by Shirley Roe
In London, a group of twelve men sat around a large round table. One of the men was missing an arm and another a leg. It was a strange mix of miners, farmers, sailors and businessmen, rich and poor, all equalized by war. The men conversed like long lost brothers. It was the first joy and laughter many of them had felt in months, but they also discussed some of the atrocities of war. “I can't seem to forget Loos, it seems like September 25th, 1915 was only yesterday.” Seadog, picked up his cigar and took a long drag.
“Four bloody days, more than 200,000 shells fired and it was called off in failure on the 28th. Six divisions, that bastard Haig sent in. We were exhausted.”
“Not to mention the shell shortage.” The man with one leg shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable.
“It was the bloody gas that killed them. Our own bloody chlorine gas, blew right back in our faces. Seven men in our trench alone died from the gas. It was a travesty; my best friend died in that battle.”
“Haig sent the cavalry in between Loos and La Bassee Canal hoping to attack the Gerry's second line, but we lost more men than they did. My brother-in-law lost his leg that day, poor bugger with two kids and a wife waiting at home.” The man they called Sandhog, lifted his pint and took a long drink of ale. All of them felt the same way; war had been a horrible nightmare that they would never forget.
“Loos was only one of the battles. Let's talk of more pleasant things, shall we chaps?”
Gordon spoke with the man next to him. “How are things at home, Sandhog?” The men referred to each other by the nicknames from the trenches. Gordon was known as Scotty.
“Not good, Scotty. We missed you at the last reunion, therapeutic these get-togethers.” Gordon nodded; he was beginning to think the same thing. His friend continued, “I just don't seem to be able to find my way back to the world I left. My wife is being very patient, but some days I just want to be alone.” The red haired man shook his head. He lifted the pint of ale to his lips. “I'm filled with guilt and I know I was just following orders. No one understands how it feels to look into a man's eyes and kill him, enemy or not.” Tim drank half of his ale, setting the glass on the table, “And you?”
“About the same, Tim. It is difficult to adjust. The world seems different now. What we saw in those trenches changed us.” The camaraderie these men shared was unknown to those that did not experience war. They fought together, watched their buddies die together and now they were all experiencing the same feelings of alienation. Some had been away for more than five years.
The men spent the rest of the week together. They toured the bombed out areas of the city, trying to understand what their families had experienced back home during the bombings. They drank in the pubs, went to the horse races and most important, they talked about what they had experienced. Only together could they be honest about what they did and what they saw. The reunion was great therapy for all of them and it was decided they would continue the reunions. Once every six months they would get together and perform their own type of therapy. All of them knew it was necessary, and all went home a little lighter.
Amy noticed that Gordon seemed happier when he returned. She knew the reunion was responsible. When Gordon told her of their plans to reunite every six months she realized that this would be a long healing process. She hugged her husband and told him how happy she was that the men would stay in contact with each other. Afterwards, she went to her room and prayed to God that her husband would soon be back to normal. She also prayed for the strength to support him for as long as it would take.
Amy and Jenny continued to visit the veterans in the hospitals and work at the Red Cross, and the world tried to get back to normal. Rose started private school, Harry was given a promotion and Jenny enjoyed her time with her family, which included Abigail, Zachariah and Walter.
A year later, Gordon returned from his third reunion to find a letter from Amy. The letter explained that she could not live like this any longer and was going to France for a few months to decide what she wanted. He sat in his chair allowing the tears to fall freely. He knew he was not the husband Amy wanted or needed. Gordon understood, but he was heartbroken. He called the maid and asked where his son was. For a moment he held his breath. Had she taken Jake?
The next morning Gordon went to see Jenny and Harry.
“She just needs time, Gordon. The past eighteen-months, have been very hard on Amy.” Jenny did her best to reassure Gordon, but she could see he doubted Amy would come back to him. Even Jenny did not know what Amy would decide. Only Harry knew that Amy had been seeing one of the doctors at the Edinburgh Infirmary, and that they went to France together. He kept silent.
“The only good thing that has come out of this, is that she left Jake with me. I love my son, Jenny and I couldn't bear to lose both of them.” Tears appeared in Gordon's eyes. He quickly wiped them away. Harry and Jenny felt very sorry for him.
“Bring Jake over tonight to play with Rose. She is home for a few days and would love to see him. You can both stay for dinner.” Jenny was trying to ease Gordon's pain, but she knew it would be a very long time before he got over it.
The next week, Gordon and Jake left Edinburgh for Aviemore. Gordon felt comfortable in his ancestral home and it was a good place for him and Jake to be together and experience nature. The house stood on twenty acres surrounded by the Cairngorm Mountains. The large McDonald home was built of stone and over the years it had mellowed to a soft shade of gray. The deep bay windows at ground level rose from floor to ceiling, to allow the light to fill the rooms. The steeply sloped roof had two-dozen tall chimneys, a large glass conservatory stood at the south end of the building. Gordon decided to stay in Aviemore until he could come to grips with Amy's leaving.
Another soldier returned home from that reunion. He too returned to heartbreak. Tim McKitterek sat in his father-in-law's hospital room. Arthur was dying of heart failure. Tim was distraught beyond words. Arthur was like his own father and he didn't know what he would do without him. Arthur had helped Elizabeth and Tim rebuild their marriage and their lives after the war. The shop was now Drury and McKitterek Mercantile and had grown to two shops. Tim would miss Arthur terribly both in his personal and professional life.
“How is he, Tim?” Elizabeth crept silently into the room, her eyes, shadowed by black circles, her cheeks were stained with tears. Tim reached for her hand and, Elizabeth looked deep into his eyes. He could see her pain. “Mother has gone to lie down, I am worried about her. This could kill her. She and Da have been together since they were children.”
“Don't get ahead of yourself, Elizabeth. Let's worry about one parent at a time, please. The nurse will be in shortly to check on him. I think we should go and get something to eat.” Tim talked her into leaving the room for just a short while. He took her hand and guided her from the room.
Tim and Elizabeth passed Megan and Sammy in the hallway. Sammy walked with a crutch, having lost the lower part of his left leg in the war. “How is he?”
“Not good. We are going for something to eat. Would you like to join us?” The four of them walked slowly and sadly towards the elevator.
The nurse arrived in Arthur's room, followed by Elizabeth's mother. Judith Drury returned to sit with her husband. She took his wrinkled hand and rested her head on his chest. “I love you, Arthur, I will always love you.” He moved his arm to hold her. An hour later, Arthur Drury passed away in his wife's arms.
Bertha McKitterek arrived the following week, to offer her support to Elizabeth and Tim at the funeral. She stood beside Judith Drury thinking that one day soon they would both be lying in a deep grave. Her health had been failing over the past few months, but she was still able to travel to Watsworth from London. She wanted to see her grandchildren and her own children very much before anything happened to her.
After the service, the family held a small luncheon at Tim and Elizabeth's home. Both were exhausted and really just wanted to be left alone to grieve. Bertha helped El
izabeth tidy up the house after the mourners left, and then she put her arms around her daughter-in-law, who started to sob uncontrollably. “There, there pet. I know it is hard losing your father, but you will feel better as time passes. Don't cry.”
“Oh, Mother McKitterek, if you only knew why I was crying. If you only knew.”
“Well then dear, you had better sit down and tell me. Tim has gone to take your mother home and he has taken the children with him. So while we are alone, I think you had better tell me what's the matter?” She lowered her large posterior into the kitchen chair slowly. “These old bones are not what they used to be.” Elizabeth took the chair opposite her.
“I don't know if I should tell you without Tim being here. Of course, it is because of him that I am upset. Oh dear, I don't know if I should say anything at all.” She sobbed harder than ever.
“Yes you should. Now, what on earth is wrong?” Bertha was growing very concerned.
“Several weeks back, some policemen arrived at the door.”
“Police? Dear Lord, Tim has not committed a crime has he? I know he has not been himself since the war, but he is an honest man.” Now Bertha was growing apprehensive.
Elizabeth patted her hand reassuringly. “No, nothing like that. I am afraid they found a body out near your old cottage.”
“A body. Whose body? What are you talking about Elizabeth? I am getting very confused.” Bertha pulled a linen handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to Elizabeth.
“I am sorry to tell you this, but it was Mr. McKitterek, your husband.” Bertha turned white as a ghost. Her breathing sped up and Elizabeth thought she was going to faint. “Mother McKitterek, are you all right? Here drink this tea. No wait, I will get you a sherry.” She rushed from the kitchen filled with guilt. Dear Lord, I shouldn’t have said anything. Tim will be very angry. She returned moments later with a glass of sherry.
“Drink this. It will make you feel better.” Bertha drank the glass of sherry in one gulp. She was shaking.
“Eddie, they found Eddie's body? But how, he ran off. I don't understand.”
“I know it is a shock. Tim was very upset, especially when the police as much as accused him of having something to do with it. That is when he said something so hurtful, I can hardly repeat it.” Elizabeth began to wring her hands together. Bertha was still recovering from the shock of finding out that her husband was dead and had not run off.
“Just a minute, Elizabeth. What do you mean they accused Tim? How did Eddie die?”
“He was shot in the head. Tim was furious at the police.”
“Shot in the head, dear God in Heaven. Who could have done such a thing? And me cursing the poor man all these years.” Elizabeth felt terrible for breaking the news like this. How selfish of her. She would say no more. “Now Lass, what is it you said about Tim saying something terrible to the police?” Bertha could see Elizabeth withdrawing, but she wanted to get to the bottom of this right now. She had enough shocks for one day. “Come on now, you started, you might as well go on.”
“Tim said he left the only woman he ever loved and gave up his life because his father left. He said the only woman he ever loved, and we both know that was Jenny.” Elizabeth was heartbroken. “After all these years, he still loves Jenny Barstow.” She looked at Bertha for a response. Bertha stared at her; she was filled with a guilt of her own that had nothing to do with Jenny. What she said next surprised Elizabeth.
“He said he gave up his life? Is that how he felt all those years working to support the rest of us?” Bertha started to cry. “Dear God, Eddie is dead and Tim thinks I made him give up his life. I cursed my poor dead husband all these years. Dear God in Heaven, take me to your bosom this day.”
“Oh, what a mess I have made of everything. I am so sorry, Mother McKitterek.” Elizabeth was crying and Bertha was crying, both for their own reasons. Together, they held each other for almost an hour without speaking another word.
When Tim returned neither woman said a word about their conversation. He assumed the solemn mood was because of Arthur's passing. Megan and Sammy visited with Bertha the next day before she left for home. Tim tried to give Elizabeth the support she needed but he was grieving too. He missed Arthur a great deal, and also had full responsibility for the shops now that his partner was gone. He had a great deal on his mind and decided not to tell his mother about the police visit.
His mother returned to London without Tim knowing that she had been told about her husband's death. Elizabeth never mentioned it or Jenny again. She would be the best wife she could be and she would love her husband until the day she died knowing in her heart that he loved another.
Part Two
1938
Chapter Twenty
“Gordon, not another war!” Jenny sat in her parlor, a light pink shawl draped over her shoulders. Gordon admired her well-coifed look. Her Coco Chanel day suit was a dark rose with square shoulders and a trim waist. The skirt was full and just below the knee and a single strand of white pearls graced her throat. She pushed a lock of brown hair peppered with gray, back from her face.
“I hope not, Jenny, but it certainly looks like the Germans are determined to take over Europe.” Gordon, at age fifty- eight was still a handsome man. His hair was gray and he wore a small mustache. His long jacket had padded shoulders and his trousers were straight and wide. He had remained single since his divorce from Amy.
“It took years for us to recover from the last war. I am getting too old for all of this nonsense; both of us are. Too many people have left my life since the last war.” Jenny moved the photograph of Abigail and Zachariah to the top of the mantle. Her finger traced their faces. “How I miss them.”
“Yes, I miss them too, and Jenny, you are not old. Fifty-three looks very good on you, especially in that outfit.” A broad smile crossed her face. He always made her smile. Every since Harry had passed away, Gordon had been her constant companion. The two enjoyed a platonic relationship. “Are Rose and the children expected this afternoon?”
“I hope so. When she telephoned, she said they were arriving from France via London on the four o'clock train. I don't know whether to go to the station or send Walter alone. Sometimes I don't know what I would do without Walter. He is chauffeur, gardener and even babysitter when the children come.”
“I can still remember how good Walter was with Jake and Rose when they were youngsters. It is nice that Walter has stayed with you all of these years, Jenny.”
“Walter is like a son to me. Many times I have told him that he does not have to work for me, but he insists. He said, ‘He needs to feel important.’ Imagine that, I tell him how important he is every day but he wants to earn his way. I am lucky to have him.”
“It was a stroke of genius the day Harry brought the gardening books home.”
“Yes, dear Harry. Walter was getting so frustrated with trying to read that he had just given up. Harry appeared with the gardening books, and Walter suddenly wanted to read them.” Jenny sighed as she remembered Harry and Walter, heads bent over the books for hours. “Harry was a special man, Gordon. I miss him very much.” Her eyes began to tear. She took a deep breath to compose herself.
“Yes, he was. Now you have Walter to keep you company and he has come a long way since the day you brought him home. Now about the train.”
“I really don't feel like standing in the train station. Walter is capable.”
“Let Walter go alone. You know he will have a pocket full of candy for the children. You are right; he is not only a very good manservant, but he is definitely a member of the family.” Gordon handed Jenny a Ming Vase, which she stored in the cabinet. “This way you and I can chat before all hell breaks loose.”
“Gordon, my grandchildren are not hellions.”
“Yes, Jenny dear. I am afraid they are. You admitted yourself that you are happy they live in France and you only see them twice a year.” Jenny blushed at being reminded of her words. “Sometimes I am happy th
at Jake never married. At least I don't have to hide the good china.” They laughed as Jenny put her Royal Doulton china safely in the cabinet. Gordon watched her as she removed several pieces of fine china and artwork. Walter appeared with the tea tray. He was tall with an attractive face and blond, curly hair. As usual, a broad smile graced his face.
“Walter, thank you. Can you go and pick up Rose and the children at the station alone?”
“Yes, I will do that, and you and Mr. Gordon can have a nice chat and a cup of tea. Yes, I can do that.” Walter handed the tray to Gordon. “I brought those special chocolate cookies that you like, Mr. Gordon.” He turned on his heel to leave. Jenny and Gordon watched the thirty- seven-year old man skip from the room. He was a child at heart and Jenny's heart filled with love as she watched him. Walter was as close to being her own flesh and blood as anyone. He had blossomed under the love and care she had given him.
“Did I tell you our battalion reunion is here in Edinburgh this year?” Gordon set the tray on the small table between their chairs.
“Really, you are still getting together after all these years?”
“Yes, we're just glad we're all too old for this war. Unfortunately we all have sons. Some of the chaps have died, others just stopped coming but there are six of us left. We enjoy each other's company.”
“I think it is wonderful that you have kept in touch.” She sat down facing him. “Gordon, I must tell you something before Rose gets here. Did you know that Amy has been admitted to the hospice in France? Rose said her memory is almost completely gone now. Dear Lord, what a sad state of affairs for someone so young.” Jenny and Amy had remained friends although Amy had lived abroad for many years.
“Poor Amy. What a terrible ending for such a vibrant woman.” His eyes misted over, “I still love her, you know.”
“Yes, Gordon, I know.” Jenny reached for his hand. “Perhaps we should visit her?”