The Victory Garden(86)

“It can’t be,” she said. “Is it really you?”

“Hello, Grandmother,” Justin said. “The wanderer returns.”

“But it’s not possible.” She put her hand to her heart. “We all thought . . .”

“Here, hold on to me.” Emily rushed forwards, as the old woman looked as if she might faint.

“I’m perfectly all right, Emily. Don’t fuss.” The old lady brushed her hand away. “It was a bit of a shock, that’s all.”

She continued to stand, staring at her grandson.

“How about inviting me in?” Justin said. “And how about some coffee? I’ve walked from the main road, and it’s freezing cold out there.”

Lady Charlton nodded abruptly. “Emily, dear, please tell Mrs Trelawney that we would like . . .” There was no need to finish the sentence. Mrs Trelawney and Ethel had both come out of the kitchen and were clinging on to each other, staring, mouths open.

“Well, don’t just stand there, woman,” Lady Charlton said. “Go and get us some coffee. Mr Justin needs warming up.”

Lady Charlton took Emily’s arm this time and allowed Emily to ease her into her favourite chair. Still Justin hesitated, standing and looking about him, before following them into the sitting room. “I used to dream about this place.”

“Where were you? What happened to you? Why did we hear nothing?” Her voice was sharp.

“He was in a German prisoner-of-war camp, Lady Charlton,” Emily said.

“So that was it, was it?” Her voice was still haughty and cold. “You gave yourself up. Surrendered to them?”

“Is that what you think?” he asked quietly.

“You made it quite clear that you did not want to fight.”

“No, I did not surrender. I went over the top with the rest of my unit, bayonets drawn as we charged against the tanks and the big guns. It was suicide. Chaps around me being blown up with every step.”

“So how did you manage to survive then?” Again, there was a note of harsh suspicion in her voice.

“I am a fast runner. I outran the rest of them and found myself amongst Germans. A chap was coming at me with a bayonet, and then a shell exploded right next to us, and when I woke up, I was in a German prison cell.”

“Then why did we hear nothing? All this time?”

He is still standing at attention, the prisoner being interrogated, Emily thought. She wanted to intervene for him, to tell the old lady to stop acting like this, to get up and hug him.

“I had a bad head wound and suffered from amnesia. I couldn’t remember who I was, where I came from. And my identity tags had been destroyed. I was going to be shot, but then they had to move out in a hurry, and so they changed their minds and I was sent to a camp. My memory gradually returned, and I gave them my name, but I could never remember my serial number. I did tell them the name of my regiment, but I suppose they couldn’t be bothered to pass it along.”

The old lady was still frowning. “An interesting tale.”

“You don’t believe me?” he demanded.

She shrugged. “You always were a good storyteller. I remember as a child you fabricated the most amazing tales to get yourself out of trouble.”

“Then what do you think happened to me such that you heard nothing for two whole years?”

“Frankly, I wondered if you’d deserted. When your body wasn’t found, I thought you’d managed to slip away and hide out in France. You do speak good French, after all.”

“If you think so poorly of me”—his voice was bitter—“then there is nothing more to be said. I suspected it would be a mistake to come back here.” He started towards the door.

“Wait. This is now officially your house, I suppose. You realize you have inherited the title. You are now Viscount Charlton. You have every right to stay here.”

Justin shook his head. “Viscount Charlton? How ridiculous. And how could I stay where I am not wanted? Goodbye, Grandmother. You don’t have to worry that I’ll turn you out of my house. I’d rather be with people who enjoy my company.” He strode out of the room.

Emily stood watching the drama play out. She glared at the old woman. “Don’t let him go!” she shouted. “Say something.” She ran after him and grabbed at his sleeve as he reached the front door. “Please don’t go. She didn’t mean those things.”

“Of course she did. She hasn’t changed one bit. She and my father happily sent me to my death, and now she’s rather annoyed that I’ve turned up alive.”

“But this is your home.”

“Apparently not.”

“She just said you had inherited it.”

He gave her a withering look. “Obviously, I’m not going to turn her out, and there is no way I’d want to live under the same roof as her.”

“Where will you go?” she asked. “What will you do?”

“I wasn’t planning to come back here anyway,” he said. “I’m staying with some pals in London. I’m going to write. About the war. To let people know what it was like.” He managed a little smile. “You shouldn’t stay here. You’re too good for her. Too kind. She’ll let you down in the end, too.”