A Woman's Courage Page 24

  Privately, Alison worried about Annie taking charge, pushing Teresa into an arrangement she might not otherwise have chosen. Teresa was vulnerable, grieving, in no position to think clearly about the wisdom of changing the entire course of her life. And she ’d only just lost Nick – it was too soon.

  Teresa had been the subject of rumours before, and Alison understood how corrosive gossip could be.

  ‘People can be cruel,’ she told John. ‘We both know that. ’

  ‘And we both also know you can’t dictate to someone how to live their life,’ he replied. ‘She’s got to work it out for herself, mistakes and all. ’

  All the same, Alison was not so sure.

  *

  ‘You look tired,’ Annie said.

  Teresa yawned. ‘I’m always tired these days. ’ She rested a hand on her bump. ‘I have you to thank for that,’ she told the bump.

  They were relaxing in the sitting room before bed. One of Annie’s records was on the gramophone. Annie placed a stool on the rug and gently eased Teresa’s feet onto it. ‘It’s good to put your feet up,’ she said. ‘Something to do with circulation. ’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor. ’ Teresa smiled. Annie knelt beside her and began rubbing her feet. ‘That feels nice. Do you think my ankles will ever look anything like they did before?’ Teresa wondered.

  ‘You’re lucky, they’re barely swollen at all. You just need to make sure you get plenty of rest and keep your feet up. ’

  Teresa yawned again. Since losing Nick, she had felt exhausted all the time. At Annie’s insistence she had been taking an afternoon nap, sleeping soundly for an hour before being woken with a cup of tea. Often she emerged from sleep disorientated and deeply distressed. It was as if her grief was at its most raw in those moments when she was not quite awake. Somehow Annie knew what to do, holding her and soothing her until her tears subsided. It wasn’t easy for her, Teresa supposed, dealing with so much heartache when she too was grieving for Nick.

  ‘Thank you,’ Teresa said.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Everything. For being here and for being so understanding. Especially after . . . before. ’ She looked away. Months earlier, after they had slept together, Annie had been keen to keep things going between them. I don’t want to deny the feelings between us was how she had put it. As long as they were careful, she had said, no one need get hurt. Nick would never find out. Teresa could not take the chance, and had wondered if their friendship would survive.

  ‘I wasn’t sure I’d see you again,’ Teresa said quietly, ‘or that you’d want anything to do with me after what happened. ’

  ‘I never blamed you. If anything, I was cross with myself for thinking we could conduct any kind of secret relationship. I wasn’t being fair, to you or to Nick. ’

  ‘We’re all right now, though, aren’t we?’

  ‘I think so. ’

  Teresa closed her eyes. ‘I’m glad you’re here. I’d be scared on my own, even more than I am already. ’

  Annie gave her ankle a squeeze. ‘What is it you’re most afraid of?’

  Teresa looked at her and sighed. ‘It might sound ridiculous, but even now I can’t quite imagine having a baby. ’

  ‘You’ve still time to get used to the idea. ’ Annie smiled. ‘Not much, mind you. ’

  ‘But seriously, I can’t help thinking – what’s it going to be like when the moment comes? Will I know when I’m in labour? What if I can’t tell the difference between a touch of indigestion, which I seem to suffer from rather a lot these days, and an actual contraction?’

  Annie gave a wry smile. ‘I think you’ll be able to tell. ’

  ‘And then I worry that when the moment comes, I won’t be able to manage it. ’ The idea of giving birth was alarming. It was something she had mentioned to Dr Rosen, who simply said in that calm way of hers that she had no doubt Teresa would manage perfectly well. She gestured at her bump. ‘Look at the size of me, Annie. I’m huge. ’

  ‘Try not to worry. When the time comes I’ve every confidence your body will know what to do even if you don’t. And you’ll be in very good hands. ’

  Teresa nodded. ‘Thank goodness one of us is calm. ’

  ‘It’s easy for me,’ Annie said. ‘I’m not the one who actually has to do it. ’ She looked serious. ‘I’ll be with you every step of the way, I promise – holding your hand if you want me to. ’

  Teresa nodded sleepily. ‘That really does make me feel better. ’

  *

  Annie came to the door. She explained that it wasn’t a good time, that Teresa was resting.

  ‘I don’t mind waiting, or coming back a bit later,’ Alison offered.

  Annie hesitated. ‘I hope you won’t mind me being frank, but the last time you were here, you managed to upset her. ’

  Alison frowned. ‘That certainly wasn’t my intention. ’

  ‘I know, but—’ Annie folded her arms, giving the impression she was ready to do battle on Teresa’s behalf. ‘She shouldn’t be upset in her condition. ’

  ‘Will you let her know I called? She could always come to me when she’s feeling up to it. ’ She hesitated. ‘You’d both be welcome, of course. ’

  Annie nodded. ‘Oh, she did say one thing – she asked if you wouldn’t mind leaving your key. We could do with a spare. ’

  Alison felt inside her handbag and brought out the key on its leather fob. As she gave it to Annie, she felt suddenly sad. Teresa was slipping from her, further than ever. She knew she couldn’t leave things like this. John had urged her to make things right and be there for Teresa – for Annie too, if need be.

  ‘Annie,’ she began, ‘I’ve a feeling we got off on the wrong foot. ’ She looked awkward. ‘Or rather, I did. I can be a little . . . overprotective of Teresa at times. ’ She remembered what John had said about trusting Teresa to know her own heart. ‘I can see how well the two of you get along, and I’m glad she has someone who cares so much for her, I really am. ’ She took a breath. ‘I’d like to think you and I can be friends. ’

  Annie seemed a little unsure but finally she nodded, relieved. ‘She’ll be awake in an hour. Why don’t you come back then?’

  Chapter 38

  ‘T

  HE LAST TIME YOU came to see me, I seem to recall feeling embarrassed at the poor state of the china cup I was forced to serve your tea in,’ Joyce said.

  ‘I remember,’ Adam said, smiling. ‘I didn’t mind in the least. ’

  ‘You must have thought me rather foolish to have been concerned about something so trivial when I was about to move house and had far more important matters to think about. ’

  ‘Not at all. Sometimes it’s easier to focus on the small things as a way of not thinking too much about the more challenging aspects of life. We all do it. ’

  It was certainly something he had done increasingly of late, when trying to make sense of what he now knew was a deep crisis of faith. He felt lost, no longer sure who he was or what he stood for. There were so many questions to do with what (or indeed if) he believed, and whether or not he and God were even on speaking terms. It was all proving extremely vexing, this search for answers he seemed unable to find. Overwhelmed at times, he would push such difficult thoughts aside and instead simply recite the Lord’s Prayer.

  It seemed to help.

  ‘I wanted to come and see you,’ he told Joyce, ‘because I think you deserve to know why I shut myself away for a time when I got back to the village. ’

  Joyce shook her head. ‘I’ve no doubt there was a very good reason. ’

  He hesitated. ‘The truth is, I really wasn’t myself. ’ He frowned, thinking back. ‘I arrived on the doorstep late one night in a bad way. From the look on Sarah’s face, I’m not sure she even knew me. ’

  ‘Oh, but surely . . . ’

  ‘It was quite a journey getting here. ’ He sighed. ‘I’m not even sure I knew mys
elf by the time I got home. ’

  Joyce was quiet, taking this in. ‘Once I heard you were back I was overjoyed,’ she said at last. ‘It was an enormous relief to know you were safe and that our prayers had been answered. And yet how you got here and what you might have experienced on the way is something I know nothing about. I imagine it took quite a toll, both physically and mentally. ’

  He kept his head bowed. ‘I thought I understood about suffering. Christ on the cross. And yet . . . there was a child, a boy, he couldn’t have been any older than Noah. ’ Adam could see the boy again, a slight figure in a cap and overcoat, knee-length socks, among a group of Jewish families being driven deep into the forest. ‘The Nazis were rounding up Jews and taking them to remote spots,’ he said. Adam had watched from a distance with Eddie and George as the ragged procession made its way to a clearing and came to a stop. The boy who had caught Adam’s eye was among the first to be shot. He winced at the memory, so vivid. ‘They killed them all, even the children, and left them where they fell. ’ He looked up. Joyce’s eyes were bright with tears. ‘We could hear the soldiers laughing. ’

  She searched in a pocket for a hanky. It was a while before she was able to speak. ‘It must make you wonder how God can allow such things,’ she said quietly.

  ‘It does, I’m afraid. I’ve been left with so many questions. ’ And, as yet, very few answers.

  *

  Adam studied the drab mounds on the plate Sarah had placed in front of him. He was not entirely sure what they were meant to be.

  ‘Carrot biscuits,’ she informed him. ‘Try one. ’

  The biscuit fell to pieces as soon as he picked it up, sending a shower of crumbs across the table. Sarah frowned. ‘The texture’s not quite right. It’s only my first attempt. ’

  Adam scooped up a few of the crumbs. The taste reminded him of shortbread. ‘Do I detect the hand of Lord Woolton?’ he said.

  ‘Actually, Gwen Talbot gave me the recipe. ’ It was a Ministry of Food invention, Gwen said, crediting Marguerite Patten. Sarah had been impressed with the uniform round shapes Gwen had managed to produce; they were sweet and light, proper home-made biscuits. At Sarah’s request, Gwen had copied out the recipe.

  Nothing to it, she said. Sarah begged to differ.

  Her own batch had cracked in the oven and emerged looking like . . . what? Meringues gone wrong, she decided. She couldn’t understand it. The recipe was straightforward enough, just four items, and she had followed it to the letter. At the very first stage, however, as she creamed together margarine and sugar, she sensed she was in trouble. The mixture was supposed to be ‘fluffy’ but hers looked more like a paste. There seemed too little grated carrot, too much flour and, despite her best efforts, it refused to bind. Taking great care, she had patted the dry mixture into rounds and hoped for the best. After twenty minutes in the oven on a brisk heat, the result was beige, misshapen lumps.

  ‘They’re not bad. ’ Adam had resorted to a teaspoon to scrape up what was left of the crumb mixture on his plate. ‘Definitely an improvement on that “chocolate” cake you made – which, if I remember rightly, didn’t actually have any chocolate in it. ’

  Sarah pulled a face. She had used beetroot. It was not her finest effort.

  ‘I went to see Gwen the other day and she produced a rather impressive cake,’ Adam said. ‘Couldn’t tell you what was in it, but it was delicious. ’

  ‘Carrots, I expect. She’s got more than she knows what to do with. ’ After a moment, Sarah said, ‘What did you think – does she seem to be managing?’

  ‘Better than I expected, if I’m honest. It’s a weight off her shoulders knowing Ronald’s finally getting the help he needs. ’

  Ronald had appeared before magistrates and received a suspended sentence for the sheep killings. A sum was agreed in compensation to Jim Morton for the loss of his livestock. Dr Rosen told the court that Ronald had suffered traumatic injuries while serving his country, sufficient to be medically discharged from his unit, and would greatly benefit from specialist treatment.

  ‘But the asylum,’ Sarah said. ‘It seems so . . . extreme. Some people go in and never come out again. ’

  ‘Almost always when that happens you’ll find the patient has been abandoned by their family, and that’s not going to happen in Ronald’s case. Despite everything, Gwen is utterly devoted to him. ’ Adam paused. ‘I’ve said I’ll go with her to see him, if she ’d like me to. ’

  Sarah was surprised. ‘Is it wise to become so involved when you’re still not sure you even want to resume your role as vicar of St Mark’s?’

  ‘I’ve been giving it a good deal of thought. I’ve been . . . asking for guidance. ’ He smiled. ‘From a God I thought I no longer believed in, which tells you something. ’

  He ’d spent hours closeted away in his study, reading and thinking, doing his best to unravel the scramble of thoughts that pulled him in different directions, certain at times that he had lost his faith entirely. Sometimes as he prayed he lost the thread of what it was he was trying to say. On other occasions, it was almost as if God was so close he could feel His presence, a powerful force that was both uplifting and transformational. Following such periods of quiet contemplation, he would emerge feeling as if he had the beginnings of clarity, an idea about which path to take. Filled with optimism, the following day he would attempt to pray once more and be met with . . . silence. Unwilling to bow to disappointment, he determined to press on, finding comfort in ritual, forming the habit of lighting a candle before kneeling at his prie-dieu and asking for God’s guidance. Gradually, he began seeing his parishioners and was touched to find that everyone had missed him, even those who rarely attended the services at St Mark’s.

  At every turn, he was overwhelmed by the warmth with which the villagers greeted him. Miriam Brindsley had wept when she saw him.

  It made him think that perhaps he was still capable of doing some good.

  ‘When I first got back, I couldn’t even see myself in church, let alone at the altar leading a congregation in prayer,’ he said. ‘I’d have felt a fraud, pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes. ’

  ‘And now?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘I realise I’m starting to miss it, that there are useful things I might do by focusing my attention on the needs of others rather than allowing my thoughts to turn constantly inwards. Too much introspection can be defeating. All the wondering why, the asking of questions no one can answer. It feels as if I’ve done enough of that of late, and that it might now be doing more harm than good. ’

  Sarah took his hand. Only the slightest trace of the troubled expression he had worn when he first arrived home now remained. ‘You know I’ll support you in any way I can,’ she said.

  ‘I feel as if I need to do something,’ Adam said. ‘I can’t see this war ending any time soon. ’

  Across Europe, Jewish people were being massacred. A campaign was under way by the Nazis and their allies to crush the Soviets. In Odessa, in late October, as Adam was on the final stage of his journey home, tens of thousands of Jews had been executed, some burned alive. The following month the RAF sent bombers to pound Berlin, Cologne and the Ruhr, suffering heavy losses in the process.

  ‘There’s a sense of things escalating, especially now, after Pearl Harbor,’ he said, frowning.

  A week earlier, on 7 December, Japanese aircraft had launched an attack on the American fleet in Hawaii, killing thousands, sinking the USS Arizona with the loss of more than eleven hundred lives. Within hours, both Britain and America had declared war on Japan. In the days that followed, Germany declared itself to be at war with the US.

  ‘It’s a good thing, surely, now the Americans have entered the war,’ Sarah said.

  ‘I struggle to find much “good” in any of it. ’ Adam sighed. ‘But I feel ready to serve the parish again, properly. At least I should make a start, do what I can. ’ He smiled. ‘I’ve d
ecided to take the service on Christmas Day. ’

  *

  Sarah called on Frances and found her in the dining room immersed, as she so often was, in WI business. From outside came the sound of hammering.

  ‘Are you having some building work done?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Not exactly. ’ Frances smiled. ‘John has taken on the challenge of building a treehouse for Noah. ’

  They went to the window. At the bottom of the garden at the back of the house John, in his usual trilby hat and a pair of Spencer’s overalls, was driving nails into planks of wood. Noah stood close by, watching his every move.

  Sarah smiled. ‘How did that come about?’

  ‘I was in the village the other day with Noah and I bumped into John walking Elsa. As you know, Noah’s extremely fond of John and always makes a fuss when he sees him. Before I knew it he was saying something about a treehouse, and John happened to show a degree of enthusiasm. Noah seemed to take this to mean they would get on and build one together. ’ Frances gave an amused shrug. ‘John said he ’d be only too happy to give it a go, so I suggested he take a look in the garage and see what materials there might be and . . . voila! I’m told we should have a treehouse by the weekend. I offered to pay him for his help, but he refused. ’

  Sarah smiled. ‘Noah’s completely absorbed, look at his face. ’ The hammering stopped and he helped John rummage among the pile of offcuts for another suitable plank of wood.

  ‘They kept going all through lunch, Claire took them sandwiches,’ Frances said. ‘I thought I’d take the opportunity while Noah’s occupied to turn my mind to WI matters. I was wondering whether we might consider starting a choir. We have some rather good voices among our ranks, and it seems a waste to confine them to a rendition of “Jerusalem” once a month. What do you think?’

  ‘What sort of music had you in mind?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘I hadn’t got as far as that. Something choral, perhaps. “Messiah”. The “Hallelujah Chorus”. ’ She caught Sarah’s look. ‘I realise that might be somewhat ambitious, but the right kind of music can provide a great deal of succour. ’