Come Home Soon (4 page)

“Whose notes are you looking for?” she asked.

“Mrs Jackson's.”

“Is that the lady with the baby?”

He nodded.

“Well, she's not from Endstone, so she won't be in that drawer. Father has the files subdivided into some of the bigger villages, like Fleeting and Haverstock, and then this drawer at the bottom is for people who live in the houses outside of town or on farms.”

“Ah!” Thomas's face lit up. “She mentioned a farm. Said her husband would be fed up she'd not been there helping him.”

Ellie gave a small smile. “There you go, then.” She opened the bottom drawer and located the file.

“That's wonderful, Ellie, thank you so much! I should be able to find these other two now.”

“You're welcome,” Ellie beamed. “Would you . . . would you like me to file those notes away so that you can actually get to your desk?” she asked shyly.

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“You are an absolute marvel!” They smiled at each other.

Ellie swiftly tidied away the papers from the desk and in a few minutes the place was looking much more organized, and Thomas considerably calmer.

Glancing at the clock, she remembered how late she was. Her mother would be furious. Reluctantly, she began to move towards the door, before remembering something.

“Oh, Dr Pritchard. . . ?”

“Please, Ellie, call me Thomas.”

“All right . . . Thomas. Just one more thing. Miss Webb. . . She. . . Well, let's just say, she might be one of your most regular visitors.”

“Ah, a bit of a hypochondriac, is she?”

Ellie recognized the word her father had used about the old lady. “Yes, she tends to have . . . or at least
think
she has, everything going. Most of the time she just wants someone to talk to. I believe Father usually finds a ten-minute chat and a prescription of some bedrest do the trick.”

“That's a very helpful tip, Ellie! I'm most grateful. In fact, I really can't thank you enough. Please do call back whenever you like!”

“I will,” Ellie assured him.

As Ellie cycled back towards home, she felt happier than she had in weeks. A broad smile spread across her face and she hummed loudly to herself.

As she approached the turn-off for her house, she saw Jack with a crowd of his friends and her smile grew even wider.

The other boys peeled off as she approached and Jack waved them away with a call of, “See you tomorrow, lads.”

“Well, hello, miss,” he said, turning to her with a polite expression and a stagey, upper-class accent. “My name's Jack Scott. I don't believe we've met before.”

“Oh, here we go.” Ellie giggled as she slowed her bicycle to a stop.

“No, I'm sure I'd recognize you . . . Wait! You do look a bit like my old friend, Ellie. But I haven't seen her in a while. She turned into a boring little housewife and forgot all about her old mate Jack.”

“Stop it!” Ellie protested. “Any time you want to come round, you're more than welcome!”

“Says you! I'm not sure your mam agrees.”

“Hmm. Anyway, I'm not boring and I'm not a housewife. I've just saved poor Dr Pritchard's bacon!”

She told him about the scene she had found at her father's surgery. She called it a daring rescue and Jack laughed.

“Humph. Well, young Eleanor, you may be quite, quite wild, but at least you have made it possible for Miss Webb to get home and be murdered by the Germans in the comfort of her own bed, rather than in your father's surgery!”

“Jack!” Ellie squealed with laughter. “How do you do that? You sound exactly like her!”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing again. “Anyway,” he said, slinging an arm roughly around her shoulders, “you did a good job, whether or not the Germans carry Miss Webb off in the end. Your dad'll be very proud when he hears.”

Ellie smiled happily at him, contentment spreading through her like a hot cup of tea warming every inch of her.

Seven

Saying goodbye to Jack at the garden gate, Ellie felt her spirits dampen once more. By now she was desperately late.

Leaning her bicycle against the wall, she prepared her defence. Her father had told them to help Thomas. Perhaps she should tell a small white lie and say that someone at school had mentioned that the young doctor was struggling. But Mother already had a low opinion of him; she didn't want to risk making things worse for him. . .

“Is that you, Eleanor?”

Ellie dropped her school bag at the foot of the stairs. “Yes, Mother, it's me. I'm sorry I'm late—”

“Come in here to speak to me, Ellie. Don't bellow from the hallway.”

Ellie?
Her mother rarely called her by anything other than her full name. As she walked into the kitchen she suddenly became aware of the delicious smell of cooking fish.

Her mother turned round from the oven, an apron tied about her waist. Ellie stared. It was a sight she hadn't seen in months. What had happened?

“Well, now, there you are. Come along, come along, supper is ready. You'd better wash your hands.”

Charlie was already seated at the kitchen table, humming quietly to himself, his sandy hair neatly combed.

“Yes, Mother.” Ellie moved to the sink as though she were sleepwalking.

“Goodness me, what's the matter with you? Are you unwell?” Her mother marched over briskly and laid a cool hand against Ellie's forehead. Ellie's eyes widened further.

“No, I'm quite well, Mother.”

“Well, then, hurry up and get to the table while this fish is still warm.”

As the three of them sat at the table together, Charlie chasing his boiled potatoes around his plate with his fingers, Ellie watched her mother curiously. She had barely been out of bed for weeks but here she was, having cooked a proper supper, looking rested and
calm
.

Feeling her daughter's gaze upon her, Josephine swallowed a dainty mouthful, patted her mouth delicately with her napkin and raised her eyebrows. “What is it, Ellie?”

“Nothing, Mother. This is very nice, thank you.”

Josephine gave a small nod.

“How was your day?” Ellie ventured.

“It was fine, thank you.” Her mother paused, cutting a small chunk of fish into even smaller pieces. “We've had a letter from Father.”

Ellie's inhalation was so sharp it carried a morsel of fish with it, which caught in her throat, causing her to splutter in a way that made her mother frown. When she was able to speak again, she gasped, “What does he say? Is he well? May I read it?”

“His regiment has arrived safely in France. He is quite well.” Her mother gave a small smile.

“What else does he say?” Ellie's cutlery lay abandoned, a pea rolling slowly away from her fork.

“You may read it for yourself,
after
supper.”

“But, Mother—”

“No buts, Eleanor, you know the rules.” Josephine's tone had a familiar steely edge to it.

“Yes, Mother.”

Ellie ate the rest of her supper as quickly as she could, despite being told twice not to bolt her food. She could feel the fish and potatoes sitting uncomfortably in her upper stomach. She smiled at her mother.

“Please may I be excused?”

Josephine sighed. “All right, then. But you will clear away the supper things once you've finished. I'll bathe Charlie.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Mother.”

Ellie seized the envelope and ran up the stairs to her bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she curled up on her bed, wrapping her body around the letter as though it were a newborn kitten and she its mother.

For the second time that day, the sight of her father's familiar sloping hand brought a lump to her throat that had nothing to do with the poorly chewed supper. She held the envelope to her nose, but there was no trace of her father's smell. She tried to imagine its journey to her as she looked at the strange French stamp.

At last, she opened the envelope and drew out the letter.

1st September 1914

Dearest Josephine, Ellie and Charlie,

Well, we have arrived at last in France after completing our training in Aldershot. The weather here is even lovelier than it was at home this summer, but for me there is nothing in the world so beautiful as the English seaside. Has the weather continued to be fine? The farmers and fishermen had such a marvellous summer!

The journey to France was an adventure in itself. We travelled to Portsmouth by train and from there by boat to France. Some of the Cockney boys didn't know what to do with themselves, having never travelled by boat before. I spent a great deal of the journey ministering to seasick soldiers!

Once we arrived in France, we were put on trucks. Then it was a long march through the cornfields, with French farmers watching us curiously as we passed.

I have been billeted with a splendid group of chaps – we are friends already – and the mood is good. Young Will Scott was sent elsewhere, but I trust he has found himself with equally good men. Perhaps Jack might have heard more – assuming he didn't stow away with a regiment himself!

How are you all? I think of you constantly and miss you dreadfully. I expect Ellie will be back at school by the time you receive this – I hope you're working hard, old girl.

How is Thomas coping? And all my patients? Don't forget to call in when you can and see if Thomas is managing all right. I'm sure he'd appreciate the support.

I'll write again as soon as I can. Until then you'll be in my thoughts and prayers, as always.

All my love,

Wesley (Daddy)

As she read, Ellie felt warmth seeping into her bones as though she were sitting in a hot bath after a chilly winter walk. She wished he had given more detail of where he was, and what his days consisted of, but she'd overheard a girl from school talking about a letter from her own father that had been similarly short on details.

“They're not allowed to write about where they are, you see,” she'd said, “in case the letter falls into enemy hands and gives away valuable information.”

Ellie dearly wanted to picture where her father was and what he was doing. Still, for those precious moments she felt almost as though he were here in the room with her. Smiling happily and burrowing deeper into her pillow, she prepared to read the letter again from the start.

Eight

Ellie finished the last of the washing up and heaved a sigh. She felt exhausted. After church, she had made Sunday lunch on her own while her mother went to lie down. Charlie had a cold and had been snuffly and crotchety, tugging at her legs and whining for attention while she was trying to cook.

It was a few weeks since they had received the letter from her father and Ellie had felt herself missing him more than ever, and worrying more with every day that passed at the lack of further news. Perhaps her mother was feeling the same, for she had withdrawn back into herself, becoming cold and irritable. She had been giving Ellie an ever-greater number of chores, and these, on top of school and calling into the surgery whenever she could, had left Ellie feeling wrung out like the dish rag she now draped over the stove to dry.

Lifting the kettle from the stove, she poured boiling water into a pot, and waited for the tealeaves to steep. She put the pot on to a tray with a cup and saucer, a small jug of milk and a spoon. Then she carried the tray into the living room, where her mother was sitting in her rocking chair, turning the pages of her Bible without seeming to see them.

“What's this?” she asked as Ellie laid the tray on the small table beside her.

“I thought you might like some tea.”

“It's not tea time.”

“No, but you were feeling cold earlier. A cup of tea might warm you up.”

“Yes . . . well . . . thank you.”

“Mother. . .”

“Yes,” her mother replied, narrowing her eyes.

“I heard someone mention blackberries at church this morning. It's just the right time of year for them and I thought if I picked enough we could have jam.”

“It's Sunday, Eleanor. You're not supposed to be scampering about the countryside.”

“I know, Mother, but I promise I won't . . . scamper. And Charlie is asleep so he won't bother you. . .”

“Hmm. . .”

“Please, Mother? Charlie loves jam. It would be such a nice treat for him.”

“Well, all right. But you must be home by tea time.”

“Yes, Mother. I will!”

Ellie darted from the room before her mother could change her mind. She grabbed a basket and threw an old cardigan on top of her dress.

Jack was waiting at the end of the lane, his usual broad grin on his face. Ellie felt her mood lighten at once. They had managed a whispered conversation after church, and Ellie had promised to see if she could escape for the afternoon. She had only half-expected her mother to agree.

It was a crisp, sunny day, with the first autumn colours showing in the trees and hedgerows. When they reached the corner of the square, Jack tugged the green ribbon from Ellie's hair and ran off with it, making her chase him across the square, down the path and all the way to where the woods began. They were both panting and laughing as he handed it back.

“Good to see you with colour in your cheeks for a change.” He grinned, giving her a playful shove.

“It's good to be
out
!” Ellie cried, her voice startling a couple of woodpigeons from the trees nearby. She spun around giddily, kicking up piles of fallen leaves as she went.

“You're mad, you are!”

Ellie shoved him back and they tussled their way through the trees, eventually stopping at a sunny clearing, where they slumped with their backs against the same pine.

“Any word from your dad?” Jack asked.

“No,” Ellie said, her heart contracting. “Have you heard anything from Will?”

“Last letter was about a week ago. He never gives any details either. I'm sure he's doing it on purpose,” Jack grumbled.

“He is! And you know the reason why. It's not to spite you!”

“I suppose not. It just seems so unfair that he's there and I'm not.”

Ellie frowned. She had thought that with a bit of time, not being old enough to join the army would cease to bother Jack. But if anything, he was becoming steadily more obsessed.

“You know, you might be glad in the end that you didn't go!”

Jack snorted. “I doubt it!”

“Well, maybe you don't know as much about it as you think. I heard Miss Smith and Mr Thompson talking at school. The Germans were well-prepared and the war is not going as we all thought it would. They think it might drag on until after Christmas now.”

“Well, that's not so bad. More fun for them!”

Jack was still grinning but Ellie could feel her temper rising. “Fun! It's not fun, Jack! It's men shooting at each other. Killing each other! Have you not even heard about that battle by some river or other in France?”

“Yes, I have, as a matter of fact.” Spots of red appeared in Jack's cheeks. “Marne, it's called. And it was a victory for the allies!”

“But at what cost? Mr Thompson said thousands of men were killed. Killed! Not to mention those who were injured.”

“That's what happens to soldiers, Ellie. That's why what they're doing is so important!”

“Jack, stop it!” Ellie could hear her voice becoming as shrill as her mother's. “It's not just some game! Our fathers and brothers might come back with horrible injuries, or not come back at all. What purpose does that serve?”

She was on her feet now, standing over him, her hands clenched into fists. If she had thought she could beat him into understanding her, she would gladly have done so.

“Ellie. . .” Jack began, his hands raised pacifyingly.

“No, you listen to me for a change!” Ellie shrieked. Her stomach was churning, but some part of her was glad to be able to shout and stamp. “No one
ever
listens to me!”

He was listening to her now, his forehead knotted in concern.

“You're just like little George, banging away on your tambourine, thinking it's all such good fun. It's easy for you to say, your father isn't out there, risking his life, is he? If war is so very noble, why is he still in The Dog and Duck every night, far from danger?”

Jack winced as though she had hit him in the gut. Ellie felt a corresponding pain in her own chest, but she couldn't have stopped now, even if she had wanted to. “It's not as if he has stayed at home to look after his family. Everyone knows he's a terrible father. It's you and your mother bringing in the money. And now Anna. . . ” Ellie scowled. She considered it a dreadful shame that bright Anna Scott had to drop out of school. “We all know everything your father earns he drinks away. . .”

“That's enough, Ellie,” Jack said quietly, staggering to his feet.

Ellie paused for a moment, breathing heavily. In the silence her words seemed to echo over and over again in her ears. She swung round and ran from the forest, before Jack could see her cry.

She ran all the way home, stumbling and landing on her ankle more than once, her eyes blurry with tears.

As she approached her front door, she roughly wiped her face with her handkerchief. But it wasn't enough, not by a long way.

“What on earth have you been doing, Eleanor?” her mother exclaimed as she walked in.

“I
told
you, blackberrying.”

“Don't you dare take that tone with me! Look at the state of you! You're filthy! Your hair is full of brambles and your shoes are all scuffed! You're a disgrace.”

Ellie gritted her teeth but didn't reply.

“And where are these famous blackberries I was promised?”

Ellie looked around as though the basket might appear, but of course, she'd left it in the woods. It had scarcely had any berries in anyway.

“Nothing to say for yourself? I tell you, Eleanor, I've had quite enough of this behaviour. I scarcely need it on top of everything else I'm trying to cope with. You were with that boy, I presume?”

Ellie didn't answer. She didn't want to think about Jack.

“I thought so and I will not permit it. You are no longer children. It is unseemly. You can wash the windows and floors as punishment, and I suggest you keep out of my sight for the rest of the day if you don't want to make your situation worse.”

Ellie turned to the door, feeling her anger draining away into a deep, tired sadness.

Father,
she begged in her head.
Please come home!

Please let us know you're all right.