The Lost Years

by E.V. Thompson

Genres: Historical Fiction; Sagas; War & Military; Historical Romance

Synopsis

Cornwall, 1914 - Perys Tremayne arrives at St Austell to stay with relatives at the ancient family home of Heligan House. But this is not a social visit: Perys is hoping to use his family connections to start a military career with the Duke of Cornwall Light Infantry. Perys is a Tremayne, but only just: his childhood was coloured by the disgrace of his illegitimacy. While family tensions continue to strain, Perys finds friendship with the locals, in particular farm girl Annie Rowe. Annie, though, has long been the subject of a tacit agreement between her parents and neighbours the Rowes, that one day she would marry their son Jimmy. And when Jimmy is badly injured in the trenches at Ypres, Annie feels unable to refuse. It seems that Perys and Annie are fated to remain apart, but in this war to end all wars, one can never be sure what is to happen next . . .

Release date: February 20, 2014

Publisher: Sphere

Print pages: 512

Sample

The train which brought Perys Tremayne from London to the Cornish town of St Austell in the summer of 1914 was painted in the gleaming chocolate and cream livery of the Great Western Railway. A brass plate curving around a wheel arch of the polished green locomotive proudly proclaimed that this was the City of Truro.

Almost nineteen years of age, Perys stepped down from the carriage dragging a large leather suitcase after him. He glanced uncertainly along the long platform. The Tremayne family had large landholdings in Cornwall, but it was his first visit to the area.

‘Can I take your suitcase, sir?’ A uniformed porter put the question to him.

‘Yes … no!’ Perys contradicted himself and hurriedly explained, ‘I’m expecting to be met by someone from Heligan.’

‘Ah! You’ll be the young Master Tremayne. Martin Bray, the Heligan coachman, is waiting for you farther along the platform. He and I were talking before the train came in. He said I was to look out for you.’

As he was talking, the porter relieved Perys of the heavy suitcase. Picking it up with difficulty, he began walking in a lop-sided fashion along the platform towards a liveried coachman who was hurrying to meet them.

When porter and coachman met, the suitcase changed hands once again. As the porter pocketed the coin Perys handed him and touched his cap, the coachman said, ‘I’m Martin, one of Mister Tremayne’s coachmen. I trust you’ve had a pleasant journey, Master Perys?’

‘It was quite enjoyable,’ Perys replied, ‘but I didn’t expect to have a carriage here to meet me!’

‘Ah well, you chose a good day to arrive. As you might know, you have an aunt and her two daughters staying at Heligan at the moment. They’ve had dresses altered for a ball and I was told to pick them up while I was in Saint Austell. They’re in the luggage box of the carriage. I’d have collected them in the pony cart – and you with ’em – but it’s looking as though it’s going to rain. Your aunt didn’t want to risk getting the dresses spoiled, so I was told to bring the light carriage.’

Perys had been unaware that other members of the Tremayne family were staying at Heligan House, and might have been offended by the presumption that dresses were more important than he, but the thought never occurred to him.

In the eyes of the Tremaynes they would have assumed more importance. Perys belonged to a branch of the family only just close enough to the squires of Heligan to be acknowledged as possessing a right to the ancient family name. What was even worse, his mother had committed the unforgivable sin of loving another cousin rather too much.

The family had frowned upon their increasing affection for each other, and they planned an elopement. Unfortunately, fate was to play a decisive role on behalf of the family. The cousin Perys’s mother intended marrying died in a tragic shooting accident. Eight months later, Perys was born into a life that would always be coloured by the disgrace his mother had brought upon the family.

When Perys was eight years of age his mother died of lung fever, but the shame did not die with her. It was transferred to her son.

His grandparents became his guardians, but they were in the habit of spending a great deal of the year travelling in Europe. They had no wish to assume responsibility for their illegitimate grandson. He was sent away to boarding school, first to a small establishment in Sussex, run by a clergyman, then to a minor public school in Oxfordshire.

Perys quite enjoyed the clergyman’s school. He was quick to learn and the cleric’s wife was kind-hearted and motherly. The public school was far less pleasant. Somehow, details of his birth were discovered and the other boys referred to him as ‘the bastard’.

As a result of the bullying he received, Perys learned to fight – and fight well. He became a skilful and determined boxer and, in due course, the bullying and name-calling ceased. Unfortunately, by this time he had earned a reputation as ‘unruly’ and was classified as ‘unable to relate to his fellow pupils’. It meant he was punished far more often than any other boy in the school.

Only in his final year, when there was no one remaining who would dare take him on, did things improve and he was left to enjoy his studies.

It was then Perys showed that, despite all the problems he had suffered, his schooling had not been wasted. Albeit grudgingly, the headmaster conceded that Perys had finally ‘settled down and showed considerable promise as a scholar’. He recommended to Perys’s grandparents that he should be allowed to go on to university in order to develop the promise he was belatedly exhibiting.

Perys’s grandfather had other ideas. He and his ailing wife intended to take up permanent residence in Italy. Perys had become almost a stranger to them. They had no wish for his company between university terms. Furthermore, they were determined to waste no more money on his education. It was time for him to make his own way in the world.

It was decided he should join the army.

Because Hugh Tremayne of Heligan, a distant relative of Perys, had close associations with the Duke of Cornwall Light Infantry, Cornwall seemed a good place from which Perys should embark upon a military career. They acted upon their decision right away.

‘You’ve come to Cornwall to join the army, I believe, Master Perys?’

The coachman put the question as Perys helped him to lift the heavy suitcase onto a rack above the luggage box at the rear of the coach. There was room for it inside the compartment, but the coachman would not risk crushing the carefully boxed ballgowns.

‘I think that’s what’s been planned for me,’ Perys agreed.

‘You should do well, Master Perys. You belong to a family with a proud military tradition. My grandfather was very fond of telling how he watched the brave charge of the Light Brigade at Balaklava in the Crimean War. Arthur Tremayne, uncle of the present squire, was leading his men in the charge that day. Grandpa always thought it the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen. Said it made him proud to be British. He was even more proud to be able to say he was a near neighbour of Captain Arthur.’

Perys had studied details of the battle and was aware of the Tremayne involvement. A misunderstood order had been responsible for an ill-conceived charge in which more than six hundred cavalrymen rode to almost certain death for no good reason. Almost three hundred of the men became casualties, together with as many good horses. The charge had been an act of crass stupidity.

He said nothing of his thoughts to the coachman.

‘…I had an uncle who fought in the Boer War with the Cornwall regiment too, sir.’ Suddenly less enthusiastic, Martin added, ‘He was killed at Paardeberg. My aunt never got over losing him.’

Perys murmured a few suitably sympathetic words and Martin returned his thoughts to the present. ‘We’d best be on our way, sir. There’s a nasty storm in the offing.’

Checking the luggage was secured, the coachman saw Perys safely seated inside the carriage. A few moments later the two-horse vehicle trundled up the steep slope from the station yard, heading for Heligan House, some six miles distant.

Rain was already falling by the time the carriage reached the outskirts of the town of St Austell. Suddenly, the coachman brought the vehicle to an abrupt halt.

Climbing to the ground, he opened the carriage door and said, ‘We’ve just passed my sister Annie, Master Perys. She’s on her way back from market to my father’s farm. It’s at Tregassick, just up beside Heligan. I think this rain will become very heavy before long. Would you mind if I allowed her to ride with me on the outside of the carriage? It would get her home a lot quicker than if she walked.’

‘By all means let her ride with us,’ Perys said, ‘but not on the outside of the carriage. She’d be soaked by the time she arrived. She can come in here with me.’

For a moment it seemed Martin might put up an argument against Perys’s suggestion, but it was raining harder now and he wanted to don the waterproof coat kept in the box beneath the coachman’s seat. Besides, as Annie would be dropped off before they reached Heligan, he was unlikely to be in trouble from those at the great house.

‘Annie, young Master Tremayne says you can ride in the coach with him. Quickly now, get in before the inside gets wet. It’s tipping with rain already … No, not with the basket. I’ll tie that on the back.’

Moments later, a young woman scrambled inside the carriage. She had been sheltering beneath a tree so was not too wet, but the carriage had come along just in time. As the door closed behind her, rain began beating a noisy tattoo on the roof of the vehicle.

The girl was hatless, but a shake of her head was sufficient to bring a semblance of order to her windswept hair.

Looking at Perys with a directness that belied the servility of her words, she said, ‘It’s very kind of you to allow me to ride in your carriage. Thank you, sir.’

At that moment Martin whipped the horses into motion and Perys moved quickly to catch Annie as she was flung from her seat by the sudden and violent movement.

He caught her in a full embrace and when she recovered and sat back in her seat she was decidedly flustered. ‘I’m sorry … that took me by surprise.’

‘I’m not complaining,’ Perys said, astonishing himself with his boldness. ‘It’s a good job I was here to catch you.’

‘Yes … thank you.’ Reaching inside a patch pocket sewn on the front of her dress, she pulled out a small bag. ‘I bought some sweets in town. Would you like one?’

He took a boiled sweet from her and for a while they sat facing each other, enjoying the sharp taste and saying nothing.

It was Annie who broke the silence. ‘Martin called you Master Tremayne, but I don’t think I’ve seen you before. I thought I’d met everyone from the big house, our farm being so close.’

‘Then you’ll know more about the Tremaynes than I do. I’m a distant relative. So distant I’ve never before been to Heligan and have met none of the family who live there. To tell you the truth, I’m more than a little nervous about the whole business.’

‘Then why are you going there now … sir?’

It was an impertinent question and for a few moments Annie held her breath, in anticipation of a sharp response, but Perys did not seem to have taken offence.

‘I suppose it’s because I don’t have anywhere else to go…’

She thought he sounded almost apologetic, but he had not finished talking.

‘…Both my parents died many years ago. My grandparents became my guardians, but they’ve spent much of their lives abroad. Now my grandmother isn’t too well and they are going to live abroad permanently. My grandfather has decided I should join the army. Hugh Tremayne is my great-uncle, albeit twice removed – or something similar – and it seems he has some influence with the regiment base here in Cornwall. He has agreed to arrange an interview for me. If I am accepted I will become an officer in the Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry.’

Perys stated the facts without any display of enthusiasm and Annie felt a moment’s sympathy for her travelling companion. At the same time she wondered why his grandparents had apparently not wanted him to spend at least some time abroad with them.

She did not voice the question, but was aware there must be a great deal this young man had not told her. On the other hand, there was no reason why he should have told her anything … but he was speaking again.

‘Do you mind not calling me “sir”, Annie? My name is Perys.’

She was uncertain how to reply to this request, so she said, ‘It’s a very unusual name.’

‘It’s an old Tremayne name,’ Perys explained. ‘I believe the first recorded member of the family, some hundreds of years ago, was named Perys.’

The carriage had reached an exposed expanse of road now, and rain, driven by a strong wind, rattled the glass in the doors.

‘Your brother will be getting very wet,’ commented Perys, sympathetically.

‘He’s wearing a stout waterproof coat,’ declared Annie. ‘He’s better off than he’d be if he was at work on the farm.’

‘Is your father the owner of the farm?’ Perys queried.

‘No, he’s a tenant farmer. The farm belongs to one of the Tremaynes, although it’s administered by the Heligan Estate. Almost all the land around Heligan belongs to one or other of the Tremaynes. They sometimes think they own the people, too.’

It was an unguarded remark; Annie had momentarily forgotten to whom she was talking. With some dismay, she attempted to make amends.

‘Mind you, Squire Tremayne never bothers us, although he takes an interest in whatever Pa is doing on the farm.’

Her initial comment had not passed unnoticed. To her embarrassment, Perys pursued the matter. ‘Then who in the family does bother you?’

‘No one. I’m sorry, I spoke out of turn.’

‘Look, Annie, I know no one in the family here in Cornwall. To be perfectly honest with you, I would be grateful for anything you are able to tell me about Heligan and the people who live there. I don’t even know how many Tremaynes are there at the moment – but I am sure you do.’

Once again Annie’s sympathy went out to Perys. If all he said was true, then, despite his family connections, he was virtually alone in the world. Yet she decided to be cautious in what she said to him.

‘Well, although the house is owned by the squire, Hugh Tremayne, he spends a lot of time abroad and he’s not at the house right now…’

She went on to describe those members of the family who were currently staying at the house. It seemed there was one of Hugh Tremayne’s nephews, a couple of years older than Perys, and another relative with her two daughters, for whom Martin had collected the dresses.

Perys formed the opinion that Annie did not particularly like the nephew. He tried to question her about him in more detail, but apart from saying his name was Edward she would not be drawn further.

He would have pressed the matter, but there was a sudden shout from Martin. Heaving on the reins, he applied the brakes of the carriage at the same time, with such force that the coach slewed across the narrow country road. This time it was Perys’s turn to be thrown from his seat, to Annie’s side of the vehicle.

‘What the…?’ As the carriage came to a standstill, Perys regained his balance and looked out of one of the windows.

He was startled to see a thoroughly soaked and bedraggled young boy standing in the roadway, his clothes plastered with mud. He was gesticulating wildly to Martin and shouting, the words lost amidst the din of wind and rain.

Beyond him, on the far side of a very sharp bend, the road appeared to be blocked by a landslide that had undoubtedly been caused by the exceptionally heavy rain.

‘What is it?’ Annie asked Perys. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘The road’s blocked. There’s a boy out there. He seems very excited about something. Stay where you are, I’ll try to find out what’s happening.’

The door opened suddenly and a very wet Martin leaned inside the carriage. ‘There’s been a landslip, Master Perys. Young Wesley Dunn and his father, Henry, were on their way from Mevagissey to Saint Austell with a handcart loaded with fish to put on the London train. The landslip caught them and it’s carried the cart and Henry off the road and down the slope towards the river. He’s down there somewhere, buried with cart and fish beneath tons of earth.’

Behind him, the tearful boy called, ‘Please! Do something. Pa’s down there…’

When Perys jumped to the ground from the carriage he was able to see more clearly the trail of devastation left by the landslide. It had swept from the wooded ground rising high above one side of the road, and down a steep incline on the other, carrying trees, rocks and earth with it. Dangerously close to the river at the bottom of the slope the wheel of a cart protruded at an angle from a great heap of mud and debris.

‘Let’s get down there,’ Perys said to Martin. Without waiting for a reply he began scrambling and sliding down the landslide into the field.

It was impossible to maintain a footing on the rain-sodden earth, and Perys came dangerously close to careering on, into the river. He stopped himself only by grabbing at the exposed portion of the wheel. Of Henry Dunn there was no sign.

‘Help me dig away the earth around the cart,’ Perys said, when Martin joined him, somewhat more cautiously, ‘but be careful, there are some large boulders here and the whole lot seems very unstable.’

He and Martin began digging away with their bare hands, joined a few moments later by Annie and the boy.

Perys suggested Annie should return to the carriage, but she declared she had no intention of sitting doing nothing while they dug for the missing fisherman. He did not argue with her.

Soon the rescue party was joined by a couple of men who had been walking on the road. The rain had eased considerably now, but everyone involved was soaked through and plastered in sticky, cloying earth.

Suddenly, Annie shouted to the others. Digging at the front of the cart she had uncovered an arm – and it moved!

The handcart had landed on one of the large rocks when it came to rest, trapping the upper part of the man’s body in the space between cart and ground, his legs pinned down by earth and smaller rocks.

Within fifteen minutes of her discovery they were pulling the fisherman clear. He appeared to have a badly broken leg and was in great pain – but he was alive. His young son, Wesley, was weeping, relief mixed with anguish. He had been convinced his father must have died in the landslide.

‘What do we do with him now?’

The question was put by Martin when the rescue party reached the carriage with their burden.

‘We take him to the nearest hospital,’ Perys said. ‘Is there one in Saint Austell?’

The coachman nodded.

‘Then what are we waiting for? Turn the carriage around and we’ll be on our way.’

The carriage carrying Perys Tremayne to Heligan arrived at the great house more than three hours later than expected – and Edward Tremayne was furious!

A petulant young man of perhaps twenty-three years of age, he made no attempt to welcome Perys. Instead, he directed a tirade of near-hysterical invective at the unfortunate coachman.

‘Where the devil have you been? I was due at Caerhays more than two hours ago to partner Sir Philip Carminow at bridge. They’ll not be able to play without me. You’ll have ruined the whole evening for everyone. I’ve a damned good mind to dismiss you on the spot.’

‘That’s hardly fair!’ Perys stepped down from the carriage and confronted the second cousin he had never met before today. ‘It’s not Martin’s fault we are so late, there was an emergency…’

He did not feel it necessary to add that the carriage had taken Annie as far as the lane leading to her farm en route to Heligan. On the way she had tried to remove some of the mud from Perys’s coat, but without any discernible success.

‘No one is asking you for an explanation,’ Edward retorted angrily. Looking Perys up and down with increasing distaste, he added, ‘Good God, man, look at you! Has Martin allowed you inside the carriage in that state? It will need to be thoroughly cleaned before anyone can ride in it. Dammit! That’s the final straw! Martin … you are dismissed. Don’t dare to show your face at Heligan again.’

‘Now just a minute!’ Perys stepped forward and again spoke heatedly in defence of the unfortunate coachman. ‘You can’t dismiss him out of hand like that. You haven’t even asked him to explain why he’s late.’

Edward seemed to swell with indignant anger. ‘Don’t you tell me what I can or cannot do. I’ll not take orders from a bastard.’

Perys paled. It was a term that had not been applied to him for so long he had forgotten how much it hurt. Recovering quickly, he said, ‘I’ll not stand by and see a man dismissed for stopping to save another man’s life – especially by someone throwing a tantrum simply because he’s late for a card game.’

‘How dare you speak to me in such a way!’ Edward’s face was contorted with rage now. ‘Great-Uncle Hugh will hear of this – not that he’ll be surprised to learn you’ve taken the part of a servant. It’s in the breeding. The family has always wondered whether your father was one of the servants rather than your mother’s cousin…’

Perys had heard enough. Taking a couple of rapid paces forward he swung a punch that connected with Edward’s nose and sent him staggering backwards until he tripped and fell to the ground among some shrubbery, demolishing a fuchsia bush in the process.

‘What on earth is going on here?’

The shocked question came from a tall, distinguished woman. She had emerged from the house too late to see Perys strike his cousin, but had witnessed Edward’s disappearance into the shrubbery.

Clawing his way out of the bushes, Edward cried out plaintively, ‘He hit me. The b— Cousin Perys struck me.’ Dabbing at his nose, his hand came away bloody. ‘I’m bleeding, Aunt Maude. I think my nose is broken.’

Turning to Perys, Maude Tremayne looked sternly at him, taking in his wet and muddy state. ‘If you are Perys, it would seem you are already living up to your reputation, young man. I think you have some explaining to do.’

‘I can tell you exactly what happened, Mother.’

A younger and much prettier version of the older woman appeared in the doorway of the house, glaring at the bleeding Edward.

‘What do you know of this, Morwenna?’ her mother demanded.

‘I had my bedroom window open and heard everything. Edward was furious because Martin was late bringing the carriage back from Saint Austell. When Cousin Perys tried to explain that they were late because Martin had helped to save someone’s life, Edward called him a horrible name then told Martin he was dismissed. When Cousin Perys protested, Edward said some awful things about Perys’s mother. Things no gentleman could possibly accept – and no lady should overhear. Cousin Perys hit Edward, and if he has a broken nose as a result, it is no more than he deserves. Had he said such things about you I would have had no hesitation in taking a riding crop to him.’

Edward had been taken aback by the unexpected intervention of Morwenna and he now stood his ground uncertainly.

‘I think you had better go inside and have someone staunch that bleeding, Edward.’ Maude Tremayne made it sound like a suggestion, but the look accompanying her words left him in no doubt it was a command.

He obeyed without question.

Ignoring Perys for the moment, Maude said to the coachman, ‘Were you able to collect our dresses, Martin?’

‘Yes, ma’am, they are safe in the luggage box of the carriage. Shall I fetch them for you?’

‘Not in the state you are in! We will not risk them becoming soiled. I will have one of the house servants bring them inside. In the meantime I suggest you go off and get yourself cleaned up.’

Instead of hurrying away, Martin remained, looking at her uncertainly. Maude asked, sharply, ‘Is there something else?’

‘Yes, ma’am, Master Edward said I was dismissed.’

‘Master Edward has no authority over Heligan servants. I shall ask Master Perys to tell me what occurred to make you late returning with the carriage. If you were indeed delayed because you helped to save a life there will be no question of dismissal. However, you will say nothing to the other servants about what has just happened, do you understand?’

‘Yes, ma’am, and thank you. Thank you too, Master Perys.’

As Martin hurried away, Maude looked critically at Perys. ‘You need to clean up too, but first I would like you to tell me all that happened on your journey from Saint Austell. It would appear you have had a most unfortunate introduction to Heligan.’

Later that evening Perys came downstairs to dinner. He had bathed and was wearing clothes from his suitcase, hurriedly ironed for him by a young housemaid.

When the maid had returned the clothes to him it was made clear that despite Maude Tremayne’s warning to Martin, the house servants were well aware of what had occurred outside the house. It was a lesson to him in the close relationships that existed among the servants.

After hanging up his clothes, the maid, who had told Perys her name was Polly, looked at him rather shyly before saying, ‘It was very kind of you to take Martin’s part when Master Edward wanted to dismiss him, sir.’

Surprised and a little concerned that she should know about the incident, it was a moment before he recovered sufficiently to say, ‘I could hardly allow him to be dismissed when much of what he did was on my instructions, Polly. Besides, I consider his conduct warrants a reward, not punishment.’

‘He has been rewarded, sir. Mistress Maude sent for him and told him that the master would be proud of the way he had behaved, then gave him five guineas.’

Maude Tremayne rose in Perys’s estimation. ‘Good! He thoroughly deserved it.’ Looking at the girl who was a pretty young thing, he asked, ‘Is Martin a special friend of yours?’

The girl blushed. ‘We’ve known each other since we were small, sir. When I lost my parents it was Martin who got me a live-in post at Heligan. We’re going to marry as soon as we’ve saved enough money.’

‘I’m happy for both of you, Polly,’ Perys said. ‘I’ve no doubt Martin will make you a very good husband.’

‘I think so too, sir … and thank you again.’

Perys was left with the thought that if he had made an enemy of Edward Tremayne, he had gained friends among the servants.

Passing the open door of the lounge as he sought the dining-room, he discovered that not all the Tremayne family were as ill-disposed towards him as Edward.

‘Perys! Come in here and join us.’

Morwenna called to him from the lounge. In response, Perys entered the room cautiously. Morwenna had said, ‘Join us.’ It was possible Edward was in the room with her.

He need not have been concerned. The only other person in the room was a girl of about sixteen who so resembled Morwenna and her mother that it came as no surprise when she was introduced to him as Arabella, Morwenna’s younger sister.

The young girl greeted Perys warmly, saying forthrightly, ‘So you are second cousin Perys! I expected the person who gave Edward a bloody nose to be much bigger.’

‘Arabella! We will not talk about that,’ warned Morwenna.

‘Why not? It was you who said somebody should have done it years ago. Edward is thoroughly obnoxious, as we all know.’

‘It might be as well if we make talk of Edward taboo during dinner. I am quite certain we can find many far more pleasant subjects to discuss.’ Maude had quietly entered the room through the door behind Perys. She was in time to hear Arabella’s assessment of her absent cousin.

Standing to one side in order that Maude might pass into the room, Perys asked hesitantly, ‘Will Edward be dining with us?’

‘No.’ Giving him an enigmatic look, Maude added, ‘He feels he needs to rest. He insisted that we call a doctor from Mevagissey. You will no doubt be relieved to know that, although he has bled profusely, nothing is broken. What is more, Edward has decided to return to his family home in Devon first thing tomorrow morning. He will remain there until it is time for him to return to his studies at Cambridge.’

Arabella clapped her hands in delight and Maude gave her a look of mock disapproval. It was evident to Perys that Edward was not the most popular member of the Tremayne family.

‘Shall we make our way to the dining-room?’ Maude suggested. ‘Perys must be absolutely famished after such an eventful day…’

Perys had very little to say during dinner. In truth, he had spent little time in the company of women and felt particularly shy in the presence of these unfamiliar relatives. Nevertheless, he answered all the questions that were put to him, and from the chatter of Maude and her two daughters was able to piece together something of their lives.

Maude was a widow, her husband having been killed in the Boer War, fourteen years before, when Morwenna was six and Arabella two. She had brought up her daughters at their family home in London, helped by other members of the large and wealthy Tremayne family.

The subject of Perys’s own mother and grandparents was studiously avoided. However, he was questioned about his schooling and the career he proposed following in the army.

Unused to confiding in others, Perys replied hesitantly, ‘I haven’t discussed it with anyone yet and I first have to be accepted in the Duke of Cornwall Light Infantry. But what I would really like to do, eventually, is join the Royal Flying Corps as a pilot.’

There was a squeak of excitement from Arabella, while the others looked more doubtful.

‘Is that not rather dangerous?’ asked Maude.

‘They do seem to have a great many flying accidents,’ admitted Perys. ‘It’s a very new skill, but it must be exciting to be able to fly. What’s more, I believe it will one day prove its worth to the army – and to the navy. We had a French boy at school whose brother was a pilot. I think the French army takes flying far more seriously than we do.’

‘You know, of course, that