The Lie (28 page)

‘Emily  . . .' Simon said in an exasperated voice, as she walked towards the door. ‘I was only thinking of you.'

Emily didn't look back as she went out. She was feeling angry and upset, even though she knew in her heart that it was better if Simon went away to have his treatment without her. There was no point in pretending that they were a happily married couple, because it just wasn't true.

As she got into the car she had once again borrowed from Amelia, she saw a man getting out of what she thought was an expensive Rolls Royce. He was immaculately dressed in a grey striped suit, and his shoes looked handmade. She knew him as the man Simon had called Philip – some sort of a cousin. Well, perhaps her husband would be more interested in his next visitor than he had been in his wife.

Alice picked up the small packet of letters with shaking hands. There were four of them and they had arrived together that morning – four letters from Daniel. Surely it meant that he was alive and well? She saw that they all had the same date on the envelope, and opened them at random. They had all been written within a couple of days. Daniel was telling her that they had arrived at their new billet and were settling in. He said it was nicer than he'd thought, and that he'd been out for a drink with the locals at  . . . the next bit had been blue pencilled but looking at the back of the page, Alice could just about read the word.

What was a
taverna
? She puzzled over it for a moment, and then realized it must mean the same as a tavern or an inn. It might be somewhere like Spain or Italy . . . no, not Italy – Greece! It clicked in her mind suddenly, and she remembered the reports about the British having to retreat from Athens; that was about the time when Daniel went missing, just after these letters were written. He must have sent them just before  . . . whatever happened.

Alice closed her eyes, trying to picture the scene. What was it like when men were being forced to retreat before a stronger enemy? She had read reports about how the New Zealanders and Australians had fought so bravely to try and repel the invaders, and how the Greeks had covered the retreat of as many men as they could, cheering the British troops as they marched out.

There must have been lots of shelling, gunfire and explosions. She could see Daniel in the middle of a battle, see the men falling all around him and then  . . . it all went blank. She couldn't see Daniel being dead, because it didn't feel to her as if he were dead.

Her mother said she must start to accept that he probably wouldn't be coming home. Even her father had told her to cry, to let her grief out, but she
had
cried and the grief was still inside her, gnawing at her. Yet she couldn't believe that Daniel was dead. She would feel empty if that were so, but she didn't, she just felt worried and on edge.

‘You won't do the baby any good mithering over Daniel,' her mother had told her when the letters were delivered. ‘You've got to pull yourself together, Alice. You've got the baby to think of now.'

She
was
thinking of the baby, of course she was. She had knitted coats and bonnets and bootees, and she'd made some nightgowns from material she'd found on the market, but that didn't stop this ache inside her. It never went away, whether she was waking or sleeping, just stayed there like a heavy lump in her heart.

Frances had told her that Emily was coming to visit that weekend. She would be pleased to see her sister-in-law, and she hoped that in Emily she would find a believer, someone who wasn't prepared to just write Daniel off as if there wasn't a shred of hope.

‘Oh, isn't he beautiful!' Emily said as she bent over her nephew. He looked pink and chubby, his fat little fist waving at her, and he smelled of baby talcum. ‘You must be so proud of him and so happy.'

‘Yes, I am,' Frances said. ‘He is lovely, isn't he?'

‘Gorgeous,' Emily said. ‘I wasn't sure I wanted a baby just yet but looking at your little Mark makes me broody.'

‘It's a pity—' Frances stopped abruptly, seeming awkward. ‘I mean – will you  . . . will Simon be able  . . .?'

Emily took pity on her. ‘He wasn't damaged in that way, if that's what you mean. I'm not sure if we shall ever have a normal marriage again, but I don't think he's incapable.'

‘Surely it will be all right between you when he's over all this?'

Emily shrugged her shoulders. ‘I'm not sure. Simon seems to have withdrawn. He says he doesn't want me to go with him when he goes to America for treatment so I shall stay here and do my job.'

‘Not go with him?' Frances looked shocked and then upset. ‘But surely you will? Oh, Emily, I think that's awful. You must go with him, of course you must.'

‘Not if he doesn't want me to. Besides, I have plenty to do here. They need me at the home, and I'm doing a worthwhile job.'

‘But Simon is your husband!'

‘Yes – but not all husband and wives live in each other's pockets, Frances.'

‘Well, I know some don't,' Frances admitted, ‘but if you love each other  . . .' Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Emily. ‘You do love him, don't you?'

‘To be honest, I don't know,' Emily admitted. There was no point in hiding it any longer, because she wasn't sure how long her marriage would continue. ‘It was all such a rush when we got married. I wasn't sure it was right then, but Simon was so down and I thought  . . .' She sighed. ‘I probably made a mistake, but I'm stuck with it so there's not much use in complaining.'

‘Oh, Emily!' Frances looked shocked, as if she would burst into tears at any minute. ‘I don't know what to say to you.'

‘There isn't anything to say. I can't leave Simon the way things are, and I've taken on this project for Vane. I shall just have to grit my teeth and put up with it, shan't I?'

‘But that's a horrible way to live.'

‘It's all I can do for the moment,' Emily said. ‘I've accepted it and that's that as far as I'm concerned.'

‘But when Simon is over this  . . .'

‘Perhaps,' Emily agreed. ‘I shall have had time to think things over. I do care about him, Frances. I don't love him, not as you love Marcus – or as Alice loves Daniel – but I do care, of course I do.'

‘Have you seen Alice yet?' Frances frowned. ‘Her mother told me she'd had some letters from Daniel. Apparently, she just refuses to accept that he is dead.'

‘Has the War Office confirmed it, then?'

‘No, not yet. But he must be, mustn't he?'

‘I don't see that follows,' Emily said, her heart aching. ‘Don't give up on him, Frances. He might be wounded – or even a prisoner.'

‘They get lists of prisoners, don't they?'

‘Yes, but they aren't always accurate, and sometimes it is ages before names get listed. I think Alice is right not to give up yet. Besides, it will be easier for her to accept as time goes on.'

‘Well, perhaps you are right,' Frances said, and picked up her son as he started to whimper. ‘I wish you would talk to Henry while you're here, Emily. He isn't at all well, but he won't listen to anything we tell him – and Connor is playing me up. He's been moody ever since he heard about Daniel. He stays out late and I can't do a thing with him.'

‘I'll see if I can talk to him,' Emily promised, and sighed. Everything was so complicated and so distressing, and even Frances looked tired to death. Why couldn't it be like it had been before the war – before her father died? If he'd still been here he would have sorted them all out, she thought, and felt the ache that had never quite gone away stir inside her. ‘I expect he's just upset over Daniel.'

‘I'm really glad you came,' Alice said, as she served Emily a slice of her seed cake and refilled her cup with tea. ‘It's been good having a long talk to you, and I feel much better.'

‘I know everyone thinks we have to accept that Dan has gone,' Emily told her, ‘but I'm like you, Alice, I don't feel that he is dead. I know something is wrong, but I can't believe he won't come back to us one day.'

A tear trickled down Alice's cheek, but she brushed it away with the back of her hand. ‘Thank you for saying that, Emily. Mum thinks I'm laying up trouble for myself by refusing to accept it, but I can't believe he's gone – I just can't.'

‘Well, you may be right. You hang on to that thought until we know for certain,' Emily said, and reached across to kiss her cheek. ‘How are you, love? You look as if you're blooming. Frances got very tired towards the end of her term, but you seem to be carrying well.'

‘I am,' Alice said, and patted her stomach. ‘He's very good. I'm determined to have a boy for Dan. I was hardly sick at all, and I haven't had some of the troubles other girls have. That poor Millie Richardson up the lane, for instance – she's having her third in three years and she looks terrible, all kinds of problems. Mum has gone up to her today to see if she can do anything to help her.'

‘Is she having another?' Emily shook her head over what had been a scandal in the village for ages. ‘She isn't much older than you, Alice. Who is the father this time?'

‘She says she doesn't know, but Mum swears it's Millie's father. She thinks he's to blame for all her children.'

‘That's horrible,' Emily said. ‘He should be ashamed – his own daughter! Someone should tell the police.'

‘That's what Mum thinks,' Alice agreed. ‘But Dad told her she isn't to do it and nobody else wants to get involved either. Everyone knows what's going on, but the poor girl doesn't have much now and if he was tried and sent to prison it would be even worse for her.'

‘Yes, I suppose it might,' Emily agreed. ‘But it isn't right, Alice. You would think her mother would do something – or her brothers.'

‘Maybe they think it keeps it in the family,' Alice suggested. ‘But her last child isn't right in the head. I think it's time someone did something, but I doubt if anyone will. Especially at the moment. They all have too much to worry them. Sally Johnson's eldest son was killed at Tobruk earlier this year and now her youngest has joined the Army.'

‘Oh, the poor woman,' Emily sympathized. It wasn't just their family that had suffered; everyone was having their own troubles. ‘It's this rotten war. At the start they thought it wouldn't last long, but it just keeps on, and we don't seem to get anywhere.'

‘Oh, don't,' Alice begged. ‘Please don't talk about it. I try not to think about it more than I have to.'

Emily understood how she felt. Alice must be miserable over not knowing what had happened to Dan, but she was being very brave, facing it in the only way she knew how.

‘Let's talk about the baby then,' Emily said. ‘What about a christening gown? Amelia told me there was one in the attic I could have. I've brought it for you to see. It is beautiful old lace, though it will need a bit of blue to make it white again. I offered it to Frances first but she has made her own so I thought you might like it?'

‘But won't you want it for your own children – when you have them?' Alice blushed faintly. ‘Sorry, perhaps I shouldn't have asked that  . . .'

‘It doesn't bother me,' Emily said. ‘Seeing little Mark and you having Dan's baby makes me a bit broody, but it isn't likely to happen for a while. I've accepted that and I have lots of other things to occupy me.'

‘I should love to have the gown – if you're sure?'

‘Yes, of course. I thought I would ask first, but I'll drop it in tomorrow before I leave.'

‘Are you leaving so soon?'

‘I only came for the weekend,' Emily said. ‘I've seen Frances and the baby, and you – and I'm going to Henry's for dinner this evening.'

‘He hasn't looked at all well lately,' Alice said, with a frown. ‘And Connor has been up to a few tricks recently. He and Peter were in trouble with Mr Wright last week. They let his boar out and he had a problem getting it away from the sows – and they do other things that would give Mum a fit if she knew.'

‘What kind of things?'

‘They go and lie in the ditches around the drome to count the planes in and out,' Alice told her. ‘Sometimes they are out until it's almost light. I caught Peter sneaking in the other night. He pleaded with me not to tell Dad and I haven't, because he would get a thrashing if I did. But it could be dangerous for them if the drome was bombed, and it has been a couple of times, although they were daylight raids and didn't do much damage really.'

‘Frances told me he was getting out of hand. I think he's upset over Daniel.'

‘Yes, I am sure he is,' Alice agreed. ‘I've tried to talk to him, but he just backs off and gives me an accusing look, as if he were blaming me.'

‘I'm sure he doesn't blame you. He just feels miserable,' Emily said. ‘He will be coming to Henry's with me this evening so perhaps I can talk to him then – not that he will listen to me.'

‘I think he listened to Daniel more than anyone else,' Alice said. ‘And I know Dan is fond of him. He talked about Connor living with us until he was old enough to get his own place.'

‘Perhaps that's what is upsetting him,' Emily said. ‘I know he resented Frances getting engaged and married so soon after Father died – and he said Henry and Clay wanted their own way on the farm. It wasn't so bad when I was at home but now  . . . he must feel abandoned by his family.'

‘Yes, perhaps he does,' Alice agreed. ‘But he is always welcome here, Emily. Mum would let him share Peter's room if he wanted to stay, though he's got his own room with Frances, of course.'

‘I don't think he has ever felt close to Frances. I was closer to him, and so was Dan. But it might help him if you told him he could stay here sometimes, Alice. He is always talking about you and your seed cake, so he obviously likes being here.'