The Penny Bangle (16 page)

The pub was quiet and almost empty, apart from three or four old men who were sitting playing dominoes. They all looked up and smiled and nodded, then looked away again.

Robert went to the bar and bought some drinks – a glass of blameless lemonade for Cassie, and a pint of beer for him. Cassie found she didn’t want to talk. All she wanted was to sit with Robert, holding hands with him. It seemed this was all he wanted, too.

I’ll remember being here, she thought, how I felt so contented in this little pub, how we sat feeling comfortable together, how we didn’t have to chatter on, because there was no need. We understood each other perfectly.

‘Be careful, Rob,’ she said, as they walked back to Cassie’s barracks in the moonlight. ‘Stay safe, and come back home to me.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ Robert had his arm around her shoulders, and now he pulled her close. ‘I’m always very careful, actually.’

‘You go on being very careful, then.’

‘Cass, I’m coming back to you, I promise.’ Robert kissed her lightly, then more deeply, and she clung to him, unwilling to let him walk into the night, but knowing he had to go.

She watched him walk off down the road again and thought her heart would break.

There was a yawning gap before she heard from him again, and Cassie had to fight down her despair, to keep the faith. Then two letters came at once – but these were very short, a bit of hasty scribble which she could hardly read.

She did her best to keep her vow of saintliness, but this was very difficult, especially when the bitch Lavinia and her stuck-up friends kept on making horrible remarks about certain people who got drunk in nightclubs of which they were not members.

But Cassie’s virtue was eventually rewarded, and letters started coming all the time. They smelled of dust and spices, said he missed her, and couldn’t wait for them to meet again.

Then, in September, Cassie heard from Stephen.

When she first saw the writing on the envelope, and realised it had been posted on the UK mainland, she felt it was the birthday of her life and all her Christmases in one.

But it was not from Robert, after all. The handwriting was similar, but it was not the same.

‘A missive from the other twin,’
wrote Stephen, as if he had divined her disappointment.
‘We’re planning a little party, Fran and I. We wondered if you’d like to come along. Dad’s not very well, but it’s their wedding anniversary soon, and Mum’s afraid that it might be their last. We’ve both got a few days’ leave, and so we’re going to Dorset.’

Cassie was surprised, then touched – and also sad, for Mrs Denham’s sake. Poor Mr Denham, he’d never looked particularly well. But she hadn’t thought he might be dying.

She asked for three days’ leave, and got it.

Stephen and Frances met her off the train, and Stephen took her kitbag.

‘Oh, Stephen, Fran – it’s great to see you!’ Cassie cried, and realised she meant it. ‘Gosh, I’ve missed you!’

‘It’s great to see you, too,’ said Frances, grinning. ‘My goodness, midget, you look very smart! You’ve had your hair done, haven’t you, and what about that lipstick?’

‘I’m trying to be a credit to my service,’ Cassie told Frances primly, smoothing her lapels, then picking up a cardboard box with holes punched in the sides. ‘Steve, how are your parents?’

‘Dad’s going downhill fast. It’s his lungs, the doctor says, it seems they’re packing up. They think he’s got a month or two at most.’ Stephen shrugged dejectedly. ‘I don’t know how Mum’s going to cope alone.’

‘On the farm, you mean?’ Cassie touched his sleeve in sympathy. ‘Steve, you don’t need to worry. She’s always seemed quite capable to me.’

‘I mean, inside herself.’ Stephen slung Cassie’s kitbag on his shoulder. ‘They haven’t spent a night apart for almost twenty years, except for when Dad was in hospital, and that was back in 1930-something.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said Cassie, wishing she could unsay what she’d just said, which now seemed insensitive and mean.

‘But we’re going to make these few days special,’ added Stephen. ‘We’ll have a party we can all remember.’

‘Cass, what’s in that box?’ demanded Frances.

‘It’s just a little present for Mrs Denham,’ Cassie said mysteriously.

Mrs Denham had really pushed the boat out, Cassie thought.

Every piece of furniture in the cottage had been polished, the range had been black-leaded, and she must have stockpiled food for months, to make a spread like this.

She’d even got dressed up and had her hair done, and Cassie saw how beautiful Rose Denham must have been when she was young – how beautiful she was today, in fact. She could understand how Mr Denham must have fallen for her all those years ago.

‘Hello, Cassie,’ said Mrs Denham brightly, welcoming her former land girl with a generous hug. ‘Goodness, Alex, look! She’s got a stripe already. You must be doing well!’

‘She’s driving senior army officers all around the country,’ Stephen told his mother. ‘She brought my colonel back from Halifax last week. They all ask for Cassie, actually.’

‘No, they don’t,’ said Cassie, blushing scarlet.

‘Well, they should,’ said Frances.

‘I brought you this,’ said Cassie, still blushing and handing Rose the cardboard box. ‘I thought he would be company for you.’

‘Oh, Alex, Stephen, look!’ Mrs Denham opened up the box to find a sleepy puppy lying on a bed of straw. ‘Oh, aren’t you beautiful!’

Cassie smiled, relieved.

The chocolate Labrador looked up at Rose Denham, sniffed the strange new human smell, but then he wagged his tail. She stroked him with a gentle hand, and then she picked him up.

He snuggled up against her, licked her face and whickered.

‘I expect you’re hungry,’ said Mrs Denham kindly. ‘Come along inside, let’s find you something nice to eat.’

Cassie saw she’d brought the perfect gift.

‘I didn’t know if I should get your mum a dog,’ said Cassie, after the party which had been attended by almost the whole village. The weather had been kind, and so they’d taken tables, chairs and trestles out into the stable yard, and organised some games with little prizes for the village children.

Everybody had enjoyed themselves, eating, drinking, having fun, and for just one afternoon the war had been forgotten.

Daisy and Ewan had to leave to go straight back to London because they were both on stage that night. Frances took her parents home, and Mrs Denham helped her weary husband up to bed. Cassie and Stephen helped a couple of women from the village wash the dishes and clear the last few bits of mess away.

‘I mean,’ continued Cassie, ‘she’ll have to feed him, exercise him, train him, as well as all the stuff around the farm she has to do. But I think he’s a lovely little thing.’

‘Where did you get him?’ Stephen asked.

‘One of the driver’s mothers is a breeder of chocolate Labradors. She said he’s a pedigree.’ Cassie shrugged. ‘Of course,
I
wouldn’t know! Steve, he was so quiet and good while we were on the train. He didn’t whine or bark.’

‘Mum had a chocolate Labrador when she was a girl at Charton Minster,’ Stephen said. ‘She’s thrilled to have a puppy, I can see, and I wish I had thought of it. She’s going to call him Tinker.’

‘If that’s all then, Mr Denham?’ said one of the village women.

‘Thank you, Mrs Lyle and Mrs Croft.’ Stephen smiled his gratitude. ‘Make sure you take some cakes home for your children?’

As the village women left, Stephen swept up the last few crumbs and then leaned on his broom. ‘Cass, you won’t hurt him, will you?’

‘Rob, you mean? Of course I won’t.’ Cassie looked at Stephen. ‘What do you take me for, some kind of trollop? Out of sight and out of mind – is that what you’re saying?’

‘Now, Cass, don’t get annoyed.’ Stephen shrugged and looked apologetic. ‘It’s just that Rob takes everything so seriously, and when he gets upset – well, you know what he was like when you first came to Melbury. When he was worried the army wouldn’t have him back.’

‘Yes, I remember,’ Cassie said. ‘But I didn’t chase after him, you know. When I first began to think Rob liked me, I didn’t want him to know I liked him back. I mean, I’m not exactly the sort of girl your mum must want for Robert.’

‘Mum’s not that kind of person, Cass,’ said Stephen. ‘You know her well enough to know she’s not a snob.’

‘No, but she – well, anyway. I won’t hurt your brother, Steve. I promise, hand on heart. When Rob comes back, it will be the best day of my life.’ Cassie smiled at Stephen. ‘It’s been so lovely to see you and Frances.’

‘Yes, dear Frances.’ Stephen pulled a face. ‘Salt of the earth, is Frances. A pity there aren’t more like Frances, eh?’

The following day, the three of them walked along the lane to Charton, Frances and Stephen striding on ahead, Cassie dawdling, pulling at grass stalks, eating blackberries, and enjoying autumn in the countryside, something she’d not experienced before.

They passed the ancient Minster, glowing golden in the sun.

‘It’s empty now,’ said Stephen.

‘I thought it was a school for boys?’ said Cassie, who had just caught up.

‘It was, but rain was getting in, the owner wouldn’t repair it, so the boys have gone elsewhere.’

Cassie looked up at the roof. She saw some of the weathered grey stone tiles were cracked or missing, and a chimney stack was leaning at an awkward angle.

‘It looks like the enchanted castle out of
Sleeping Beauty
,’ whispered Frances.

‘It looks more like the ogre’s lair to me,’ said Stephen, grimacing.

‘Steve, have you ever been inside?’ asked Cassie.

‘No, but Daisy often used to say she wished we were locked up there with all the other hooligans.’ Stephen grinned, remembering. ‘Poor Daze, as kids we used to drive her mad.’

‘What’s Daisy going to do?’ asked Frances. ‘Cass was telling me she’d like to buy the place and give it to your mother.’

‘You never know with Daze, but now the place is empty, she says she’s going to make the bloke an offer, although she’s almost sure he’ll turn it down.’ Stephen shook his head. ‘There was some village gossip once, along the lines this chap was Daisy’s father – that he seduced her mother when he was in London, during the last war. Then he smarmed up to Mum’s old man, and somehow got his hands on Charton Minster, so he must be a nasty piece of work.’

‘Have you ever met him?’

‘No,’ said Stephen, ‘and he had a stroke a few months back, so he doesn’t go out any more.’

‘Why won’t he sell the Minster?’ Frances asked. ‘It can’t be any use to him.’

‘Maybe he likes upsetting Daze and Mum.’

As they were walking back to Melbury, Stephen fell into step by Cassie, leaving Frances to go on ahead. She wished he wouldn’t walk so close, almost pushing her into the hedge, but she didn’t want to make an issue of it, or shove him away.

As they climbed a stile, Cassie stumbled.

Stephen caught her hand, and then he held it longer than he needed, and she could feel his gaze upon her face.

‘Stephen,’ she said gently, as she tried to pull her hand away.

‘I know, Cass,’ he said, and sighed, ‘wrong twin.’

Chapter Nine

January 1943

Robert lay on his stomach among some thorny bushes, scanning the Tunisian hills and wadis through his field binoculars.

A German unit was supposed to be dug in on the hillside opposite. But, stare as he might, he couldn’t make it out. Fritz must be well camouflaged, he decided. If Fritz was there at all …

Suddenly, a shell exploded fifteen feet away, and then another, closer this time. So, even though he couldn’t see any Germans, they’d obviously seen him. They’d spotted the light reflecting off his lenses, he supposed.

You fool, he told himself. You shouldn’t have used binoculars! Now, it was time to go. He inched back down the hillside, accompanied by angry bursts of red and purple fire that made the orange dust spurt up all round him, crawling on his belly like a lizard until he was out of sight of the ridges held by German gunners.