The Shadow of the Sycamores Read online

  Henry gave a little smile at this. ‘Aye, she can, though she’s usually quiet and biddable.’

  ‘She loves him, of course, which makes a big difference. A woman in love can ignore any faults or shortcomings in a lover …’

  ‘He’ll never be her lover, though,’ Henry observed, dryly.

  Fay sighed gustily. ‘That’s what worries me. She might get so frustrated, she could start to hate him but she’ll be tied to him for life.’

  For his life, at any rate, Henry thought but, wisely, did not voice it.

  * * *

  Jerry had to give in eventually. The other men in his platoon kept teasing him about being scared to go out and meet the girls and he had taken the jibes without a word but there was a limit. They were stationed at Dover and, on this particular evening, six of them had planned to go the local pub for a few drinks, to give them Dutch courage, then go on to the dancehall and had persuaded him to go with them. He had never been in a pub or a dancehall before and he found that the beer did not give him any more self-confidence. The advent of the seven, tall and handsome kilted young men caused quite a sensation amongst the female sex and he sat watching in amusement as each of his comrades swaggered up to the girl who had taken his fancy. Not one was refused and they joined the throng of dancers, the girls howling with laughter about the swinging of the kilts and quite clearly asking if they wore anything underneath.

  He was quite enjoying himself. The music was good; catchy tunes that many of the young people recognised and were singing along with. He felt his feet keeping time to the rhythmic beat and he suddenly realised what a sheltered life he had led … apart from certain events. He wished that he could dance but he wouldn’t have the nerve to ask a girl to be his partner. Still, it was something he could live without so he shouldn’t worry about it.

  ‘Excuse me but do you mind if I sit beside you?’

  The soft English voice made him look round. The girl was around the same age as himself, he thought, past his eighteenth birthday now and he quite liked the look of her. She wasn’t very tall, maybe five feet one or two, and her thick, light brown hair was tied back with a broad pink ribbon. But he was forgetting his manners. ‘No,’ he smiled, ‘I don’t mind at all.’

  She smiled back shyly and sat down on the chair next to him. ‘I saw your pals had gone off and left you and I’m in the same boat so …’

  ‘I can’t dance,’ he said quickly, to save any misunderstanding.

  She grinned now, making her look even more attractive. ‘Neither can I.’

  The thought of two non-dancers being in a dancehall made them giggle for a moment, then she said shyly, ‘I’m Daphne Nelson.’

  Having exchanged names, he told her that he came from the north-east of Scotland. The conversation now off to a good start, they chatted happily, learning what they could about each other, until the band came to a rousing close and the dancers started to leave the floor.

  Jerry jumped to his feet, not wanting the magic to be broken by the return of his mates. ‘Come outside,’ he pleaded. ‘They’ll just tease us if we stay here.’

  Daphne needed no second bidding and they walked along the promenade for the next hour, the time flying past at treble its normal speed. Jerry knew, and guessed that his companion also knew, that this could be only a fleeting friendship – it could come to nothing because he would be leaving Brighton in a day or so – yet he had never been so happy. He made no comparison with Anna. She was in the past although he would never forget her. They had still been children – they didn’t even understand the workings of their own bodies and were quite ignorant of life. Yet their love had been real and it might have stood them in good stead forever if …

  Walking back to the billet, Jerry felt no guilt that he had kissed Daphne when he saw her home. He had kept it light, of course. The situation was too fraught with pitfalls to chance letting it develop into something serious. They had enjoyed each other’s company and had arranged to meet again the next night.

  ‘The only thing is,’ he had told her, ‘we might be shipped out at short notice and I wouldn’t have a chance to let you know.’

  Her smile had been touched with sadness. ‘If you don’t turn up, I’ll know.’

  ‘Well, it won’t be because I don’t want to see you again because I do. I just wish …’ He had shaken his head with a sigh and let her go.

  Daphne filled his thoughts that night, the softness of her beautiful silky hair, her rosy cheeks, still a little chubby; her rosebud mouth, soft and enticing; her swelling bosom and tiny waist; her buttoned shoes peeping out from under her skirts. Oh, God, if things had been different! If there hadn’t been a war, he could have courted her properly. Then common sense told him that if there had not been a war, he would never have met her.

  But maybe he would have a few days with her yet. Their departure could be delayed and, even if they were sent across the channel tomorrow, he had taken a note of her address. He would write to her and he would go to see her on the first leave he had.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The past few weeks had been extremely hard going for all in the house at Cramond, not least Samara Rae. Not only was she fighting against the brick wall that was Leo but she also had his stepmother’s animosity to contend with. At first, it had been more or less veiled but no longer. Everything the woman said to her now was heavy with sarcasm or hostility and it had not taken the girl long to see the reason for it. If Leo outlived his father, he would inherit half the estate but, if he died first, his stepmother would get everything. It was as simple as that. She would not want anyone else complicating matters.

  Even knowing this, however, Mara could do nothing about it. James Ferguson would not take kindly to a girl he hardly knew complaining about his wife. She felt like asking him to cut Leo out of his will completely but having to explain why would cause trouble. She had, therefore, to ‘keep a calm sough’, as her grandfather might have said, and to show no ill feeling towards the woman.

  She was coming to the end of her tether, however, when Leo gave her a beaming smile one afternoon – not a smile of love or affection, more a smile to acknowledge her presence, but a smile of any kind was a breakthrough. It took another few days before he put out his arm and touched her hand, a brief and feather-light contact but, nevertheless, another step forward. Soon, each day saw another improvement and her spirits soared. His stepmother, naturally, was anything but pleased but what did that matter now? Then one evening, after settling Leo, she opened the sitting-room door to bid his parents goodnight, as she always did, and his father beckoned her in.

  ‘Sit down, Samara,’ he smiled. ‘Madeline went to bed early with a headache so it has given me the chance to talk to you privately.’ Waiting until she was seated, he went on, ‘You have done marvels with Leo, my dear, and I know it has not been easy for you.’

  She shrugged. ‘It hasn’t but I don’t mind. I love him.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that and it is becoming clearer by the day that he still loves you. My wife has never been altogether happy about having Leo living with us and it is not just because he has been badly wounded. Anyway, she wanted me to send him to a home for disabled servicemen but I would not hear of it. I could not bear to think of him being amongst absolute strangers and that is why I decided to write to you – against his wishes, as you know. I only meant to ask your opinion on sending him away so your reaction was an unexpected gift.

  ‘I thought that, if anyone could get through to him, surely the girl he had loved would succeed and you certainly have! I would not have believed that I would ever see him smile again yet I have heard the two of you laughing sometimes.’

  ‘We like to joke with each other – we always did – but he still has some black spells. Granted, they’re not as frequent as they were but …’

  ‘Nor so black,’ the man grinned, then sobered again. ‘I am going to make a suggestion that I want you to consider carefully before deciding. The thing is …’ He broke off an
d regarded her seriously for a moment. ‘The thing is I do not want you to think I am shelving my responsibility. This will be as difficult for me as it will be for you, I imagine. Still, I had better get on with it. I do not know if you are aware that I still own Corbie Den, the house near Ardbirtle? Madeline does not care for the isolation of it but I have been thinking …’

  Mara’s eyes had lit up. ‘You want me to take Leo there? Oh, Mr Ferguson, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.’

  ‘Don’t be too hasty, my dear. There are things to be discussed first. For instance, you can’t just go and live together … you know how tongues wag, especially in a small town like that. What I mean is, if we can get Leo to agree, would you be prepared to marry him? He is a mere shell of a man, remember. He will never be able to fulfil his duty as a husband and you are a young woman, presumably with normal needs. There may come a time when you fall in love with another man and then what would happen to Leo? Either you would go off with your new love and leave him to be put in a home or, more likely knowing you, you would sacrifice yourself, give up any chance of true happiness, under the name of duty.’

  ‘But I’ll never love anybody else!’ Mara burst out. ‘Never!’

  ‘That is what you think at present but time could change your mind.’

  ‘I’ll never change and, if Leo is willing, I’ll marry him as soon as you can arrange it.’

  ‘If you are still of the same mind in the morning, I will ask our minister to perform the ceremony here. I doubt if Leo would care to be seen in church or in a registry office. Goodnight, Samara. Think it over carefully, remember.’

  She did not take long to think it over. Despite a tiny voice telling her that she would be meeting her destiny head on, that there would be no turning back, a lovely warmth inside reminded her that marriage was expected to follow an engagement. Marrying Leo was what she had always dreamed of and it would work out for them, of course it would. The cottage on the outskirts of Ardbirtle was, by all accounts, set well apart from any other dwelling places, so there would be no neighbours popping in to upset the apple cart. They would be alone together; she would make her routine around Leo; she would cook only what he liked; she would bestow all her love on him. Surely he couldn’t fail to respond to that. Surely they would get back to the relationship they used to have, the fond teasing, the shared jokes, the reciprocated love. It would take time but they had all the time in the world.

  Fate was smiling on Jerry Rae for once. The expected move across the Channel had been postponed for at least a month, they were told, with no reason given. Not that he needed a reason. It meant that he and Daphne Nelson could have more time to get to know each other properly.

  During the first few days, they arranged to meet at a spot handy for both of them but the slight restraint in her manner to him made him wonder if she wished he had stayed out of her life. Maybe he should have let well alone. He wanted to have her as a friend yet friendship could develop into something more serious and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that yet.

  Then Daphne told him that her parents wanted to meet him and the warmth of their welcome, together with the girl’s obvious pride in him as she made the introductions, made him realise that she had just been shy before.

  They spent every evening together now and practically the whole of the weekends, their blossoming feelings making him almost forget that he was really on borrowed time. By rights, he should have been in France or Belgium, doing his bit to win the war. Instead he was falling deeper and deeper in love with a girl he had known for so short a time.

  Unrepentant, however, he let her take him for walks, show him the sights and even teach him to dance – she really could dance. He would have liked to do more than kiss her – he sometimes felt that she wanted more – but he was afraid to try. He had learned, from Anna’s experiences, what could happen to a girl if the man got carried away. He had learned, from his own experience with Anna, to hold back his own passions but it was proving much more difficult with Daphne.

  Three weeks had passed of the month’s reprieve he had been given when he sensed a change in Mr and Mrs Nelson’s attitude towards him. They had always been very friendly but now they were treating him almost as if he were part of the family – or as if they wanted him to be.

  Then came the night when Rob, Daphne’s father, invited him to go to the local with him and his suspicions were proved correct. Not that he minded. It was good to know that the parents of the girl he loved actually approved of him.

  He was on his first half-pint of bitter when the man said, ‘Lil told me to ask you … um … if your … intentions towards our daughter are honourable.’

  Somewhat taken aback, Jerry gave a nervous smile and Rob went on, ‘Don’t panic, though. It’s early days yet so you don’t have to commit yourself if you’re not sure.’

  An instant judgement – he loved the girl, he was fond of her parents – was all it took. ‘No, I’m quite sure. I want to marry Daphne if you give your permission?’

  Rob burst out laughing now and gave the younger man a thumping slap on the shoulder. ‘Give my permission? That’s a good un. The wife as much as said I’d to get you to agree even if I’d to hold a gun to your head.’ Turning to the man behind the bar, he said loudly, ‘We’ll have whisky now, please landlord. This kiltie’s just asked for my daughter’s hand in marriage.’

  The landlord, clearly a good friend, shouted out the glad tidings to all and sundry and, in no time, Jerry and his future father-in-law had a row of drinks sitting in front of them. At closing time, Rob had to help Jerry outside and they giggled all the way back to the house, luckily only a short distance.

  Probably having guessed that this would happen, Lil Nelson merely gave a resigned smile when they went in, though Daphne showed more concern for her young man. ‘Is he all right?’ she demanded of her father. ‘You shouldn’t have given him so much to drink.’

  ‘It weren’t me,’ Rob sniggered. ‘It were Frank’s fault. He let the whole bar know and everybody sent us over a whisky.’

  Lil frowned. ‘You should have known Jerry couldn’t manage that. I bet he’s never drunk anything more than a pint of bitter before. Aren’t I right, Jerry?’

  His head spinning to a rhythmic hammering in his brain, his stomach threatening to give up its contents, the youth could only nod. He wasn’t sure what was happening, though one thing stood out in his mind. Somehow or other, he had asked for Rob’s permission to marry his daughter but it was Daphne he really should be … Whatever he should be doing, he couldn’t do it now. If he didn’t get outside right this very minute, he’d make a proper exhibition of himself.

  ‘I’m … going … to … be …’

  It was Lil who hauled him to his feet, who propelled his rubber legs to the tiny lavatory by the back door, who heaved a sigh of relief when they made it safely.

  Once he was allowed back to the sitting room, he was handed cup after cup of strong, sweet tea in an effort to sober him, while Daphne wailed, ‘Can’t he just sleep here for tonight? He can’t go back to his billet like this.’

  ‘He’ll have to.’ Rob was looking sheepish now, although he was able to hold his liquor far better than Jerry. ‘He has to be in by ten, hasn’t he? And, if he isn’t, he’ll be in big trouble. God, I’m sorry. I should’ve thought …’

  ‘So you should,’ Lil declared angrily, ‘and you’re going to make sure he does get back in time.’

  Giving Daphne a look of mortified apology – for being drunk, for being sick and for not being able to do anything for himself – Jerry allowed Lil to button him into his greatcoat.

  ‘I hope you’ve learned a lesson from this,’ she said, sharply, jamming his balmoral bonnet down on his head with some force, with its ‘Bydand’ badge dead front instead of at the side.

  ‘It wasn’t his fault,’ Daphne pleaded.

  Her mother rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘I know that and you know that and Jerry knows that but there’s some people in
this house who can never admit to being to blame for anything.’

  Rob scowled at her. ‘I did. I told you I never thought …’

  ‘You never do. Now, get off for goodness sake and get this poor boy back before they put him on a charge or whatever they do.’

  ‘I’ll get him back,’ Rob muttered, putting the top button of his overcoat through the second buttonhole. ‘Don’t you worry about that!’

  ‘Should I go with them?’ Daphne asked after the two men went out. ‘Just to make sure they get there all right?’

  ‘Your father’ll manage. He’s not as drunk as he looks.’

  The blast of cold air increasing the degree of Rob’s inebriation, however, it would have been a miracle if Jerry had reached his billet that night at all, if one of the young kilted men who passed them had not recognised him and hooked his arm. ‘We’ll see he gets back,’ he said to Rob. ‘Leave him with us.’

  ‘Thanks.’ The elder man turned slowly, careful not to lose his balance, and tottered off the way he had come.

  And so, not having said a word to the girl herself, Jerry was now affianced to Daphne Nelson and Rob, arriving home a mere ten minutes after setting off on his errand of mercy, got the full force of his wife’s wrath for not escorting the boy right to the door of his billet.

  Because this was an interval of ‘marking time’ before they would be plunged into battle, discipline was not so strict, roll call was later and, to make things even better for the young Gordon Highlanders, they were told the next morning that it would be another three weeks at least before they had to leave the white cliffs.

  ‘And God help all the young maidens in Dover,’ the sergeant observed with a scowl. ‘They’ll need to keep their hand on their ha’penny. But I tell you this, if even one o’ you silly buggers puts a lass up the spout, I’ll take it out on the whole jing-bang o’ youse.’

  Howls of protest greeted this but he swaggered out of the mess, his kilt swaying in time to the tread of his size twelve boots, polished to such a degree that anyone could see his face in them – if he were brave enough to look.