Beyond the Red Horizon Page 2

  “Then if it’s not the war, there’s only one other thing that can distract a man, and that’s a beautiful woman. Are you worried about Millie?”

  Lyle swallowed the last of his ale and felt his face grow warm. He needed to unburden himself, but he didn’t know what to expect from his father. “I’ve fallen in love with a nurse at the hospital,” he blurted out before he could lose his nerve. He glanced around to make sure he hadn’t been overheard, but apart from themselves, there were only two other men in the inn, and they were huddled in the corner playing cards. “I’ve never felt this way before, Dad. She’s all I can think about, night and day.”

  Tom was not known for his tact, but he took a moment to choose his words carefully. “People act differently during war time, son. They know a bomb could drop on them any minute, so they become impulsive and tend to live for the moment. Feelings get out of hand.”

  “What are you saying, Dad? That my feelings aren’t real?”

  Tom could see that Lyle was hurt. “Yer feelings might seem real, lad, but when the war is over, and there’s talk that it could happen soon, will this girl still be there, and will you still feel the same about her?”

  “The only thing I’m certain of right now is that I’ll love Elena Fabrizia for the rest of my life,” Lyle said adamantly.

  “With a name like Fabrizia, she must be Italian,” Tom said, frowning.

  “Aye, her parents are Italian Catholics.”

  “Then yer in for a cartload of trouble, my son.”

  “What do you mean, Dad?”

  “Would I be right in guessing you haven’t met this Elena’s family and received their blessing?”

  Lyle bowed his head. “Aye, but our relationship is only a few weeks old.”

  “If I know anything about Italian Catholics, her father will expect and even arrange for her to marry another one. A Scottish Protestant would be shown the door, pronto!”

  Lyle’s heart sank. “I know there will be obstacles, but we can overcome them.”

  “She will be ostracised from her family, Lyle. Haven’t you got enough to deal with?”

  Lyle felt his frustration growing. “I love Elena. We love each other. There’s nothing I can do about it!”

  “What about Millie? It’s no secret she believes she will one day be your wife. She told your mother she has a glory box and her wedding dress already picked out.”

  “I’ve not asked Millie to marry me, Dad,” Lyle said defensively.

  “Maybe not, but she sees it in your future. Be very careful before you throw that away for something that could be just a war-time romance.”

  An hour later, Lyle knocked on Millie’s door with a heavy heart. He needed to set the record straight with her. The wind was howling, piercing even the thick folds of his long woollen overcoat with the collar turned up.

  Millie opened the door, and her face lit up like a hundred candles. “Lyle!”

  She was a small woman with a shock of curly reddish-brown hair and a sprinkling of freckles on her nose. She threw herself at Lyle, oblivious to the raindrops on his shoulders, and planted a big kiss on his lips that were blue with cold.

  Lyle had tortured himself for hours, comparing his feelings for Millie and Elena. The only thing he’d worked out was that he loved Millie, but it wasn’t the same kind of love he felt for Elena. When he thought of Millie, it was with warmth and fondness. They’d known each other since school days and had dated off and on for the past four years. They were comfortable with each other.

  The type of love he felt for Elena was entirely different. His heart raced whenever he saw her. He longed to touch her, feel the softness of her skin, even for a second or two. The thought of sharing a future with her and having her bear his children filled him with joy.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I’d have made myself pretty for you!” Millie gushed as she drew him inside, out of the cold. There was nothing like a November wind in Dumfries.

  Lyle could see through to the small lounge, where a warm and inviting fire glowed in the hearth.

  “I … my leave came up suddenly, so I thought I’d take the chance to get home,” Lyle said as he followed her into the small, cosy living room where he warmed his hands by the fire. In the silence, Lyle could hear someone coughing in another room. “How are your mum and dad?” Millie’s brother, Andrew, worked in the same munitions factory as Aileen, so he was lodging in Newcastle.

  “They’re in bed,” Millie said. She was in her dressing gown and slippers.

  “I’m sorry it’s late,” Lyle apologised. “After visiting with Mum and Aileen, I went to Mulligan’s Inn for a pint with Dad.”

  “I don’t care how late it is, Lyle. You’re here, and that’s all that matters. Mum and Dad will be sorry they missed you.” She took his overcoat and hung it on a hook amongst many others. “Actually, Dad’s not well, so that’s why he and Mum have gone to bed rather early.”

  Lyle was upset by this news. He liked Jock Evans. “That’s your dad I hear coughing?”

  “Aye, he coughs all night and keeps Mum awake.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “A few days.”

  “Has he seen a doctor?”

  “You know what Dad’s like, Lyle.”

  “Aye, he says doctors are for sick people.”

  “That’s right. His cough is terrible, but he’s playing it down and still going to work.”

  Lyle knew Jock was even more stubborn than his own father, but he was also a big, strong man. It was hard to imagine him ill.

  Lyle sat down on the sofa, the very same sofa on which he and Millie had made love just before he left for Blackpool. They’d been caught up in the very frame of mind that his father had spoken about. War-time emotions. There was no guarantee that Victoria Hospital wouldn’t be bombed, no guarantee that they’d ever have a future. He and Millie had been saving themselves for marriage, but what was the point if Lyle didn’t make it home? So, they’d taken a risk they otherwise wouldn’t have taken.

  Lyle stared into the flames, avoiding Millie’s trusting blue eyes. He tried to find the words to tell her it was over, that he’d fallen in love with another woman. But although they formed in his head, they wouldn’t pass his lips.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” Millie said, sitting beside him and squeezing his cold hands. She hadn’t been feeling too well herself, but her happiness at seeing Lyle again was as good as any tonic. “Can I get you some hot tea to warm your bones?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Lyle said.

  “What’s it like in Blackpool?”

  “I don’t get a chance to see much of the city,” Lyle replied truthfully. “It’s pretty hectic at the hospital. We can’t keep up with the constant arrival of wounded soldiers.” He took a deep breath. “I may not be able to get home again for quite some time, Millie.” He was leading up to the suggestion that Millie move on with her life instead of waiting for him.

  Millie frowned in disappointment. “I hope you’re getting enough rest, Lyle. I know how dedicated you are, but you need your rest.”

  It was just like Millie to fuss over his health. Lyle felt even guiltier. “I’m fine.” He had to change the subject. “How are you?”

  Millie gladly told him about her work as a teacher, and she gave him news of their friends in the town. Lyle wasn’t listening. His thoughts were with Elena. He couldn’t go on lying to Elena, either. He had to tell Millie the truth.

  After a while, Millie noticed that something wasn’t right. She assumed, as Lyle’s father had, that the war and the terrible injures he’d had to treat were affecting him.

  “Are you all right, Lyle, really? You know you can tell me,” Millie said compassionately.

  Lyle looked into her trusting blue eyes and felt like the lowest form of life. His guilt suffocated him like an anvil weighing down on his chest. He couldn’t bear the thought of breaking her heart and loathed himself for being deceitful. “Dealing with the aftermat
h of battle is hard, Millie. It’s changing me. I feel differently about a lot of things.”

  “I can understand that, Lyle.” Millie cupped his face in her hands. “But you don’t feel differently about me, do you?”

  Lyle saw this moment as his chance to plant the idea in Millie’s mind that she should make a life with someone else. “Millie, you deserve the best. You’re a good woman … but you should—”

  “I understand what you’re going through, Lyle,” Millie interrupted.

  “Do you?” Lyle asked. Maybe she would understand.

  “I expected it to change you. As long as you don’t change the way you feel about me, I can cope.”

  “Millie, sometimes circumstances change.”

  She interrupted him again. “If I won’t see you for a while, give me something to remember, Lyle. Make love to me, please.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “Stop, Millie,” Lyle said, disentangling himself from her ardent embrace and sitting up.

  “What’s wrong?” Millie asked, hurt. She wondered whether things were worse than she imagined, whether the terrible injuries he had seen had affected his ability to be with a woman.

  “Your father’s cough sounds terrible. I think there’s something seriously wrong with him.”

  “Do you?” Millie closed her dressing gown over her ample bosom as Lyle got to his feet.

  “Yes. I must have a look at him.” Lyle realised he hadn’t brought his medical bag with him.

  Millie knocked on her parents’ door and called to her mother, who only took a moment to appear.

  “What’s wrong, Millie?” she whispered. There was really no need to whisper; Jock couldn’t sleep. He was struggling to breathe.

  “Lyle is here, and he wants to have a look at Dad,” Millie replied urgently.

  Bonnie Evans was relieved. She couldn’t take another sleepless night of worrying.

  “That’s not necessary,” Jock barked. “Tell him to go home.”

  “I’ll do no such thing,” Bonnie hissed, grabbing her dressing gown from a hook on the back of the door. She came out of the room and hurried off to find Lyle, who was waiting in the kitchen.

  “Hello, Lyle,” she said, tying her gown and then vainly trying to tame her wayward curls.

  “I’m sorry to get you up, but I don’t like the sound of Jock’s cough,” Lyle said.

  “The stubborn old coot won’t see a doctor,” Bonnie lamented. “I’m afraid he might have caught the Spanish influenza.”

  “Oh, Mum, you don’t seriously think so, do you?”

  Bonnie’s blue eyes welled up with tears. “I do,” she said.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Lyle said. He noted the dark circles around Bonnie’s eyes and knew she’d had more than one sleepless night.

  Bonnie turned on the light, and Lyle could see Jock sitting on the side of the bed, hunched over, his face an unhealthy shade of grey. He was struggling to catch his breath. If Jock were honest, he’d admit that he had never felt so ill in his life. But his obstinate pride prevented such an admission.

  “Lyle is going to take a look at you, Jock,” Bonnie said.

  “Stop fussing, woman,” her husband grumbled. “It’s just a nasty cold I’ve got.” He coughed and wheezed, his face turning crimson.

  “It’s no cold, and we both know it,” Bonnie shot back crossly. Sleep-deprived for days, she was in no mood to be charitable. “Now you let Lyle take a look at you. And you do exactly what he says.” She practically pushed Lyle into the room.

  “Hello, Mr. Evans,” Lyle said awkwardly. “Are you not feeling so well, sir?”

  “I’m just a bit out of breath, and my chest feels tight. It’ll pass soon enough. Bonnie had no right bothering you. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”

  “Actually, I haven’t. I’m just home on a couple of days of leave.”

  “Then you should be relaxing, not bothering yourself with me,” Jock growled, choking out the words just before another coughing spasm hit him.

  “It’s no bother, sir, and it was my idea. I could hear you coughing from the living room, and I could tell it was no ordinary cough,” Lyle said. He walked around the bed to get a better look at Jock, trying to hide his discomfort because Bonnie was still in the doorway, but she noticed, anyway.

  Lyle had never seen Millie’s father look anything but strong as an ox, but right now he could have passed for a frail man twice his age.

  “I’d love a cup of tea, Mrs. Evans,” Lyle suggested gently.

  While Bonnie went to make the tea, Lyle knelt before Jock. “I haven’t got my stethoscope, so do you mind if I put my ear to your chest so that I can listen to your lungs?”

  “All right,” Jock said uncomfortably. “But yer wasting yer time.”

  Jock undid his pyjama jacket. Lyle put his ear against his chest and told him to breathe as deeply as he could. Jock tried, but taking a deep breath brought on another bout of coughing. Lyle noted that Jock was holding his side. Either he had fluid on the lungs or a fractured rib from the violent coughing fits.

  “It’s just a cold, isn’t it?” Jock said when he caught his breath.

  “It may be pneumonia, but it could be something else,” Lyle said, sitting down beside him on the bed. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “My father told me that someone at your work has tuberculosis. You know how contagious that is, Mr. Evans?”

  “Christ, don’t mention that to Bonnie or Millie,” Jock said softly, turning to look at the doorway.

  “I won’t, as long as you agree to go to the hospital for tests.”

  A few minutes later, Lyle emerged from the bedroom to say that he didn’t think Jock had the Spanish influenza. “It could be pneumonia, but the hospital will have to run tests to confirm it.”

  “The hospital,” Bonnie said. “I’ll never be able to get Jock to the hospital.” She handed Lyle a cup of tea and a plate of bannocks.

  “He’s agreed to go,” Lyle told her.

  “What? My Jock?”

  “Yes, I’ve convinced him that he needs to be tested. I think he’d like a cup of tea now.”

  Bonnie prepared her husband’s tea and took it through to the bedroom.

  Millie looked at Lyle. “You must have put the fear of God in my dad to get him to go to the hospital, Lyle. Tell me the truth,” she whispered. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine. I suspect he has pneumonia.” He didn’t want to alarm her by saying that he really suspected tuberculosis.

  Millie looked horrified. “Dad will be all right, though, won’t he?”

  Lyle knew that one in seven people with tuberculosis died. “Your dad is one of the strongest men in Dumfries. I’m sure he’s going to recover.”

  “I heard that a man at Dad’s work was diagnosed with tuberculosis,” Millie said. “It was Ted McNichol. You remember Ted, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course,” Lyle said. “You didn’t tell your mum about Ted, did you?”

  “No,” Millie said, becoming even more worried by the expression on Lyle’s face. “You don’t think Dad caught it, do you?”

  “I can’t say, Millie. He’ll have to be tested at the hospital.”

  “Oh, Lyle, I’m so glad you’re here,” Millie said. Throwing her arms around his neck, she began to cry.

  Lyle held her tight. Now was not the time to tell her he loved another woman, as he’d planned. He just couldn’t do it. Part of him was relieved for the reprieve, but he knew it was only temporary.

  Jock was admitted to the hospital, but Lyle had to catch the train back to Blackpool before the results of the tuberculosis tests were complete. Lyle had decided that it would be best to break things off with Millie without telling her about Elena. He just couldn’t do it while she was so worried about her father. He considered telling her by letter, but he knew that would be the coward’s way out, and Millie deserved more than that. He vowed to return when her father was well. Then he would end things betwee
n them.

  “Something smells wonderful,” Elena said to her mother when she entered the eat-in kitchen of their drab home on Warbreck Road. It was her day off, so Elena had been doing the family washing in the community laundry on High Street. She’d already changed into her housedress and slippers.

  Louisa Fabrizia had brightened up the interior of their maisonette home as best she could with colourful Italian tablecloths and little mementos from the years she’d lived in Italy, but the place was run-down and damp, and that couldn’t be disguised. The Fabrizias were just renting the 106-year-old house, the fourth in a row of ten, so Luigi saw no reason to spend good money to fix the sagging ceilings, broken floorboards, cracked panes of glass, or ill-fitting doors. Unfortunately, their landlord was of the same mind.

  “We have a guest for dinner tonight, Elena. Please set the table with the good china,” Louisa told her daughter.

  Luigi came through from the living room carrying the bucket he used to fetch wood from the pile outside. He looked Elena over with disapproval.

  “Elena, put on a nice dress tonight, and do something pretty with your hair,” he said before going out the back door to fetch the wood.

  “Who is our guest, Mama?” Elena asked as she began selecting cutlery and plates for the table.

  “Aldo Corradeo, the son of one of your grandpapa’s friends in Sardinia. He comes from the same part of Santa Maria Coghinas as your papa.”

  “Have you met him before?” Elena asked, thinking this was just a coincidence. She was almost glad to have a distraction from thinking about Lyle. She missed him so much.

  “He was at our wedding, but he was just a boy, so I wouldn’t know him now. Your Uncle Alfredo assures us that he’s grown into a very nice man,” Louisa added.

  “Like Papa, Uncle Alfredo thinks all Italian men are nice,” Elena whispered to her mother. “There are other men who are very nice, some of the doctors at the hospital, for instance.”

  Louisa looked mortified. “Don’t let your papa hear you say anything like that,” she hissed.

  “Would it be so terrible if I were to fall in love with someone who wasn’t Italian?” Elena asked.