The declaration of war on Germany on August 4th, 1914, changed all this. And yet every man in the battalion wanted to get over there and knock hell out of Kaiser Bill and Little Willie’s stinking army. Get them over to France and they would do the job in no time. They’d let them see who was boss.
Mobilisation had been immediate. Although there was confusion created by the wording of the telegrams sent out: MOBILISE STOP ACKNOWLEDGE—should they mobilise, or should they stop mobilising?—eventually all the reservists were called up. And such was the response by volunteers in the North-east that new battalions were formed and became known as the Second Line.
The country was boiling with excitement; and soon women were stirring the pot, glorying in the sound of marching feet, the laughing faces, the waving hands of the men making their way to the embarkation ports, all heroes: the blood of so many was to soak the soil of France within days; and the women, wives or mothers, high and low in the land, would receive their telegrams and mourn their dead, comforted only by the thought that they had died for their country.
It is strange that as time went on, death did not affect the people’s loyalty. White feathers were being received by men who did not want to die amid mud and gore, who did not believe in war of any kind, brave men who pointed out that this was an old men’s war, a bungling old men’s war, whose mistakes were killing thousands of men a day, young men, men who had not yet really begun to live.
The churches were full of praying women, praying victory would be theirs through their husbands and sons killing the Germans. God was on their side, so everything would be all right…in the end.
From his bed on the verandah Charles was saying as much to Agnes as she sat by his side: ‘And so, dear,’ he went on, ‘it’s just as well this thing struck me because I would only have hurt Father and Reg, because, thinking as I do, I cannot imagine how I could have gone. Yet, I might have been forced to, for the pressure would likely have been too much for me: Mother’s face, all our friends. I can hear them: Colonel Farrier’s son, a conscientious objector! Coward, more like. You know, darling, that’s the last thing a conscientious objector is, a coward. And I’m not a brave man, I know that. So would I have gone through with it?’
‘Yes, darling, yes, you would, and I would have been with you every step of the way. It’s senseless, utterly senseless. There’s a family in the next street called Noble. I remember Mrs Noble coming into the shop, elated, saying, “He’s gone then. Noble by name and noble by nature.” She had already lost two brothers, but that didn’t seem to matter. Her son, the noble man, had been three days in France when he was killed. She comes in every day now and buys snuff, so Arthur says; Arthur Peeble, you know. Now there’s a changed man since the war. He’s terrified of being called up. But he’s thirty-eight, so I tell him he’ll be all right. Practically every day I have to reassure him. He’s lost all his starch and become quite human.’ She smiled but shivered as she did so.
‘You’re cold.’
‘No, I’m not. How could I be in this get-up? A woollen dress, top coat, a scarf, a woollen hat, hand-knitted gloves and high boots. No, darling, I’m not cold. I think it’s the thought of the war and all it means that makes me shiver. You see, my dear, you say you’re not a brave man, but I know what would have happened if you hadn’t become ill. You would have faced them and, like many others, landed up in jail or been put on degrading work. Have you heard from Reg?’
‘Yes, I had a short note yesterday. He’s expecting a furlough any day now. I long to see him, Aggie. He seems to be the only one I’m concerned about. Henry’s out there too; although he’s in a field station, not in the front line. I was amazed when he wanted to go so badly. Yet why should I be? As Father says, we’re a fighting stock. But as I told him too, there are different wars to be fought.’
‘He knows what you would have done if you had been well?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes, I told him.’
‘I didn’t know. How did he take it?’
‘Sadly, in a way, yet he took it. But he said something that hurt me more than his anger would have done. “You were always the odd man out, Charlie,” he said. “But there’s always one pops up in every generation.”’
‘Oh, Charles!’ She gripped his cold hands. ‘Didn’t he realise how brave you were in making that decision?’
‘He’s a soldier, dear.’
‘What about Reg? Did he know?’
‘Yes; Reg knew, and all he said was that he would have expected me to take this attitude; I would just be keeping to pattern. But he put his hand on my shoulder while he said it. He’s a very understanding fellow, is Reg, underneath all that flamboyancy. He’s a very special person. By the way, darling, he expected to be our best man on this leave. But there it is. As I told you, I nearly walked out when they said another two months at least, which is when they promise me I’ll be as good as new…or nearly.’
‘It doesn’t matter, darling. Two months or ten, I’ll be waiting. Always waiting.’
‘What would I do without you? What would I have done all these months without you?’
‘I know what you would have done without me, you’d have likely been in France now, or in prison.’ She was smiling; but then, the smile fading, she added, ‘You wouldn’t have left home and gone into that awful room if it hadn’t been for me. I’ll never forgive that woman for…’
‘Oh yes, I would, darling. I had been ready for a long time to leave home. I had travelled around a bit, remember, and seen how other people live. I’m no radical, nor do I want to change the world, because there are some very good things, and very good people in it. But apart from feeling hemmed in by codes, I questioned such things as it being one’s right to be waited on hand and foot. Having these ideas, I’ve asked myself whom I take after, and the only one I can think of is Nessy. And she’s no blood connection, being Father’s half-sister. Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you, I had a letter from Henry. And what do you think? He came across her in a hospital station not far behind the lines. We were all very worried about her because at the beginning of the war she just seemed to disappear completely from Paris and her apartment. It was sold, and we felt anything could have happened to her. But there she was, said Henry. Physically she wasn’t much use to anybody, only that she could sit and roll bandages, but spiritually, as he put it, she was a great deal of use, and that was an odd way for him to put it, because she’s an atheist. There was always something about Nessy. As I’ve told you, she gets on with everyone, high and low. You’ll meet her some day, I feel sure of that. It wouldn’t surprise me to see her land on the doorstep at home.’
He still thought of that house, which in a way he had discarded, as home. Perhaps it was natural, but it made her wonder if he would ever consider the rooms above the shop as home. Yes; yes, he would, she told herself firmly, because he had been so sorry to leave them. He had fitted in as, of course, he would anywhere. But he had won her mother’s heart, and Jessie’s. Strangely, too, he had made a friend of Robbie, because that taciturn, raw young man had, albeit unconsciously, taken up the position of batman to him. He had even travelled out here to see him.
She looked down on the thin white face and asked herself what it was about her Charles that caused people to gravitate towards him. Perhaps it was his innate kindness. But then he treated everyone alike: his voice rarely altered, seeming to be the same, she had noticed, when speaking to his father or to Robbie; even on the few occasions his mother had visited him, his tone remained the same.
Oh, that woman! Never, never would there be any understanding between them. She would never forget their last meeting.
It was shortly after Christmas and in the very room leading off this balcony. She had been wearing a winter coat with a large fur collar and cuffs that she had bought from her friends. It had cost her quite a bit of money, four pounds ten, but it had a hat to match. She had already worn it a number of times and become used to it. But when, on that particular day, his mother and she had m
et up, the woman had looked at her in surprise at first, then had let her eyes move slowly over her, until she felt her whole body burning. And such was the effect on her, she was unable to stop her tongue rapping out: ‘Yes, madam, you have doubtless seen this outfit before! I’m sure Mrs Bretton-Fawcett is a friend of yours. And perhaps you know she pays for her millinery with cast-off clothes, and I avail myself of them from my friends the milliners.’
She had watched Grace Farrier’s mouth open and shut a number of times before she turned on her heel and walked away. Later, when she related the incident to Charles he looked at her for a moment before saying, ‘You are the most amazing creature. Who but you would always speak the truth?’ And to this she answered, ‘I don’t always speak the truth because the truth can hurt people. You’ll find out before you’re finished with me, Mr Farrier, that I believe in diplomacy and I’m an expert in the white-lie department.’
How wonderful it was, she thought now, that they could talk to each other in such a fashion, that they understood each other as if their minds had been co-operating for years.
‘Agnes.’
‘Yes, dear?’
‘Do you want children?’
She looked at him tenderly, thoughtfully, before she answered, ‘At the moment I only want you.’
‘That’s no answer. Tell me, without this diplomacy of which you say you are an exponent, do you want children?’
‘If you want them, yes; if not, it doesn’t matter. And that is the truth. Either way, it makes little difference.’
‘What if I were to pass on this disease?’ he said, and she answered, ‘It isn’t hereditary; it’s something you’ve contracted. As I understand it, you only pass on hereditary traits.’
He pursed his pale lips and was about to speak when a bell rang, which caused him to say impatiently, ‘Oh, listen to that! And you haven’t been here five minutes.’
‘I’ve been here a full hour, and I’ll be here on Saturday again, dear. By the way, are you expecting anyone else then?’
He knew to whom she was referring and he said, ‘No; I shouldn’t think so. Mama is going to stay at Berwick for a couple of weeks with a friend. Father is stationed near there now, you know. Oh my, you’ve never seen such a change in a man. He’s lost twenty years, I’m sure, because he is back playing at the old game. But I shouldn’t say that. He was needed, and after all it was his life, and although it isn’t active service, being on an examination board, I know he’s enjoying it. Wouldn’t it have been strange if I’d had to come up before him. By the way, they’ve got a car now; the army, you see, are commandeering all the horses. Father thought it was best to make provision for Mama’s travelling, although they’ve still got Hector and Bruce. But they are fifteen year olds, too old for call-up, apparently. I’m glad of that, because I remember clearly the day they came to the stables as two year olds and they were so sprightly.’
When the bell rang again she quickly bent over him and kissed him hard on the mouth; and he held her for a moment before looking into her eyes and saying, ‘You know that is not encouraged here, Miss Conway.’
‘I love breaking rules.’ Her voice dropping now, and being unable to keep the moisture from her eyes, she whispered, ‘I do love you so. You are never out of my thoughts, dear. Do behave, darling, and do what they say, and that will help you to get home sooner.’
He didn’t speak but lay looking at her as she walked backwards down the narrow balcony that was partitioned off into four sections, and when she lifted her hand in farewell, he answered in similar fashion.
A few minutes later she was talking to the matron. ‘Is he really progressing, Matron?’ she asked. ‘He looks so thin.’
‘Well, that’s to be expected. But yes, indeed, he is progressing. However, he is wayward, is our Mr Farrier, all done in a gentlemanly fashion, of course.’ She smiled broadly now. ‘But if he could have found his clothes last week, I’m sure there would have been a visitor on your doorstep.’
‘I think he’ll behave now. But how long will it be…? Please, give me a truthful answer.’
‘Well, say, two and a half to three months. That will bring his time to a year. But he will have to be very careful. You understand that? No damp sheets, no getting wet feet, and it would be strongly advisable for him to live outside a town, up in the hills, preferably amid plenty of clean fresh air. I understand you live in the centre of Newcastle. Well, I don’t think that would be a suitable atmosphere for him. Yet’—she now shook her head slowly—‘there are hundreds, in fact, thousands of TB patients having to live in towns along the river. Some of them seem to manage. It all depends, I think, on the constitution. I think Mr Farrier has that to his credit.’ Her head on one side, the matron now made a statement which was also a sly enquiry: ‘You have met his people, of course?’
Agnes knew the answer the matron wanted was not just a plain yes or no, but what she thought of them, of his mother in particular. So she evaded the issue by saying, ‘Yes, I have, and they’re a very close family.’
‘Oh.’ The word seemed to express all the surprise the Matron felt at hearing this latter information, for it was more than likely she had been spoken to in that very polite but condescending tone that Mrs Farrier kept for the servant class.
Agnes said goodbye to the matron, adding that she would see her again the following Saturday.
The bus had had very hard seats and the journey back home had seemed endless.
Miss Belle was placing a hat on the stand in the front of the window, and when she signalled to Agnes to come in, Agnes opened the shop door, but kept her hand on the handle as she looked round the low partition and said, ‘I’ll make it later, Miss Belle; I must get upstairs and relieve Mother. I’ve been away for hours, you know.’
‘Oh, I won’t keep you, dear; it’s just to say you look so beautiful. That rig-out was made for you, just made for you.’
She smiled wryly now as, poking her face towards the older woman, she said, ‘It wasn’t made for me, Miss Belle. You and I know whom it was made for, don’t we?’
‘Yes, yes.’ Miss Belle laughed, her head wagging all the time. Then she said, ‘She was in yesterday, but didn’t bring anything with her. Of course she wanted another couple of hats and one for her daughter. Believe it or not, she says she’s doing war work. I would like to know what kind. She didn’t proffer exactly what she was doing, but suggested it was something in a hospital in the city. So, as Rene says, God help the patients.’
Agnes was still smiling to herself as she entered the house by way of the sweetshop; and there Nan halted her by saying, ‘Can you spare a minute, miss? I’ve just got this bairn to serve.’
Agnes went into the storeroom and whilst waiting for Nan she took off her hat and coat. The moment she entered, Nan pointed to the coat that was lying now across Agnes’ arm and said, ‘Eeh! I’ve always admired you in that rig-out, miss. You look lovely.’
‘What did you want to see me about? Something happened?’
Nan drooped her head for a moment before saying, ‘It’s about leavin’, miss.’
‘Leaving? You’re leaving the shop?’
‘Well, miss, my cousin Mary Ellen, she’s from Howdon, she works in a factory, an’, well, it’s like this, miss, she’s makin’ twenty-five shillings a week, an’ I know you’ve put me up to twelve, which is very good for this kind of work, but it’s only half of twenty-five shillings a week. I never seem to get a thing for myself out of me wages; me ma swallows it up in one way or another. So, if you wouldn’t mind, miss, I’d like to give you, well, a fortnight’s notice. I think it’s only fair; I know I’m paid weekly.’
‘Oh, Nan.’
‘I’m…I’m sorry, miss, I really am, but, well, as me mum says, it’s everybody for themselves these days. Some people are makin’ money hand over fist. An’ the war isn’t likely to end for a long time, miss, ’cos we’re gettin’ it in the neck from all quarters. And the fellas are dyin’ like flies. There wasn’t much chance afor
e for me gettin’ married, me ma says, as all the young fellas are bein’ killed off, an’ there’ll be a scramble for men after the war is ended. It’ll be ten women to one man, she says. And in that case my luck would surely be out, so I’ve got to think of meself, miss.’
‘I…I understand, Nan, but I’m sorry you’re going, and I’ll miss you. But you must do whatever you think best.’
‘Thank you, miss. And I’ll miss you, an’ all, I can tell you; you’re a different kettle of fish to your father. With him he would have kept open till twelve at night an’ not a penny extra. An’ he looked down his nose at us. Yet he used to serve in the shop himself, didn’t he? He had a number of sides to him, had your father.’
‘Yes; yes, Nan, as you say, he had a number of sides to him. I must get upstairs. Don’t worry. I’m taking your notice from now, but I’ll be glad if you’ll stay the fortnight.’
‘Oh, I’ll do that, miss, I’ll do that. And ta, thanks very much. But I’ll tell you something.’ She was at the door leading into the shop when she turned and said, ‘I can promise you one thing, I’ll never eat another sweet as long as I live. I’ve had years of them, the smell of them. I’ve only to see a lemon and I think of acid drops. Well, it’s when you open the jars, you know, miss.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Agnes turned away quickly and went upstairs, and when she entered the kitchen her mother rose from her knees beside the bassinet to the side of the fireplace and made the obvious statement, ‘You’re back then.’
The Wingless Bird Page 26