‘I don’t know what to say,’ Albert replied. ‘It’s, it’s a bit . . .’
‘Irregular? Yes, I know but I have every confidence that you two will enjoy one another’s company, otherwise I wouldn’t have suggested it. Will you think about it, Albert?’ Florence replied.
Albert didn’t know what to think. The Misses Taylors did a lot in the village but as far as he knew, matchmaking was not one of their usual tasks. He wasn’t sure how to answer them and wondered just what he was getting himself into, but nodded his agreement which delighted the two women.
He thanked them for the tea and cake, took his cap and bid them good evening. As he wheeled his bike out of the yard, he heard the song of a robin spinning through the evening air. He found himself whistling an answer to its call and then let a sigh of pleasure rest quietly on his lips.
Albert and Kate met many times over the following weeks and months, under the steady but encouraging eye of the Taylor sisters and Albert grew to value Kate’s company and bask in the warmth of her smile. She was very beautiful, he thought, but he really didn’t know her that well. The first time the evenings were warm enough for them to spend more than an hour or so in one another’s company, it was well into April.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
April 1918
Spring had arrived in Micklewell. The lanes were sprinkled with the yellow and green of primroses and the cow parsley forced its long stalks skyward, not yet revealing its white umbrella blooms. The wood anemones carpeted the copses so thickly that there was not a bare stretch of soil to be seen and the pastures hid small pink secrets amongst the grass, the delicate pyramids of wild orchids. The air tingled with the smell of wild garlic. Kate was so happy to be out in her beloved Hampshire countryside and walking with a man who was so kind to her. She really was extremely lucky that Albert wanted to get to know her better. He had been somewhat flustered when he’d asked her to walk out with him, but she was delighted he had finally got around to it.
Kate and Albert walked across the fields that Sunday afternoon to St Swithun’s Church at Nately. Albert helped her over the stiles and, each time he looked at her face, he let his eyes rest upon her until she blushed with his attentions. His hands fitted comfortably on her waist as he helped her jump down and he commented on her delicately patterned floral dress.
‘You seem to grow right out of the meadow, Kate,’ he said.
‘All cornflowers and cotton grass, edged with forget-me-nots,’ Kate laughed.
They walked on, arm in arm, until they came to the church. The sun was losing its warmth but the brightness reflected in the windows threw back a glow that Albert felt deep inside him. They walked around to the main entrance and he paused to look at a strange carving on one of the pillars of the doorway.
‘What’s a mermaid doing here?’ he said. ‘We’re far from the sea.’
‘The legend goes,’ she said, ‘that a sailor from Micklewell met and flirted with a mermaid but would not stay with her despite her pleadings. He returned home, where he met and fell in love with a girl from Nately.’
She took his arm and turned him around to see the long approach to the church from the road. ‘Imagine this, Albert. The wedding day arrives and the joyful procession of the bridal party moves towards the church door. There, sitting outside it, is the mermaid.’
She pulled him forward. ‘Look closely and you’ll see there is a tiny figure on the mermaid’s back. That is the sailor, for she snatched him away from his bride-to-be and plunged with him into the stream. She swam with him into the Lyde and the Loddon and from there into the Thames and out to sea. They were never seen again.’
She pulled away from him and smiled. ‘Now let that be a lesson to you, Albert, this is the fate of the feckless and the unfaithful.’
Albert stared at Kate, his face suddenly serious. ‘I would never abandon you, Kate,’ he said.
‘You might,’ she replied. ‘We can never know what the future holds.’
‘No, never. I will never leave you. Kate . . . will you . . . ?’
Kate placed a finger over his lips.
‘Just listen to me,’ she whispered. ‘Sit down with me here and listen to me and then we’ll see.’
She told him more of her employment in Andover, of moving to London and how she had conceived and given birth to a son. She explained how difficult life was for a young woman away from her family and with no one to call upon to help her in such a time of great need. She described the drudgery of the workhouse and how Ida and Mrs Bowden had helped her escape.
‘When the mistress found out I was pregnant, I was dismissed,’ she said looking down at her hands which plucked the blades of cotton grass. ‘The workhouse was the only refuge for me.’
Albert sat in silence, so much to take in. Kate waited. Eventually he broke the fine thread of connection between them.
‘I knew you had a child,’ Albert said. ‘People talk. But it makes no difference. His father was killed in battle, as so many have been.’
‘That much is true,’ Kate said. ‘But we were never married. He didn’t even know of Ronnie’s birth. Now he will never see him. It’s so hard for me to talk about it . . . I hope you understand, Albert.’
Albert took Kate’s hand. She could see the deep concern in his eyes. This was a man who understood. He had been there and fought beside men like Philip. He was not one for deep conversation but he had a strength about him that she liked. The way he looked at her betrayed his feelings. She could see that he cared about her.
‘Kate, if you’ll let me, I’d like to come and meet Ronnie so that he can begin to know me and be happy in my company.’
Kate kissed him gently on the cheek, her lips revealing all he needed to know.
