0 comments/ 19372 views/ 0 favorites Like Father Like Son Ch. 03 By: smilodonwriter July 1916 Bethan Phillip was reluctant to send a telegram home to announce his unexpected arrival: the appearance of the telegram boy was viewed as an ill omen now at home. This would be particularly the case with the battle raging across in France. He had heard that over sixty thousand British and Empire soldiers had died on that first morning as he watched the mines go up. Casualties had been mounting with each successive day of abortive attacks as the offensive ground on. He therefore decided to go to Dorset unannounced but, instead, to send a telegram to Bethan asking if she, too, could get leave. This done, he hastened to Waterloo Station and caught the early express to Dorchester. There was a branch line train through to Bridport a little later in the day but, in a fit of extravagance, he hired the station’s elderly taxi to take him home. He marvelled at how little changed the countryside seemed but noted, with a heavy heart, the large number of black wreaths that adorned the cottage doors as they trundled through the little villages. More land appeared to have gone under the plough than was customary in peacetime and he noted with mild surprise that many of the farm workers he glimpsed through the hedges were women. The logic, he supposed, was inescapable. With more and more of the Nation’s men under arms, it was left to the old, the very young and the womenfolk to keep things ticking at home. He found himself growing more relaxed as the old car wheezed on. It slowed to almost walking pace on some of the steeper hills and rattled and swung alarmingly when it gathered speed on the down-slopes. After about an hour, they swung in throughbetweenthrough the pillared entrance togates the long gravel drive that led up to the house. He paid the cabman, thirty shillings and sixpence, tipped him a further five shillings and walked up the steps of the old house. Mrs Bugler, his parents’ housekeeper, dropped the vase of flowers she was carrying when she saw him walk in. “Why Mr Phillip! Oh my goodness, look what you made me do! I’ll go and tell the Master that you’re here. Won’t they be surprised!” “Good morning, Mrs B. You’re looking as lovely as ever I see. No, don’t disturb them; I’d rather go in unannounced, if you don’t mind. Where are they, by the way?” “They’re taking tea on the terrace, sir, just took it out myself not five minutes gone. I’ll go and fetch another cup, shall I?” “That would be splendid, Mrs B. I think I’ll just go through now and surprise them.” Phillip strode through the familiar rooms. A sense of peace enveloped him. He loved the old house with its mellow hamstone facings and gabled windows. His father had bought the place before he was born and he had known no other home than this. The estate included two tenanted farms and a row of cottages for the workers. As a boy he had roamed every inch of it and was often to be found in some cottage or other, drinking homemade cordial and listening to stories of the ‘old days.’ Phillip’s father was a popular landlord who did his best for the estate dwellers and never dunned those who were late with the quarterly rents. His mother enjoyed equal status: she had started an elementary school for the Estate children and paid for the teacher out of her own resources. She also was the giver of the Great Annual Picnic – an event awaited with eager anticipation by young and old alike. It was natural, then, that their only son would be welcome wherever his juvenile legs carried him. He made his entrance through the French doors from the library. His mother gave a little cry and then sprang up to hug him. His father was half a step behind with a beaming smile and outstretched hand. “Phillip, you utter hound! Why on earth didn’t you warn us? How long are you home for?” “Phillip, your eyes! My God, have you been wounded? Why didn’t you send a telegram?” “Mother, my eyes are fine, just a touch of conjunctivitis – it’s lucky for me too, it’s the reason I’m home. I’ve two weeks’ sick leave. And I didn’t send a telegram because I thought it might give you a fright - you know, what with the big push and everything.” “Well, I must say you’re a sight for sore eyes, my boy. Oh I say, what a dreadful joke!” “And I think he looks tired, William. Have you been getting enough to eat, you look thinner, Phillip?” “Oh, they feed us like fighting cocks, Mother, much better than the infantry. And we go home to a warm bed every night, no long spells lying in mud and dugouts for the Flying Corps. I should say not!” “Don’t nag the boy, Beatrice. He looks fine to me, apart from the eyes, that is. Now, Phillip, what are you going to do with this unforeseen bounty of yours, eh? I dare say you’ll want to be off to London, dancing and chasing the girls, what?” “No, father, I don’t feel in the least like going to London and dancing. As a matter of fact, I’ve invited someone to come here, if you don’t mind awfully much. I’m not sure she’ll be able to get away but I sent her a telegram and hope for a reply later today or tomorrow.” “Ah, and who is this mysterious lady? Not an actress, I hope!” “No, father. Her name is Bethan Meredith and she’s a nurse – one of those who looked after me at Bentley Hall. You might even have seen her when you visited me. A very pretty girl with the most wonderful eyes.” Phillip’s mother laughed delightedly. “I cannot speak for your father, of course, Phillip, but I didn’t come to Bentley Hall to look at the nurses. Of course, we’ll be delighted to receive your friend. The Lord knows this old place has enough rooms and it will be nice to have some young people around for a change, won’t it William?” “Yes, of course. Only right that a young chap like you should find himself a pretty girl or two. How long will she be staying?” “I really don’t know, father. It depends how much leave they will allow. Sister Hallam’s a good stick, though, and I’m sure she’ll put a word in for Bethan.” The rest of the morning passed in gentle conversation. At Phillip’s request, they shied away from the topic of the war and his father spoke of the running of the estate instead. Even here, the war cast its shadow, as every so often, he had to explain to Phillip why someone different was now doing a certain job, the previous incumbent having enlisted. It seemed to Phillip that the war tainted everything. A subtle mood of depression descended on him and he resolved to go for a walk after lunch and ‘blow away the cobwebs,’ as Mrs Bugler would say. They took luncheon in the small dining room and, after the meal, Phillip took a couple of cigars from the humidor on the mantel and went to his room to change. He put on his walking britches, a woollen shirt and tie and his favourite old Norfolk jacket. He found a pair of stout shoes in the boot room and, feeling heartened by the change into familiar, comfortable clothing, set out for his walk. The path skirted the rose garden and ran down beside the old coach house, across the stable yard and out into the open fields of Home Farm. His pace quickened once away from the house and he found the years dropping away. He had followed this track countless times in the past, in younger, happier days. He saw the well-rounded figure of Betsy Stevenson and waved a greeting. Betsy was the daughter of the tenant of Home FFarm and it was with her that Phillip had enjoyed his first adolescent fumblings behind the stables after one Great Annual Picnic. She was married now and her young husband was a farrier corporal in the Field Artillery. He had been employed as a groom on the estate and was reckoned to be ‘mustard’ with horses. The path rose up in front of him and he began to climb. The hedgerows were a riot of wildflowers. There was the pink of the foxgloves and campion, here the blue of speedwell and the deeper glow of violets. He was sorry to have missed the bluebells that carpeted the woodland floor each year in May. He thought, too, of the apple and cherry blossom that turned the winter-stark trees to glory even before the leaves were fully out in springtime. His heart was full of love for the soft countryside. Where else did the beech trees grow just so? And in what other country stood such majestic oaks and stately birches? He moved upwards through the Holt, striding easily. Dead leaves and beech mast cushioned his footfalls and peace invaded his soul. He burst out of the woodland onto the hilltop and turned to look back. Below him, the old house drowsed in the valley, its stone facades turned golden by the rich, warm sunlight. He paused and took in the sweep of the land. How neat it all was, how right! After the open expanses of France and the rolling chalk-land of the Somme, the small, irregular fields with their ancient hedges pleased his eye beyond measure. He turned again and walked down a slight ridge to another summit where the trees ringed the hill but had not ventured to the top, leaving a green expanse open to the sky. He climbed up again through the beech and hornbeam until once more he stood in the open. From here, he could see down into the village itself. He watched a horse-drawn farm cart amble along the white road that led up to the farm on the far side of the valley. Here and there the fields were a lighter green where the haymakers had left their mark. Birdsong drifted from the wood below and he felt he could almost breathe in the tranquillity. It was to this very spot that he had willed himself during the worst moments in the trenches. He drew strength from its normality and now, as he reacquainted himself with the vista before him, he renewed his vow to build his house here. It would need to be of local hamstone, of course. Nothing too fancy, he thought, and a stable block on the reverse slope. It had to fit within this landscape so nothing too grand or modern. He would ask Bethan what she needed. He could always add a nursery later and maybe an extra bedroom or two. Then he caught himself; “putting the cart before the horse, old son,” he murmured and then, with a shrug, walked on. He walked all afternoon, over the hills to Netherbury, past the old Roman fort and home by way of Stoke Abbot. He stopped briefly in the village square for a pint of bitter at the inn. He was hot and thirsty but utterly at peace. The war had receded from his horizons; now he could relax and revel in being home. One or two familiar faces raised their glasses to him but no one pestered him for news of the war. He felt he had stepped back into his old life just as he donned his old clothes that afternoon. All it needed now was a positive answer from Bethan. **************************** Bethan Meredith was changing a dressing when the telegram arrived. Sister Hallam called her away. “Telegram for you, Nurse Meredith. And you’ve no need to worry, whoever sent it paid for a reply.” Bethan ripped open the envelope and read: “HOME ON SICK LEAVE UNTIL END OF MONTH STOP PLEASE COME DORSET SOONEST STOP DESPERATE TO SEE YOU STOP PHILLIP STOP” She felt herself redden under the grinning gaze of the telegram boy. She whirled away and ran to Sister Hallam who stood, hands on hips, looking formidable but with a give-away twinkle in her eye. “I suppose it’s from that young man you spend hours writing to?” Bethan nodded her agreement. Her mouth was dry and she couldn’t seem to find her voice. “And I equally suppose that he is home and wants to see you?” Again, she could only nod. “Well, I’ll have to ask Matron, but I, personally, can do without you for a little while. Let’s see, you haven’t had any leave since you got here, have you? No, I thought as much. I will need you tomorrow but you can go on Thursday. Four, no, five days I think.” Bethan finally managed to stammer out a few words of thanks but Sister Hallam brushed them aside. “No, you’ve earned a little break. Now go and send your reply and get back to your duties. I can’t have you mooning about the hallway all day.” A thrill of pure happiness swept through her and before she could think what she was doing, she leaned forward and kissed the older woman on the cheek. Then she sped back to the door and wrote her reply on the little form the telegram boy handed to her: “HAVE FIVE DAYS FROM THURSDAY STOP PLEASE WRITE TRAVEL DIRECTIONS STOP BETHAN STOP” She found a sixpence in her pocket and tipped the grinning boy. He rode away whistling ‘Tipperary.’ Returning to the ward, she found herself all thumbs and the young officer she was bandaging mocked her gently. They had all heard the exchanges in the hall and took the opportunity to rib her mercilessly. “Oh, don’t say you are leaving us, dear Nurse Meredith.” “No! Say not so. We would all be desolate without you.” “I say, Nurse, who is the lucky fellow?” “Will you come and spend five days with me, Nurse Meredith? I promise you, you would never forget it!” Once this would have embarrassed her beyond words but after six or so months in the company of young men, she was able to give as good as she got. “If I could leave you lot of cheeky monkeys, I would, now, wouldn’t I? But don’t any of you fret, I’ll only be gone the five days. Then I’ll be back to make you all miserable again. And put that smelly pipe out, Mr Wilson, you know Matron hates it on the ward. And as for you, Mr Larimore, I would sooner spend five days in the company of my father’s sheep. At least they have better manners, don’t they?” The others cheered this sally and started ribbing Larimore for lacking the manners of a sheep. Their conversation turned more earthy but they were rapidly subdued by the return of Sister Hallam. “Officers and gentlemen, are you? I have heard better conversation in a four-ale bar! Now remember your manners, our Nurses here are young ladies and I will not tolerate such rudery.” This brought a submissive mumbling of “Yes, Sister” and “Very good, Sister.” She scowled about the ward once more, pointedly sniffed the air by Wilson’s bed and stalked out. “How can you stand that old dragon, Nurse Meredith?” one of the young officers asked. Bethan whirled in outrage. “How dare you call Sister Hallam such a thing? I’ll have you know that she is kindness itself. If you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head then, pray, don’t speak to me at all.” Sister Hallam heard the exchange and smiled. She thought now would be a good time to go and talk to Matron. For all that Bethan Meredith was only nineteen years old, she had the makings of a first rate nurse. There would be no problem with the leave, she would see to that! ******************************** The telegram was waiting for Phillip on the hall table as he entered the house. His heart fluttered wildly as he saw it and for a second or two he stood stock-still, unable to bring himself to open the buff envelope. “Courage, man,” he muttered and ripped it open, staring in joy when he read the contents. His mother entered the hall and saw him standing there, transfixed by the message in his hands. “From your demeanour, Phillip, I believe you have the reply for which you were hoping?” “Yes, mother. Bethan may come for five days from Thursday. Isn’t that spiffing?” “Yes, dear, spiffing. Now hurry and dress, for dinner is nearly ready and you know your father hates to be kept waiting for his victuals.” Dinner passed in a blur for Phillip. He tried to make conversation but several times his attention wandered into a private reverie. He missed the knowing looks that passed between his parents and barely tasted the food. Had he been asked what he had eaten, he would have been unable to say. His thoughts looped and spun around Bethan. Five whole days! He could hardly believe his good fortune. He planned each day in his head and then re-planned in case the weather was inclement. Then he rejected all of those plans as not good enough and started the whole process over again. Yet everything he thought of seemed inadequate. He gnashed his teeth in anguish and then, before he could catch himself blurted it all out. “I say, what shall I do with Bethan. I mean, I want her to have a really tiptop time but, for the life of me, I cannot think how!” His mother smiled. “Phillip, if she is the person you believe her to be then there is no reason to worry. Show her the estate, take her on a picnic. Use the governess cart and take her to the seaside. Do whatever you want. But I would say, if she is anything like as smitten as you so obviously are, dear, just be with her. It is probably all she will ask.” “Oh, do you think so, mother, truly? I do so hope you’re right.” His father chuckled. “I was the same when I met your mother. Went right off my fodder for a fortnight!” He slapped his ample girth. “Could do with losing me appetite for a bit now, what?” They all laughed and Phillip felt immeasurably better. His mother was right – wasn’t she always? If Bethan Meredith was the girl for him she had much better see him ‘warts and all.’ With this decided, the evening improved and he was even glad to join his parents in the library for a hand or two of whist after dinner. A decanter of Port stood by the card table and another of Madeira. Phillip and his father smoked cigars contentedly and, apart from the soft rasp of the cards and the occasional muted expression of triumph or disappointment, they played mostly in silence, happy in each other’s company. His mother retired at about ten o’clock and this left Phillip and his father alone. Phillip had the suspicion that this had been planned. His father lit a fresh cigar and, when he had it drawing to his satisfaction, turned his attention to his son. “Now, Phillip old man, I’m not going to come the heavy-handed paterfamilias but your mother and I think it’s time we had a talk. How old are you now? Twenty one, is it?” “You know very well, father, that I shall be twenty two in a month.” “Ah, well, yes. Be that as it may, it is certainly time we discussed your future.” “Father, I’m not so terribly sure that I have a future. The war, you know.” “Nonsense, my boy. This big push on the Somme will soon put an end it, the newspapers all say so!” “Father, I don’t care much for what the newspapers say. The big push is a failure. As far as I can work out it failed on the very first morning. I was talking to some of the chaps on the leave boat;; walking wounded, you know. They told me that half our shells didn’t detonate and it was the same as at Loos - large stretches of the wire uncut and the Huns snug in their deep bunkers just waiting for the bombardment to finish. Then they’re up on the parapet like a long dog after a rabbit, machine guns to the fore. Some battalions lost over seventy-five percent of their strength just negotiating the gaps in our wire. You see, they’d been marked with white tape. It gave the Hun machine gunners a perfect aiming-point.” “I am sure they were exaggerating. Shell-shocked, I expect. Does funny things to a fellow, I’ve heard. All the communiqués are quite clear that we are advancing. Why, I saw a map in the Times this very morning. Showed we’ve pushed the blighters back almost everywhere.” “And the scale of the maps, father? Did you also observe how large scale those maps are? At our best we’ve advanced little over a mile. In some places, we haven’t managed to get forward at all.” “That’s all by-the-by, Phillip. I still say we need to discuss the future. After all, you are my only heir and neither your mother nor I is getting any younger.” “Now I know you are talking nonsense, father. You’re little above fifty. You’ve both got years ahead of you yet!” “I do so pray, my boy, but that’s all beside the point.” “Well, if there is a point, father, I rather wish you would bring yourself to it.” “Very well then. This young lady of yours, who is she? Do you know her people?” Like Father Like Son Ch. 03 Beatrice Welford-Barnes was very favourably impressed. She had harboured some doubts when Phillip had announced his invitation. She had even felt a little uncomfortable with the idea that her only son now had another woman in his life. It scarcely seemed possible that he was old enough! She rebuked herself for being foolish and determined to make the best of the forthcoming visit. Now, having finally met the young lady in question, although, in truth, she was little more than a girl, she found herself pleasantly surprised. Bethan Meredith was extremely sensible and down to earth. She seemed wholly lacking in any guile and put on no airs and graces. Beatrice herself was a countrywoman and she delighted in the fact that Bethan was, too. Country living kept one’s feet firmly on the ground. Yes, she decided, she approved of Phillip’s choice. Miss Meredith would do; she would do very well indeed. Back on the terrace, Phillip and his father smoked cigars and sat contentedly. William Welford-Barnes was content because he saw his wife taking over and he knew from long experience that Beatrice was a far better judge of character than he would ever be. Still, he thought, it would be a damned shame if the girl did turn out to be a dud. She was as pretty as a picture with eyes that did something to a man. All his instincts told him that the girl was a good’un. However, as in so many things, he would defer to his wife. He gave a far-away sort of smile as he remembered his own courtship of Beatrice. How lovely she had been, still was, actually, and how headstrong! Once she had set her cap at William Welford-Barnes none of the other fillies had stood a chance. Somehow she had contrived to seduce him in her parents’ summerhouse and the next evening, they were engaged to be married. Sometimes he still wondered how it all had happened. Still, he was jolly glad it had! Phillip was simply delighted that Bethan was there. It had never occurred to him that she might be nervous. He was walking on a personal cloud of happiness and he felt sure that everyone would rub along together just fine. He looked up and saw her coming, arm in arm with his mother like two old friends,, and he thought his heart would burst for joy. Their heads were leaning in towards each other and they were obviously deep in conversation. His father also marked their return and read the signs for himself. Good, he thought, the girl has passed the ‘Beatrice test.’ “And how did you come to be a nurse?” “Well, I wanted to ‘do my bit’, see? My elder brother had gone to the Navy and my Dad, well, he’s managed on his own since my Mam died. There was a lady in the village, used to be my headmistress at the Grammar School. She suggested I should join the F.A.N.Y. She said I had the ‘right temperament’ for it, didn’t she? So I took her advice and joined up.” “But surely, it must be very distressing to see all those young men knocked about so?” “Well, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t. But more, it’s that they need us so much, isn’t it? You can’t be thinking about your own tender feelings when there’re others in need. And we’re lucky really. It’s the girls who get to see them when they’re first brought in that I admire. We hear the most dreadful things!” “Well,, I think you’re jolly brave.” “Brave? Me? Oh no. I’m not brave at all. The girls in France are the brave ones. I don’t know that I shall go even when I am twenty-one. We’re not supposed to go France if we’re younger. Some girls have managed it, I hear.” The conversation trailed off as they mounted the steps onto the terrace. Phillip suggested a walk and Bethan readily agreed. Then her face fell as she explained that she didn’t really have any suitable clothing for walking in the hills. Phillip’s mother came to the rescue and promised to find something suitable. Bethan was whisked away and Phillip went to change into his walking clothes. Fifteen minutes later they were following the path past the stables and out into the fields. Bethan was wearing an old riding habit belonging to Phillip’s mother. They were much of a size and Beatrice had even found a straw boater to shield Bethan’s fair skin from the sun. Phillip shyly caught her hand and smiled down at her. “Well, what do you think, then?” “I think your parents are lovely. Your mother has a way of putting people at ease and your father’s a poppet. But this house! You never told me it was so big, did you?” “I suppose I don’t think about it; being big, I mean. I grew up in it so, to me, it’s simply home.” They walked slowly up the hill. Phillip was anxious not to tire her although in that, he was in error. Bethan, like any nurse, was well used to hard work and long hours. Added to which, she was a farmer’s daughter and thought nothing of walking several miles from her home to the nearest village. Bethan was content to amble along. It gave her the opportunity to take in the views. She found herself trying to see the land through Phillip’s eyes. He was always writing about how lovely it was. She was soon wholly in accord. They stopped for a while to watch a double hand of crows mobbing a kestrel. More and more of the raucous black birds appeared and, eventually, they drove the predator off. Phillip led her through the woods and over the ridge to the site where he proposed to build his house. He didn’t say anything at first but simply allowed her to drink in the view. “Oh, Phillip, it’s absolutely lovely!” “Yes, isn’t it? D’you know, I’ve planned to build myself a house up here. What do you think?” “I can’t imagine a more delightful setting. Mind, you’ll have to be careful. The wrong sort of house could ruin it.” Phillip was elated by her reply. It was exactly what he had thought not three days before! He then began to talk rapidly, painting her a picture of his ideal home. They were soon enthralled by the prospect and began to plan in detail; which rooms should go where, where the main entrance should be and what sort of flowers there should be in the garden. They were still discussing it hours later as they walked back down the hill. Beatrice observed their animated conversation and the easy way they swung their joined hands as they walked. Happiness seemed to radiate from the couple and she found herself smiling with pleasure just to see them so. As they came under the archway into the walled garden, Phillip swept her up into his arms and hugged her tightly. “Oh, Bethan! I’m so glad you like it. Isn’t it an absolute piece of heaven?” She smiled up at him, loving the way he looked just then. “It’s lovely, Phillip.” “And so are you.” She blushed and looked and down at her feet. “You’re very kind to say so, I’m sure.” “Oh no, Bethan, I mean it. I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen!” “And is that all I am. Phillip? Another pretty girl to add to the list?” Phillip’s chagrin was so obvious that Bethan instantly regretted her words. He stood there mute, shaking his head in bewilderment. Her heart lurched with the sudden fear of having hurt him. “I’m sorry, Phillip,” she said in a small voice. “ I didn’t mean that you were, you know… It’s only that I don’t want to be a passing fancy for any man. There, I’ve hurt your feelings. You mustn’t mind me. Sometimes things don’t quite come out the right way, see?” “Bethan, you are far more to me than any passing fancy. I think about you night and day. I really do. I can solemnly promise you that I am not toying with your affections and I never would.” At that, she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek but somehow, his face turned and she felt his lips on hers and his arms close about her once more. She was startled and she felt her heart race from the surprise – and something else. She was aware of his tongue pressing against her lips and she gave a start as her lips parted and it slipped into her mouth. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant and she relaxed a little, beginning to enjoy that soft probing. She began to push back with her own tongue and her arms went up and round his neck, seemingly of their own accord. She leaned into him and kissed him back with a will. Suddenly it was the right and natural thing to do. She had the impression that her body had grown light and she thought she floated there, only prevented from drifting away by his anchoring embrace. Their bodies moulded together perfectly, like two halves of a whole, long separated but now reunited. She felt the hardening pressure of his erection against her stomach and some part of her welcomed this stranger. She was no longer able to think at all. She was just being. She felt more intensely alive at that moment than at any time in all her nineteen years. Infinitely slowly, it seemed, he relaxed the pressure and pulled a little back from her, his arms still around her waist but leaning back, now, to look at her. His face was set somewhere between ecstatic joy and deep concern. She knew what he was going to ask and placed a warning finger on his lips briefly before leaning in and kissing him again, lightly this time. Then she had to step away and break the spell. Beatrice observed all of this with a bittersweet sensation. Her little boy was a man – in truth, he had been for some years – and now he belonged to another woman. Their joy in each other was almost palpable. They seemed, to her eyes, to shine with it. Intuitively, she sensed that this was their first kiss and it made her heart melt to think of it. And then she was glad that she that seen it. She had found herself responding to Bethan as she had least expected. Like Phillip, she had thought of little else for the last few days, although for somewhat different reasons. She had been anxious. She knew her son was not experienced. There had been too little time and opportunity. She had had visions of some vamp seducing him; he was, in her mind, vulnerable. She had certainly not expected the sweet and unaffected girl she discovered. Beatrice had been wary at first, thinking that perhaps it could all be part of the act. Her walk and talk with Bethan had rapidly convinced her otherwise. Certainly, the girl lacked sophistication, but was that necessarily a bad thing? The sophisticated young women she had met on rare forays to London had left her cold. No, young Miss Meredith was exactly right for her son. With her help, Bethan would make a very suitable future mistress of Pitton House. Of that, she was sure. ******************************* The next day dawned chilly and grey. A stiff south-westerly had sprung up and the air bore the tang of salt. Threatening clouds scudded overhead, driven on by the freshening wind. At first, Phillip was disappointed by the change in the weather but then he decided it would be good for Bethan to see the area in good moods and bad. He had been up with the lark and waited impatiently for the rest of the household to rise. His mother was the next to appear and she put a loving hand to his cheek and smiled. No words were necessary. The touch alone was sufficient for him to know that he had his parents’ approval. About five minutes afterwards, Bethan arrived. Phillip felt that familiar whirling sensation, as if his heart was attempting somersaults inside his chest. Her dark eyes appeared to be shining and she gave him a smile that penetrated the gloom outside and lit up the entire world. His father followed moments after and Mrs Bugler brought in the breakfast. Bethan had never seen such an array. There were kippers, poached haddock, kedgeree, devilled kidneys, bacon, and eggs prepared three different ways. Best of all, the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled the small dining room. She had the feeling that all this had been laid on for her benefit but none of the family evinced the slightest surprise. Soon she was tucking in with relish. Hospital food was never great and she was almost always hungry. Mrs Bugler returned with mountains of hot buttered toast and there was honey and homemade preserves. Unwittingly, and largely because her mouth was full, Bethan observed another family ritual. There was to be no talking at breakfast until everyone had finished eating. At last, replete and happy, she pushed away her plate and sat back. Her eyes were met by three smiling faces and she was suddenly aware of a great longing to belong to this obviously happy family. “What would you like to do today, Bethan?” “Oh, please, Phillip, don’t feel you have to entertain me. I’m happy enough just to be here. And I’m sure there are things that need doing around the farm, er, I mean the estate. I’d really like to lend a hand. I mean, that’s what I’m used to, isn’t it?” Phillip’s father soon found that she had a very keen understanding of a farm’s accounts and Bethan spent the first part of the morning tidying up paperwork while Phillip and his father replaced some broken fencing and sorted animals for market. Bethan soon learnt that the estate was mainly supported by wool production but, since the outbreak of war, had also branched out into rearing animals for slaughter. She finished her work by eleven o’clock and joined Beatrice in the morning room for tea. “Bethan, I cannot tell you how delighted we are that you have come to visit Phillip. He was positively insufferable before you came and I dare say he will be the same after you have gone back to the hospital. Oh dear, that sounded wrong. What I meant to say, my dear, is that you shall be welcome here anytime, whether Phillip is at home or not.” “That’s most kind, Mrs Welford-Barnes. Indeed, it is most kind of you to allow me to stay.” “Not at all! And between you and I, I think I’d prefer it if you called me Beatrice. It won’t make me feel quite so old, if you take my meaning?” “I’m sure you’re not old at all, Mrs Welford.., I mean Beatrice. It is lovely here, though, and I should like to visit again.” “Just visit, my dear?” Bethan coloured to the roots of her hair and looked away. “I did just happen to see you and Phillip from the terrace last evening. No, don’t be embarrassed, dear, I heartily approve. My boy is not one of those ‘men of the world.’ I believe that you are both innocents and nothing could be more fitting, in my view, than that you discover life together. Now, I promise we shall not have this conversation ever again, but, for what it is worth, my dear, you have our blessing, come what may.” Bethan’s mind was in turmoil. No words came and she was suddenly conscious that she was sitting, mouth agape, like a stranded fish. She summoned every last ounce of her tattered composure and managed a weak smile of thanks. She collected her scattered thoughts just as the men entered. Phillip reached down and squeezed her hand gently before helping himself to tea. That brief contact steadied her and she resolved not to be taken aback by anything else that happened during her stay. It made her feel like a schoolgirl all over again – all this blushing and stammering – it would not do at all! Phillip and Bethan spent the rest of the day, with a brief interval for lunch, walking over the estate. Phillip showed her each of the farms and told her something of the tenants. Bethan found all this intriguing. Her father owned his own land and she found it hard to imagine him being beholden to anyone, however nice and understanding they might be. She soon came to see that Phillip’s family viewed their privileged position as having a matching obligation. Landed gentry they may be, but they were also central to the well being of the community at large. She soon learned that landlord and tenant were interdependent. For the relationship to work, there needed to be a healthy respect on both sides. And yet she could also see that this ancient way of life was under threat. Men returning from the war would not slip happily back into the old ways. Already, there was a new mood in the land. This part of Dorset may be slower to change than most places but change it would have to, whether it liked it or not. She voiced these concerns to Phillip who frowned but did not deny that she had the right of it. “Too many of the best of our people will not make it through the war. I do understand Kitchener’s thinking when he called for the brightest and the best, we shall need them if we are ever to win. But, oh, the cost, Bethan! I fear we shall never replace those whom we lose; that our nation will never be the same when this beastly war is over.” “Maybe some things need to change, Phillip. Not everything was perfect before the war, you know. I’ve seen the miners thrown out of their homes when they went on strike. I’ve seen tenants put off their farms when they couldn’t pay the rent. I know you would never do that but some landowners do. Yes, I think some things have to change. After all, if it was so good, how come we’re now in this dreadful war?” “To stop Germany from trying to rule Europe. Just as we had to fight Napoleon when he tried it.” “And did the Germans really want to rule us all, then?” “That’s what they say, Bethan. I have to confess that I really never thought so. There just seemed too much blood everywhere. Everyone was spoiling for a fight.” “But why did we get involved? We are an island and the Navy would never let anyone come here, would they now?” “Well, we guaranteed Belgium that we would uphold their neutrality. The Germans invaded Belgium to get to France. They’d been planning since the year I was born. Once they marched into Belgium, we were committed.” “Nobody knew what it all meant then, did they though? I remember the crowds all out in the streets cheering because we were going to war.” “I know; I was there. We marched through Southampton behind our band and the people came out to cheer us on our way. All the ships’ sirens blew when we sailed. And everyone was saying it would be over by Christmas, that the French and tthe Russians would crush Germany between them. We were told we were an expeditionary force and only there because of our treaty obligations.” They walked on in silence. Phillip’s mood turned as gloomy as the day. Bethan wasn’t quite sure how to deal with him. Part of her wanted to tell him to snap out of it while another part simply wished to hold him and tell him that everything would come right. Instead, she took his hand and gave a companionable little squeeze. He looked down at her and she smiled at him. His eyes looked fogged and distant and his brow was furrowed. She raised his hand to her mouth and kissed his fingers. She struggled to find exactly the right words to soothe him but nothing came to mind so she wisely opted for silence. He continued to stare at her and slowly, his brow cleared and his eyes saw her again. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Sorry, my love, just a touch of the ‘black dog,’ as father would say.” “Black dog?” “It’s father’s expression for a fit of the melancholies. Sometimes I think that the whole war thing is just a piece of monumental folly. Perhaps, instead of countries going to war with each other, they should put all those jingoistic old men in a great big boxing ring and let them whale away at each other. Last man standing’s the winner. And it would provide good sport for everyone else, what do you think?” “Oh, can you imagine it? King George and Kaiser Bill indulging in fisticuffs! And how about Emperor Franz Josef and the Tsar of Russia? Then we could have all those silly old generals like Lord Kitchener, well, not him, because he’s dead, but Poppa Joffre, then and that horrid old German, Falkenhayn or something. What a spectacle they would make!” They walked on, adding any other names they could think of until they had exhausted their supply of commanders and politicians. They had fallen into that easy intimacy which exists between old friends or young lovers. Time flew by when they were in each other’s company and dragged on leaden feet when they were apart. Their conversation ranged across many subjects. Bethan wanted to know all there was to know about Phillip. She quizzed him on his childhood, his schooling, his likes and dislikes. Phillip was similarly enthralled and hung on her every word as though each was a divine revelation. And so they passed that day and the next and the one after that; walking the hills and talking, feeling their way gently into one another’s hearts.