The Victory Garden(85)

“They would have written if they’d known,” she said. “Of course they would.”

“Do you think so?” Again, for a second, he sounded hopeful. Then he shrugged, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets. The wind whipped at the scarf around his neck, sending it streaming out behind him. “You people have no idea what it was like,” he said bitterly. “The front. The prison camp. And you sit at home, eating strawberries and cream.”

“It hasn’t been easy for many of us,” she retorted, feeling the colour rising in her cheeks. “Almost every woman in this village has lost a husband or son. I lost the man I loved and am having a child he’ll never see. I have nothing and nobody, so don’t think it was all strawberries and cream.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked at her with understanding for the first time. “That’s rough,” he said.

“We all have to get through it somehow.” She found his gaze somehow unnerving. “Please come and see your grandmother. She thinks she has lost a husband, a son and a grandson. Seeing you would lift her spirits so much. She’s very lonely. And she has probably suffered with guilt all these years for driving you to what she thought was your death.”

“If you really think that,” he said, giving her a withering look.

“I do. I believe your grandmother has changed. When I first met her, she was cold and haughty, but she has been so kind to me—made me so welcome. I have come to be very fond of her.”

He stood like a statue, his hands resting on the top of the drystone wall, staring down at the house below them. Emily could sense the battle being waged inside him. He wanted to go home, but he was afraid he wouldn’t be welcome.

“Well, what have I got to lose?” he said at last. “I suppose it’s the right thing to do, to let her know that I’m still alive. But I’m not raising my hopes too high . . .” And he started to climb over the wall.

“So what are you doing here?” he asked as they walked up the path together. “Did she advertise for a companion or something?”

“No, I came here as a member of the Women’s Land Army to help with her garden. Then when . . .” She had been going to say, “the man I was going to marry,” but couldn’t do it. “When the man I loved was shot down, I needed a place to be right away. I needed somewhere to adjust to life with a child, but no husband. Your grandmother took me in, and I’ve been trying to help her wherever I can.”

“May one know your name?”

“It’s . . .” She hesitated before going on. “It’s Mrs Kerr.” Instantly, she regretted lying to someone as haughty yet vulnerable as Justin Charlton.

“It’s not easy being a war widow, I’m sure,” he said.

“Most of the women in this village are.”

“Really?”

“Three men have come home so far. All labourers on the home farm. Mr Soper was killed.”

“Really? Old Soper? He was as tough as nails. What about Ben Lacey?”

“He’s still alive, but he’s in no fit state to leave the hospital.”

“My God. How does she run the pub without him?”

“One of my fellow land girls is helping her out. And another is learning to operate the forge.”

“So you’ve provided a band of visiting angels, I see.” There was what she took for sarcasm in his voice.

“We’ve all tried to do what we can,” she retorted angrily. “We are all hurting. It’s somehow easier when we all band together.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m sure you’re doing a splendid job. Anyone who can stomach my grandmother for more than a few weeks must be headed for sainthood.”

“I’ve found her extremely kind,” Emily said. “And she’s hurting, too. She thinks she’s lost everyone. You’ll make her so happy.”

“That remains to be seen.” He was staring ahead, frowning. “But I’m willing to give it a try. It might be nice to see the old place, my old room . . .”

Again, she noted the wistfulness in his voice. Of course she’ll welcome him home, Emily thought. Who wouldn’t? He seems so wounded. So much in need of his family.

They reached the house, and Emily pushed open the front door. Again, Justin hesitated.

“I’ll go and see if she’s in the sitting room, shall I?” she said. “Maybe prepare her a little?”

“That would be wise.” He nodded, and followed her into the foyer. “Nothing has changed,” he said, looking around.

“I think you’ll find a lot has changed,” Emily replied. “We are down to Mrs Trelawney and two other servants. Most of the rooms are shut off, covered in dust sheets. The only fire is in the drawing room. Coal is rationed, as is everything else, but that should get better now. Wait there.”

Emily had only taken a few steps towards the sitting room door when Ethel came around the corner. She took one look at Justin and let out a scream. “A ghost! It’s a ghost! Mrs Trelawney, I’ve just seen a ghost!”

“What is that abominable noise?” Lady Charlton appeared at the sitting room door.

“It was Ethel. I’m afraid she saw—” Emily started to say, but Lady Charlton had spotted Justin. She stood, as if turned to stone.