Bold, Brash and Brave

by Alan Tansley

  ‘Good grief, dad,’ gasped George, also staring amazedly.

  ‘That is the future, my lad,’ said a very pleased-looking Joseph, and with a big grin on his face, began to follow the tractor.

  The iron-wheeled horse was bought, and as they waited for delivery, Joseph and George began to alter and adjust their present horse-drawn equipment to fit the tractor. Mr Webster did most of the ironwork, being used to blacksmithing at the colliery. On the Sunday, after being paid for his labour, Mr Webster began to outline the villagers’ intentions. They were going to ballot everyone and form a council which was to look after the area’s general conditions.

  ‘Each family would pay into a fund, and this fund would pay the wages of anyone contracted to do the repairs,’ he explained.

  ‘These ideas always look good on paper,’ moaned Joseph, taking a drink of tea.

  Mahala sat up, saying, ‘My mothers’ circle was doing well at looking after people until all those rumours about Henry started. I don’t suppose paying someone to look after the lanes and chop down trees would cost much.’

  ‘That’s not the point, woman. Will they come here and ask us to join? I very much doubt it; anyway, they can all go get lost for me.’

  ‘Me as well. One of those so-called neighbours threw a stone at our Mavis’s window last week, the evil buggers,’ moaned Mrs Webster, and turning to Mahala, she asked ‘Have you heard anything from your Timothy of late?’

  ‘No, not since Penelope wrote three years ago. I wonder which she had,’ she replied, while lovingly smiled.

  Henry had not been the only soldier killed in the locality; there had been eighteen casualties. This included a gypsy lad whose real date of birth was never found out. To add salt in the wound, a memorial garden was to be constructed, then a monument bearing their names erected in it. The main gripe of the villagers was that none of their sons’ bodies had been returned home, and they were bitter that a soldier accused of dereliction of duty had received such an elaborate burial and his own gravestone.

  Not bothering to fill in and submit his voting paper, Joseph carried on working the land with his new baby. The tractor made light work of ploughing the land, and the work was finished in a tenth of the time. With an adjusted trailer, they were able to carry a larger animal container on the back, and he and George transported twenty piglets and five calves to market.

  Three hours later, and returning with an empty trailer, they were both in good spirits when they turned off the road to the village taking them towards the farm. They stopped the tractor when they noticed a tall, highly polished monument behind a small stone wall that was adorned with flowers. Joseph stopped, applied the foot-brake, and then they both walked over to inspect an upright stone plinth, about eight feet high. They weren’t sure what to call it, and then George noticed names carved in the sides.

  They read out the names, and realised that they were the locally enlisted men killed in the war. They looked for Henry’s name, and noticed he wasn’t mentioned. In silence, they turned and set off towards the tractor.

  Now they were both quiet and pensive as they continued their journey. They passed the farmhouse, waving to Mahala as they went by, and continued to George’s cottage. Not a word was spoken until Joseph stopped the tractor. Florence came out, and smiling, asked if they had done well at the market. George replied in the affirmative, and after Joseph had kissed then cuddled Georgina, they all three stood waving when Joseph set off home.

  George had grown increasingly angry about Henry’s name being missing off the monument. After dinner, he would walk up to his parents’ house, notify them of his intentions to chisel in Henry’s name, and do it if they agreed.

  Joseph had drawn the shape of the monument and, recognising it, Mahala said it was an obelisk similar to Cleopatra’s in Egypt.

  ‘Oh, well I didn’t know what sort it was,’ said Joseph.

  ‘I wonder who the hell thought that up?’ asked Mahala.

  An hour later, George called and informed them of his intentions about the monument. His parents’ response was to bicker. He waited patiently, but when he received no answer, his patience snapped. He swung open the door, strode out, and then slammed it shut after himself.

  Knowing that George had left in a huff because they didn’t give him a decision, Mahala glared at Joseph, shouting, ‘You wouldn’t know anything because all you are bothered about is riding on that bloody tractor all day long.’

  ‘Oh give over, woman.’

  ‘I bloody well won’t, and if you think I am staying in this house all day long waiting for your delivery of paraffin tomorrow, you have another thing coming.’

  ‘Right then, get to that bloody railway station tomorrow morning, wire Timothy and catch the next train there, because you are getting on my nerves now. I know what’s bothering you, and you are driving me balmy with it,’ shouted Joseph, and stormed out of the house.

  Mahala stared, because she knew that her problem was really the fact that she hadn’t heard from Timothy or Penelope for three years. Knowing that there was another grandchild who she hadn’t even seen was deeply troubling to her.

  ‘Right, I bloody well will then,’ she moaned, and slipped on her coat to leave the house.

  She decided that it was better to make arrangements now rather than leave things until the morning. As she continued down the lane towards the village, she encountered George walking towards her. He asked her where she was going, and offered her an escort as it was getting dark. Mahala accepted, and with her arm in George’s, she glanced at the houses they passed as she continued towards the Websters’ house. Mahala kept her smile on, knowing they were being observed, and it remained until George knocked on the Websters’ door.

  Mrs Webster welcomed them inside and began to explain that her husband had gone to visit a potential trainee collier. She made some tea as she listened to Mahala, and understanding her feelings, she placed cups and the teapot on the table and then began to organise timetables.

  Just over an hour later, with everything arranged, Mahala and George began to walk home through the village, It seemed that more curtains were ajar than when they arrived. There was a blast of cold air blowing up the lane when they passed the memorial, and both stopped to read the obelisk.

  ‘I am not decrying what they have done; I think it is most respectful for the dead. I just wish they had the guts to notify me why they left Henry off… I suppose really it’s just human nature,’ Mahala sighed. She slipped her arm in George’s and they set off again.

  First thing the next morning, Mrs Webster sent a wire to the army offices, as before, only this time, she asked Timothy to meet his mum in two days’ time. But the wire was unnecessary, as at teatime the following day, Timothy drove a single horse drawn carriage towards the farm. James was sitting in between him and Penelope, and she was carrying Laura.

  As they entered the fold yard, Joseph was driving in from the fields and Mahala was working in the kitchen. Seeing them, she shrieked and ran out towards them. There were hugs and kisses for everyone, except for George who had seen them and, without acknowledging anyone, politely set off for home.

  Timothy noticed, excused himself from Penelope and dashed after him. George waved his arms and shouted, ‘Fuck off, Tim. I just don’t want to know.’

  ‘George, please, you know there are always two sides to any story. Please… will you just listen to me for a moment?’

  ‘Why? What for? You were always a prat, so just stay one.’

  ‘For God’s sake, will you bloody well listen to me? It’s like talking to a pile of horse shit!’

  George stopped, seething with anger, and let fly with his fist. Timothy caught the blow with his hand, and staring into his eyes, shouted, ‘This time I won’t catch it. You can have a free go!’

  He dropped George’s hand and let his arms fall by his side, sticking his chin out.

  George stared, then said, ‘You are not worth it.’ He turned and walked off.

 
Regretfully, Timothy turned and began to walk back towards the house. His father was standing in the doorway, watching them, but Joseph smiled and waited while everyone went inside. As they settled down, both children sat in Mahala’s lap, staring up at her face while she explained what animals they had. ‘And do you really have some pigs?’ asked Laura.

  ‘Oh yes, and I’ll tell you what, if your mum and dad want to, you can all stay here for a few days, then we can show you around.’

  ‘Oh please, dad, can we?’ begged James, staring at him.

  ‘I suppose so,’ he replied, and turning to his dad, Timothy asked, ‘Will it be alright to stay for a few days? I’m on three weeks leave with nothing to do, so you can have some free labour.’

  ‘I’d like to see you get out of it.’ Joseph grinned when the children cheered.

  That night, as they ate dinner, Mahala suddenly gasped and explained that she had asked Mrs Webster to send a wire to the army offices.

  ‘It’s alright, mum,’ smiled Joseph. ‘They’ll soon discount it because they know where we are.’

  ‘They won’t be angry, then?’ she asked. ‘Unlike someone I could mention, who is sitting very near to us,’ she added, staring at Joseph.

  ‘Don’t start again, woman, or else I’ll put you on the next train down there just out of devilment for the peace and quiet.’

  ‘Now I know where he gets his temper from,’ said Penelope, and laughed at Timothy.

  ‘Don’t bring me into it, else I will begin to tell tales.’ Then all suddenly turned when the door opened. They were shocked to see Georgina leading the way, with Florence and then George behind them. They entered the room, and George closed the door behind them.

  Timothy stood up, then slowly walked over to them. After shaking hands with Florence, he knelt down and said hello to Georgina and kissed her cheek. When they slowly set off towards the others, it left George staring at him.

  Timothy held his hand out, and when it seemed he was going to walk by, George shook it. Staring at Timothy sternly, he snapped, ‘Before this night is out, I want to know the entire story.’

  ‘Of course, Lance-Corporal,’ replied Timothy. Smiling sadly, he slapped him on the shoulder.

  Chapter 30

  Voices were only occasionally raised between the men, and Mahala soon quashed any display of anger. The women chatted away, but Penelope did most of the talking, making it seem as if she lacked female company. The obvious was brought up when Florence asked what her parents thought about their grandchildren.

  ‘Well now, my parents divorced years ago. They have never seen my mum, and unfortunately my father has since died,’ she replied.

  ‘Oh, I’m very sorry,’ Florence replied, and recalled being informed of this when they had visited the last time.

  Later that evening, the family rift was nearly healed, and all three children were fast asleep. Joseph decided to bring out a bottle of brandy and poured out some drinks. George was surprised when Timothy told him that he was working in the army offices.

  Knowing that Timothy couldn’t give much away, George asked, ‘So what is your rank now? And more to the point, what are the army’s plans for you in the future?’

  ‘I have attained the rank of Brigadier, and for my sins will shortly be posted to North Africa. It’s only for six months, while we sort out the chiefs from the Indians. The only trouble is that this is the third lot of fighting techniques I’ve had to learn; I’ll have to deal with dry arid desert conditions, and with sandstorms to boot.’

  Staring at him, Mahala gasped, ‘You’re doing what?’

  Penelope decided to intervene, saying, ‘My father was being posted there, but unfortunately the war started before he could get there. Now it seems that Timothy is finishing it off.’

  Looking amazed, George gasped, ‘Bloody hell, brother. I bet you are on a right screw now. Hell fire, with a pension to boot as well, boy oh boy, have you done well.’

  ‘I am not bragging to anybody,’ Timothy replied. ‘I always said it was my intention to make a career in the army, and I have.’ Then he saw his mother staring at him, and as if knowing what she was thinking, he stood up, saying, ‘If you don’t mind dad, could I go and bed the horse down for the night?’

  ‘Go on, lad.’

  ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ said George, grasping the table to help him stand.

  Timothy had hired the horse and trap for three days from a station between Sheffield and the village, because the train had broken down—it was lucky that Mahala hadn’t been on it after all.

  When they were sauntering towards the old stable, George quietly asked Timothy if he would explain in more detail what had happened to Henry.

  Timothy told his story again, watching as George bowed his head and fought back tears of anger and sorrow. Timothy placed his hand his shoulder and said, ‘George, it broke my heart when I saw what I had done, but it was done. What could I do? There was no going back, and now it will be on my mind for the rest of my life. In fact, I think that’s why I have this rank now, I’m sure they gave it me out of bloody sympathy.’

  ‘I fully understand now.’

  ‘Thank you, brother. Anyway, how’s the leg, is it fully healed yet?’

  ‘Oh yes, since dad made me a peg-leg, the only thing I can’t do is run, but I can walk at a fast rate. Before we go any further, what can we do to reverse our Henry’s record? I know I can’t do anything from here, but seeing as he saved my life and the lives of others, there must be something.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, don’t worry. Come on, let’s go back inside now, it’s getting a little chilly.’

  Mahala had never enjoyed mealtimes so much as she did from the following morning onwards. She smiled continuously as she answered the usual questions from her grandchildren: ‘What’s this grandma? What’s it for? Can you eat it? Does it taste nice?’

  ‘It’s a turnip.’

  ‘Where’s it come from?’

  ‘It’s a root vegetable, and it grows in the fields.’ Penelope had to rescue her from their nattering, but she didn’t really mind, having been through it with James.

  Later, when all were sitting around the table, it made Mahala feel especially proud when she received compliments such as ‘This tastes gorgeous grandma, we’ve never eaten anything like this before.’

  Even a simple boiled egg for breakfast received their thanks, and Mahala had to top it off by saying, ‘It’s because the eggs are recently laid so they’re fresh.’

  Timothy helped George and his dad, and like them, he was amazed with the efficiency of the tractor. Studying its power, he yelled, ‘How much horse power did you say it was equal to?’

  Proudly, his father shouted, ‘Eight!’ as he passed him in the tractor.

  He took it all in, including the positioning of slats welded to the iron wheels for grip. Later that evening, after dinner, Timothy began to sketch a tractor, but soon put everything away when Penelope sat with him. She kissed him and then, smiling, asked, ‘Is it possible to stay another day or so?’

  ‘I don’t really know.’

  ‘It’s just that the children love it here, and so do I.’

  Mahala overheard, and came into the living room, beaming a smile and saying ‘So just let him go back to Birmingham on his own. You three stay here and enjoy yourselves.’

  ‘Oh no, that wouldn’t be fair, mother. James has his schooling, and there’s the maid to consider. Besides, in all honesty, I didn’t think Penelope would take to this simple country way of life,’ replied Timothy, and smirking at her, he added, ‘It’s a completely different way of life to living in the city.’

  ‘That I will agree to, but let’s be fair, it’s a damn sight better living here,’ said Penelope, grinning.

  Three days later, after Mrs Webster had worked out their train times, Timothy, Penelope, James and Laura set off on the trap to catch the train for home. It was a tearful farewell for all, especially the children,

  That evening, Joseph sat at the
table going through his diary, having decided to plant more corn as he already planned to buy a corn binder. Of course, it would be towed by the tractor, but this implement cut the corn and tied it into sheaths, making it much easier to transport then store over winter.

  Joseph knew that their work had to become easier. He had discussed it with George, after he recently fell in the field having caught his peg-leg in a tree root, and they knew that with each year that passed, they were all getting older. Generally, they were all in good health, but George was aware of one factor that could upset their family again, and that was Georgina starting school.

  A rumour was passed on by Mrs Webster that a Mrs Robinson had been appointed to teach children in the area by the recently appointed county council, and according to form, one of the rooms in the church had already been made available for her. When Georgina was told that she might have to attend the new school, she immediately expressed a desire to stay as she was, working on the farm and being taught by her Grandma Webster and Grandma Cotton. Georgina was very bright and a quick learner, reading and writing from an early age; she took everything in, and it stayed there.

  They were now entering the year of the Great Depression, which immediately caused a general strike, and in certain areas, the British army were called upon by the government to quell and dismiss the crowds. Having had had enough of working long hours for a pittance, the colliers and mill workers were fed up with going home to starving families. In the past they had not dared to poach animals in the daylight, but as they were now out of work, they had increased possibilities to catch a rabbit or wood pigeon during the day. Survival had always been a struggle for the working classes, but in the mid-to-late twenties, they were losing the battle to live, and fast.

  Timothy was abroad again, and remained unaffected by the orders to bring military rule to civilian citizens in Britain. He looked very well, having enjoyed the weather, the food and the drink. The job he was sent to do wasn’t yet over, but he was well in advance of the schedule given.