old gardener. Everything was dug over except her rose bed.
There had to be some vision of colour and hope to look forward to, she sighed, noticing, as she returned to her morning room, the postman cycling up the drive. As she saw him pull out a telegram from his bag, she went cold.
Hester made for the drive to meet him. It took every ounce of courage to look nonchalant. Old Coleford, seeing her anxiety, waved the paper jauntily in the air.
‘Nowt to worry about, your ladyship. ’Tis only from yer son…’
She could feel the weakness of relief seeping into her limbs. It was all she could do not to snatch the paper from his fingers but she stood nodding politely.
‘Thank you, Coleford,’ she managed to say, before taking it to the bench against the south wall, and tearing it open with shaking fingers: ‘Meet me at the station. The four o’clock train. A.’
What a relief. Angus was home on leave!
The news sent her into a flurry of flower arranging, lists for Beaven the coachman to do, engagements to cancel, sending the relief maid upstairs to air his bed. There wasa menu to shop for. Angus was coming home. It was going to be just splendid!
The train was late and she was miles too early. Beaven had brought her down in the pony and trap, knowing she was impatient to be on the platform as the steam train chugged slowly into the station. The porter was hovering and the stationmaster fussing with his watch and chain.
Then doors clanged open to disgorge scruffy soldiers, unshaven, weary-faced, in muddy uniforms with kitbags on their shoulders. Boys who had travelled for days to snatch a few hours with their families on leave. Some fell into the waiting arms of their womenfolk. They all looked exhausted.
Then from the first-class compartment she saw Angus step out slowly but not in his uniform, looking ordinary somehow in a long tweed coat, carrying a suitcase. How strange. He was shuffling along like an old man and, to her horror, leaning on a walking stick.
‘Angus, darling! What a surprise!’ Hester smiled, reaching out to greet him.
‘Not now, Mother. Let’s get out of here.’ He didn’t look her in the face but shuffled over the railway bridge and out through the station gate into the trap, pulling his trilby over his face. He didn’t speak all the way home, but sat sullen, staring out into the dusky night.
Hester could hardly breathe with the shock. What on earth was going on?
Once through the hall, Angus plonked his case down and went straight to his room. She followed him up slowly, fearing the worst. Had he been cashiered out of the army for a scandal, failed his examination, found wanting inleadership? What had Angus been up to and why had Charles not warned her of this disgrace?
Opening the door, she found her son sitting on the bed, sobbing, shaking with distress like a little boy.
‘Angus! Pull yourself together and give me some explanation,’ she ordered, knowing she must be hard to bring him out of this childish display of emotion.
‘I had another bloody fit, didn’t I, right in front of everyone on parade when we were standing to attention. It’s when I get that smell…like iron filings, a metal iron smell, and the flashing lights—my fireworks, I call them—and the next thing I wake up in the hospital ward and they were prodding and poking and asking questions. I made a right tit of myself again. Why? It’s not fair just when we were shipping off to France. It’s just not fair. I’m going to miss it all, discharged on medical grounds as unfit for service,’ he grimaced. ‘All I ever wanted to do is taken from me and now I’m useless and there’s nothing wrong with me. Not even a bloody war wound to show…How can I ever show my face again? They’ll think I’m a conchie or a coward.’ He flung himself down on the counterpane. ‘Just leave me alone…’
Hester didn’t know what to say to comfort him when all she was feeling was relief that one of her boys was not to be
There had to be some vision of colour and hope to look forward to, she sighed, noticing, as she returned to her morning room, the postman cycling up the drive. As she saw him pull out a telegram from his bag, she went cold.
Hester made for the drive to meet him. It took every ounce of courage to look nonchalant. Old Coleford, seeing her anxiety, waved the paper jauntily in the air.
‘Nowt to worry about, your ladyship. ’Tis only from yer son…’
She could feel the weakness of relief seeping into her limbs. It was all she could do not to snatch the paper from his fingers but she stood nodding politely.
‘Thank you, Coleford,’ she managed to say, before taking it to the bench against the south wall, and tearing it open with shaking fingers: ‘Meet me at the station. The four o’clock train. A.’
What a relief. Angus was home on leave!
The news sent her into a flurry of flower arranging, lists for Beaven the coachman to do, engagements to cancel, sending the relief maid upstairs to air his bed. There wasa menu to shop for. Angus was coming home. It was going to be just splendid!
The train was late and she was miles too early. Beaven had brought her down in the pony and trap, knowing she was impatient to be on the platform as the steam train chugged slowly into the station. The porter was hovering and the stationmaster fussing with his watch and chain.
Then doors clanged open to disgorge scruffy soldiers, unshaven, weary-faced, in muddy uniforms with kitbags on their shoulders. Boys who had travelled for days to snatch a few hours with their families on leave. Some fell into the waiting arms of their womenfolk. They all looked exhausted.
Then from the first-class compartment she saw Angus step out slowly but not in his uniform, looking ordinary somehow in a long tweed coat, carrying a suitcase. How strange. He was shuffling along like an old man and, to her horror, leaning on a walking stick.
‘Angus, darling! What a surprise!’ Hester smiled, reaching out to greet him.
‘Not now, Mother. Let’s get out of here.’ He didn’t look her in the face but shuffled over the railway bridge and out through the station gate into the trap, pulling his trilby over his face. He didn’t speak all the way home, but sat sullen, staring out into the dusky night.
Hester could hardly breathe with the shock. What on earth was going on?
Once through the hall, Angus plonked his case down and went straight to his room. She followed him up slowly, fearing the worst. Had he been cashiered out of the army for a scandal, failed his examination, found wanting inleadership? What had Angus been up to and why had Charles not warned her of this disgrace?
Opening the door, she found her son sitting on the bed, sobbing, shaking with distress like a little boy.
‘Angus! Pull yourself together and give me some explanation,’ she ordered, knowing she must be hard to bring him out of this childish display of emotion.
‘I had another bloody fit, didn’t I, right in front of everyone on parade when we were standing to attention. It’s when I get that smell…like iron filings, a metal iron smell, and the flashing lights—my fireworks, I call them—and the next thing I wake up in the hospital ward and they were prodding and poking and asking questions. I made a right tit of myself again. Why? It’s not fair just when we were shipping off to France. It’s just not fair. I’m going to miss it all, discharged on medical grounds as unfit for service,’ he grimaced. ‘All I ever wanted to do is taken from me and now I’m useless and there’s nothing wrong with me. Not even a bloody war wound to show…How can I ever show my face again? They’ll think I’m a conchie or a coward.’ He flung himself down on the counterpane. ‘Just leave me alone…’
Hester didn’t know what to say to comfort him when all she was feeling was relief that one of her boys was not to be
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