Grandpapa's friend had a short grey beard, which tended to wag as he spoke. 'That's a fine animal Midship, and he surely has a name?'
'Tonks,' said I, 'would you care to hold him, but please don't squeeze to tightly.' Tonks was transferred safely to the sailor's hand and sat sniffing up in the air and then on the coat sleeve. Grandpapa scraped his chair to get a better view, and Tonks fled up the sailor's sleeve. There were yells of pleasure as both endeavoured to encourage Tonks out but eventually Grandpapa's friend had to carefully take his tweed coat off and gently tap the sleeve until Tonks slid down and gained Grandpapa's desk safely. He then dashed over to me and I scooped him up and pocketed him.
'Takes me back a few years' said the sailor and both men had tears in their eyes. For a moment I thought they both looked wistful.
'The reason you are here is that Um ..Har.' Grandpapa began.
'I have come down from London to deliver a scroll to you Midship.' Carried on the other as he picked up a card tube and tapped it on the table. Carefully he pulled the scroll out. 'Can you read?' he inquired gently and I nodded my head.
He handed me the scroll and I opened it wide and read aloud.
'This order is to cover all rivers and waterways within the boundaries of East Wiltshire. That the aforesaid is designated my Swan Officer and Protector for the area stated above. Signed George Rex. It was printed in several pastel colours were various swans and river birds, and in the middle was my name beautifully inscribed in full. Except it was spelt incorrectly.
'Well what do you have to say?' said my Grandpapa.
'Thank you very much sir,' I said turning to the sailor,' please thank the King, but alas he has spelt Tourney without the e in it, and I do believe the signature appears to be printed.' There was a brief silence from both, until their eyes met and a roar of laughter bubbled up from them both. I felt uncomfortable until the sailor called for Grandpapa's pen. He placed a small upward arrow between the n and the y, then wrote a capital E. He then signed the scroll in Grandpapa's purple ink. George V Rex. He added as an afterthought 'and Emperor'. He rolled it up and handed it back to me and I thanked him again for coming so far to deliver it to me.
I acknowledged it was rude to complain but in return, but I said I would not write to the King to say a sailor had forged his signature. I left after he shook my hand and said he was pleased it would be kept so, as we were all shipmates.
I bowed to Grandpapa, and they both stood and bowed to me, I was somewhat taken aback by this action, Grandpapa had never risen before and bowed to me so I rushed back to Mother and normality. We were about to leave in the trap and Father came across to introduce the tall gentleman to Mother. 'The Kings secretary, Sir something or other.' which I did not quite catch. When we reached the Manor I returned Tonks to his cage and he seemed quite unperturbed about the whole episode. Rose asked me how I had enjoyed meeting His Majesty, 'He wasn't there, but I did meet Grandpapa's sailor friend. 0h, but I did meet his secretary Sir something or other. Father bought him to meet mother.' I said rather proudly.
I had at school, quite got used to all the pictures Miss Preston had on the wall but the next Monday I did concentrate on the Kings portrait above the doorway. He had not changed much, his hair and beard a shade more greyish perhaps. I heard a special train had been laid on so that was that. The scroll Grandpapa kept under glass in the castle hallway. Later I received another one spelt correctly, down below was written, 'from one Midshipman to another' it read, then his real signature in real ink.
CHAPTER FOUR. COMING'S, GOING'S AND A LITTLE LOVE.
My seventh year was filled with both schooling and farm work, it was the year that I became aware of the importance and high regard of our family in the community. It was the flood, which became imprinted on my young mind. We had a heavy fall of snow at Christmas, which put everybody into high spirits. But a swift thaw and most unusual fair weather followed this. I went to check on the swans with Father and Stumps, the river had flooded and we measured the height against a marked board that was erected close to the ford. Obviously nothing could pass safely across and Sergeant Smithers had placed a wooden barrier on either side to stop traffic. My swans were all safe, for the swollen river had moved into the meadow and had formed pools of relatively still water. The river itself rushed and swirled and I worried for the freshwater fish being swept away into the sea. Father pointed to the swirling pools close to the banks in the lee of the flow. 'They are all safe there, and the young would have followed your swans into the meadows.'
We then returned for home only to hear a shout behind us. Father and Stumps ran toward the ford. One of the village youths had been swept away when attempting a crossing through the ford. We ran along the bank as fast as we could, Father and Stumps leaving me far behind, but I could hear them shouting for rope and help. The youth had somehow grasped the wooden supports of a small jetty and Father had grabbed his collar and wrenched him from the racing river. Eventually I arrived on the scene to see Pinky Purvis streaming with water being led away by Stumps to Pinky's cottage. Nobody shook Father's hand, which given his quick reaction and eventual success, I thought strange. He merely smiled down at me as we walked away, but I did notice Sergeant Smithers had given him a salute, and others had gently dipped their heads. 'Will you get a medal from the King?' I asked him but he laughed and shook his head, 'More likely I'll be blamed for the flooding, people can be that strange.'
My Father's prophetic words were to be realised by a week of heavy rain and turbulent winds. This bought about the risk of severe flooding in the dairy cow fields. His time was consumed with saving the pasture by opening up the weirs or holding them where they were and not flooding the village. In the end after much discussion with Uncle Arthur and Grandpapa the decision was made to move the cows to higher ground. Alas, too late, the heavy timbers on one side of the weir collapsed and so four of the village cottages were soaked through. Grandpapa was deluged with complaints and Father gamely took the blame, he explained the timbers had rotted and the farm and river was his responsibility. To placate the villagers Grandpapa had a substantial bridge built over the river by the ford and renovated those unfortunate cottages damaged by the floods. He opened the bridge and it was called Mill Bridge, the Mill being a short distance down stream. But the villagers renamed it "Pinky's Fall".
Thus my own birth year ended with a celebration on a warm sunny day, with lemonade and cake, as Grandpapa cut the ribbon. I explained to Mother that people had already walked and driven across, including the building contractors, so why bother with a ribbon. Mother replied with something about having a proper ceremony, but it seemed to a seven-year-old that most had come for the free ale and sandwiches.
I remember Gerry running down the stairs two at a time, a huge grin and a scream of delight followed the thrusting of a card into my hands. 'Read it, read it, I'm going, I'm sure Mama will allow it.' So I read aloud, Rose and Cook had come from the scullery to see what all the fuss was about.
'Mrs. Elizabeth Barton and Captain Barton request the presence of Miss Geraldine Tourney to their home in London for a week. If Mother is willing I should like to collect you next Saturday week. Your loving sister Beth. Please confirm by return post.' I was delighted for Gerry but inwardly sad for myself. I felt slighted, as she and I had often gone visiting as a pair with our parents. Gerry snatched back her invitation and ran into the sitting room to Mother. I trooped slowly after them and hung by the doorway hoping that, by some chance, Mother might say, 'Oh your brother must go too.' But she didn't. So a letter was posted that day to London and the following week Beth came by train to take Gerry away. I managed to slip away somewhat dejected with Spats prior to their leaving. We wandered up past the village and onto the ridge of the Down where the wind blew freely and bent the grasses in a swishing sound. Here we sat, until the engine whistle sounded and the train chugged its way over the river and toward the north carrying my sisters with it.
On our way back home we skirted the castle estate and came down the East Side of the Down to pass by Carkle House. A narrow twisting lane deeply shaded by the tall unkempt hedgerow of Beech, Sycamore and Chestnut served the house itself. I had not been so far east before and instead of meeting the lane and thus avoiding the house, I arrived by poor navigation through a rough shrubbery to the rear of the place. With Spats by my side, I felt it wise to apologise for my trespass before finding the lane and eventually returning home. So I proceeded to the rear doorway and stepping through mounds of broken furniture, sodden carpet and assorted broken utensils, managed to get to within hailing distance, when suddenly a stick bounced off my shoulder and a scream 'Get that animal off our property.' I looked up to see a black dressed figure hanging halfway out of a second floor window. Leaning over this dark figure was a second head, which shrieked 'GET OUT THIEF.' The first figure pushed the other head back and another stick landed close to Spats.
'Excuse me Miss Carkle but I came to apologise. Please don't throw any more sticks at Spats, he's Mother's dog' I shouted up to them as loudly as I could.
'I do believe its one of the Tourney boys from the Manor.' said one in her high pitched voice. 'Then throw him out, we don't want their sort about, thieves, ruffians the lot.' said the second head. 'I'm leaving now. I'm sorry to have bothered you.' I called out, but the two sisters had vanished, and I imagined them scurrying down to reprimand Spats and I, so I ran back over their refuse tip and around the side of the house to the front. Here the grass was easily a knee deep, a tired and malnourished old cow grazed in the comer. On I rushed with Spats at my side, to the weed coated drive and through the cracked stone portals with the wooden gate hanging by one hinge and broken in two. Once I had gained the lane I turned to look for my would be pursuers, but of the Miss Carkles there was no immediate sign. So I viewed the house somewhat coolly, it was a dilapidated three-story stone and flint mansion, with a steep roof pierced by four small windows. It was one of these that framed two white faces peering out at me. They had not chased me at all, merely run up another flight of stairs to the attic rooms. Strange I thought as I turned for home, but even so I was glad of Spats company. Old Ben would have been useful too.
I returned to the Manor Farm and recounted my story to Rose who shook her head and advised me to stay away from Carkle House in future. However I felt sorry for the old cow on their lawn, and for the aged sisters so frightened of an eight-year-old and his dog. I decided to speak to Father or Grandpapa about what should be done. I was going to bring the subject up at dinner but Father was busy rushing in and out as we were just beginning lambing. In the end Eddie and I were co-opted and went out every evening helping with the flocks. Sometimes a ewe refused to accept her lamb, and another might have lost hers still born, so Eddie and I would use the dead lambs wet fluid to cover the rejected lamb so trying to make a happy union. When we had run out of lambless mothers, we then had to stay around a ewe giving birth so that we could use the fluid and skin from the new born and wrap it around the reject, thus creating twins. Father missed Gerry enormously and made a rule that all had to be on hand for calving, lambing and harvest in future. When Gerry returned from London her enthusiasm for extolling its virtues ceased when she learnt she had missed the excitement of the lambing. She changed immediately much to Beth's delight and charged off to the fields to both examine and count up her new charges. That suited me for I had my older sister to myself for a while.
Beth listened intently to my tale, thought a little and then she sat me down by her. 'You see,' she said softly, 'Some years ago the sisters Carkle had a brother Sam Carkle. Their father died leaving them very well endowed with a large tract of land and investments to fund their lives. Alas the brother Sam went to London to live and squandered their inheritance through gambling and good living. By the time of Sam's death there were no funds left, only large debts. The sisters applied to our Grandpapa for assistance, they refused to take a loan or charity, and they would only sell the land they had. So Grandpapa bought it at its value, which was sadly low, it having been left to deteriorate. A surveyor did the valuation and Grandpapa paid the sisters both the valuation and ten percent more. Now the land has recovered by good farming and as you know Gerry's flock are now upon it, the sisters feel they were not dealt fairly by our family. In short they hold a grudge.'
'How did you know all this Beth.' I asked.
'Mother received some post with awful recriminations written, this was just before Gerry was born. Father tracked those anonymous letters back to Carkle House, they referred to settlement details in the sale contract known only to Grandpapa, our solicitor and the Carkles.'
'What shall we do about the old cow, she looked pretty sick to me?'
'I would pop up to Grandpapa and ask him to lend you his vet and Sergeant Smithers in case the sticks fly again.'
With this sound advice I sped up to the castle the following afternoon from school. I was in such a hurry that I came home the quick lane way, forgoing meeting Ma and Pa and the cygnets, who had now grown to full size but with their brown juvenile feathers still showing, and grey blue beaks.
I knocked once on the study door, and hearing the normal 'Go Away' I rushed in and sat on the leather visitor’s chair.
'Ah, an official visit by a grandson is it, and why the rush?'
'There is a cow sick at the Miss Carkles Grandpapa.
'Oh, and so?'
'We need to rescue it and make it better.
'Beth came to see us before she left for London, she did mention you had a bee in your bonnet about the Carkles. I said they were best left alone to their foolishness and spite.'
'But we have always put our animals welfare first and Beth says you do have an excellent vet.'
'Indeed Mr. Steadman is a first class veterinary surgeon, and your sister had advised me you would be up. Though I'm surprised it’s taken you so long. Not like you at all.'
'Lambing. And school.' I said.
'Very well, but you will not be accompanying either the vet or the Sergeant. Do I make myself clear? Good now come with me, we are off to the Orangery.' Grandpapa and I walked through the hall, down the steps and along the terrace.
'Thank you Grandpapa, for the cow.'
'No need, one good turn deserves another.'
I looked up to him with a blank expression but he hurried me into the building full of his prized citrus trees. It was warm inside. He pointed, and I saw an opening with a grill let into the wall. He then beckoned me outside, closed the glass door and proceeded partly down a paved path, then turned to walk across one of the flowerbeds. He pointed with his stick and I saw a huge fired clay tube in a deep ditch coming from the Orangery. 'Goes down to the Compost heap.' Grandpapa beckoned downwards with his stick. 'Big "Y" junction and a copper box affair take up the heat saved me a fortune in heating. Mr Twerton designed it himself based on your idea.'
Later that weekend I heard from Stumps that the cow had to be put down, Sergeant Smithers asked him to take the tractor to pick up and bury the carcass. As the Carkle sisters had not blamed him no sticks were thrown, but they did agree to receive eight sheep with their lambs as some sought of compensation. Apparently it had been Fathers and Gerry's idea. Anyhow Gerry said it was a pity that all that Carkle grass was not being utilised. And eight was my birth age. It all seemed satisfactory.
My second eldest sister Jane had by now been living with Great Aunt Agatha and came down to visit us with an escort on her arm. Gerry and I took an immediate dislike to him. Jane had arrived to find mother out visiting and Father down at the piggery. She invited her beau to join her for a walk to the pigs. He declined, as it was for too filthy to get so close to swine, besides the mud would spoil his shoes. So Jane quickly changed into her riding suit and borrowed Mother's horse Dot to go and find father. Needless to say we were left with her beau. Eddie invited him to see his collection of butterflies, but Beau said that hobby was for ladies. Eddie disappeared to find Cook for some tea for the visitor. That left Gerry and I sitting by one another in the sitting room with Mr.Bolter sitting in the chair opposite.
'Please Mr. Bolter, what do you do sir?' I asked politely to get the conversation going. In a way I thought Jane a bit rude leaving her guest and rushing off to the pigs.
'Not a lot,' he replied.
'A lot of what?' asked Gerry.
'Mainly horses.'
'Oh,' said I much more interested, a jockey, a trainer perhaps 'What do you do with horses, we have two Shires and three hunters.'
'I bet on them, I wont be interested in your nags, only the racing type for me.'
'Do you like our sister Jane.' asked Gerry getting down to brass tacks.
'I suppose she's acceptable, after all she is a Duchess's companion. That sort of thing counts from where I come from.
'She's also the Earl of Tourney's granddaughter,' said Gerry haughtily. 'Presumably then one can expect a reasonable dowry.' said he, just as Father walked through the doorway with Eddie carrying the tea tray.
The repast was carried out in a cold silence; even Mother's eventual arrival failed to raise Father's humour. Jane was requested to stay the night whilst Mr. Bolter was driven in the trap to the station. I overheard Father telling Henry in the stable to hit every pothole he could find. Needless to say we never saw Mr. Bolter again.
Which leads to my own romance. It was while Ted Wallis and I were having our lunch on the steps overlooking the school playground. It was warm a wonderful June day; Laura Bailey and Clare Marshall were spinning around chanting an old song. First they would spin one way, then the other their bright summer dresses swirling about them as they laughed and sang. Ted turned to me munching an apple 'I like Clare Marshall, I'll have her and you can have Laura.' I turned and said 'yes'. Then I followed Laura more closely and a prickly sensation rose in my neck. I turned my attention to Clare and the feeling subsided. 'Yes Laura will do very nicely, can we walk them home do you think?' I admit that Ted did all the asking and after school we walked them home. We discovered they lived the other side of Amblemead some three miles away. We walked them to the crossroads Clare turned to Ted and kissed him. 'We get picked up here,' she said. Laura made no such move in my direction and I really was somewhat relieved. I liked looking at her true, but actually a kiss I'm sure not. But she took my hand and gave it a squeeze and my mouth became quite dry. An adult in a dray cart soon came along and took the girls aboard.
We walked to the crossroads for some months, but with Laura having a lift meant I still had time to see over the swans. Later into autumn the adult came directly to the school to collect the girls, and for the time being our afternoons together were ended. Later Laura said her parents didn't approve with her associating from those up the hill. Mine invited her to tea together with Ted and Clare. Alas, Ted and Clare arrived without Laura who was indisposed. It was a sad tea indeed, but Henry let me ride with him when he drove them back to their homes. When he had dropped Clare, I gazed around Amblemead and suddenly saw a happy sight, there was Laura hanging out of a cottage window blowing a kiss in my direction.
'That your girl?' Henry asked. And I nodded, so proud especially when he said, 'She's a fine smile on her and I likes her looks, fancy her at the window, she must have been waiting hours.'
I think it was that statement by Henry that set my heart thumping, Laura actually loved me. And so my eighth year came to an end, an eventful and happy one, which was just as well for my ninth heralded sadness and hurt for us all.
CHAPTER FIVE. ENDINGS AND BEGINNINGS.
One freezing night in early March, Lady Manners failed to return from her evening walk in the garden with Mason, Grandpapa’s butler. Apparently he sought Mr.Twerton’s help and between the two of them failed to prise her ladyship from out of the shrubbery. Lady Manners happened to be Grandmama’s small King Charles spaniel. They both ventured back in the castle and spoke to one of the live in maids, who immediately rushed upstairs to Grandmama to raise the alarm. Of course she was upset at hearing of the dogs disappearance and disobedience at not coming when called. Grandmama, wrapping a shawl about, her sped outside into the cold night air and searched for her lost dog without success. Grandpapa bade her come inside out of the cold but she resolutely refused until her spaniel was found safe. Mr.Twerton continued searching the grounds whilst Mason hurried inside to fetch a warm coat for Grandmama. Alas she had followed her own course and when Mr.Twerton eventually recovered the dog, Grandmama had herself disappeared. Ultimately Grandpapa, who had joined the search, had sent Blazer their German Shepherd to find her. Thus Blazer found Grandmama down by the lily pond coughing and holding her chest. Grandpapa had her immediately taken to her room to get warm, but she resisted even his urgings until Mr.Twerton had produced a dejected looking Lady Manners held firmly in his arms.
Grandmama’s illness grew worse, and she was urged to go to a hospital in Salisbury to recover. But she refused to leave her beloved home, her husband and her spaniel. Grandpapa had a number of specialists visit his wife, and two nurses were employed to care for her. But sadly she had caught pneumonia. On the Saturday we were ushered into her bedroom and told not to cause her any distress, but she beckoned me to the side of her bed. She spoke softly so only I and Grandpapa could hear. ‘Bring