Джеффри Арчер - Tell Tale - Stories

Beth planned to tell him as soon as the doctor had confirmed she was with child, and would have done so when she returned home that afternoon, had the parlor maid not informed her that the squire had driven into Truro for an unscheduled meeting with his solicitor.

Beth was relieved that Ralph must have somehow found out that she was pregnant, and was well prepared to face the consequences whatever wrath might be brought down on her. She sat alone in the drawing room waiting for her husband to return so she could tell him the truth. If he refused to give her a divorce, Beth had already decided she would move out of the manor house and go and live with Jamie in his little cottage. But when Ralph returned several hours later, he marched into the house, slammed the front door, and disappeared into his study without a word passing between them.

Beth sat alone for hour upon hour until she could bear it no longer, and finally summoned up the courage to face him. She left the drawing room, walked slowly across the hall, and knocked quietly on his study door.

“Come,” said a terse voice. She entered the room shaking, and without even turning to face her, Ralph handed her what looked like a legal document. She read the letter twice, before she realized what had made him so angry. It was a directive from the War Office requiring him to report to his local recruitment office. The summons pointed out that the call-up age had been extended from forty-one to fifty-one, and he was therefore now eligible to join the armed forces. The only choice they gave him was the army, the navy, or the air force. Beth decided this wasn’t the time to let her husband know that she was pregnant.

The following day, Ralph lost his temper with the family doctor when the damn man refused to sign a certificate citing his flat feet as a reason he should be exempt from war service. But Ralph didn’t give in quite that easily. He immediately wrote to the Ministry of Agriculture, pointing out the vital role he was playing in the war effort. However, an undersecretary made it clear, by return of post, that being a landowner didn’t qualify him for exemption.

Undaunted, Ralph continued to search for any string he could pull to avoid being sent to the front line. He filled in applications for the Intelligence Corps — unqualified; the NAAFI — overstaffed; and the Home Guard — too young. After a month of fruitless delays, he finally accepted that he had no choice but to report to officer-training school in Berkshire. Three months later he passed out of Mons as Second Lieutenant Ralph Dudley Dawson, Esq., and was told to report back to his regimental headquarters in Truro, where he would receive his marching orders.

Beth would have enjoyed Ralph’s three months’ absence if Jamie hadn’t fully recovered — for which she felt partly to blame — and been ordered to return to his regiment. The difference was, this time he wanted to live.

Before Jamie left, Beth wrote to her husband and told him that she would be seeking a divorce as soon as the war was over. He didn’t reply.

On returning to Truro, the newly gazetted subaltern suggested to his commanding officer that his particular skills might be put to better use serving on the home front. However, as the colonel was unable to identify any such skills, Second Lieutenant Dudley Dawson was ordered to join the fifth battalion of the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry at Caen. That was when Ralph had his first stroke of luck. He was seconded to Command Headquarters behind Allied lines, where he quickly made himself invaluable, as he didn’t intend to come face to face with the enemy if he could possibly avoid it.

During her husband’s absence, Beth wrote him a second letter, fearing he might not have received the first, but once again Ralph didn’t reply. He assumed the affair would quickly fizzle out, and she would surely fall in line. After all, think what she would be giving up.

Less than a mile away, serving on the front line, was Corporal Jamie Carrigan, who had just been promoted, and put in charge of his own section. As the regiment continued its advance toward the German border, Jamie was becoming more and more confident that the war was coming to an end, and it wouldn’t be too long before he would return to Nethercote, marry the woman he loved, and continue to farm his modest leasehold while Beth raised their children.

Unfortunately Ralph was also considering what he would do once the war was over and he had been demobbed. He’d already decided not to extend the lease on Carrigan’s forty acres when it came up for its annual renewal. He would give the man thirty days’ notice and tell him to vacate the cottage and seek employment elsewhere. He also intended to renege on his agreement with Mr. Trevelyan to waive any future rent on the Nethercote Arms. After all, there was nothing in writing. Ralph assumed such threats would surely bring his wife to her senses, but even if she didn’t fall in line, he had no intention of divorcing her.

It was after the colonel’s morning meeting with his staff officers that he asked Captain Dudley Dawson to stay behind.

“Ralph,” said the commanding officer once they were alone, “a problem has arisen that I need you to deal with discreetly. We’ve lost radio contact with the other battalion, and I need to urgently get a message to their commanding officer and let him know that I intend to advance at first light. Otherwise I’ll be stuck here until communications are restored.”

“Understood, sir,” said Dudley Dawson.

“I can’t pretend the assignment isn’t risky, and wonder if you can think of anyone who might be relied on to carry out such a dangerous mission.”

“I know just the man,” said Dudley Dawson, without hesitation.

“Good, then I’ll leave all the details to you. Report back to me the moment your man returns—” he hesitated, “or doesn’t.”

Captain Dudley Dawson left the colonel’s tent, jumped into his jeep and asked to be taken to the front line, which took his driver by surprise as he’d never been there before. On arrival, he immediately briefed Carrigan’s section commander on the proposed mission. The young lieutenant was surprised by the colonel’s choice of runner, remembering that the regiment’s cross-country champion was also in his platoon, but he wasn’t in the habit of questioning his commanding officer’s orders.

Ralph watched from a distance as Lieutenant Jackson briefed Carrigan on the importance of the assignment. A few minutes later, the corporal climbed out of the trench, and without looking back set off across no-man’s-land.

“How long do you think it will take him to reach the other battalion?” asked Ralph after Jackson reported back to him.

“If he makes it, sir, an hour at the most. But then he still has to get back.”

“Let’s hope he does,” said Ralph in his most sincere voice.

Lieutenant Jackson nodded and said, “God help the man.”

Ralph didn’t believe in God, but decided he would hang around for a couple of hours or so before he reported back to the colonel that sadly Carrigan had not returned, and therefore the mission would have to be aborted.

An hour passed and there was no sign of Carrigan. Another fifteen minutes, still no sign. But Ralph remained huddled in a corner of the trench for another half hour before he allowed himself the suggestion of a smile.

“Damned fine effort,” he said to Lieutenant Jackson, who was peering through a pair of binoculars across the wooded landscape. “One couldn’t have asked more of Carrigan,” continued Ralph as he checked his watch. “Well, I’d better get back to HQ and let the colonel know that the advance will have to be delayed until we can make radio contact. Damn fine effort,” he repeated. “I’ll be recommending to the colonel that Carrigan is awarded the Military Medal for service above and beyond the call of duty. It’s the least he deserves,” he added before he began to crawl along the trench.