Heirs of Ravenscar. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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pudding, and were sipping their glasses of St Emilion and relaxing, that Charlie suddenly sat up straighter in the chair.
‘What is it?’ Amos asked, following the direction of his gaze.
‘A friend’s just coming into the restaurant. That officer over there in the entrance. The one on crutches, with those two women and another man. Do you see him?’
Amos nodded.
‘He lost a leg, after he was severely wounded in the third battle of Ypres.’
‘Were you in the trenches with him?’ Amos asked.
‘No, I wasn’t. I didn’t know him then. We first met at the military hospital in Hull, and then again at Chapel Allerton Hospital in Leeds, when I had a problem with my leg. As you can see, they took his, amputated above the knee. I was much luckier, they saved mine. Do you mind if I go and say hello to him?’
‘Yes, go and speak to him, Charlie. I’ll just sit here and enjoy the very good claret you ordered.’
‘Cedric’s a nice chap, and he was very helpful to me.’
Amos frowned. ‘What did you say his name was?’
‘Cedric.’
‘And his last name?’
‘I didn’t say, but it’s Crawford. He’s Major Cedric Crawford. Why do you ask?’
‘I just wondered, that’s all.’
Excusing himself, Charlie walked across the restaurant, intent on speaking to the man with whom he had become good friends in the two hospitals in Yorkshire.
Amos stared after him. He felt as though he had just been hit in the stomach with a brick. Could the major on crutches be none other than the same Cedric Crawford who had lived with Grace Rose’s mother, Tabitha James? And who had abandoned Grace Rose? Who had turned her out into the streets to fend for herself?
He didn’t know. But he certainly aimed to find out.
As he waited for Charlie to return to the table, Amos glanced around the restaurant. It had filled up as the evening had progressed and there was quite a din … voices, laughter, the clatter of dishes and bottles, the clink of ice … all the sounds of a busy place, in fact.
There was a wonderful festive feeling here tonight and an air of celebration about the other people present who were dining at the Ritz. He noticed many officers with their wives, parents and families; some of them were wounded and his heart went out to those men. His eyes swept around the room once more, and he thought how truly fortunate they were. They were alive, safely home, and Christmas would be a good one for them this year. The world was at peace. But so many had died. Millions. The flower of English youth was gone, a generation wiped out.
Several times he sneaked a glance at Major Cedric Crawford, who was talking animatedly to Charlie. They both looked pleased to see each other.
Amos realized he would have to handle the situation with care and delicacy. He knew full well that men who had lived through similar experiences during a war, and became friends, always bonded, were blood brothers under the skin. And Charlie and Crawford had suffered horrific wounds in the Great War, had been in two hospitals together. There was bound to be an enormous closeness between them; in fact it was quite apparent that indeed there was, from the manner in which they greeted each other with such enthusiasm.
Amos averted his face, glanced towards the window and the view of Green Park, and then spotted Charlie hobbling back to the table.
‘Your friend appears delighted to see you, Charlie,’ Amos remarked as the other man sat down.
‘He was, and I was happy to see him, too. He’s a nice chap, Cedric, and he was always kind to me, very helpful.’
‘I’m glad he was. Tell me, is one of those good-looking women his wife?’
‘No, they’re both his sisters. Rowena, that’s the dark-haired one, is actually Cedric’s twin, and she’s not married. The blonde is the eldest sister. Her name is Daphne. The other man at the table is her husband, Sir Malcolm Holmes, who’s some sort of industrialist.’
‘I’ve heard of him. So Cedric is from a prestigious family, then?’
‘Very much so, Amos.’ Leaning forward Charlie confided, with a huge smile, ‘Cedric is going to be awarded the Victoria Cross. Just imagine that. What an honour … his sister Rowena just told me. She’s very proud.’
‘Well, that’s very impressive indeed. The Victoria Cross is the highest recognition for valour in the face of the enemy that anyone can get. Did you know that?’
Charlie shook his head. ‘I didn’t, but he bloody well deserves it, from what I’ve heard about his actions in the Battle of the Somme, just after Verdun. Saved a lot of his men, took great risks to do so.’
‘So he told you about his feats of bravery, did he?’ Amos’s eyes searched Charlie’s face. He was also wondering if there were two Cedric Crawfords in the world … but it was such an unusual name, wasn’t it? Hardly likely that there would be two of them, although you never knew. Could be there was. No, he thought. Cedric Crawford who had been a guards officer and a gambler before the war surely had to be this man.
Charlie exclaimed, ‘No, no, he wouldn’t boast about his courage, he’s not that sort. No, no. It was a surgeon at the hospital in Hull who mentioned his bravery to me one day. Apparently Cedric arrived at the hospital with quite a reputation as a hero … he got seven of his men out of a trench under heavy bombardment from the Germans, shepherded them to safety, then went back and carried out first one wounded Tommy, and then a second. That was in 1916 … the summer when General Haig sent in British troops to help the French. That first day the British troops were just mowed down … 20,000 dead, Amos, 20,000. And another 40,000 wounded or lost. It was on the second day that Cedric came to the rescue of his men.’
Amos nodded, said nothing, stunned by the size of the losses. It was almost impossible to conceive … 60,000 men either dead or wounded. He sat up straighter and looked at Charlie, who was still talking about Cedric.
‘After that violent summer, he went on to fight at Ypres. Funny thing was, I was at Passchendaele, and so was he, but we didn’t know each other. That was in 1917 … bloody wholesale slaughter it was. Those of us that got out alive, well, we sure as hell must’ve had a guardian angel watching over us.’
Amos could only nod, wondering how on earth he could broach the subject of Cedric Crawford, suggest that he was the man involved with Tabitha James. There were no two ways about it, they certainly sounded like two different men to him. But, in actuality, what did he really know about Cedric Crawford? Not much. He only had a bit of disjointed information from Grace Rose, a little girl who had been four at the time, plus a few comments from a woman who supposedly had been Tabitha’s friend, but was not all that well-informed. Nor had she been worried enough to rescue Tabitha.
‘You’re lost in thought, Amos. You look troubled. What’s wrong?’
Amos stared at the young man for whom he had always had great affection, and wondered where to begin. Clearing his throat, he asked in a casual tone, ‘Is your friend a professional soldier?’
‘I don’t believe so, but he was in the guards at one time. Then he got out, he didn’t say why. He lived in Paris for a bit and then he went to America. You know what, he actually saw me in a show on Broadway, and he remembered me and Maisie, believe it or not. It was a Billy Rose show, a wonderful revue.’
‘Does he like a flutter?’
‘You mean on the ponies? Or in a gambling club?’
‘The latter. Does he?’
‘I think so, but listen here, what’s all this about? Why all the questions about Cedric, Amos?’