Some of the more technical details were lost on them and Kate was pleased when the lecture finally stopped and they weredismissed. Mrs B huffed a sigh of relief. She left it until they were outside the door, though, and out of the master’s earshot.
The routines in Vanburgh House remained much the same. Mr and Mrs Winton believed that being occupied was a good thing. Kate and Clara did not see much of each other but, when they did, they avoided talking about Philip and Carnforth and the news from the front. It was better not to think too much about what might be happening to them for that was a recipe for sleepless nights and constant worrying.
One afternoon, Kate heard some news about the progress of the war that interested her far more than Russians and zeppelins. She was helping Mary serve the afternoon tea and Mr Winton was reading aloud to Clara and the mistress about the latest battles.
‘This report from Sir John French mentions Philip’s regiment,’ he announced. ‘The headline reads “Brilliant Fighting”. That’s my boy! The Sussex Regiment took back territory the Germans had control over. Says here there was “Great Gallantry in Two Fierce Battles”, Bethune and Givenchy.’
‘I thought Philip was in Ypres,’ Clara said, pronouncing it “eep”.
‘He was when he wrote his last letter,’ Mr Winton replied, ‘but remember that once a battle has been won they move on. Got to keep the Germans on the run!’
‘I do hope the next letter brings good news. It’s such torture waiting,’ Mrs Winton said.
‘Don’t expect this war to be over anytime soon,’ Mr Winton replied. ‘There’ll be more casualties and no let up until we’ve reclaimed France and stopped the threat to our own country. Quite right too!’
Kate felt the heat of suppressed anger rise up through her neck and into her cheeks. It was all right for wealthy men, such as Mr Winton, to talk about what was right, passing commentfrom the safety of their own homes. What of those who had no choice?
She noticed the deep concern on Mrs Winton’s face and was annoyed at how Mr Winton could be so insensitive. He was talking as if his son was just another number, an anonymous face.
Kate and Mary returned to the kitchen. Kate could barely speak.
‘Master Philip is so brave,’ Mary said.
Kate didn’t reply. The thought of Philip lying injured somewhere, or worse, was too painful. Please God let him come home safe.
Back in the kitchen, they found Mrs B slumped in her favourite chair. They crept around whilst making their own tea, fearful of waking her, for she was a demon if disturbed during her nap. Kate was grateful for the time to calm herself and the sight of Mrs B fast asleep with her mouth open, oblivious to everything, lifted her spirits and made her smile. After a particularly loud intake of breath, she came to.
‘Humph!’ she groaned, looking in the direction of the kitchen table where the two girls were sitting.
‘I was just . . .’ Mrs B began.
‘We know,’ Kate said.
‘. . . closing your eyes for a few moments,’ Kate and Mary chorused, giggling at each other. Even Mrs B couldn’t resist a smile.
‘Oh, you two!’ She grinned. ‘You wait until you’re my age. You’ll be glad of forty winks now and again. Now what’s happened to that butcher’s boy? I need the steak and kidney for tonight’s pie and should have started it by now!’
As if he’d been waiting outside for mention of his name, the door opened and in came Sam with his striped apron and his bundle all wrapped up in paper and tied with string. He plonkedit down on the scrubbed table and said, ‘There y’are, Mrs B. Sorry it’s late but the bike had a puncture and I had to push it most of the way. Thank the Lord you’re my last today!’
‘Don’t put it there,’ Mrs B snapped. ‘I just scrubbed that table. Fetch a dish, Mary. There’ll be blood everywhere.’
‘Not as much blood as is being spilt over there in France, though,’ Sam said. ‘And on top of being shot at there’s a new danger for our boys now — gas!’ Sam was always eager to impart any news that he had received about the war. Sometimes in more detail than Kate actually wanted to hear.
‘Mustard gas. It burns your throat and lungs if it’s inhaled and even if you’re lucky enough to be issued with a gas mask, it soaks into your skin and leaves huge blisters.’
‘That’s enough, Sam,’ Mrs B said. ‘We don’t want to hear anymore.’
Kate felt sickened by what Sam had described. Her thoughts turned immediately to Philip and Archie and her brother. Please God let them not have to suffer such pain.
‘Those poor boys being sent out there to their deaths.’ Mary sighed. ‘As if bullets weren’t bad enough, now they’re being gassed.’
‘There’s huge casualties on both sides,’ Sam continued, ignoring Mrs B’s request.
‘The badly wounded are now being sent back home, too many for the doctors and nurses to deal with out there.’
‘I wish I could do something more to help,’ Mary said.
‘What will they do when there’s no more young men volunteering?’ Kate asked.
