Shattered Dreams

by Vivienne Dockerty

  “Eddie!” His lovely wife was waiting at the top of the drive for him, her eyes full of tears as he hurried to take her in his arms, while Lily watched curiously from a chink in the pantry window blind.

  “Why didn’t you say you were coming? I wouldn’t have gone to the canteen tonight, I would have stayed at home waiting for you.”

  In a muffled voice, as he rested his chin in the collar of her lightweight coat, feeling her bony shoulders under his outstretched arms, he told her he didn’t want her to have the worry of seeing the telegraph boy appearing on his bike. His throat was aching as he held her, he wanted to cry, releasing tears himself. Oh hell what a day, it had been nothing like he imagined, nothing like the homecoming that you saw in a romantic film, but at least Irene was his for a short while, ’til he was back in the bloody war.

  The next morning, as Eddie looked forward to his daughter running into their bedroom to welcome him back with excited squeals, there came another shock for him. Gina stood shyly in the doorway looking at him with enormous eyes as she gazed at the strange man in bed with her mummy. Lily stood behind her, wrapped up in an all-enveloping nightgown, urging the child to run to her daddy and give him a kiss and a hug.

  “That’s not my daddy,” lisped Gina, close to tears at the sight of Eddie. “My daddy’s gone to fight the Germans, that’s not my daddy in the bed.”

  She turned and ran back to her bedroom, as Lily raised her eyes to heaven and gave a shrug.

  “She’ll come round, Eddie,” said Irene consolingly. “You have to remember it’s been nearly a year since she saw you and a year’s a long time for a four year old.”

  She snuggled down beside him, putting her hand in his to give it a reassuring squeeze.

  “You never said how long your leave is, she’ll probably have got used to you when you’re going off again.”

  “Thanks for those comforting words, Irene. I have to be back at the barracks on Saturday evening. I only managed to get a bit of leave because I’d not been given any since I joined.

  “You’ll probably go to France then,” Irene replied in a sleepy voice. “Pierre was telling me that the British and the Allies are all preparing to meet up on the beaches in France and give the Germans a bloody nose.”

  “What!” said Eddie looking down at Irene in horror. “Who’s this Pierre and how does he know what plans the War Office is making? Irene that kind of information is privileged, he’d be shot if someone heard him telling you that.”

  “Oh he’s the commander at the French barracks, Eddie. He sometimes walks me home from the canteen. It’s probably all guess work on his part, though actually he was telling me that people like me were needed to help win the war.”

  “What good would a canteen assistant be behind the front lines in France, Irene? What would you do if you saw a German, hit him over the head with your soup tureen?”

  “No, silly. It’s because I understand French and of course speak it a little. They need women like me to be dropped by parachute into one of the major towns and report back to headquarters via a wireless. It sounds exciting and I told Pierre I’d have a jolly good think about it. Just think I might...”

  “Stop right there, Irene. You are not leaving this house and traipsing off to heaven knows where. Have you lost your senses? You could be shot as soon as your parachute landed or, even worse, taken off by some looney and interrogated. Get back in the real world, Irene, you’ve been reading too many books and they must have gone to your head.”

  He sprang out of bed and stalked off down to the bathroom. What was it with some people and now his wife, full of desire to serve their country, thinking that one person could somehow alter the War? It was the bloody government feeding them on bullshit and propaganda, but the politicians weren’t out there doing the fighting, they had a comfy bunker in which to lay their heads.

  For the thousandth time Eddie wished he’d kept his temper on the building site then he’d still be on a cushy number sitting out the War, he’d still be close to his adorable little Gina and able to make love to his wife instead of settling for a cuddle, looking on a pregnancy with dread.

  Lily was up and about already, feeding her little granddaughter with a spoon at the table in the kitchen.

  “Isn’t she old enough to be doing that herself now?” Eddie asked, as he passed them by on his way to the bathroom. Lily made no comment. She bit back an angry retort. Instead she smiled sweetly at her son-in-law and asked him what he planned to do with his day.

  “I thought I’d have a look at the garden, see how that’s progressing. Check over the livestock see that they’re O.K. See if Gina wants a walk to see her Nana Dockerty, maybe have a few drinks at the Club.”

  Eddie set about his ablutions, then looked in the airing cupboard to see if there was any clean underwear. He found an old pair of underpants that had wedged themselves between the pipe work and a faded holey vest on a wooden coat hanger.

  “If you’re looking for anything you didn’t take with you, everything’s in the bedding box in the front bedroom. Irene had to make room in her wardrobe for my stuff when I moved in.”

  Bloody great, thought Eddie, now I’ve got to go searching for me civvies to wear, ’cos I’m not manking around in that sweaty uniform.

  Eddie stood at the top of a row of cabbages watching a pair of white butterflies fluttering about on the leaves. He filled his lungs deeply with the healthy fresh air and wished yet again that he hadn’t been so foolish. He could have spent his weekends helping with the digging, playing with Gina, holding Irene and loving her, instead of leaving her yet again in a few days time. He stabbed the hoe viciously into a lump of dry soil and swore at himself, what made him flare up the way that he did?

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw his little daughter. She was hiding behind the corner of the wash-house, but every few minutes she’d pop her curly head round again.

  “Peep po,” shouted Eddie encouragingly. A broad smile appeared on Gina’s face every time he said it.

  She edged out uncertainly until she was within two yards of an old gnarled apple tree nearby. Eddie got down on his haunches and grinned, then put out his arms to see if she would run to him, but he had to be content with another smile.

  “Are you going to show me those piggies, Gina? What are their names? Don’t they make a funny noise?”

  In answer his daughter ran across to the pig sty and stood on a boulder so that she could look over the wall, making little grunting noises in reply to the sow.

  “His name’s Sally and he’s got all these babies.”

  Eddie laughed. “No, Gina, the pig is a girl and she’s got all those babies. Have you given them all names yet?”

  His daughter shook her head and looked up at him trustingly.

  “Mummy said I had to wait until my daddy came home and then we could name them.”

  “Well, I am home now, Gina, I’m your daddy. I’ve been away training to fight the Germans, but I’m here until Saturday.”

  Gina got down from the boulder and put her arms up to Eddie for a carry. “That’s what Grandma said and she never tells me fibs.”

  Eddie and Gina sat at the kitchen table in his mother’s house a few hours later. Gladys had given the little girl a piece of bread to chew on, after she had poured her son a bowl of vegetable soup.

  “Here, you can dip that into your father’s soup, Gina, when it’s cooled a bit,” she said. “I won’t give her any for herself, because I’m sure her mother wouldn’t be pleased with me.”

  “You’re probably right,” answered Eddie distantly. “Mum, aren’t you curious about Alice’s lad at all?”

  “Why should I be Eddie? Though actually I have seen him. He was at your father’s funeral, sort of on the sidelines over by the trees.”

  “Did he look like any of us? Slim like Alice or a bit plump like some of the Dockertys?”

  “To be honest I didn’t get a good look at him. I couldn’t stand gawping in his and Alice’s direction
, though it was Terry and Mickey who pointed out that Alice was there. I’m not going to do anything about that letter you know, Eddie, and I don’t want you to either. Let her find out the hard way that her golden goose is dead.”

  “I might have a ride out to Queensferry and take a look around. I’ll take Gina and Irene on the train for a day out, pop into Chester on the way.”

  “Don’t you dare, Eddie, what would be the point of raking up the past just so that you can take a look at your half brother? I’ll be angry if you start stirring up a hornet’s nest. How do you think I’m feeling having to look at your father’s infidelity in the face?”

  “Yes I’m sorry Mum, I should be thinking of your feelings too. I’ll just finish my soup then I’ll take this one home. I fancy going up to the Club for a jar or two, ’cos some of my mates might be home on leave like me. Pity Terry’s still in the thick of it, it must be scorching out in Greece.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Back at camp, based on an estate where a vast amount of land surrounded a lovely old house, Eddie could only mourn for home. His dreams at night were of Irene and Gina, and he could only think of what a fool he had been. He began to write to Irene, finding that putting things on paper helped his troubled soul.

  One windy night, after he had been put on guard duty and had gone to relieve another soldier, he became aware of noises coming from the nearby wood. Being a country man he could identify the hoots and squeals from a hunting owl, the rustlings and snapping of twigs as nocturnal animals moved about in there, but that night everything felt eerie, perhaps from the whooshing of the waves from the sea nearby.

  Eddie put the collar of his greatcoat up and tried to stop the feeling of lethargy that was beginning to envelop him as the first fingers of dawn showed in the sky. His relief was about to come at any moment and he looked forward to his breakfast in the next half hour. He blinked his eyes as he saw a movement on the front lawn of the house he was guarding and challenged the person in a loud voice three times. With no response to his warning of “Halt, who goes there?” he cocked his rifle then fired.

  The camp came alive in an uproar of sound, as every soldier sprang to alert, dressed and ready for action in two minutes flat, but when the light of the day grew stronger and the reason for the shooting lay dead and bleeding on the lawn in front of them, Eddie became the subject of the soldiers’ scorn. Two large rabbits ended up in the pot and by way of consolation, the cook complimented him on being a first class marksman.

  There was not a lot going on at the camp while the company waited for their orders to go overseas. Eddie was often at a loose end and filled his time with reading, writing home and polishing his boots to a perfect shine. He was not given to spending his time in the local pub like so many of the men, as he was only a moderate drinker. He would go to the town if there was chance of a dance somewhere, but there were not many of these to go to, as they usually occurred at the local village hall.

  One evening as Eddie settled down in his hut to read another chapter of his ‘who dunnit?’, a soldier came to say that there was to be what they called a ‘bunfight’ organised by the local vicar and everyone was welcome there. The villagers would provide refreshments; lemonade, tea and buns filled with cheese or ham and a group would play for them all.

  This evening, however, the group hadn’t put in an appearance and the vicar, embarrassed, but not wanting the evening to be a flop, asked if anyone would fill the gap until they came. Eddie suddenly found himself on the stage, volunteered by his fellow soldiers, who knew he could tell a bit of a tale.

  Assuming an Irish accent, not difficult because his father had a bit of a brogue, he began by saying, “Me name’s Dockerty, so I’ll tell yer a couple of Irish jokes. Mick is driving his car past the bus stop and sees Paddy standing there. ‘Do yer want a lift?’ asks Mick. ‘Better not,’ said Paddy. ‘I’ll miss me bus.’

  An Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman were all sat on the top of a building about to eat their lunch. The Englishman opened his lunch box and found he had some cheese and onion sandwiches, so he said, ‘I’m fed up with cheese and onion sandwiches, if I get them again tomorrow, I’m going to jump off this building and kill myself.’

  The Scotsman opened his lunch box and seeing that he had cheese and onion sandwiches, which he’d had every day for the past week, vowed if he were to get cheese and onion sandwiches the next day, he would jump off the roof.

  The Irishman opened his lunch box and groaned when he saw that he had cheese and onion sandwiches too. ‘If I find that I’ve got cheese and onion sandwiches tomorrow, then I’ll jump off the roof and kill meself, so I will.’

  The next day the three men were sitting on top of the building and the Englishman, when he saw he had cheese and onion sandwiches again for his lunch, jumped off the roof and killed himself.

  The Scotsman checked his lunch box and seeing that he also had cheese and onion sandwiches for his lunch, jumped off the building and killed himself.

  The Irishman took a sandwich out of his lunch box, checked the filling and then jumped off the building and killed himself.

  Next day the police investigating their deaths went to speak to the wives of the workmen. The Englishman’s wife verified that she had made her husband cheese and onion sandwiches as she normally did. The Scotsman’s wife verified that she had made her husband cheese and onion sandwiches as she normally did.

  And the Irishman’s wife verified that the Irishman had made his cheese and onion sandwiches like he normally did.”

  Then Eddie finished off by doing a sand dance, made famous by Wilson, Keppel and Betty. It filled the gap and as he finished the missing players turned up.

  Next morning as he sauntered along the village street, Eddie found he had become something of a celebrity. A woman patted his arm and said how much she had enjoyed his impromptu act and an old lady invited him into her cottage for tea and scones!

  A few days later, Eddie and the rest of his group were sent up to the Scottish Borders to make up the numbers in a regiment there. He had trained with the Irish Fusiliers in Ireland, but he was sent to join the Royal Ulster Rifles and here he met up with regular soldiers, who were to be a great help to him in his army life.

  The new regiment was all under canvas when Eddie’s platoon arrived in the town of Hawick. Nissen huts were in the process of being erected, but with a shortage of tradesmen they were slow in building and bricklayers were in high demand. Eddie saw a notice pinned up outside the commanding officer’s quarters, asking for any skilled artisans to report to him that day. He was assigned to the building of the guardroom, and a row of Nissen huts. For the first time in his life, he found that his expertise as a brickie was at last standing him in good stead.

  It was at this time that Eddie got his first good pair of boots, courtesy of the Quarter Master of the regiment. He had rather small feet for his height of 5ft 8ins and in civvy street he could usually find a pair of shoes to fit him, but this was not the case in the army. Army boots brought tears to many a strong man’s eyes, as the blisters caused by marching over many miles in them left an indelible memory.

  Eddie was working for the Garrison Engineer during the day and not being used to army ways, he didn’t know what to do with his rifle. He had wrapped it up in a piece of cloth and placed it in his bed. It was found there when the beds were inspected and he was reported to the Company Sergeant Major and put on a charge, despite his protests. This stopped the work on the centre, essential in the eyes of the Quarter Master who was responsible for the furnishing and equipment for the place. He sent a man to hunt for the missing bricklayer, who was found doing guard duty by the main gate.

  Eddie found himself freed then from all duty except for building work and as it seemed that he was indispensable, asked the Q.M. for boots that properly fitted so that he could concentrate on his work. He was given free run of the store and chose the finest boots that the army could offer and nothing would part him from them throughout the dura
tion of the War.

  An unfortunate accident caused him to be sent to hospital a few weeks later. He and another soldier were carrying a heavy pallet between them when the other man slipped. The full weight of the load fell on Eddie’s foot, causing it to be badly injured and in need of an operation.

  The hospital was run on strict disciplinary lines and Eddie, on two occasions, fell foul of the Matron: once after a nurse had failed to make his bed and the Matron demanded to know the culprit and Eddie wouldn’t say.

  The second occasion brought consequences, when Eddie, confident that his foot was healing nicely, feet tapping to a catchy tune being played on the radio, waltzed around the ward with a nurse who should have been serving the lunches. He was sent back to camp with a barely healed foot, which got worse as he walked back along the country lanes, as no transport had been provided. The M.O., furious at the way Eddie had been treated, sent him back with a curt note for the Matron and he was operated on again without delay.

  Eddie was allowed leave a few weeks later, he was of no use to the army whilst he was limping around unable to carry out any duties. He caught the first train out of the local station and was back in his garden by the next day.

  It was Autumn again. The hedges were thick with blackberries that year and Irene made jelly with some of her precious sugar ration after she and Ted, with Gina and Lily picnicked and harvested in the Barnston Dales one day.

  Eddie made Gina a swing in the back garden and built another hen house, then invested in some white Leghorn pullets which flew about the run like a cloud of delicate fairies, so he put up extra high wire around the place to keep the little egg providers from escaping.

  He was busy that leave, though took to resting his foot as much as he could. He helped the elderly small-holder, Sam, who lived in a small, very old, whitewashed cottage at the top of the lane, travelling by the man’s horse and cart to the U.S. base at Arrowe to pick up some packing cases that the place had no more use for. They took Gina that day and her two little hands were filled with American candy bars by homesick men delighted to treat her, as English sweets were hard to come by.