A Song in the Night (30 page)

The hall was filling up quickly when they arrived. Victor Hely-Hutchinson’s
‘Carol Symphony’
was playing in the background as they queued up at the serving hatch for drinks. Rosie felt as though she’d stepped back in time.

Cassie turned to her. “Did you enjoy it, love?”

Rosie nodded. “Yes, I did.” Looking at Cassie’s gentle face, she felt she wanted to say something positive. “I don’t normally go to church. It takes a bit of getting used to. But this morning was nice.”

Cassie smiled. “Good, I’m glad. By the way, Rosie, you’re looking very pretty today. That jumper’s gorgeous – it really makes your dark hair stand out.”

Rosie felt herself flushing. She instinctively looked down at the cream-coloured top and smoothed it straight. It was one that Mel had helped her choose; a flattering long-line style with a cowl neck, in the softest angora.
Bet it makes my bright pink face stand out too,
she thought, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the back door swing open. Jonathon stepped inside and glanced around the hall. Rosie willed her face to cool down, but to no avail. Within seconds he had joined them.

“Hi everybody! Happy Christmas!” He kissed Cassie’s cheek and shook Ed warmly by the hand. Extending a hand to Rosie, Jonathon grinned at Ed and Cassie. “I met this young lady the other day. I’m afraid she came a cropper in the churchyard. I reckon that new gardener needs sacking; she could have broken her neck.” He turned his eyes to Rosie and she saw the twinkle in them. “Thankfully she’s agreed not to sue.”

Rosie was relieved. That had explained things anyway. Once they’d all been served, the group moved to a corner of the hall. Rosie was just wondering how to broach the subject of the diary when a couple came over to talk to Ed and Cassie, enquiring about Beth. Rosie swallowed hard and seized her chance.

“I’ve brought something to show you.”

Jonathon seemed curious. “You
have?
” He looked around. Nearby there were two empty chairs by a small table. They went over and sat down.

Rosie opened her handbag and pulled out the diary. “You remember me telling you about this the other day?”

Jonathon nodded and stared at the old notebook, a look of fascination spreading across his features.

“Well,” Rosie continued, “the other night I remembered something. I was just dropping off to sleep when it suddenly came to me. Here … it’s in one of the entries.” She opened the diary and carefully passed it to him.

Jonathon took the book from her hands with a gentleness that Rosie found oddly touching. For a few moments he gazed down at it, letting it rest on his palms as though it was some precious treasure. Then Rosie heard his voice softly muttering the words.

Fletre (billets) August 14th 1916

Yesterday I got chance for a good conversation with the other chap – my fellow rescuer. He’s Pte Philip Bocking, known to most, it seems, as Boxer …

Jonathon glanced up at her, his eyes wide. “Philip Bocking?” He read on. “
A Yorkshireman …
a bit of a religious type too … .
Oh wow, Rosie, I can hardly believe it. This is amazing.” He shook his head incredulously.

Rosie felt quietly pleased. “Do you think it could be him?”

Jonathon looked up from the page. “Well, it’s not a very common name, is it –
Bocking?
Wonder if he’s got an army record somewhere. Are there no more clues to his identity?”

Rosie thought for a moment. “Hang on. You know this uncle – er
great
uncle, or whatever he was. Did he have any brothers?
This
guy did. He was a chaplain – name of Nathanael.” She turned the pages gently until she found the entry about Boxer’s brother.

Jonathon read it and frowned. “Well, obviously there was my great, great granddad, but I don’t think he fought. I’ve a feeling there
was
another brother, but I can’t be sure.” His face suddenly broke into a smile. “I know someone who could tell us though. My great grandmother, Maisie.” He looked intently at Rosie, his blue eyes filling with excitement. “Rosie – how do you fancy coming to meet her?”

____________

Rosie spent the rest of Christmas day at Oak Lodge. Beth’s two brothers and their families came over for dinner and stayed until late in the evening. The day was filled with games and songs, memories and tales. At one point, Cassie even played a few ballads on the piano. There were calls for Ciaran to accompany her on the violin, which he eventually did. Rosie felt a rush of pride as she watched him. How brave he seemed to her. How brave and how sad.

“You’d make a smashing fiddle player!” Josh enthused as the music came to an end. “I know an Irish band that’s after someone like you. I reckon they’d snap you up.”

Ciaran shook his head with a smile and began to put his instrument back into its case. Suddenly, Josh’s daughter, Meg, made a new request. “Auntie Beth, won’t
you
have a go?”

Rosie saw Ciaran and Beth exchange glances. Beth hesitated for a moment, then gestured to Ciaran to pass her the violin. Cassie gently began to play again, and after a few bars Beth joined her. A hush fell over the room. One by one, the family members closed their eyes and listened. Rosie stared into the fire. Her mind went back to the Laureate Hall and the concert. How different things had been just a couple of months ago. The whole family had been riding high that night. She looked furtively round the room.
Poor things. How could they have known back then? This is the last Christmas they’ll ever do this.

When Beth had finished, everyone applauded and made a fuss of her. Rosie caught her eye and Beth winked with a knowing smile. Rosie noticed that she was trembling, as though the effort of playing had exhausted her. But she humoured her family, smiling and pretending to bow, just as she had two months earlier. Rosie couldn’t help but be impressed at her fortitude.

That night, realising it was going to be impossible to keep secret her forthcoming trip to see Maisie, Rosie decided to tell Beth about her discovery on the war memorial.

Beth was intrigued. “I wonder if it’s him. Wouldn’t that be fantastic, Ros?”

Rosie shuffled in her chair. “Well, apparently Jonathon has a great grandmother still living. He seems pretty sure she’ll know the name of Philip’s brother if he had one. She lives in a retirement home in a village called –
Aylesthwaite
, I think it was.”

Beth nodded. “Yes, Aylesthwaite. It’s not far from here.”

Rosie hesitated. “He’s asked me if I’d like to go and meet her.”

“Whoa, listen at you!” Beth smirked. “It’s normally mum and dad who get the first inspection. He must be keen if he’s dragging you off to meet great granny …!”

Rosie aimed a pretend swipe at her. “Will you cut it out? This is research. Just research,
okay?
”

Beth stifled a smile. “Makes a change from etchings, I guess.”

Rosie gave her a withering look. “It’s a good job you’re ill. I’d slug you if you weren’t.” Though the comment was only made in jest, she wondered for one awful moment if she’d gone too far.

Beth’s face, however, was calm and relaxed. “I’m only winding you up, Ros. You go. I can’t wait to see what you come up with. When are you going?”

Rosie’s voice softened. “Jonathon mentioned Wednesday.”

“Great. Well, we’ll wait with bated breath then, eh? Night, Ros.” She patted Rosie’s arm and went out of the room. Thankfully, Rosie never saw the look of amusement on her face as she walked along the landing.

____________

Wednesday morning came. It took less than fifteen minutes to get to the village of Aylesthwaite. As he drove, Jonathon explained that his great grandmother was ninety-one and had lived in the home for six months. “Mum asked her to come and live with us, but she wouldn’t. Said she didn’t want to be a burden to anybody.” He laughed softly to himself. “She’s a right character, Rosie. I think you’ll like her.”

“Do your parents go to Saint Edwin’s?” Rosie wondered if she’d bumped into them without realising.

“They
did
. They moved from Ridderch Standen last year, across to Northallerton for my dad’s job.” Jonathon pulled up at traffic lights and turned to her. “So you could say I was booted out at the same time. I wanted to stay over here so I had to find my own place quick. But I’ve forgiven them.”

Rosie smiled. “Do you see much of them now?”

“Oh yeah.” Jonathon set off again. “I went over for Christmas dinner and stayed till last night. They don’t get away from me that easily!”

The retirement home was a clean-looking, stone fronted building with a large sign which read:

Jonathon pulled into the car park and switched off the engine. “Well, Rosie – let’s go see how the old girl’s doing this morning. She’ll be wondering what’s up. We only visited her on Christmas day.”

Maisie Wallace was a tiny, white-haired bundle of mischief. For all her diminutive size, her voice was the sound of roasted gravel. She greeted each of them with a pronounced kiss on the cheek, holding them still as she did so by gripping their shoulders with bony, deceptively strong fingers. Rosie was quite taken aback. She’d never been kissed on first meeting before, and never with such unexpected force. This granny didn’t know her own strength. Maisie gestured them to sit down.

“So, you’re Jonny’s friend are you, m’dear?” She peered at Rosie through jam jar thick lenses. “I can’t rightly see what you look like. I ’av a bit of trouble with me eyes. That’s why they sent me in ’ere, y’know. They said I couldn’t look after meself, on account of me eyes bein’ a bit foggy. ’Onestly! I’m as safe as ’ouses. Don’t know what they’re talkin’ about, Jonny.”

Jonathon looked across at Rosie and winked. “Mum said you could come and live with us – don’t you remember, Grandma?” His voice was slightly raised, and Rosie guessed that as well as having a bit of trouble with her eyes, Maisie probably had a bit of trouble with her ears as well.

The old lady sighed theatrically. “Well, that’s just it, Jonny. Just as I was thinkin’ about takin’ her up on the offer, they went and moved, didn’t they? They can’t expect an old girl like me to up sticks and move all that way, now can they?”

Jonathon shook his head, smiling. Rosie suspected this wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. He leaned forward in his chair. “Grandma, we’ve come to ask you about something.”

Maisie frowned. “Not after me money are you, Jonny boy? I don’t ‘av a lot, y’know.”

“No, nothing like that,” he assured her patiently. “We wondered if you could tell us anything about your uncle Philip. Remember? The one who died in the Great War.”

“Ah … uncle Philip.” Maisie stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Now wait a minute while I get me thinkin’ cap on. Yes, he was me dad’s brother. A wee bit older than me dad he was. I never met him tho’. He was at war when I was born. Died when I was only two or three, I think.” She sighed again. “Terrible thing, y’know. All those young men gettin’ killed like that. My dad never went to war.” She looked over in Rosie’s direction. “He was a cripple, me dad was. Fell downstairs when he was just a littl’un. Broke both his legs – they never mended right. Handsome man he was too. My mother always said she was glad of ‘is being crippled cos it meant he couldn’t join up. Dad used to tell us that none of the recruitin’ officers would give ’im a second look.” She shook her head sadly. “That upset ’im, that did. He couldn’t understand it. A God-fearin’ man, me dad was. Just wantin’ to do ’is bit for king and country. Mum would tell us how he’d look at her many a time and say – ‘Polly, I can’t see why they won’t ’av
me
cos o’ me legs, when half the fellas they take come back wi’ no legs anyway.’ Aye, that’s what he used to say, bless ’im.”

Rosie had to suppress a smile. The old lady’s face was entirely serious.

Jonathon broke in. “Do you know which regiment Philip served in?”

Maisie shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t, Jonny. All I know is, he died about 1917.

At Ypres if I’m not mistaken.”

Rosie’s ears pricked up.
Ypres
… wasn’t that where they were now in the diary?

Jonathon shot her a glance. She sensed a slight nervousness in his eyes, as though he was afraid to ask his next question. This one would determine the truth.

“Grandma, did your dad have any
other
brothers who served in the conflict?”

As she looked across at Jonathon’s wistful expression, Rosie became conscious of her own heart beating harder. Suddenly, she desperately wanted Philip to be Boxer.

Maisie screwed up her face for a few seconds, with the look of one dredging through the hinterlands of memory. Then she relaxed as though all had become clear. “There
was
another lad as I think about it. He was the oldest of the lot of ’em, I believe. Yes. Yes, I remember now. He survived the war – became a vicar, y’know.”

Rosie and Jonathon exchanged glances.

The old lady continued. “I
do
remember ’im as I come to think about it. He lived quite a distance away from us, but I
did
meet ’im several times. When the Second World War broke out, he went overseas as an army chaplain. Somethin’ he’d done in the First War, I seem to think.”

Jonathon shot Rosie another look. “What was his name, Grandma? Can you remember his name?” He was talking fast now.

Maisie straightened in her chair, a slight look of indignation on her face. “
Course
I remember ’is name. Do you take me for a silly old duffer, Jonny?” She gave a triumphant smile. “He was called uncle Nat. Well, that’s what
I
called ’im anyway. It was years before I could get me tongue round Nathanael.”

“Wow, Rosie, would you believe that? What are the chances, eh?” Jonathon shook his head in disbelief as he started the ignition. “I mean, you couldn’t make it up, could you?”

Rosie felt pleased. She could hardly wait to get back and tell Beth. It would be like a second Christmas present.

“Well, I guess this needs some further looking into.” Jonathon was mumbling thoughtfully as they rolled out of the car park. “There must be ways of finding out more about him. I’ll give Lauren a ring. She’ll know where to look.”