Remembrance Day by Leah Fleming Read Free Book Online Page A

Charles?’ Hester asked her husband, pressing her damask linen napkin to her lips, her grey eyes full of concern.
    ‘Of course there will,’ Colonel Cantrell snapped. ‘Why do you think I’m setting up a Rifle Association in our bottom field for the local men to sharpen up their musketry and drills? Got to get ’em up to scratch, and the Territorials too. It’s been coming for years. The Kaiser and his henchmen do nothing but boast about their navy. One of these days he’ll want to pit it against us British, Lord Kitchener was reminding us only the other day,’ he replied, wiping his waxed moustache.
    ‘But what about the twins?’ she countered. Her sons were now past their sixteenth birthday.
    ‘Just the sort of trustworthy leaders of men the army will want. Officer cadet training is first class for stiffening the backbone.’
    ‘But you heard what those doctors said about Angus. He’s had two fits in the past few months. That blessed jump from the Foss is to blame, I’m sure.’
    ‘He looks A1 to me; nothing a bit of drilling won’t cure. Guy keeps an eye on him. They’ll both make excellent officers.’
    ‘But they’re hardly out of short trousers.’
    ‘Don’t fuss, woman. Boys grow up fast these days, and when the time comes they’ll want to do their duty for King and Country.’
    ‘Not at sixteen, they won’t…You mustn’t let them do anything stupid, Charles,’ she pleaded, stabbing the air with her cake fork.
    ‘Huh! If every woman took your attitude, why bother with an army? We could just invite Kaiser Bill over the Channel to occupy us. Pass the cheeseboard and stop wittering.You’ll make a baby of Angus with all those hospital appointments and rest cures.’
    ‘Now who’s being unrealistic? Who’ll have rest cures if there’s a war on? I think he should be tutored privately for the meantime, away from all that activity they go in for at Sharland School.’
    ‘And I think you should go back to your tapestry and get things in proportion. I don’t want my son raised as a spineless sissy. He’s been bred to be tough and a skilled marksman.’ Charles rose, grabbing the port decanter and heading for his library without a backward glance. Hester sighed and rang the bell for Shorrocks to clear away the debris of their supper.
    There was no talking to Charles when he was in one of his belligerent moods, his eyes bright with too much Christmas fare and wine. Better to let him doze off his bad temper alone. When the boys came in from their party, he’d be back to his old self. His eyes lit up with pride when he saw them together.
    Poor man had journeyed north for a break from war talk and planning; all he wanted was his paper, a good book and plenty to smoke and drink. He’d taken the boys outfor long hikes. A house full of men could be lonely for a mother at times, however much they gave her loving presents and praise. Sometimes she sensed he was relieved she was out of his hair in London, glad she was up north so he could keep his own hours in peace.
    She had bred him sons, however late in life, ensuring the family name into the next generation. Her duty was done. He slept in the dressing room in the single bed most nights—his snoring would upset her, he apologised—hardly bothering her with any physical affection. She guessed he was getting that elsewhere. He hadn’t meant to hurt her but his indifference and short fuse stung just the same.
    They had had the usual Christmas ceremonies: church at midnight, a delightful Christmas tree in the hall, a long walk after an enormous luncheon, lots of visitors bringing gifts and gossip. The house was trimmed discreetly with holly and ivy, berried garlands up the spiral staircase. There was even a dusting of snow like a Christmas card scene on Christmas morning. The vicar had complained over mulled wine about the chapel rowdies waking them at dawn.
    ‘I can’t bear religious enthusiasts,’ Charles sympathised. ‘But I suppose we ought