Читать книгу Daisychain Summer - Elizabeth Elgin - Страница 8

‘I tell you it was Alice,’ Mary Strong insisted. ‘That’s where Miss Julia has been! Miss Julia and her ladyship were talking on the telephone and it was Alice Hawthorn they were talking about! Her ladyship said, “Where are you ringing from, Julia?” and then she said, “Good. That’s handy to know if ever we need to get in touch with Alice.”’

‘Alice Sutton, don’t you mean, and have you forgotten, Mary, that parlourmaids don’t listen to private telephone conversations?’ Cook corrected, her mouth a round of disapproval. ‘And then what did she say?’

‘Then …’ Mary pushed her cup across the table to be refilled, taking another piece of cinnamon toast without so much as a by-your-leave,‘ … then her ladyship said, “And how are Daisy, and Morgan? We mustn’t forget dear old Morgan.”’

‘Alice took Morgan with her, didn’t she,’ Tilda frowned, ‘when she left for Aunt Sutton’s, I mean. And why has she stayed away so long without so much as a word? Surely she’s better, now. And who is Daisy?’

‘Don’t know anything about any Daisy,’ Mary shrugged. ‘But I happen to know that Alice keeps in touch with Miss Julia. I’ve said so all along, haven’t I? I know her writing on the envelopes.’

‘Aye, and as for us not hearing a word,’ Tilda defended, ‘we did make it pretty plain when Alice came back from France Lady Sutton that things had changed, now didn’t we?’

‘Things had to change,’ Cook murmured. ‘Alice wasn’t below stairs any more – Miss Clitherow made sure we knew that, right from the start. And we still aren’t any the wiser, are we?’

‘Curiouser, though.’ A pity, Mary thought, she’d had to move on in mid-conversation, so to speak, but there was a limit to the time it took any one person to walk across the hall. ‘Wonder if Miss Julia will tell us about it? After all, Alice is supposed to be with Miss Sutton and that’s where Miss Julia was supposed to be going. The very last thing her ladyship said to her when she left was, “Give my dearest love to Anne Lavinia, don’t forget. Tell her we don’t see half enough of her.” I heard her!’

‘A lot of supposing, for all that,’ Cook murmured, half to herself.

‘Yes, but Miss Sutton spends most of her time in France,’ Tilda insisted. There could be no doubting it when her ladyship always gave her the stamps from the envelopes for her little brother who collected them. ‘So why do Alice’s letters have a Southampton postmark on them?’

‘Hmmm.’ Cook thought long and hard, then ventured, ‘Happen letters from France get brought over to Southampton on ships and the Post Office there –’

‘Happen my foot!’ Mary interrupted, forgetting herself completely. ‘I see all the letters that come into this house and Miss Sutton’s have a Marseilles or a Nice postmark on them so why, will you tell me, don’t Alice’s?’

‘That’s enough!’ Cook snapped, aware the conversation had gone too far. ‘What Upstairs does and where their letters come from is none of our business and we’d all do well to remember it if we want to keep our positions in these hard times. And not one word of what’s been said in my kitchen is to go beyond these four walls – do I make myself clear?’ She fixed Mary with one of her gimlet glances. ‘We’re all getting as bad as Will Stubbs,’ she added as a final reminder.

‘There’ll be none hear anything from me!’ Mary countered archly. ‘Never a word passes my lips when I’m in Will’s company. I hope I know my place here and have always given satisfaction, Mrs Shaw!’

‘That you have, Mary; that you have – so don’t spoil it!’

Whereupon her ladyship’s cook rose from her chair, indicating that morning break was over. ‘Now let’s all of us be about our business. If we’re intended to know, we’ll be told when Miss Julia gets home, Tuesday. If not, then we keeps our eyes down and our mouths shut tight!’

All the same, she pondered, there were things that didn’t add up, postmarks on letters apart. Just why had Alice stayed away so long? And who was Daisy?

Clementina Sutton was in a tizzy of delight. Not only had the first visiting card she left at the house in Cheyne Walk been accepted by a servant dressed in black from top to toe, but the next day – the very next day, mark you – a card had been delivered by the black-bearded Cossack which indicated, if Russian etiquette ran parallel with English, that Clementina was now free to call. Hadn’t the Countess added the time – 10.30 – in small, neat letters in the bottom, left-hand corner, and tomorrow’s date?

The Countess. Just to think of it made Clementina glow. Merely to look at the deckle-edged card bearing what could only be the family crest embossed in gold and the name Olga Maria, Countess Petrovska beneath it, gave her immense pleasure.

She knew little of the family next door, save that they had fled St Petersburg where the Russian revolution started, though now those Bolsheviks were calling the city Petrograd, if you please! Mind, the Bolsheviks appeared to have gained the upper hand, so were entitled to call it what they wished. The last of the British troops sent to help restore the Czar to his throne had long ago left and heaven help anyone who had the misfortune to fall foul of the men – and women – who waved their triumphant red banners. Shot, like as not, just as the Czar and his family had been.

But it couldn’t happen here, Clementina insisted nervously, even though men were joining trade unions as never before and threats of strikes were always present. But they wouldn’t strike. For every man who withdrew his labour there were ten only too grateful to take his place. She dismissed the British working man from her mind, thinking instead of tomorrow’s call. Investigating the pedigree of refugee Russians and whether the daughter of the house was in the market for a husband might prove interesting. It could turn out to be an extremely enlightening talk.

Talk? But what if the family next door spoke no English; used French as their international language as diplomats did? She would not only feel a fool, but be shown to be one! Then she comforted herself with the thought that any foreigner of any consequence spoke English and if the Russians did not, then they were not worth wasting her time on – which would be a pity, because the daughter of a countess was exactly what she had set her heart upon, for Elliot.

She sighed deeply, then began to search her wardrobe for something suitable to wear, regretting having brought so few clothes with her. And this town house, though small, she resolved, must be brought into full working order and before so very much longer, too. Elliot had dillied and dallied far too long. Now he would be given to understand that he had a twelve-month in which to get himself wed – or else!

She closed the wardrobe door firmly. Nothing there; nothing half good enough in which to call upon a countess. Best take a stroll through the Burlington Arcade and along Bond Street – buy new …

Julia felt a warm glow of homecoming the moment the station taxi entered the carriage drive that swept up to the steps of the old house. For more than three hundred years Rowangarth had stood there, blessing Suttons on their way; welcoming them back.

‘I’ve missed you both!’ She kissed her mother’s cheek, then swept the small, pyjama-clad boy into her arms, closing her eyes, hugging him to her, amazed he should feel so solid, so robust against Daisy’s newborn fragility. ‘It’s good to be back, though it was such a joy being with Alice again. I wanted to bring her home with me.’

‘Come inside, do. It feels quite cold out here.’ Helen Sutton shivered. ‘I promised Drew he should stay up to welcome you, though he’s been fighting sleep this past half-hour.’

‘Then I shall take you upstairs at once, my darling, and tuck you in,’ Julia smiled, kissing him again. ‘Have you had your supper?’

‘Mm. Mummy not go away again?’

‘No, Drew. Next time, you shall come with me. We’ll go for a lovely long ride on a puffing train – now what do you say to that?’

He regarded her solemnly through large grey eyes – Andrew’s eyes – stuck a thumb in his mouth, then laid his head on her shoulder. Almost before she had tucked the bedclothes around him, he was asleep.

‘Now, give me all the news,’ Helen smiled as they sat at dinner. ‘How was Anne Lavinia?’

‘She seemed fine. I gave her your love, as you asked.’ Best not spoil tonight with vague suspicions about her health. ‘She’ll be back in France, by now. I think it was business brought her home. Figgis has retired now, remember. There’s no one in the house, so maybe she thought she’d better check up on things – pick up bills. And she popped in on her doctor. Nothing wrong. Just a quick check-up,’ Julia hastened, feeling better for having mentioned it, albeit briefly. ‘It was good to see Alice again. She and Tom are very happy – and as for little Daisy! Five weeks old and a beauty already. I could have stolen her to be Drew’s sister!’

‘She is Drew’s sister,’ Helen reminded, fork poised. ‘Had you forgotten?’

‘No.’ Nor was she likely to. ‘The christening was lovely. Quiet, but lovely. Alice sent you a piece of cake, by the way.’

‘And Morgan – I almost forgot the old softie. Is he all right?’

‘Morgan’s fine. I’m glad Alice took him with her. He’s never looked so fit – thinner, because he gets a lot more exercise.’

‘And no titbits from Cook,’ Helen supplied.

‘Absolutely not. His coat shines, now. He shares brick kennels with Tom’s two labradors, though he’s really Alice’s dog. When Tom is at work, she lets Morgan out and he sits beside Daisy’s pram, on guard.’

‘Good. Giles would have been pleased …’ Helen paused, reluctant to ask the question uppermost in her mind. ‘About Alice – did you feel – I mean …’

‘Did I ask her about well – what we talked about – and yes, I did. I put it to her, then left it at that; didn’t want her to feel I was pressurizing her to come home. Where Tom is – that’s really her home, now. But I don’t want to lose her. The war took so much from me and she is one of the people I have left who understands. She was with me the day I met Andrew …’ Her eyes took on a remembering look, then she tilted her chin, and smiled. ‘When I left, Tom drove me to the station. He told me they’d talked about it – about Alice visiting us, I mean; said there was no reason at all why she shouldn’t stay with us. And he agreed with me that people should know that he and Alice are married.’

‘Then what are we to tell them?’ Helen frowned. ‘That he wasn’t killed, but taken prisoner …?’

‘Exactly that. Alice and I will tell the same story, be sure of it. No one shall ever know what really happened. We wouldn’t be so foolish as to say anything that would get him arrested, now would we?’

‘Then everything would seem to have worked out very well.’ Helen smiled tremulously. ‘And if we ever need to get in touch with Alice – about Drew, I mean – I believe there is a number we can use?’

‘In the village – it’s called West Welby, by the way. You can ring up from the Post Office, there. They’ve got a tiny switchboard at the back of the office, and if you give them one-and-sixpence for every trunk call, they’ll put you through with no trouble at all. Just one snag. They use an extension phone, so it isn’t very private. People waiting at the counter for stamps and postal orders can have a good old listen.’

‘But they could get a message to Alice?’

‘Of course they could. Alice sews for the postmistress; I believe they are quite friendly. But you seem obsessed with getting in touch with Alice. What has put the idea into your head?’

‘I don’t know. Just don’t want to lose touch, I suppose. And she is Drew’s mother, you know. In law –’

‘Dearest! Alice left Drew in our keeping and she knows we would do anything we had to for him. And I’m sure that if a real emergency arose, we could always ring Windrush – that’s where Tom’s employer lives. Mr Hillier seems a decent man and he’s devoted to Daisy. Never passes the house without taking a peep at her if she’s outside, in her pram. He gave her a beautiful christening mug …’

‘So everything would seem to be all right?’

‘More than all right. They are all very happy and one day soon Alice will visit us. I shall tell Reuben when I give him Alice’s birthday present that before so very much longer he’ll be seeing her. And would it be all right if she and Daisy stayed here?’

‘It would be perfect. And it would be good for Drew to get his nose pushed out a little. He gets far too much attention, that young man,’ she said fondly, complacently. ‘And he can get to know his sister.’

‘His half-sister,’ Julia cautioned. ‘But he isn’t old enough, yet, to be told the truth of it. We’ll have to be very careful when we do tell him; say the right things and not have him imagine his mother abandoned him.’

‘You are the only mother he’s ever known, Julia; he even calls you Mummy. But I agree we must break it to him carefully – when the time comes.’

She stopped, abruptly, as Mary brought in a joint of mutton.

‘What were you saying about Aunt Clemmy being in London?’ Julia hastened, filling the void.

‘I was – er – saying, dear, that she went down there two days ago, though why,’ Helen sighed, ‘I haven’t the slightest idea. She did tell me, though, that Nathan should be on his way home from Africa by now. So good to see him again …’

‘Will you carve, milady, or shall I?’ Clearly, Mary realized, there were to be no snippets to carry back to the kitchen.

‘You do it, Mary – then I’m sure we can look after ourselves quite nicely,’ Helen smiled.

No news at all, Mary brooded, as she closed the dining-room door behind her, because everyone already knew that the Reverend Nathan was expected home at any time and it was the best-known secret hereabouts that Mrs Clementina spent more time in her London house, nowadays, than ever she spent at Pendenys Place. And anyway, who was interested in the Pendenys Suttons? Even that Mr Elliot seemed to be behaving himself these days, she shrugged. Not so much as a whisper of scandal from that quarter. There were times, she was forced to admit, when life around Holdenby could be very dull indeed …

Tom rocked back and forth, humming softly. This was his special time; the time he took Daisy after her evening feed, laying her over his shoulder, cradling her tiny body with his hand, loving her nearness, the softness of her and her sweet baby smell.

‘Is she asleep, yet?’ Alice whispered. ‘Shall I put the kettle on?’

‘Leave it for a while. Sit yourself down, lass.’

Gladly, she did as he asked her, pulling off her shoes, wriggling her toes, contentment pulsing through her like a steady, warm heartbeat.

She looked at her husband through half-closed eyes, seeing the small smile of pleasure that tilted the corners of his mouth. This last half-hour of the day always belonged to Tom and Daisy; their together time, when he would rock her to sleep.

She smiled, wondering what pleased him so – apart from his daughter, that was. Closing her eyes, she set her chair rocking.

My, but they’d had a grand time, the three of them, Tom thought. These past four days had done Alice a power of good. He had never before realized how close the two women had grown. Sisters? They were that, all right. And how proud he’d felt at the christening. It was, Julia had said as he’d driven her to the station to catch the early morning train, quite the nicest she had ever been to.

‘I did so enjoy it. Daisy was very good,’ she smiled. ‘Well, apart from that cry of utter rage when she felt the water on her head. Did you know, Tom, that Daisy is my only godchild? No one has ever asked me before.’

‘It was kindly of you to accept, though Alice wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. The day the bairn was born she said she wanted you to stand for her. And it was good of you,’ he murmured, ‘to give her such a lovely present.’

‘It belonged to Grandmother Whitecliffe. I know it isn’t usual to give a brooch at a christening, but I thought sapphires would suit her eyes – if they stay so beautifully blue, that is.’

‘Alice was overcome. There are twenty-one stones in it. She counted.’

‘Very small stones, Tom. I really chose it because it was in the shape of a daisy, though daisy petals aren’t blue and the pearl in the middle should have been yellow.’

‘Alice says she won’t be allowed to wear it till she’s old enough to take good care of it.’

‘She’s my only god-daughter – take good care of her.’

‘You know I will. And here we are …’ He slowed the pony to a walk, guiding it carefully into the station yard, tying the reins to the fence before helping her down.

‘It’s been grand, having you with us. Come and visit again – bring the little lad.’

‘I will. As soon as Alice can accept him, I promise I will. And thank you for making me so welcome. When things get bad, I shall know where to run, now …’

‘It still hurts, then?’ There was understanding in his eyes, and compassion.

‘Like the very devil, Tom. Sometimes I want to beat my fists against the wall, and scream. It’s a good thing I’ve got Drew to keep me sane.’ The train let off a hiss of steam, then clanked to a stop. Smiling bravely, she turned to him, holding out her hand in goodbye. ‘Don’t wave me off, Tom? Just give me a hand with my cases, then go?’

‘If that’s what you want …’

‘It is. I like to be met, but partings dismay me.’

‘Right, then!’ He lifted her cases high onto the luggage rack, then stepping down he gathered her to him, holding her tightly. ‘Thanks for all you did for Alice when she was in need of a friend. If there’s ever anything we can do for you, we’ll do it – no questions asked.’ He cupped her face in his hands, laying his lips gently to her forehead. ‘You’re a lovely lady, Julia MacMalcolm. Come and see us again, soon? Don’t wait for the next christening?’

‘I won’t – be sure of it. Now off you go – please? No goodbyes …’

He thought a lot about Julia and her ladyship on his way home and about the little lad up there at Rowangarth. And he thought about what he and Alice had talked about, last night in bed. It had been her decision entirely, yet he had agreed with it, even though he told her to sleep on it, then sleep on it again before she wrote to Lady Helen. But when Alice’s mind was made up there was nothing would change it. She would think on, like he said, yet still she would write that letter to Rowangarth, and now that she had accepted the way things were, it was best for all concerned she should do it.

He felt a sudden pricking of tears and coughed sternly, blowing his nose loudly. And it hadn’t really been tears he had felt – more like a tingling of happiness – nay, gratitude – that his world should be so damn-near perfect, because how many men had everything they could wish for on the face of this earth? How many?

Tom Dwerryhouse was not a praying man, but he had lifted his eyes to the early morning sky and whispered, ‘Thanks’; whispered it so quietly that only God could hear him. Then he shook his head, feeling foolish at his daftness, and slapped the reins down hard and called, ‘Hup!’ to the pony.

But how many men were lucky as Tom Dwerryhouse? Certainly not Giles Sutton nor his brother Robert, nor Andrew MacMalcolm. They had nothing but a hero’s death; no Alice, no nestling girl child to rock to sleep. And Julia had so little. Only young Drew, and her memories. Happen this morning he should not have kissed her goodbye, but he’d done it on an impulse, seeing the naked sadness in her eyes, the aloneness. It had been a kiss of compassion, of comfort, and she had not taken it amiss. That brief closeness between them had prompted him to whisper,

‘No goodbyes, but don’t look so lost, Julia lass. Alice shall come and visit, I promise you. All I ask is that she won’t meet up with young Sutton. I couldn’t abide it if he was to upset her again. If I ever thought there was the smallest chance of that, I wouldn’t want her to go.’

‘He won’t upset her, be sure of that! You know how I detest him,’ Julia had said, tight-mouthed. ‘Alice and Daisy will be safe, at Rowangarth.’

‘Detest? Aye, that’s how I feel about him an’ all. That one’s a creature only a mother could love – and there must be times when even she loses patience with him.’

‘Don’t worry, Tom. Always remember that I don’t want them to meet, either. It’s every bit as important to me he should never suspect that Drew is his.’

‘But mightn’t he suspect already?’ Tom frowned.

‘He might, but suspicion is one thing; proof is quite another. It’s his word against Rowangarth’s, don’t forget. Even his brother Nathan is on our side. Elliot wouldn’t dare!’

‘Happen you are right. And why are we spoiling the last of your holiday talking about him,’ he’d laughed, making light of it, and she had stepped onto the train, taking the window seat, smiling. She was still smiling, chin high, when he turned for a last look at her. She would be home, now, at Rowangarth, poor lass; back to her lonely bed with no one to kiss her, make love with her, tell her everything would be all right.

‘Damn that war!’ he gasped.

‘Tom?’ Alice was at his side in an instant, eyes anxious. ‘What is it, love? What was it you just said?’

‘Dreaming,’ he mumbled, cursing his carelessness. ‘Must have nodded off. Aye – happen I was dreaming …’

‘About the war! It’s been over two years, almost, yet still it’s always there, at the backs of our minds. Don’t think anyone who was in France will rightly forget …’

‘No. It’s got a lot to answer for. But let’s get this bairn up to her cot? She’s fast asleep.’

Carefully, he got to his feet, cupping the little head protectively in his hand. Then half-way up the stairs he turned abruptly.

‘Alice, I do love you – but you know it, don’t you?’

‘I know it,’ she said softly, and there was no need for reassurance, because her eyes said it for her. I love you. I shall always love you …

‘Off you go,’ she said softly. ‘Put her in her cot. I’ll set the kettle on. We’ll have a sup of tea, then I’ve got a letter to write …’

‘There, now.’ Alice lay down her pen and corked the ink bottle. ‘That’s over and done with. I’ll post it in the morning when I go to the village. Just one thing more, Tom …’

‘Whatever else?’ he smiled indulgently. ‘Can’t it wait until morning?’

‘That it can’t! I’m in the mood for setting things to rights. I’ve written to Rowangarth – now there’s one thing more I must tell you.

‘You mind you said that Daisy did well at her christening – had so many lovely things given to her that the West Welby lads’d be courting her for her dowry – or something daft like that …?’

‘A joke, love, though I’ve given the matter a deal of thought,’ he said gravely, though his eyes were bright with teasing, ‘and there’s none in that village half good enough for our Daisy! But what’s brought all this on?’

‘Like I said – setting things to rights, because happen you should know that you might be more right than you realize – about the bairn, I mean …’

‘Alice?’ He moved towards her, but she got to her feet, taking up a position behind her chair. And she always did that, he frowned, when something bothered her. ‘Tell me, sweetheart?’

‘Our Daisy does have a dowry,’ she whispered, eyes on the chairback. ‘First thing I did after she was born was to open a bank account in her name.’

‘And what’s wrong with that, bonny lass? Nice to think she’ll have a bit of brass to draw on if ever she should need it. I’ve set my heart on her getting a scholarship to the Grammar School – there’ll be fancy uniform to buy, and –’

‘Tom! Stop your dreaming! There’s years and years before we need think about that. She’s hardly six weeks old, yet! And if you’re set on educating her,’ she added reluctantly, ‘she can always be paid for.’

‘And just how, might I ask? It costs good money every term at that school if a child hasn’t the brains to get a free place, though happen we’d manage.’ Rabbits to sell, he calculated. Rabbits were vermin and all a keeper caught, it was accepted, were his own. And rabbit skins and mole skins fetched a fair price and –

‘Will you listen, Tom? It would be nothing to do with managing. Daisy has enough money of her own!’

There now, she’d said it and please God that Dwerry-house temper wouldn’t flash sudden and sharp.

‘Her own? Tell me, Alice?’

His voice was soft, ordinary almost. They weren’t going to have words if only because it was Daisy they were talking about. She drew in a breath of relief.

‘When I was married to – when I was at Rowangarth and I thought of you as dead …’

‘When you were Lady Sutton, wed to Sir Giles,’ he supplied. ‘Lovey, we’ve had all this out. It happened. You did what you had to. Don’t talk about it as if it’s something to be ashamed of. Just tell me about Daisy’s bank book.’

‘All right, then. Giles made me an allowance – I didn’t touch it, hardly. It didn’t seem right. Any road, when I came to you there was most of it left …’

‘And all we’ve got in this house – it was that money paid for it,’ he gasped.

‘No. You know that after you and me were wed, I sent to Rowangarth for my things – my own things – all the bedding and linen I’d collected, the rest of my clothes, the chest of drawers Reuben gave us …’

‘Aye. And instead of them being delivered by the railway, they came in a carrier’s motor, and all manner of things, beside!’

‘Yes. Another bed, a washstand and jug and bowl, and rugs and kitchen chairs and –’

‘It was good of Julia to send them and wrong of me to think otherwise.’

‘Furniture Rowangarth had no need of, and kindly given. And the rest of our home came out of my own savings, Tom, I promise you. I didn’t use a penny of Giles’s money. All I ever took from it was money for Daisy’s pram – and whilst I’m about it, that pram cost five guineas. Our little one was to have the finest coach-built perambulator I could lay hands on, I vowed. And besides, it’ll come in nicely for the rest of our bairns. Good things always last,’ she added with defiant practicality.

‘That great posh pram will outlast six more, then!’ he laughed. ‘We’re going to have to be busy if we’re to get our value out of it.’

‘Sweetheart – you aren’t angry? You don’t think I should have told you before this?’

‘I’m not angry.’ He loved her too much. They were too happy, the three of them, that he’d be a fool ever to lose his temper again. ‘But might a man be told how wealthy a daughter he’s got?’

‘Aye. I reckon I owe you that.’ Alice opened the dresser drawer, slid her fingers beneath the lining paper and took out the bank book. ‘See for yourself …’

‘Heck!’ His eyes widened; he let go a gasp of disbelief. ‘That’s enough to buy this house we’re living in and then some!’

‘That’s just about it. And not a penny of it can be touched till she’s seven and can sign her own name to get at it. But I don’t want her to know about it, Tom; don’t want her thinking she can have all the toys she wants, nor any bicycle she thinks fit to choose. Daisy Dwerryhouse cuts her coat according to our cloth; I’ve made up my mind about that. So not one word, mind …’

‘Not a word! But think on, eh – our Daisy rich!’

‘Rich my foot! She’s got something put by, that’s all. Rich is – well, it’s like Mr Hillier is and the Pendenys Suttons.’ She stopped, abruptly. ‘Sorry, Tom. We don’t talk about them, do we? Only about Nathan …’

‘Only about the Reverend, who’s the best of the bunch of them. But tell me what’s in yon’ letter to her ladyship?’ He nodded towards the envelope on the mantelpiece, waiting to be stamped and posted. ‘Or am I not to know?’

‘I think you know already, but I’ll tell you all about it when I get her reply – which will be soon, I shouldn’t wonder. Now give the fire a stir, will you, and hurry that kettle up. And Tom – I do so love you. We aren’t too happy, are we?’ she whispered, all at once afraid.

‘No, sweetheart. I’ve always been of the opinion that we get what we deserve in this life and what we’ve got, you and me, we paid for – in advance. So stop your worriting and make your man that sup of tea!’

Almost without thinking, his hand strayed to his pocket and the rabbit’s foot he kept there; his lucky rabbit’s foot. Reuben had given it to him the day before he’d left Rowangarth to join the Army; given one to Davie and Will Stubbs an’ all, and all three of them came through that war. He had great faith in that old rabbit’s foot, he thought, curling his fingers around its silky softness. It had taken care of him in the war and now it would take care of Alice and the bairn – and their happiness. Stood to reason, didn’t it? And Alice should go home to Rowangarth just as soon as maybe – let old Reuben see Daisy – be blowed if she shouldn’t!

He smiled his contentment, pushing the kettle deeper into the coals.

Too happy? Of course they weren’t!