Effie's War, page 14
‘You’ve left Hugh’s teddy bear,’ Toni said.
Effie picked it up.
‘This was given to Duncan by our grandmother Kirsty when he wasn’t much more than a baby,’ she said, looking fondly at the toy. ‘This one can stay.’ She replaced it, then looked at the figure on the bed, which she had been unable to acknowledge. ‘He could be so infuriating at times.’
‘Brothers are meant to be like that,’ said Toni.
‘But he could be such fun, too, particularly when we were little. He was the older brother that Ina and I adored, the one who always got away with that little bit extra, pushing his luck and taking chances that no one else would. Mother often said I was more like Duncan than I would ever admit. I did love him.’
Toni reached for her hand. ‘I’m sure he knew and that he loved you as well.’
Effie moved to sit on the edge of the mattress. At least Duncan’s expression of agony had gone; he looked at peace. She took out her hanky and spat on it.
‘Look at you,’ she said gently to her brother, wiping away some of the soil on his cheek. ‘We can’t have you lying there with a dirty face. You’ll have to be a smart boy for Mother. She’ll be coming to see you later . . . when she’s feeling better.’
Effie smoothed down Duncan’s hair as best she could then laid his arms across his chest and neatly arranged the blanket so that only his head was visible. As she stood up, two figures appeared at the door.
‘Ina!’
Ina stood with Martha, and both women had an air of determination about them.
‘Alastair’s returned,’ said Ina. ‘We explained to him what happened while Hugh was sitting on the settee with his boys, so that they all heard together. Afterwards I asked Hugh if he would stay and let me come home to help. I’ve never been more proud of him. He’s going to remain at the cottage, but he asked if you would go later to see him.’
‘Yes,’ said Effie, barely aware that tears were streaming down her face, as they were on her sister’s.
‘I will not have my son lying in filthy clothes,’ said Martha. She had become the practical farmer’s wife once more and was carrying a bowl of hot water with soap and towels. She turned to Toni. ‘I’m grateful to you for your kindness to my daughter. Please thank your men for their aid. I’ll ask you to leave us now so that we can see to Duncan.’
‘Of course, Mrs Ross.’
*
Toni stuck his head into the kitchen on his way out. There was no sign of the doctor, but the minister was sitting with a mug of tea. He looked ashen and for an instant Toni had the impression that the other man was frightened. Walter caught Toni’s movement out of the corner of his eye and sat up straighter, as if composing himself.
‘Come in,’ he called to Toni. ‘Here, I made a pot of tea. I’ll get you a mug.’
Toni stood by the table, which was still laid out with the remnants of the meal they had all been eating when Fiona burst into the room.
‘Shall we tidy this?’ he asked.
Walter looked surprised at the mess, as if seeing it for the first time. ‘Yes, I suppose we could at least do some of it.’
As quietly as they could the two men cleared away the plates and cutlery. Then they stood by the range and finished their now lukewarm tea.
‘What will happen about telling Mr Ross?’ asked Toni.
Walter signed, his expression sombre. ‘I’ll wait at the gate, so that I can speak to him in private.’
‘I can stay as well, if you like, but I’ll leave when we see him coming along the lane. I know he’s a proud man and it would be best that he is alone with his minister when he learns of such tragic news.’
Walter nodded stiffly. ‘Thanks, Toni. Let’s hope he’s here soon.’
*
While the men were clearing away, Martha and her daughters carefully removed Duncan’s clothes. They worked methodically, tenderly washing and drying his body. No one spoke. Occasionally, one of the women would lean down and kiss his forehead or gently stroke his cheek. Together, they put clean linen on the mattress then dressed him in the family’s best pyjamas, the ones normally only worn if Doctor Gray was visiting. Martha combed Duncan’s hair, and when they had finished he looked as though he was merely sleeping.
23
The Reverend Smith and the undertaker arrived the next morning and arrangements were made for the funeral to take place that coming Saturday. There would be no work on the farm that day, so the Italians would return to their camp on the Friday afternoon.
The community came together, as they always did in times of need. A local farmer arrived with a tractor and his men. With help from the Italians the upturned vehicle was brought back into use, driving the threshing mill once more. Joan, Eileen and Fiona continued to cycle over from Portmahomack, as they had done since bringing the machinery. Like the others, they carried on with a grim determination to get the job completed.
Mr Ross oversaw the activity in the wheat field as usual. He looked pale and withdrawn, but got on with the task in hand. Ina stayed in the house to help her mother, who insisted on preparing meals. Being busy brought a comfort of sorts, albeit a temporary, superficial one.
Effie didn’t speak as she drove the cart to the storage shed. Next to her, Toni also remained silent. She appreciated his understanding that, for the moment, she wanted to be left with her thoughts.
By chance she had been looking out of the kitchen window the previous afternoon when her father had returned home and was met at the gate by the Reverend Smith. She had seen her father sway so severely that the minister had been forced to take a firm hold of his arm and guide him safely indoors. Effie didn’t like to think about the scene that followed, when the man who had always been her strong protector was half-carried into the room, a sobbing wreck with no resemblance to the person she loved and admired. The memory was too raw and she tried to push it away from her mind.
Instead, she thought about how she had kneeled with Hugh the night before to join him in his prayers. Alastair’s sons were a similar age and the three boys were good friends, which helped enormously in making Hugh feel safe. Effie had tucked him up with Duncan’s old teddy bear, telling him that if he cuddled the toy it was, in a way, like comforting Duncan.
Effie turned to Toni yet remained silent. Although they hadn’t spoken that morning, Effie felt closer to Toni than ever before. There was an intimacy in their silence that she hadn’t known – even with Ina. Here was the man she would marry and spend the rest of her life with. In her heart there was no doubt of their future.
*
During the day the family visited Duncan individually, when they felt it was the right time for them. Some sat quietly. Others chattered as if they had bumped into an old friend. Everyone had their own way of coping. There were many hugs and tears between the women and they all made sure they visited Hugh. Mr Ross did not. After his initial burst of grief he had hidden his emotions behind a façade of stoicism that everyone suspected would crumble at some point.
After lunch on the Friday he went to the cottage to deliver Hugh’s best clothes and bring him back for a brief visit. As they walked to the house he explained what was going to happen at the funeral service. His young son, hugging the teddy bear, appeared to accept this quite readily.
As they went up the stairs together, the farmer hoped that he could find the right balance between letting Hugh say farewell in his own way, in private, while remaining nearby in case he became frightened or upset. The window had been left slightly open and the bedroom was very cold. Mr Ross and Hugh stood by the bed without speaking or moving for several minutes, the mist of their breath the only sign of life in the room.
‘He can’t hurt you,’ Mr Ross said.
‘I know that. He never hurt me,’ Hugh replied, turning his attention to the figure on the bed. ‘Hello, Duncan. I’ve brought your teddy bear. I don’t need it now I’m eight.’ Hugh tucked the bear under the blanket so that it nestled against the body, then he reached over and kissed Duncan on the forehead. ‘Thank you for being a good brother. I’ll never forget the fun times we had.’
With that, he straightened up and faced his father.
‘Duncan and I have said goodbye, Father. Can I please see Effie now and have a scone?’
Mr Ross couldn’t answer. He simply nodded and moved to one side to let the boy pass. He listened to Hugh hurry down the stairs and into the kitchen, where his sisters and mother made a great fuss.
Dear God above, Mr Ross thought. Grant me the strength that innocence gives to children.
*
For the men billeted at Kirk Farm, returning early to the camp was a bizarre experience. Toni’s hut felt colder than it did outside, so he lit the stove before unpacking any of his belongings. Still shivering, he left for the mess hall, which he knew would be warm and where he could use his camp tokens to obtain more toothpaste and writing paper.
The POWs sat together for their meal that evening. The cooks were eager to hear news of what they had been doing, but the new arrivals were subdued and not in the mood for excited chatter. Toni was the only person in a hut by himself, but he turned down the offer to join the others once they had eaten.
Instead, he collected his toiletries and went to the wash block. It was strange for there to be no one at the sinks – no part-naked bodies queuing for the showers, no singing or chatter. The silence was total and the building felt desolate, like him.
Once back on his bed he reread his most recent letters, stopping a few minutes before eight o’clock to light a couple of candles. He had wished so often to have some privacy and peace, but being alone was unnerving. He had grown used to hearing men snore and move about, and it was a comfort now. Ironically, sleep looked likely to evade him that night.
He took a couple of blankets and made himself as comfortable as possible in a chair near the stove, positioning the candles to hold some of the surrounding blackness at bay. Toni and Mirko were two of the few POWs who didn’t smoke and it was odd not to see a grey haze drifting in the dim light.
Toni went over the events of the week, right up to leaving the farm that afternoon. He pictured the look of misery on Effie’s face as he was driven away. The family would have to endure the funeral service in the morning and he wondered how they would all cope.
How were he and the woman he loved going to get together once the war was over? Would it be possible for him to remain in Scotland? If he was forced to return to Italy, could he come back? Surely the British authorities couldn’t forbid people from returning, not forever. Perhaps Effie could come to Termoli . . . Whatever happened, he knew that their love would never fade and in that knowledge lay hope.
24
The coffin was outside the front door, on top of a wooden bier. A group of men dressed in their Sunday suits had already gathered around it, with Christopher the sole person in uniform. At a funeral, only the deceased’s immediate female relatives were allowed in the house along with any children. Barbara and her boys, considered part of the family, had arrived earlier with Hugh.
Soon, more men appeared, neighbours and friends, all of the various cousins, second cousins and those so far removed that the lineage connecting them had been lost long ago. It didn’t matter. They came. Those with no links whatsoever came, because this was how it was done. People were practical about such matters and no one considered it strange for a man to turn up and show his respects to someone he had never met.
Martha stood in the doorway with Hugh and her daughters. When it seemed that nobody else was coming, the Reverend Smith began the service.
First there was a reading from Scripture. Then there was the singing of a psalm, a few more readings from Scripture, two prayers and they ended with a psalm. That was it. He said very little about Duncan the person, who he had been or what he had done.
Now there was work to be done, protocol to be adhered to. Death was simply a part of the cycle of life and grief was something to be kept for the privacy of one’s own home . . . of one’s own heart.
Mr Ross, Alastair and Christopher were among the eight men who took hold of the handles along each side of the bier. There were no last minute embraces or gestures of support to the women they loved standing so close by. In the Highlands, even a mother did not go to her son’s graveside when he was buried. Christopher had to force himself not to glance in Ina’s direction.
The minister walked at the front and the others followed in silence behind the coffin. It was too far to carry all the way to the cemetery at Portmahomack and a neighbour was waiting with a horse-drawn cart further along the lane.
The family watched from the doorway as the group walked slowly along the drive and out through the gate. Effie wished that Toni was there to hold her. They hadn’t spoken much during the last few days, but still his presence had been the greatest comfort she could imagine. As the Italians had left the previous afternoon she had felt a terrible loneliness descend upon her.
It was difficult to imagine how life could be borne without him. Kirk Farm and the people on it were being torn apart.
Effie glanced at Ina and saw her own misery reflected in her sister’s face. At least Ina had a secure future ahead with Christopher, a man any woman would be pleased to call her husband. Christopher was considerate and handsome, and Effie had always thought her sister beautiful. There was a refinement about her that went beyond her physical grace.
She reflected, too, how handsome Duncan had been. Many a local girl would have snapped him up if he hadn’t been so flighty. Now he was leaving Kirk Farm for the last time, his body in a wooden box because of a stupid attempt to remove a tree stump that had been in the field for years.
The utter foolishness and waste of it all had washed over the family in waves of anger and guilt. Her father had been beside himself with blame because he had been away that day with Alastair. If either one had been present, Duncan would never have taken the tractor. Effie knew there was a great deal more anguish to come. But for now there were jobs to be done, which would occupy their hands at least.
The distance to Portmahomack meant that no one was expected back at Kirk Farm for at least a couple of hours. It was the custom for close male relatives or friends to return to the deceased’s house for refreshments after a burial. Everyone else would go back to their own homes. Barbara didn’t wait for Alastair and took her sons to the cottage, where she still had much to do in preparation for the family leaving the following day.
Together, Ina and Effie organised Hugh’s room and made up the bed, then Ina went downstairs to join her mother, leaving Effie and Hugh to replace the puppets. A gap was left on the shelf where the teddy bear used to sit. Somehow it seemed the right thing to do. However, Hugh noticed that there was one other item missing.
‘Fee, where’s Mister Postman?’
Effie kneeled in front of him.
‘I’m sorry, I threw him out.’
‘Why?’
‘He upset me.’
Hugh considered this for several moments.
‘I never knew Mister Postman was like that.’
Effie put a hand to her mouth, but still a sound that could either have been a laugh or a sob escaped. Instinctively, Hugh wiped away a tear that was rolling slowly down her cheek.
‘If he was nasty, then I’m glad he’s gone.’
It was too much. She held him tightly and started to cry. Hugh rubbed her back tenderly.
‘Don’t be upset, Fee. It was only a puppet.’
*
That Saturday morning felt more unreal to Toni than the previous evening, as the sight of the empty camp in daylight made it even more desolate. The POWs had little work to do so they played cards, repaired their clothes and listened to the radio in the mess hall. The news was dominated by accounts of huge sea battles between the American and Japanese navies, and the extensive bombing raids that were devastating cities throughout Germany. The men listened for news of the position of Italians held by the Allies in POW camps, but there was nothing.
By mid afternoon trucks started to arrive and during the next hour the camp was transformed into a noisy, bustling place, full of shouting, gesticulating groups of Italians. Mirko found Toni lying on his bed, reading a book in English that Effie had lent him.
‘You look like you’ve been here for ages,’ he said, putting down a bag.
‘I have.’
‘Then why so gloomy?’ asked Mirko, removing the first of the hidden hip flasks from beneath his trousers.
Toni looked at the other man for a while, still unsure how much to tell him of his troubles. However, he needed to talk to someone and Mirko, in his own odd way, had always had a sort of wisdom about him.
‘It’s a long story, so you need to sit down.’ Toni glanced about them. There were other men in the hut, but no one was close enough to overhear. ‘It’s also very private. If anyone comes near, I’ll stop.’
‘All right,’ said Mirko, sitting on his bed opposite. ‘You better have a shot of this.’
Toni’s eyes watered as the liquid burned his throat.
‘Good stuff, eh?’ said Mirko, as he took a swig himself.
Once Toni began it was as though a floodgate had been opened. He told Mirko about Kirk Farm and the Ross family, how he’d fallen in love with Effie and how they wanted to marry, about Duncan being killed under the tractor. Mirko listened patiently, occasionally taking a drink from the flask, but never interrupting. At last Toni paused for a long moment and Mirko thought his friend had finished.
However, Toni still had a story to tell, but for now he remained undecided even after sharing so many of his intimate feelings. The story was about a secret . . . a top secret. He knew Mirko would be pleased to hear it and Toni believed it could do no harm. He took a deep breath then recounted how he had gone upstairs with Effie to see the puppets – he protested when Mirko raised an eyebrow – and then how the unexpected arrival of Mr Ross had forced him to hide in the room of the British officer.
