Duncan Ford had not been back to the village for decades. After he had left home to join the army his parents, now long deceased, had moved away, but where he had grown up was always home to him. Now after years spent in the forces and then the diplomatic service, it was the place where he wanted to spend his retirement years. He stopped beside the Parish Church deciding to wander around the gravestones knowing that many of the older generation he knew as a young man would probably be laid to rest there now.
He had not gone far when a petite woman in jeans and an Aran
sweater stood up from tending a grave and exclaimed “It’s Duncan! Isn’t it?” He
looked hard. Molly Grainger had been five or six years older than him when he
was a boy, a grown up to him then, but she looked far from her sixty-five
years. They were soon in animated conversation. Looking down he said, “I see
that’s your Brother George’s grave you are putting flowers on.” “Yes,” Molly
replied, “He passed away last year. He never married and I had him laid next to
mother.”
Molly had been a late unplanned surprise. Her parents had
two older boys already out at work when she was born. Her father had experienced
a mustard gas attack in the trenches in the First World War and with a weak
chest had later succumbed to TB a few months after Molly’s birth. Her brother
Frank joined the Merchant Navy and perished with a convoy in World War Two.
George remained at home, apart from wartime and worked on a farm in the
village, provided for his mother and was a father to Molly. Although she only had a secondary education,
noting she had a flair for figures, George had encouraged Molly to get a job
with a local firm of accountants and she had become a very competent
bookkeeper.
With a woman’s natural curiosity, Molly was soon asking
Duncan if he had married and had a family. Duncan related how he had married a
lady overseas, brought her back to England and set up home in Surrey, he was
working at the Ministry of Defence then, and they had a baby daughter. When
Duncan had to go on a six-month unaccompanied tour overseas he returned to a
wife asking for a divorce. She had used Duncan to get her British passport now
she’d taken up with an elderly stockbroker intent on getting his fortune. He
felt she had made a fool of him and was glad to be rid of her. Though as his
daughter grew up, she maintained regular contact with him recognising that
money lavished on her was nothing compared to Duncan’s real parental affection.
Molly had never left the village and conversation turned to
those who were young when they were young. In his youth Duncan had a fondness
for pretty Susan Jarvis, a couple of years younger than him and her father
farmed the biggest acreage in the village. Much as he had liked Susan, he
despised her brother Charlie who was three years older than him. Charlie was a
bully. He frequently picked on Duncan and the incidents in the school swimming
pool were the worst. He would gleefully quip “Let’s dunk Duncan” and with two
or three of his cronies, he would push Duncan’s head under the water until he
thought his lungs were going to burst or he would drown. Duncan hated Charlie, vowing
that when he was grown up, he would cheerfully strangle him.
In spite of her brother, Duncan had hoped to marry someone
like Susan and they met when he came home on his first leave from overseas.
Susan was playing a little hard to get and Duncan wanted to enjoy his freedom a
bit longer. He waxed lyrical about the delights of seeing the world, not
realising he was infecting Susan with the travel bug. Back overseas again he
was missing her and decided next time he was home to pop the question. On leave
again he rang the farm. Her mother answered the phone explaining that Susan was
not there. She had given up a local job and gone off to join an airline and was
training to be an air hostess. Duncan had shrugged it off consoling himself
with the thought there were other fish in the sea, but he never forgot Susan.
He did not have to ask, oddly it was Molly who introduced
Susan into the conversation, perhaps female intuition. She related how Susan
had delighted in flying around the world with an international airline seeing
the sights in faraway cities. Then she met Bill, a dashing pilot who swept her
off her feet. All her friends tried desperately to warn her, but she was
blindly smitten. Bill thought he was the ace of the Mile High Club counting his
conquests like a Spitfire pilot logging downed German aircraft, leaving a trail
of broken hearts in his wake. The marriage lasted only three years and she came
home with a baby son and became rather recluse. She took up writing short
stories for women’s magazines. Susan’s heroines were usually disappointed in
love when they were young only to find true romance in later life. Strangely, as
Susan got older so did her heroines as though they reflected her own inner
longings.
Molly said, “Why not come home for lunch and meet my husband
if you have the time to spare.” and Duncan cheerfully accepted. As they walked
through the village towards a large modern bungalow, Molly turned the
conversation again to Charlie Jarvis explaining that he had become a totally
different person since Duncan had last known him. Charlie had left school to
work on his father’s farm and enjoyed sports, playing football, tennis and
cricket. Then one day the accident occurred – his arm got trapped and mangled
in a piece of unguarded machinery and had to be amputated. Charlie went
completely to pieces, his moods swinging between violent anger and abject self-pity.
No one could get near him until the new vicar started visiting him. The Reverend
Jones had been chaplain to a regiment captured by the Japanese in Burma and had
endured suffering on the Burma Railway. No one knew the content of their
conversations but Charlie became the most positive and compassionate of people
and since that time served as church warden to three consecutive vicars.
Molly opened the door and ushered Duncan through into the
lounge, “Charlie we’ve got a visitor for lunch.” she called out and before he
knew it Duncan was shaking a prosthetic right hand. After the initial
formalities, Molly said “Why don’t you two go down the Crown for a half pint and
catch up on old times while I’m preparing lunch.” As soon as they were out of
the door she picked up the phone and was saying something about a foursome.
As they walked to the pub Charlie was quick to say “Duncan I’ve
always wanted to meet you again to say sorry for the way I treated you when we
were kids.” Apologies were accepted and it was never to be thought of again.
Charlie explained how he and Mollie came together. Soon
after he had recovered from the accident, still in his mid- twenties, his
father died after a fall from his horse when out with the local hunt. In the
wave of post-war agricultural prosperity Jack Jarvis had wanted to make up for
the years of pre-war austerity in farming. He rode with the hounds, went to race days at Newmarket, drank and gambled more than he should. He kept buying
more land, wanting to be the gentleman country land owner.
Everything was left to his mother with Charlie to manage the
farm on her behalf. His father had dealt with the accounts and when the books
were opened an appalling situation was revealed. There were gambling debts,
agricultural merchant’s bills unpaid and the home farm as well as the rest of
the land he had purchased had been heavily mortgaged in a desperate attempt to
stave off his creditors.
George Grainger, Molly’s brother, was working on the Jarvis
farm – he was stalwart, reliable and trustworthy and when Charlie confided his
troubles, George suggested getting Molly involved. Charlie was hopeless with
figures and could not afford to pay her much, but she buckled down to it and
worked all hours. She negotiated payment plans with all the creditors and
oversaw all the purchasing ensuring nothing was bought that was not absolutely
essential. Machinery was repaired and never replaced for several years and she
even went to the merchants with Charlie and drove hard bargains with the cereal
buyers. Although a little older than Charlie, Molly had other charms too and
Charlie fell for her and soon they were married. Pausing to sip his ale he
continued “I was helped a lot by George and the Reverend Jones in those days, but
Molly was the angel who saved the day. She’s been a wonderful wife as well. I’d
give my other arm too before I’d lose her.”
He continued “When my mother departed, she left everything
to me and Susan. Molly and I had two sons – one took to farming and one didn’t,
he’s a professor of philosophy at Cambridge now. As it worked out Susan’s boy
Ted loved the land, so Ted and Jim, my eldest, run the whole show in partnership
now – over a thousand acres and a healthy bank balance too – I just help out as
and when required. They are all married with families now and Molly and I had the
bungalow built for our retirement.” Then he looked at Duncan and queried
“Enough of me, what are your plans?”
Duncan explained that he was looking for a property to
retire to in the village, perhaps a house in need of renovation, a project that
would keep him occupied and Charlie thought he knew just the place.
As Charlie and Duncan walked back to the bungalow, a face
peered out of the kitchen window and turned to Molly and chided, “You should
have told me who it was and I’d have put a new dress on.”
Charlie and Molly sat down to lunch with Duncan and Susan. When
Molly had cleared the dishes off the table she came back and said, “Duncan do
you like black coffee or white?” A bemused Duncan still gazing at Susan replied, “Eh what, yes please.” Susan kicked him gently under the table and Molly winked
at Charlie.
Duncan and Susan wed the next year. He had bought a neglected
Elizabethan manor house in the village. His daughter Jean had married Don, an
architect, and they frequently came to stay for weekends. Don would advise on
the restoration work and labour manually in as well. Within three years the
work was completed. Despite their different career paths in retirement Duncan and
Charlie got on tremendously well, and with Molly and Susan the four frequently
went on cruises and touring holidays together.
Now we must fast-track forward to 2025. Molly is in her
nineties now. Charlie was diagnosed with cancer in 2018, chemotherapy kept him
going for a couple of years and with help from nurses coming in, Molly cared for
him at home till the end. Then Susan was one of the first victims of Covid and
Duncan seemed to lose the will to go on and died a few months later, but they
had enjoyed over twenty blissful years together in later life. Although the
eldest by far, Molly has outlived them all.
Molly’s mother had always described what a kind man her
father was although she never knew him and she had tried to live up to his
ideals. She had acquired wisdom with experience and whether family members or neighbours,
she would always listen to the troubles of others, dispensing good advice or
rolling up her sleeves to help if it was a practical issue. Now others helped
her.
She is frailer now – someone from the farm comes round
regularly to keep the garden tidy and a woman from the village comes in weekly
to do the cleaning. Her son the professor has retired and her other son and
Susan’s boy are handing over the farm to the next generation. Molly has six grandchildren
and now four great-grandchildren. She delights in seeing them, but if they stay
too long, she sits down with a sigh of relief when they are gone. Were children
always as noisy and boisterous as that?
On a summer’s day, Molly goes out into the garden, picks a
basket of roses, walks down to the churchyard and lays a rose on each grave of
a loved one. Then she sits on the bench and remembers the happiest times from
the past, like the day she and Charlie celebrated when all the debts were
cleared and they took the boys down to the West Country for their first real
holiday after years of doing without. She remembers those holidays spent later
with Duncan and Susan and smiles at amusing incidents that occurred. She
recalls the boy’s weddings, then the weddings of grand- children and the
delights of new babes arriving and the family celebrations when they all came
together for Christmas and special anniversaries. Life had been good.
April this year has been warm, though the roses are not out
yet she walks slowly down to the churchyard; she’s feeling very tired now. She
sits on the bench and her thoughts go back increasingly to childhood days. She
remembers the time when George had to leave home to serve in the army during
the war – how at bedtime she prayed with her mother each night for his safe
return. The letters came from Egypt, Libya, Italy and then the official one
saying he was missing in action. Frank had already been lost, the anguish they
felt then, followed by the relief when they heard George was in a prisoner of
war camp. Corporal George Grainger came home in 1945 the day before her 12th
birthday, it was the happiest birthday of her life.
That was how they found her later in the day, stretched out
on the bench still with the flicker of a smile on her face.
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