Seasons Change

The tree was part of me. I made a detour so I could see it every day as I went shopping in the nearby village of Laverton. I saw it as the seasons changed and the years rolled by. I lived alone and dreaded the day, possibly not too far away now, when I would be too old or ill to make the trip. I would never cease to love the tree as it was part of you too.

There was a warm May evening from so long ago etched perfectly and permanently on my heart. "Surprise!" you'd yelled when I opened the door and saw you, bike in one hand, picnic basket in the other. I was so happy to see you I thought I'd burst. You wheeled the bike while somehow managing to balance the picnic basket on it. Your sleeves were rolled up and the pink of my blouse glowed in the evening light.

The sun would go down soon but we still had a few hours to spend together under our favourite tree which overlooked the most beautiful view of the Yorkshire Dales. Thoughtful as ever you'd even brought something for me to sit on so I wouldn't get grass stains on my skirt. We enjoyed the picnic accompanied by a spectacular sunset, then your arm slipped across my shoulders as you pulled me in, nearer to your body. 

"It's so beautiful here," you'd said. "I shall miss it when I go." 

"Let's not talk about that," I replied. "We know you'll be back before long." 

We made the most of our time on your visits during that warm spring and summer, more picnics, long walks together, the odd show at the theatre, part of a day trip into the closest town of Ripon. You came as often as you could. We had no idea when you'd have to go away but only that you wouldn't get much notice and so perhaps our relationship moved a little faster than it should. When we touched it was like electricity and we kissed for hours on end, mostly under the tree, staying out late, lying back on the ground and looking up at the stars. I felt like I was in heaven. 

We'd always meant to get married after you came back but in the end we decided why wait? We booked the register office for the following week, the 3rd of June. Neither of us had living parents. I did have an Aunt Rose who had brought me up but she was too frail to attend. Your parents had been killed in a house fire which was so sad but it had also destroyed the family mementos, including all the photographs. Fortunately you were away at university or I might have lost you before we'd ever had a chance to meet. 

When the registrar said, "I now pronounce you man and wife" I was the happiest I'd ever been in my life. Then when he followed it up with, "Would you please sign the register Mr and Mrs Carnegie," the words sounded so right. John was there by my side now, till death us do part, and we would take care of each other till we were both old and grey.

Afterwards, as I moved into John's house and we got used to married life I pushed the thought of you having to go away to the back of my mind but on the 1st day of August, when I came down to make breakfast, your cheeky smile was absent and I knew without you having to say a single word. 

"You've had news," I said, my heart falling down into my boots. The butterflies in my stomach refused to keep still and my hands were suddenly clammy. John nodded but couldn't even look me in the eye. 

"I've known for a while but I didn't say anything before now because I didn't want to spoil things till the last minute". There was a long silence when we both seemed to have lost the power of speech and then I plucked up courage to say the dreaded word though my voice was only a whisper. 

"When?" 

"Tomorrow, ten o'clock train." 

That night under our tree it was different between us. It was as if we were guarding ourselves against the feelings we both knew we felt but neither of us dared to uncork them so it had to be enough to be in each other's arms, John stroking my hair, my head on his shoulder and me holding his hand tightly.

The following day I was up early but not as early as John. He'd said he had a few things to organise before the train left so we agreed to meet at the station. I didn't want to be late. I put on my best dress and by the time I got there the platform was already heaving with people I'd never seen Ripon station so busy. 

I started to panic when I couldn't see John but then I heard him shouting, "Caroline, Caroline!" as he forced his way through the crowd. It seemed to take forever for him to get to me then suddenly he was there, his arms around me his tears mingling with my own. 

"I won't be gone long I promise. You know that's what we've been told. Make sure you keep visiting our tree then I can keep that image in my mind while I'm away." I nodded. It was all I could do through the torrent of my tears. "I love you Caroline, with all my heart and I'll be thinking of you every minute of every day till I see you again."  

"I love you too John," I replied, my voice barely a whisper. Just then there was a signal that the train was about to board and John was pulled away from me by the rest of the crowd moving towards the train doors. After that people obscured my view so I never saw John again but I was aware of the train pulling out of the station and me, just me, standing on the platform watching until long after it had disappeared into the distance. I felt numb.

I went to visit the tree at least once a week after that but the overwhelming sadness it gave me far outstripped the joyous memories of being there with John. I didn't even have a photo. Getting married in such a rush we'd never thought about a photographer so after a time I began to forget what he looked like and that was hard. He was the love of my life and now he didn't even have a face. Weeks passed and I didn't hear a word. It seemed so strange that he never answered any of the letters that I sent. 

Then months passed and it was winter, long after the time we'd expected him to return. Heavy snow meant I got to see the tree less and less. I had to accept I would never hear from him again. Had it been the old saying, marry in haste, repent at leisure? Had he had second thoughts at the speed of our decision to get married?

In late January I was upstairs when I heard the plop of an envelope falling onto the mat and saw the postman as he trudged off down the lane in the snow. I didn't get much post so my heart leapt. A letter from John! My hands shook as I opened the envelope and started reading.

Dear Mrs Carnegie,

It is with real sorrow that I write this letter for it brings you very bad news of your husband, Captain James Carnegie.

After this the words on the paper seemed to swim before my eyes and I found myself unable to read the whole letter, only parts of it penetrated the numbness I felt after reading that first sentence. Company cut off from the others, very dangerous position, no way of getting to them, communication lost, heavy snow meant the men were searching in the wrong places. Apologies for delay in notification. Sad duty to inform you Captain Carnegie not seen since October 7th 1914. Missing in action, presumed dead. Company Sergeant Major attested to his bravery, Military Cross, fine example to all, let pride be mingled with your tears. 

Yes there were tears. They filled my eyes and soon obliterated the letter from his Chaplain completely. I sobbed uncontrollably, all my fears over the last few months held in my hands, now real.

I didn't visit the tree for years after that, the emotions were just too raw. When my Aunt Rose died and left me her considerable estate I used some of it to buy the large plot of land that the tree stood on and arranged for a small memorial to be erected under it. After all, John would probably never be found, never have a gravestone, but I didn't go near it. That would have made it even more real. 

Time went by and the war went on and on, time when I could have been with John, when we could have had a family like we'd planned. I never healed, never spoke about it to anyone. 

Then finally, the war to end all wars ceased. On November 11th 1918, when peace was announced, I forced myself to go and visit the tree. I saw John's memorial for the first time and laid an armful of bright red poppies beneath it as I would continue to do every year after that. A career soldier and an officer he had volunteered as soon as war was imminent. Luckily his training ground was close by or we wouldn't have met, wouldn't have had so much of that magical spring and early summer together. 

Like millions of other people we had firmly believed what the war office had told us, that the conflict would be over by Christmas 1914 and therefore John and I wouldn't be apart for long. Instead we were now separated for all eternity and on this day, the day the war was finally over, I had to accept that John was never coming back.