"Well, that was a lovely evening!" declared Ida as she stepped into the bedroom.
Pete sat on the bed, staring straight ahead, undoing his shirt buttons at a rate of knots.
"For everyone except for you, it seems. Oh well, your loss." She moved over to her dressing table and began undressing.
Finishing his unbuttoning, Pete sat still. His wife eyed him through the mirror. "Are you going to tell me about it?" she asked.
Recovering his movement, Pete ripped off his shirt in a tangled flourish, then set to work on the buttons of his trousers.
"Peter! Hello! You're going to rip those open!"
"It's fine, Ida," he said, dropping his trousers and jumping into bed. "Don't you worry about it."
"Well I don't know what you're worried about, but I'm worried about you! We've just had a wonderful night with three of our children, three in-laws and eight grandchildren, and you couldn't enjoy yourself – why not?"
Pete said nothing.
"Because you're worrying about things that don't need worrying about, that's why not! Are any of us dying, is the farm going bankrupt, is one of the children missing? I don't think so, so why worry?"
"If I told you what I discovered tonight, I think you would worry."
"Would I? How do you know?"
"Because I'm a parent too."
"Oh, the kids are all fine, love! They're all married and happy! Isn't that exactly what we always wanted?"
"Happy for how long?"
"Oh, honestly."
"He's a bloody drunk!"
"What?"
"John's a…He's a bloody drunk."
"No he isn't, he didn't drink anything tonight."
"Yeah, because if he had done, he would've fallen off the wagon!"
"Is this your paranoid speculation, or is it -"
"No it is not, I asked him and he admitted it."
Somewhat shocked, Ida nodded. "I see."
"Yeah."
"Well, he's obviously fine now, but it's been a problem for him in the past, has it? Does Anna know about it?"
"Yes, she…oh God…" Pete screwed up his eyes and banged the headboard angrily.
"What?"
"Bastard!"
"Language!"
"This is what killed his first marriage! I'll bet it is!"
"Oh here we go, you're into speculation mode again."
"It is!"
"How do you know?"
"Oh God, it definitely was, because last time I met him he said that that marriage ended ten years earlier, and that was nearly a year ago now, so now it's eleven years, and tonight, he said to me, 'I haven't touched a drop in eleven years'! Oh, Jesus Christ!" He rolled around on the pillow, his eyes scrunched shut.
"Peter. Stop it." Ida grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her. He continued to groan. "Peter. Look at me."
With a last groan, Pete opened his eyes.
"Whatever happened eleven years ago is none of our business."
"Yes it is, because now he's gonna drag Anna along the same path!"
"No he is not. Remember Cyril?"
"Yes, I do remember Cyril, that's exactly the problem!"
"Cyril was a good man."
"He ruined Betty's life!"
"Betty was fine, she started again."
"You couldn't trust him. You could never ever trust him."
"You could love him, though. He was a good man, it wasn't his fault."
"He could never get off it."
"No, he couldn't. But he tried. He didn't mean to hurt anyone."
"Look, I'm not saying that John's a bad man. But if he can't control himself, then -"
"I think he's proven that he can! Eleven years! Cyril never managed that."
"Cyril never managed eleven minutes without it."
"So John is a stronger man than Cyril. Yes?"
"Strong for how long?"
"You can tell he's strong, it's one of the most fundamental things about him! You can see that he's suffered, greatly, and he's got through it. You can see it in his eyes. And eleven years is enough, I think. If he's made it that far, I don't think he's going back. Would you want to regress by eleven years?"
"They can't control it, that's the point."
"I think he can. To get this far, he can. And look at the way he looks at Anna, he's obviously blissfully happy with her! And what reason does a blissfully happy man have to drink, hmm?"
...
John and Anna slid into the hard bed in the disused guest room at the back of her parents' house. It was uncomfortable, but at least it was a double bed. Anna hadn't been sure they would be given that.
Shifting herself into as comfortable a position as she could manage, she turned to face John. He had been quiet all evening, and, much as he tried to hide his anxiety, to Anna it was still plain to see.
He smiled at her, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"I wish you'd tell me what he said to you."
"It doesn't matter."
"Yes, it does."
"No, he…he's just worried, that's all."
"What about?"
John sighed. "He found out the reason I don't drink."
"Oh, is that all?"
"Is that all? That is very, very worrying for him."
"Then he's worrying for no reason! I'll talk to him in the morning."
"No, don't. Please don't."
"Why not?"
"Because the whole reason he is doing this is to take care of you. To make sure that you're alright, and that you're loved and happy. So if you get angry and upset, that completely takes the point out of it."
"Well, my getting upset is not avoidable if he's going to have so little faith in you. Doesn't it make you angry?"
"No."
"No?"
"He's just doing his job as your father. He's a very good father, I'm really impressed that…" John sighed. "A lot of fathers wouldn't."
"So you're saying that I should be grateful?"
"I am. I'm grateful every day that your family treats you well."
"Yes, and they should treat you well too!"
"He doesn't even know me. Maybe when he does, he'll think differently, but for now, all he is doing is looking out for you, and there is nothing wrong with that.
Anna rolled onto her back, and sighed. "I suppose so."
"There's no 'suppose' about it, I…the last time I saw him, when I was in prison. He seemed to listen to me, but then he just got up and left, and at first I felt guilt-stricken and utterly unworthy, that I'd done the wrong thing by him and by you, but then I realised that…" He looked her in the eye. "…I didn't. Sometimes I've got it wrong, but I've always tried to do the best thing by you, and I always will. I know that, and you know that. Your father doesn't , but that's OK. He doesn't know me, so how could he? All wants to do is to make sure that you're properly cared for, and that's wonderful. And it's no less than you deserve."
"Why did you look so worried earlier, then? If you're so stoical about it."
"Because I still have, and I always will have, niggling doubts about myself. But you make them go away." He smiled.
Anna smiled back, and snuggled into his arms. He kissed her hair and stroked it.
"What did you mean before, when you said, 'A lot of fathers wouldn't'? Were you talking about your father?"
"Well, my father didn't care about much, but that's not what I was thinking of."
"What were you thinking of?"
"Well…I probably shouldn't mention this, but Vera…she was the way she was for a reason, you know, she…had a very unhappy childhood."
"Really?"
"Her father abused her, in many ways. Some of them unspeakable. She didn't really speak of it, but I picked it up from various sources. And the funny thing is, when I saw your father in the prison, we had a conversation and then he got up and walked away, and I hung my head, I felt completely awful initially, but then I thought, 'Hang on, this is a new feeling. I've never experienced this…parental disapproval before.' And then I thought, well, of course I haven't, because Vera's father couldn't have cared less about her. But you…God, if anyone did that to you, I would string them up. I'd castrate them with my bare hands. But your father is a good man, and he loves you and he looks out for you, and I am so grateful for that. I'm so grateful."
...
After breakfast, Anna's younger brother Alan arrived with his wife Bonnie. He was a pallid-looking man with a big smile, who shook John's hand enthusiastically. Anna expressed a desire to take John to the river, and Alan, Bonnie, Pete, Elise and most of the children joined them. Pete's eyes were still on John, but he only smiled back. Alec and Alan tried to teach him how to skip stones. He failed.
"You need to bend down further, Uncle John, so the stone can be at the same angle as the water," Alec explained.
John bent down as far as he could, ending up kneeling on the river bank, but the stone still plopped straight to the bottom of the river. "Right, I give up!" he declared. Grounding his cane between two large stones, John pulled himself to his feet with a groan.
"I can't do it as well as I used to either," said Alan with a smile. He'd propped himself up on a tree root, and he pushed himself to his feet with a similar groan.
Eileen arrived with the news that lunch was ready, and the party began to make their way back up the river bank. John and Alan were at the back, and John appreciated that the younger man seemed to be matching his slow pace, but he soon realised that the reason was that Alan himself could not go any faster. Halfway up the riverbank, he began to cough. "Oh bugger," he gasped. He made two more steps, then fell to his knees.
"Are you alright?" asked John, rushing to his side.
"Chlorine gas," Alan spluttered. The coughing stopped, but his breath had become very faint.
"We're nearly at the top of the hill, I'll help you. Try to relax." Hooking his cane over a nearby tree branch, John took hold of it with his right hand, grabbed Alan's shoulder with his left, and pulled. Alan made two fumbling steps. John steadied himself on the hanging cane, and pulled again.
"That thing's strong, eh?" said Alan, before collapsing into another coughing fit.
Pete's panicked face appeared above the river bank. "Alan, are you alright?" He began scrambling towards his son.
Bonnie appeared a second later, holding a bottle of medicine aloft. "I'm sorry, darling, I shouldn't have left you!" she said, as Alan took a swig.
"It's alright," he panted. "I shouldn't have gone down there, but I just -"
"Shh shh, don't talk. Breathe deeply."
Elise, Anna and Eileen had appeared at the top of the riverbank. John waved them away.
"Is he alright?" asked Elise.
"Yes, he's fine," said John firmly. "We'll see you back at the house."
"Best not to stare," said Anna, moving away.
"I'm fine, really," said Alan softly. "There's only a couple of yards to go. If I can just get some air in my lungs…"
"Do you think you'll be alright on flat ground?" asked Pete. "Cos I can bring the horse around."
"No, flat ground's OK," Alan replied. "Just gotta get to it."
"Mr Smith, can you grab his left arm?" asked John. "I've got his right. We can pull him up there."
"Righto, out of the way, Bonnie," said Pete. "Are you ready, son? One, two, three!"
After two or three pulls from Pete and John, Alan fell onto the flat ground at the top of the riverbank, gasping. Pete rolled him onto his side. "There you go, lad, just breathe."
Bonnie knelt beside him, rubbing his back.
"Is this worse than it was, Bon?" asked Pete.
"He has good days and bad days," she replied.
"Should've known today would be a bad day," Alan muttered. "Always is when I wanna do something interesting." Taking one more deep breath, he pushed himself up onto his knees. Hooking their arms under his shoulders again, John and Pete pulled him to his feet, and he began to walk haltingly forward, taking another swig from the medicine bottle.
"Are you sure you don't want the horse?" Pete asked.
"Yep, I'm fine. Sorry about that, everyone!" He looked around the three of them. "We've only just met, mate!" he said to John, patting him on the back. "Thanks for your help."
"No problem."
"Thanks for shooing the others away too. Nothing feels worse than being a spectacle."
...
John enjoyed the roast beef lunch immensely, sitting next to a talkative Alan, with whom he was getting along very well. He could still feel Pete's eyes on him, and he noticed that Ida's had begun to follow him too. After the meal, she and Janet went outside to pick mulberries for dessert, and he decided to join them, mindful that it would soon be time to leave.
"Thankyou so much for your hospitality, ladies," he said, reaching up to pick the berries from the higher branches the women couldn't reach. "I really appreciate it."
"You're very welcome," said Janet. "We've had a lovely time too!"
Ida smiled. "You must come again."
"I'd love to."
"Watch out, you've blood all over your hands now," winked Janet. "The mulberry is the most gruesome of fruits."
"And the beetroot," added Ida.
"Well, that's a vegetable, Mum."
"I know, I know."
"Do you think that's enough?" The bowl was now piled high with purple berries.
"Yes, I think so."
"Right, I'll go and check that Eileen hasn't plastered cream all over the kitchen."
"Wasn't Elise going to whip it?" Ida asked.
"Yes," Janet replied. "But Eileen will try to help her." She hurried back inside.
Suddenly finding himself alone with his mother-in-law, John froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. He managed a small smile, then stepped back towards the house.
"John, I…"
John turned back, his eyebrows raised belligerently. "What is it?"
"Oh, nothing, don't worry."
"You can ask me anything. I won't lie to you."
"Well…Pete told me something last night."
John nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I kept it from you, I just didn't want to worry you. Because it's not a problem, it's not a part of my life any more at all. I didn't want you to worry unnecessarily."
Ida nodded.
"I'm sorry."
"Thankyou. It's alright."
John continued to look at her for a little while, not sure what else to say.
"This is a very personal question, but what caused it, exactly? What drove you to it?"
"Mainly the war."
"Ah, of course." Ida nodded, sadness in her eyes. "Wars ruin everything."
"It's not ruined. I thought my life was ruined at the time, but if I hadn't gone through all that, I wouldn't have met Anna." He smiled.
"Oh, yes. There's always hope."
"Exactly."
"I remembered something about you this morning. I don't know why it took me so long, I think because it's connected to some painful memories that I've tried to forget…but I did really appreciate it at the time. And now."
John's brow furrowed in sympathy, even though he didn't have a clue what she was talking about.
"I lost my boy Mark in the war. Little Mark is named after him."
John nodded. He knew.
"And you were the one who told Anna that he didn't suffer. She told you what we had been told about it, which didn't make a whole lot of sense to us because we were hardly capable of logical thought at the time – I know I wasn't, anyway. But you made sense of it, and you explained to her that he didn't suffer. And she put it all into a letter to me and she said that you were in a war and you knew what soldiers' experiences were like, and that you were…relieved, I think she said, when she told you how he died."
John nodded. "I was."
"And you took the time to explain to her why, and she explained it to me, and I appreciated it so much. I can't tell you how much that helped." Ida placed a gentle hand on John's arm. "Thankyou."
John shrugged, smiling faintly. "I'm glad."
"I wish you could have met him. I think he would have liked you."
Tears pricked the back of John's eyes. She didn't know that, of course she didn't. But he appreciated her saying it all the same. "I wish I could have," he said huskily.
"When I read that letter, I didn't know who you were – well, Anna had mentioned you in previous letters, but only in passing, and I didn't know anything about you and I certainly didn't know that you had designs on my daughter…"
John shifted awkwardly until he saw Ida smile. He relaxed.
"…But I felt very grateful that you had comforted her and that you had taken the time to explain something that she didn't understand. And I know you did it for her and not for me, but I really appreciated it too."
"Gran?" Alec's voice came from the back door. "Uncle John? Are you out here?"
"Yes, we are, love," called Ida, just as the boy came into view around the side of the house.
"Dessert's ready," he announced with a grin.
...
Men, women, children, chickens, dogs and a goat were all gathered in the barnyard to see off Anna, John, Alan and Bonnie. Elise, Paul and their children were going to stay another night. This had been offered to Anna and John, but they wanted to get home. Alan and Bonnie had promised to come back for next week's Sunday roast, as they only lived one stop along the train line.
John shook the hands of each of the men and Alec, and kissed the cheeks of each of the women, saying, "It was so nice to meet you," to most of them and, "Thankyou so much for your hospitality," to Peter, Janet and Ida. Pete Snr was last again, having hung back behind the others. John held out his hand to him.
Glancing toward Anna and Ida to make sure they were occupied with their own goodbyes, Pete took John's hand and leaned towards him. "I'm watching you," he whispered.
John nodded stiffly. "Please do," he said. "Thankyou for having me to stay. Once we have our cottage set up, you are most welcome to visit."
Pete nodded, a steely look in his eyes. "That'd be good."
"Can I take the reins, Mum?" asked Alan.
"I thought you might want to sit on the back, love. It's easier to get up there," said Ida gently.
"I can get up there, can't I, John?"
John was somewhat taken aback to be asked for his sanction, but he nodded. "I'm sure you can."
"Join me?" Alan climbed slowly onto the front seat of the trap, one step at a time.
John followed, also one step at a time.
"Well, so much for ladies first," said Bonnie, climbing onto the tray, which had some wooden boxes arranged around the edges which functioned as bench seats.
"Posh people ride in the back, don't they, Anna?" said Ida.
"They do. Not on traps, though."
"Alright, ladies, I am your chauffeur," announced Alan, as he picked up the reins and clicked to the horse to move off.
John and Alan fell into conversation again, and Anna looked over the fields. For once, she wasn't sad to be leaving, because she was going home with her husband. Looking up at him, she smiled.
"It's good those two are friends," said Ida. "They've something in common."
"Well, there's plenty that have that in common these days," said Bonnie. "There's a man who comes into the shop and goes on and on to Alan about his supposed gammy leg, when there's nothing wrong with him at all – he got a flesh wound, and a shallow one at that. Alan can't stand him."
"So he doesn't have anything in common with him, then," said Anna.
"No, but he acts like he does. The thing with John is he doesn't act like he does. I don't think either of them have even mentioned the war at all."
"They have the same attitude, I think," said Ida. "Grin and bear it."
"No, it's more than that," said Anna, "It's, 'Put up with it and get on with your life.' If you don't act like it's a problem, then others won't either."
"Well, I try not to," said Bonnie. "It's hard, though."
"I know."
Ida looked between them, wondering how they'd come to live in a society where women were fitter than their husbands. "Is Alan alright, Bon?" she asked.
"Yeah," Bonnie replied, with slightly less confidence that then Anna's previous comment made her feel she should. "Don't let him hear you doubt him!"
"You're saying we should all pretend it's not a problem, Anna?"
"It usually works – not always, but usually. If you act like it's not a problem, then it isn't. If you believe in something, more often than not it'll come true. It's all about your attitude."
"Oh, is that why you're so patient, Anna?" came Alan's voice from the front.
"I suppose so."
Alan chuckled. "What were you talking about?"
"How to overcome problems," said Ida knowingly.
"Anna's very good with that," said John.
"Oh good, better keep her then!" Alan winked at his companion.
John grinned.
There was a tearful goodbye at the station, mainly on Ida's part as she emotionally explained to Anna how very very happy she was for her, and how relieved. One thing lead to another until Anna was blubbing too. John put a firm arm around her shoulders. Alan looked on awkwardly. Bonnie smiled.
The four of them took over a small alcove of the train carriage and chatted happily until Alan and Bonnie's stop, and then it was just Anna and John. She leaned into him and slept for the rest of the journey. He gazed out the window with a peaceful look on his face.
Neither of them spoke on the walk from the station to their cottage, but both enjoyed it more than they had ever thought it possible. When they arrived on the doorstep, Anna gave an involuntary giggle. John looked at her in amusement. "Happy?" he chuckled.
"This is our house, Mr Bates," Anna stated proudly.
"Yes it is," he replied, opening the door. "Do come in, would you like a cup of tea?"
"I would!" Anna chuckled all along the hallway.
When they were sitting contentedly with their cups of tea, their hands grasped together across the table, as they had never been able to do when they drank tea together in the servants' hall, Anna became serious. She looked at him solemnly and asked the question that had been playing on her mind ever since they had left the farm.
"How do you think that went?"
John raised his eyebrows. "Going there, you mean? The time there? I thought it went very well."
"You did? Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Very much! It's a beautiful place, and everyone was so nice to me, I couldn't have asked for more!"
"Everyone?"
"Go easy on your dad, Anna. He behaved very reasonably towards me."
"I just wish he'd mind his own business. Everyone else did."
"Everyone else took me as I am, which I was very grateful for. He felt that he needed to do a little more research about me, which is perfectly reasonable, and I intend to help him with it."
"Help him? What do you mean?"
"I mean that I intend to prove myself to him."
Anna gave a half-hearted smile.
"I need to win his trust, that's all. He doesn't give it without good reason. And given what I've put you through in the past, that's fair enough."
Anna rolled her eyes.
"Anyway, why do you ask? Do you think it didn't go well?"
"I think it went fantastically."
"You do?"
"I do. I agree with you, I just wanted to ask you how you felt."
"I feel fine!"
"Good."
"And your mother is the second sweetest person in the world."
"Second sweetest?"
"You're the sweetest."
Anna gave him a look. "You charmer."
"I'm not charming you, I'm telling the truth!"
"Hey…" A thought occurring, Anna looked around the room.
"What is it?"
"There's a perfectly good settee over there."
"Well I don't know about 'perfectly good', but there is a settee, yes."
"We don't have to sit on hard wooden chairs when there's a settee."
"Good point."
"Come on, Mr Bates." Anna walked over to the settee and sat down.
He stayed at the table long enough to pour them each another cup of tea, and then brought them both over, sitting very carefully so they didn't spill.
"The things we can do in our own cottage are boundless, aren't they?" Anna grinned
"They are," John replied, leaning forward to give her a soft, sweet kiss.
