couldn’t resist it. Here.’ She passed the little package across. Inside was a tiny sweat shirt with a big D on front and back. ‘It’s a little thank you for the life-saving cup of tea last week.’ She looked back at the little boy who decided to give her a big smile. In an instant she forgot her woes and burrowed her face into his tummy. He chortled.
‘Thank you, it’s sweet, but you shouldn’t have.’ Vicky placed a mug of tea in front of her and a packet of biscuits. As they chatted, Alice took one and nibbled it. She was tickled to see that the baby’s eyes followed her hand each time she raised it to her mouth, just like the Labrador. These two very different Dannys had that in common. She wondered for a moment if the two grown-up Dannys held strong views on biscuits. This thought, too, helped to raise her morale.
‘So what do you do, Vicky?’ Alice asked, and noted a cloud cross the younger woman’s face for a moment.
‘You’re looking at him. This little chap is keeping me fully occupied at present.’ There was a soft note to her voice, but there was something more underneath. She looked up at Alice. ‘And I love him to bits. But, to be honest, as soon as I can, I’d like to go back to university.’
Alice gave her a smile. ‘That’s a coincidence. I had exactly the same thought. What would you want to study?’
Vicky looked happier now. ‘A teaching qualification. I think I’d enjoy teaching. I did a languages degree here at Exeter a few years back. I’d really like to try teaching French and German.’ The cloud crossed her face again. ‘And I’m probably going to need the money. What about you?’
Alice noted her discomfort, but made no comment. ‘I’m thinking of history. Maybe try to get in to do an MA.’ She swallowed the last piece of her biscuit and reached for her tea.
The little boy, obviously tired of watching people eat and drink, extended his hands towards his mother and let out a squeal. Vicky gave him a tender smile. ‘You’ve only just had lunch, you know?’ She glanced up at Alice, a wistful look in her eye. ‘Just like his dad. Always eating.’
Over the weekend, Alice settled down to research the First World War. She pulled out her laptop and set it up on the little table in her bedroom, looking out onto the garden. Since her last visit, the sunny weather had brought out more and more leaves and flowers. The garden looked fuller, the hedges thicker. She gazed out at the scene from time to time as she tried to take in the facts she read. Apart from ordering a couple of books on the war, she read her way through a number of websites dedicated to it. They made for sobering reading. The casualties were of epic proportions: sixteen million dead and twenty million wounded. For the first time, slaughter had been on an industrial scale.
As the sun dropped lower towards the horizon, she heard Mrs Tinker calling up to offer a cup of tea. She shut the laptop and headed downstairs, her mood darkened by her reading. There was no doubt in her mind, however, she was getting more and more interested in that period.
A mug of tea and packet of biscuits stood on the table. The Labrador came over to greet her and accompanied her to her seat. He had already worked out that the chocolate Hobnobs were on the table. He sat down beside Alice and studied her every move. Today, however, she resisted the temptation.
‘So have you been having a little snooze?’ Mrs Tinker gave her a knowing look. Alice had returned from Beauchamp at four and it was now almost seven o’clock. ‘Tired after the journey down, I expect.’
‘No, that’s not it. You see, I promised myself, once I was settled in Devon, I would see if I could get a place at university to do an MA.’ She looked up, still trying to come to terms with the horrors she had read. ‘I’m thinking about going for the First World War.’ She took a mouthful of tea. ‘It’s a fascinating, if deeply sad period.’
‘Ah, the Great War. That’s what my dad always called it. It only became the First World War after 1939. Of course, the men who came home from the war in 1918 couldn’t have imagined that Europe would be stupid enough to start a second one so soon afterwards.’ Mrs Tinker gave a sigh. ‘My uncle Tony was killed quite early on.’
Alice nodded, remembering seeing the name Corporal A. J. Tinker on the Woodcombe war memorial. Of course, A for Anthony.
Mrs Tinker went on, a faraway look in her eyes as she scoured her memory. ‘My dad was one of the lucky ones. He had TB as a child. They wouldn’t take him for the trenches.’
‘I bet he was grateful.’
Mrs Tinker looked up, an expression of incomprehension on her face. ‘Anything but, Alice. All his life he regretted the fact that he hadn’t done his bit, as he put it. The fact that he would almost definitely have been killed didn’t come into it.’ She shook her head sadly, a tear in her eye.
Alice reached across and laid her hand on hers. Her mother had died several years ago and she had never known her father. Somehow this old lady would make a wonderful surrogate grandma, if not mum. She gave her hand a squeeze.
‘Still, if he had gone off to war, you probably wouldn’t be here now.’ Mrs Tinker shot her a weak smile, pulled herself together and stood up.
‘If you’ve got a moment, there’s something through here that might interest you.’ She led Alice into the sitting room, where there was a bookcase along one wall. Mrs Tinker pointed to the bottom shelf. It was filled with volumes about the Great War. ‘Those belonged to my father. He read all of them. It’s a shame he’s no longer with us. He would have been able to answer all your questions about that time.’
Alice stared, wide-eyed, at the hoard of books, then looked up at Mrs Tinker. ‘Do you think I could read some of these? It’s an amazing collection.’
‘Of course you can. Take as many as you like. He would be pleased to know that you young ones are still interested after all these years.’
They returned to the warmth of the kitchen. It had been chilly in the other room. With clear skies, the nights were still cold, although spring was bursting out all over.
Alice went down to the King’s Arms for dinner. She told herself sternly that once she had got her own house, she would have to stop eating out. What was it she had said to Danny about slobbing out?
She brought her iPad with her to the pub, anxious to carry on with her research. She ordered a mineral water and a salad. Just because I’m in a pub, it doesn’t mean I can’t still have good, healthy food, she told herself. She checked her e-mails, but there was just the invoice for the clean-up at number 23 Lyndhurst Avenue. As the surveyor had said, it was more than expected, but she had no regrets.
The pub was crowded and she recognised a few of the faces around her from the previous times she had been there. There was no sign of the vicar or Daniel Tremayne, but a couple of young men gave her welcoming smiles. She began to feel a bit more cheerful. The fact that they were all ten or fifteen years younger than her gave her a lift. Maybe there was life in the old dog yet. Thought of the old dog made her think of Danny the Labrador. He really was a good dog. She was smiling at his memory when her iPad bleeped. It was an e-mail from Sally.
Hi Alice
I hope you don’t get this email until tomorrow because you are out with your handsome vicar tonight. Make sure you don’t tire him out too much. Tomorrow is his busiest day of the week, after all.
