Bold, Brash and Brave

by Alan Tansley

  The merchant waited until the end of the day, and after Joseph waved off the threshing team, he was ready for his dinner. He waved to George when he set off home, and as Joseph approached the door, the agent jumped out of his carriage, asking if he had made up his mind. ‘No, I want an extra shilling a hundredweight, else nothing.’

  ‘Oh bloody hellfire, come on then,’ moaned the agent, and opening his case, followed Joseph inside the house.

  With the deal done, the agent began handing around the goods, including toys for the children. Mahala informed him that George now had three, so that James and Laura wouldn’t be left out. After leaving toys, brandy, tobacco and lace, and an overpriced payment for the corn, the agent looked a little miffed when he left.

  Later that evening, and knowing the merchant would pay the money straight into their bank, Joseph relaxed in his chair with a drink of brandy in one hand and his pipe in the other. Mahala eyed him, then sat by his side, asking cheekily, ‘Are you sure you are comfortable?’

  ‘I am, my love. Because of our ancestors we have employment, we have a home, we have a beautiful family—except for losing our Henry—and more to the point, we all have a future. Now, how many more families can say that around here—not many, and why? Because we were bloody lucky. We had the chance to work hard to make what we have, and many weren’t given that chance.’ After drinking up, Joseph kept the glass in his hand, stared at the fire and, sounding subdued, said, ‘Mahala, you were right to start your mothers’ union, and I was only kidding, trying to put you off.’

  ‘So now you admit it, you bugger,’ she gasped, then playfully punched him on the shoulder

  Joseph caught her hand and pulled her to him. He kissed her passionately, and then said, ‘Do you know, my love; I would have packed all this in if it hadn’t been for you. You have always been the backbone of this family.’

  ‘Aye, a likely story,’ she gasped, then Joseph pulled her to him and kissed her passionately again. Looking into his eyes, she said, ‘Love and honesty has been the backbone of this family, and I hope it always will be.’

  Chapter 32

  Timothy and Penelope had returned home to an empty house. They found out from a letter left by the maid that she had resigned. Eyebrows were raised and questions were asked, such as had she injured herself, had she been molested or was she pregnant. Straight away, Timothy took offence at the idea that he could be involved. Penelope assured him there would be no complications for him, but it was the norm to ask, preferably before servants resigned, as extra payments might have to be found.

  The following day, a further letter from the maid arrived, explaining that she wasn’t pregnant, she had had just found employment nearer her home. Fifteen minutes later, everything was in print and signed; as soon as the courier left, Penelope began to advertise for a governess. Now, because of the children’s ages, and with James attending a nearby school, she stated that the applicant must have good quality nursery and teaching skills. During this time, Timothy went back to work and was immediately called in front of his superiors. Wondering what was wrong, he thought that, as he was approaching the age of thirty-six, his career might be ending, but the worried expression on his face soon changed when he was told that he would be promoted.

  Because of his noted tactical skills, Timothy was now put in charge of officer training, and unfortunately, it was stressed that his knowledge had to be passed on. To Timothy’s mind, it was also time the army made a giant step forward and took on board modern technology. He made a mistake in mentioning this and he was immediately asked to explain himself. Timothy took a deep breath and, starting from the beginning, began to explain that the days of horses doing all the hard work were over. Brigadier-General Forbes Hargreaves snapped, ‘Yes, yes, we know all about all that. Germany is a country at potential war with all its neighbours. The propaganda emitting from that country is extreme. They’re saying that they’ve already trained up their countrymen from the primary school boys to their grandfathers. What we want is the modernisation of tactical and strategic warfare. We must get the most out of our troops.’

  ‘With all due respect, sir, that is also a statement of the past. We must get the most out of our mechanical investments, and at the moment we are not doing so.’ No longer bothered about his future in the army, and considering that he had already come this far and may as well push the point home, Timothy took a deep breath and addressed their blank faces. Whatever the outcome, he had to leave his mark. ‘Troops are people, and without people we have no country,’ he said. ‘Mechanisation is the only way to win a war; a machine is far stronger than a man, and if we don’t soon progress with this idea, we will be left to the devices of anyone who has mechanised, not just the Germans. They already have thousands of tanks and aeroplanes, and their men are already trained to operate them. What have we got? Nothing. So are we sending over another thousand horses towing little cannons again?’

  A general stood up and angrily shouted, ‘You are dismissed!’

  Timothy saluted and exited the room, leaving the door open defiantly.

  Timothy knew very well that he had offended his superiors, but his words were designed to shock them into listening to him. The English army at the time was totally outdated, understaffed and under-qualified. Despite the upheavals of the previous war, it still relied on tradition. ‘Tradition doesn’t win wars,’ thought Timothy.

  Rickets, measles, mumps, diphtheria, tuberculosis and many more gastric and respiratory conditions between birth and death were now commonplace. This caused the government an enormous headache, because while they still had to tax individuals to supplement under-rated armaments, they also knew there were other national necessities.

  Even though Britain had won the war, it was at great cost to the nation, in men as well as money. Britain’s position as a world force was now placed in doubt, despite maintaining a strong naval service, yet many working in the countryside still could not care less, and plodded on as if nothing had changed. The naval advantage Britain had held for so long was no longer so significant, given that other countries had developed stronger navies.

  Sitting in his office, Timothy pondered his future, and knew that he would struggle to find a decent career outside of the army. There only seemed to be one leading politician at this moment, but it was doubtful whether could he be trusted with a nation, when years ago he ordered troops to fire amongst demonstrating miners.

  Deciding he must seek another career, Timothy began to read through his paperwork and had to smile when he remembered that he had just been promoted. He was still indecisive three days later, when he read a telegram from George that caused him to stare and drop numbly into his chair. Joseph had been using the tractor to uproot tree stumps when it had suddenly lurched over and crushed him. With the doctor in attendance and the family devastated, Joseph lasted through the night, but he died early the following morning.

  Timothy was immediately given compassionate leave and, accompanied by Penelope, James, and Laura, caught the next train north. Mr Webster and his family were waiting for them at the station with a pony and trap, and very little was said while they were on their way to the farm. When they arrived, Mahala was looking distraught, and sitting in the living room by the side of Joseph’s open casket. George and Florence were with her, and Florence was holding Georgina’s hand. When the door opened, Florence stood up, gathered all the children together and ushered them into the bedroom.

  Timothy stared at his dad, who just looked asleep, but turning to his mum and seeing the state she was in, he desperately fought hard to hold back tears. Penelope leant down and kissed Mahala on the cheek, and without a word being said, she made her way into the kitchen. Timothy placed a hand on his mum’s shoulder, and when he kissed her cheek, she patted his arm.

  Timothy sat with George and asked how it had happened, but George’s explanation was broken off when Mahala began to cry. Timothy went to her when she stood up, and staring at him, she said, ‘We have already d
iscussed the consequences if this ever happened, so after the funeral tomorrow afternoon, we will have a family meeting.’

  Their last horse, which they had planned to sell the following week, pulled the cart bearing Joseph’s coffin. A very sombre Mr Webster walked alongside the horse, holding the reins. The sun shone, casting shadows through the trees, and the family solemnly followed. They met with the Webster family in the lane that led to the village, and continued towards the churchyard.

  Only four other people were in the churchyard. The parson observed the family one at a time, and he could tell by George’s face that he was fuming with anger.

  George waited patiently until the sermon had ended, and as soon as Joseph’s coffin was lowered, his temper cracked and he spun around, shouting, ‘When you go back to your homes today, thank all your neighbours for attending my father’s funeral. Neighbours he saved from starving, neighbours he didn’t prosecute for poaching, neighbours he allowed to nick our crops when he knew they were hungry. Believe me, I shan’t forget, because from now on you can all be damned. I’ll shoot the next man I see trespassing, if that’s all the thanks you get for being honest and neighbourly.’

  Timothy agreed with George to an extent. ‘Come on, George,’ he said, and began to lead him away. Mr Webster shook their hands and politely informed them he would return home with his family and see them at a later date.

  ‘Thank you all, and you know you are always welcome at the farm. Joseph held you all in good esteem and so do I,’ said Mahala, and trying to smile, she quickly turned around to hide her face. She seemed unbalanced, as if something was missing that had always held her up, but Florence and Penelope steadied her by linking their arms in hers.

  They arrived back at the farm thirty minutes later, and the children went to read quietly in the bedroom. Timothy and Penelope sat outside drinking tea. When they began to discuss their futures, George and Florence joined them, saying Mahala had fallen asleep in the chair. Reluctantly, they all began to plan.

  ‘Don’t forget, whatever we dream up, mum is still the boss,’ said Timothy. ‘I must say this though, I do think your outburst in the churchyard was warranted, but really it fell on deaf ears.’ He felt Penelope squeeze his hand and smiled at her.

  Florence glanced at George before saying, ‘Tim, you don’t really know what has been said around here; your mum and dad put up with a lot, but never said anything.’

  ‘The villagers even tried to drag the Webster family down because they were connected with our family,’ said George. ‘Mind you, Florence’s dad is made of better stuff, and everyone knows it.’

  ‘I’ll send a telegram to work and ask for more leave, and I’ll help with the farm as much as I can. After dinner this evening, we’ll try to come up with a solution to the labour problem.

  Mahala stood behind them, listening, and decided to interrupt now, saying, ‘That won’t be necessary. Joseph was planning to take on a worker next year, so we can still carry out his wishes.’

  Timothy stood up, saying, ‘Mother, I have given this a lot of thought, and I have decided that if they will allow me, I will resign my post. Though there are some that will say I’ve done it to escape responsibility, especially when it looks like there is another war looming.’

  ‘The steering wheel of that bloody tractor crushed your dad’s chest, and later he died in my arms. The doctor did everything he could to save him, but when you think about all the work he has done around here, the risks he has taken just to give us and you a fair way of life, that’s the thanks God gave him. Do what you must, son, and that goes for all of you, because it seems to me that when it’s time for you to go up there with God, he could take you anytime.’

  Penelope and Florence wiped tears from their eyes as they watched Mahala go back inside the house. George hugged Florence, saying, ‘Mum will never recover from all this.’

  ‘We’ll just have to try and help her then, won’t we?’

  ‘Not half,’ he whispered.

  Two weeks later, George and Florence had worked out a better rota for tending the animals, and Timothy and Penelope returned home with their children. Mahala thought they were gone for good; she didn’t know they had different ideas.

  There were other changes. The colliery owner was making plans to lay coal-gas piping to the village, providing gas lamp street lighting and piped gas for heating their houses. However, construction work had to stop immediately when tuberculosis attacked the area.

  This disease had no limits and didn’t care who it struck down. It was highly contagious, and most people in its grip had to be quarantined. In the cities, large empty houses were being commandeered to isolate patients, sterilised top to bottom before they were made habitable. In the countryside, families were advised to do the same, but they still had to look after their own.

  In the village, the church was closed, except for burials, and only the ale house remained open. Its customers were dwindling fast, as most people kept to themselves, fearing contagion.

  One month after Joseph’s death, Timothy decided to resign his post. His superiors decided differently, so they refused his resignation and issued him with a two-month cooling off period, after which they would contact him again.

  Their housekeeper was paid up and their house was put up for sale. They packed six trunks, and the journey to the farm was planned. The children were excited by the train journey, but Timothy frowned as he discussed their future, his arm around Penelope

  ‘Timothy, we are all with you,’ Penelope assured him. ‘We are sick of this filthy, grimy way of life around here, and you know full well it is getting worse. What are you worried about?’

  ‘It’s so far away from your relations, though.’

  ‘So what? None of my parents’ family ever visited us, not that I ever want them to anyway. You know that every one of them has always looked down on us, and that’s something your parents never did.’

  Timothy stared out of the window and said, ‘Well, yes, my love, that’s true.’

  ‘So let’s go and start a new life together. But promise me this, if you ever drive that tractor, make sure it’s safe first.’

  ‘That I will do. In fact, I might strip it down just to see if it can be altered in any way to make it safer. You know me, I’ve just got to get the best out of everything.’

  Chapter 33

  Timothy and Penelope had two weeks of hard work, mainly revolving around the animals and planning next year’s crop rotation. They really wanted to conduct their business quickly, before leaving the children with Mahala. They returned home to finish packing and make final arrangements for selling their house, intending to return to the farm with the rest of their belongings as soon as possible.

  When they arrived in Birmingham, they had a quick meal in a café and then a meeting with Penelope’s solicitor about her investments. He assured her that they were sound, and that he would contact her immediately about any offers for with the house. Timothy and Penelope shook hands with him and left him their forwarding address.

  Five hours later, they were travelling north with four more trunks in the goods compartment. Penelope rested on Timothy’s shoulder, and he asked her how her stocks and shares became valuable in the first place. ‘Many of my investments were gifts from my father and are government industrial bonds issued just before the start of First World War. But, as the lawyer said, if another world war begins when their value peaks, I should offer them for sale.’

  ‘I meant, how do you get ordinary shares? For some of my mates in the army, they were the be all and end all of their lives.’

  ‘They can be purchased very easily, just like going into a shop.’

  ‘Oh’, said Timothy, but still didn’t understand. He never questioned Penelope again about finances, and had always thought it was personal anyway. He had to smile when he reached the station; he had forgotten to order a pony and trap.

  Mrs Webster sent one of the children to the local trader and made them a drink of tea w
hile they waited.

  ‘How come tea up here in the north always tastes better than at home?’ Penelope asked with a laugh.

  ‘Because we brew it longer, and, I might add, our baking is also far superior because we grind our flour longer as well,’ said Mrs Webster. She heard a hooting noise, stood up and glanced out of the window, and then made an entry in a ledger.

  Fifteen minutes later, the pony and trap arrived. The driver and Timothy struggled to tie all of their luggage safely on the back. When everyone was on board, they set off.

  During their absence, Mahala, George and Florence, had discussed the running of the farm, but George had assured her that it was not necessary to take on any extra labour. However, a new breed of visitor began to call regularly; they were called travelling reps, and the first one who came by inadvertently informed them that a neighbouring farm might be coming up for sale, and this information made George pensive.

  Two weeks later, Timothy, Penelope and the children had settled in, and everything was going to plan. They had arranged a new working routine with George, and this was running smoothly. Every Sunday, after dinner, they discussed plans, ideas and alterations, ready to make amicable compromises to try to suit everyone.

  The neighbouring farm of sixty acres was advertised as being for sale, and the possibility of buying it was debated. Aware that the land wasn’t as well looked after as it should have been, Timothy stood up and after a thoughtful pace around the room, he said, ‘I think it’s time to put some of dad’s plans in action. If we could buy that farm, what about if George with his family moved in there, then we could use his cottage to rent out to a worker and his family? We will stay in here with mum and, in time, update everyone’s quarters.’

  Looking tired and pasty and feeling unwell, as she often had been lately, Mahala stood up. Turning to George, she asked, ‘Would you mind that happening?’

  ‘We would have to view their property first, mum; I haven’t been on the Simpkins’ land for years. This I do know, though: that agent said that each year their order was getting smaller, and you know what that means, don’t you?’