Summer's End (31 page)

Caroline thought about the Miss Norvilles, and the astonishing events of Sunday. It seemed funny in retrospect, but it hadn't at the time, and just suppose it wasn't such a joke? Suppose the Germans
did
come? No, she would not think that way. Britain was still an island even if we did enter the war, the Channel was the greatest barricade we had, and the British Navy manned it. The Kaiser would be banging his head on a brick wall if he tried to send invasion ships across.

A special family prayers that evening after ‘Rector's Hour' was taken by Father, who led prayers for the peace of the world. Mrs Dibble was crying, Caroline noticed, puzzled until Felicia reminded her that Joe Dibble was a Territorial. She reproached herself that she had been worrying so much about Reggie she was forgetting the others of the household. Surely Territorials weren't being called up?
If they were … Her fears deepened, and later she manufactured a reason for herself to meet the incoming trains from London, hoping against hope to see Reggie. All she saw were the usual groups, sometimes silent, sometimes animatedly arguing over whether or not Ashden should be involved in the war. As though it could declare itself neutral, she thought dispiritedly. No, for once Ashden had to face the fact – as she did – that they were part of England, that England was part of Great Britain, that Great Britain was part of an Empire – and that the Empire was about to clash with the rest of the world. She watched packets and newspapers being flung out by the guards. The excitement of yesterday had evaporated now, and people read the news quietly. That England would be at war by midnight was taken for granted.

And it was. Major-General Sir John Hunney in the War Office was informed that at eleven o'clock the cable line to Berlin had been cut, and that the navy had been ordered to commence hostilities against Germany. He put on his cap and prepared to leave. Sleep would come easy tonight, but what of tomorrow and all the morrows that followed it?

Elizabeth tossed and turned by Laurence's side, trying not to disturb his sleep, but frantic at her inability to solve the problems crowding in upon her: Isabel stranded in Paris, perhaps crying for her mother who could not help; the bank rate up to ten per cent, the price of bread and wheat up – which meant
everything
would go up. How would the poor manage? How would
they
manage? Who would tend the farms? What would happen to Phoebe now? She reminded herself she had four other children besides Isabel; George was still a child, and all of them, not to mention Laurence, needed her strength, not her weakness. I'll try harder, she told God desperately. I'll try harder, she told Laurence with more conviction. He mumbled something in his sleep, and she thought how much she loved him.

The telegraph and post offices had never handled so many telegrams at once; they all had more or less the same message – and the same shock impact. Joe Dibble, the Dibble's eldest son, was a gardener in Forest Row. He was also a Territorial, and he looked blankly at the telegram.

‘What's the matter, Joe?' His wife had heard his cry.

‘Stone the bally crows. I've been called up.'

‘Called up where?'

‘The army.'

Muriel Dibble, in the family way with their second child, stared at him uncomprehendingly. ‘You'll be back tonight, won't you?'

‘I – I dunno. Have to see what they say, won't I?'

‘Is it this war?' she asked with sudden understanding. ‘You ain't even got a rifle. What good are you?'

‘Just a formality, like.' He stared at the buff paper as though the bald words could provide the answer. What he'd never told Muriel was that in a fit of bravado, he'd signed the General Service Obligation. Didn't that mean they could send him overseas? Still, most like it would never happen.

Another telegram went to Farmer Lake at Owlers Farm. He'd almost forgotten he was on the reserve list. Dazed, he looked at the fields of corn as yet ungathered. Who was to get the bloody harvest home this year? Perhaps they'd wait a bit, if he explained. He'd been running the farm so long now since his brother was killed when a wagon crushed him, he'd completely scrubbed the whole army from his mind.

Another went to Jim Lettice, the Ashden postman. The telegram said nothing about allowances or pay and that was hard with three babes under six. Still, if the country needed him he'd go and be proud of it. He went upstairs to the cupboard where he kept his mementoes of service days. He'd been twenty when the South African war ended. Now he was thirty-two, but all the better fighter for it, he reckoned. The Kaiser would have second thoughts now he knew the British lion was roaring.

‘By Jove, this has woken the old country up.' Reggie was jubilant as he and Daniel left the War Office and sauntered into the Park on Wednesday. This was a new Britain. War had been declared and it was a country reborn with a new purpose, to defend gallant little Belgium. He knew his father was aggrieved about this as a reason for war, seeing it as Prime Minister Asquith's ploy for inducing a reluctant country to fight a very necessary war, but so far as he was concerned,
that
was indeed why he was going. That, and the chance of some action, he admitted honestly to himself. But it was a war of right against might, and how could England turn a blind eye? He
watched a soldier kissing his sweetheart as if he wouldn't see her for a hundred years, and guiltily remembered he hadn't told Caroline he was coming up to London again. He'd meant to. He would have to talk to her about marriage before he left. Then he was overtaken by the immediacy of the moment again, as he caught Daniel's eye.

‘Soldiers of the King, eh? Here, you, have this shilling!' He tossed a shilling at a surprised and grateful beggar. ‘I'll be getting another one any moment now. Bestowed on me by His Majesty the King. It's rotten we can't serve together. I can't think why Pater's against brothers serving in the same regiment. Bad for discipline? Balderdash.'

‘We may neither of us be serving anywhere,' Daniel warned him, but his excited face betrayed his own lack of doubt. ‘We've still got to go before the board in Oxford, tomorrow.'

‘Only for a rubber stamp.' Reggie dismissed this. ‘They won't turn us down. The Pater must be right about these temporary university commissions for fellows with OTC experience; we're lucky that with the Pater we've just jumped the gun a day or two before Kitchener's official announcement. All we have to do is look like the keen, manly university types we are. Easier for you than me. You still are. I'm a careworn man of the world.'

‘In that case I'll go to the Royal Sussex, and you can take the King's Own commission.' For once their father had done them proud, sympathising with their immediate desire to volunteer and devoting time in the War Office to finding out immediately two crack regiments that were not up to full active service strength.

‘Dash it, no,' Reggie complained. ‘Anyway, we don't
know
either will take us.'

‘Pa checked with the CO. They can take us, if the board passes us. Me for the Royal Sussex then.'

‘I'll toss you for it,' Reggie said generously. ‘I won't insist on my rights as elder brother.'

‘You've chucked your shilling away now. I've got one.' Solemnly Daniel flicked the coin up into the sunny blue sky.

‘Tails,' called Reggie, craning over Daniel's hand, as he slowly withdrew the other one.

‘Tails it is.' Daniel pulled a face, and clapped Reggie on the back. ‘Well, the King's Own is a decent regiment too.'

For a moment, Reggie was tempted to say you take the Royal
Sussex. Daniel had after all had the disappointment of his travels being cancelled, but then he changed his mind. Daniel could go to Greece as soon as this bother was over, whereas Reggie would never get another chance of a bash in the Royal Sussex.

‘I don't mind, old fellow,' Daniel assured him, grinning, then chanted: ‘The Royal Sussex is going away, Leaving the girls in the family way.'

‘Not me,' his brother assured him virtuously, as Caroline leaped into his mind again. She'd understand, though. They could wed as soon as he came back. These university commissions were for single fellows only, of course, but the Pater reckoned it would all be over by Christmas, and he'd have made her proud of him by then.

‘Just think, Caroline, a chance of a real crack at a real enemy with the Royal Sussex.' Reggie lay back on the grass in satisfaction. For a moment, she thought she did not know him, so little was he with her, so much carried away by this new adventure. ‘Three cheers for Kitchener and university commissions.'

‘I'm not cheering.' She could not force herself to be glad for his sake.

He sobered instantly. ‘No. You do see I'd have to go, whether I want to or not, though?'

Did she? She battled with herself, and could not trust herself to speak.

‘As I see it,' he went on gravely, when he received no reply, ‘it's a question of honour. What would you think of me if I shirked it?'

I'd have you here, everything inside her cried. ‘You're the Squire here in practice, and it's even more important with your father so involved at the War Office. That's your job, and your honour. Not fighting.'

‘Oh, but fighting is. It's all part of it. Daniel and I and countless other fellows like us were born, whether we like it or not, into the families that lead the country. You could say we're lucky or unlucky. Either way if we don't set an example and
lead
, who will? Pa says they're going to ask for volunteers for a whole new army of men, so how can I hang back? The leaders of the nation have to lead. That's how I see it,' he finished awkwardly.

‘When are you going?' She knew her reply was stilted, but how could she pretend an enthusiasm she did not feel?

He hesitated. ‘Tomorrow. I'm joining the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Sussex at Aldershot. It's my guess they'll be leaving for France any moment.'

‘
Tomorrow?
' she repeated, unable to take it in.

‘Look. These commissions are only for single fellows, but as soon as I'm back, and it's not going to last long, we'll be married by one of those special licence things. We'll have a Christmas wedding.'

‘Don't you
care
what this is doing to
us
?' She knew it was unfair, she knew she was behaving childishly, but out it came.

‘Yes. As it happens, I do.' There was stiffness in his voice. ‘For the last six weeks I have been thinking of little else but the day I could marry you. Or, more truthfully, if you must know, the night after I'd married you. I'd pictured us together, not in the Manor, but in the Rectory, where I could just have
you, alone
, and
mine.
And now, through no fault of mine, I have to go off to fight for the country I was born in,
without
that night.'

‘Do you,' her voice seemed to be swallowed up by the pagan forest around them, ‘have to? I mean,
without?
'

He didn't pretend not to understand, nor was he shocked as he might have been once. ‘God knows I want to, Caroline, and I think He wouldn't mind
too
much, but I can't. It's all to do with bally honour again, I suppose. If this is an honourable war, and I believe it to be, I have to behave honourably in all things. And that, young lady,' he turned over and grinned at her, suddenly light-hearted again, ‘means waiting till Christmas.'

‘Will you be sent abroad?' Felicia asked. She might almost have been asking when he'd next be going up to Oxford, from her polite voice. Daniel now knew her better than that.

‘Probably. The battalion's stationed at Dover at present. Very handy. It's just another sort of adventure, Felicia, and I've got to have it. Once this mess is sorted, I can set out on my travels afar. It means I'll be seeing Northern France and Belgium before Greece, that's all.'

‘All?'

A brief silence ensued while he tried to deflect the swift arrow of Felicia's reply, which sliced as usual through the irrelevant direct to the heart. Heart?
Was
it involved after all? ‘I'm not going alone,' he tried to laugh. ‘The whole of the Regular Army and the Reserve are
coming with me. I don't think even my swollen head could take on the
Feldmacht
unaided.'

‘The what?'

‘The lads in grey. The German Army. Kaiser Bill's minions.'

‘They're good soldiers, so I've heard.'

‘Not so good as the British Tommy.' He knew Reggie had a few reservations on this aspect, believing that stalwart hearts could never conquer stalwart weapons, but he did not share them. He was a historian, not a classicist like Reggie. Every so often there was an eruption in Europe, like Napoleon. It was like the recent eruption of Mount Etna; after a while it settled down again, and so would this flare-up once it was made clear to the Kaiser that there was sufficient strong opposition. He was, therefore, surprised to find himself saying: ‘Why don't you give me a photograph of yourself, just in case I'm away for more than a couple of weeks and miss my birthday? I can kiss your picture instead.' Embarrassed, he laughed awkwardly.

Ashden station had never been busier; true, there had been as many people when the old King had passed through, but they had been patiently waiting, not jostling about, fussing over luggage for want of words to express their feelings during the interminable wait for the steam train. It was hard to believe all this activity stemmed from Ashden. It was as if the village were taking a brief holiday from itself, and tomorrow or the next day it would step back to resume its normal pace. Caroline tried to tell herself that this was only like another of the Hunney trips, another episode of derring-do; in the old days she had walked back to the Rectory to wait for a postcard, or maybe two or three, depending on how many thoughts Reggie spared on her. Those days were past; now she did not doubt that he would spare thought for her, but how could she bear the waiting? There was only one way, she decided. She must do something positive to help win the war. The next time she saw Reggie he would be in uniform; would he get leave, or would she have to wait till Christmas when the war was over to see him? The clock of life had gone berserk, first rushing round frantically, kaleidoscoping years of emotions into a few days, and now holding out the dismal prospect of slowing down to suit the slowest tortoise.