***Chapter 15***

***The Lightning Tree***

(Part Two)

Fortunately, the fire caused by the lightning strike was put out before it had had time to take firm hold and the damage confined to the area around the unused stable block. The storm had long since ceased and a refreshing breeze crept into the air by the time Jimmy prepared to cycle home to Loppington. Although it was past midnight and he could have "dossed down" in the servants' quarters, as Davey and a couple of other men kept late by the extra work the storm caused had decided to do, he always liked to get home to his wife and children. It had been a long, tiring day and he would be glad to see the back of it. He turned to say goodnight to Hargreaves as he pulled open the heavy gates that guarded Follyfoot.

The moon chose that very moment to slither out from behind a cloud, capturing in its foggy light the smoke-streaked stables and silhouetting the tree struck by the wild fork of lightning.

It seemed to signify all that had been lost in the Great War and all that would be lost in another. Tears sprang suddenly to Jimmy's eyes and he was glad of the half darkness to hide them. Hargreaves would be an unsympathetic listener and tears, when all was said and done, could change nothing. But it saddened him to see that once great tree so broken, so worn and defeated, with its limbs torn and head bowed in despair. To think back to happier times when it would merrily scatter blossom down over Beauty and Magic as the two beautiful black horses, saddled up by him and Davey and trotting majestically, were being ridden out by the Maddocks in their finest riding gear. Those days would never come again and the days ahead promised to be austere indeed.

Adolf Hitler was making waves in Germany and people here were joining the Army, Navy and Air Force in droves. Many of his mates had already signed up and it was only that the Maddocks were involved in Government affairs, relying on Jimmy to ferry them to and from political meetings which just might result in averting the impending war, that stopped him from "doing his bit" in defending his country. The lightning tree strike somehow seemed an ominous sign and his heart was heavy as he cycled home, only the rolling sound of the bicycle wheels, the sigh of the wind and the swish of an occasional motor car breaking the silence of the mud-splattered roads.

Rose, as was her habit no matter how late the hour, and Jimmy's times were often erratic in the lead up to the War, was sitting up waiting for him. Smiling, she put down her book, her pretty face pink in the glow of the gas lamp, jumping up to greet him with a kiss. They had been childhood sweethearts and though like all couples they had their ups and downs their marriage was generally a happy one. Drinking hot, steaming tea and eating thickly-buttered home-baked bread in the homely little cottage while the children slept, his worries and cares fled and his dreams carried him back in gentle arms to be with Beauty and Magic once more.

He woke to the sun streaming in through the bedroom window, to the clatter of dishes and smell of bacon, to Peggy and Johnjo's argument over who was to tell Dada breakfast was ready and Rose's voice calming them down. He felt more hopeful, thankful that apart from the tree no other living thing had been hurt in the fire.

But the tree had not been the only victim that terrible night.

Under the new sky bathed in golden sunlight, Davey was trundling a wheelbarrow full of gardening tools through the sodden grass when he thought he heard a small cry emanating from the stable block. Puzzled, he quickened his pace. The centuries old buildings had been empty since Beauty's death a few years earlier and once the fire had been quelled no one had troubled to look inside. But now, alerted by the noise, Davey checked each stall in turn and at last discovered its source.

The acrid smell of last night's smoke still hung in the air like an invisible shroud as, snuggled in the hay, six tiny black kittens nestled so close together they seemed as one. Nearby lay their dead mother, her fur bedraggled from last night's rain, her long whiskers fluttering momentarily in the breeze Davey brought inside. Poor Sally, the missing kitchen cat, had found strength enough to bring her babies safely into the world but not strength enough to fight for her own survival.

Davey dropped to his knees, quickly untying the sweater wrapped around his waist, for he had been assigned the task of clearing the area by the pond where the thick clump of trees blocked the sunlight and made it chilly even on the warmest day.

"Sorry, Sal, I gotta tend the little'uns first. But I'll be back, old girl, I promise."

His voice cracked with emotion. Sally had been little more than a kitten herself when, aged fourteen, he was first hired as stable boy and she had dodged cruel Hargreaves' kicks as often as Davey had dodged his blows. One memorable day, not long after Davey began working at Follyfoot, Keeper of Keys was in a particularly foul mood and they had both run out the door together to, as it turned out, the same refuge down by pond. Sally sat on the bank and watched the fish and birds, occasionally pausing to stretch, yawn and wash herself while Davey leaned against a tree and watched the clouds, occasionally pausing to stretch, yawn and smoke a cigarette. After that they confided in each other often - Davey would grumble to Sally about his workload and Sally would every morning run to greet Davey miaowing loudly.

Sally had been his best friend in the early days; indeed his only friend until Jimmy joined Follyfoot Farm, Davey's notorious laziness hardly endearing him to other staff. Taking care of her kittens was the least he could do for her. He cupped each carefully in his hands and, with difficulty as none would stay still, tucked the six tiny mewing black balls of fluff inside the sweater. Mrs Lattimer, his neighbour in Whistledown, owned three cats, one of whom had recently borne a litter, and Davey hoped that between them they could persuade Jess to nurse the orphaned kittens, but how to get them there and quickly? As though in answer to his silent question, a car horn honked briefly in the Yard.

Jimmy always liked to ensure the car was in good working order before any driving jobs by driving round Follyfoot, and occasionally the roads beyond, beeping the horn in regular short bursts around the Farm to warn anyone who might stray into its path. He had opened the door to shoo a hen that was blithely ignoring the horn and jaywalking at a leisurely Sunday pace when Davey dived into the passenger seat.

"Fast as yer can to Whistledown!" he ordered.

Thinking it was a joke, his friend began to laugh but Davey silenced him by briefly opening the lumpy bundle wriggling in his arms.

"Sally's dead. We gotta get the poor b*****s to feed or they're goners and Charlie's the quickest way to get 'em there!"

It was rarely, if ever, that Jimmy went along with Davey's harebrained schemes but the need for urgency and their mutual love of animals clinched it. His heart won out over his head.

"Just taking Charlie out for a quick spin!" Jimmy called, Davey having ducked out of sight and the noise of the car engine drowning out the kittens' mews. Keeper of Keys unquestioningly unlocked the gates, jumping back, startled when, instead of the usual sedate drive, Jimmy put his foot down.

The plan however went like clockwork. Mrs Lattimer, who adored cats, was as keen as Jimmy and Davey to save the kittens while Jess's motherly instincts immediately took over and she fussed over the brood as easily as if they'd been her own. As, unusually, Jimmy wasn't required to drive the Maddocks anywhere that morning he found plenty of time on their return to scrub out the car so that all trace of cat hairs - and muddy footprints - were successfully removed.

Davey had buried Sally in her favourite place, down by the pond, and Jimmy joined him there to help with the gardening, both half laughing, half crying as they reminisced over the irrepressible Sally's escapades, and there were many, from the day she was found on the pantry shelf polishing off the chicken, to the time she crept unseen beneath the table cloth during a VIP banquet being held at Follyfoot, and dropped a dead mouse on Prudence's foot.

It wasn't until Jimmy was returning to the Manor House later that the possible dire consequences of his hasty actions began to hit him. What was he thinking? He and Davey might have acted on the best of intentions, but what if the Maddocks had been called to an urgent political meeting? It could have been the very one that made all the difference between world war and world peace but lack of immediate transport had meant they hadn't been able to attend. And using the car for his own ends anyway, that could even result in instant dismissal and in poor Davey losing his job too. He was damned lucky his employers hadn't noticed Charlie's absence, but Davey HAD talked and a handful of other workers now knew what had happened. If Keeper of Keys, who hated the way the other staff looked up to Jimmy, got wind of one careless whisper he wouldn't hesitate to feel it his "duty" to report it…

He was still mulling things over when young Theresa Holmshaw, who was determined to rise from the shackles of maid-of-all-work and rise to the dizzy heights of lady's maid, and was "h'ever-so-careful" practising manners and speech though her accent let her down badly, came hurrying out of the servants' quarters and down the path to meet him, walking at a strange gait as though frightened her head might drop off any minute.

"Beggin' pardon, Mr Turner," she said politely. She had piled up her hair hoping to appear more sophisticated, although the fancy ribbons and decorative pins were rather impractical attire given that her work involved a great deal of running around, and she had had to fix the new style three times already. "We was all asked to keep a sharp eye out for yer," the snub-nosed little maid explained, concentrating on re-doing a pin working its way loose from her thick, dark tresses. "Master 'n' mistress requests yer presence in the drawin' room immediately. Please to follow me, sir."

Jimmy stifled a chuckle. Having worked at Follyfoot Farm for several years, he was already quite familiar, thank you, with the way to the drawing room as Theresa was well aware. But he also knew, as did Theresa, that it would do her career prospects no harm to show her face every now and then and so Jimmy allowed her to tap reverentially on the drawing room on his behalf.

"Mr Turner, sir, ma'am." She swept open the doors in response to the invitation to enter, tilting her chin so carefully to keep her hairdo in place that she put an amused Jimmy in mind of a ship's figurehead.

But his heart sank as soon as he saw the sombre expressions on the Maddocks' faces.

"Jimmy," Arthur began. "We have an extremely serious matter to discuss with you…"