by Griff Hosker
His words gave me the chance to recover my composure and begin to dress myself. “Aye, he was a grand horse.”
“When do you go back?”
I shook my head and laughed, “Do you mind if I come home first?”
“Sorry.” He sat on his own bed. “As soon as I am old enough I am enlisting. Our Tom and John have both joined up. They are in a Pals Battalion.”
I was surprised. The last time I had seen them they had seemed to hate the idea of a ruling class and the British Empire and yet here they were volunteering. I had heard of these battalions in Lord Derby’s hospital. They were a clever way of getting men to volunteer. You fought with your workmates or friends. I had just left Flanders and they would be heading for that charnel house. Could I sit at home while they fought?
We went down to tea. Everyone crowded around the tiny table, I wondered how we had managed when we all lived at home. Despite the cramped conditions it was joyous. I cannot remember us all laughing quite as much. The subjects we did not cover were the war and my brothers. I learned all about the estate and how Lord Burscough was learning to drive. Albert was pleased with his lordship’s progress. I knew why- as soon as his lordship could drive it would free up Albert to join up. I said nothing. I could not blame the boy. I, too, had been eager enough to serve. I was not quite as keen to return now.
Dad took me, for the first time in my life, to the Wheatsheaf, the village pub. I had been there, of course, but never with dad. As we strolled to the pub he told me of an Act of Parliament which would restrict the opening hours of the pubs. It was not yet law but it would be in the next month or so.
“Daft, if you ask me. Some lads who drive horses and carts call in at five in the morning for a nip to keep the cold out. And what about those shift workers who finish after the pub has shut? It’s not fair. I don’t often agree with your brothers but on this I do. Those politicians in London won’t go short of a drink but the working lads do. It’s about time they stopped trying to make us live the way they think we ought to.”
This, in itself was unusual, dad never had political views. “You know dad, this will be the first drink I have had since I left home.”
“I thought they all drank wine in France.”
I shrugged, “They might do but we were never near any towns. So I shall enjoy my first pint with my dad.” I put my arm around his shoulder and noticed, for the first time, that I was now much bigger than my dad. When I had been growing up I couldn’t wait to be the same size as my dad and it had happened without me noticing.
There was a cheer when we entered the fuggy, smoke filled crowded pub. The smell was of tobacco, stale ale and sweaty working men. Returning soldiers were a rarity and everyone wanted to buy me a drink. My dad slammed his hand on the bar. “It’s my son and I shall buy him his first pint. After that we are both happy to allow you all to buy us our ale!”
I was questioned all night about the lads I had left the village with. Each death was toasted and a silence for the trooper. I found it quite moving. They were not forgotten and that was how it should be. I saw one of Doddy’s old neighbours, “How is Mrs Brown coping?”
He shook his head, “It’s a bloody shame. She hears about Tiny and then five minutes later Doddy buys it.” He looked at me. “She appreciated your letter. I think she is keen to see you.”
At that time a respectable woman would not be seen near a pub. I would see her in the morning. It promised to be a traumatic and trying experience.
I was a little drunk as dad helped me home. I was not used to drinking and they had all been desperate to buy me ale. When we reached home I was ready for bed. I saw a slightly disapproving look from my mother but our Sarah said, “Mum, after what he has been through I think he deserves it eh?” Mum nodded and Sarah and Alice helped me up the stairs.
There was a light under the door. Albert was still up. When I reached the door I disentangled myself. “I think, ladies, that I can manage the next part all by myself.” They giggled, each planted a kiss on my cheek and trotted down the stairs.
When I went in I saw Albert hurriedly stuffing the Luger back into my knapsack. It sobered me up rapidly. I was glad that I had unloaded it and taken out the magazine or there could have been a tragic accident. I shook my head as I took the knapsack from him. “I thought better of you Bert.”
“Sorry Bill, but I just thought you might have brought back some souvenirs. I never thought you would have a German’s gun.”
“Aye well you mind you don’t tell mother about it. Understand?”
“I swear down.”
After I had undressed and I had turned out the light I lay in the bed feeling quite comfortable. Then I heard Bert’s voice, “Tell me how you got the gun, Bill.”
“In the morning, I am tired now. I promise you I will but not tonight eh?”
Chapter 11
As I was eating my breakfast mum asked, “Well our Bill, what will you be getting up to today?” She had noticed that I was wearing my uniform and I could see a worried look on her face. We were alone in the cottage. The rest were all at church. Albert had woken me so that I could tell him how I got the pistol and then I fell back asleep to rid myself of the hangover. Mum had waited for me and she would go to the services at Evensong.
I put down my knife and fork. “I have to go and see Mrs Brown. I promised Doddy I would.”
“That poor woman. She loses her husband and then her two lads who should look after her in her old age are both killed. It’s not right.” I could see, in her eyes, that she was thinking of a similar scenario for herself if the worst happened.
I stood and kissed her on her forehead, “Don’t worry! We will all survive. It’s not as bad as you might think out there.” That was a lie and it is a sad thing when you have to lie to your mother but it was better than the alternative. Mum was a worrier and I would save her from as much worry as I could. I walked the long way around to her cottage for I needed time to think and I needed to give Mrs Brown the time to get back from church.
The Brown’s house had closed curtains. It did not mean she was abed; in Burscough they did things the old fashioned way. The curtains would remain closed until she had finished mourning her boys. When she opened the door she was exactly as I had expected. She was dressed from head to toe in black.
As soon as she saw me she burst into tears and threw her arms around me. “I’m right glad that you are safe. My boys always thought the world of you. Come in, I’ll put the kettle on.”
I knew there was no point in saying I was not thirsty; there was a protocol to this. There would also be cake and it would be the best china. This was my world now and I knew where I was and the rituals involved. After she had poured the tea and given me my slice of fruit cake she engaged in small talk about my mum and the girls. She was excited about the wedding; the whole village would be attending.
Then I made the mistake of complimenting her on the cake. She burst into tears again. “It was to be for Christmas. Donald, especially, liked it but there’ll be just me.” Donald had been Doddy’s given name. It sounded strange to hear it.
The fruit cake suddenly turned to sawdust in my mouth. After she had dried her eyes she took a worn letter from the drawer of her table. “Donald sent this when his brother died.” She proffered the letter as though I needed to read it. I took it and opened it. I recognised Doddy’s scrawl. “He said that you promised to tell me what happened to his brother. He thought highly of you did our Donald. He said the boys would follow you anywhere. He said you looked after them.” She reached over and touched my hand, “Thank you for trying to take care of my lads.”
I scanned the letter but I could not take it in. I had not known he had written the letter. I looked at the envelope and recognised George’s handwriting. He must have found the letter amongst Doddy’s things. I saw, for the first time, the slightly pink tinge to the letter. It was Doddy’s blood. I took a deep breath, “Well Mrs Brown I promised Dod... Donald, that I would tell about you
r boys and I am a man of my word.”
I spent the next hour telling her, without any of the graphic detail, how her sons had performed in Flanders. I did not have to make anything up. They were both fine soldiers. I told her of Doddy and Tiny’s heroism and how Doddy had saved my life. I ended by telling her of his final act of valour. “He should get a medal for what he did.”
As she folded the letter and put it away she said, “But it won’t bring them back, will it?” The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner was the only sound. There was nothing I could say; she was right.
I left the cottage with a heavy heart. As I walked home I wondered if I could have done anything more to stop their deaths and I knew I could not. It was tragic and unnecessary but, given that we were in battle, it was inevitable. At least Robbie and George had survived.
When I reached home I took off my uniform and changed into my civilian clothes. They were my best clothes for it was Sunday and that was the most important day of the week. Dad and the rest had not got back from church. Mum told me that they had gone to speak with Lord Burscough about the wedding.
When they returned they were all bubbling, even my dad. “Lord Burscough drove us in his motor car to the hall from church!”
You would have thought it ranked alongside a knighthood. Sarah nodded, “Mum you should have seen the faces of the others they were green with envy.”
Albert turned to me, “Lord Burscough asked after you Bill.”
“He wondered why I wasn’t in church more likely.” The looks on their faces confirmed my thoughts. I was not certain I was ready for church. Any God who could condone the slaughter I had seen was a strange god of love and peace.
Kath said, “Ooh and young Lord Burscough will be here on Friday. He’s coming for the wedding.”
That brightened me up. It would be good to see him again. He was a reminder of life before the war. Sunday was a lovely lazy day. After lunch the men dozed while the women cleaned up and prepared high tea. It was the day in the week when the best china came out and we all perched precarious plates on our knees and tried to get huge fingers into tiny cup handles.
Dad went back to church with mum for the evening service. I knew they wanted me to go but they never said a word. After they had gone Kath and Sarah came to talk with me as I wandered around the garden.
“I am glad that you are home for my wedding. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”
“Aye well if it wasn’t for this wound I wouldn’t be. For that reason I am glad about the wound. It means I can see my sister get married. Is Cedric worried about having to fight?”
“No, Lord Burscough says he is more valuable working in the big house.”
“Good. I am pleased.”
“Of course he gets some snide comments and funny looks. He has stopped going down to the Wheatsheaf.”
I wondered why I had not seen him there. “Well next Saturday night, I’ll take him there for a pint and we’ll see if he gets any comments.”
Kath giggled and Sarah laughed, “You will not.”
I was taken aback. It was not like our Sarah to back away from a fight, “I won’t cause trouble.”
“No, you goose, it’s my wedding night. I hope that my husband will be too busy to go out with his new brother in law.”
I laughed too. It was good to be back in a normal world.
I spent the next day digging in the garden. The potatoes needed harvesting and then the plot needed turning over. It was good physical exercise and was just what I needed. There is something satisfying about a garden; it is producing something. Even the dead from the garden bring forth new life.
The exercise did me good. That evening, at tea, I said, “I think I will go to the barracks tomorrow.”
It was as though I had dropped the best china. Everyone stopped eating and their cutlery clattered on to their plates.
“Whatever for son?”
I could not understand their reaction. “Well our Sarah wants me in my dress uniform for the wedding and it is at the barracks.” The relief was palpable. “What? Did you think I was going back to the war?”
Dad shrugged, “We didn’t know son. You’ve said nowt about it yet.”
“Well the regiment has been disbanded. I shall have to transfer if I want to go back to the war.”
Mother brightened but Albert looked disappointed. “You’d think about not going back then Bill?”
“I haven’t made my mind up, Bert. Besides I need to talk to George Armstrong. He works there now. I am still making my mind up. I still have some time before my pass runs out.”
I could have borrowed a horse from the stables but I chose to walk. I needed to exercise my leg and walking helped me to think. I was also uncertain how I would feel riding a horse again. Mum insisted on giving me a packed lunch and I put it in my knapsack. I felt happier knowing that the Luger was away from Albert. He might be tempted again.
The barracks looked the same and yet, as with the cottage, somehow smaller. The regiment had rarely had to sleep there but even so it had been the home for a couple of hundred men. It was tidy but looked forlorn and empty. I walked into the silent yard and thought about those men who would not be returning.
“You made it then? You are walking better that is for sure.” I turned to see a smartly turned out George. I strode up to him and shook his hand. He waved a hand around the square, “Welcome to my world.” He leaned in, “It is a bit quiet, mind. Come on, I have a little bottle in my office and we can celebrate.”
Once in his very neat and immaculately organised office he produced a bottle of cognac. “Compliments of the French. Most of the lads got something when we boarded the boat for home. I made sure I got something decent.”
“I notice none of them came home. Did they all re-enlist or transfer?”
“Aye. I think it was you and the others that made them do that. The colonel made a lovely speech about how our troop had made all these sacrifices and given the regiment a good reputation. He made it sound like they would be letting you and the others down if they didn’t re-enlist.”
“That’s not right, George.”
“Son, if we don’t fight then the Germans will win and they won’t be happy with just ruling the French and the Belgians, they will look over here. Now I don’t know about you but I don’t want shells falling on our womenfolk and the bairns. We shouldn’t have to fight but so long as there are people like the Germans who want to take everything we have then we’ll have to fight. We are fighting for a British way of life and I think it is worth fighting for.” He suddenly looked embarrassed. “Sorry about that Bill, I’ll get down off my high horse now. You make up your own mind. That is just the view of an old man who is now the caretaker of this edifice.”
We talked about the hospital and Robbie. I told him about my family and the wedding. He seemed genuinely pleased. “It’s almost as though you were meant to get wounded so that you could get home.” He grinned and stood up. “You’ll be wanting your dress uniform then?”
“I will. I hope it hasn’t been attacked by moths. I didn’t mothball it.”
“It’s in perfect condition. The first thing I did after I tidied my office was to make sure they were safe. Come on. I’ll take you there.”
Not only was it in perfect condition, George had even put his stripes on to it.”George, you shouldn’t have.”
“I won’t need them. I didn’t know you were going to a wedding but I am glad that I did it now. You’ll be a credit to the Lancashire Yeomanry.”
When I left, in the late afternoon, I had much to think on. George was a wise old bird and what he had said had struck a chord. I needed time to think.
They were all quite worried when I entered the cottage as it was after dark. “Where have you been, our Bill? Anything could have happened to you.”
“Why, have criminals suddenly moved in? The last trouble we had in the village was ten years ago when those gypsies tried to steal his Lordship’s horse.”
“Well, sit down and get your tea. It’ll be stone cold now.” They were worried about me still, even when I was home.
I spent the rest of the week getting fit again. I worked in the garden and did all the lifting and carrying mum normally did by herself. I knew she was pleased for washing day was normally a hard one as she had to fill the huge boilers with boiling water and then work the posser. I quite enjoyed the labour. I made short work of the wringer and we finished by noon. All in all the week was just what I needed. On Friday I was working in the garden again when there was a roar from the road as the Singer 10 crunched around the gravel and screeched to a halt. My mother came to the kitchen door, “Mercy me! What on earth is that?”
Lord Burscough leapt from the car and said, “Sorry about that Mrs Harsker. I forgot you hadn’t seen one.”
She bobbed a curtsy, “Sorry my lord. It is good to see you.”
He was wearing a flying helmet and goggles. When he took them off I could see that he had grown a large moustache. He ostentatiously twirled the end. “And you William, a war hero and a sergeant to boot.” He shook my hand vigorously. “Good show! Good show!”
“Would you care for tea my lord?”
The look on his face showed that he had no desire for tea. “Sorry Mrs Harsker. I just came to take William for a spin if that is all right with you?”
I smiled to myself. Of course it was all right with my mother. Nothing that Burscough family did could be considered in any way wrong.
“Of course my lord. Will you be back for tea William?”
“Will I?”
Lord Burscough had a mischievous look on his face, “Probably not! Don’t wait up for him Mrs Harsker. He’s in safe hands with me.” He replaced the helmet. “Right, hop in old chap and let’s see what she’ll do eh?”
I had only driven the car around the estate and I was not prepared for the speed when we hit the A6 north. We leapt forwards with such a burst of speed that I thought my head was going to fly off. I found myself gripping the door and the seat. I could see why his lordship wore goggles. My eyes were watering just ten miles up the road. Conversation was impossible and, once I became used to the speed, I just enjoyed the views as we headed north. I had no idea where we were going but it did not matter. I loved the way the car skidded around the bends and then leapt forward when his lordship jammed down on the accelerator.