‘They just have to go on,’ Kate said, tears forming. ‘We all do.’
‘I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a brother,’ Clara said. ‘I think about Philip every day. Where he is, what’s happening to him.’
Kate felt her stomach clench. Her face surely betrayed her. There was an awkwardness between them.
‘You are very fond of Philip, aren’t you?’ Clara asked, in a probing tone. ‘It’s like he’s your brother too,’ she added, looking directly at Kate.
Kate faltered. How much should she confide in Clara? She so wanted to tell her the depth of feeling she had for Philip. She didn’t know what to say and, when she found the words, they sounded so inadequate to her own ears.
‘Yes,’ Kate replied, ‘I’m very fond of him.’
‘What about that young man you were seeing? Have you heard any news of him at all?’ Clara asked.
‘Archie? No news recently. I hope that means he’s all right,’ Kate replied, pleased that Clara had changed the subject. She felt the flushing in her cheeks subside and a sense of relief that Clara hadn’t pressed her about her affection for Philip. The two men both occupied her thoughts daily, although perhaps not equally.
‘I must tell you something,’ Clara said. ‘I’ve volunteered for a new project. The Relief Fund needs women to supervise the running of a knitting factory and workrooms over in Woolwich. I’m going to recruit the workers. I need to stay in that area for a while.’
‘Where will you live?’ Kate asked.
‘Oh, the fund has plenty of contacts in that area. I’m staying with friends of the Astor family, Colonel and Mrs Gardener. It will save all the travelling back and forth. Will you miss me?’ Clara said.
‘Of course I will,’ Kate replied.
* * *
Clara had only been gone a week or so when Kate came down to the kitchen, one Saturday morning, to a commotion.
‘What’s the panic?’ Kate asked Ida as she scurried about answering Mrs B’s demands.
‘It’s Mr Philip,’ Ida replied. ‘He’s been badly injured and they’re sending him home from the hospital to recuperate. Mistress says that his room hasn’t been used in so long it must be given a thorough clean and we’re even to take the summer curtains down and put the winter ones up, says they’ll keep the room warmer.’
Kate’s heart plummeted at the words ‘badly injured’.
‘How badly?’ she asked.
‘No one knows ’til he gets here,’ Ida said. ‘Or if they do they’re not telling us anything. It’s a big job, getting the curtains down out of the loft and giving them a good brush down,’ she added.
‘Well, you’d better get on with it then,’ Mrs B said, overhearing Ida’s complaints.
The rest of the day Kate found herself running between the nursery and the kitchen without time to take a breath. Her feelings lurched from excitement to trepidation, expectation to fear. She wanted to see him but she knew they couldn’t be together. They would be under the same roof but separate. By the time the evening came she was ready to collapse with physical and emotional exhaustion.
‘He’s here,’ Ida announced. ‘At least I think it’s him.’
‘What do you mean, you think it’s him. Either it is or it isn’t,’ Mrs B said.
‘Well he looks different. He’s so thin and his face is . . . is . . .’
‘Spit it out, girl, what about his face?’ Mrs B snapped.
‘I’m sure the doctors did their best but . . .’ Ida began.
‘He’s scarred?’ Kate asked.
Ida nodded.
The atmosphere in the house was subdued. What should have been a cause for celebration had turned into the grim reality of the true meaning of this war, the sacrifices that were being made. Kate was desperate to see him, but the family hadasked to be given their meal and their coffee and then not to be disturbed.
Kate hadn’t been called to help in the dining room and had therefore not seen Philip’s injuries for herself but, as she came out of the kitchen late in the evening, she watched him, from a distance, painfully climbing the stairs. She hated to see him in this state but at least he was safe, he was home.
