Starting Over

by Jack Sheffield

  Tom was in despair. ‘The truth! It’s been a lie from the start.’

  Again, Rudi measured his words. ‘We have a word in German – Notlüge.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘In English you would say a “white lie”.’

  ‘A white lie is still a lie.’

  ‘Tom, she had no choice.’

  ‘Choice? She chose you as her lover.’

  ‘We were young and it was a long time ago. We were both trapped, her as a Land Girl knowing no one and in a difficult family, and me as a prisoner-of-war working on the farm. We were drawn to each other.’

  ‘So why was it a white lie?’

  ‘Because it was Florence who made the decision to hide the truth. She was so deeply ashamed. She thought it would protect Lily from what people would think of her as an unmarried mother.’

  There was a silence between them as realization began to dawn for Tom.

  ‘I can understand that,’ he muttered. ‘That’s how people think.’

  Rudi could see the tension starting to fall away from Tom and he stepped closer. ‘I don’t want to leave without giving Lily a chance of happiness. She is a wonderful woman.’

  ‘That’s what I thought, but she has been living a lie with me.’

  ‘Please give her the opportunity to make things right.’

  ‘How can I? Everything I believed to be true has gone.’

  ‘But not your love for her.’

  Tom sighed, knowing this was true. ‘What about Freddie? Does he know?’

  ‘No, and he mustn’t know for his own protection.’

  ‘Yes, I can understand that – he’s half German.’

  ‘I know, but is that so bad?’

  ‘I spent five years fighting Germans. If we had met I would have tried to kill you.’

  ‘And I you.’ Rudi breathed deeply and nodded towards the boys playing cricket in the sunshine. ‘I want Freddie to have a good life here in England.’

  Tom shook his head. ‘So why are you going? Why run away from your responsibilities?’

  ‘I ran away from them because I could not give my son what he needs most of all.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘A stable home, security and a loving family.’

  ‘Perhaps you ought to try.’

  ‘It’s too late.’ Rudi stared up at the sky. ‘Tom, she loves you – and if you have any sense you will see that.’

  Tom’s shoulders slumped. He felt beaten. ‘I don’t even know your name.’

  Rudi looked around. ‘Can we go somewhere else, somewhere more private?’

  Tom hesitated, then nodded towards the woods to the east of the village. ‘There’s a path,’ he said, and they set off together.

  Back in the school office, Vera had completed the end-of-year attendance registers and John was writing the total in the school logbook. Through the open window Vera could see children playing on the school field and Lily and Anne Watson walking in the sunshine. The office was quiet and Vera decided to seize the opportunity.

  ‘I was just saying to Miss Watson that there’s a teaching post coming up at Ragley in January.’

  ‘Yes,’ said John, ‘I’m sure she would be an asset to any school.’

  ‘Most certainly. Her teaching practice was excellent and, of course, she is now familiar with our children.’

  ‘She would need to apply through the official channels,’ said John with a note of caution.

  I’ve already mentioned that to her, thought Vera. ‘Of course, Mr Pruett.’

  ‘The school governors would have their say,’ added John.

  ‘Naturally,’ said Vera, in the knowledge that her brother, Joseph, as chair of governors, would do as she told him.

  ‘Thanks, Vera,’ said John, ‘that’s very helpful,’ and he closed the logbook, locked it in the bottom drawer of his desk and set off for the Ragley cricket field to umpire one of the games.

  Vera watched him go and smiled, pleased with her tactical acumen and with the thought that, like all good school secretaries, she could manipulate the headteacher to her way of thinking.

  Rudi and Tom walked in silence through the woods until they reached a stile that led to one of Stan Coe’s fields, and they sat down. Wild honeysuckle grew among the brambles, filling the air with its heavy scent. Rudi took a crumpled cigarette packet from the top pocket of his shirt. ‘Cigarette?’

  ‘Thanks, no – I don’t.’

  Rudi leaned back against the fence and lit his cigarette.

  Tom looked at him curiously. ‘So, tell me about you.’

  Rudi stared down at the ground and drew on his cigarette. ‘I’m Rudolph Krüger, but my friends call me Rudi.’ He paused, searching for the right words. ‘I was born in nineteen twenty-four.’

  Tom gave a forced smile. ‘So was I.’

  ‘My childhood was in Pomerania on the Baltic coast and then in nineteen forty-two I was conscripted into the Wehrmacht, the German army. All my friends joined. There was no choice.’

  ‘Same for me, I suppose,’ said Tom. ‘We had to crush Hitler.’

  Rudi nodded. ‘They sent me to the Eastern Front. It was a cruel winter. Minus thirty. Somehow I survived. Then suddenly we were in retreat from Russia. It was chaos.’

  ‘I read about it,’ said Tom. ‘It must have been hard.’

  Rudi looked thoughtful. ‘It was.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘I was captured in Belgium by American soldiers. It was a relief to know it was over. I was given food and drink and we marched seven hundred miles to Marseilles.’

  ‘Marseilles? What then?’

  ‘We were put on a troop ship to Maryland in West Virginia and then there was another ship to Liverpool. I was transported to a prisoner-of-war camp in Hertfordshire, near a village called Much Hadham. By then my name was changed to “Krueger” as there was no umlaut key on their typewriter.’

  Tom shook his head. ‘What a journey.’

  ‘Labour was in short supply, so prisoners were needed to work on the land. I was sent to Amersham in Buckinghamshire and I lived in a wooden hut on a farm. It felt like home to me. You will have guessed the rest. I met a Land Girl called Lily, fell in love and she had a baby. I had no say in what happened next. Her mother, Florence, took her away. Before she left she told me I had shamed her daughter and her family. I carried on working on the farm.’ He sighed and stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Finally I have saved enough to return to Germany.’

  On the High Street Vera cut a striking, elegant figure as she strode towards the Morton road. Another school day was over and she was pleased she had spoken with Edna Trott about getting some help for her with the school cleaning.

  Parked outside the church was George Hardcastle, who had delivered his wife to Joseph’s ‘Care in the Community’ seminar. When he saw Vera walking towards him his stomach knotted in anguish.

  I wish I had a Vera in my life, he thought. Instead I’ve got a Wilhelmena.

  He hoped Vera would notice his new car. It was a low-slung two-seater Austin Healey 100. At £1,064 it was the world’s cheapest 100 mph sports car. Red with a black interior, a 90 bhp four-cylinder engine, rakish wire wheels and fold-flat windscreen, it could reach 60 mph in ten seconds. With nine out of ten being exported to the USA, it was rare to see one in the UK, so when George had pulled up all heads had turned. Sadly, there was not a flicker of recognition from Vera. Extreme displays of extravagance did not appeal to the vicar’s elder sister and George was left to wonder why he had chosen Wilhelmena as his wife – or had it been the other way round?

  Tom and Rudi had walked back to Rudi’s car, parked in a shady spot on the Morton road near the church.

  ‘I am pleased we have spoken,’ said Rudi.

  Tom had come to appreciate the efforts of this strange German. It was clear his experience of war had been traumatic, and he had emerged older and wiser. Although Tom could not imagine leaving behind a child to begin a new life, he understood the log
ic behind the thinking of this articulate man.

  ‘So am I,’ he said.

  Rudi was insistent. ‘Freddie thinks Florence is his mother and it has to stay like that.’

  Tom considered this carefully. ‘That will be for Lily to decide.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Rudi stretched out his hand – a significant moment for both men. Tom recognized the gesture of an enemy who had become a brief acquaintance and he grasped Rudi’s hand in a firm handshake. ‘Good luck, Rudi.’

  Rudi’s grey eyes were unblinking as he returned the young policeman’s searching gaze. He opened his car door, but then he turned again. There was a final thought he wished to share. ‘Tom … Lily wants to be in your life, but because of the mistake we both made she will not allow herself to accept happiness with another man. She’s a wonderful woman and does not deserve to suffer because of one silly mistake she made as a teenager in wartime. It’s tragic, because she deserves a life. She would like it to be with you, but believes she is not good enough.’ He climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine and wound down the window. ‘You and I both know that is not true.’

  After he had driven away, Tom stood there for a long time staring at the empty road.

  For Lily it was a restless night, and as she lay awake in the early hours she saw there was no moon, only backlit clouds that covered the land with shadows of confusion. There were tears on her face as she stared at the empty pillow beside her. Many years had passed since she had known joy with Rudi. As time went on it had been replaced with a constant pain and emptiness.

  Her mother had told her that what she had done would ruin her life and that she, Florence, knew the best way forward. She recalled the bitterness that had spilled from her mother’s lips and how she had wilted before the onslaught.

  Finally she fell asleep and in her dreams she saw Rudi and Tom – two good men, side by side … but a world apart.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Starting Over

  It was a false dawn as a thin ambient light cast a ghostly shadow on Lily’s bedroom wall. She had been awake for many hours and knew she had to face the world and accept her destiny. The time of renewal had arrived. It was Friday, 24 July, the final day of the school year. There were children to teach and they relied on her. This was her life; Ragley had become her home. Her past would remain a secret.

  Finally she slipped out of bed and opened her bedroom window as a sliver of sun crested the horizon and dawn raced across the land. It was another perfect morning in this beautiful part of the world. The air was warm and humid, only the slightest breeze wafting the fields of ripening barley that stretched to the horizon.

  Lily heard the stairs creak as Florence crept down to the kitchen to prepare a pot of tea – a morning ritual that never changed.

  She reflected on her relationship with her mother. It had altered over the years and she knew her father’s death had taken something from Florence that could never be replaced. The doctor had said he would have felt no pain, but that provided little solace. So Florence had carved out a new life with Lily and Freddie; it was the best she could hope for. Lily, meanwhile, had settled for what she considered to be the only decent solution – an outcome that meant Freddie was with her, part of a close-knit family, but never her son … never her very own.

  In life there was always a price to pay.

  She walked to the chair next to her dressing table and picked up her handbag. She opened it and took out the black-and-white photograph that she always kept there. Then she smiled. It was Freddie when he was a baby. For Lily it was balm to a troubled soul and provided her with comfort and strength to face another day. Last night had been like many others, her dreams filled with echoing ghosts. Looking at this photograph always gave her solace.

  Perhaps one day it may be different, she thought, but not now … not now.

  Lily ate her breakfast with Freddie while Florence busied herself in the kitchen. It was a special time of the day, when she watched the young boy with deep affection and talked to him about the day ahead.

  ‘Good luck on your last day, Freddie,’ she said. ‘When you go back after the summer you’ll be in the juniors – one of the big boys.’

  Freddie grinned and pushed his empty cereal bowl to one side. ‘I’m a big boy now,’ he said defiantly.

  ‘Well, be good and enjoy today, and then it’s the holidays and we can have fun together.’

  Lily made sure he had a clean handkerchief in his pocket, then she prepared to go and leave him with Florence.

  ‘Good luck, Lily,’ said Florence guardedly. ‘Hope today goes well,’ she added, but there was no warmth in the message.

  ‘Thanks, Mother,’ replied Lily. She gave Freddie a hug and set off on her bicycle.

  A refreshing breeze blew in her face and, as always, she slowed on the bend where she had been forced off the road many months ago. In contrast, on this quiet morning the scene was a peaceful one, with cattle in the fields chewing the cud under the welcome shade of a copse of sycamores. Honeysuckle and wild roses intertwined among the hedgerows as she passed Pratt’s garage and Coe Farm before Ragley village came in sight.

  Lily slowed as she reached the top of the High Street. To her surprise there was a brightly painted gypsy caravan parked on the village green. It was causing great interest and a few curious children were trying to peer through the windows, but the blinds were drawn and no sounds could be heard from within.

  Edna Trott was at the school gate, leaning on her yard broom and talking to John Pruett. They were staring at the caravan. Lily dismounted and propped her bicycle against the school wall.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘This is interesting.’

  ‘It’s Seaside Gladys, Miss Briggs,’ said Edna.

  ‘Seaside Gladys?’

  ‘She comes every year during the school summer holidays,’ explained John. ‘The children are always excited.’

  ‘Ah’ve no doubt she’ll be out sellin’ lucky ’eather an’ clothes pegs,’ said Edna. ‘She goes door to door an’ if y’cross ’er palm wi’ silver she’ll tell y’fortune.’

  ‘I’ve never had my fortune told,’ said Lily.

  ‘Perhaps you should,’ said John with a gentle smile. ‘You never know what might be in store for you.’ He glanced up at the clock tower. ‘Anyway, things to do,’ and he set off up the cobbled drive.

  ‘Mebbe you ought t’give it a try, Miss Briggs,’ said Edna with a grin.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Lily.

  Edna could see the doubt on Lily’s face. ‘Talk t’Ruby. Seaside Gladys is ’er aunty from Skegness. Ruby told me that Gladys were born on t’day Queen Victoria died in 1901 an’ that it gave ’er some sort o’ special power.’

  ‘And what might that be?’ asked Lily with a smile.

  ‘She knows what’s goin’ to ’appen before it ’appens.’

  Lily stretched out her hand to the wicker basket on the front of her bicycle and rested it on her handbag. ‘I’m not sure I would want to know,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Mebbe not, Miss Briggs,’ Edna nodded sagely. ‘’Cause ah’ve ’eard she tells it ’ow it is.’

  In the staff-room Vera was holding forth while John and Lily listened intently.

  ‘Now don’t forget you are all invited to this evening’s soirée at the vicarage. It’s to celebrate the end of another successful school year. Joseph and I have invited staff, governors and one or two special friends. So we’ll expect you at half past seven for drinks and nibbles.’

  ‘Thank you, Vera,’ said John, ‘we shall look forward to it.’

  ‘I’ve asked Millicent to come along, Lily, so she can give you a lift.’

  ‘That’s helpful,’ said Lily. ‘You seem to have thought of everything.’

  Vera looked down at the list in her pocket notebook. ‘Well, yes, I hope so. This evening should be fine.’ She gave John a demanding stare. ‘However, there is much to do today, as I’m sure you are aware. We have notes to pa
rents to send out informing them that school reopens on Monday, the seventh of September, plus the advert for the new teaching post to be forwarded to County Hall.’

  John nodded and looked at Lily. ‘Also the children’s reports have to be taken home at the end of school,’ he said. ‘We shall need those in sealed envelopes.’

  ‘All in hand, Mr Pruett,’ said the ever-efficient Vera. ‘Lily has already completed hers.’

  John, slightly nonplussed, hurried off to prepare the morning assembly and ring the school bell.

  Joseph arrived for assembly along with Elsie Crapper, who accompanied a rousing rendition of ‘When a Knight Won His Spurs’. This was followed by Lily’s school choir singing a sweet version of ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’. John told the children his own version of Oscar Wilde’s tale ‘The Selfish Giant’ and Lily realized that perhaps she had misjudged him, for he was clearly a gifted storyteller.

  After Joseph had led the children in the Lord’s Prayer, John wished the school leavers every success when they moved on to Easington Secondary School. It was then that Phoebe Fawnswater looked around with curiosity as she realized that when it was her turn to leave Ragley School she would be separated from all her friends. She would be driving into York with her mother to commence her secondary education at the Time School for Girls, with its smart uniform, straw hats and hockey sticks. Phoebe suddenly wasn’t sure she liked the idea.

  Malcolm Robinson looked sadly at his giant cousin and Big Dave nodded back knowingly. School would be different for them for the next academic year until Malcolm moved up to the big school. However, as their two families always went on holiday together each summer, a week at Butlins in Skegness beckoned and thoughts of schooldays to come were quickly forgotten.

  At morning break Lily was on duty and was surprised to see David Robinson talking to Winnie Pickles, watched by a bewildered Malcolm. Big Dave always prided himself on never talking to girls, but today was clearly different.

  ‘So are you looking forward to secondary school?’ asked Lily.

  ‘Yes, Miss,’ said Winnie. ‘We’ll learn ’ow t’cook wi’ proper ovens.’