Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [55]
The farmer gripped the steering wheel. ‘I wish I could help you. I’ve been trying to find her myself, poor love. It’s her father’s funeral I’m off to now. He’s being buried near that big sanatorium up at Emberley. Her mother’s only been gone a couple of weeks. Olwen’s all alone now – though she probably doesn’t know it. Her folks packed her off to try to keep her safe, and now it’s too late to ask them where she is.’
‘Olwen told me you knew her dad in the army.’
‘He saved my life – dragged me from a shell-hole at the battle of Ypres. He carried me on his back all the way to the dressing station. We lost touch after the war, but I couldn’t refuse him when he wrote saying he was in trouble. I’d promised I’d do anything for him. He was desperate. I thought I could give him a roof over his head and a job.’
Johnny had read stories like that in the Boy’s Own Paper. It was thrilling to hear that such heroism and gratitude happened in real life. He’d often wished that someone would appear on his doorstep with a tale about his own father’s war exploits, but this was the next best thing. He was proud on Olwen’s behalf, and glad that the farmer had done the decent thing.
‘It was kind of you to help them,’ said Johnny. ‘I know Olwen was grateful. It was one of the first things she told me when I met her. Hasn’t she written to you since she went away?’
‘Not a word. I think that’s odd, don’t you? You’d think her people would be in touch. I wish I’d taken more notice when they sent her away, but it was all such a rush, and it wasn’t my business, was it?’
The farmer sounded as if he wanted Johnny’s forgiveness. Johnny tried to make him feel better. ‘Oh, I’m sure you did everything you could. They were lucky you helped them in the first place.’
‘To be honest, there have been moments when I’ve regretted it. People don’t trust my milk since they brought the TB here. And burials don’t come cheap, even without fancy carriages and flowers.’
‘So there won’t be anyone else at the funeral?’
‘Probably not, unless the hospital’s found somebody. But it’s not fitting for anyone to be buried without a friend at the graveside, so I’m going: as a last thank-you for what he did for me, and on behalf of the relatives, you might say. It doesn’t seem right for young Olwen to miss her chance to say goodbye, but what can I do?’
‘Dr Langford said she’d gone back to relatives in Wales.’
‘Ah, but Wales is a big place. I know they were from Swansea, but who’s to say where their relations live? I couldn’t even track down their old home. I must have had their address once, when her dad first wrote to me, but I’m darned if I can find the letter anywhere. If I’d known all this was going to happen, I’d have taken more care. I never expected them all to drop dead before I had the chance to ask where Olwen was.’
‘Do you think I could come to the funeral too?’ asked Johnny. He remembered a phrase he’d heard his mother use. ‘I’d like to pay my respects.’
‘Well, that’s fine talk from one so young. You’re not really dressed for it, but I don’t see why not. There won’t be anyone there to take offence.’
Johnny looked down at his tatty clothes. In his mother’s absence he hadn’t paid any attention to washing or ironing, and he knew he must be even more grubby than usual after his long walk. ‘I really would like to come, if you don’t mind, sir.’
‘It will be a pleasure to take you. And good company for me,’ said the farmer, releasing the brake.
The van rolled forward, let out a couple of loud bangs, and moved off, bumping so much on the uneven road that Johnny’s bottom kept bouncing off the seat. They both started to laugh. That didn’t seem right on the way to a funeral, so they decided to sing hymns instead. After ‘All People That on Earth Do Dwell’, ‘He Who Would Valiant Be’, ‘Praise My Soul the King of Heaven’ and ‘The Lord’s My Shepherd’ they arrived at the graveyard at Emberley.
A young vicar was waiting for them. He supervised the burial with minimal ceremony. The gravediggers started filling in the hole, and Johnny and the farmer returned to the van.