Daughters of Courage

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Of course I don’t, but I do want him to do what he wants.’ He met his mother’s gaze for a moment as he said steadily and pointedly, ‘He’s a man now and I want him to make his own decisions.’ And the unspoken words lay between them – just as I should have done at his age. But Josh was not unkind. He would not rake up old sores and cast them at his mother. With the passage of time, he had come to understand that she had only wanted what she thought was the best for him. That city life and the work there had not been right for him was not her fault. Nor could she have possibly foreseen what disasters their life in Sheffield would bring. Out of it all, the one good thing was that Emily was making a huge success of her life there. He wondered how the coming war would affect her and Trip. And what would happen to him and the rest of his family? Would the hotel keep running as it did now? Though no doubt there would be an increase in the number of marriages taking place before the war started in earnest and young men were sent away, it was doubtful whether young couples would spend money on lavish receptions any more.

  Constance arrived later that day in a flurry of excitement. ‘Josh, I’ve been thinking . . .’

  Josh’s heart sank. ‘Yes, I thought the news would affect us – as a hotel, I mean as well as—’

  Though her head was full of plans, Constance was always sensitive to the feelings of others. ‘What is it, Josh? Come into my office. We can talk privately there.’

  As soon as the door closed behind them, Josh blurted out, ‘Harry’s volunteered for the RAF.’

  Constance stared at him for a moment and then said, ‘Good for him.’

  Josh blinked in the face of her congratulations; it was not what he had expected. As if sensing what he was feeling, she said softly, ‘I’m sorry, perhaps you don’t feel the same.’

  Josh shrugged. ‘To be honest, I’ve got very mixed feelings. I’m proud of him, of course, but he wants to become a pilot – a fighter pilot.’

  ‘Ah, then I understand your concerns, but he’d have to go anyway and probably soon. At least, this way, he’s volunteered for what he wants. What does Amy say?’

  ‘She shed a few tears, but she’s given him her blessing.’

  ‘She’s a wonderful young woman, your Amy.’

  ‘I know, but if anything happens to Harry . . .’

  ‘That rather brings me to what I’ve been thinking about. Josh, I want to turn this hotel into a convalescent home for the wounded. A lot of big houses did that in the last war and I want to do it this time round. I can’t think of a better place for them to recuperate than here in the Derbyshire dales, can you? It wouldn’t be for surgical or serious cases, just for their final recuperation.’

  ‘Isn’t it a little early to set up something like that? I mean, the war may be over quite quickly . . .’ His voice trailed away.

  ‘Sadly,’ Constance said softly, ‘I don’t think that will be the case, Josh, and I want to be ready.’

  Now he remained silent, wondering what his future would be if he was no longer required here as a hotel manager. But he said nothing; any such question would sound selfish.

  Constance smiled as she said softly, ‘All the staff will remain in place – if they’re willing to – but they might find that their duties are somewhat different. I shall be bringing in qualified nursing staff and I have one person in mind already. Lucy Henderson. She might have qualified as a State Enrolled Nurse by now and I can’t think of anyone better. Can you?’

  Mesmerized by the speed at which all this was happening, Josh shook his head.

  ‘And there’s another thing. The villagers must be prepared to take evacuees from the cities. From Sheffield, certainly, but probably from Liverpool and Manchester too. I’ll get Martha and Grace on to that.’

  Josh thought quickly. ‘Could – could we take Lewis and Nell’s boy, Simon?’

  ‘How old are they now? Remind me.’

  ‘Lewis was thirteen in May and Simon – let me think – he must be eight now. The thing is, if I know my sister and brother-in-law, they will be in the thick of whatever the war effort demands. They certainly won’t leave the city however bad it gets.’

  ‘I don’t see why not. Leave it with me.’

  Forty-Four

  Just after 11 a.m. on Sunday, 3 September, Trip, Emily, Constance and George gathered around the wireless set to listen to the declaration of war by Mr Chamberlain. Shortly afterwards the King spoke directly to his people.

  ‘So, that’s it, then,’ Trip said as he switched off the wireless and turned to face the solemn faces of his family.

  ‘Yes, that’s it,’ Constance said with new resolution in her tone. ‘And we’d better get on with it. I understand a lot of children left on Friday for the country, but we’ve been a little tardy. I have spoken to Josh about Ashford village taking evacuees and, of course, he has suggested that Lewis and Nell’s boy, Simon, should go there.’ She turned to Emily. ‘Has your mother said anything about Lewis going to them?’

  Emily shook her head. ‘We’ve not spoken much about the war, to be honest. I think the very mention of it holds bitter memories for her.’

  ‘If you’re happy to leave it with me, then I’ll arrange it all.’

  After Constance and George had left, Emily faced Trip with tears in her eyes. ‘Must he go, Trip?’

  Trip put his arms around her and held her close. ‘Emily, darling, sad to say, this is going to be a war like we’ve never known before. All the big cities are going to be targets, especially those that will be manufacturing armaments. Sheffield is going to be one such city.’

  Though her voice shook a little, Emily said defiantly, ‘Then we’d better be prepared.’

  Emily returned to the workshop in Rockingham Street late the following afternoon after a long and difficult day visiting customers. It was only natural that the talk was of nothing else but the war. And several were floundering in indecision; they hadn’t thought that it would really come to this and were totally unprepared. Lizzie and the others were working normally, just as if nothing had happened, but she found Ruth Nicholson hovering near the small office. Her face was white, her eyes terror-stricken.

  ‘Mrs Nicholson – whatever’s the matter?’

  ‘Billy’s volunteered.’

  ‘What?’ Emily was shocked. ‘No! Whatever has he done that for?’ Then as realization sank in, she said, ‘But – he can’t. I mean – he’s too old.’ A pause and then, a little uncertainly, ‘Isn’t he?’

  Ruth shrugged.

  ‘Trip was enquiring into the rules and regulations about himself,’ Emily went on. ‘But because he’s involved in engineering – and planning to turn his factory to manufacturing munitions anyway – he should be exempt.’

  ‘What about his employees?’

  ‘Once the factory’s turned over to munitions, they should be regarded as being in a reserved occupation too, surely.’

  Ruth bit her lip. ‘I really don’t know. But none of that matters. Billy’s volunteered and – and they’ve accepted him.’

  ‘But – but . . .’ Emily waved her hand in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Didn’t he think of you – of what you would feel? And Lizzie?’

  Bitterly, Ruth said, ‘Do men ever think of anyone except themselves and what they want to do? My husband and two sons went without even so much as a “what d’you think” to me. And, of course, they never came back. Killed on the first day of the Somme – all three of them. They’re buried out there somewhere. Side by side, a father and his two sons, so I’ve been told.’

  ‘Oh Ruth, haven’t you seen their graves?’

  Ruth pressed her lips together and shook her head. Shakily, she said, ‘I couldn’t afford to make the trip and besides, what good would it do? It won’t bring them back, will it?’

  Emily couldn’t think of an answer, but she felt for the woman. If it were Lewis buried out there – God forbid that would ever happen – she knew she would want to visit his grave, just to be near him for one last time. Lewis was far too youn
g but, she thought suddenly, and the realization threatened to overwhelm her, Harry wasn’t. She must go to Ashford at once. She must see Josh and they must stop Harry doing anything foolish. Perhaps they could stop him having to go at all. Trip would find him work in the factory and then . . .

  But she voiced none of this to Ruth. The woman had enough worries of her own.

  ‘Trip? Are you home?’

  Emily burst in through the back door.

  ‘Here,’ he called from the living room.

  ‘Billy’s volunteered,’ Emily said at once as she entered the room and sat down on the opposite side of the table. ‘Can you do anything? Can you apply for an exemption for him?’

  ‘You’d have to do that. He works for you, but I don’t think the authorities are going to look upon cutlery manufacturing as war work, though I could be wrong. People still have to eat.’

  ‘Can you give him a job at your factory?’

  ‘Nothing’s settled yet, Emily. There’s a lot of red tape to go through, though I must admit, now we’re actually at war, things are moving more quickly.’ He put his head on one side as he looked at her. ‘But I thought you said he’d volunteered?’

  ‘He has.’

  ‘Then I think it’s too late. He can’t back track now and besides, knowing Billy, I wouldn’t think he’d want to.’

  ‘But isn’t he too old?’ Emily was not prepared to give up just yet.

  Trip shook his head. ‘No, and neither am I. Parliament has passed an act that all males between eighteen and forty-one have to register for service. The medically unfit are exempt, of course, and certain jobs like mining, farming, shipbuilding and engineering will be classed as reserved occupations.’

  Emily sighed. ‘You can’t call Billy unfit by any stretch of the imagination and he’s not forty yet. So it looks as if there’s no way out. His mother’s distraught.’

  ‘I bet she is,’ Trip murmured sympathetically. ‘I don’t think he’d’ve been called up yet, but as he’s volunteered, there’s nothing we can do.’

  Emily jumped up. ‘Not about Billy, no. You’re right, but there is someone I can stop going: Harry. I’ll bring him to live with us and you can find him a job in your munitions factory. He won’t get called up then.’

  ‘But . . .’ Trip began, but Emily had whirled around and was already on her way out of the front door towards her little car standing on the road outside their house. As he heard the engine start, he knew she was setting off for Ashford at once.

  ‘Cold meat and pickles for my dinner tonight, then,’ he murmured, but it was said without rancour.

  He knew what a special place Harry occupied within the family. He was not only Josh and Amy’s firstborn, but also the first grandson for both Bob Clark and the Ryans. Whilst the children who had followed were all loved just as much, of course, the circumstances of Harry’s birth – being illegitimate at the outset – had brought Amy and her father even closer. And when the Ryans had moved back to Ashford, it had been the young’s boy’s influence on the war-damaged Walter that had aided his paternal grandfather’s partial recovery. Patiently, the little boy had read to him, had encouraged him to speak again and the terrible shaking that had afflicted Walter had gradually lessened until now, twenty years later, it was scarcely noticeable. Only when Walter got upset, did it begin again. Trip sighed. Walter was going to be very upset if his beloved grandson went to war.

  ‘Josh! Amy! Where are you?’ Emily opened the back door of the smithy, but there was no answer, not even a sound coming from Bob Clark’s anvil. It was obvious there was no one in the house, not even the children. She closed the door and went through the gap in the fence between the two cottages and glanced through the kitchen window. Inside, she could see her mother sitting at the table with Josh and Amy standing near her. Josh had his arm around Amy’s shoulders and she was leaning into him. Walter was sitting beside the fire with his head bowed. There was no sign of Bob Clark at either house. Feeling as if she was intruding, Emily knocked softly on the door. After a few moments Amy opened it and Emily could see at once that she had been crying. Emily’s heart seemed to leap in her chest. Had something happened to Amy’s father? Is that why the house next door was so silent and the family were all gathered here in The Candle House? Had he had an accident? Had he . . . ? For what seemed a long moment the two women stared at each other. Amy blinked as if she suddenly recognized who was standing there. ‘Emily. Sorry, do come in.’

  Emily stepped into the kitchen and glanced around her at each one of them in turn. They looked like stone statues. Her gaze came to rest on her brother’s face and there was a question in her eyes.

  He moved towards her and kissed her cheek. ‘Sorry, Em. We were just talking about Harry. He volunteered for the RAF at the beginning of the month – though he didn’t tell us until last week.’

  ‘Oh no! Then I’m too late.’

  He blinked and looked down at her, mystified. ‘I don’t understand. Too late? For what?’

  ‘To stop him going. To stop him being called up.’

  Josh frowned. ‘I don’t understand. How do you think you could do that?’

  Emily grasped his arms. ‘He can come and work for Trip in the city.’

  Josh shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t think working for Trip would count as a reserved occupation.’

  ‘Yes, it would. Trip’s turning his works into a small-arms factory. It would be – will be – classed as war effort.’

  ‘I see.’ Josh’s voice was flat and quite hopeless. Then he nodded. ‘But you’re right, you are too late. He wants to be a fighter pilot and he’s already left.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Emily breathed. ‘Not that.’

  The next thing that happened shocked Josh even more than the news that his son had volunteered. Emily began to cry. Emily rarely wept; Josh could count on the fingers of one hand the times he had seen his big sister shed tears. But now she pressed her face against his chest and clung to him. ‘Josh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s all our fault.’

  Josh put his arms around her and held her close.

  ‘Shush, there, there,’ he soothed, completely at a loss to understand. As her sobs subsided a little, he held her at arm’s length and looked down into her face. ‘Emily, what are you talking about? How can it possibly be your fault?’

  ‘We took him to the air show in Sheffield. We took him on a flight. It’s our fault he got so interested in aircraft and in flying.’

  ‘Oh Em!’ Again he hugged her close. ‘Don’t be silly. He was interested in aeroplanes from a little boy. Don’t you remember Amy’s dad – and our dad, if it comes to that – building model aircraft with him? You could hardly walk into his bedroom without banging your head on a Sopwith Camel or a Gipsy Moth dangling from the ceiling. It hasn’t got anything to do with you taking him flying.’

  Emily sniffed, a little comforted, but she still wasn’t convinced. It was one thing to build model aircraft as a child but quite another to be taken on a flight, to feel the thrill of flying.

  Josh forced a laugh and, trying to comfort his sister, he said, ‘If anyone’s to blame then it’s both his grandfathers. Our dad for building model aeroplanes with him and Amy’s dad for giving him the money to go to Southampton that time to see Amy Johnson’s plane. Now, come on, Amy will make you a cup of tea and we want to hear all about Trip’s grand ideas for his factory.’

  The mood in the room, though still sombre, lightened a little, but no one noticed Walter’s hands begin to shake.

  Forty-Five

  Evacuation of children and nursing mothers and their babies had begun on the first day of September, when war seemed inevitable. Two days after Mr Chamberlain’s solemn declaration that Britain was at war with Germany, Constance drove Lewis to Ashford to live with Martha and Walter.

  ‘We’ve enrolled you at the Lady Manners School in Bakewell but we’ve heard that the school is taking half the boys of a Manchester school,’ Martha told them. ‘So for the autumn term at least
and possibly longer, the local lads will only be doing half-time. But we’ll keep you occupied. You’re a big lad. You can help at the hotel in the gardens with Mr Clark.’

  In the days following the announcement there was a flurry of activity everywhere, none more so than in Emily’s and Trip’s lives. Missing their son, they threw themselves into work and making plans. They sent off numerous letters to various government departments detailing the ways in which they thought they could help the war effort and, at the same time, they kept all their workers fully informed of their actions. Constance, too, was very busy. She made an appointment with the matron of the Royal.

  Sitting down opposite the severe-looking woman, she outlined her plans for Riversdale Hotel adding, ‘I’m hoping to get the nurse who looked after my late husband in his final illness to run it, but she couldn’t be expected to be on duty round the clock. So I need someone I like and trust to help her. I have someone in mind, but I’m afraid it’s one of your nurses. Lucy Henderson.’

  The matron smiled and her whole demeanour changed in an instant. Her features softened and there was an impish twinkle in her eyes. No doubt the stern manner had been deliberately cultivated to strike fear into the heart of every young nurse. Constance was in no doubt that it did so. ‘Though still quite young, Mrs Bayes, she is one of my best nurses. I shall be sorry to lose her.’

  ‘Perhaps you won’t. I haven’t asked her yet if she’s willing to undertake the position. I needed to talk to you first. Is she capable of such work? I would need her to be in charge when Nurse Adams was off duty.’

  ‘If that’s all it’s to be – just a convalescent home – I think she would be. I will have to make sure with the authorities, of course. But, as yours will be a private concern anyway, I can’t see a problem.’

  ‘I would want to comply with any regulations, Matron.’

  ‘Of course, and I respect you for that. You wouldn’t be carrying out operations there nor would you be sent severe medical cases. It would just be the wounded in the last stages of recuperation, but it would be a very useful type of premises. Hospitals, I’m sorry to say, will soon be bursting at the seams. I was a young nurse in the last war and the sights I saw . . .’ She shook her head sadly.