The Victory Garden(47)

“Yes.” She nodded, and as Emily went to leave, she called after her. “Wait. I should like to give you a little present.”

She went over to one of the shelves and took from it a round, brass object. “My husband’s compass,” she said. “He took it everywhere he went. I’d like to know that you have something to guide your way.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t . . .” Emily flushed with embarrassment. “Not your husband’s.”

“He has no need for it any longer. Neither do I,” Lady Charlton said. “May it guide you well, as it did my dear husband.”

She put the compass into Emily’s hand. It felt surprisingly heavy. Emily looked down at the needle, swinging and pointing away from the house. “Thank you. I will treasure this,” she said.

She joined Alice and Daisy, who had put away their garden tools. “We’ll need to go down to the cottage to collect our things,” she told the driver. “It might be easier if you meet us in the lane behind the row of cottages. The path down the garden is horribly rutted, and I don’t know if the trap will fit through the gate.”

“Right you are then, miss,” he said. “And don’t you ladies hurry yourselves unduly. That Foster woman, she don’t know how long it would take to find you, do she? So I might just pop across to the village shop for the newspaper and a smoke while you are packing up.” And he gave them a wink.

They walked down the hill.

“I’m sorry to leave now,” Alice said. “I was getting quite used to it here. I wonder where we’re off to next. I do hope it’s not pigs. Pigs scare me.”

“Or cows,” Daisy added. “Cows are bigger. And they have horns.”

Alice looked at Emily. “You’re awful quiet. Don’t tell me you’re sad to be escaping from your sherry with the old girl?”

“I am, actually,” Emily said. “But I was just wondering what I’d do if we find out we’re to be going home. I don’t seem to have a home to go to.”

“We’ll work it out. Don’t you worry.” Alice patted her shoulder.

Emily stood in the attic room, watching stripes of sunlight on the sloping ceiling. She put the last of her toiletry items into her bag, fastened it and gave a sigh as she descended the steep stairs. The pony and trap appeared, and the carter helped them on to the long seats at the back, then handed up their bags. Then he clicked his teeth and the pony set off at a lively trot. They passed the village green, over the packhorse bridge and away. The sun shone down on them, and the trap swayed with a gentle rhythm. Emily closed her eyes.

She opened them when she heard Daisy say, “Oh no.”

“Oh no what?” she asked. Then she saw they were holding the newspaper that the carter had bought. They looked at her with stricken faces.

“What is it?” Emily asked again.

Silently, Daisy passed the newspaper across to her. On the front page, one of the headlines read, “Fearless Flyer Crashes Doomed Plane in Field to Save Village.” Emily didn’t need to read on to know that it was Robbie.





CHAPTER NINETEEN

The news had apparently reached the farm before they did. The other women were waiting and helped Emily down from the trap, murmuring condolences. Miss Foster-Blake came out.

“Emily, my dear. We are all so sorry,” she said. “You’ve had a terrible shock. Come inside and have a glass of brandy.”

She led Emily away as though she were a little child and sat her down. It was a complete re-enactment of the scene with her headmistress, the unexpected gentleness from one who had been so strict and severe. Emily felt a big gulp come up into her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but it escaped as a heaving sob. She put her hands to her face and burst into tears.

“I should never have loved him,” she gasped between sobs. “If I hadn’t loved him, he’d still be alive.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Every time I’ve loved someone, they have died. It’s as if I’ve cursed them with my love.”

“Well, that’s nonsense, and you know it,” Miss Foster-Blake said. “At least you can console yourself by knowing you made his last weeks happy. He died knowing he was loved. Not everybody can say that. And he died doing a noble deed. He gave his life for others. You should be very proud.”

“Proud?” Emily looked up, brushing tears from her face. “I don’t want to be proud. I want him alive. I read the article. It said he had time to bail out, but the plane would have crashed on to a village full of people. Well, right now, I wish he had bailed out and killed someone else instead. Why did he have to be so bloody noble?”

Miss Foster-Blake didn’t even react to the strong language. “You’re distraught, my dear. Here, take a sip of the brandy, and then we’ll decide what to do next.”

She put the glass to Emily’s lips like a child and made her drink. Emily gulped, then gasped as the fiery liquid went down.

“Now,” Miss Foster-Blake said, “I think the best thing for you would be to go home. Go to a place where you can be taken care of and cherished. You’ll need time to grieve and to heal. I’m discharging you early.”

“No.” Emily shook her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t go home. My father told me that if I disobeyed him, I was no longer welcome at their house.”