Supposing Lieutenant Strider had supported that subterfuge, had lied about the boy’s presence by his side in battle . . . then that surely would have justified his later paroxysms of guilt.
So if Graham Chadleigh wasn’t on the Ypres Salient in October 1917, where was he?
Laurence Hawker found the truth in two devastating documents.
The first was a letter written to Esmond by his mother in 1921. He was then an undergraduate at Oxford and apparently worrying about work pressures.
I know how hard it is for you, my dear boy, and for all of your generation, for whom life is opening up and yet remains shadowed by the knowledge of the many men not much older than you for whom life has closed for ever. I know how particularly hard it is for you, Esmond, after what happened to Graham. But do not give in to despair. Do not believe that there is “bad blood” in the Chadleigh family. (I dare not imagine what your father would say if he knew I was writing to you in these terms!)
You must not think that because you are Graham’s brother, the same fate awaits you. He was under terrible pressure at the time, and was not thinking sensibly. By 1917 the glory had gone out of the War. Young men knew the likely fate that awaited them, and it was not a comforting one. Graham had not enjoyed his training, and the knowledge that he had to leave for the Front on the Monday caused him great anxiety that last weekend he was with us.
I wish I had been aware of how serious a state he was in, but it is always easy to be wise in retrospect. I was busy with the family and guests, and did not realize how much the talk of your father and Hugo Strider was upsetting him. Mrs Heg-garty’s boy had just run off to escape his duty, and your father had much to say on the subject of cowardice. I think it was that which troubled Graham most. He doubted his own bravery; he feared that, in the heat of battle, he might turn out to be a coward.
And some would say he took the coward’s way out. Afraid he wouldn’t live up to the expectations everyone – especially his father – had for him, Graham evaded the challenge of proving himself in battle. And yet, although I can never condone what he did, it too must have taken a kind of courage. To put a revolver in your mouth and . . . I am sorry, I should not write such things, but, Esmond, I know you are old enough for me to share my weaknesses with you, as you share yours with me.
You speak of doubts about your father’s course of action after Graham’s death. I cannot comment on that, only say that your father is an honourable man and did what he thought right, according to his lights.
But, please, dear boy, do not brood on Graham’s fate. It will not be yours. As children, you were always different, he a nervy, sickly boy, you always a cheerful little soul. Please, do not even speak of such thoughts. To have lost one of my darling boys is sometimes more than I can bear. Even the idea of losing another is sufficient to freeze the blood in my veins . . .
So, thought Laurence Hawker, that was it. Someone should have realized, from the fact that Graham Chadleigh’s service revolver stayed at Bracketts. If he had been so thoroughly blown up at Passchendaele that no trace of his body was found, then what were the chances of his gun turning up?
Everything else fitted, though. There was no place for cowards in any household run by Felix Chadleigh. No son of his could be known to have ducked out of his duty to King and Country in such a shabby way.
There was the religious dimension too. For a Catholic, suicide is the ultimate sin. The boy’s body must have been secretly buried, without benefit of any funeral rite, in the kitchen garden, there to stay for more than eighty years, until accidentally uncovered by the spade of Jonny Tyson.
For his father, the reality of what Graham Chadleigh had done was too appalling ever to be made public. An alternative, more pleasing, truth would have to be invented.
So Felix Chadleigh had invented it. And by God only knew what amount of bullying and persuasion, he had forced his family and friend to endorse that new truth.
There was one document Laurence Hawker found more chilling than all the others. It was written in 1919 to his wife by Felix Chadleigh, when he was away from Bracketts shooting in Scotland. The part that shocked Laurence read as follows:
Do not lose heart, my dearest. We have much to be thankful for. We have each other, we have Bracketts, we still have three children. God has given us reverses, but He has also looked after us. God is on our side. Even at Passchendaele, He was on our side. He saw to it that none of the men with Hugo survived the shelling, and thus made our lives so much the easier.
Chapter Forty-Four
Sheila Cartwright’s funeral duly took place, and was duly attended by all the Great and the Good of West Sussex. Lord Beniston recycled the bland appreciation that he had wheeled out for many similar occasions. Sheila’s close friend, the Chief Constable, also spoke. Tributes were paid to her enormous energy and achievements.
And Gina Locke was introduced to some very useful potential sponsors.
An overlooked figure, Sheila’s husband, was, needless to say, present at the ceremony and the reception that followed. He was so ineffectual a figure, however, that the other guests kept forgetting he was there.
But the one or two who did look at him by mistake, noticed on his face an expression that looked not unlike relief.
Laurence Hawker delivered his report well in time for the next meeting of the Bracketts Trustees. In the interim Gina Locke had organized replacements to fill the missing seats on the Board. (Josie Freeman had also tendered her resignation. This had nothing to do with recent events at Bracketts; it had been motivated solely by her masterplan for the social advancement of her husband. She had been offered a position on the Board of the Royal Opera House, where her presence would be much more valuable to his profile. A few more moves of that kind, continuing carefully targeted – and carefully leaked – philanthropy to the right charities, donations to the right political party, and Josie Freeman felt quietly confident of upgrading her husband’s OBE to a knighthood within a couple of years. The only other important thing she had to do was somehow stop him talking about car-parts all the time.)
Of course Gina Locke could not appoint new Trustees herself. But she could suggest suitable names to Lord Beniston, and he could invite them to join the Board. With little knowledge of anyone in West Sussex outside his own circle, and always liking to have his work done for him, the noble Lord had accepted all of Gina’s suggestions without argument. As a result the new Board had a much lower average age than its predecessor, and contained more members who saw the leisure industry exactly the same way as Gina Locke saw it. None of her apprenticeship under Sheila Cartwright had been wasted.
(In fact, approving the new Trustees was Lord Beni-ston’s last action for Bracketts. Confident that he had done his bit during the two years of his involvement, he resigned, quickly to join the board of another, rather more prestigious, heritage property. For him the change had three advantages: first, the patron of the new organization was a minor member of the Royal Family, so he was mixing with his own sort of people; second, it had been agreed that, so long as his name appeared on the letterhead, he wouldn’t have to attend any meetings; and third, he got free membership of the adjacent golf club.)
The reconstituted Board approved Laurence Hawker’s report and accepted Gina’s proposal that the research material should all be handed over to Professor Marla Teischbaum, who was to be given all cooperation in future with her biography of Esmond Chadleigh. (There was only one dissenting voice; unsurprisingly, it belonged to George Ferris.) The hope was that the book would be ready for publication to coincide with the centenary of Esmond’s birth in 2004.