Writing for Fun
November 2018
The Pulse - Bob Wendelkin
They started to dig my foundation a few years after the 1745 Jacobite Rebellion, it was 1752 when we in Britain adopted the new style calendar, because of the change many people complained because they thought the Government had deprived them of ten days of their lives. At this time the Grace family decided that they needed a new house to live in and raise their family.
The house that the family required of me was to be set in my own grounds and have a large lake where they could keep fish and shoot duck for the table. Over the years Deer roamed into the estate and a few were shot once more for the table. That was how I came into existence being built near the Kentish coast.
Nothing really happened until in the early 19th century when a large Grandfather clock was purchased and set to work in the hall. Its gentle beat gave a pulse to me and the rest of the house. Its gentle tick gave a sympathetic passing of time as the years rolled by.
The house passed from father to son as the years rolled by; the main problem for the family arrived in the second decade of the 20th Century when the country was engaged with a war with the Germans in Northern France. The Master’s Granddaughter had fallen in love and married a soldier who was serving in France. She had become very distressed because she had not received a letter from him. They had promised one another that they would write every day to each other. Such was her unhappiness and distress that her Grandfather invited her to the house because he knew that as a child she has spent many happy hours in the house and grounds and he felt she had a special relationship with the house. A few days later she received a letter from him saying, in their special code, that he was engaged on the preparations for a major offence and to keep everything secret no one was allowed to write. He said he had got round this by getting a friend to take this letter and send it for him.
She folded the letter and put it in the box where she had put all his letters to her since they first met. She like many married women found herself in that happy condition of expecting their first child. She began to calm down and feel happier since she knew that at least a few days ago he was still in this world. Sometimes at night she found that she couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning until finally she could stand it no longer and was forced to get out of bed. She would leave her bed room and go down to the Drawing Room going passed the Grandfather clock in the hall. Its gentle tick seemed to settle her heart as it seemed to set the beat of her pulse.
On this night she once more felt disturbed so she got up and went down stairs. Across the hall passed the ticking clock, into the Drawing Room from its window she would look out over the ground towards where she knew France lay. On some nights she could swear that she could see flashes in the sky from the guns in Northern France. Under the fire she didn’t know if it was from English or from German Guns but she did know that men were being blown apart. Her big question in her mind: was her love being torn to pieces by these guns.
She could see that there was a gun battle going on in France as she could see the flashes in the sky, no noise just flashes, as the wind was in the wrong direction.
The moon was full and the ground down to the lake was just visible. As she looked she couldn’t be sure but could she see a figure down by the lake. It looked like he was throwing stones into the lake and watching the ripples grow. She felt that she should find out who was intruding on their property.
Pulling a top coat over her bed robe she made her way out of the door on to the lawn. The grass had grown a little longer since their gardener had been drafted into the army, soon her feet were soaking wet from the dew on the grass.
As she got closer to the figure by the lake, who was still throwing stones, she called out to demand what he was doing there. The figure turned just as the moon came out from behind a cloud she could see that it was dress in an Army Uniform. From the distance she was she couldn’t make out the face. The figure began to walk towards her, suddenly she could make out the features on the face, it was the face of Hayden, her husband. As soon as she saw who it was she rushed forward to embrace him. He put his hand up to stop her.
‘If you touch me I shall have to go,’ said the figure.
‘But I love you,’ she cried.
‘I’ve come to say my good-byes at this moment I am in a hospital in France where my life is ebbing away like so many of my comrades. I have been granted permission to visit the one I love who is carrying our child,’ replied Hayden.
‘Oh Hayden why has this happened to us?’ she cried.
‘We are here because our so called leaders play chess with their people without themselves being in any danger of life and limb. Until a weapon is developed that puts all in the same boat the ordinary man will always be in danger from their ambitions.’
‘Will that time come?’ she asked
‘It will but not in the time to protect our child. I now know some of our future and I must ask you to protect our son. When the time comes, and it will, when another war is on going a letter will arrive for our child to go a serve in the Army. From what I have seen of the suffering in the mud and trenches you must stop him going, I don’t want him to suffer this misery and perhaps die. You must prevent him going.’
‘We will have a son then. How do I do that?’
‘What I ask of you to save him is nasty and will require a lot of courage on your part but you must shoot him in the foot to prevent him from being fit enough to be called up. Will you do it? On our wedding you promised to obey, will you do it?’ demanded Hayden.
‘What you ask is great but as I’m to lose you I will keep him,’ was her reply.
‘I must go soon. You must remember that I love you both very much.’
He then started to fade and despite his command she rushed forward and managed to clasp his cold hand as he faded. As she looked the ripples on the lake seemed to grow larger and the flashes in the sky from France more intense now she couldn’t be sure but she wondered if she could hear their distant rumble. It was all over and she made her way back to the house. The sun began to rise and dawn struck its light across the grounds.
Once more in the hall the Grandfather clock still beat its steady pulse as time passed from days to years and decades.
From the house I could see where that couple had said their good-bye all those years ago. Now that whole area of the lakeside was now covered with Red Poppies making their reflection in the water of the lake seem like the blood of those who had their lives taken not given.
Into the hall came their grand-children they were like children in many ages playing hid and seek, one child the smallest opened the front of the clock to hide in the clock when his older brother stopped him.
‘You must never touch that clock or you may stop the whole pulse of this house.’