Chapter 23 Regrets #2
Ned dropped to his knees so quickly Charlie almost walked into him. The grave looked identical to every other, except it clearly wasn’t, as Ned was rubbing at the inscription on the fragile wood cross. “Albert Beit von Speyer, right where your mother said you would be.”
Charlie stayed off to the side, not sure he wanted to get too close to any individual grave. “An acquaintance of yours?”
Ned sat back, brought his arms around his knees but showed no inclination of standing up.
“We were at Oxford together. Part of our whole set.”
Charlie knew a little about Ned's dead friends. Wealthy young men who had thought they had the world at their feet, who boldly sought out their officers’ commissions and died in a pointless war.
“Albert strolled into college the first week of term in 1911 without knowing a soul, absolutely certain of his own primacy. We were at each other’s throats debating the French Revolution before the first course was served.
By the end of the term, I learned that no one else could manage to be as simultaneously hilarious and frustrating as Albert, and that I, in arguing with him, had become an advocate for a new, fairer social order. ”
“Did you change his mind?”
“Not in the slightest. We disagreed about everything. He loved Wagner’s operas, for God’s sake!
” Ned looked at Charlie as if this was something he should be shocked about.
“We were so arrogantly na?ve. The last letter I ever received from him arrived three weeks after war was declared. He told me to keep the book of poetry he had lent me, as he planned to visit England after Christmas. The irony was that I probably could have returned the book to him at Christmas in person. We were both sitting in freezing mud in Flanders by then.”
As a rule, Charlie didn’t talk about the war.
He offered no explanations why he only smoked a specific brand of cigarettes, or what had caused the scars on his wrists.
Yet, hearing Ned’s story brought a memory to Charlie’s lips.
“I waited seven hours in the August sun to sign my enlistment papers. When I came home, my grandmother wouldn’t stop crying.
She wailed and wailed, saying she would never see me again.
Everyone kept telling her not to worry, that I would be home by Christmas.
But there was nothing to be done, she was convinced.
In the end she turned out to be right. She was already dead and buried for six months when I had my first leave back to London.
” Charlie slid down to sit beside Ned, the grass warm from the day’s sun.
“The war didn’t turn out the way anyone thought it would. ”
The wind blew and the leaves of the tree above them cast shadowed patterns across Ned’s face, making him look delicate, accenting his long eyelashes, drawing extra focus to the pink in his lips.
Age was supposed to make people less attractive, dammit. And Ned’s attractiveness wasn’t something Charlie was supposed to be noticing.
“You weren’t angry at him for joining the other side?”
Charlie had never hated the Germans, nor had he seen the war as some sort of fundamental struggle. But still, Ned had been an officer.
“What for? Every man had to do his duty. I couldn’t fault Albert for going to fight for Kaiser Wilhelm any more than he could fault me for fighting for King George. Glad I never ran into him in No Man’s Land, though. He was my first kiss, and I, his. It would have been very awkward.”
“I’m sure the officers’ handbook would have a procedure,” Charlie said.
The affectionate way that Ned spoke of his dead lover made Charlie’s stomach twist. He could all too easily picture a German princeling making a youthful Ned swoon.
Ned's voice was soft, just loud enough for Charlie to hear, even though they were completely alone. “Albert was always very big on duty. He was the only son of an only son with an obligation to carry on the family name, to bring it to greatness. I remember one end of term dinner, we got drunk on cheap wine and he stood up in the middle of the hall and swore that he was going to make the most of his wild oats in Oxford, spending the rest of his life enjoying the memories.” Ned gently ran his fingers over the cross. “I always found that comforting, knowing he hadn’t walked onto that battlefield with regrets.”
Ned looked up to lock eyes with Charlie. “I was worried, you know, that you or I would have them.”
Charlie completed the thought. “That’s not the case.”
“I wouldn’t compare my career to your family, but what I do has meaning.
It’s maybe not the revolution I argued for, but I nudge the government in a direction that helps people no matter what class they were born to.
” Ned made a wry smile. “Plus, I have been bloody fortunate to have a salary these past few years. Father had a fair bit invested in the stock market.” Ned’s tone was so neutral that Charlie missed at first the implication of what he was saying.
“The crash didn’t leave Mother and Father penniless, but there won’t be much left when they are gone.
And before you say it, I helped create those inheritance taxes, and I know why I should be paying them. ”
“Congratulations on joining your fairer society.” Charlie reached over and gave Ned a sarcastic pat on the back.
“I don’t have regrets either. It took a while, but the shop has regular business now.
Frank, Ellie—they make it all worthwhile.
I remember when Frank was born, Betty and I would spend hours watching him sleep in his cradle.
We were in awe of this miracle we made.”
“You and Betty are well, then?” Charlie couldn’t tell if he imagined the tension in Ned’s eyes as he asked the question.
“She’s a wonderful mother. A godsend with the shop. I think she might like motors and engines better than I do.”
It was not really an answer to the question Ned asked. Charlie almost wished Ned would call him on it.
He didn’t. “It sounds like you have everything you wanted.”
The soft summer breeze blew across Charlie’s face. With the sharp grass beneath his hands and birds chirping in the trees he could be sitting in a park, except for the hundreds of graves around him.
Charlie closed his eyes to the sun and listened to the birdsong.