‘So we might yet find out what happened to Grandad Len and Grandad Farrier thatday,’ Margaret mused.
‘Let’s hope so,’ Mortonanswered absent-mindedly, tapping out a short reply. ‘Well, I supposeJuliette and I should think about packing soon. We’ve got a long tripback to Sussex ahead of us. We’re going to stop off at Dad’s to tell himour good news. Jeremy and Guy are staying with him and apparently theyforced him to eat a Christmas dinner yesterday, which is a miracle.’
Margaret laughed. ‘A load of old commercial nonsense,’ she said,impersonating her brother. ‘I think he’s getting soft in his old age—Ieven had a Christmas card from him this year.’
‘Wonders will never cease,’ Morton said, shutting down his laptop.
Justover an hour later, Morton and Juliette were standing in the lounge, pulling ontheir shoes and coats. Their two packed suitcases stood by the frontdoor.
‘Right,’ Morton began,fearing an awkward silence was about to expand into the room, ‘it’sbeen…amazing. Thank you for having us to stay; we’ve had a lovely time. Thanks, Uncle Jim, for putting up with all the genealogy.’
‘Well, it’s kept Margaret quiet—that’s no easy feat,’ he said, offering hishand to Morton.
Morton shook his uncle’shand then turned and embraced his Aunty Margaret.
‘Thank you for your understanding, Morton,’ she whispered. ‘Good luckwith your future quests. I hope you find him.’
‘Thanks,’ Morton replied softly.
‘Goodbye, nearly-niece-in-law,’ Jim roared, scooping Juliette into his arms.
‘Put the poor girl down, James,’ Margaret said. ‘Goodbye, dear. It’s been lovely to get to know you. Welcome to the family.’
‘Thank you both so much—it’s obviously been a really important visit for us,for a variety of reasons. Thanks,’ Juliette said.
‘You’re welcome down here anytime,’ Margaret added.
With Margaret and Jim watching and waving from the front porch, Morton andJuliette walked hand in hand down the path towards the Mini.
Morton heaved the suitcases into the boot then slumped into the driver’sseat. He faced Juliette and smiled. ‘We did it.’
‘You did it,’ she replied.
He had done it. In five short days he had confronted his past andaccepted his future. ‘Come on then, let’s get back to Sussex.’
ChapterSeventeen
26th December 1914, Cambrin, France. 9.15pm.
CharlesFarrier was standing poised in the fire trench, ankle-deep in mud with LeonardSageman, failing to supress a shiver nipping the length of his spine. Both men stood silently waiting for a third man to join them before going overthe parapet to check the wire. It was a routine job that Charles hadundertaken before now and which had not particularly fazed him on thoseoccasions; tonight, however, the brightness of the moon troubled him. Sergeant Buggler, who had given the order, had assured him that it was stilltoo subdued to be useful to guide enemy fire.
Charles glanced down at himself. His new socks and clean clothes werealready unrecognisable through the wet solid covering of fetid mud. Helooked up and was immediately displeased to see Cyril Stoneham standing infront of Sergeant Buggler, having been selected as the third member of theirparty. Of all the people to accompany us over the top, it has to bethat obtuse profane man, Charles thought.
‘Okay, boys. Off you go. Be quick about it,’ the sergeant growled.
‘Good luck, lads,’ Edward Partington called, as he watched them one by oneascend the wooden ladder over the parapet. As they scrambled up to astanding position, each man held his breath in anticipation of sudden enemyfire; all of them had a catalogued history of knowing men who had been snipedat exactly such a moment. Instinctively, they all stood still for amoment, surveying the brutal landscape around them. To Charles, each timehe saw No Man’s Land up close like this, it grew more and moreunrecognisable. No longer part of France. No longer part of Europe. No longer part of the world. Just desolate and barren, where theonly living things were parasitic vermin, preying on the expiring pulses ofnationless men. The crescent moon, sitting low in the open skies among asmattering of stars, only served to render the land starker, moremonochromatic.
‘Come on then,’ Charles whispered to the two men, his breath puffing out intothe chilled air. He led them on the most direct course that he couldfind, zigzagging past rotting body parts, water-filled craters and stumps of woodthat were once trees, all the while fighting against the unyielding adhesivedrag and suction from the mud below.
‘Hang on a sec,’ Stoneham called after a few minutes’ walking, bending doubleto catch his breath.
Leonard and Charles continued a few paces then stopped, also grateful for ashort break.
‘Hello, Fritz!’ Stoneham suddenly said loudly, standing up and heading to anearby crater.
‘Shut up!’ Charles hissed, searching for the focus of Stoneham’s attention.
‘What are you doing?’ Leonard glowered.
‘Calm down,’ Stoneham called back. ‘Just saying hi to Fritz, here.’
With a clear shaft of moonlight reflecting back from the water, Charles couldsee a dead German solider hanging out of the crater, his body slumped to theside, as if he ran out of life trying to free himself from his watery grave.
‘For God’s sake, leave him alone,’ Charles called back, needing to express hisabsolute disapproval but also feeling uncomfortable with how their voices wouldbe carrying across the bleak landscape.
‘Let’s go and get him,’ Leonard whispered to Charles. ‘Damned fool thathe is.’
The two men hurried as quickly as they could towards Stoneham, who was riflingthrough the dead German’s pockets.
‘What are you doing?’ Leonard demanded. ‘Leave the poor bugger alone.’
Charles studied the German’s face. He was young; he could only have beenin his early twenties with a good-looking defined face. Under his PickelhaubeCharles could see cropped dark hair. His eyes were closed and, despitethe incongruous surroundings, he actually looked peaceful.
Stoneham examined a small book that he had pulled out from the soldier’spocket. ‘Say hello to Gustav,’ he said, waving the book in the air. As he did so, something fell to the floor, landing by Charles’s rightfoot. Charles stooped down to pick it up. He held it close to hisface and saw that it was a photograph of the dead German in full militaryuniform with a young baby girl, around the same age as Alfie, sitting on hisknee. Charles
