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Authors: Mary Wood

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‘My dear, it wasn’t Jimmy’s decision. I mean, not a decision that he would take in his right mind. He was traumatized. He’d suffered a breakdown. In that state anyone
would contemplate, and maybe even carry out, suicide. But that doesn’t make him a coward. It just makes him a sick boy who needed medical help. Albert went to stop him and lifted him, but the
gun went off. Albert hadn’t thought Jimmy meant to do it, so didn’t think the gun was ready to fire. He was mortified and did all he could to persuade the court martial,
but—’

‘Oh God. Oh God!’

‘I’m so sorry, Ada. I shouldn’t have come, but I wanted you to know that Jimmy wasn’t a coward. I – I thought it might help.’

‘Me Jimmy! NAW . . . Naw!’

Getting up, Edith went over to the distraught Ada, who was rocking backwards and forwards. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her own tears choked her. Kneeling beside the doubled-over woman, Edith
put her arms around her, trying to hold her, but Ada was like a stiff board, rejecting any such comfort.
Oh God, why did I think it would help her to tell her? Why?

Unable to stem her own sobbing, Edith knelt close by and cried with Ada, keeping her arm round the back of her. Gradually Ada’s wailing stopped and she asked in a steady voice, ‘Was
me Jimmy afraid?’

It was time for some lies. The truth hurt too much. She couldn’t tell Ada how her son screamed in fear, when told that he was to be taken away and tried for cowardice. ‘I don’t
think he really realized what was going on. He was very calm when they came to question him. I stayed with him. I am sure he didn’t know what they were saying.’

‘Did Albert tell you what he was like when . . . Oh God!’

More lies. ‘Yes. He said he stood straight and was quiet. Albert said he’d never seen a braver lad. Albert was distraught, as he thought he could save Jimmy. He did try. He did all
he could.’

‘I know.’ Ada’s body had calmed. Some of the stiffness went from her. ‘I can never have him back. But to know he wasn’t a coward, and yet was shot by his own side
as if he was, hurts so much. A sick boy! What were they thinking?’

‘It’s a tragedy. So many sick boys shot. They know about shell shock, but still they pardon very few. I will write a report and ask for it to be put on Jimmy’s file. I will
also ask my uncle to bring this question up in the House of Lords. He is on so many committees. We need to get Jimmy pardoned.’

‘Them things don’t happen for the likes of us. Look at my Joe: in prison for sommat as was self-defence. I know it were me husband that died that day, but it was still self-defence.
None of your fancy lawyers could save him.’

Edith didn’t know what to say. The whole experience had opened up a wound in her. She fought hard for control over her feelings. But Ada’s next words showed she wasn’t winning
that particular battle.

‘Eeh, don’t take on, lass. I – I mean, Miss Edith. None of this is your fault. I shouldn’t have upset you like that. Me grief is the grief of a mother, and that cuts
deep. Deeper than you can understand at the moment.’

‘I do understand. Oh, Ada, I do.’ Nothing could rein back the emotion that compelled her to unburden herself. ‘I have twin girls. I left them hidden in France. Oh, Ada, the
pain of not being with them, and of living a lie . . . Oh God!’

Ada got up out of her seat and then knelt beside Edith. ‘Eeh, poor lass, come on. Let’s get you to a chair, and then you can tell me all about it.’

Somehow Ada took on the role of comforter, even though she was in dire need of comfort herself. Allowing Ada to help her to her chair, Edith sat down. ‘Promise me you will never tell
anyone – not even Annie, or Rene, who I know you are close to. And, please, never breathe a word in front of Lady Eloise.’

‘I won’t. But you sound as though you have a burden too big for you to carry alone. Tell me all about it.’

Once she’d finished telling Ada her story, Ada was silent for a moment. Her hand rubbed up and down Edith’s back. ‘I’ll help thee, lass. I’ll do owt in me power.
I’ll look after them for thee. I can think up some story or other. I don’t know what: sommat along the lines of them being related to me. . . That’s it! When were they
born?’

‘March the nineteenth.’

‘Would it be possible to pass them off as five months old?’

‘I don’t know – I wouldn’t think so. They were born six weeks early and were very tiny. Why? What are you thinking?’

‘I could pass them off as Jimmy’s. He went in January, last year, but had a few days’ leave in March when his training was completed. So any child he fathered then would be
five months old by now. No one knows me here, so they wouldn’t have a clue me story weren’t true. I could say as me son’s girlfriend had contacted me and said she couldn’t
cope, and that she was giving the twins up for adoption, so I took them on.’

‘But if no one knows you, what will it matter, as you can put them at their right age? Oh, Ada, would you? Would you do that for me and my girls? But how would you cope? You already have
your little nephew.’

‘I’ll find a way. Besides, I’ll have your help. You will visit and—’

‘Wait a minute . . . Look, yours is an excellent plan, but will put a lot of strain on you, and I can’t see how I could feature in the girls’ lives in the way I would want to,
without raising suspicion. But there is a way. I have been thinking for some time about starting a place for girls in my situation. I think there will be many, because war makes people act
differently from how they would normally. The place I have in mind will be a place of love, and its aim will be to help unmarried girls keep their child, if they want to. The children will be
looked after, and mothers can visit and will be helped eventually to be in a position to make a home for their child. Of course there will be adoption help, for those who can’t have their
child with them, for whatever reason. How does that sound to you? Do you think – with me overseeing it all – you could run such a place for me?’

‘It sounds grand, and I’d like to give it a go, but what would it mean? What would I have to do? How will it help you and your girls?’

‘I met someone. And I have written to him. I have told him everything. I am hoping with all my heart that he will still love me, despite everything that has happened, and will ask me to
marry him. Then I’m hoping he will agree to adopt the girls. I could bring them back here, and we can take care of them in the home we will start, until – if Laurent is willing –
the time comes when they can come to live with me as my own. Oh, that would be wonderful.’

‘It would. But eeh, Miss Edith, there’s such a lot as could go wrong. What then?’

‘I will still have them near me. In the home. And I can see to their welfare and their future. I have to do this, Ada. Putting them in your charge, in the way you describe, would leave me
knowing they are well, but that is all. I could never adopt them, or even visit them, for what excuse could I use?’

‘Reet. Your plan it is then. It will mean me giving up my own plans, but I don’t care about that. It was daunting me anyroad. But me talent needn’t be wasted. I can teach the
girls we have in the home how to sew. That would be sommat for them in the future. We could have a sewing room, where we make things for them; and as the children grow, they can learn how to do it
for themselves. We could take older children in – those that have been orphaned.’

Edith felt lightened by Ada’s enthusiasm. It fuelled her own, to the point where she decided that she would speak to her father about her plans as soon as she could. Tonight even. Yes. He
had said he would be dining with her tonight, and there was only the two of them. She would put it to him that it was this, or going back to France. She knew which option he would choose for her.
Plus her training would not go unused. She would work on a part-time basis at the hospital, when they needed a surgeon with her skills, and would be the chief medical officer for the children and
mothers in the home. She was sure now that this home could be established.

Despite Ada’s sorrow, she too laughed. ‘Eeh, I feel as though me future is sorted, because I was worried about starting a business up. I don’t knaw much about business, but I
do know about young ’uns and what they need, and I have that knowledge in abundance to use.’

‘Thank you, Ada. I’m so glad I came. We have shared things today that will bond us in friendship, despite our different backgrounds. Ada, what do you think about calling the home
“Jimmy’s Hope House”?’

Ada gasped. ‘By, that would be grand. It would be like giving him his honour back. Ta, Miss Edith. You don’t knaw what you’ve done for me today.’

‘Nor you, for me. Just to unburden myself is healing me a little. If it hadn’t been for Jimmy and the love Albert had for him, the twins wouldn’t exist, so it is a fitting
name.’

Aye. Though I’ll never breathe a word as to where Albert really is, I’ll allus pray as he has found Jimmy and that they’re mates, wherever they are.’

‘I am sure they are, Ada. And thank you for your promise. I hope I haven’t burdened you by telling you the truth. But it really must never get out. I have sworn that Albert left me
and went on his way.’

It was with a much lighter heart that Edith left Ada than when she came to meet her. It wasn’t just that there seemed, at last, to be a solution to how she could be with her twins. But, in
Ada, Edith felt she had found a true and lasting friend.

23
Edith

London and France, July 1917
A journey of hope, eternal despair

Anxiety dogged Edith. It came out in her irritation. ‘Oh, just pack what you think, but remember, it will be very hot in Nice!’

Denise, who had been her mother’s maid, had flapped around, asking this and that question until it had driven Edith to distraction. Never one to have a maid, thinking it an unnecessary
luxury when she could very well do things for herself, Edith had felt compelled to keep Denise employed. Mother would have expected that of her. Father had paid the woman a retainer until her
future could be decided, or in the hope that she would find other employment, but the latter hadn’t happened, and now Edith felt stuck with her.

‘Sorry, Miss Edith. I am just unused to what you need. I knew exactly what your—’

‘Yes, yes. All right. Look, I’m the one to apologize. Forgive me. I’m being most rude. I trust your judgement, Denise. You have packed many times for Mother’s visits to
Nice and have got it just right. I will leave it to you.’

Bobbing a curtsey, Denise left the room.

Thank goodness, now I can concentrate. I must write to Laurent. Why haven’t I had a reply to my last letter? Is he safe? Did he feel disgust at my story? Did I do the right thing in
telling him the truth about my babies’?
She was full of questions and uncertainty.

Taking her pen and ink, she began to write:

Dear Laurent,

I hope this, my second letter, finds you safe. I will not say I am well, for how can anyone be well in the circumstances in which we find ourselves? And I have worried about you ever
since I heard the news about the failed Nivelle offensive, in the Second Battle of Aisne. I have wondered if you were part of that. However, I continue to hold hope in my heart. I believe I
would know if anything had happened to you.

It seems strange that such a short encounter between us could bind me to you as it has done. I pray that telling you the truth about my circumstances has not meant that you no longer
wish to know me.

In my other life, I would not have been writing this letter, or have a memory of a kiss that changed me forever. But these are not normal times, and we must allow our hearts to lead us.
I hope yours leads you to me . . .

Continuing to tell him of her plans, and giving him Marianne’s address, Edith finished the letter with the endearment:

My darling . . . Can I call you that? I know I am being most forward in doing so, but that is what you are to me. I am forever yours, Edith x

She blotted the page with her roller ink-blotter. A silly notion came to her. She would sprinkle the letter with her perfume. Laurent had no idea what her normal scent was. The day she met him,
she must have had the smell of sweat and even vomit on her. A shudder went through her, as her intended journey that day came back to her. But then she allowed thoughts of Laurent to take her
senses, as the memory of him holding her and the touch of his lips on hers came to her.
Oh God! Please let him be safe!

In the six weeks since her conversation with Ada she’d made a great deal of progress in setting up her charity. She’d established an account in the name of
‘Jimmy’s Hope House’ and had made Eloise a trustee, along with Jay. She knew she could trust them to oversee the setting up of the home. Jay had even donated enough money for her
to purchase a building, a disused warehouse in Hancock Street, Kensington.

Plans had been drawn up for its conversion and subject to their permission being granted – which was just a matter of rubber-stamping them as her uncle had used their standing to push them
through – the purchase would be completed. Builders had already been engaged – again, Lord Mellor had seen to this – and were ready to move once the plans were approved.

In the meantime Eloise, despite being busy with her own charity, was finding time to work on engaging some old-school nannies to care for the children who would be housed in the home. And Jay
had taken on the task of finding the right furniture and was doing a sterling job, choosing from catalogues and then showing his choices to Edith who, so far, had loved every one and had placed
orders for their delivery on a date to be decided. Edith, meanwhile, had set about finding the equipment she would need for the clinic that was to be an integral part of the home.

All that remained was to find the children and young mothers who needed such a facility. She had thought about placing a discreet advertisement saying something along the lines of ‘Are you
alone and expecting a child?’ or ‘Do you have children and can’t cope, through being made a widow?’ That kind of thing. She’d also thought about dropping leaflets into
local doctors’ surgeries, or approaching the local papers about running a story about her home. Somehow she would get it off the ground.

BOOK: All I Have to Give
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