The Caxley Chronicles (34 page)

But there was still the knowledge that the war was not completely finished, and Joan listened with her family to the voice of Churchill giving the nation grave thoughts in the midst of rejoicing.

'I wish,' he said, 'I could tell you tonight that all our toils and troubles were over. But, on the contrary, I must warn you that there is still a lot to do, and that you must be prepared for further efforts of mind and body.' He went on to point out that 'beyond all lurks Japan, harassed and failing, but still a people of a hundred millions, for whose warriors death has few terrors.'

He was listened to with attention; but the moment was too happy to darken with sober warnings. For most of his hearers one splendid fact dazzled them. Victory in Europe was accomplished. Victory in the rest of the world must follow soon. And then, after six bloody years, they would have peace at last.

In the months that followed, old Mrs North spoke joyfully of returning to Rose Lodge. Winnie had her doubts about the wisdom of this step. Now that there were only the two of them to consider, the house seemed over-large, and they must face the problem of little or no help in running it. Mrs North refused to be persuaded.

'I absolutely set my face against finding another place,' she declared flatly. 'Rose Lodge is my home, bought for me by
your dear father. The nurses are moving out in a month or two. There's no reason at all why we shouldn't get out the old furniture from store and move in right away. Besides, Edward will want this flat again the minute he's demobbed. We must leave everything ready for him.'

Winnie was wise enough to drop the subject for the time being, but returned to the attack whenever she had a chance. It was no use. The old lady was unshakeable in her determination.

'Go back,' Bertie advised his sister. 'Dash it all, she's getting on for eighty! She may well as enjoy her own for the rest of her time. Rose Lodge was all she ever wanted when she lived in the market place, and she's had to do without it for years.'

'I suppose we must,' sighed Winnie. 'But I shall shut off some of the rooms. It's a house that eats fuel, as you know, and I really don't think I can cope with the cleaning single-handed.'

'We're all getting old,' agreed Bertie cheerfully. 'But I bet mamma will be in and out of the locked rooms smartly enough with a duster.'

Soon after this Edward had a few days' leave, and within twenty-four hours was thanking his stars that his stay would be a short one. If anyone had ever told him that Caxley would pall, he would have denied it stoutly. But it was so.

He knew that he was under strain. He knew that Angela's desertion was a greater shock than he cared to admit. He was torn with remorse, with guilt, with what he might have left undone. He had thrown himself, with even more concentration, into his flying duties and now lived on the station, hoping, in part, to forget his trouble. All this added to the tension.

Perhaps he had relied too much on the healing powers of his native town. Perhaps, after all, he had outgrown the childhood
instinct to return home when hurt. Perhaps the people of Caxley, his own family included, were as spent as he was after six years of lean times and anxiety. Whatever the causes, the results for Edward were plain. He could not return to Caxley to live, as things were.

His womenfolk said very little to him, but there was a false brightness in their tones when they did, and a sad brooding look of inner pain when they watched him. Edward found both unendurable. Bertie was the only person he could talk to, and to him he unburdened his heart.

'I just can't face it,' he said savagely, kicking the gravel on Bertie's garden path. 'Anyone'd think I was suddenly an idiot. They talk to me as though I'm a child who is ill. And then I snap at them, and feel an utter heel. God, what's going to be the end of it?'

'It's the hardest thing in the world,' observed Bertie, 'to accept pity gracefully. It's easy enough to give it.'

'It isn't only pity,' retorted Edward. 'There were two old cats whispering behind their hands in the restaurant, and I've had one or two pretty unpleasant remarks chucked at me. The top and bottom of it is that Caxley's little and mean, and I never saw it before. I feel stifled here—as though everyone has known and watched the Howards for generations. We're simply actors to them—people to look at, people to feed their own cheap desire for a bit of drama.'

'If you haven't realised that until now,' said Bertie calmly, 'you're a good deal more naive than I thought. We all have to take our turn at being a nine days' wonder. It's yours now, and damned unpleasant too—but you'll be forgotten by next week when someone else crops up for the place in the limelight.'

'You're right,' agreed Edward bitterly. 'But it makes a difference to me for good, even if other people forget in a day or two. In any case I shall get a job elsewhere for a year or two, and then see how I feel about Caxley. What is there to bring me back?'

'Nothing,' said Bertie. 'Except us. I'm not trying to wring your withers and all that—but when this has blown over, I hope you'll want to come back to the family again.'

'Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. All I need now is to thrash about a bit and see other places and find a useful job. One thing, I'm alone now, and I'll take good care I stay that way. I've had enough of women's ways to last me a lifetime.'

Bertie observed his nephew's devastating, if sulky, good looks with a quizzical eye, but forbore to comment on his last remark.

'There's a chap in the mess at the moment,' continued Edward, 'whose father runs a factory for making plastic things—a sort of progression from perspex and that type of thing. He says there should be a great future in plastic materials. Might even make them strong enough for use in buildings and ships and so on.'

'Would you want to go in for that sort of thing?'

'I'm interested,' nodded Edward. 'Jim took me to meet the old boy a few weeks ago. I liked him. He's got ideas and he works hard. I know he wants to build up the works as soon as he can. If he offered me a job, I think I'd take it.'

'Where would it be?'

'Near Ruislip. I'd rather like to be near London, too.'

'It sounds a good idea,' agreed Bertie, glad to see that his companion could still be kindled into life. 'I hope it comes off.'

They wandered through the garden gate to the tow path. The Cax reflected the blue and white sky above it. In the distance a fisherman sat immobile upon the opposite bank. Edward looked upon the tranquil scene with dislike, and skimmed a pebble viciously across the surface of the water towards the town.

'And at least I'd get away from here,' was his final comment.

The Cax flowed on placidly. It had seen centuries of men's tantrums. One more made very little difference.

That evening the occupants of the flat above Howard's Restaurant descended for their dinner. They did this occasionally when the restaurant was shut, and Robert was agreeable. He waited on them himself and joined the family party at coffee afterwards.

Sep came across and Bertie too was present. It was a cheerful gathering. Although the curtains were drawn across the windows looking on to the market place, those at the back of the building remained pulled back, and the sky still glowed with the remains of a fine July sunset. The little white tables and chairs, set out upon the grassy lawn sloping down gently to the Cax, glimmered in the twilight. It was comfortably familiar to Edward, and even his frayed nerves were soothed by the view which had remained the same now for years.

It was Joan who brought up the subject of Edward's return to the flat.

'How soon, do you think,' she asked, 'before you can come home again?'

Better now than later, decided Edward.

'I don't think that I shall come back to Caxley for a while,' he answered deliberately.

'Why ever not?' exclaimed old Mrs North. 'It's your home, isn't it?'

Edward drew a crescent very carefully on the white tablecloth with the edge of a spoon, and was silent.

'Edward's quite old enough to do as he pleases, mamma,' said Bertie quietly.

'I hope you will come back, dear boy,' said Sep, putting a frail old hand on his grandson's sleeve.

'One day, perhaps,' said Edward, putting his own hand upon his grandfather's. 'But I want to have a spell elsewhere. You understand?'

'I understand,' said the old man gravely. 'You know what is best for you.'

'There's no need to feel that you are pushing us out,' began his mother, not quite understanding the situation. 'You know that we shall go back to Rose Lodge very soon.'

'Yes, dear, I do know that,' replied Edward, as patiently as he could. He drew a circle round the crescent, turning the whole into a plump face with a large mouth. He became conscious of Robert's eyes fixed upon him, and put down the spoon hastily, like a child caught out in some misdemeanour. But it was not the mutilation of the white starched surface which gave Robert that intent look, as Edward was soon to discover.

It was now almost dark and Sep rose to go, pleading a slight headache.

'I shall see you again before you leave,' he said to Edward, turning at the door. Edward watched him cross the market
square, his heart full of affection for the small figure treading its familiar way homeward.

The ladies too had decided to retire. Goodnights were said, and Bertie, Edward and Robert were alone at the table. Robert carefully refilled the three coffee cups. His face was thoughtful.

'Have you any idea,' he asked 'when you'll come back to Caxley?'

'None,' said Edward shortly. 'At the moment I feel as though I want to turn my back on it for good.'

A sudden glint came into Robert's eyes. It was not unnoticed by the watchful Bertie.

'In that case,' said Robert swiftly, 'you won't want the rooms upstairs. Would you think of letting me have them? I would give you a good price to buy the whole of this property outright.'

Edward looked at Robert in astonishment. His Uncle Bertie's face had grown pink with concern.

'Thanks for the offer,' said Edward shortly, 'but I wouldn't do anything to upset Grandpa Howard. And in any case, I don't intend to part with the property.'

'You've no business to make such a suggestion,' exclaimed Bertie. His blue eyes flashed with unaccustomed fire. Edward had never seen his uncle so angry, and a very intimidating sight he found it.

'If he doesn't want it, why hang on to it?' demanded Robert. A little nerve twitched at the corner of his mouth, and he glared across the table at his brother-in-law.

'He may want it one day,' pointed out Bertie, 'as well you know. It is unfair to take advantage of the boy at a time like this. More than unfair—it's outrageous!'

'He's being nothing more nor less than a dog in the manger,'
retorted Robert heatedly. 'He doesn't want it, but he'll dam' well see I don't have it! Why on earth the old man ever made such a barmy arrangement I shall never know! I'm his son, aren't I? How does he expect me to run this place with no storage rooms above it? The old fool gets nearer his dotage daily—and others profit by it!'

Edward, who had grown tired of listening to the two men arguing his affairs as though he were not present, felt that he could stand no more.

'Oh, shut up, both of you,' he cried. 'We'll keep Grandpa out of this, if you don't mind. And forget the whole thing. You can take it from me, Robert, the house remains mine as he intended, whether I live here or not, and you must like it or lump it.'

He rose from the table, looking suddenly intensely weary.

'I'm off to bed. See you in the morning. Goodnight!'

'I'm off too,' said Bertie grimly. He limped towards the door of the restaurant as Edward began to mount the stairs to his own apartment.

He heard the door crash behind his uncle, and then two sounds, like pistol shots, as Robert viciously slammed the bolts home.

The sooner I get out of this, the better, determined Edward, taking the last flight of stairs two at a time.

The next morning he made his round of farewells cheerfully. Robert seemed to have forgotten the previous evening's unpleasantness and wished him well. Sep's handshake was as loving as ever. He called last of all on Bertie.

'I'm sorry I lost my temper last night,' Bertie greeted him.
'I hate to say this, Edward, but you must be wary of Robert. He's a man with a grievance, and to my mind he gets odder as the years go by.'

'I'll watch out,' smiled Edward, making light of it.

'He's let this separation of the house and the restaurant become an obsession,' continued Bertie, 'and he's decidedly unbalanced when the subject crops up. Hang on to your own, my boy. It would break Sep's heart if he thought you'd broken with Caxley for good.'

'I know that,' said Edward quietly.

They parted amicably, glad to know each other's feelings, and Edward made his way up Caxley High Street noticing the placards on the buildings and in shop windows exhorting the good people of Caxley to support rival candidates in the coming election. Not that there would be much of a fight in this secure Conservative seat, thought Edward. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. And so, he felt sure, was the return of the Conservative party to power. The hero of the hour was Winston Churchill. It was unthinkable that he should not lead the nation in peacetime, and as bravely as he had in these last five years of grim warfare.

He was right about Caxley's decision. The Conservative candidate was returned, but by a majority so small that his supporters were considerably shaken. When at last the nation's wishes were made known, and the Socialists were returned with a large majority, Edward was flabbergasted and disgusted, and said so in the mess.

Back in Caxley old Mrs North summed up the feelings of many of her compatriots, as she studied the newspaper on the morning of July 27.

'To think that dear Mr Churchill has got to go after all he's done for the nation! The ungrateful lot! I'm thoroughly ashamed of them. The poor man will take this very hard, and you can't wonder at it, can you? I shall sit straight down, Winnie dear, and write to him.'

And, with back straight as a ramrod and blue eyes afire, she did.