A Mother Forever

by Elaine Everest

  Derek looked a little sheepish.

  ‘Is there something you’ve not told me?’ she asked, as warning bells started to ring.

  ‘I showed Eddie some of the letters where Mum mentioned you . . .’

  Ruby was shocked. ‘Oh no! Why did you do that?’

  ‘You’ve got to remember that we are – were – comrades. When men are thrown together like that, fighting and putting up with all sorts, we tend to bond. Eddie could be bloody irritating at times, brave but bolshie; and one day, when he kept saying how wonderful you were while I was tired and hungry, I pulled Mum’s letters out of my pocket and threw them at him.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Nothing. Only minutes after that, I was injured and didn’t see him again.’

  Ruby put her head in her hands and sighed. Knowing how hot-headed Eddie could be, he could have done something really daft and, rather than write to ask her about Stella’s letters, simply vanished. It was then that Stella’s dying words came back to her . . .

  ‘I’m sorry, Ruby.’

  ‘That’s what your mum said just before she died . . . She was sorry.’

  ‘I’ll do all I can to find him for you.’

  Ruby hoped that Derek would be true to his word. She just wanted her husband back home with her, safe and sound. Or, if the worst was true, she wanted to able to mourn him properly.

  17

  11th November 1919

  ‘Have you ever been to London before, Mum?’ Pat asked. She hung on to Ruby’s arm as they were jostled by the crowd. ‘Everyone seems so sad.’

  Ruby looked through the crowd and could just see the outline of Buckingham Palace. ‘Yes, love, I came up to London when George was young. The late king had died, and we came to pay our respects. That day, we went to a place called Westminster in another part of London, and it took hours just to get to where the king’s body lay in state. That was even more sad than today, but we wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’

  Ruby was thoughtful as she remembered the day. George would have been ten years of age. Stella had been alive, as had Donald, and all the men had been young, fit and happy without any thought of war hanging over their heads. She remembered Eddie had been missing that day, as he had so many others, and the sadness and fear that came to haunt her so often returned with a vengeance – but then she thought of their few stolen hours together later that night. ‘God, Eddie, how I miss you,’ she whispered to herself.

  She looked around her at the men in uniform. So many still looked weary, but many wore their injuries with pride. There were as many men and women in uniform as there were in civilian clothes. Had it really only been a year since the guns stopped firing and Great Britain was declared the winner of the war?

  She’d been at work that day, when word filtered through that the war was finally over. The women had laid down their tools, somewhat confused.

  ‘I suppose that means we’re out of work?’ Cissie had said as the foreman came over.

  ‘Keep working, girls, no one’s told us to stop. If you want to take home a pay packet at the end of the week, it’s best you do your quota. There’ll be other wars that need bombs,’ he’d said, smiling towards Ruby, who had been listening nearby.

  And continue working they had. All Ruby knew was that she turned up at half past seven in the morning and stuffed explosives into bombs; where the bombs would end up being used, she wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t hers to question. So she donned overalls that covered her body, observed the rules of no hair clips or anything metallic that would cause a spark; and she worked hard, knowing the money she took home gave her and Pat a good life. She pondered at times how many men, or even women and children, had died because of her helping to make bombs. She mentioned it once to her friends and they laughed, so she kept it to herself. That is, until one day when she was taking a breather outside the house where they worked and a young foreman stopped to chat. She asked him the same question, and instead of shrugging it off, he told her there would always be a war somewhere.

  ‘However, I’ve been informed that production is about to change. We are going to be extracting powder from the Verey Light cartridges, so at least you’ll still have a job.’

  ‘I’ve prayed for this day,’ she said. ‘I’ve been worried of late about making bombs, now I have a young grandchild.’

  ‘Think of something happier,’ he said. ‘You’re a good worker, Caselton; don’t let your thoughts hold you back. I reckon if the war had continued, you’d have been made a supervisor on the lines. Perhaps one day you’d have been fighting me for my job,’ he’d laughed before walking away.

  Back at Buckingham Palace, being pushed about by the crowds, Ruby suggested to Pat that they move on a little. ‘Don’t forget, George said he would meet us,’ she reminded her. ‘Irene is leaving baby Sarah with her mother. He said to meet us by the gates of the Palace. I don’t know what we were thinking of, coming here today to see the parade amidst these crowds. Why did we not realize there would be so many people? I doubt we will spot them,’ she tutted.

  ‘We will,’ Pat said. ‘We’ve just got to look for a hat covered in silk roses. I helped Irene stitch them onto her best black hat. It was George’s idea, as he knew how Irene wanders off to look in shop windows and he was worried he’d lose her.’

  ‘Why ever did he think of roses when everyone is talking of poppies?’

  ‘She had them in a vase in her front room, so thought they’d do. I do think poppies would have looked prettier,’ Pat said, considering her mum’s words. ‘Why do people think so much of poppies?’

  ‘They are seen as a symbol of the war, which is now called the War to End All Wars,’ Ruby explained. ‘The poppies grew on the battlefields after the guns stopped.’ Thinking of this turned her mind once more to her friends and what the war had done to them.

  Frank was back home, his face haunted by what he’d seen. He’d told her that there was a time when for weeks on end they had never removed their boots or even slept, as the guns pounded relentlessly while they tended to the injured and dying. He’d remained at the field hospital, where he had done every job imaginable. Ruby had wanted to know more about what that was like, but Frank refused to go into detail, saying that it would only haunt her dreams.

  ‘A lady should never see what I have seen. If anything, it has reinforced my belief that war is terrible and no side ever really wins; so what is the point in fighting?’ He would argue long into the night whenever the two friends got together.

  Frank had given Ruby a copy of a poem and told her to read it often, and understand the words, and to make sure that Pat too understood the futility of war. The poem was ‘In Flanders Fields’ by John Alexander McRae, a poet who had served in the war. Ruby wasn’t one for poetry, only ever having read nursery rhymes to the children when they were younger, but this poem resonated greatly with what she’d read, and the little she had been told of the war was brought home to her by its simple lines. She had copied the words out for Pat to keep and understand and not forget.

  As she stood there now, just by the crowds, she murmured the words. ‘In Flanders fields the poppies blow . . .’

  Was Eddie one of the fatalities of war? Did he have poppies marking the spot where he’d perished?

  Derek had been as good as his word and written numerous letters to those in authority, but their replies had failed to explain what had happened to Eddie or where he might be. Ruby needed to know, so that she could move on with her life. It was as if she was in perpetual mourning. Several times, one of the younger foremen at work had invited Ruby to go to the picture house with him or even just take a walk, and she’d had to explain that until she knew what had happened to her husband she would have to refuse – even though, as she admitted to herself, she found him very handsome.

  ‘Well, I’ll be blowed,’ Ruby said, as Pat started to jump up and down with excitement as she spotted Irene and her hat. ‘I shall have to borrow that hat for next time we go shopping i
n Woolwich market and you wander off.’

  ‘Mother, don’t you dare,’ Pat scolded before pushing through the crowd and leaping onto her big brother. ‘We found you,’ she exclaimed as she beckoned to Ruby to hurry up and join them.

  ‘That is certainly a startling hat, Irene,’ Ruby said, admiring Irene’s handiwork.

  ‘It’s suited the purpose of standing out in the crowd, and at least you found me,’ Irene said. ‘You must help me remove the roses now, though. My mother would be rather upset to find I’d used them to adorn a hat, rather than letting them sit in the crystal vase she also purchased.’

  Ruby looked at George. ‘You seem rather miserable, my dear – is this upsetting you?’

  ‘No, Mum. I feel, one year on from the end of the war, it is rather uplifting. The two minutes’ silence will give me much to think about,’ he answered.

  All the same, Ruby thought, there was more on his mind than he was saying. She knew her son well.

  ‘Mum has a picnic,’ Pat exclaimed. ‘When can we eat it?’ she asked.

  ‘After we’ve observed the two minutes’ silence and watched the march past. We can walk to find somewhere to sit and eat our food. It looks like there’s a pretty park over there.’ She nodded to where they could see the top of trees.

  ‘As long as everybody else doesn’t have the same idea,’ Irene pointed out. ‘It is rather chilly to be eating a picnic.’

  ‘Are the king and queen going to come out on the balcony?’ Pat asked. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to see them.’

  ‘Don’t worry, squirt, I’ll lift you up on my shoulders,’ George told her. ‘Perhaps you ought to remove your hat as well, my dear?’ he said to his wife. ‘I fear the people behind will not be able to see a thing.’

  ‘I’m beginning to think it wasn’t such a good idea after all,’ Irene said.

  Ruby linked arms with her daughter-in-law. ‘Come on, let’s see if we can find a better place to view the balcony. I don’t know about you, but I can’t believe a year has gone by since the war ended.’

  ‘And our little Sarah is fourteen months old and such a sweetheart. With the war over and a bright future ahead of us, I have such plans for my child’s life.’

  Ruby sniffed. She hoped Sarah would not grow up to become one of those snooty women who Irene and her mother mixed with. Although Irene was nice enough, she could turn on her poshness at the drop of a hat.

  When the cannon in a nearby park fired to mark the start of the two minutes’ silence, Ruby found that standing there, head bowed, was rather upsetting. It made her think of young Donald – such a waste of life – and of dear Stella, who would no doubt have been here today if not for the war dragging her down, and then the terrible Spanish flu. Her mind wandered to Derek and how he’d coped with his terrible injuries with the help of his devoted Susannah. They doted over their son, who had been named Donald in memory of the much-missed youngest Green brother. Wilf had become a permanent fixture at Derek’s home, helping his son with his carpentry business and enjoying the happy family atmosphere. So much so that he’d recently announced he was signing over his tugboat to his brothers and selling his home in Alexandra Road. Ruby knew it was for the best, but even so she felt sad whenever she walked out of her front door and saw the board on the wall declaring the house was for sale.

  As the cannon fired a second time to mark the end of the two minutes, Ruby’s thoughts turned to Eddie. Her heart ached just thinking about him. Their last meeting before he went off to war was etched on her heart, and all she dreamt of was him returning to her. Had he perished, or was he still alive? If indeed he had died, then he deserved to have his name recorded as such. Then at least she could continue with her life, even if it was a hollow shell of what it had been when Eddie loved her. She knew she needed to move on now, and perhaps marry again – if any man would take her, with her yellow-tinted face from working at the Gilbert munition works.

  George slipped his arm around her shoulder as Pat skipped ahead with Irene. ‘A penny for them, Mum? You were miles away.’

  ‘I was thinking about your dad. Do you know it’s been five years since I last saw him? We corresponded while he was in the army, and then it just stopped. I really would like to know what happened to him, even if it was something bad.’

  ‘What do you mean by bad?’

  Ruby thought for a moment. ‘I don’t mean him being dead, because I now believe that if he really were dead, I’d have been informed. Derek wrote a few letters last year looking for information, and nothing came of it. It’s as if Eddie has vanished off the face of the earth.’

  George shook his head in disbelief. ‘Honestly, Mum. I know he’s my dad, but I could swing for him. He’s led you a merry dance all these years, and you deserve better. I couldn’t believe it when you told me about him and all that Cedric business.’

  ‘We’ve got to find him first, before you can even think about fisticuffs.’

  ‘I wonder. Is there anyone who knew him – anyone you could ask who might have heard from him since 1914? Perhaps once you’ve checked with everyone, you can go to the police and have him declared dead?’

  ‘I still love him, George. Call me daft, but I do. You’ve got a point there, though. I’ll have to sit down and make a list. I’ll ask the Green lads to help out as well. You never know; we might just come across something that’ll lead us to him,’ she smiled.

  George grinned back, although personally he believed that his dad didn’t want to be found. However, he loved his mum far too much to argue.

  18

  24th December 1921

  Ruby couldn’t have been more surprised if Father Christmas had jumped out in front of her and said ‘boo’.

  It was Christmas Eve 1921, and nearly the end of the working day. All the girls in the munitions factory were excitedly talking about heading into town to pick up the last of their shopping, then going home to their families to enjoy Christmas. Along with Jean and Doreen, Ruby was going to meet Cissie, who had given up working down at Gilbert’s after having her baby son, Cyril. The girls liked to keep in touch, and all had little parcels wrapped up for the new baby.

  Ruby had been summoned to the manager’s office, and she feared it was to be given her cards. After all, she was one of the older women working in the sheds, and the company had recently taken on many younger women. There’d been a new influx of work the week before, and she knew there would be more coming after Christmas. The move over to breaking open Verey Light cartridges and extracting the powder within had been different to filling shells and cartridges, but it was still a job. After the war ended all shells were decommissioned, and this gave welcome work to the women who had been in munitions. There was plenty for everyone to do and Ruby was glad of that, because despite her searching high and low, she had found no trace of her husband in the last few years. Even though she now owned her home, she still needed to be able to support herself and Pat.

  What pleased her most about the change in her work was that the yellow tint to her skin had gradually faded away. During the war, she and her friends had quite enjoyed people looking at them when they went out together – they were nicknamed the Canary Girls, and Ruby saw it as a mark of their contribution to the war effort. She was proud when people looked her way. All the time they worked with the explosive materials, their skin remained tinted yellow.

  Oh well, if she was going to get the sack, she’d just have to think about doing something else for a living. Perhaps George could put a word in for her. It was easy enough to get to Crayford and the Vickers factory from her house.

  Thinking of George, her heart ached to see him. Only weeks before, he and Irene had sold up and moved their family to Devon. Irene was full of it, and had found a beautiful house close to the sea. When at such a tender age George had been offered promotion to management, Irene had jumped at the chance of moving up in the world, but Ruby had wept when she heard the news. She doted on little Sarah now she was walking and starting to chatter;
she completely melted her grandmother’s heart. George had promised that they would come often to visit; after all, he needed to visit the Crayford works to be able to continue his job as a designer in the engineering section of the company. He’d said he would bring Sarah with him, although Irene had mentioned that she was sure she would be very busy creating a home and hoped that Ruby would visit them instead. Ruby was disappointed with Irene: the girl was becoming more like her mother every day. But she had always said she wouldn’t interfere, and so she didn’t. George seemed happy enough.

  Tapping on the office door and entering when told to do so, she was surprised to see not only the manager but also the owner of the filling factory, as it was known.

  ‘Sit down, Mrs Caselton,’ the manager said, picking up a folder with her name on the front. ‘I see you’ve been with us for quite a while now.’ He tapped his fingers on the desk, looking at the paperwork before passing it to the owner.

  Ruby waited for the owner of the factory to say something, but he simply looked at the couple of sheets of paper and nodded back to the manager. Ruby wasn’t sure he ever spoke; in the times he’d come to inspect the factory she had only ever seen him walking round, deep in thought.

  Here it comes, she thought, sacked on Christmas Eve because I’m older than the new workers. But I won’t let them see me upset. I’ll take it on the chin. She waited, looking steadily at the men.

  ‘Mrs Caselton, you may have noticed that there have been some changes in the factory since you joined us.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ was all she said.

  ‘With the war being over, we no longer make munitions for the forces . . .’

  Does he think I’m blind, she thought to herself? We’ve not made a bomb in a while now. Come on, get to the point . . .

  ‘These days our work is breaking down the ammunition, sending the shells for scrap and the contents for other uses,’ he rambled on.