolled over to his sister and dropped a kiss on her forehead as he scooped up Charlie and tickled his tummy.
“Don't look so worried, old girl. Everyone says it will be all over by Christmas. You know we couldn't have stood by while the Kaiser took over the show. If we let him have his way in Europe he'll be after our Empire next. This is important. It's for Ellie and Charlie, so that their futures are protected.”
There it was again.
Her
future
. Ellie didn't know when her future had become so important to everyone. Including, it would seem, the Prime Minister.
Two
“Naturally, I intend to join up myself.”
“The army?”
Her father's voice startled Ellie out of her reverie.
“Of course, my darling. Every man must do what he can.”
“But you're needed here. Your patients need you. What will Endstone do without its doctor?”
I need you
, Ellie wanted to say. How could she imagine life without her father?
“But I am needed all the more over in Europe. I can't leave it to the other fellows. Everyone will have people and responsibilities that they are leaving behind â we can't ask others to do what we refuse to do ourselves. We must think of the greater good.”
Her father's eyes â blue like Aunt Frances' and like Charlie's â were fixed on some distant point, as though he'd already left her far behind. Ellie glanced at her mother, whose face looked more pinched than ever.
“You'll remember this day for ever, Ellie,” her father went on, jiggling Charlie in his arms. “Our country is standing up and doing what is right. We're at war.”
“I still don't understand. Why is it up to England to make the Germans get out of Belgium?”
“Because we're Belgium's allies, Ellie,” said Aunt Frances. She twisted a strand of her short, curly hair around her finger as she spoke. “We've sworn to support and defend each other. And if we don't stand by our promises to our allies when they need our help, well, who will support us should we ever need it?”
“I see,” said Ellie, but really she didn't. All these countries â Austria-Hungary, Serbia, Belgium â they felt so far away. How could things that happened over there mean that her father had to leave? It all seemed so strange.
“You understand, don't you, my clever girl?” Ellie's father was looking so proudly at her. She couldn't let him down.
“Of course,” she lied.
“It won't be up to the chaps alone, Ellie,” Aunt Frances went on. “There will be things we can do to help too. And as your father says, all the talk is that the whole thing will be over by Christmas. He'll be back before you know it.” She sounded as though she were trying to convince herself just as much as Ellie.
“This is all well and good,” Ellie's mother cut in, “but there's no point getting overexcited before we know all the particulars. In my view, we've had more than enough theatricals for one morning. And the table is not going to lay itself, Ellie!”
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After lunch, Ellie's father went back to work. Ellie cleared away the lunch things without any more
breakages and settled Charlie down for his nap. Her mother had taken to her bed with a headache, leaving Ellie in no doubt as to whom she considered responsible for the housework and babysitting.
Ellie took the water from the dishes out to the garden to pour over the vegetable patch. It was a warm day, though she could see dark clouds in the distance, and a pleasant breeze lifted her hair from her clammy neck and carried the smell of wild garlic and seaweed from the nearby shore. Ellie gazed towards the sea which stretched out beyond the cliff, into the distance. A small boat, painted a cheerful red, its sail puffed proudly in the wind, drifted along beneath the cliff.
Everything suddenly felt so strange and unfamiliar.Even her own body felt like an uncomfortable dress she was forced to wear. She felt muffled, her senses blunted, as if she had a head cold coming on.
A quiet but unmistakeable squealing sound from the front of the house roused her from her thoughts.
Jack!
Ellie hurried through the back door, dropping the bucket for the dishes into the kitchen and skidding into the hallway in time to see Aunt Frances opening the door.
Jack's wary expression disappeared immediately on seeing Aunt Frances and was replaced by a broad grin. His bicycle â owner of the squeaky brakes â lay abandoned on its side by the front door, its back wheel still spinning. His hair was wilder than ever.
“Hello, Miss Phillips! Hello, Ellie! Mrs Phillips not around?”
“Sssh, she's sleeping, Jack! And we'd all like to keep it that way,” giggled Ellie.
“Right you are,” agreed Jack in a whisper that still sounded uncomfortably loud to Ellie.
Frances bustled them back into the kitchen. Jack was barely across the threshold when he burst out again. “You've heard, though, haven't you? You must have done! We're at war. War!”
“We've heard, Jack, yes,” replied Aunt Frances. She closed the kitchen door firmly, leaning her slim frame against it as though that would further muffle the noise.
Ellie lifted the kettle on to the range. “You certainly seem happy about it,” she remarked.
“Well, it's about time something happened around here! I'm going to sign up straight away. Do my bit and all that.”
“Oh, Jack, you haven't changed at all!” Aunt Frances smiled at him, patting him on the shoulder. “You always wanted to play soldiers with Ellie, even when you were just a tiny boy, both of you in your little school uniforms”
“Yeah!” Jack gave one of his big, booming laughs and Ellie and Aunt Frances winced, glancing towards the door. “But Ellie always wanted to play explorers! Just think, El, finally I might have a chance to get out of this dump!”
Ellie's feeling of queasiness grew. Jack too! She would be stuck in Endstone with only her mother and Charlie. She loved her baby brother but he was too young to be much company.
As if reading her thoughts, Aunt Frances spoke up. “I'm sorry to disappoint you, Jack, but you're too young to join the army,” she said gently.
“I'm fourteen!” Jack protested.
“You have to be eighteen Jack. And even then, with all the training I'd be surprised if they sent you away to fight for months.”
Jack's face fell. Ellie felt sorry for him but also relieved. If the war was going to be over by Christmas, there was no chance Jack would go away. Good. At least she would not lose her friend as well as her father.
“You just want to dress up in a uniform and look like one of your toy soldiers,” she teased as she handed him a cup. The dainty china vessel looked tiny in his large, calloused hand.
“I do not!” he replied hotly. “This isn't like our games when we were nippers, El! It's serious. We can't let the Hun take over Europe!”
“What do you care about what's happening on the other side of the English Channel, Jack?”
“I care! Of course I do! It's like . . . it's like. . .” He struggled for a moment, brow furrowed. “It's like when Endstone are playing Littlecompton at the footie. And when Littlecom start acting as though they own the place. . .” His voice trailed off. “No, no, it's not like that.” He tried again. “It's . . . it's important, El! It's not a joke!”
“He's right,” Aunt Frances said quietly, gazing into her cup as though she could see something more than her tea in there. “I don't like war. You're both too young to remember the Boer Wars, but I knew plenty of good men from home who went away and. . .” She glanced at Ellie and paused. “But we have to stand up for what we believe in. We can't allow Germany to occupy countries that don't belong to her. We can't let our allies down.”
“I know, I know we can't. It's just. . . Everything's already changing. . .” Ellie said.
“And haven't you been longing for things to change, Miss âI'm Going to Travel the World'?” Jack winked, his customary broad smile back in place on his freckled face.
“I suppose I have. . .”
“Goodness!” Aunt Frances suddenly exclaimed, glancing at the clock on the wall. “If I don't get a move on, I'm going to miss my train.”
“Back to Brighton today, Miss Phillips?” Jack enquired.
“Yes, I'm afraid so,” Frances replied. “My leave is over and I'm back in work tomorrow.”
Ellie knew that her aunt would be secretly pleased to get back to her job and her friends. She would be more in need of a holiday from Mother than she'd ever been from work. Ellie imagined her aunt returning to her room in her digs. She had never been allowed to visit, but in her mind it was tidy and organized, yet filled with books and pictures and Frances's understated but stylish clothes, with a desk for her to sit at and write her letters. Frances was an enthusiastic and entertaining correspondent. It was the one good thing about her living so far away.
“We'll see you off at the station, won't we, Jack? Then we can go into the village.”
“Course! I'll take your bag on my bicycle, Miss Phillips.”
After checking that her mother and Charlie were both still sleeping, Ellie retrieved her bicycle from the shed and the three of them set off â Ellie and Jack wheeled their bikes so that Aunt Frances could keep up.
It was an easy twenty-minute stroll to the station, down a pretty lane lined with hedgerows. They met no one to delay them. Reaching the village, the path ran behind the main square, but there were few houses on this side and it tended to be quiet.
All too soon they were there, Jack passed Aunt Frances's bag to one of the porters, who loaded it on to the train. There weren't many other travellers on a weekday afternoon and they stood chatting on the little platform, waiting for the whistle.
“I wish I could go with you,” said Ellie. The train station always filled her with a longing to go somewhere â anywhere! She sometimes passed by on her bicycle just to study the train timetables and imagine the adventures she might have. How exciting it would be to pack a neat suitcase like Aunt Frances' and head off to explore unknown towns and cities!
“Oh, so do I, my dear! You would love Brighton. We could go to the theatre and eat ices by the sea. How you would love the Pavilion! It makes one feel as though one were in India. Maybe you could come in the Christmas holidays. Though we might have tea rather than ices then!”
“Maybe,” said Ellie doubtfully. It sounded wonderful, but she knew that her mother would never allow it.
The stationmaster blew the whistle and Aunt Frances boarded the train, giving hasty kisses first to Ellie, then to Jack, causing him to blush fiercely.
“Goodbye!” she called, her head emerging from the window. A smile lit her face and made her look no older than Ellie. “I expect war will be all over by the time I see you next!”
Ellie and Jack stood and waved until the train was out of sight, then picked up their bicycles and set off for the centre of the village.
Jack glanced at Ellie, who was still deep in thought, already missing her aunt, thinking about how different their lives might become between now and Christmas. “I'll race you,” he yelled suddenly, standing up on his pedals to build up momentum for a burst of speed.
Ellie eyes brightened and her broodings were forgotten. “You never learn, do you, Jack Scott?”
The pair tore down the main road leading into the village. Jack's longer legs were an advantage, but Ellie was lighter, and experienced from years of competing with him. She seemed almost to fly across the square and skidded to a halt by the little fountain at least five seconds before him, red-cheeked and gasping for breath.
Old Miss Webb was emerging from the village store, bent double, her basket weighted down with tins. Ellie had only just managed to swerve to avoid her. Jack's equally dramatic arrival seconds later was too much.
“Heaven preserve me! Is it not enough that the Germans are coming to murder me in my bed? The pair of you are determined to run me down in the road and spare them the trouble!”
“Sorry, Miss Webb,” Ellie mumbled, trying to ignore the delighted grin she knew would be beaming from Jack's face.
“Sorry, are you? Master Scott doesn't look very sorry. I don't know why your mother lets you run wild, Eleanor, I really don't. . .”
They watched her shuffle off, muttering under her breath. Ellie sighed. The last thing she needed was a complaint getting back to her mother. It would be yet another excuse to keep Ellie at home and away from Jack. Another example of why her daughter needed to behave in a more ladylike fashion.
But then her mother never came into the village, and she thought the likes of Miss Webb far beneath her. There was little chance of them speaking.
“Well, Eleanor, I don't know what we're going to do with you,” Jack teased, his dark eyebrows high on his forehead. “Running wild! It's the talk of the village!”
“You be quiet,
Master
Scott! You're the one who nearly sent her toppling into the fountain!”
“Into the fountain, you say?” Jack asked innocently, with a glance in the direction of the splashing water behind Ellie's back.
“Don't even think about it!” she squealed, hurrying to safety through the door of the village store and setting the bell jingling as she did so. “I'm going to tell your mother!”
She came face to face with a queue of curious faces, and flushed deeply.
“What are you going to tell me?” Mrs Scott was behind the counter, holding out a handful of change to Mrs Bridge. Her kind face looked tired but a smile flickered at the corner of her mouth.
“Oh, nothing, sorry.”
Jack was still chuckling as he joined her. They stood by the newspaper rack, jostling each other and sniggering as Mrs Scott served the rest of the customers.
When finally there was a lull, Mrs Scott called them over.
“I hope you're behaving yourself, Jack!”
“I always do, Mam,” he replied, planting a kiss on her rosy cheek.
As she beamed up at him, Ellie realized that Jack was a whole head taller than his mother now.
“I don't know about that!” She tucked a strand of hair â auburn, liberally shot through with grey â behind her ear. “Well, big news, eh? War! Feels like the whole village has been in, wanting to talk about it. Then there's some like poor old Miss Webb who thinks she's got to buy up the whole shop before the Germans come marching down the street! This is about the first break I've had all day!”