Angels in the Gloom_ A Novel - Anne Perry [9]
He smiled, thinking of the vast organization of support, everyone striving to do what they could for the men they loved.
“I expect the squire will be to see you,” she went on, changing the subject completely, except that he, by his very position, was part of the old way of the village. He belonged to the past that she trusted. “He’s bound to be a bit tedious, but it’s his duty,” she added. “You’re a hero, and he’ll want to pay his respects and hear about your experiences.”
He debated it. He hated to talk about the men he knew. No words could draw for anyone else what their lives were like. And yet the people left at home who loved them had a need to know. Their imaginations filled in the emptiness, but it would still be immeasurably better than the truth.
“You don’t have to see him,” Hannah cut across his thoughts, but her voice was gentle. “Not yet, anyway.”
“No,” he said. “I’ll see him as soon as he feels like coming.”
She finished her cocoa and put down the cup. “Are you certain? I can put it off very nicely.”
“I’m sure you can,” he agreed. “I’ve seen you. Always a lady, but like Mother, you could freeze anyone at twenty paces if they took liberties.”
She smiled and lowered her eyes.
“If he comes now,” he went on, wishing he were able to lean over and touch her hand, “then I can be very brief, and get away with it.”
She looked up with a flash of understanding. “You don’t like to talk about it, do you? Archie doesn’t, either.” There was loneliness in that, knowing she was being excluded. She stood up. “Do you think you can go to sleep now? I’ll stay if you like.”
That was just what she must have said to her children time and time again, after a bad dream. He felt so very much at home now, as if he were back in the past: the house, Hannah, the books and habits, the best from childhood—all these were familiar and comfortable with use. There were ways in which they were threads that held the core of life together. “I’ll be fine,” he said quietly.
She went out, leaving the door ajar, in case he should want her. He felt like a child, and at least for a short while, just as safe. Surprisingly, he did fall asleep shortly after.
CHAPTER
* * *
TWO
Hannah remained at home the following day until the squire had visited in the morning. He seemed to be as relieved as Joseph was that he could just utter a few hearty platitudes and consider his duty done.
After he left, Hannah ascertained Mrs. Appleton was downstairs and would make lunch for Joseph. She herself needed to go into Cambridge and see the bank manager, and perform one or two other necessary errands.
She caught the train in the village and was there in half an hour. The city did not look so different to her—the change had been gradual—but she still noticed the absence of young men. There were a few errand boys, junior clerks, and delivery men, but in streets once crowded with the cheerful conversations of the young with the world of knowledge before them, there were hardly any students. She could not bear to think of how many of them were already dead in France, and how many more would be.
She went into the bank and asked to speak to the manager. She liked Mr. Atherton. He was very capable and she always left reassured.
After a few minutes, a smart young woman in a plain, dark blue suit came out of the side door. The blouse was crisp and tailored, and the skirt was rather full and reached only to the middle of her calf. No doubt the jacket would be long, and equally fashionable. She had also cut her hair short. She looked about Hannah’s age.
“Good morning, Mrs. MacAllister,” she said with a slight smile. “My name is Mae Darnley. How can I help you?” She offered a cool, lean hand, without any rings.
The gesture struck Hannah as odd, but she nonetheless shook the woman’s hand because it would have been rude not to. “I would like to speak to Mr. Atherton, please.” She had already said as much to