The Hills and the Valley (46 page)

‘It does,' Barbara agreed. ‘It's all so leisurely! I'm not used to having nothing to do.'

‘Oh dear – bad as that?'

‘Yes. The days really drag. Most new wives have a house to look after, but I haven't got that. The Spindlers have managed to keep some of their staff in spite of the war – the ones too old to do anything else – and they get really offended if I so much as lift a finger. It's really deathly.'

Margaret lifted the pastry lid and fitted it onto the pie dish, covering a mound of blackberry and apple slices. She led such a busy life herself she found it almost impossible to imagine the arid days Barbara described, but there was no mistaking her niece's distress.

‘It would be much better if you had something to do,' she said.

‘I know. I want to work – after all I'm fully trained in business studies. I can do book-keeping. I know all about commerce and economics. I'm sure I could be a help to Marcus but he won't hear of it.'

‘What about war work? There must be something you could do to help the war effort. Surely no one could object to that?'

‘I had to give up my fire watching because for one thing we're too far out for me to be of any earthly use and for another it would interfere with the Spindlers'dinner.' Barbara's voice held a note of bitterness. ‘I
have
knitted some socks for the sailors, though. Six pairs, all in waxed wool. See – my fingers are quite sore!'

‘Good for you.'

‘I'm not sure. They'll probably need two left feet to wear them.' She grew serious again. ‘Honestly, I don't know what to do. I could join the WVS, I suppose, but they are all so much older than me. I just long for company of my own age. But going to school in Bath I never really made any friends out here in Hillsbridge – and the ones I do still hear from have all joined the forces now.'

‘Poor old Barbara!' Margaret said. ‘We'll have to think. There must be something you could do.'

A thought occurred to Barbara. ‘You won't tell Mum, will you, that I'm feeling a bit blue?'

‘Of course not, if you don't want me to. Now, I'm going to get this in the oven. Are you going in to see your Uncle?'

‘Yes, all right,' Barbara said.

She went through into the front room where Harry was sitting at the table surrounded by papers. He looked up as she tapped at the door and opened it.

‘Hello, Babs! I thought I heard voices.'

‘Yes, I thought I'd call in and say hello.' She went into the room and closed the door after her. ‘Actually, since you're so busy I'll come straight to the point. It was you I came to see.'

‘Me?' He sat back, smiling at her. ‘I am honoured!'

‘I don't know if you'll think so when you hear what it's about,' Barbara admitted. ‘Boring old council business.'

‘Since when have you been interested in the council?'

‘I'm not really, but Marcus is. He's terribly worried about this swimming bath thing. You know what I'm talking about? The council lease it from Spindler estates and now they want to give it up.'

‘There's no point wasting ratepayers money to keep it on,' Harry said. ‘We have had a report done and the pollution from the churchyard means it's not safe for people to bathe in it.'

‘Yes.' Barbara bit her lip. ‘I know that's what they say. But Marcus's father is very angry about it.'

‘He would be,' Harry said drily. ‘If there's one saying your father-in-law believes in it's the one about looking after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves. The rent we pay is just a flea bite to him, but I don't suppose he sees it that way.'

‘He doesn't. He's blaming Marcus for not tying things up. That's why I wondered if you could help.'

‘Me? How?'

‘Well …' Suddenly it seemed a tremendous imposition but she stumbled on anyway. ‘I thought maybe you could persuade the council to keep on the lease for another year at least …'

‘Oh, Barbara!' Harry pushed the sleeves of his pullover up above the cuffs and his shirt. ‘I can't do that.'

‘But they take a great deal of notice of you. After all …'

‘I was elected to represent the interests of the ratepayers of Hillsbridge, not Sir Richard Spindler,' Harry said firmly.

‘Couldn't you just …?'

He shook his head. ‘Not even for you, my love. With the pollution as it is that bit of river is no earthly use as a swimming bath. It should have been closed down years ago. It's only a mercy no one has got septicaemia yet from swimming in it. I'm afraid if Sir Richard wants his money for the next two years he is going to have to take us to court to get it.'

Barbara nodded. She knew when she was beaten.

‘I'm sorry. I suppose I shouldn't have asked.'

‘Forget it. Just as long as you understand there is nothing I can do.'

‘Of course.' She leaned across and dropped a kiss on his forehead. ‘Sorry, Uncle.'

Her feelings were mixed as she walked home. She had failed to help Marcus but talking to her aunt and uncle had made her feel better all the same. In their house she had been her old self for a little while, remembered how she had used to be before the events of the last year had altered her – before Marcus, before Huw. She hadn't sat back and let things happen to her then. She had been a rebel, ready to take risks and battle for what she wanted. She remembered the scrapes she had been in, the way she had managed to get her own way even against the Sisters at school and how she had altered her birth certificate in an effort to join the WAAF. Could that Barbara really have disappeared? Surely not. If she wanted her life to change then she was the only one who could change it. She simply was not prepared to be a victim of circumstance any longer.

Hillsbridge House was as quiet as she had left it, her note unread on the table. Marcus and his father were not home yet, she assumed. Perhaps they had stayed to have tea with one of the masters in his room. And of Lady Erica there was no sign either. Barbara crossed to the big open fireplace, warming her hands. No shortage of coal at Hillsbridge House. The thought amused her. There wouldn't be, would there, since Sir Richard owned most of the pits in the valley which produced it!

The
Mercury
, published the previous day, lay on the table. Idly, Barbara picked it up, turning the pages. A few weddings, mostly with the brides wearing sensible coats and hats, a small spray of flowers their only concession to tradition. Poor things, I wonder if they know what they are letting themselves in for? Barbara thought. An account of an inquest into yet another death in the blackout. Some war news and a photograph of a local lad, missing in a merchant ship. Barbara thought of Huw and quickly pushed the thought away. She had enough on her mind without adding to the load.

She turned the page and saw the story: ‘Appeal for Nurses'. She stopped to read it and felt a quiver of excitement.

She had been wondering what she could do – now right here in front of her eyes was the answer! It was something that had never occurred to her before, now she wondered why ever not. She had no experience, of course, but the advert said that all that was needed was a pair of hands and a willing disposition. It would be menial work, no doubt, emptying bedpans and sweeping wards, but it would be work and she would be doing her bit for the war effort. After the frustration of the past weeks it was an exhilarating thought.

Marcus and his father came home while she was dressing for dinner.

‘Good match?' she asked. The new positive mood spilled over into her voice but Marcus seemed not to notice.

‘I suppose so.' He stripped off his shirt, shivering a little. It was not very warm in the bedroom. ‘Pater is still going on about this damned swimming bath business.'

‘You might just as well tell him there's nothing you can do,' she said. ‘Your only recourse would be to take the council to court and it's simply not worth it. Besides it's immoral to try and squeeze money out of the ratepayers for a swimming bath that no one can swim in.'

He looked at her in surprise. ‘What do you know about it?'

‘I went to see Uncle Harry this afternoon. I mentioned it to him.'

She knew at once she had said the wrong thing for his face darkened.

‘You haven't been interfering, have you?'

‘Of course not. I just thought I'd ask him about it.'

‘You have been interfering!' He swung around from the wardrobe, a clean shirt on its hanger swinging in his hand. ‘Why can't you mind your own business?'

‘I'm sorry,' she said shortly. ‘I'm getting a bit fed up with playing the dutiful little wife. There's something else I might as well tell you while I'm about it. I want to volunteer as a nurse.'

‘You
what
?'

‘They're desperate for extra nurses – auxiliaries as well as trained people. It's something I could do instead of sitting around here all day. I'm going to see them on Monday and volunteer.'

‘Where would you go?'

‘Bath. I don't know which hospital. Part of the Royal United Hospital has been turned over to the military and there are a lot of new buildings at St Martins to deal with air raid casualties and so on. I presume I'd be sent where I'm most needed.‘

‘No,' he said flatly. ‘No wife of mine is going to look after other men. There are plenty of girls who can do that without you …'

‘But it's up to everyone to do their bit. I don't want to quarrel but I don't want to be kept here like a bird in a gilded cage. I'm bored out of my mind and I want to do something useful.'

‘Mother and Father would never stand for it.'

‘They can't stop me and neither can you. My mind is made up.' If it hadn't been before it was now, she thought.

His face contorted. ‘You will do as you are told.'

She turned away. There was no point in arguing. He was simply working himself up to one of his rages. But she was determined that on Monday morning she would get on a bus and go to Bath.

She was at the wardrobe selecting a dress when he grabbed her from behind. ‘I know what you want. You want a man.' He spun her round. His face had the dark shut-in look she had learned to fear. He caught at her blouse, ripping it off her shoulders.

Suddenly Barbara was more angry than afraid. She lashed out with her hand. Her fingers caught his cheek a stinging blow. He recoiled, then grabbed her, and hauled her struggling and fighting to the bed.

‘Stop it!' she screamed, but his hand was over her mouth, stifling her cry. He was too strong for her. Despite her struggles he took her with the same manic strength she had come to know. Afterwards, as he rolled away, she struggled to her feet. Her mouth was bleeding and his finger marks had made angry weals on her breasts.

‘That's it!' she said. Her voice was low and trembling, yet surprisingly firm. ‘I won't be treated this way. I'm leaving you, Marcus.'

In a second he was on his feet. The monster had gone. In his place was the frightened, war-shocked young man. It was as if Marcus was three separate people, she thought. No doubt this afternoon he had been his third self – the charming sports-mad hero – to everyone he had met at his old school.

‘No!' he begged her. ‘Barbara – I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I don't know what comes over me. But it won't happen again I promise.'

‘I've heard that before.'

‘I mean it. I couldn't bear it if you left me. I don't know what I'd do.'

‘You'd survive.'

‘I wouldn't. I'd kill myself, Barbara. God knows, I've thought about it. Before I met you I almost did. I've got a gun. I've still got my service revolver. I made up my mind to use it. But I couldn't even do that. And then I met you and you made everything seem different. I thought I was going to be all right. And I will be. I will be. Only don't leave me, Barbara – please don't leave me!'

She was amazed at the emotions flooding through her then. Her anger had died at the sight of his face. Now she felt only pity, fear that he might actually mean what he threatened, and, strangely, love. Never before had she felt that she actually held someone's life in her hands. Never before had the feeling of responsibility and of being needed been so strong. It frightened yet exhilarated her. Maybe she could still help him. Maybe she could help to restore his shattered nerves, help him rebuild his confidence in himself so that he could once more become what he had been. It was a challenge and God alone knew it would not be easy. But if she could do it the rewards would be well worth the effort. Marcus the golden boy living up to his image once more. And only she would know the truth about the toll his heroism had taken on him.

Once again she remembered the horror of what he had been through and reminded herself that these traumas and inadequacies were as much a legacy of the war as his damaged leg. That was a wound for all the world to see – and an acceptable one. His mental state was something to be hidden, something only she knew about. Heroes were not supposed to be mentally or emotionally deranged. They should be above that. If she left him it might prove the final straw. Her departure would signal the final failure and it might push him over the brink. Whereas if she stayed, perhaps she could help him to become whole once more and in so doing become a more complete person herself.

The words of the marriage service came back to her. ‘For better, for worse … in sickness and in health.' That was what she had promised. Usually, one would expect the better to come before the worse, the health before the sickness, building strength for what might follow. Not in her case. She had been plunged straight into a nether-world she had scarcely dreamed existed. But she would fight out of it and she would take him with her. In that moment Barbara silently renewed her marriage vows and the words had fresh meaning for her.