‘So he said, though not why.’
‘I have a theory.’ Eddie flopped down on the far bunk, a grin on his face. ‘I reckon she’s done a runner. She left when war was declared and never came back.’
‘Could be she doesn’t like being bombed night and day.’
‘I don’t think that’s it. The raids here are tip and run. Nothing like London. The bombers only let fly on their way back from the city. There’s been a direct hit on a cinema or two, but otherwise it’s been a breeze. Maybe it’s Ralph’s pa – he’s not to her fancy any more.’
‘Whatever the reason, it’s a shame for the boy. He’s too young to be motherless.’
Jos knew what it felt like to live without a mother. People could be kind, could be caring, but it wasn’t the same. It was like having a spare blanket thrown over you in winter, as you slept; there was always a piece the blanket didn’t cover, a piece that stayed cold.
Eddie yawned. ‘Ralph doesn’t seem too worried. He’s got his father and there’s a mountain of servants to look after him. A different world, my friend. But he’s a great kid. He likes a bit of fun. Yesterday, we made some pretend footprints in the mud right down in the badlands. Where you came in. They were huge, animal paw prints and he persuaded one of those toffee-nosed footmen at Amberley that there was a jaguar prowling Summerhayes. When the guy came over – he’d been instructed to find out what was going on by the butler – they actually have a butler – it was a gas watching him creep around that stinking lake and then find our clay moulds hidden under a bush. The moulds were Master Ralph’s doing. He’s clever with his hands.’
Jos remembered other practical jokes Eddie had played, not all of them well received. He was a great friend and a staunch comrade, but sometimes he crossed the line without ever being aware he had.
‘I’m surprised the boy is here at all,’ was all he said. ‘And I think you’re wrong about it being a breeze. This far south must be a prime target for the bombers. The coast is vulnerable – I imagine we’re close to the sea?’
‘Two miles away. Beautiful beaches, some of them, but off limits for sightseeing. Barbed wire fences and every pebble sown with mines. Well, hopefully not every pebble. I reckon that’s where we’ll be exercising.’
Jos gave a slow nod. ‘It’s going to be a seaborne invasion all right, but where from? Several battalions have been moved east along the Kent coast, but we’ve come west.’
‘A cunning plan by the great and the good?’
‘Most likely. If there’s a large force in Dover, the Krauts will be expecting an assault on the Pas de Calais. But I learnt from a guy at Aldershot that there’s been a big deployment to Scotland, too. That would mean invading through Norway.’
Eddie rustled through an untidy heap on his mattress, looking for a cigarette. ‘It’s so damned hush hush, we won’t be told until the last minute. Are we the deception or the real thing, do you think?’
Jos gave a low whistle. ‘If we’re the real thing, it means we’ll be on our way to Normandy. And that’s ambitious, to put it mildly. The Germans are thoroughly dug in there. They look impregnable. It’ll take a huge amount of planning to get it right, if it’s even possible.’
‘We’ll be the ones to find out. Aren’t we lucky? And pretty soon. To have any chance, it’s gotta be this summer. But hey, no worries. The planning’s done and now it’s just a simple matter of practice.’ He lit his cigarette and puffed contentedly.
‘Or not so simple.’ Jos rolled off the bed and stretched his tall frame as well as he could beneath the low ceiling. ‘Can you imagine the assault – for the infantry, for the crews of the landing craft? How to beach and unbeach. Then the tank crews on how to manoeuvre ashore. You know they’ve converted the tanks to be amphibious? If we’re in the wrong place, or in the wrong order, or if we don’t liaise sufficiently with each other or don’t liaise with the air force or the navy… we could be in for a disaster that’ll make Dieppe seem like a school outing.’
Eddie looked glumly at him. ‘You sure know how to bring a man down.’
The words hung in the air and both fell silent until Jos remembered his unwashed state. ‘I must track down that shower. Coffee would be good when I get back. Then I’ll be up to the house to see McMasters and across the fields to find the men. If your guess is right, we’re on our way to the beach tomorrow.’
‘Looks like it,’ Eddie said. ‘Tomorrow and the next few tomorrows as well.’
Bethany found the next few hours difficult. Ralph was even less willing than usual to buckle down to his studies and she couldn’t blame him: synonyms and antonyms had none of the appeal of the military. All the boy wanted was to talk about the tanks and trucks and guns he’d watched trundle into Summerhayes that day and, above all, talk of the new friend he’d made. Eddie Rich had been a splendid addition to his world but evidently Jos Kerrigan was as splendid, and Ralph couldn’t stop mentioning him. Jos had made a striking figure, she conceded, but it was a figure she’d no wish to know better. When Eddie had introduced them, the man’s face had changed. Quite distinctly. It had become a mask, stonily indifferent. Perhaps he was one of those men who thought women foolish, fripperies with whom to have fun, but an unwanted nuisance in serious matters.
Ralph had taken at least sixty minutes to labour through the two columns of words she’d prepared, and now he was tapping his pencil against his head and looking longingly towards the kitchen window. A slight stirring from the next room broke the silence. Alice was awake and Beth must attend to her before she took Ralph through his spidery list. The old lady was always a trifle grumpy when she woke, and this afternoon she had been jerked from a deep sleep by the crash of equipment being unloaded just below her window. As Beth had anticipated, she was fractious and it took a while to settle her into a comfortable chair, bring her a glass of water and switch on the wireless to warm. It was almost two o’clock, time for Alice’s favourite – Afternoon Cabaret on the Home Service – though she doubted the old lady understood one in four of Bob Hope’s jokes.
When she went back to the kitchen, Ralph had left his seat and was pressing his forehead against the window, looking wistfully down at the garden. It was a hopeless situation; there was no chance she would get more work out of him today.
‘You can pack up your books,’ she said, admitting defeat, ‘but on one condition.’
Ralph whirled around, an overjoyed expression on his face, and started flinging school books into the leather satchel he carried.
‘I said on one condition,’ she reminded him.
Surprised, he stopped buckling the satchel’s straps. ‘You’re to go straight home. No wandering around the gardens, no talking to the soldiers. Is that understood?’
He looked crestfallen but then nodded his head in agreement.
‘And you learn the final column of synonyms when you get back to Amberley. I’ll test you the next time you come.’
‘That’s a second condition.’
‘Or we can do it right now.’
‘No,’ he said hastily. ‘I’ll learn them tonight.’
‘Good. I won’t see you tomorrow but come the next day, in the morning. Mrs Summer will have a visitor with her and we can work in here while they talk. Come around ten o’clock.’
The boy nodded agreement. ‘You’re okay, you know, Miss Merston.’
She smiled wryly. ‘Thank you for your approval, Master Fitzroy. Now go on, hurry home.’
When he’d gone, she