Chapter 24

Abby wondered if she had overstepped the bounds, until James suddenly began to speak.

"In many ways I was only playing at being an Officer, I viewed it as part of my training really to become Landlord here. Oh it was fun and I enjoyed it, that is until the Falklands happened. You know it is rather exciting to enjoy that sort of life, believing that you will never have to put into practice the skills you are being taught. Many Officers can go through their entire Army career and never hear a shot fired in anger. I thought that would be my situation. Seven years in the Army, and then back here." He shook his head. "Unfortunately it didn't work out that way. I hadn't had the time to enjoy the Captains pips on my shoulder before I was off to the Falklands. It was Cold, Wet and thoroughly uncomfortable, and if that wasn't enough the Argies were firing at us!" He was quiet for a while, and then said softly.

"I killed a man you know." Abby not understanding just commented.

"I would have thought that was part of War." James shook his head.

"It is unfortunately, but usually you are detached from the deed. You send a bullet on its way and that does the killing. No, I actually killed a man, no! A boy with my own hands. I stuck a bayonet in his stomach, and watched him die. I had his blood all over my hands. He was only young, couldn't have been more than eighteen! What in Hell was he doing there? He shouldn't have been there." James stopped suddenly, his face a picture of misery.

Abby leaned across and took his hand, suddenly understanding the misery and horror. James carried on as if he was speaking to himself. "It was when we moved in on Goose Green, we had to be as quiet as possible as we moved into position; a shot would have told the garrison that we were there. My Company was creeping through this outcrop, rock, scrub and bush, when suddenly he was there, I just reacted. Afterwards I wondered if he was trying to surrender. Sometimes when I look back, I am sure he was trying to surrender. Then at other times that he wasn't ... I just don't know. My Company Sergeant had put his hand over the boy's mouth to stop him crying out, stomach wounds are very painful. I could see the agony on his face and tears running down from his eyes. He just looked up at me and you could see the question, 'why? Why me?' When the boy died my Sergeant just said to me 'you or him Boss', and carried on. James voice faded away and he just sat there, clinging to Abby's hand. Abby heard herself say without thought.

"Well I for one am glad it wasn't you."

If James had heard he didn't react, they both remained still, waiting for the misery to pass. Eventually James stirred his voice now a little less strained.

"I talked a lot with Sam when I got back. He had served as a sniper during the Second World War; sometimes the Army does manage to get the right peg in the right hole. He helped a lot, but as he said he had never killed close up, all he ever saw was a uniform, no details of a face, so it was impersonal." He moved and lessened his grip on Abby's hand, but kept the contact. "Thanks for the comfort. I haven't gone through that for quite some time."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked about it." James shook his head.

"You are a friend, you should know." He paused, "Sam is the only one who knew about this, and now you. It's not something I would like to be common knowledge." Abby shook her head.

"It stays with me, you know that. Why was Sam the right peg in the right hole?"

"Countryman. He had used a shotgun from an early age, knew how to move about the land without drawing attention to himself, and how to lay up in a thicket for hours if need be without moving. All essential to be a good sniper." Abby nodded, it was simple really, but not the sort of thing that most people would think about.

The Sun was now getting quite warm, and their position so comfortable that Abby lay back enjoying the peace and quiet. After a while she realised that it wasn't so quiet, used as she was to City life where noise is a constant background she expected the country to be quiet, now she knew that it wasn't. She could hear the crunch as Cassie and Jason cropped the grass, the faint buzz of insects flying around; the flutter of birds grown bold by the thought that there could be crumbs for them, and faintly on the breeze the ripple of the river. She lay contentedly, only occasionally sitting up to sip at her wine which although now warm tasted delicious anyway. James had moved away a little and was methodically packing away the remains of the picnic. She watched through half-closed eyes for a while and was prompted to comment.

"You are very tidy you know, Was that the Army training?" she remarked. James looked up.

"Yes and no. It's also the Country Code. All this paper and waxed cartons have no place in the country. Cows would eat it, because it smells good, but it wouldn't do them any good. Remember Sam's cow Jesse?" Abby nodded. "The most likely cause of her discomfort would have been something like this, left innocently by some visitor, but causing trouble all the same." He picked up the bottle of wine and held it up squinting through the glass.

"There's some wine left, shall we finish it?"

"Good idea." Abby sais with a grin. She held out her glass. "You know it was interesting listening to you talking about your family history. I was fascinated by how they kept out of the limelight and prospered. But how do you know they kept a low profile?"

"It is as much a question of what isn't there, rather than what is there. The local histories of the time mention quite a few names, who aren't around now. But don't mention the Comberfords, who are. So I make the assumption that it was this keeping their light under a bushel attitude that ensured survival." Abby nodded.

"You still do that, don't you?"

He looked curiously at her. Abby went on to explain.

"Well in all this time you have never mentioned any strong political adherences, nor any religious ones. Have you never been interested?"

"There is a very simple answer to that. No! No political views except that they are all a little dodgy. And as for Religion. I was not brought up as anything, so I have no views on that score. Perhaps my family became non-religious as a way of surviving, go with the flow, say the words, but you don't have to mean them. That sort of thing. The West Country was once very Catholic, but that was at the time of the Tudors and Stuarts. For the last two hundred years or so it has been Wesleyan in the main. But if you talk to a few round here you will find that they tend to be Anglican mixed with Wesleyan, but not so much you would notice." The conversation faded away and Abby relaxed.

She may have dozed a while, for it seemed only a moment before she realised that James had packed everything away. Cassie and Jason were standing at the field gate following his movements as if they sensed that the journey was soon to begin once more. Abby didn't move, quite content with the warmth, and the rest she was enjoying until James asked.

"Are you going to lie there all day?" Abby stuck her tongue out at him.

"You were the one who recommended that I should take things a little easier, so don't get stroppy if I follow your advice." Without looking she knew that smile was on his face.

"I see gone native have you?" Abby roused herself and stood up. Grasses had stuck to her back, and she vigorously brushed them off.

"Mary would be ecstatic if she saw these." She bantered. "She'll put two and two together and make at least six." James restored to his normal humour grinned delightedly.

"Yep, and the phone line to Mavis would be red hot." Abby laughed.

"Is the country always like this, I mean gossip?"

"Of course. Everyone is an object of interest, it's not malicious, but there has to be something more than crops and weather to talk about, so you coming here has been a welcome break from the normal gossip. You would be surprised at the fanciful stories circulating about you."

"Me!"

"Yes, you are new, and a bit of a mystery, so in consequence you will get talked about. As I said nothing malicious."

Abby thought that over. She found a certain humour in the situation.

"How nice to be thought of as a mystery woman." Abby grinned. "And what are they saying about you and me?"

"Oh not much. Just that you had come down here to get away from an unhappy relationship, or that you are writing a novel, or that you are trying to buy the estate."

"Mary and Mavis don't subscribe to those ideas." Abby said dryly. James agreed with her.

"Ah well Mary and Mavis have their own gossip, which they do not share with anyone else." Whilst this banter was going on, James had released the horses from the field.

Jason immediately broke away and walked over to Abby, snuffling at her pockets. James called across.

"He wants his treat, here!" He searched in the saddle bag and found an apple, with his pocket knife he sliced it in two, and gave both halves to Abby. Jason quickly nudged Abby's hand, and she fed him his treat. James had done the same for Cassie, so with both the horses happy, they mounted, and resumed the journey.

The way now entered the woodland, the track bed curving left and then right but always on a constant downgrade. With the trees in full leaf the area was gloomy, with only splashes of dappled sun creating islands of brilliance. Apart from Bird calls and the rustle of the breeze in the foliage it was quiet. Even the river could not be heard.

"Are we still on your land?"

"Yes, for a while. We shall leave it in about a mile."

"About a mile?"

"Yes. The boundary isn't marked, but I shall know when we are on the Crown property." Abby was used to a system where everyone knew to the inch where their property began and ended.

"Why isn't the boundary marked?"

"Little point as this is not land that can be rented. Too wet for anything but woodland. We will fell trees from time to time, which gives the new growth room to grow, but apart from timber that is it."

"It's very gloomy here." Abby observed. James nodded.

"It is now. When the railway was running it was much more open. The engines would have worked hard coming up this bit, so sparks would often set little fires in the undergrowth. Too wet for them ever to become big blazes, but it did clear the ground either side of the track."

Another reminder for Abby of how it was when her Grandfather was alive. Yet one more piece in the Jigsaw. She came back to the subject of boundaries.

"If you don't mark the boundary, and don't have fences, anyone can walk on to your property at any time, can't they?"

"Yes they can. There is nothing here for them to steal, and they can do little harm. Country people have little objection to people wandering over their land, so long as they observe the Country code. Don't light fires, don't do damage, and take your rubbish home with you."