Daughters of Courage

by Margaret Dickinson

  Forty-Two

  In November the citizens were intrigued by the appointment of Sheffield’s first woman Lord Mayor.

  ‘Do you realize,’ Trip laughed, ‘that she is likely to be the first woman ever to attend a Cutlers’ Feast? I think you should get into local politics, Emily. You’d make a wonderful Lord Mayor and wouldn’t I love to see you in pride of place at the Feast?’

  Emily punched him playfully. ‘I’m far too busy to get involved in all that and, besides, I’m holding my place quite nicely in a man’s world, thank you.’

  ‘Indeed, you are,’ Trip said proudly, and kissed her forehead.

  But during the final month of the year, the whole nation was shocked to read in their newspapers that their popular king was abdicating to marry the woman he loved, a twice-divorced American. The love affair had been common knowledge overseas, but the British press had suppressed the story.

  ‘I’m backing the new king and his family,’ Trip declared stoutly. ‘He has two lovely little girls and the eldest is now heir to the throne.’

  ‘That’ll be interesting. A woman on the throne.’

  ‘Some of our greatest monarchs have been women – Elizabeth and Victoria, for instance – but let’s hope it won’t be for many years. She has to grow up first. By the way, do you want to go to London to see the Coronation next May?’

  Emily’s eyes lit up. ‘Could we?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. We could see if Mother and George would like to go. And it would be good for Lewis to be present at a bit of history. And it’ll be a special birthday present for him.’

  On Lewis’s eleventh birthday, they motored to London in the Rolls Royce and stayed at a hotel.

  ‘This will be my treat,’ Constance declared, ‘though you will have to drive us there, Thomas. I really can’t tackle London traffic. I’ve only just mastered driving in Sheffield. Besides, I can watch how a London hotel works.’ She smiled broadly. ‘I might pick up some tips.’

  ‘I’ve never seen so many people,’ Lewis said, as they weaved their way through the crowds the following morning. The day was cloudy but the rain seemed to be holding off. ‘Is the whole country here?’

  Trip laughed. ‘Not quite, but I expect there are a lot of people who’ve come here especially. It’s a great moment.’

  ‘There will be a lot of people come from abroad too, just to say they were here,’ Constance said, holding firmly on to Lewis’s hand. She thought the boy might object to having his hand held at his age, but he seemed rather overawed by the crowds and clung to her gratefully.

  ‘We want to find a spot in Trafalgar Square, if we can. The procession is sure to pass through there,’ Trip said.

  Just after ten-thirty, a murmur went through the crowd. ‘They’ve left Buckingham Palace. They’re on the way.’

  It wasn’t long before they heard the ripple of cheering getting closer and closer. A long procession preceded the royal couple, contingents from all parts of the Empire, massed bands and marching soldiers, sailors and airmen, prime ministers and dignitaries, members of the royal family and then, towards the end of the long procession, they saw it: the golden coach pulled by eight Windsor greys and flanked by grooms and Yeomen of the Guard walking on either side.

  ‘Look at his beautiful robes,’ Emily gasped. ‘Ruby-red and white ermine. What a magnificent spectacle. I’m so glad we came, Trip. We’ll remember the twelfth of May 1937 for ever.’

  They waited until the procession returned after the ceremony and saw the King looking very solemn with the heavy crown on his head.

  ‘D’you think we can get to Buckingham Palace? They say the family might come out onto the balcony,’ Emily said.

  ‘We can try,’ Trip said. ‘Come on. Stay close.’

  They couldn’t get to the railings, but in the far distance they were able to see the tiny figures on the palace balcony.

  ‘It’s been a wonderful day,’ Emily said later, and Constance agreed, ‘And now we’ll have one more night in the hotel and then home tomorrow.’

  Not long after the excitement and pageantry of the coronation, the cloud of war hung over the country once more.

  ‘Now, we’ve got Japan and China at war. You wouldn’t believe it, would you? And Hitler and Mussolini are far too pally for my liking,’ Trip remarked. ‘Hitler’s always bleating about needing “living space” for Germany. That can only mean one thing, can’t it?’

  ‘What – exactly?’ Emily asked.

  ‘He’s going to overrun other countries to get it, isn’t he?’

  ‘But I thought they were both saying they want peace? Do they think they can just march into countries with no resistance?’

  ‘He did with the Rhineland. They cheered him, didn’t they?’

  ‘Maybe so, but I can’t see anyone else doing the same.’

  But Trip was wrong. In March 1938, Hitler marched into Austria, to the sound of the church bells ringing in welcome.

  ‘They’re an independent nation.’ Trip was mystified. ‘Why on earth would they want to become just another part of Germany?’

  ‘I really haven’t the faintest idea, Trip,’ Emily said. ‘But I’ll tell you one thing, he won’t just march into Britain like that.’

  ‘He might try,’ Trip said gloomily.

  Life carried on as normal on the surface, but beneath the ordinariness of everyday life there was a growing fear. Various peace-keeping deals were made, but many mistrusted their validity and Trip was one of the doubters. ‘These agreements aren’t worth the paper they’re written on,’ he fumed. ‘If anyone thinks either Hitler or Mussolini will keep their word, they’re mad.’

  And then, in Trip’s mind, came the greatest betrayal of all. After an agreement between the French and the British in April to defend Czechoslovakia, in September it was agreed to hand over the Sudetenland to Germany and the British Prime Minister flew home waving a piece of paper, which bore Hitler’s signature and which he declared promised ‘peace for our time’.

  On 5 October, Hitler walked into the Sudetenland, strangely hailed by the people as their liberator.

  ‘That does it. There’ll be war without a shadow of a doubt,’ was Trip’s view.

  Forty-Three

  Christmas 1938 was a strange one. Everyone tried to make merry as normal, but the threat of war hung over the whole country. Most tried not to believe it and to put faith in Mr Chamberlain’s statement. Martha adamantly refused to speak of it.

  ‘If you’re going to talk about all that foolishness starting again, then I won’t join you at Christmas lunch, even though I’m going to be helping to cook it at the hotel for all of us and the guests.’

  Emily, understanding how her mother must feel, put her arm around her shoulders. ‘Then we’ll ban all talk of the impending war at the table, Mam.’

  ‘What do you mean “the impending war”?’ Martha said sharply. ‘You talk as if it’s going to happen.’

  Emily sighed. ‘Trip thinks it is.’

  ‘He would, wouldn’t he? If we have a war, he’ll make a killing manufacturing armaments.’

  ‘Mam!’ Emily was shocked. ‘Is that what you think of Trip? That it’s all about money?’

  Martha shrugged. ‘It’s what his father would have done.’

  ‘Trip’s not his father,’ Emily snapped. ‘And well you know it.’

  Martha laughed wryly. ‘Then more fool him because –’ and her mother’s next words startled Emily – ‘it’s exactly what I would do in his place.’

  The prospect of war was not mentioned, but there was an atmosphere of everyone trying studiously to avoid the subject, even though it was uppermost in their minds.

  ‘Phew!’ Trip muttered, as they drove home on Boxing Day morning, neither of them wanting to stay any longer. ‘That was hard. I think I’ve actually bitten the end of my tongue off trying to steer clear of war talk.’

  ‘Did you get a chance to speak to Harry?’

  Trip shook his head. ‘Not on his own, no, a
nd I didn’t like to broach the subject in front of his parents either. I suspect it’s a touchy subject with them too. But he’s always said he wants to go into the RAF. I can’t imagine he’s changed his mind, can you?’

  Emily said nothing; there was nothing she could say, because she was uncomfortably aware that what Trip said was true.

  The New Year brought no hope of lasting peace. In fact, when, at the end of February, the British Government decided to recognize General Franco’s regime in Spain, it caused furious scenes in the House of Commons. And as Hitler entered Prague in March, the British Prime Minister pledged whole-heartedly to defend Poland against attack. Even he, it seemed, no longer had any faith in Hitler’s signature on the famous piece of paper.

  In May, Italy and Germany signed a military and political alliance and British farmers were being advised to increase food production as the threat of war came closer and closer.

  Harry had stayed on at school into the sixth form, believing that his application to join the RAF would be helped by his Higher School Certificate. Early in July 1939, when his examinations had finished, he visited Emily and Trip in Sheffield.

  ‘D’you think’, he asked Emily hesitantly, ‘Lucy would like to go to the theatre with me?’

  Emily hid her smile. Harry was such a handsome and kindly young man, but he seemed to lack self-confidence where girls were concerned. ‘I don’t see why not. What makes you ask me?’

  ‘I just wondered if she already had a boyfriend.’

  ‘Not that I know of. Nell’s never said anything.’

  ‘She might think I’m too young for her.’

  ‘Nonsense. Age has nothing to do with it. You’re a young man now. Go and ask her, Harry. She can only say “no”.’

  Harry laughed. ‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’

  But Lucy didn’t say ‘no’ and she even suggested where they might go. ‘The Palace Theatre in Attercliffe is opening a new theatre bar on Monday,’ Lucy told him. ‘I’d love to go.’

  ‘Then we will. What’s playing?’

  ‘The Crimes of Burke and Hare,’ Lucy chuckled. ‘You can hold my hand if I get frightened.’

  They had a wonderful evening and did indeed hold hands, but only as they walked home in the dark.

  ‘Lucy, I want to tell you something, but please keep it secret for the moment, won’t you? I’m applying to join the RAF.’

  ‘Not waiting for call-up?’

  ‘No, because if I wait, I risk getting sent just anywhere. If I join now, I think I might have some choice.’

  ‘You’ll probably be recommended for a commission now you’ve got your Higher.’

  ‘I haven’t got it yet,’ Harry said.

  ‘No, but you will have.’ Her faith in him touched Harry.

  They walked along in silence until Lucy said, very softly, ‘You will take care, Harry, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course I will. And will you – would you –’ he hardly dared to ask the question – ‘write to me?’

  Lucy echoed his answer. ‘Of course I will.’

  Of all the agreements and alliances that were being made, the one that shocked the Western world was the Non-Aggression Pact between Germany and Russia signed in August. War was now thought to be inevitable.

  ‘So, you really think there’s going to be a war?’ Emily asked Trip. Now he was not the only one to predict conflict. Ever since the Czech crisis, Sheffield had begun serious preparations. Gas masks had been distributed and anti-aircraft guns and searchlights had been installed around the city. Even a small supply of Anderson shelters had been built. ‘If there is a war, what are we going to do?’ Emily asked Trip. ‘With the businesses, I mean?’

  ‘Richard and I have talked about it and, if it does happen, we think we’ll change the works into a munitions factory. In fact, I’ve already written to the authorities. It’s time we all started to plan for war and I’m not just being pessimistic. I’ve seen this coming for a long time, Emily.’

  ‘I know you have.’ Emily felt a little guilty about all the times she’d listened to Trip reading out the depressing news and had thought he was obsessed by the prospect of war. But now, she could see that he had been right all along. ‘What do you think I should do with my buffing workshops?’

  ‘A lot of your girls might go into munitions for the duration of the war. The pay will be much better for them. But you might find,’ Trip went on, ‘that there will be a demand for inexpensive cutlery to supply the forces. How about you make some enquiries?’

  Emily was thoughtful. ‘I wonder if I could design a range of cutlery and submit samples to the War Office, or whoever’s responsible for that sort of thing?’

  ‘Good idea and, if it comes about, maybe you could strike up a deal with several of the little mesters to supply you. I suggest the older men, who aren’t likely to be called up. That way you could still keep your buffing workshops going and,’ he added pointedly, ‘you’d be helping the war effort too.’

  ‘That’s very good thinking.’ She smiled. ‘You know me so well, don’t you? You know I’d want to feel I was “doing my bit”.’ Then her face clouded. ‘Trip, I know Lewis is too young, but you won’t be called up, will you?’

  ‘I doubt it. I’m forty next year.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that.’

  ‘I do intend to offer my services for local defence in some form, though.’ Trip moved across the room and put his arms around her. ‘But you know who will be called up, don’t you?’

  Emily laid her cheek against his chest, her voice a muffled whisper. ‘Yes. Harry’s eighteen now. He’ll go. There’s no doubt about that. Sooner or later, he’ll have to go.’

  ‘Mam – Dad – I’ve volunteered for the RAF and I’ve been accepted. I’m going tomorrow.’

  On a hot day in late August, Harry faced his shocked parents. Josh stared at his son, whilst Amy gave a little cry and pressed her hand over her mouth.

  Harry rushed on, knowing how much he was hurting them. ‘It’s something I had to do. Please try to understand.’

  Amy sank down into a chair whilst, beside the fire, her father stared into the flames in the grate, not speaking. So, he was thinking, the forebodings in the recent press had been justified. They – the powers that governed their country – were going to let it all happen again. Hadn’t they learned the last time the horror war could bring? Weren’t millions of dead on all sides of that conflict enough to show all those in a position of power the futility of such carnage? Some of the papers were saying that the last war had never really ended, that there had only been a twenty-year truce and that now it must be resolved once and for all. But why did it have to involve his beloved grandson Harry? And wasn’t the sight of his other grandfather, Walter Ryan, so cruelly maimed by the last war, enough to deter him? The boy was so special to Bob Clark. When Josh had gone away, ignorant of the fact that he had left Amy pregnant, it had been her father and the good people of Ashford who had rallied round the girl and cared for her. When Josh had returned eighteen months or so later and had learned the truth, he had become a man overnight. He had stood up to his mother and returned to the village to marry Amy. Since then, there had been two more children and whilst Bob would never admit to having a favourite amongst his grandchildren, he could not deny that Harry was very special. Bob continued to stare into the fire as he strove to hide the tears that welled in his eyes.

  ‘To be honest, son, I’ve been surprised you didn’t go the minute you were eighteen.’ Josh smiled thinly. ‘I was expecting it.’

  ‘I considered it, but I wanted to finish my education first. I appreciated you encouraging me to stay on at school but I didn’t want to wait for call-up when I could be sent into any of the services. I’ve always wanted to go into the RAF to train as a fighter pilot – if I’m good enough.’ Harry faced them, his firm chin set in determination, his blue eyes sparkling with ill-concealed excitement.

  Josh ran his fingers distractedly through his hair. It was as if he were bei
ng catapulted back through time and he was a young boy again listening to the very same argument coming from his own father’s lips at the outbreak of the Great War. ‘I have to do this, Martha,’ Walter had said, ‘I don’t want to be called a coward.’

  ‘I do see, son. Really I do – and I understand, but . . .’ Josh gestured helplessly towards Amy sitting huddled in the chair weeping quietly into her handkerchief. Harry knelt in front of his mother, looking up into her face. For several minutes, they stared at each other, saying nothing. The moment was too deep for words, but at last Amy put out a trembling hand and stroked her son’s curly hair. ‘You must promise me,’ she said shakily, ‘that you will write every week.’

  ‘I will, Mam, I give you my word.’

  ‘Then,’ she whispered, ‘you go with my blessing and my prayers.’

  Beside them, Bob bowed his head and covered his face with his hand.

  Later, when Josh arrived at the hotel, Martha, on duty that day in the kitchen, asked, ‘What is it, son? There’s something wrong. I can see it in your face.’

  There was no point in trying to keep the news from her; she would find out soon enough and he’d already asked Harry to go next door and break the news to Walter.

  ‘Be gentle with him, Harry,’ he’d warned. ‘It’ll be hard for him to accept.’

  ‘I will, Dad.’ Though he was determined to follow his dream and become a pilot, Harry was a thoughtful young man and sensitive to the feelings of others, especially those whom he loved dearly.

  But it had fallen to Josh to break the news to Martha. ‘It’s Harry. He’s joined up.’

  ‘Joined up?’ Martha repeated. ‘Volunteered, you mean? Going before he has to?’

  Josh nodded, unable to speak.

  ‘What’s he want to go and do that for?’ She gave an impatient ‘tut’. ‘Just like your fool of a father last time. I’ll talk to him. I’ll make him see sense.’

  ‘It’s done now, Mam. He’s signed up for the RAF. There’s nothing any of us can do, even if we wanted to.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Martha snapped, her voice rising. She paused a moment before adding incredulously, ‘You don’t mean – you can’t mean – that you want him to go?’