And all the other weddings earlier in the year: Doris Groves and Albert Jones had been the first and Arthur had been astonished at the way Albert’s mental wounds had been lessened by the caring Doris. Albert and Arthur had spent much time together and the younger man had told Arthur how he had travelled to the small village in Yorkshire and called on Nellie Marsden. His visit had revealed that her husband, Mike, had been killed, the letter from his sergeant stating that he died instantly in an explosion. She had been grateful that Albert told her of her husband’s bravery; Albert relieved that no accusation of cowardice had ever been suggested in official letters. Nellie had told Albert that her parents were now living with her and together they were coping well with the large family.
Two weeks earlier, Doris, proudly cradled seven-week-old James, whilst Albert told Arthur they were emigrating to New Zealand in a year’s time when their son would be old enough for the long journey. Albert had corresponded much with Robert Grayson and his wife. They admitted to struggling on their farm near Little River and how they could certainly offer plenty of work to Albert along with a cottage for his family. Sadly, his son Martin had been killed two months before the end of the war. In one of the letters home, Martin had told his parents about the time he spent with a young Englishman in a shell-hole and how they had talked about the farm.
Weddings of young men returning from the war had been expected, but the marriage of Violet Rushton and Robert Berry was a surprise, one that delighted the many who knew them. They now lived above Violet’s shop, the storeroom where the soldiers’ parcels had been prepared having been pleasantly converted into a well-appointed additional room. Violet had happily agreed to the transfer of her husband’s treasured Union Jack from Sandy Lane to their garden overlooking the village green.
On a beautiful mid-July day, Abraham Richards and Grace Reynolds had married. As he now stood alone in the churchyard, Arthur pictured the large numbers that had cheered as the couple stepped out of the church. The village youngsters, who had followed every race that their hero won, had joined the many guests for the joyous occasion. The wedding feast had been in Jack Mansfield’s barn, beautifully decorated by their many friends. As Grace had told Doris, ‘Abraham and I want it to be there because that’s where we fell in love at that Easter-time party seven years ago.’ She added, with her engaging smile: ‘Although, I suppose we should really have held it in the infants’ classroom as I liked Abraham when I saw him there on my first day at school!’ Abraham was now assistant manager at Spinney Farm where one of the attractive cottages was enjoyed by the young couple as their first home.
To Arthur, the most wonderful of all weddings had taken place not in Rusfield, but at St Peter’s in Ealing. Jack had married Patricia with both Arthur and Olivia recognised as parents of the groom. Arthur would forever be indebted to Jack for his courage in speaking to the congregation at St Mary’s, following his own confession. After Arthur had moved down from the pulpit to speak to the many present, Jack, grasping his mother’s hand, had walked forward and the three had joined hands together. Jack had spoken of his pride in his parents, Olivia and Arthur. Arthur thought back to how he had expected the admission to be greeted with anger and much criticism, but had found only surprise and love. When they saw each other now, Olivia and Arthur no longer had to hide behind the disguise of priest and parishioner; they were dear friends and the proud parents of a splendid son. Arthur had seen Patricia earlier in the morning walking from the cottage vacated by Robert Berry; now the home for the young couple. Jack had recently taken over as manager of the bakery in Steepleton and hoped to own the flourishing business one day.
Before moving off to the school, Arthur sat for a few minutes in the quietness of St Mary’s. He was still uncertain of his own future. Some of the church’s utterances still found no favour with him, but he felt much more certain of a God whose presence was never far away. He now shared Eleanor’s love for the Sermon on the Mount and understood Christ’s love shown in his suffering on the cross. He rejoiced in a firmer foundation for his own faith.
After the knowledge of him being Jack’s father had not lessened the villagers’ regard for him, he realised how much he wanted to stay in the village. He had again met with the dean who had indicated his support and promised to encourage the new bishop to reconsider the intended reprimand and Arthur’s removal from Rusfield. A final decision was awaited. Before leaving Eleanor’s grave, Arthur looked across the age-old churchyard and noticed a buzzard sitting in its favoured tree by the village green.
Now, as he sat on the slightly raised podium and looked out at the children enthusiastically singing their morning hymn, he felt the village to be in good hands. He was sure any decline in the school numbers over the next year or so, would soon be put right.
The following Saturday, Abraham, Jack and Albert met at The George, the first time for many weeks. Turning to his lifelong friend, Jack put down his glass and asked: ‘Well Racer, another championship race won last month, so what about the Olympics next year? Antwerp isn’t it?’
Abraham with a slight smile replied: ‘Well, I hope so, I managed to equal the best time I did before the war, but I need to do better than that. I can only hope to be there.’
‘Oh, you’ll be there,’ responded Boney. ‘All Rusfield will be cheering you on, including Fred, Willy and Jammy.’
‘Well, I can hardly let them down.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Whilst any errors rest with the author, he particularly acknowledges the help of:
Jennie, my wife, who supported me from the outset
Jane Bennett, my daughter, whose help in every aspect of the book was a major driving force.
Naomi, Alice and Hannah of Troubador Publishing Ltd.
Charlotte Fausset, whose drawing of the village brings Rusfield further alive.
John Temperton of United Kingdom Athletics
British Postal Museum & Archive
Royal Gunpowder Mills, Waltham Abbey
Author contact: [email protected]
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