The Wingless Bird

by Catherine Cookson

  ‘Well, I’ll have your share. There’s nothing soothes my soul like whisky, hot or cold.’ Then glancing at Charles, whose hand was out towards the bell pull, Reg said, ‘Don’t ring, I’ll get it.’

  After Reg had left the room, Charles said to Henry, ‘I’m sorry. But you mustn’t take any notice; he’s…he’s in a bad way. Apart from what has hit us he must be having a rough time out there.’

  ‘They’re all having a rough time out there, Charles, and those who feel it the most are those who think…think too much. I hope Reg gets wounded soon, I do, and can come home.’

  ‘What!’ Charles’ face was screwed up. ‘What are you saying, you hope he gets wounded? Why don’t you say you hope he gets killed?’

  ‘I don’t want him killed, I want him wounded, just say in the leg or the arm, and out of it, because if not he’ll break and that will be worse for him than death. I’ve seen it happen, time and again. Nessy could tell you a thing or two about such cases. She’s good at handling men of all kinds; she does it all with that tongue of hers.’

  ‘Odd that she didn’t want to come over,’ Charles mused.

  ‘Not odd at all; she stays where she’s most needed. She can do nothing for the dead, the living are her concern. You see’—Henry smiled wanly—‘she’s being a mother for the first time in her life. And that brings me to Elaine. Another baby, and born on the day they died…In death there is life. How true. But God forgive me, I could wish the perpetrator of that new life would get himself across the water and stay for a time.’

  Agnes smiled warmly at her new brother-in-law: the priest, the gentleman, but the good earthy common man under the skin. In a way, he was akin to Charles, and not only in name.

  Seven

  Until now there had been two wars raging within him: one being fought in his mind, the other amid blood and mud. Compared with the trenches he was used to, where a bath was something one dreamed of and where a shave was a luxury, these new ones were palaces. Here, everything was changed: the trenches were dry and the size of a dugout was amazing. The one he shared with two brother officers he could even term a private apartment. Not only was there hot water to shave with, but hot meals to eat, and all below ground on this vast plain.

  There was to be a battle, but what did it matter? He was used to battles and the dead that helped to fill up bomb craters and the not-so-near dead who whimpered like Elaine’s children did. But here in this palace of trenches you could forget all about that. You could even forget that, on the same flat plain a few hundred yards away, the Germans had an even better system of trenches, so he understood. Ridley, who had recently been transferred, said that some of the officers’ quarters in the German trenches were like hotel rooms, because they had real furniture in them. Of course Ridley was young, as were all the batches coming in to fill up the empty spaces. All educated young men ready for the solicitor’s office or the doctor’s surgery or the Civil Service. They all had their plans for after the war. When he heard them talk at times he wanted to laugh, but he had to stop himself, because once he started to laugh it would become hysterical, as if he were watching a turn at the Theatre Royal in Newcastle or a farce in London or the antics of some undressed plump ladies on a stage in Paris, and once he started to laugh that would be that.

  Everything was set for the first of July, he understood. As always they were going to wipe the floor with that lot over there; but first, of course, they would have to take their much-vaunted line of trenches, that very intricate line of trenches. But old generals had it all worked out for the young officers and the hordes of men.

  Funny about that saying, officers and men. It was as if the officers weren’t men. Well, of course, they weren’t men, were they? They were young gods all come down from Olympus; they were birds without wings; they were indestructible warriors, infallible. Well, the generals had said so, hadn’t they? They couldn’t fail because not only would they be covered by those wooden birds in the air that had wings, but also they were being supported by the iron elephants called tanks. For the first time the tanks were being put into action. Then there was the barrage that was going to knock hell out of those equally young Germans in their indestructible trenches. And then when they were dazed or dead with the barrage, the straight lines of British innocent youth, led by young gods, would fall on them and stick bayonets into them, thus making way for the cavalry, hundreds, even thousands of horses and their riders, all waiting to finish off those Germans. It must happen like this; the generals had designed it. Hadn’t they been working hard in their comfortable billets, sitting round a table, some of them being much too old to stand for long? And after their plans had been sent out into action and the Germans were vanquished forever they would go home and be decorated by the King.

  ‘What did you say?’ Reg looked towards Lieutenant Pollet Smythe, known affectionately as Polly Smith or sometimes as Pretty Polly. And Lieutenant Smythe said, ‘What were you thinking? Your face was a study. It was as if you were pulling someone over the coals.’

  ‘My face was a study, was it? Well, I’ll tell you what I was thinking, Polly. I was planning my life after the war. You know what I’m going to do? I’m seeing myself buying a nice little thirty-foot boat, and sailing away to one of those islands, you know, practically uninhabited. Mine must have a few people there, say a chief with six daughters. No, no; I’ll plump for two and they’ve never seen a man for months, perhaps a year, and they are very kind to me, so very kind that I decide I couldn’t possibly leave them. So I stay there for the rest of my life.’

  ‘You’re an idiot, and you weren’t thinking about that at all, because your face would have frightened the dusky maidens away. Seriously, Reg, do you think that the German fortifications over there are all that they say?’

  ‘Well, we won’t know until we get over there, will we? But there’s one thing certain, they won’t shrink or disappear by worrying about them. So get yourself to sleep and let me read.’

  ‘You weren’t reading, you were staring ahead. I told you. And anyway you’ve read those letters until they are ready to crumble. She must be an interesting piece. Are you engaged on the quiet?’

  ‘Yes, I am engaged, commissioned in fact by the highest military power to take you out there so that your head will just clear the parapet and let our friends do the rest. So will you shut up and go to sleep if you don’t want me to carry out that order?’

  ‘You would, too, wouldn’t you? You would always carry out an order.’

  Reg didn’t answer this, but dropped his head back and lay staring at the outlet, while seeing beyond it. Talking about letters: that’s what he should do, write letters, three letters, one to Charles, one to Henry, and one to Agnes. He’d received a number from them of late, but had never answered, because what could he say? To Henry he could only say, ‘What is it like in your sector?’ And follow on with polite nothings, whereas what he really wanted to say was, ‘How in the name of God can you believe in Him? How can any sane person imagine there is a being, or a benevolent power above, looking down day after day on the mass slaughter of those supposed to be created in His image and likeness? You’re not stupid, Henry. Can’t you see there’s nothing there and we are an uncontrolled maniacal mob directed by old men with a thirst for blood? To them we are tin soldiers, still on the nursery floor. Oh yes, we are.’

  And then there was Charles, dear Charles, to whom he should write and say, ‘Turning all those flower beds into a vegetable garden is a most sensible thing to do. Go ahead, for there’s bound to come a time when things will run short. And yes, as there are no horses to bother about now, put hens, ducks, and what you like in the bottom field. What about a cow? By the time I come back you’ll have a farm ready for me to take over. But don’t go at it ram stam. Agnes tells me you haven’t been too good lately. Do what you’re told and don’t worry her. I’m glad to know the staff are being helpful and that McCann has taken her under his wing. I had to laugh about Agnes refusing, but tactfully, to be maide
d by Mrs Mitcham.’

  That’s what he would have said to Charles while all the time his mind would be yelling, ‘You’re a lucky swine, TB included. There you are, master to all intents and purposes of the house that I love…and more than that, and when I return I doubt if you’ll want to move and go back to the rooms above the shop; you were brought up in a big house with a staff of servants running at your heels. You made a break, but it wasn’t for very long, was it?’

  And then, should he write to Agnes, and what would he say to her? ‘I’m so glad everything is running smoothly, dear, and the staff are co-operating. But then, I would expect them to; who would dream of opposing you in anything? And look after that man of yours. Get him up to the cottage as often as you can.’ And he would end on a jocular note: ‘What am I talking about. Push him up there and let him fend for himself for a while. It’ll do him good. My warm regards, dear.’

  My warm regards, dear, not, my love, my dearest Agnes. And you are my love. You could have been my love. You recognised that too, didn’t you? You say you love Charles, but it is nothing compared to how you would have loved me, how I would have made you love me. Oh yes, Charles loves you and strangely I love Charles, but at the same time I wish he never existed. I have wished that he wasn’t my brother and then I could have come into the open and, without compunction, taken you away from whoever you imagined you loved.

  Then his mind would ask the question: Why should Charles and I have both fallen for you? What is there about you that drew us to you? Charles felt it when he first saw you, so did I, on that day outside the Cathedral when the sun was on your face and lit you up. And later, when you chipped me about cleaning my buttons. I knew then for a certainty that you were for me. Why? Don’t ask me, I can’t explain, except perhaps that not one of my acquaintances would have had the sympathy for my batman which apparently you had, and for all so-called menials. I tried to tell myself later it was because you were new, strange, frank. Oh, yes, you were frank, with a touch of tactlessness, I told myself. But it made no difference. Yet, at this moment I’m asking myself, what it is about you that has drawn us brothers to you? Perhaps you are one of these strange creatures who attract all men but repulse all women. And that could be true because you repulsed my mother. She died because of you, no matter how one covers that up. If it hadn’t been for you she would have been alive today. Do you ever think about that, Agnes Conway-cum-Farrier?

  ‘Captain.’ His eyelids sprang back wide as he looked up at his batman. ‘Yes? Yes?’ he said.

  ‘The Colonel would like a word with you, sir.’

  ‘Very well.’

  Pollet Smythe was sitting up now, saying, ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘He hasn’t sent for me.’

  ‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he? You’re still in kindergarten.’

  ‘Oh, don’t!’

  ‘Sorry. But it’s likely only to tell me I’m due for a rest.’

  ‘But you said you’d been behind the lines twice.’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve been working very hard, you know…thinking. I do a lot of thinking. He’s likely taken that into consideration.’

  ‘Well, do you think it’s going to start?’

  ‘I’ll let you know as soon as I get back.’

  This conversation had been going on in the presence of Private James McConnor, who now pulled the back of his Captain’s coat down, flicked an imaginary speck from his shoulder, then said, ‘He’s in number four, sir.’

  Then slipping round to inspect the front of him, he said, ‘Your bottom button, Captain,’ and, reaching out, he flicked the bottom button of Reg’s tunic into place, which brought a laugh from him as he said, ‘Thanks, Mac. If it wasn’t for you I’d be a source of entertainment along the line: the only half-dressed Durham Light Infantry’s captain. Anyway, now you’ve got me ready for the road, rock him to sleep.’ He jerked his head towards Lieutenant Pollet Smythe; then bending his head slightly, he went out of the dugout, walked along the dry and level duckboards, acknowledging a sentry salute here and there, turned a corner and went into the office known as number four.

  For a week there was a continuous heavy bombardment, until at dawn on July 1st, 1916, on a bright morning, nineteen divisions at one-hundred-yard intervals walked forward from their trenches. Two Durham battalions were involved in the first day of fighting, and by the end of the day the countless dead could think no more, while those living had no idea that this day was only the beginning of an enormous bloodbath that would go on for weeks ahead, even through September, October and November. But on that first day the vaunted tanks became useless and a great mass of cavalry at the ready did not sweep over that great plain and put paid to the German might. All the months of planning seemed to have missed the mark. The only thing that happened that had been expected was the number dead. And among the dead on that first day were Reg’s three associates, Lieutenants Pollet Smythe, Alec Ridley, and John Braithwaite, and also Mac, Private James McConnor.

  Eight

  ‘She’s had no more news?’

  ‘No; well, you wouldn’t expect any, would you, when it was reported that the boat went down, presumably with all hands. Damn the Germans! Eeh, she’s been in a state! But you know, it’s funny, nearly every day since she got the news a fortnight ago she’s been round to his mother’s, taking the bairn with her. Might only be for half an hour or after the shops close. You know, I think she gets more comfort from that woman than she does from me, although I try my best and I’ve done all I can.’

  ‘Of course you have, dear. Now don’t worry yourself about that because she’s his mother and likely she needs comfort too, because except for one of the boys, they’ve all joined up, haven’t they? And that’s two she’s lost.’

  Alice looked across the kitchen table at Agnes and quietly she said, ‘I do miss you, lass. The place isn’t the same without you.’

  ‘It works both ways, Mother; I miss being here too.’

  ‘You don’t really.’

  ‘Oh, I do.’ Agnes’ voice was emphatic.

  ‘But I thought everything was…’

  ‘Oh yes, everything’s fine there. The staff couldn’t be more helpful.’ She smiled now, a quizzical smile. ‘Of course, as I said, the first weeks were a bit rough: at least, they were until I called in Mrs Mitcham and Mr McCann and told them it wasn’t my intention to make changes, that I was new to the position and I would need their help and co-operation. But I inferred, as I told you, that there was another side to it and should they decide to be awkward, then that would work both ways. I also impressed upon them that I’d been used to management since I had left school at eighteen. I pressed that lie too. It was amazing the change that little talk made. Yet, at the same time, it isn’t home, it isn’t here, and it isn’t the cottage. I just feel I’m a caretaker till Reg comes back. And when he does, he’ll definitely marry, and then I’ll be free again. We’ll both be free. Yet Charles acts as if he’s settled there for life. He talks at times as if he is, and that troubles me.’

  ‘Well, it was his home, lass.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose that’s it; and he’s so taken up with the miniature farm we have now. He’s called the cow Pansy and the two goats are Basil and Muriel.’

  ‘Basil and Muriel for goats!’ Alice started to laugh; then putting her hand over her mouth she said, ‘Eeh! I didn’t think I’d laugh again. You know, although I’d never admit it, I’ve got to like that bloke Robbie. I hated his guts at first, couldn’t stand him, and yet these last few days I’ve cried almost as much about him as Jessie has. You know, I couldn’t understand how she could have a fellow like that, not at first, but as time went on I saw the reason: there was something about him, an honesty and a caring, all under that rough, brash exterior.’

  ‘Yes.’ Agnes nodded, then added, ‘And he altered our lives, didn’t he? By the way, I’ve never asked how things are going downstairs.’

  ‘Oh, you wouldn’t believe it, people are
spending money as if it was confetti. They’re making big wages now, things are changing. I never thought I’d live to see the change that has taken place these last two years, at least where spending is concerned. People I knew hadn’t a penny seem to be rolling in it now. I know, of course, how some of them are making it. There’s that Greenside woman that lives over at the back, you know, you hear some tales about her. Her man’s in one of the battleships and she’s doing her war work every night, overtime too, if all tales are true.’

  ‘Oh, Mother!’ Agnes rose from the table, saying, ‘Well, I’d better be off.’

  ‘You don’t seem to have been here five minutes, lass.’

  Agnes looked at the clock. ‘Two hours and a quarter.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I know, but time flies when you’re back home.’

  ‘Look, come out on Sunday. Bring Jessie and the baby, the staff’ll make such a fuss of her.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll see, lass. I’ll…I’ll feel out of place.’

  ‘You won’t feel out of place. You would never feel out of place in any company.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see. To tell you the truth, Sundays I just want to put me feet up; yet, not so far back, I can see the time when I’d have jumped at the chance to mix with the nobs.’

  ‘There’s no nobs there now, Mother.’

  ‘There’s that staff and I couldn’t stand anybody looking down their nose at me.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. They wouldn’t, or they couldn’t look down their noses at you. Good gracious! Has that stopped you from coming over?’

  ‘No, no. Anyway, we’ll see. Get yourself away, because if you don’t that fellow’ll be at the door looking for you. He never lets you out of his sight, from what I can make out. Anyway, how’s his chest? I forgot to ask.’

  ‘Well, there are times when it seems perfectly all right; then if he stays out in the rain or the damp, he gets his cough back. Last week it was pretty bad; but I couldn’t get him to stay in bed. Anyway, I must be off.’ She went to her mother and put her arms about her, and they held each other for a moment. Then Alice, smiling, said, ‘If you had been going to the cottage I’d have filled the basket for you, wouldn’t I? But I’d like to see the look on your cook’s face if you returned there with a basket full of my stuff.’