North Atlantic
by Chris Cottom
[this is the fourth in the five part series–
read Good and Faithful Servent from the beginning, here]
Edwin still liked Rose to bang the gong in the hall to announce luncheon, even when it was only the two of them. Roland was twenty and serving, most worryingly, in the Royal Navy, while Binkie boarded at school in St Albans.
After Edwin said grace, Rose served him some cold mutton, quartered tomatoes, and new potatoes. Then she passed him a letter.
‘This is addressed to both of us,’ he said. ‘It’s from Roland.’
‘I know.’
‘Didn’t you want to open it?’
‘Of course. But it’s Thursday: I didn’t want to interrupt you writing your sermon.’ And, she thought, because I wanted you beside me in case he’s been wounded.
Edwin didn’t go to his study to fetch his brass letter opener, but used his table knife instead.
‘I know he’s not allowed to tell us,’ Rose said, as Edwin unfolded the coarse cream paper with its familiar handwriting. ‘But I do so wish we knew where he was.’
Edwin started reading aloud: ‘HMS Lancaster, care of GPO London (at sea). Dear Mater and Pater. You’ll never guess who I’ve seen: Grandmama’s old head gardener, Jabez.’
‘I knew it! He’s ill and feverish,’ Rose said. ‘Old Jabez has been dead these past five years.’
~
An hour later Rose strode along the corridor, her hands floury from her baking. She knocked on the study door and went in without waiting. God would forgive her if she disturbed Edwin at prayer.
‘It’s Jabez’s surname he means,’ she said.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Snow. Jabez Snow. It’s Roland’s way of telling us where he is.’
‘You mean–’
‘He’s telling us he’s seen snow. He’s on the convoys, the North Atlantic convoys.’
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