‘Protection of the laws of war?’ Kenny burst out passionately. ‘What about all our poor devils in their concentration camps? Did they have protection?’
Caleb whispered something gently to his friend and Kenny subsided back in his seat, visibly shaking with the force of his feelings.
‘It is not surprising,’ went on Churchill, ‘that on such long fronts and in the existing disorder of the enemy, the orders of the German High Command should not, in every case, be obeyed immediately. This does not, in our opinion, with the best military advice at our disposal, constitute any reason for withholding from the nation the facts communicated to us by General Eisenhower of the unconditional surrender already signed at Rheims, nor should it prevent us from celebrating today and tomorrow, Wednesday, as Victory in Europe days. Today, perhaps, we shall think mostly of ourselves. Tomorrow we shall pay a particular tribute to our Russian comrades, whose prowess in the field has been one of the grand contributions to the general victory.’
He paused. ‘The German war is therefore at an end.’
The occupants of the kitchen heard the cheers and shouts and clapping from outside the house following the last sentence, but inside, apart from Eliza’s quiet sobs, the silence continued. Each of them was aware of the men from this particular family still far away on foreign soil and that, in Eliza and Clara’s cases, they hadn’t heard from their husbands in weeks.
After a moment or two Churchill’s voice came again: ‘After years of intense preparation, Germany hurled herself on Poland at the beginning of September, 1939, and, in pursuance of our guarantee to Poland and in agreement with the French Republic, Great Britain, the British Empire and Commonwealth of Nations declared war upon this foul aggression. After gallant France had been struck down, we from this island and from our United Empire maintained the struggle single-handed for a whole year until we were joined by the military might of the Soviet Union, and later by the overwhelming power and resources of the United States of America. Finally, almost the whole world was combined against the evildoers, who are now prostrate before us. Our gratitude to all our splendid Allies goes forth from all our hearts in this island and throughout the British Empire.’
‘Even if they did leave it a bit late,’ the irrepressible Kenny put in caustically, earning a ‘Shush!’ from Priscilla.
‘We may allow ourselves a brief period of rejoicing, but let us not forget for a moment the toils and efforts that lie ahead. Japan, with all her treachery and greed, remains unsubdued. The injustice she has inflicted upon Great Britain, the United States and other countries, and her detestable cruelties, call for justice and retribution. We must now devote all our strength and resources to the completion of our task, both at home and abroad.’
Again a brief pause, then: ‘Advance, Britannia! Long live the cause of freedom! God save the King!’
They were all crying now, and as the children bounded in from the yard shouting, ‘The war really is over! It’s over!’, everyone began hugging and laughing amid their tears.
Suddenly Caleb was in front of her, and Esther looked up into his eyes for a split second, before he took her into his arms for the first time in their acquaintance. The hug was brief, from one friend to another, but Esther was vitally aware of the bigness of him, the breadth of his shoulders and the controlled strength in the arms holding her close, as he murmured above her head, ‘The final end of the end, Esther. Let’s hope the world has learned there’s nothing more precious than peace.’
Prudence’s little girl came to stand in front of them and tugged at Caleb’s trousers. ‘Uncle Caleb, what does it mean: the war has ended?’ she asked anxiously.
As they parted, Caleb bent down and lifted her up, smiling as he said, ‘It means you will see lights at night in the streets, and windows lit up, hinny. And no more sirens – never again.’
‘But Arnie and Francis say our da is never coming home again. Is that true?’
She was five years old in three months’ time and had never seen her father, being born two months after he had died. And her brothers barely remembered him. With a lump in his throat, Caleb said huskily, ‘He would have liked to have come home, Emily, because he loved you and your brothers and your mam very much. That’s why he went to fight the baddies, to try and protect you all. But Arnie and Francis are right; he’s not coming home because he’s in heaven now, where he still continues to protect you and them, and your mam. But your mam misses him very much. Will you remember that and be extra-good for her?’
Emily nodded. ‘It’s them that’s naughty anyway, Uncle Caleb. Arnie and Francis. But I’ll tell them that Mam’s sad and that they’ve got to behave themselves.’
‘Aye, lass. You do that.’
As they watched her disappear, full of self-importance, to find her brothers, Esther said softly, ‘You’re very good with children, aren’t you?’ For such a big man, Caleb was incredibly gentle.
‘I like them,’ he said simply.
He would make a wonderful father. Where the thought came from she didn’t know, but it threw her, and suddenly she was flustered and flushed, covering her confusion by saying, ‘Where’s Joy toddled off to?’
Caleb smiled, his eyes crinkling. ‘There, with my mam again.’ He nodded across the room, and sure enough Joy was sitting on Eliza’s lap, snuggled close to her.
This was all too much. Feeling as though she was drowning and not knowing why, Esther murmured faintly, ‘I need some fresh air – I’m sorry.’
She must have looked as strange as she felt, because Caleb said swiftly, ‘Come on, come with me,’ which was actually the last thing she wanted. Nevertheless she allowed him to take her arm and lead her through the throng and out into the back yard, where a faint drizzle of rain was misting the air.
Esther took refuge in banalities as she said, ‘Oh dear, I hope the rain doesn’t spoil things.’ She had never been more conscious of Caleb as a man, and it was disturbing.
‘You must be joking,’ he said softly, worried about the pallor that had drained her face of all colour in the last few moments. ‘This is the north, and nothing will be allowed to get in the way of this street party. I took a look in the street a while ago, and the tables reach from one side of the road to the other.’ Which wasn’t difficult in the narrow terraces. ‘Apart from the hillocks of bread and butter, and the bowls of multicoloured jelly, there’s almond whirls and fairy cakes and a host of other indigestibles, along with bottles of lemonade and cream soda and raspberry fizz. And, of course, the barrels of beer placed at strategic intervals along the street.’
He was aware that he was babbling somewhat, but somehow the atmosphere was charged.
‘Makes a change for the street parties to get an airing for something other than an event empurpled by royalty, don’t you think?’ He liked that: ‘empurpled by royalty’. He’d read it in a newspaper article the day before. ‘We had three in three years, ten years ago, what with the Silver Jubilee of King George V and Queen Mary, then the accession of Edward VIII when poor old George turned up his toes, and then after the abdication the present King stepping up to take over the family business.’ He grinned at her, pretending not to notice her strained face. ‘All the old wives round here were in their element. There’s nothing they like more than a good old-fashioned knees-up.’
His easy conversation had calmed the panic that had suddenly hit her out of the blue, and Esther was able to smile back. ‘I’ve never been to a street party,’ she said a little wistfully.
‘No? Then you will enjoy this one, I can guarantee it. And of course the bairns eat too much and have bellyache.’ His voice dropping, he said softly, ‘I heard what you said to Prudence, by the way, and I appreciate it. Ida doesn’t mean to be insensitive, but she invariably is; and Pru is still struggling with everything.’
She’d had no idea he’d been able to hear them, and found herself trying to recall what she had said when the conversation had turned to Caleb.
As though he’d read her thoughts, he contin
ued, ‘I was going to mention the job next time I wrote, by the way.’
‘I’m very pleased for you,’ she said a little primly.
‘Thanks.’ He suppressed a smile. He had the notion that she had been a little put out to learn about the job second-hand from Prudence. ‘It’s all happened in the last week.’
‘Yes, your sister said.’
‘Of course, as an apprentice, I won’t be earning much for a while, but once that’s finished I’ll see about moving out and getting my own place.’ He kept his voice casual, as though he hadn’t been thinking about how to let her know that he didn’t intend to stay with his parents long-term.
‘Won’t your mother miss you?’
‘Not once Da’s home. Besides, there’s always one or the other of my sisters and their brood round here. Anyway, that’s in the future.’ As voices from inside the house called his name, he said, ‘I reckon the party’s about to begin. Come on.’
And when he took her hand and led her back into the house, she didn’t pull it from his.
The afternoon sped by in a melee of children running hither and thither and playing games; food and more food; endless toasts drunk to victory; and laughter. Much laughter – bred of overwhelming relief that, after all the rumours that the war was about to end, it had actually happened. One enterprising matron had organized a Punch-and-Judy show for the children later in the afternoon, once everyone had eaten their fill. This had proved fortuitous as, true to Prudence’s prediction, a number of the little ones had eaten too much and were feeling nauseous and needed a break from the mayhem.
The street parties all over the country were due to end with fireworks and bonfires, with effigies of Hitler replacing the traditional Guy Fawkes. This would occur once King George VI had given his address on the wireless at nine o’clock. Esther, along with most of the other women, had been busy taking care of the children during the afternoon; and then, once everyone had eaten their fill, some of the tables and trestles were moved to make more room for games after the Punch-and-Judy show. It was only then that she had another word with Caleb. He joined her as she stood drinking a cup of tea, watching Joy sitting cross-legged in the midst of his sisters’ children, all of them entranced at the sight of Mr Punch knocking six bells out of the long-suffering Judy.
She smiled at him. ‘She’s had a lovely time. It’s a shame she’s too young to remember it for long.’
‘There’ll be other good times.’
Esther’s smile faded. She hadn’t missed some of the glances that had been sent her way and Joy’s. On the farm, she didn’t even think about the colour of her daughter’s skin, but here, among the sea of white faces, Joy stuck out like a sore thumb. She didn’t want life to be difficult for her beloved child, but neither did she want to hide Joy away from the world. She wouldn’t be doing her daughter any favours in the long run. Hateful though it was, Joy was going to have to learn how to cope with the inevitable prejudice that would come her way.
Now, as Caleb murmured, ‘Have you thought about what I said in my letter – about you coming to live in these parts?’ she realized that at some point during the day she had come to a decision, without even knowing it.
She nodded. ‘I’d like to, it’s just the practicalities that need to be worked through. I’d have to find work and somewhere to live; perhaps even childcare for Joy. Of course it wouldn’t happen for some months yet. The war might be over, but the Land Army will carry on doing their bit for some time.’
Caleb managed to keep the elation out of his voice as he said quietly, ‘Childcare? Wouldn’t Rose look after Joy, if you got a job?’
‘She would, but . . . ’ She turned to look at him. ‘She’s so happy on the farm, Caleb. And she and Mrs Holden have become bosom friends. It doesn’t seem fair to drag her away from that, and then expect her to stay at home all day by herself with just a little toddler for company. She would do it, of course she would do it, but she’d be lonely.’
‘She’d have Joy in the day, and you in the evening.’
‘I know, but on the farm she’s busy and fulfilled.’
‘I can’t see Rose staying put, if you and Joy left.’
Esther shrugged. ‘We’ll see. I could pay her a visit now and again at the weekends perhaps, or she could come and stay for a bit every so often. Anyway, it won’t happen for a while. Not until Farmer Holden gets some of his men back – the ones who survived the war, that is. And he’s full of doom and gloom about the future, as it is. He keeps going on about the government’s ‘great betrayal’ of 1921, when the state abandoned its policy of support for the farmers, and he’s worried they’ll do it again. If he’s said it once, he’s said a hundred times that his labourers’ pay before the war was forty-eight shillings a week and now the national minimum is seventy shillings. And it’s not as if he and Mrs Holden live in the lap of luxury, to be fair, for the farmhouse is basic, to say the least.’
The more Esther said, the less reassured Caleb was that she would actually leave the farm, but he knew he couldn’t articulate this. He didn’t want to say or do anything to frighten her off. Feeling he was treading on eggshells, he cleared his throat. ‘Things will work out,’ he said gruffly. ‘And if you did decide to live round here without Rose, I dare say Mam would lend a hand with Joy. She loves little ’uns, as you’ve probably gathered.’ What his mother would actually say if this proposition was put to her, he didn’t know; he’d cross that bridge if he came to it.
Again Esther said, ‘We’ll see,’ but in a tone that signified the conversation was at an end. And with that Caleb had to be content.
All the children in the district had been building an enormous bonfire on a bombed site just beyond the end of Caleb’s street, and had given the affair due publicity, making their own posters and fixing them to various street lamps. Everyone had been instructed to bring friends along, and the older boys had made their own fireworks and flares. Even the adults had participated in the making of Hitler. One old lady had given a jacket, another a pair of trousers, and so on, until Hitler’s rig was assured. A retired dressmaker who lived at the corner of the street, and who had umpteen excited grandchildren, had even given the dressing-up a professional touch, altering the garments until they fitted the effigy to perfection. The local bobby had made the face and had helped the lads fit up some macabre gallows, which the chief fire-watcher and warden had erected, before stringing up Hitler’s body.
Union Jacks and bunting were hung from wooden posts in front of the bombed site, and the proceedings had been billed to start at dusk, at ten o’clock. It was clear the bonfire was the highlight of the day for the children. They had several planks supported by bricks, which were intended as seats for the elderly or infirm; and the dressmaker had promised that two strong men could carry out her piano just before the show was due to begin, and she would play for everyone.
Early that morning, when they had set off from Yorkshire, Esther had imagined they would leave Sunderland at the end of the afternoon, if not before. Now she realized that Priscilla and Kenny had no intention of starting for home until they had wrung every last moment of enjoyment out of the day. And she couldn’t blame them. A victory at the end of the bloodiest war in history was worth celebrating, after all.
At ten to nine all the members of Caleb’s family once again crowded into his mother’s kitchen, a hush falling across them as nine o’clock chimed. It was slightly eerie to think that the same reverent silence was abroad across Britain, and much of the Empire.
The somewhat uncertain voice of the King crackled at precisely nine o’clock: ‘Today we give thanks to Almighty God for a great deliverance. Speaking from our Empire’s oldest capital city, war-battered but never for one moment daunted or dismayed, speaking from London, I ask you to join with me in that act of thanksgiving. Germany, the enemy who drove all Europe into war, has been finally overcome. In the Far East we have yet to deal with the Japanese, a determined and cruel foe. To this we shall turn with the utmost resol
ve and with all our resources.’
Here Eliza gave a hiccup of a sob. She was terrified that her Stanley would be sent to fight the Japanese.
‘But at this hour,’ the very human voice continued, ‘when the dreadful shadow of war has passed from our hearts and homes in these islands, we may at last make one pause for thanksgiving . . . ’
Esther glanced around the assembled faces. Was Monty alive? He was her husband – the father of her daughter – and yet she didn’t know. It said it all, somehow.
‘Let us think what it was that has upheld us through nearly six years of suffering and peril. The knowledge that everything was at stake: our freedom, our independence, our very existence as a people; but the knowledge also that in defending ourselves we were defending the liberties of the whole world; that our cause was the cause not of this nation only, not of this Empire and Commonwealth only, but of every land where freedom is cherished, and law and liberty go hand in hand.’
The King’s words resonated in Esther’s heart like a physical blow. Cruelty and injustice: that was what the King was talking about. But it wasn’t just Hitler and Goering and Mussolini who were guilty of that crime; it was every man, woman or child who judged another on their position in society, the name of their ancestors, the colour of their skin, their religion or their culture. She had never seen it so clearly before.
‘In the darkest hours we knew that the enslaved and isolated peoples of Europe looked to us; their hopes were our hopes; their confidence confirmed our faith. We knew that, if we failed, the last remaining barrier against a worldwide tyranny would have fallen in ruins. But we did not fail. We kept faith with ourselves and with one another; we kept faith and unity with our great allies. That faith, that unity have carried us through to victory.’
Was Monty listening to this somewhere? And if so, would he see the irony of the King’s words? Esther thought bitterly. Monty had fought on the side of the true and righteous, according to what she was hearing, and yet he had thrown away what they’d had together, because her father was a different colour to himself. Hitler, in his madness, had waged war even in his own country against the disabled, the Gypsies, the Jews and those Germans with a different-coloured skin. Monty had seen that was wrong and had been prepared to take up arms against it, and yet towards his own wife and child he’d behaved no better than Hitler.
The Colours of Love Page 20