Harvest of War (11 page)

‘I'll be frank with you, Lieutenant Devenish,' Featherstone said. ‘Unless something is done soon we shall have the bailiffs in.'

As soon as the meeting was over Tom took the train to London and made his way to his father's club. A steward informed him stiffly that Sir George was not on the premises at present but was expected back that evening. Meanwhile, he suggested, the club secretary would like a word with him.

It was just as Tom expected: a catalogue of complaints about unpaid bar bills and drunken confrontations with other members.

‘To be frank with you, Lieutenant,' the secretary said, ‘unless you can see your way clear to settle the outstanding bill I am afraid we shall have to ask Sir George to leave – and it may even come to a matter of involving the police.'

‘I understand,' Tom said. ‘How much is owing?'

The secretary handed him a bill and Tom reached for his cheque book with a sigh. It was almost exactly the same amount as the general had paid him for his picture.

‘Do you know where my father is at the moment?'

‘He has gone to Newmarket for the races, I believe.'

Tom shook his head in disbelief. He knew, from conversations in the mess, of the crazy conviction of the inveterate gambler that one last lucky bet would solve all his problems, but he found it hard to credit that any sane man could believe it. But then, he was beginning to wonder if his father was sane. He waited in the bar for him to return. Sir George came in just before dinner and from the tone of his voice, heard from the hallway before he entered the bar, and from his face when he appeared, it was plain that no such stroke of luck had come his way and, moreover, that he had been drinking to console himself.

He stared at Tom for a moment as if he did not recognize him and then barked: ‘What the hell are you doing here?'

‘Waiting for you, sir,' Tom replied.

‘Skiving off, eh? Things got a bit too hot for you out there?'

‘No!'

‘Got yourself cashiered, is that it? Conduct unbecoming? Well, it's no good coming to me to bail you out.'

‘No,' Tom said, trying to keep his voice level, ‘that's not why I'm here. I'm on leave, quite legitimately, and I've been made aware that there are things at home that require your attention. I want you to come home with me.'

‘Been made aware, have you?' his father repeated satirically. ‘Aware of what, may I ask?'

‘Certain financial matters.'

‘Financial matters? You insolent puppy! What do you know about my financial matters?'

‘I know,' Tom said, lowering his voice, ‘that if something is not done soon you and mother may be turned out of the house.'

‘Turned out!
Turned out!
How dare you come here and make threats like that to me? I know what it is. You're worried about your inheritance! Well, let me tell you this. You can starve in the gutter for all I care. You and your arty-crafty friends. Don't you come here and tell me how to conduct my life. Now get out, before I take my stick to you!'

His father's face had gone from red to purple and his eyes were bulging, so that Tom found himself wondering if people really did die of apoplexy. His raised voice had drawn disapproving looks and mutters from the other occupants of the bar and at that moment two of the club stewards appeared at his elbows.

‘Now then, sir. Let's calm down, shall we? Or we'll have to ask you to leave.'

‘Calm down! Calm down! Just let me get at him, the cowardly dog! I'll teach him a lesson he won't forget.'

‘Come along, sir. No need for any trouble. The young gentleman didn't mean any harm. Why don't you let us take you up to your room? Time to dress for dinner, isn't it?'

Murmuring similar soothing platitudes the two men manoeuvred Sir George, still muttering threats and curses, out of the room. The club secretary had followed them in and turned to Tom.

‘Sorry about that, Lieutenant. But you see our problem.'

‘I do indeed,' Tom responded shakily. ‘Unfortunately, I have no idea what to do about it.'

‘It's not the first time this sort of thing has happened. I'm afraid if it goes on we shall have no alternative but to ask Sir George to leave. The other members won't tolerate that kind of behaviour.'

‘I understand,' Tom said. ‘You must do as you think fit. I'm afraid if I try to interfere any further it will only make things worse.' Privately, he thought that if his father were to find himself out on the street with nowhere to go but home to Denham it might bring him to his senses.

Out in the street himself he was at a loss where to go next. He had no appetite for dinner, and the prospect of returning to the gloom of Denham Hall was too depressing to contemplate. Then he remembered something he had intended to do while in London, before all his plans fell apart. He hailed a cab and set out for Sussex Gardens.

When Beavis opened the door to him he said, ‘I've come to enquire if you have any news of Miss Malham Brown? I haven't heard from her for months.'

‘Miss Leonora is in the drawing room, sir. Shall I tell her you are here?'

‘Leo, here? That's marvellous! Don't worry, Beavis. I'll announce myself.'

Tom bounded into the drawing room and stopped short at the sight of Leo reclining on a chaise longue, pale-faced and
en déshabillé
.

She started up at his entry and gave a small cry. ‘Tom! Oh, Tom, how wonderful! I'm so glad to see you.'

He crossed to her side and knelt by the chaise. ‘Leo, you're not well. What is it? What has happened? I thought you were in Salonika.'

She sank back against the cushions. ‘Oh, I left there some time ago. So much has happened since. I don't know how to tell you . . .'

‘Tell me what?'

‘Sasha is dead.'

He caught her hand. ‘Oh, my dear. I am so sorry.'

‘That is not all.'

‘What else? Tell me, please!'

He listened in growing anguish as Leo related the events of the past year: the culmination of her love affair with Sasha; her pregnancy; their final encounter; her dash to be at his side when he was wounded; her prolonged labour; the birth of her daughter and how the child had been left in the care of a stranger, and her desperate attempt to return to the village.

‘It was a stupid thing to do. I nearly died and the next thing I knew I was on a ship back to England. And now the village is back in Bulgarian hands and I'm stuck here like a helpless invalid.'

He raised her hand to his cheek. ‘My dear girl! What can I say? I am so sorry for you. I know how much you loved Sasha, and how it hurt you when he had to marry someone else.'

‘But that marriage was never consummated,' she said quickly. ‘He swore that. I had a letter from him, Tom, written just before he was killed. In it he told me that he had repudiated his marriage to Eudoxie and made my child, our child, his heir. But what use is that, when I don't know where she is?'

‘We will find her,' Tom said firmly. ‘When the war is over, we will go back and find the family who took her in and bring her home.'

‘When the war is over . . .' Leo said with a sigh. ‘Is it ever going to end, Tom?'

‘Of course it is. The Germans must be nearly at the end of their resources. And now the Americans are with us, it can't go on much longer. By the end of the summer you may be reunited with your baby.' He hesitated, then went on: ‘But have you thought what it will mean, bringing up a child as an unmarried woman?'

She lifted her chin. ‘What do I care? Do you suppose I shall be the only woman in that position after this terrible carnage?'

‘Of course,' he said. ‘I should have known you better. But bear this in mind: if you want me, I will stand by you. After all, we are still officially engaged.'

She looked at him with a flicker of her old humour. ‘So we are. It seems a very long time ago that we agreed to it, but I suppose that doesn't make any difference in the eyes of other people.' She reached out and touched his arm. ‘Dear Tom. Thank you. If I were going to settle down with anyone, it would have to be you. I'm so glad you're here. You are the only person I can talk to about Sasha. The only one who understands. After all, you knew him at Adrianople, and later in Belgrade, and I think you fell under his spell a little bit yourself. Aren't I right?'

He smiled. ‘Yes, it's true. It was impossible to be indifferent to Sasha Malkovic. “Under his spell”. Yes, I think that's right. He had a kind of magic that drew people to him.'

She put her arms round his neck. ‘You see? You understand. It's such a relief to talk to you.' Then, drawing back a little: ‘But I'm being very selfish. I haven't asked you how you are. You're not wounded. You look surprisingly fit. You're just on routine leave, then?'

‘Not exactly,' he said ruefully. ‘I've got a bit of a tale to tell, too.'

When he finished she looked at him sombrely. ‘Now it's my turn to say I'm sorry. How horrible for you! First losing all your pictures and now this dreadful business with your father.'

‘Well, the pictures aren't such a tragedy,' he said. ‘I thought it was at first, but after all, I can still paint and I have my original sketch books. Maybe one day I'll paint a new set of pictures, not the same but drawing on the same material. It's just a pity that I've missed the chance of a major showing in a reputable gallery.'

‘It will come again,' Leo said firmly. ‘Talent like yours has to be recognized eventually. But what are you going to do about your father . . .'

Beavis came in. ‘Excuse me, madam. Cook wants to know whether you feel you can eat a little dinner.'

Leo looked at Tom. ‘Have you eaten, Tom?'

‘No, I haven't, as it happens.'

‘I've had no appetite, but tonight I think I could eat something. Ask cook if she can manage dinner for two, Beavis.'

He smiled gravely and Tom saw relief in his face. ‘I'm sure she can, madam.'

‘And make up a room for Lieutenant Devenish, please. You will stay the night, Tom?'

‘To the scandal of the neighbourhood?' he queried, with a grin.

‘Who cares? After all, as you reminded me, we are officially engaged.'

At breakfast the next day Tom was pleased to see Leo fully dressed and with a little more colour in her cheeks. As he passed him in the hall, Beavis murmured, ‘If I may say so, sir, it's a great comfort to Cook and myself to see you here. Miss Leonora has been so down, so unlike herself, that we've been very worried. Nothing seemed to cheer her. But your arrival has really perked her up.'

As they ate Tom asked, ‘Are you all on your own, Leo? Aren't there any friends who could keep you company?'

‘Oh, yes,' she replied. ‘Victoria is in London. Poor girl! She's had a bad time, too. Her lorry overturned and left her trapped under it in a ditch full of freezing water. She's had a broken leg and double pneumonia. She's getting over it, but it's been a long haul and she's been pretty fed up. We've been sharing our misery!'

‘Well, perhaps you can start to share your recovery now,' Tom suggested.

Leo gave him a bleak look. ‘Easier said than done, old chap. But don't you worry about me. You've got your own problems to sort out. Are you going home today?'

‘I must. I'd much rather stay here with you, but something has to be done about Denham. Though God knows what!'

When Tom descended from the trap outside his front door an hour or two later it was immediately flung open by Lowndes, grey-faced and wild-haired.

‘Oh, Mr Tom! Thank God you're here! Terrible news! Terrible!'

‘What? What's happened? Pull yourself together, man. What's wrong?'

‘It's Sir George, sir . . . your father. He's dead.'

‘Dead? How? When?'

‘A policeman called an hour ago, sir. He's in the morning room, with Mr Standing. I sent word to Mr Standing, sir, in your absence. I didn't know what else to do. Her Ladyship has shut herself in her room and refuses to speak to anyone.'

Tom strode past the butler and into the morning room. Standing and a man in the uniform of a police inspector rose to their feet as he entered.

‘What's going on?' Tom demanded. ‘What has happened?'

‘It's your father, sir,' the inspector said. ‘The servants at his club found him in his room this morning. He had put the barrel of his revolver into his mouth and pulled the trigger.'

Leo threw the newspaper aside and wandered restlessly to the window. Outside the leaves on the trees drooped, parched and dusty in the heat of June. She turned as the door of the room opened and Beavis announced: ‘Miss Langford, ma'am.'

Victoria entered, leaning on a walking stick. ‘Phew!' she said, pulling off her hat. ‘It's scorching out. What have you been doing with yourself?'

‘Not much,' Leo answered morosely.

‘What is it?' Victoria asked. She propped the stick against a chair and limped over to Leo. ‘You look a bit down. Has something happened?'

‘Have you seen the papers today?'

‘Only to glance at. Why?'

‘General Serrail's forces have called off their attempt to break out of the Salonika salient.' Leo shook her head wearily. ‘When we read that there was a new campaign I felt sure that this time they would succeed and before long they would be marching into Serbia. But now it seems we're back where we started.'

‘But Bitola is still holding out?'

‘By the skin of their teeth, yes. But that doesn't help. Lavci is still in Bulgarian hands.' She put both hands to her temples. ‘I can't bear it, Vita! I'm going mad here, thinking about my baby in the middle of all that destruction.'

‘It may not be as bad as you imagine,' Victoria said. ‘After all, if the Bulgars are in control they won't be shelling the village and if our people have called off the attack they won't, either.'