Уильям Николсон - Motherland

‘She always does that,’ she says. ‘She always takes everything for herself.’

When they’ve had all they want of the picnic they lie on their backs on the rug and gaze up at the passing clouds. Kitty lies between Ed and Larry, with Elizabeth half on top of her.

‘We should go to the top of Caburn,’ she says.

‘You and Ed go,’ says Larry. ‘Like last time.’

‘Would you like that?’ Kitty says, turning her head to smile at Ed.

‘Of course,’ says Ed.

‘I’m coming too,’ says Pamela.

‘Me too!’ cries Elizabeth.

‘No,’ says Larry, ‘I want all those who are going to marry me to stay here and practise.’

‘Practise what?’ says Pamela dubiously.

‘Being married,’ says Larry. ‘I tell you to do things, and you don’t do them.’

This goes down well. Both girls stay with Larry. Ed and Kitty climb the hill. As they go they hear the game begin.

‘I go first,’ says Larry. ‘Pamela, make me a cup of tea.’

‘Shan’t!’ cries Pamela joyfully.

They climb on, out of earshot.

‘That’s a good friend you have there, Ed,’ says Kitty.

‘I know it,’ says Ed.

They walk to the end of the long ridge, and down the steep side of the ditch at the top, and up the other side to come out onto the summit. Here they stand, side by side, holding hands, looking over the immense view towards the sea.

‘Remember how the park was full of huts,’ says Kitty.

‘And the harbour full of ships,’ says Ed.

‘I’ve never forgotten what you said.’

‘What did I say?’

She looks at the looping river, and Newhaven beyond.

‘You said the river’s always running, until it meets the sea and can rest.’

‘Well, I suppose that’s true enough in its way.’

They gaze over the great sweep of Downs and sea in silence. Both are thinking how they kissed for the first time, standing here in the warm wind.

‘I’m sorry you’ve not been happy,’ Kitty says.

‘Not your fault,’ says Ed. ‘Just how I’m made.’

‘It feels like my fault.’

He takes her in his arms and smiles for her, just like the old Eddy did.

‘You’re my lovely angel,’ he says. ‘I love you so much.’

‘And I love you, my darling.’

‘I want you to be happy more than I want anything.’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ she says. ‘And anyway, I am happy now.’

‘Will you kiss me?’

‘Of course I will,’ she says.

He kisses her. For a long time after the kiss has ended he holds her close, his head bent over her shoulder, his eyes closed.

Back at the farmhouse, the car unloaded, Ed wheels out his old bike.

‘Just going for a spin,’ he says.

He follows the road to Newhaven and through sleepy Seaford, down the long hill to Cuckmere Haven and up the other side, heaving on the pedals, to the high ridge over Friston. Then down again into the forest, and up again, tired now. He gets off halfway and pushes the bike. At the summit he climbs onto the saddle again and pedals down the road to Birling Gap. It’s a long ride, the sun dropping slowly in the sky behind him, throwing his shadow before him. From Birling Gap the track runs unmade along the clifftop to Beachy Head. Here he dismounts and wheels the bicycle over the close-cropped turf. He lays the bicycle down, and takes off his jacket, and bundling it up, pushes it into the bicycle basket. In the breast pocket of his jacket there are two letters.

He stands looking round. Behind him the soft roll of Downland; before him the sea, ruffled by the wind, brownish-yellow near the land, grey-blue further out. There’s a low brick structure by the cliff edge, the remains of a Lloyd’s shipping watchtower, now converted into a viewing platform. Wooden benches are set inside its octagonal walls. On the outer wall there’s a new metal plaque.

On this headland and the surrounding Downs in the years of the Second World War between 1939 and 1945, the men and women of the Allied Forces helped defend their country.

The plaque is in honour of the Royal Observer Corps, the RAF, the WAAF, the Home Guard, the Anti-Aircraft Defences.

This plaque also commemorates the epic Dieppe Raid in 1942, which was partly controlled from the radar station on this headland. Beachy Head is once more in peace. But the devotion and patriotism of those who operated on this stretch of Downland in Britain’s greatest time of suffering will not be forgotten.

The plaque is dated October 16th 1949.

He reads, and gives a small wry smile, and moves on. He follows the cliff edge to a point where the chalkland forms a jagged projection. He stands here for a moment looking down at the red and white lighthouse. The breakers splash softly at its concrete base. The tide is in, the sea pushing against the foot of the great white cliffs five hundred feet below. He looks up, over the sea to the hazy horizon. Somewhere over there is Dieppe, and the beach where he thought he would die, but did not die.

Beachy Head is once more in peace.

He has been happy today for the first time in months; perhaps years. That’s something.

There’s a light wind blowing off the sea. He breathes in the salt air. He feels young again, and strong. The late afternoon sunlight gleams on the water, forming a bright broken road to the horizon.

Live like an arrow in flight. How he must be laughing, Rex Mundi, the king of the world. Only a few short steps to freedom.

He walks briskly towards the edge and jumps. As he falls, accelerating all the time, his arms reach out as if to slow his descent. Halfway down his body strikes the cliff, lacerating his side, tumbling him over. Near the bottom his flailing body hits the cliff again. So he hurtles on down to meet the yielding water and the unyielding rocks.

The letter to Larry reads:

Dear Larry. I’m sorry but I can’t do it any more. I’ve done all I can to provide for Kitty and the girls. Believe me, I’ve worked like a very devil. The business is in good shape. I don’t expect most people will understand, but I think you might. You’ve known me long enough. The simple truth is life has long been a torment to me. I don’t know why this should be so. The darkness is always there, waiting for me. I try to keep away from other people. I know my unhappiness is a burden and a sadness to them. In the end, this is the only way I know to keep away for ever. And dear old friend, don’t be angry with me for writing what I’m about to write. I want you to believe that I’m doing the little I can to make amends. I know you love Kitty, and have loved her from the first. I believe she loves you, without lessening her love for me. I’ve always known you could make her happy, and that I never will. In my selfishness I held on for too long. But now I know you’re free to be with her, I must go. Don’t pity me. Be happy for me. You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of this. Thank you, my friend, for your endless kindness to me. You’re a good man, and a braver man than I can ever be. Love Kitty and my girls for me. You’ll make a better job of it than I’ve ever done. Goodbye, dear friend. I’m not afraid of the darkness any more. Rest at last.

The letter to Kitty reads:

My only darling. Loving you has been the one good thing I’ve done in my life. Being loved by you has been a miracle to me. But we each have to live our own lives. I won’t drag you down with me any more. Don’t believe that your duty is to save me. I know how much I’ve hurt you. There’s no remedy for that. So now I’ve decided to go. My dearest darling, you’re so beautiful, so young, you have so much of your life ahead. Why should you live in the darkness with me? I don’t do this for you, I do it for me, to be free at last. But now you will be free too. My dearest, I know you love me. I’ve known it from the start. But I know you love Larry too. No shame in that. Who could not love Larry? Now that he too is free, I can go. Love Larry, darling, he deserves your love, and remember me, and love me too, and know that I’ve found rest at last. Don’t hate me for leaving you. Don’t be angry. Just say he did his best, and when he could do no more he laid himself down to sleep. Kiss the girls from me. Tell them if there’s a heaven after all, I’ll be waiting for them. Tell them I go with my head held high, still storming the fatal beach, still the war hero. Tell them I’ll love them for eternity. As I’ll love you. If we meet again it’ll be in a place where all things are known, and you’ll forgive me. Good night, my darling. I shall fall asleep in your arms, and the hurting will be over.