commission then and taken a desk job somewhere so I could be with him. But I didn’t. The army was the only life I’d known, and I didn’t know what else I’d do. So I sent Adam to boarding school.’
‘Oh.’
He watched her closely. ‘You don’t approve?’
‘Well, I can see why he would grow up resenting your uniform, can’t you?’
‘Yes, I know,’ John agreed heavily. ‘I can see it myself now. But at the time I wasn’t thinking clearly. I did my best.’ His green eyes met hers, pleading for understanding. ‘Or what I thought was best at the time,’ he amended. ‘But now I can see I made one big mistake after another, and I’ve been doing so ever since.’ He put down his cup. ‘At any rate, now I’ve lost my son. Adam’s made it very clear he doesn’t want to know me.’
‘You can’t give up hope,’ Frannie urged.
‘But you’ve seen how he is with me. He doesn’t want anything to do with me.’
‘On the contrary, I think he needs you more than he’s willing to let on.’
John’s brows drew together. ‘Do you think so?’
‘I know he does. You have to keep trying. Be patient.’
John let out a deep sigh. ‘I don’t have much choice, do I? I’m not going to abandon my son. Even if he does despise me.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
His mouth curved. ‘Then you don’t know Adam. Over the years he’s gone out of his way to embrace everything I detest.’
‘You detest pacifism?’ Frannie said.
‘No one who has been through a war can detest peace,’ John said. ‘But I’ve been trained to do my duty. And I’m afraid Adam finds that idea rather laughable. He’d rather be with his high-minded friends, discussing poetry and politics.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with poetry and politics,’ Frannie said.
‘I suppose not. But I’m just a simple soldier.’ He considered her across the table. ‘You were always the clever one, as I recall. I thought you might become a teacher like your father?’
‘I thought about it,’ she said. ‘But after I’d served as a VAD in France, I thought I might as well continue training as a nurse.’
He blinked. ‘You were with the Voluntary Aid Detachment?’
She nodded. ‘I signed up when I was eighteen. I went out to be closer to Matthew. But by the time I was posted out to France, he was already missing.’
John was silent for a long time. Frannie felt his mood shift and realised that even after all these years, Matthew’s death still affected him as much as it did her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I suppose you must find it difficult to talk about what happened?’
‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘Yes, I do.’
He didn’t meet her eye when he said it. There were so many questions in Frannie’s mind, things she longed to know, but she didn’t dare ask them.
‘And yet you joined up again,’ she said.
‘I told you, the army was the only place I’d ever felt I belonged,’ he said.
‘But I thought you liked working on the farm?’
‘Oh, I did. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to Matthew’s family for taking me in, and they treated me very well. But I was never going to be more than a farm worker to them. In the army, I learned that if I worked hard I could earn respect. I managed to work my way up through the ranks and when the war ended, I had the chance of a commission. Suddenly people were looking up to me as an officer, not down on me as a workhouse boy.’
‘I hope you don’t feel I ever looked down on you?’
His eyes met hers. ‘No,’ he said in a low voice. ‘You were one of the few people who treated me as if I belonged. I was always grateful to you for that.’
They finished their tea shortly afterwards, and John stood up to leave.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘It’s good to be able to talk to someone about Adam.’
‘You can come and speak to me any time,’ Frannie assured him. ‘My door is always open.’
‘Thank you. You’re very kind.’
She watched him striding
‘Oh.’
He watched her closely. ‘You don’t approve?’
‘Well, I can see why he would grow up resenting your uniform, can’t you?’
‘Yes, I know,’ John agreed heavily. ‘I can see it myself now. But at the time I wasn’t thinking clearly. I did my best.’ His green eyes met hers, pleading for understanding. ‘Or what I thought was best at the time,’ he amended. ‘But now I can see I made one big mistake after another, and I’ve been doing so ever since.’ He put down his cup. ‘At any rate, now I’ve lost my son. Adam’s made it very clear he doesn’t want to know me.’
‘You can’t give up hope,’ Frannie urged.
‘But you’ve seen how he is with me. He doesn’t want anything to do with me.’
‘On the contrary, I think he needs you more than he’s willing to let on.’
John’s brows drew together. ‘Do you think so?’
‘I know he does. You have to keep trying. Be patient.’
John let out a deep sigh. ‘I don’t have much choice, do I? I’m not going to abandon my son. Even if he does despise me.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
His mouth curved. ‘Then you don’t know Adam. Over the years he’s gone out of his way to embrace everything I detest.’
‘You detest pacifism?’ Frannie said.
‘No one who has been through a war can detest peace,’ John said. ‘But I’ve been trained to do my duty. And I’m afraid Adam finds that idea rather laughable. He’d rather be with his high-minded friends, discussing poetry and politics.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with poetry and politics,’ Frannie said.
‘I suppose not. But I’m just a simple soldier.’ He considered her across the table. ‘You were always the clever one, as I recall. I thought you might become a teacher like your father?’
‘I thought about it,’ she said. ‘But after I’d served as a VAD in France, I thought I might as well continue training as a nurse.’
He blinked. ‘You were with the Voluntary Aid Detachment?’
She nodded. ‘I signed up when I was eighteen. I went out to be closer to Matthew. But by the time I was posted out to France, he was already missing.’
John was silent for a long time. Frannie felt his mood shift and realised that even after all these years, Matthew’s death still affected him as much as it did her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I suppose you must find it difficult to talk about what happened?’
‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘Yes, I do.’
He didn’t meet her eye when he said it. There were so many questions in Frannie’s mind, things she longed to know, but she didn’t dare ask them.
‘And yet you joined up again,’ she said.
‘I told you, the army was the only place I’d ever felt I belonged,’ he said.
‘But I thought you liked working on the farm?’
‘Oh, I did. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to Matthew’s family for taking me in, and they treated me very well. But I was never going to be more than a farm worker to them. In the army, I learned that if I worked hard I could earn respect. I managed to work my way up through the ranks and when the war ended, I had the chance of a commission. Suddenly people were looking up to me as an officer, not down on me as a workhouse boy.’
‘I hope you don’t feel I ever looked down on you?’
His eyes met hers. ‘No,’ he said in a low voice. ‘You were one of the few people who treated me as if I belonged. I was always grateful to you for that.’
They finished their tea shortly afterwards, and John stood up to leave.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘It’s good to be able to talk to someone about Adam.’
‘You can come and speak to me any time,’ Frannie assured him. ‘My door is always open.’
‘Thank you. You’re very kind.’
She watched him striding
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