The Lost Soldier by Costeloe Diney Page A

uprooted, but stuck into the ground beneath it was a small frame containing a card on which were printed the words ‘To the unknown soldier’. The Rector was much moved by this small memorial and discussed it at length with the squire. He was finally able to convince the squire that the tree did not detract from the memorial, but rather enhanced it with the addition of yet another man who had made the ultimate sacrifice. The squire allowed him to perform an additional service to dedicate the last tree. Thus the Ashgrove Memorial has since had nine trees. It is unfortunate that the carved stones that Sir George intended to have placed under each tree had not been commissioned when he died and his heirs did nothing about them. The small metal plaques originally naming each man disappeared over the years, and most of the trees are now unmarked, including the ninth tree, the man unidentified to this day. It is fortunate that the eight men are also remembered in the church on a separate memorial, so that it shall not be forgotten that they laid down their lives for their country and for their fellow men.”
    At last as she lay in the quiet darkness of her room, Rachel’s thoughts drifted to Nick Potter and his invitation for this evening. In the circumstances it was a good thing she had refused, but she hadn’t known that at the time. Why had she refused it, she wondered? She hadn’t been out on the town for ages and it might have been fun. She had no regular boyfriend—several embryo relationships had bitten the dust when Rachel had put either her work or her independent lifestyle ahead of the man concerned. As a result she was sometimes lonely and missed having someone special to do things with; perhaps, if Nick did ask her again, she would go. After all, he was an attractive man and, more important to Rachel, he was interesting to talk to. But it would be strictly no strings. Rachel valued her independence too much.

1915
    Belcaster Chronicle
    Friday, 19th March 1915
    OUR BRAVE LADS!
    Nurses from the cottage hospital were among the families and friends who crowded Belcaster Station last Wednesday to wave farewell to our brave lads. Any tears shed by those left behind were tears of pride as our boys set off to France at last, to do battle with the Hun. The 1st Belshire Light Infantry are newly trained and ready for action and they will soon be joining their comrades at the front holding the lines against the German aggressor. A group of pals from Charlton Ambrose, (pictured below) with their officer Lieutenant Frederick Hurst, were in high spirits as they set off with their mates to fight for king and country. Look out Kaiser Bill! Our lads are on their way and there are plenty more where they come from!

5
    The post lay on the brass plate in the front hall when Sarah came down for breakfast, and, seeing the letter with the French stamp addressed to her in a familiar, sloping hand, she caught it up and ran back upstairs to the privacy of her own room. Sitting on the window seat, she held the letter unopened in her hand for a moment, almost afraid to open it. She looked out over the dear, familiar garden, bright with the autumn morning. Sunlit struck fire from the beech trees that lined the outer edge of the paddock, and chrysanthemums in the bed against the southern wall of the vegetable garden glowed golden, orange and rust against the mellow stonework. As always, she thought of Freddie and wondered if he would ever see the garden again.
    “None of that, Sarah,” she admonished herself, and drawing a deep breath, she slit the envelope and drew out the letter.
    My dear Sarah,
    Thank you for your letter. It was lovely to hear from you after so long. I am glad your father remains in good health and that so far Freddie is safe.
    You ask if you may come and work with us here, but though you tell me you have done your Red Cross nurse’s training and have been helping at your local hospital I am not sure it equips you to work