No Greater Love

For as long as Sarah could remember, the photograph of a young soldier had graced the dresser in Aunt Jane’s home. The photo had faded over the years, yet the young man’s handsome features were still very clear.

As a child, she had been fascinated by his eyes. They seemed to follow her when she walked around the room. Though she had asked her aunt on several occasions who the man was, Jane would never be drawn.

Smiling mysteriously at her young niece, she had simply told her that his name was David and all would be revealed in the course of time.

“You’re too young at the moment, Sarah. But one of these days, you’ll understand everything.”

As Sarah grew older she learned that Aunt Jane never spoke about the man in the photograph. Even her closest friends were kept in the dark. Only her younger sister, Sarah’s mother, seemed to know something about him, but she too remained silent. 

“Aunt Jane will tell you in her own good time,” was all Mary would say on the subject.

Sarah also learned that her aunt had a habit of slipping away for a few days without saying a word to anyone. Apparently years ago, when it first happened, Jane’s neighbours had called the police, fearing she may have been abducted, especially as none of her clothes or other personal items were missing. But then she suddenly reappeared and assured them that there was no need to worry – though she wouldn’t say where she had been.
Aunt Jane had never married. Those who knew her well recalled she had once spoken of a young man, who went off to fight in the war and never returned. However, as few had actually met him, many believed she had made up the whole story, but none would ever say so to her face.

Aunt Jane lived in a cottage on the edge of a pretty village. She had a large garden, full of nooks and crannies and at the bottom, well away from the house, stood a summerhouse. Built sometime after the war, it was looking old now and the roof leaked, but Aunt Jane wouldn’t allow it to be pulled down. “It’s part of me, now,” she said, firmly. “We’ve grown old together.” 

Growing up, Sarah had loved spending her holidays with her aunt. The garden was so interesting; there was always something different to see. Her own garden wasn’t anything like this, and Sarah often wished that they lived in the country. But as her father worked in a factory in the centre of a large town, she realised it was impossible. Nevertheless she made up her mind that, when she grew up, she was going to marry a man who lived and worked in the countryside.

Even as a teenager, Sarah enjoyed these holidays in the country and, one morning, she awoke to find the sun streaming through the window. It was still very early but, as she couldn’t get back to sleep, she decided to take a walk around the garden.

Not wanting to wake her aunt, she dressed quietly and crept downstairs. She had almost reached the garden pond when she heard voices. They seemed to be coming from the summerhouse. 

Carefully she moved closer, wondering who could be in her aunt’s garden at this time of the morning. However, peering though the window, she found it was empty. 

She stepped back in amazement. It wasn’t possible. Anyone leaving the summerhouse would have passed right by her; she would have seen them. Had she been hearing things? No! She was convinced she had heard voices. Slowly pushing open the door, she was about to go inside, but suddenly the summerhouse seemed frightening and she fled back to the house.

When Sarah burst into the kitchen, she was surprised to see that Aunt Jane was already up and dressed.

“Whatever’s the matter Sarah? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Well Aunt Jane, I think I may have heard one. Well two, actually,” she said, recalling that it was two voices she had heard. “I couldn’t sleep so I took a walk down the garden.” She looked away. Now that she was safely back in the house it all seemed so stupid and she would rather have not said any more. But her aunt was waiting, so she had to continue. “I thought I heard voices in the summerhouse but, when I looked inside, no one was there.”

“Voices? Nonsense!” replied Aunt Jane, briskly. She looked out of the window, down towards the summerhouse. “It was probably the breeze rushing through the leaves. Now forget all about it and have some breakfast.”

Sarah was surprised at the sharpness of her aunt’s tone. “Are you cross with me Aunt Jane?”

“No, of course I’m not.” Jane smiled and softened her voice. “Come along, I’ll have some hot buttered toast ready in a few minutes.”

Though Sarah went down to the summerhouse early every morning for the rest of her stay, she never heard the voices again. Perhaps her aunt had been right; it must have been the breeze after all.
The years passed and Aunt Jane continued to disappear at regular intervals, never telling anyone when or where she was going.

“Vanished into thin air,” her neighbours would say. “The woman is as eccentric as ever.”

Now grown up and engaged to be married, Sarah still continued to visit her aunt and very often took her fiancé with her. It was obvious that Aunt Jane adored Rob. She always baked special cakes when she knew he was calling for tea.

One day, while they were there, her aunt took a few cakes across the road to a neighbour. Absent-mindedly, Sarah picked up the photograph of the young soldier.

“No one really knows who David is,” she told Rob. “He’s a complete mystery.” She paused for a moment. “Mind you, having said that, I think my mother knows more than she says.”

As she was putting the picture back in its rightful place on the dresser, she saw that the soldier was wearing a rather distinctive ring. How strange she had never noticed it before. Pointing it out to Rob, she suddenly had a feeling that she had seen her aunt wearing the very same ring.

Looking through her aunt’s magnifying glass, she was able to make out the initials DA surrounded by gold filigree. “So he’s called David A,” she said thoughtfully.

“I really don’t think you should pry.” Rob glanced towards the window. “Your aunt could come back any minute.”

“You’re just worried in case she stops baking those delicious cakes for you.” Sarah laughed, but she knew Rob was right and put the glass back in the drawer.

Shortly after their visit, Aunt Jane took ill and was confined to her room. She asked for the photograph to be placed on her bedside table where she could see it.

“One thing is certain, Mum,” said Sarah, tearfully. “Poor Aunt Jane isn’t going to wander off anymore.”

However, Sarah couldn’t have been more wrong. Aunt Jane did disappear on at least two occasions. On her return, Sarah, who had frantically searched the house and gardens, asked where she had been.

“Why Sarah, my dear,” she replied, smiling gently. “I’ve been here all the time.” She looked at Mary and smiled. “I’ve always been here. I’ve never
gone anywhere, have I?”

Taking Sarah by the hand she repeated what she had said many years ago. “One day, you’ll understand everything.”

Puzzled, Sarah was about to ask her aunt what she meant, but her mother interrupted.

“Leave it be, dear. Aunt Jane doesn’t know what she’s saying. What does it matter anyway? She’s safely back with us now.”

Convinced her mother knew something, Sarah wanted to question her, but this wasn’t the time. However, as she helped her aunt take a drink, she couldn’t help but notice that she was wearing the ring in David’s photograph.

A week later, Aunt Jane died peacefully in her sleep. “Now I’ll never learn your secret,” Sarah murmured, gently removing the ring from her aunt’s finger. Carefully placing it next to the photograph of David, she wondered if he had once given it to her as a keepsake.

A couple of weeks later, Sarah was at the cottage helping her mother sort through some of Aunt Jane’s belongings. She hoped she might find
something that would solve the mystery of why her aunt kept disappearing. So far, her mother had remained silent on the issue.
 
Finishing the downstairs rooms, her mother suggested they begin clearing the attic. “You go ahead and I’ll follow you shortly,” she said. “I just want to have a walk in the garden first.”

Upstairs, Sarah discovered a small casket tucked away in the corner. Opening the lid, she found some letters and a few photographs. One picture, in particular, caught her eye. It showed Aunt Jane and David standing in front of the summerhouse. They looked so happy and in love.

Turning her attention to the letters, she found that some were from her aunt to David, while the others were his replies. Piecing the letters together, she managed to work out that David and Aunt Jane had been about to be married when war was declared. However, he was called into the armed services before the wedding could take place.

Tears formed in Sarah’s eyes as she read of the love the couple had held for each other. It was clear they were planning to marry instantly the war was over. In his last letter, David told Jane there was to be a great battle the next day and he would wear the gold ring she had given him at their last meeting.

Promising to carry all her letters next to his heart, he ended by assuring her that there was no greater love than the love he held for her. “I will never leave you,” he wrote. “I will always be by your side.” 
 
When she had finished reading the letter, Sarah dried her eyes. Picking up the photo, she looked again at the happy couple standing by the summerhouse. She knew now why her aunt had never married. Their love for each other was endless; for her there could never have been anyone else.

Obviously David had been killed in the battle and all his personal property had been forwarded on to her. That was how she had his ring and the letters she had lovingly sent him all those years ago. But why had she never spoken of him? Why was it such a secret? 

“Hello, Sarah. Are you all right?”

She jumped as Rob’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She hadn’t been expecting him.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied. She kissed him. “It’s lovely to see you, but didn’t you have a meeting today?”

“I cancelled it. I suddenly felt that you might need me here with you.”

“Thank you, Rob, that’s so sweet of you.” Sarah looked past him towards the stairs. “Mum’s around somewhere, did you see her?”

“Yes, she’s in the summerhouse.” He paused. “I thought you were in there with her as I was convinced I heard voices. However when I went in there, I found she was alone.” He shrugged. “It must have been the wind. Anyway she told me you were up here.”

Sarah shivered, recalling the time she had heard voices in the summerhouse. Despite her aunt’s assurances, she had never felt comfortable going in there alone.

“Look,” she said, changing the subject. “I came across this photo of Aunt Jane and David standing by the summerhouse. Don’t they look wonderful together?”

She handed the picture to Rob. “And I found the letters they wrote to each other while he was away. In this one, he told Aunt Jane that he would wear her ring and carry all her letters close to his heart when he went into battle the next day.” She lowered her voice. “He must have been killed as I can’t find any more letters from him.”

As she handed the letter to Rob, something fluttered from the envelope and fell to the floor. She hadn’t realized there was anything else inside. Picking it up, she saw it was a letter to her aunt from the War Office informing her that David Armstrong had been killed while gallantly running to the aid of a fellow soldier.

She caught her breath as she read the last part aloud. “His friends saw him step on a land mine. The explosion, which killed him, destroyed everything. We are sorry to inform you that nothing was ever recovered.” 
Sarah sank into the chair. “I don’t understand, Rob. If David died and nothing was ever recovered, how did Aunt Jane get the ring or the letters? It’s not possible.”

“That reminds me,” said Rob. “Your mother said to give you this. It seems your aunt said she would like you to have it.” He handed her the ring.

“It’s David’s ring.” Sarah whispered, slowly taking it from Rob’s outstretched hand. Her hand trembled as she placed the ring upon her finger. “It fits perfectly.” Holding her hand up towards the window to get a better look, she saw her mother standing by the summerhouse. Almost in the same position as Jane and David were, in the photo.

The summerhouse! Suddenly, something popped into Sarah’s mind and she glanced again at the photo in Rob’s hand. Her eyes widened and she turned white.

“What is it?” Rob looked anxious. “Are you all right?”

Grabbing the photograph, Sarah stabbed her finger at the happy couple in front of the summerhouse. “Look. They are both in front of the summerhouse – they’re standing there together!”
“So?” Looking puzzled, Rob shook his head. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“It has everything to do with it. Aunt Jane’s summerhouse wasn’t built until ten years after the war ended.” Sarah watched Rob’s jaw drop as she continued. “David was killed before the summerhouse was built, so how can he possibly be in this photograph?”

Copyright Eileen Thornton

Eileen Thornton’s articles and short stories have been published in a variety of magazines. Her first novel, The Trojan Project, a thriller, has just been published. She also reviews books for newbooks. Eileen is a member of the Society of Authors, the Society of Women Writer’s and Journalists, the Women Writers Network, The Edinburgh Writer’s Club, The Borders Writer’s Forum and The Melrose Literary Society, as well as being an Associate Member of NAWG (National Association of Writers Groups). http://www.eileenthornton.co.uk

Read The Awakening by Eileen Thornton