The Victory Garden(84)

“Hello. Can I help you?” she asked.

“Are you the new owner or a servant here?” His voice was distinctly aristocratic, with that authoritative tone the upper class use when addressing inferiors.

“I’m neither. There is no new owner, and I am currently staying in the cottage.”

“So the old lady is still alive then?” he asked.

“Yes. Hale and hearty.”

“Good to hear.” He didn’t sound too enthusiastic. He was still frowning at her. “You’re not a relative, are you? I didn’t think . . .”

“You seem remarkably interested in pigeonholing me,” she replied, feeling slightly annoyed by his questioning gaze now. “I am merely a friend who is helping Lady Charlton catalogue her library.”

“I didn’t think she had any friends, and it’s not like her to want help,” he replied, almost bitterly.

“You are acquainted with her then?”

“Oh yes. Well acquainted. Too well acquainted.”

“Would you like to come in and say hello? I believe she should be up and about by now. You could climb over the wall right here.”

“No, thank you,” he said briskly. “I don’t think that would be wise. I should be going. I just wanted to have a look at the old place again. Just to see . . .” He gave an embarrassed little cough. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. I should be getting on my way.”

As Emily watched him turn away, an impossible thought came to her. “Excuse me,” she called after him. He stopped and looked back.

“You are not—you can’t be her grandson, Justin, can you?” she asked.

He flashed her a look of surprise and wariness. “Oh, so you know of me then? I’m still famous in the neighbourhood. That’s nice to know.” Another bitter laugh.

“But they all think you are dead!” she exclaimed. “They understood you’d been blown to pieces.”

The arrogant look on his face faltered. “Then they don’t know? They didn’t hear?”

“Didn’t hear what?”

“My dear lady,” he said, “I have just returned from a German prisoner-of-war camp.”

“How awful. I am so sorry.” She went to reach across the wall to touch him, but withdrew her hand at the last moment. “Nobody knew. Please, come up to the house now. Your grandmother will be overjoyed to see you. Everyone will. They’ll think it’s a miracle.”

Still he hesitated. “You really think my grandmother will be overjoyed to see me?”

“Why wouldn’t she be?”

He frowned. “I’m the coward. The disgrace to the family. Hasn’t she told you that?”

“She said some heated words were exchanged because of your beliefs.”

He gave a derisive snort. “It was she and my father who told me I was letting down my country when I said that I didn’t believe in fighting and was going to register as a conscientious objector. They called me a coward and no member of their family. My grandmother said everyone knew that war was wrong in principle, but if someone else starts it, they have to be stopped, and everyone has to do his duty. Actually, I was planning to volunteer as an ambulance driver, but my father got the enlistment board to refuse my request to register as a conscientious objector. I was drafted into the Devonshire regiment and sent straight to the front. That’s what they did with people like me. Get them killed off as quickly as possible.”

“Your family only heard that your body was never found,” Emily said. “Your grandmother told me you’d either been blown to pieces or you’d deserted.”

“Is that what they thought of me?” He gave a brittle laugh. “Knowing her, she would probably rather I’d been blown to pieces than a deserter.”

Since this was exactly what the old woman had hinted, Emily said nothing. “But I’m sure she will be so happy to know you are alive.”

“What about my father?” he asked. “Is he at home, too?”

“Your father was killed at the front. You didn’t know that?”

“No. I didn’t know.” For a second, the supercilious stare vanished, and he looked like a vulnerable boy. “I’ve known nothing for two years. I’ve been in a private hell.” A spasm of pain crossed his face. Then he collected himself. “He’s dead, you say? So the stupid, old fool re-enlisted and went off to fight.” He shook his head. “All this for-King-and-country nonsense that’s been ingrained in my family. He was too old, you know. He could have stayed quietly home and grown cabbages.”

“So you are all that your grandmother has,” she said. “The one surviving relative. Won’t you please come in and see her?”

She could see the agony of hesitation on his face. “Nobody even bothered to write all the while I was there,” he said. “No letters. No packages. Nothing.”

“Nobody knew where you were,” she said, her patience now wearing thin. “So what happened to you? Why didn’t anyone hear news about you?”

He shrugged. “Actually, I was captured by the Germans on our first offensive. I ran too far ahead of the others when we were told to go over the top, I suppose. I was a little more agile than the other men. It’s such chaos, explosions all around, men being blown up. You don’t have time to think. And suddenly I found myself amongst Germans. This bloke was coming at me with a bayonet when there was an explosion, and that’s the last thing I remember for some time. When I woke up, I was a prisoner. I had a bad head wound, amongst other things. And I suffered from amnesia for a while. I couldn’t even remember my own name. My identity tags had been blown off me. I had no idea who I was. I was going to be shot as a spy, but then I was shipped off to Germany and spent two miserable years in a prison camp. You have no idea how bad it was. Daily beatings, and singling out men to be killed if we did anything wrong. It was pretty much like hell. And not one word from my family.”