Crusader (A Novel of WWII Tank Warfare) by Jack Murray (important of reading books .TXT) 📗

There had been no need. A lifetimetogether bar the eighteen months when he was at war. The aroma in the kitchenwas as welcoming for him as the smile on Kate’s face.

‘Something new?’ asked Stan.

Her eyes narrowed and she went to hit him with the wooden spoon.This was his standard question to anything she cooked. He caught her arm which,in truth, was swung towards him with less-than-venomous velocity. Seconds latershe was in an embrace which she made little effort to disengage from.

Kate was unsure how long they were standing thus before they hearda gentle rapping on the open door. Stan broke off from holding Kate and wassomewhat shocked to see the tall figure of Lord Henry Cavendish standing in thedoorway. Standing beside him was his daughter. Her face managed the improbablefeat of being both shocked and amused in equal measure.

‘Lord Cavendish. Lady Sarah.’

‘Hello, Mr Shaw,’ said Henry. ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ he addedsmiling. ‘Rather glad we didn’t arrive a few minutes later, truth be told.’

By now Sarah was coughing and laughing at the same time. Henryglanced down at her and said grimly, ‘You’re not supposed to find that funnyyoung lady.’

Sarah Cavendish reddened immediately but the smile was impossibleto contain. Stan and Kate looked at the young woman and apologised.

‘Please don’t,’ she replied. ‘I’m glad to see that it’s not justmum and dad who are like this.

This brought an arch of Henry’s eyebrow that suggested hisdaughter’s views should be more circumspect, ideally unspoken. The Shaw’sinvited their guests into the cottage.

‘I’m just doing a round of the village. I wanted to hear news ofour boys.’

Our boys thought Stan. More than just our boys, he realised. Theybelonged to the village. To a way of life.

He looked at Henry. He’d watched him grow up, from being a quiet,rather distant boy, into a surly, very distant teenager before becoming agentleman that his father and grandfather would have been desperately proud of.Young people: there was no telling, really, which way they would go.

His daughter was the image of their mother, Jane. Tall, slenderwith fiery red hair and sea-green eyes. Like Henry, her youthful arrogance hadmade her distant and difficult to know. Over the last year however, the naturalwarmth from her mother’s side began to emerge as she herself became a youngwoman.

‘How is the young lord?’ asked Kate. For a moment she’d almostcalled him Robert, such was her familiarity with the young man.

‘At school, desperate to be eighteen so he can join up.’

Henry shot Stan a glance. He saw the face of the older man darken.

‘What of Tom and Danny? Any news?’

‘Sit down, you’ll have some tea?’ asked Kate.

The group sat down around the table that dominated the middle ofthe kitchen, like almost every other cottage in the village.

‘Both are in North Africa now, I think. Neither say very much,’acknowledged Stan, ‘But it’s not difficult to read between the lines. Tom, ifyou remember, was on Crete before he got evacuated. He’s been fighting theBoche in North Africa, too.’

Henry half-smiled at the term used by Stan. It had been commonduring the Great War; it seemed less so now. This was a different time. Youngpeople wanted to do things their way. They seemed to speak a different languagethese days. He glanced at his daughter who was becoming both unrecognisable andyet someone he knew well. The narrative of her growth so matched her mother’s.He caught his breath sometimes, fearful for a future that seemed so uncertain.

‘He doesn’t say much about what they’ve done or where they are. Ithink he’s in Tobruk. His regiment went there over the summer.’

Henry nodded but it was not good news. Tobruk was surrounded bythe Germans and the summer’s operation to relieve the siege had failed. Therewas little he could say that was positive on the subject which would not betrayhis worry. He moved the subject on.

‘What of the men he’s with? I gather there are a lot ofAustralians there.’

‘Yes. No finer fighting men, sir. He talks a lot about them andthe men he’s with. They’re a good bunch apparently. Not many bad apples. Mindyou, they’ve been through a lot already. You find out a lot about a man inthese situations.’

‘I imagine it’s a comfort to you to know he’s with men he trusts,’said Henry.

‘It’s everything, sir,’ replied Stan.

‘From what I know of Tom, they’re lucky to have him.’

The evident sincerity of Lord Cavendish’s words moved Kate Shawand she fought hard to stop tears appearing in her eyes. Even the flintyfeatures of Stan Shaw softened slightly. To hear such things about your sonfrom a man whose opinion you value meant a lot at that moment.

‘And Danny? How’s he finding it?’

Kate noticed that Sarah raised her head slightly. Thus far she’dsaid little beyond their greeting. She had been content to look down at thetable. For a moment Sarah and Kate exchanged looks before Sarah turned to Stan.

‘Bit hot, I gather,’ chipped in Kate. ‘Too many flies.’

They group laughed at this. Outside it was gun-grey overhead andsummer was still sleeping.

‘He says that he’s not seen action yet. They spend all their time onpatrols and maintenance. He can’t say anything, but I suspect that meansthey’ll be making a big push to relieve Tobruk,’ said Stan, tapping his pipe onthe table and striking a match.

‘They certainly need to,’ replied Henry, nodding. ‘Does he knowTom may be there?’

‘We don’t know for certain, but he’ll know which regiments arethere, I imagine,’ replied Kate. There was fear in her voice.

‘And the people he’s with?’ asked Henry, deftly moving theconversation onto more optimistic territory.

Kate glanced at Sarah again. Her eyes were back on the table. Herhands locked together in a knuckles-white grip.

‘Mixed bunch from what I gather. Some of them he’s known since thecamp at Thursley. Some of the others are a bit less friendly. They don’t acceptnewcomers easily.’

‘I suppose it’s understandable,’ said Henry.

‘I wrote as much to him, sir. Some of these blokes have lost theirchums. They just want to get back at the Boche. Seeing newcomers arrive, noneof them have a notion what they’re about to face. It’s unsettling and you’reresentful. You want to