Bia's War

by Joanna Larum

  “It wasn’t long before the pavement underneath the docks’ railings was filled with bodies, all carefully concealed in the blankets which had been brought from the cottage hospital on Harcourt Road and the crowd waiting at the dock gates was reducing in size. Those of us who were left gathered closer together, as though for warmth, but in reality what we wanted was the comfort of the presence of others in the same boat as us. The night was nearly over and the dawn light was just starting to brighten the skyline over the sea when a policeman carried out from the docks a small shape wrapped in a blanket. The policeman placed this tiny parcel down on the pavement at the end of the line of bodies and then straightened up slowly as though this latest task was more than he could bear.”

  “In the wash of light from the dawn sky, I recognised him as a boy I had been at school with, by the name of Evans. He was looking for a relative to match the small body he had been carrying and, when his eyes met mine and he started to walk towards me, I grabbed Sam’s hand and squeezed as though my life depended on it.”

  “‘Mrs Drinkwater?’ he asked, as though we hadn’t known each other nearly all our lives. ‘I’m afraid it’s bad news that I’ve got for you.’”

  “That was all he needed to say. Even though I, unlike the rest of the hopeful people gathered there that night, already knew that my family were dead, it was as though his words sent a signal to my brain and shut down the use of my limbs. My legs gave way beneath me and I sank into the melted snow and the ash of the road and rested my face in my hands. Breathing was difficult, but I couldn’t stop sobbing to try and take a breath properly. I could only moan Simon’s name and wish that the ground would open up and swallow me whole.”

  “Despite my sobs, I clearly heard Ted Evans telling Sam that William had been found with Simon and that there were two more bodies in what remained of the warehouse.”

  “‘It looks like the warehouse took a direct hit, like, ‘cos nothing is recognisable in what’s left of the place. There’s another two bodies in there, as well as Mr Drinkwater’s. I don’t suppose you might know who they are?’”

  “I heard Sam saying that Peter was missing from home, but he had no idea who the other body might belong to and I marvelled that he was cool enough to be able to say all this and sound believable. Perhaps I had done the right thing by collapsing, because I didn’t think I could have answered those questions so well. Ted’s next words made me draw in the deepest breath I had breathed in a long time.”

  “‘The other body might belong to Butcher Dennison. He was seen earlier in the evening with Mr Drinkwater and the little boy. The butcher had heard noises coming from the Drinkwater’s warehouse and thought that there may be a burglar inside. He and Mr Drinkwater went off to try and catch him, evidently, so they would all have been inside when the bombardment started. One of the regulars in the Red Lion had heard them talking about it.’”

  “ ‘Aye, we heard that tale, so Peter went off to bring Simon home, it being such bad weather and so late.’ Sam agreed. ‘It must be fate that brought them all together in that place and at that time, but it’s a very cruel fate.’”

  “Ted Evans muttered his agreement and then turned back to the job in hand, after telling Sam to ‘get that poor lass home’. We could finally leave the docks and make our way back to the shop, for the umpteenth time that night. Hands lifted me to my feet and many people patted me in condolence or hugged me and then released me to go on my way. I managed to utter some faint ‘thank you’s’ and then we were on our way home.”

  “I sobbed every step of the way home. I wasn’t acting for the benefit of any who may have been watching me. I wasn’t pretending that the news of the deaths of my husband and son had come as a great shock to me. It was because I couldn’t help it. It was almost as though I had only just found out about their deaths. I had realised that I would never see or hold Simon again; that he would never grow up into a man and have a family of his own and I was totally bereft because of this realisation.”

  “Not once on that walk home did I think about William. I had shut him out of my mind completely, because the whole damnable business was his fault. If he hadn’t gone off to war to stroke his own ego; if he hadn’t shielded himself behind Dennison’s son so that the boy died; if Dennison hadn’t found out about his cowardice and taken his revenge; if William hadn’t been so stupid as to believe the pig butcher when he had said that there was a burglar in the warehouse and so took my son to his death; it all went back to William. I couldn’t think about him without wanting to scream my hatred of him to the skies. IT WAS ALL WILLIAM’S FAULT! So I shut him completely out of my mind, otherwise I would have betrayed Peter and Sam. It was the only way that I could cope that night.”

  “So, slowly we made our way back to Queen Street, through the quiet, freezing streets, even more cold now that there was such a contrast between them and the heat of the dockside and we let ourselves in through the side door of the shop.”

  “Annie was sitting out a vigil next to the fire in the range. She had been crying for Peter while we had been at the dock, that much was obvious from her haggard face as she looked up as we entered. But she busied herself making hot drinks for us, brushing aside any suggestion that she should go to bed.”

  “‘I’d not sleep,’ she declared. ‘There’s no point in my trying to sleep because my mind is so full of what Peter did tonight. I keep remembering things that happened to him when he was a child and I’ve thanked God a hundred times tonight, at least, that He brought us together. I know that this is the best outcome I could have hoped for, but I will miss him for the rest of my life.’” And she put her face in her hands and wept again for the son she had lost.”

  “I gave her what comfort I could, but I was also thinking back over the few short years Simon and I had had together. I wasn’t as Christian in my attitude as Annie was and I always came back to the same conclusion: that it had all been William’s fault. His actions had affected so many lives and never once in a good way. Everything that he had done had had repercussions throughout our household and throughout our town and yet he had never once given any thought to any other person other than himself. What sort of an obituary was that for any human being? I knew that if I continued to probe into these thoughts I would send myself mad, but that first night I couldn’t help poking at the nagging toothache with my tongue. Over the years since then I have managed to regain my perspective on those events, but I have still always come to the same conclusion. The whole thing was William’s fault and if there is any justice in the afterlife he will still be paying for his sins.”

  Mrs Lymer’s face had hardened as she talked about that night and Victoria realised that she was still affected by what had happened. Could any mother ever forgive the person who caused her child’s death or did the parents of murdered children carry that depth of hatred with them until they too died? She took hold of Nana’s hand and stroked it for her, not speaking but hoping to convey her sympathy by touch. Nana was staring into space, not aware of where she was or what Victoria was doing. It was with a great effort that she brought herself back to the present and smiled at her granddaughter.

  “Would you make me a cup of tea, please?” she asked. “Telling stories makes me very thirsty, you know. It’s a good thing that I wasn’t employed to tell stories, I’d have drunk the river dry every day!”

  “It’s lunchtime.” Victoria answered. “Will you have a chicken sandwich or perhaps a cheese and tomato one?”

  “I’m not hungry, pet, thank you.” Nana said. “I’d just like a cup of tea and then we can finish my story. We’ll be done before teatime and then I’ll have a good long rest.”

  “Ok.” Victoria acquiesced, not wanting to quarrel with her grandmother, who was still looking very frail.

  In the kitchen, Victoria prepared lunch for her parents and then put Nana’s cup of tea and a shortbread biscuit on a tray, ready to carry them upstairs.

  “Still listening to her stories, then?” Her m
other growled as she took her place at the table to eat her lunch. Victoria’s head was so full of the bombardment of the docks and of the deaths of Simon and Peter that she hardly heard what her mother said. She nodded vaguely in her direction and then left the kitchen, so intent on getting back upstairs for the last part of the story that she didn’t hear her mother’s comment as she left the room, but was vaguely aware that her father had spoken as well.

  “Leave the lass alone, Bia.” Her father said. “She’s caring for her grandmother and that’s a good thing. There’s not many her age would have the kindness and patience that she’s got.”

  Bia merely grunted into her teacup, not bothering to waste her energy on an argument that wouldn’t give her any satisfaction, but she resolved to ask her mother what she had wanted to see Mr Vine for, she was unlikely to get any information from her daughter.

  In Nana Lymer’s bedroom, Victoria had to help her grandmother to lift the cup to her lips. She seemed to be rapidly running out of energy and strength and Victoria wanted to call the doctor, although Nana Lymer refused her offer.

  “I’ll do, lass. There’s nothing wrong with me that a good night’s sleep won’t cure. Leave doctors for folk that need them. I don’t. Let me finish the story and then I’ll sleep better than I’ve done for years.”

  There was nothing that Victoria could say that would make her change her mind so, in the end, she capitulated and resumed her seat next to the bed.

  “Sam, Annie and I didn’t go to bed that night. The girls were all snuggled in together in Hannah’s room, so we left them alone, not wanting to spoil their sleep with bad news. We three spent what little of the night that remained, sitting in the kitchen next to the range and going over all that had happened. It didn’t make any difference to the outcome, but we all felt the need to reiterate certain points and quiz the other two about certain events, as though talking about it would make it easier to bear. It didn’t, but we each attempted it.”

  “Sam went off to work and Annie and I opened the shop as usual. It was an unspoken agreement between us to open the shop, but I think it was the best thing we could have done. We would eventually have to face our customers and our neighbours and it was sensible to do it as soon as possible, before any of us got cold feet. We were prepared for the curiosity that would inevitably be part of meeting any neighbour or customer, but I wasn’t prepared for the kindness and empathy shown us by all who came into the shop that day and for months afterwards. Some people were uncomfortable, having to talk to two recently bereaved women, but most were very understanding and I did gain strength from knowing that so many people were genuinely feeling such sympathy for me and Annie.”

  “Right from that first day, it was obvious that everyone accepted the story that the pig butcher and William were looking for a burglar in the warehouse and they commiserated with me that Simon happened to be with his father that night. No-one even suggested that there might be something strange about William and Dennison being together, because I don’t think it was widely known that they disliked each other. It seemed that the tale of Young Dennison’s death hadn’t been spread among the general population so nobody put two and two together and made five, a situation which made life a lot easier for me.”

  “The fact that so many people had been killed on that same night meant that the whole town was grieving because everyone was so directly connected to at least one person who had died. This meant that when I could no longer hold down my grief, no-one seemed at all surprised when I dissolved into tears while slicing ham or pouring a pint of vinegar and people tried to comfort me with hugs and their own tears when anyone found me doing it. One and all agreed that it was probably ‘the best thing’ for us to try and carry on by opening the shop and I must admit having to serve customers stopped me dwelling on the events of the previous night and probably stopped me from going mad.”

  “We had told the three girls the whitewashed tale of what had happened the night before when they all came downstairs the next morning. They weren’t as closely involved as us, of course, although the deaths of Simon and Peter hit Hannah very hard. She tried to be a brave little trouper and declared that she was ‘fine’ when I caught her crying as she mixed the pastry for some pies, but the flour mixed with tears on her face belied her words. She forgot how to be happy and didn’t sing as she went about her work and it was heart-breaking to see her so depressed and miserable. She missed Simon a great deal, because they had played together so much when she was working in the kitchen but she also missed Peter as well and I often saw her raise her head in hope if she heard a deep voice in the shop. I think their deaths reminded her of the death of her mother and she grieved twice over every day. I fervently hoped that she would find joy in her life again soon because the world had lost one of its angels while she was wrapped in sorrow.”

  “The next few weeks passed in a blur to me. There were countless questions asked by the authorities as they tried to piece together all that had happened that night along the riverside. We learned that Middlesbrough hadn’t been the only town attacked by the Hun that night. The same group of ships had also bombarded Scarborough and Hartlepool, causing an equal amount of damage and destruction and devastation in both those towns. The loss of life in all three places had been horrendous and the attacks were pointed out as an example of the barbarism of the German nation for attacking unarmed civilians.”

  “We learned that the Royal Navy had launched ships to counter-attack the Hun and try and sink or capture the ships which had done so much damage to the North Eastern coast, and I believe they did have some success, although their sailors lost their lives as well as our civilians that night. Because so many people had been killed and because most people were so shocked that we could be attacked in our own homes, we didn’t stand out amongst the townsfolk at having lost so many of our little family. The deaths of William, Simon, Peter and the pig butcher weren’t discussed endlessly by the town gossips, because they had so much ‘material’ to discuss, so no-one probed too deeply into their deaths and discovered facts that we didn’t want uncovering. Their deaths were only a handful amongst many, or as Sammy put it, four more trees in that dreadful forest and, as so, unremarkable.”

  “There was an inquest into all the deaths that had occurred that night, originally intended as separate, independent inquests for each death, but it soon became apparent that that way was unworkable, so it became a combined inquest for all the dead. It was dealt with with great sensitivity and the combined result was that all had died as the result of enemy action. Death certificates were issued and, eventually, everything settled back down to its normal wartime pattern and the town moved on, still mourning its losses, but facing them resolutely.”

  “I awoke every morning to the fresh realisation that Simon was dead. Sometimes I remembered immediately on waking, so that the knowledge was with me before I had chance to draw some strength into me, other times it was a while before my brain was limber enough to process the information but, whether I realised immediately or remembered after a few moments, each realisation was like learning of his death all over again. I got to the point where I tried not to sleep, so that I wouldn’t have to wake up and go through the whole experience again, seeing him dead on the warehouse floor. My body invariably defeated me and I fell into an exhausted sleep every night.”

  “But I was so lucky at that time, in the people I had who surrounded me and gave me the strength to carry on with everyday life. Annie was much stronger than I in how she coped with Peter’s death and she helped me live through that terrible time in the few weeks after their deaths. She often caught me sitting next to the embers of the fire late at night, trying desperately not to go to sleep so that I wouldn’t have to wake the next morning and have the realisation of Simon’s death to live through again. She would make hot drinks for us both and we would sit and talk about our boys, remembering things they had done and, eventually, smiling at our memories instead of crying over them.”


  “I saw on Annie’s face the same sorrow that I could see in my own, on the rare occasions when I looked in a mirror. It was the same sorrow and anguish which was on the faces of all the people in our town who had lost loved ones in the bombardment or whose boys had died at the Front. It was a cruel world at that time, with so many people feeling this great sadness and that was when I lost my belief in any god. I know many people turned to the Church at that time and it helped them battle through to the end but I turned against it and after William and Simon’s funerals, I didn’t set foot in either church or chapel ever again.”

  “That time was the only time in my life when I didn’t know if I could cope with what life was throwing at me basically because I didn’t have control over events, I didn’t make the decisions. All I could do was flounder along in the wake of this flood of horrendous happenings and try and cope as best I may. It made me feel insignificant and weak and incapable of ever being able to make a decision about my life ever again. I was constantly waiting for the next horrible event to happen and I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that the Sword of Damocles was swinging noisily over my head, all day every day, and I didn’t know when, or why, it would fall. Perhaps I’ve always been a basically weak person, I don’t know, but I do know that living with the constant daily fear of disaster is extremely exhausting. If it hadn’t been for Sam, encouraging me to eat when I didn’t have any appetite and reading aloud to me to calm me, I do believe that I would have gone under at that time.”