Bia's War

by Joanna Larum

  “I wanted to hear what the pig butcher had to say before any action was taken against him and, when action was called for, it was going to be me who took that action, nobody else. When the scales were weighed on the Day of Judgement, they were going to dip because I was sitting on them with all my sins; no-one else was going to weigh them down.”

  “‘Doesn’t look like your beloved husband wants to tell anyone about his courage, does it?’ Dennison went on. ‘Have you told anyone the truth of what happened to you or are you quite happy to just let people think that you are a hero?’”

  “Dennison tugged on the red cord again and this time William’s head lolled over towards him. He still wouldn’t look up and he still wouldn’t speak at all, no matter how much the pig butcher taunted him. I was heartily sick of the man’s prevarication, because I wanted to understand exactly what had happened, before I could concentrate on killing the pig butcher.”

  “‘Is anyone going to tell me what all this is about?’ I asked. ‘If William doesn’t want to play your mind games, why don’t you just get on with it and spit out what you are so plainly desperate to reveal?’”

  “‘All right.’ Dennison said. ‘If he won’t tell you himself, then I’ll fill you in on the details. Let’s set the scene, so we all know what happened where and who did what to whom. I’m basing what I’m going to tell you on an eye witness account, which was given to me two nights ago when I popped into the Red Lion for a drink. In there, I met a young lad, a soldier, who was home on leave from the army. He’d had a very bad experience and, contrary to what the gossip tells us about the war, his commanding officer had recommended some home leave for him, to give him time to recover and rest before he went back to active duty. Davy, his name is, Davy Wilson. I’ve known the lad for a long time, because he used to play with my son Albert when they were both children. His mother lives in Redcar Road, not far from my shop and she brought him up well. He knows right from wrong and he wouldn’t ever deliberately hurt anyone’”

  “When Dennison mentioned the lad’s name, we all saw William clench his hand as it rested on the arm of the chair. It was obvious to us all that William recognised the name, but he still wouldn’t look up from his examination of the floor.”

  “‘Oh yes, he knows who I’m talking about.’ Dennison had also seen the involuntary movement and he was smiling that mirthless smile again as he looked at William.”

  “‘It’s very nice for you that you can have conversations with other drunkards in the pub, Dennison, but what has it got to do with William?’ Sam said. ‘Why don’t you spit it out, man, and then we can all go home?’”

  “Sammy’s patience was obviously running out, or he had some idea where this was all leading, because this was the first time he had spoken since we had forced our way into the warehouse. I glanced across at him and his face was pale and weary, as though he did know what was going to come next.”

  “‘Oh, I’ll spit it out all right.’ Dennison snarled. ‘You’re going to get every little detail of what happened that day, just in case our friend William here has forgotten some of it. When I’ve told you what happened, I’m going to kill William Drinkwater and the rest of you as well, so there’ll be no-one to tell tales about what happened here. Before I leave, I’ll set the warehouse on fire, so there won’t be any evidence left and I’ll get away with killing you all.’”

  “There was silence after Dennison stopped speaking. I think we were all so taken aback at the casual way in which he talked of committing multiple murder, that no-one could think of anything to say in reply. The pig butcher was the only one who was capable of speaking at that point in time, although I honestly believe he didn’t know that he had shocked us all that much. When he’d gathered his thoughts, he took up the story again.”

  “‘So. Davy Wilson was in the Red Lion the other night and because I’ve known him for years, when I’d got my pint, I went and sat with the lad and asked him how it was going, over there at the Front. He was staring across the room at a man who was standing at the bar and he wouldn’t take his eyes off him, even when he was answering my questions. It didn’t take me long to realise that he was staring at our very own William Drinkwater and, because I have an interest in Drinkwater’s wife, I asked him why he was staring at the weasel. So he told me why and that is the reason I want him dead.’”

  “‘When groups of men enlisted for the army when the war first started, those men tended to be kept together and served alongside men they had known all their lives.’ Dennison continued. ‘So my son, Albert, my only child, was in the same group of lads as Davy Wilson and dear old William Drinkwater. One early morning, before day had dawned, they were sent out into No Man’s Land to set traps and barbed wire for the enemy, should they ever take it into their heads to cross over No Man’s Land and attack the British trenches. It’s dangerous work, out there in No Man’s Land, because there are shell holes to fall into in the dark, unexploded ordinance to stumble across and set off and, worst of all, you’re a sitting duck for enemy snipers.’”

  “ ‘So, there they all were, digging holes to put wooden stakes into so that they could string barbed wire across them, when the coming of the dawn caught them a great distance from the comparative safety of their own trenches and they had to take shelter in a massive shell hole. It was possible that they were going to have to stay in it for the rest of the day and wait for darkness before they could work their way back to the English line. One of the lads had been wounded in the leg which Davy Wilson had bandaged up for him and they were all praying that he would be strong enough to move quickly on it when the time came. That day, the Hun decided that he was going to enjoy himself by staging a raid on the English front line, so, not long after they had reached the comparative safety of the crater, the guns began firing. Our English guns joined in, adding their noise and smoke to the general hell and our little band of soldiers hunkered down in their rat hole, praying that they would all survive the day and make it back to their own trenches. When it came to the bottom line, there was as good a chance that they would be killed by one of their own cannons as by a Hun cannon.’”

  “ ‘So, they were trapped in the shell hole and all around them the war went on, guns firing and shells landing and never knowing if the next one would have your number on it. The noise and the dirt and the smells were overwhelming and there was nothing that they could do about it.’”

  “I could almost hear the cacophony that Dennison was describing and I could definitely feel the fear those lads had experienced, or William’s fear of what Dennison was going to do or say next was so palpable that I was picking it up from him. Whatever the cause, fear was a tangible emotion in that warehouse and I could see Peter literally vibrating with the tension.”

  “‘There they were then,’ Dennison continued, unaware of the pressures at work in the room. ‘Davy and his mates, sitting in that shell crater in Flanders, waiting for the Bosche and the English to stop firing, so that they could crawl out of it and make their way back to their trenches. But the guns continued to fire, the big ones and the little ones, the cannons and the small arms, which meant that our little group of lads were all pinned down in that crater until the shelling stopped. Even when that happened, they would have to wait until it was dark, so that they could escape unseen by any snipers. The only early release would come if the fighting moved away from that frontline and, as the line hadn’t moved for months, none of the lads was counting on it happening that day. My lad, my Albert, was one of that little band of soldiers and he waited with the rest of them, flinching every time a shell landed or a bullet whistled past his ear. They were all nearly deafened by the noise, Davy said, and all worrying when a shell or a bullet would arrive that had their number on it.’

  “Dennison paused at that moment, whether because he was taking a breath or because he was living his son’s fear, I didn’t know. Before anyone else could speak, he began talking again.”

  “‘They didn’t post a look-out,
because if one of them had raised his head above the level of the top of the crater, it would have been seen and become a target for a sniper. They were all hunkered down on the bottom of the hole, trying to keep as flat as possible so that they weren’t used for target practise and they were all unaware that, for the first time in months, the situation was changing and the Hun had decided to mount a raid towards the Allied lines. Under cover of the smoke coming from both sets of guns, the Hun soldiers were crossing No Man’s Land and one of them reached the crater where our boys were sheltering. He managed to shoot two of the lads before the others realised that he was there, but Davy was quick-witted and managed to shoot back before the Hun got any more of them. The Hun soldier keeled over into the pit and one of the lads grabbed his rifle.’”

  “ ‘Two more of the enemy saw what had happened and they appeared over the lip of the crater, rifles at the ready, but our lads were now ready for them and Davy got the first one in the head. He was already shooting at the second one when he saw something that he would never have believed was possible. My Albert had his rifle ready and would have killed the second Hun soldier, but William Drinkwater, who was laid next to Albert at the bottom of the crater, put both his arms round Albert and rolled him over on top of himself. Albert had no idea that William Drinkwater was going to do that and so he rolled, unresisting, into Drinkwater’s arms. The Hun fired his rifle and the bullet hit my son in his back and killed him instantly. The second bullet fired by the Hun went through William Drinkwater’s arm and into my lad’s back. Davy then managed to pull himself together and he shot the enemy soldier. Our lads lay breathless at the bottom of the shell hole and waited to see if any more of the enemy would discover their hiding place, but they didn’t. The fighting moved away from the crater and Davy had time to yank Albert off Drinkwater’s prone figure, to see if he could save him. But my lad was dead, killed by two bullets in the back, as though he had been trying to run away, as though he was a coward, but he wasn’t. The only coward in that group was your beloved husband, who didn’t care who was killed as long as it wasn’t him.’”

  “‘The bullet in Drinkwater’s arm had shattered the bone, so one of the other lads roughly bandaged it because they didn’t want him to die before they could get him to a court martial. But he was lucky, was this lily-livered excuse for a soldier, and no-one believed Davy when he reported what had happened. The powers-that-be didn’t want to believe that one of their soldiers was a coward so they decided that he had suffered enough when he had to have his arm amputated, so they dismissed him and he came home a hero and now he lives in luxury, when my lad’s dead.’”

  “Dennison stopped speaking as he immersed himself in grieving for his lost son and, even though he had just murdered my son, I could feel for him. I now knew what it was like to lose your only son, but the last thing I would have done would have been to murder somebody else’s child, so my empathy only went so far. Sam, it seemed, was all out of empathy, sympathy or forgiveness that night, because he turned on William and demanded answers.”

  “‘Is all that true? He asked. ‘Did you use that lad as a shield to save yourself?’ Sammy’s voice was incredibly high-pitched, as though he couldn’t believe the depths to which William had sunk and, for the first time that night, William reacted.”

  “‘No I didn’t!’ William cried. ‘He fell on top of me when the Hun soldier shot him and his body stopped the bullets that were meant for me! I’m not a coward!’”

  “Dennison was on his feet immediately, yanking at the twine fastened round William’s neck so strongly that the chair legs lifted with the force and William and the chair fell over sideways onto the floor. His head hit the ground with a bang that reverberated right through the building and William’s whining voice stopped instantly.”

  “‘Don’t lie now, you yellow-bellied bastard!’ The pig butcher screamed. ‘You’re going to meet your Maker in the next few minutes, at least go with a clear conscience! Davy Wilson told me exactly what you did. My lad didn’t fall on top of you, you pulled him! Those were Davy’s exact words – you wrapped your arms round my Albert and pulled him over onto you to shield you. Davy looked at you as you did it and he saw the guile and the cunning in your face. You knew exactly what you were doing. You were quick-thinking enough to use my son to save your own miserable life and now you think you can lie about it!’”

  “By the time he got to the end of this speech, Dennison was breathless with rage and the rest of us were stunned by the revelations. William stayed where he was on the floor, either because the fall had stunned him or because he was frightened that if he attempted to raise himself up then the butcher would finish the job he had started. His eyes, however, were darting this way and that, as though he was looking for a means of escape. It was the most surreal moment of my life, standing in that dimly-lit warehouse, with my son dead on the floor and his murderer ready to wreak his vengeance on my husband for what my husband had done to his son. I felt as though I was in the middle of a nightmare, a nightmare that was so unreal it wasn’t possible and yet I was living through it.”

  Nana Lymer paused in her tale and glanced across at Victoria to see how she was coping with learning these terrible things about her grandmother’s earlier life. But Victoria was drinking it all in. There was no trace of revulsion or disgust on her face at what had happened. Her whole face was suffused with pity for her grandmother and, as Nana Lymer paused for breath, Victoria reached out and took hold of the tiny hand which was clenched on the counterpane.

  “What a dreadful time you had, Nana.” Victoria whispered. “Having your baby killed by that butcher and then learning what a miserable coward your husband was. I don’t know how you could recover from that. And being threatened by him as well. He obviously didn’t murder anyone else because you and Granddad Sam both lived long after that night, so how did you overpower him? Did you get to your knife and stab him? But, if you did, you would have been arrested for murder yourself. What happened?”

  “I think we’ll have to go into that after Mr Vine’s been this afternoon. It must be nearly lunchtime by now and we need you on duty at the side door to let Mr Vine in after lunch.” Nana smiled.

  “Goodness! Is it that time?” Victoria screeched. “I’m supposed to be starting lunch for Mam! I’ll never hear the end of it if I haven’t got it done when she comes through into the kitchen from the shop. I’ll be back when I bring your lunch and then I’ll listen out for Mr Vine this afternoon.”

  “You are a good girl, Victoria.” Nana Lymer said, cupping her palm round the side of Victoria’s face. “Don’t let your mother get you down. You are going to have a wonderful life, just you wait and see. Now, off you go because this afternoon is going to be very important.”

  Victoria managed to get downstairs into the kitchen and get the lunch made before her parents came through into the kitchen when they had closed the shop. Everything was going to plan so far. Her mother made no demur when Victoria said she was going back to ‘revise’ in Nana’s bedroom straight after lunch, which meant that they would have time for some more of the story before Victoria took up her position on the first landing, ready to nip down the last few stairs and open the side door for Mr Vine when he knocked. The only problem was that Victoria now felt guilty that she was keeping a secret from her parents, although she didn’t understand why Mr Vine’s visit had to be so secretive. She just hoped that she wasn’t going to get into trouble with her mother for not telling her what she had done when she had made the appointment for that afternoon. Each time she got to this point in her musings, her analytical brain asked why her grandmother shouldn’t see her solicitor and she couldn’t provide a logical answer. She was fully aware, however, that if her mother ever found out, there was going to be one hell of a row about it and she wasn’t looking forward to that possible outcome.

  After a quick lunch and as soon as her parents were back in the shop, Victoria shot back up the stairs to Nana’s bedroom.

  “It’
s just before 1 o’clock, Nana.” She gasped out as she collapsed into her chair. “Mr Vine isn’t coming until 2pm, so we’ve got time for some more of the story before I have to go and wait on the landing for him to come. Do you think you’re up to telling me some more?”

  “Of course I’m ‘up to it’, Victoria” Nana answered. “You don’t realise how much good this is doing me. I feel as though I am getting things into perspective for the first time in years, because I’ve never had the opportunity to mull it over before. Granddad didn’t want to discuss it after it happened and it became a subject that we all avoided, I think to my cost. It’s been getting me down for the last few years and I feel so much relief now it’s coming out into the open. It’s been like a canker in my heart since it happened and I now feel that I am cutting it all away. Let’s get on with it!”

  Chapter Twelve

  “We were all standing there in silence after Dennison had told us what William had done in the shell crater.” Nana Lymer began, when Victoria was settled comfortably in her chair. “I don’t think any of us actually believed it at first, but William wasn’t a good liar and when he denied it, his words didn’t ring true for any of us so we had to accept it. But I still didn’t understand why Simon had to die. His death wasn’t going to bring Albert back for the pig butcher. He was only a child. He should have had a long, healthy and happy life in front of him; he shouldn’t have died at his age, murdered in cold blood.”