Born to Trouble

by Rita Bradshaw

  Pearl received fewer letters now and their tone was heavy even though both her brothers tried to keep the horrors from her. But she read the papers. She knew the troops were choked with mud and dulled by death and tested to the limit of their endurance. But as long as the letters kept on coming, they were alive. It was a telegram that she dreaded.

  She and Nessie prepared for a quiet Christmas. Amazingly, with the price of a loaf at record levels of tenpence, and food costs soaring, Pearl found she was busier than ever. Or perhaps it wasn’t so surprising. For the first time in England’s history, over three million women were employed outside the home in war work and earning a wage of their own. Pearl’s policy of keeping her prices down and providing tasty, filling food meant weary wives and mothers, exhausted after a day in the armament factories or delivering sacks of coal or any of the other hundreds of jobs women were doing with no menfolk available, could bring their families to eat cheap good food without having to cook it themselves.

  Pearl’s bank balance, already extremely healthy, rose sharply, and even when she decided to employ a third girl, her profits continued to increase.

  As Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday Pearl had decided to close the shop for three days, re-opening on the Wednesday. It was the first time since she had started the business that she’d had three days off in a row and she knew she needed it. She was exhausted, in body, soul and spirit. And then, on the Friday before Christmas, she received a telegram. It was Nessie, all the colour drained from her face, who brought it through to the kitchen where Pearl was up to her eyes in dough. Pearl took it without a word, terror making her ears ring. ‘I said I was you,’ Nessie said shakily. ‘I didn’t want him to frighten you.’

  Frighten her? Pearl stared at her friend. She felt sick, physically sick. Her fingers seemed to work independently of her mind because she watched them opening the telegram as though they belonged to someone else. For a moment everything was blurred and then her vision cleared. She read the printed words once and then twice before sitting down on one of the hardbacked chairs as her legs gave way. ‘It’s Seth,’ she said numbly. ‘My eldest brother. He’s – he’s hurt, dying. He’s named me as next-of-kin. I – I have to go to him.’

  Hilda and Martha, who had been helping Pearl in the kitchen, stared at their employer in surprise. They hadn’t known she had any other family but James and Patrick. Nessie took control.Taking the telegram from Pearl’s frozen fingers she read it swiftly. ‘The hospital’s in Gateshead,’ she said briskly. ‘One of them grand houses that’s been converted since the war by the sound of it, Wynford Hall. Still, that’s a lot better than him being somewhere down South. We can have you there in no time, lass. You go an’ freshen yourself up and I’ll get a cab, all right? We can manage here.’

  ‘I – I have to go.’

  ‘’Course you have to go, he’s your brother.’ Seeing that Pearl was incapable for the moment, Nessie nodded at Hilda. ‘Run and get a cab, an’ you – ’ she looked at Martha – ‘make a strong cup of black coffee. Not tea, coffee. An’ bring it up when it’s ready.’ Taking Pearl’s arm she raised her to her feet and it was like that, Nessie leading her friend as though she was an old, old woman, that they left the two open-mouthed girls.

  Pearl was ready when the cab came ten minutes later. Nessie had offered to go with her, but she had told her friend she needed her to stay and look after the shop. This was true, but the main reason was that she wanted to see Seth by herself. If he was dying – her heart stopped at the thought and then jerked into life so violently she put a hand to her chest – if he was dying she wanted to stay as long as he needed her, without worrying that she was putting anyone else out.

  Seth, Seth . . . All the way to Gateshead his name reverberated in her head. He was a soldier. The telegram had said he’d been injured in battle. He had gone away to fight and he hadn’t told her, hadn’t come to see her . . .

  Nessie was right, Wynford Hall was a grand old house set in extensive grounds on the outskirts of Gateshead. When the cab deposited Pearl at the foot of several semicircular steps which led to magnificent oak doors, the building in front of her seemed vast. Once inside, a reception area with a number of comfortable-looking armchairs dotted around small tables confronted her. She made her way over to a desk, behind which sat a young woman who smiled at her as she approached. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I had a telegram this morning.’ Pearl fetched it from her bag. ‘My brother’s here. I – I’ve come to see him.’

  ‘It’s not visiting hours.’ The woman’s words could have appeared officious but her tone was sympathetic. ‘Do you have an appointment?’

  Pearl shook her head. ‘It says he wants to see me and he’s very ill. I thought . . .’

  The woman nodded. ‘Sit down for a minute and I’ll see what I can do.’

  Ten minutes later, a young nurse came and escorted her to Matron Gordon’s living quarters which Pearl suspected had once been a reception room. The Matron was sitting at a desk as Pearl entered, but rose and shook her hand before asking her to be seated. ‘You are here to see your brother, is that right? Corporal Croft?’

  Pearl nodded. She had read that Seth was a Corporal, but only now did it really register. ‘I had a telegram.’

  ‘I know. I arranged for it to be sent.’ The Matron paused. ‘You understand your brother is very ill, Miss Croft? He was hit by shrapnel which caused considerable internal damage and necessitated three operations. However – ’ again the woman paused – ‘it’s more the fact that he has no interest in getting better that worries me. In cases like his, the mind really can make the difference between life and death. He seems very troubled.’ She flapped her hand. ‘Of course all the men are troubled, why wouldn’t they be after what they’ve been through? But somehow I feel it’s different with your brother. Anyway, he told me he wanted to see you and I promised I’d contact you and here you are.’

  ‘Yes, here I am.’

  The Matron looked at her, a penetrating look. ‘I don’t know why your brother hasn’t asked for you before in the two months he has been with us, but I don’t have to know. All I would say to you is that he is something of a hero. I don’t know if you’re aware of this?’

  ‘No. No, I wasn’t.’

  ‘He was mentioned in dispatches, I understand. Got several of his men who had been injured to safety whilst under enemy fire. Went back four times. The fifth was when he himself was injured.’ The Matron paused. ‘Whatever the family situation is, you can be proud of him.’

  Pearl stared back into the discerning eyes. ‘I’ve always been proud of him,’ she said simply.

  For the first time since Pearl had entered the room, Matron Gordon smiled. ‘Good.’ She rose to her feet. ‘If you would like to follow me, I’ll take you to see him.’

  The patients’ dormitories were all on the first floor, the Matron explained as she led Pearl into the hall and up the wide curving staircase. It wasn’t an ideal situation, not with some of the men having been blinded or crippled, but in these times they had to make the best of things, didn’t they?

  Yes, Pearl replied, they did.

  And of course these facilities doubled as a convalescent home once the patients were feeling better, and with the grounds as they were, this was a huge bonus. There were several acres for the men to walk or sit in, and a couple of the local carpenters had made over two dozen benches and tables free of charge for them. That was kind of them, wasn’t it?

  Yes, Pearl replied numbly. It was very kind.

  A nurse – bright, brisk, young – had told Seth ten minutes ago that he was going to have a visitor. His sister. She was talking with the Matron at the moment, but she’d be along shortly so they were just going to make him nice and fresh for when she came.

  He had submitted to the girl’s ministrations without protest. He usually did. They had a job to do, after all, and they did it very well. It was thanks to Nurse Hardy and the rest of them that he was still here, he supposed, because if
it had been left to him to eat, to physically put the food in his mouth, he wouldn’t have bothered. But they’d fed him initially and then bullied and cajoled him to eat while they stood over him. But he was growing weaker. He knew this and he welcomed it. But with the knowledge had come the need to see Pearl one last time and explain. Just to explain.

  He was looking at the door when Pearl and the Matron walked into the ward, and in the moment before her eyes found him he saw what a fine-looking young woman she had matured into. Of course, she had always been bonny, even as a little bairn, but now there was an air of . . . what? he asked himself. Something which had been missing the last time he’d seen her eight years ago. And then it came to him. Self-possession. The way she held herself, the tilt to her head – that was it, self – possession.

  And then she was in front of him, her great blue eyes glittering with unshed tears and her arms outstretched. She took his hands, which had been resting on the starched counterpane as she bent over him, her lips brushing his cheek as she whispered, ‘Seth, oh, Seth, I’ve prayed for this day, prayed that I’d see you again. Why didn’t you let me know you were here before?’

  He didn’t answer this. ‘Thank you for coming.’ His words were low and husky.

  ‘You don’t have to thank me – of course I came! You’re my brother.’

  Matron Gordon cleared her throat. Speaking to Seth, she said, ‘I’ve explained I don’t want you tired, Mr Croft, so your sister will only stay a short while on this occasion. Fifteen minutes, all right?’ Nodding at them both, she departed in a rustle of starched linen.

  Pearl released his hands to sit down, but then she took the one nearer her and held it tightly between her own. ‘How are you?’ she said softly. ‘Are you in much pain?’

  Again he didn’t answer this. ‘I – I wanted to talk to you.’ He carefully adjusted his position in the bed, but even then the knife-like pain speared one side of his abdomen. The other five occupants of the ward were asleep – or lying with their eyes closed, at least – it being the time for their afternoon nap. He knew he was lucky compared to them. Foster had lost both legs, and Davidson and Bainsby an arm and leg each. Shaw was so badly burned his wife had fainted when she’d first seen him, and as for Alridge . . . He didn’t like to think what Alridge’s life would be like if he lived. How could a man exist as a torso and little else?

  ‘Please don’t tire yourself, you heard what the Matron said.’

  ‘Pearl, I have to explain. I have to tell you about Fred and Walter.’ He swallowed. ‘They – they’re gone, both of them. We joined up together in the first week of the war and Fred bought it as soon as we were shipped to the front. Walt went the first day of the Somme. It was quick for both of them – and believe me, that’s something to be thankful for.’

  She said nothing but clutched his hand tighter, her face white and strained.

  ‘They paid their dues to their country, Pearl.We all have. If there’s any justice in the hereafter, that’ll count for something. Whatever anyone says, they were good lads at bottom.’ He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to regulate his breathing so he could carry on. He had to say it all. There wasn’t much time. He gazed into her face, his voice coming in gasps when he muttered, ‘We knew what you’d done, the shop and all, and – and we were as pleased as Punch. Our baby sister running her own business – and not just running it, expanding and all sorts. An’ the lads, James and Patrick. You’ve done ’em proud, lass.’

  ‘Not me.’ Tears were rolling down Pearl’s face now, she couldn’t help it. ‘It’s all thanks to you and Fred and Walter, all of it. I was at my wit’s end that day you found us, and suddenly you turned everything round.’

  Seth smiled. ‘You turned it round with the shop. By, the number of times I had to bite my tongue when someone or other was saying what a grand little place it was. Croft and Brothers. We liked that.’

  ‘Why did you bite your tongue? You should have told them I was your sister.’

  ‘Nay, lass. I’d never have done that to you.’

  ‘What do you mean, done that to me? Seth, I love you. Can’t you understand? You’re part of me and the lads, our flesh and blood.’ She stared into the rough, coarse-grained face that bore little resemblance to the brother she’d known as a child. He looked tired and terribly ill, his big frame reduced to nothing but skin and bone.

  She looked down at his hand in hers, the big knuckles and crooked little finger which had never healed properly after their father had deliberately broken it one day when Seth had tried to stop him hitting her. She had been only five years old at the time, but she remembered it distinctly. Their father had broken only the one finger on Seth’s left hand because that meant he could still work for McArthur the next day as usual. Speaking softly, she said, ‘From when I can remember you’ve been there for me, Seth – for us all. Trying to do your best and looking after us. I’m proud to be your sister.’

  ‘You wouldn’t say that if you knew the things I’d done.’

  ‘I don’t care what you’ve done. Anyway, that’s all in the past now. You said yourself you’ve paid your dues.’

  ‘I said Fred and Walter had.’

  ‘It’s the same thing. And I repeat, I don’t care what you’ve done. I love you. I want you to get better. Please, Seth, I can’t bear to lose you a third time. There’s room at home, you could come and live with us until you’re feeling better.’

  ‘I won’t get better, lass.’

  ‘Not if you don’t try – no, you won’t.’

  Seth moved his other hand over hers. ‘Look, lass—’

  ‘No. You look.’ It probably wasn’t the way to talk to a desperately ill man, but Pearl had heard the resignation in his voice and the words the Matron had said were fresh in her mind. No interest in getting better. The mind can make the difference between life and death. ‘All your life you’ve been a fighter, so why are you taking the coward’s way out now? I don’t want to hear a nice little speech about you being proud of me, I want you to be part of my life. I need you. The lads need you. I don’t know how they’ll be when they come back from all this, but I do know they’ll need you to help them make sense of it all. You’ll need each other.’

  ‘I couldn’t take care of Fred and Walter. What makes you think I can do any better with James and Patrick?’

  ‘Oh, Seth.’ His face had undergone a change, and for a brief moment she had seen the pain he was trying to conceal.

  ‘I miss them, Pearl. They followed me into war like they followed me in everything else. If I hadn’t said I was going to enlist, they wouldn’t have. I killed them.’

  ‘No, you didn’t! They were grown men with minds of their own, you know that at heart. And when you were lads you could have no more stopped Da putting them with McArthur than stopped him doing the same to you. Like you said, you all felt you were paying your dues for the past.’

  ‘In – in my dreams they call out to me to save them, but I can’t. I hear them. All the time in my head I hear them.’

  ‘That will get better. I promise you, it will. And like you said, they both died quickly. Maybe if you’d waited until you were all conscripted they might have had painful lingering deaths.’ Her fingers tightened on his. ‘The thing is, Seth, it was their time to go. It’s not yours. I know Matron Gordon thinks you can pull through if you try, and so do I.’

  He shook his head on the pillow. ‘Pearl, I know you mean well, but—’

  ‘No buts.’ She bent and kissed his brow. ‘Please, Seth, no buts. I know you can get over this if you want to, and I need you. We need you. I know that sounds selfish, but that’s how I feel. What – what if the lads don’t come back . . .’

  Seth interrupted her brusquely. ‘Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.’

  ‘I can’t help it.’ She made a small motion with her head. ‘I think it all the time under the surface. I’ll be all on my own then and I can’t bear the thought of that.’

  ‘Don’t upset yourself. Now come o
n, wipe your eyes. James and Patrick will come home, I feel it in my bones.’

  ‘Whether they do or don’t, I want you too.’ They stared deeply at each other again. ‘Will you try, Seth? For me. Will you?’

  He moved restlessly. ‘Pearl . . .’

  ‘Promise me.’ The time was nearly gone and now her voice was urgent. ‘Promise me, Seth. I know if you do you’ll keep your word.’

  Seth’s lips moved in a wry twist of a smile. ‘Your faith in me is humbling,’ he said with a touch of mockery.

  Pearl wouldn’t be deflected. ‘Promise me.’

  He had wanted her to come today so he could clear his conscience, he had wanted her to be soft, sympathetic – accepting of his imminent demise. He was tired, so tired, and the thought of slipping away into a place where he didn’t have to think any more, where he was responsible for no one, where there were no demands on him, was sweet. Some of the men here feared death, but it was life he feared – Pearl was right about that. He should have known she’d react as she had. She had called him a fighter and maybe she was right, but Pearl was the same. Fred and Walter hadn’t had that in them – he didn’t know about James and Patrick, they were virtual strangers – but he and Pearl were cut from the same cloth.