Ghost Soldier

by Theresa Breslin

  ‘Please, Rob,’ Millie said. ‘Supposing Jed gets shot. Then his name would appear on one of the casualty lists. You might have to read it out to his mummy.’

  Without waiting to see if Rob was prepared to speak to Miss Finlay, Millie ran back into the school, where Jed was now first in the line.

  She squirmed in beside him and said in a loud voice, ‘Jed is still at school.’

  Jed elbowed Millie aside. He spoke to the sergeant. ‘I only go to school because I’m made to. I’m old enough to leave and I want to join up.’

  ‘Well spoken, young man!’ The sergeant pointed to Millie. ‘Is this child a relative of yours?’

  ‘No!’ said Jed. ‘She’s just a nosy wee girl.’

  Millie was undaunted. ‘I don’t think his mummy knows he’s doing this,’ she said. ‘And Farmer Gordon won’t, either. Jed works on the Gordon farm before and after school every day to pay rent on the cottage where his family live.’

  The sergeant frowned at Millie. ‘Go away,’ he ordered her. He addressed Jed. ‘I take it that your father has passed on?’

  Jed nodded.

  ‘Your army pay should cover the rent on the cottage, so you needn’t worry on that score. It’s a good life, soldiering. Three meals a day. And the money you earn is your own.’ The sergeant winked. ‘You can treat a girl to an ice cream any day of the week.’

  ‘I want my pay sent to my mother.’

  ‘Rest assured, son – whatever happens, your mother will be better off.’

  ‘Not if she doesn’t have Jed,’ said Millie. ‘Jed is needed to do the work around the house. Who would chop the firewood? His twin sisters are too small and his two younger brothers are babies.’

  ‘You get out of here, Millie Gowrie, and leave me alone!’ Jed raged at her.

  Miss Finlay appeared at the school door. Before she went inside, a woman stepped out from a group that had gathered there.

  ‘Excuse me, miss,’ she said, ‘but my son Johnny finished his schooling only last year. He wants to go and kill some Germans in revenge for the deaths of his two older brothers. He’s my last son. I’ve asked him not to, but he won’t listen to me. Could you say a word, please? I’d be ever so grateful.’

  ‘Me too.’ Kate Ward’s mother came forward. ‘My lad wants to kill the men who killed his father. My husband is dead, and buried where I’ll never see his grave. I don’t want the same for my eldest son.’

  Rob followed his teacher as she walked to the front of the queue in the school hall. She introduced herself to the sergeant and said: ‘Conscription is in force in our country, and with it a recognized procedure for issuing call-up papers. May I ask why the army has decided to send recruiting wagons out?’

  ‘That could be classified information,’ the sergeant joked, ‘but as you’ve a pretty face, I’ll answer you.’

  Miss Finlay did not smile in response.

  ‘Papers go astray, or our lists can be incomplete. We like to give every loyal subject the chance to come forward.’

  ‘Please do not question our loyalty,’ Miss Finlay retorted. ‘One million loyal subjects came forward in the first months of the war. Glendale village has done its duty. We have already lost nigh on fifty men from our area – fathers, brothers, husbands, sons.’

  The sergeant looked her up and down. ‘Please leave,’ he said. ‘You are preventing me from carrying out my official duties. This is men’s work. There’s no place for a woman here.’

  Miss Finlay did not move. ‘Don’t you think this village has given enough without taking our children? Some of these lads are underage.’ She indicated the line of young men waiting to be signed up.

  ‘I tell them the truth,’ said the sergeant. ‘War is not just for a day and a dinner.’

  ‘Our children see the banners and hear the sound of a marching band. What do they know of the real truth of a battlefield?’

  Rob recalled what Jack Otterby had said about the bombardment failing to destroy the barbed wire and enemy trenches.

  ‘Conditions have improved,’ the sergeant stated in what sounded like a rehearsed speech. ‘Every soldier is now issued with a steel helmet and the war is entering the last phase. We’ve got them on the run. It’s a time for a man to earn medals and win glory for himself, his family and his village.’ He raised his voice. ‘Would you have these young men labelled conchie cowards?’

  ‘If by a conchie you mean a conscientious objector, then I do have sympathy with people who stand up for what they believe in and refuse to kill a fellow human being.’

  ‘I thought so – you’re one of them!’ The sergeant folded his arms smugly. ‘But what would your “conscientious objector” do if a battalion of Germans marched into this village? Eh? What if they shot all the menfolk, and the women too, and the children, even babies in their cribs? That’s the question that no conchie I ever knew could answer—’

  ‘Stop your specious argument.’ Miss Finlay cut him off. ‘I said I had sympathy. I did not say I agree with them. But what I say to you is this: it appears that we do not need to wait for the Germans to arrive to kill our children. We have you to arrange that for us.’

  ‘We are not enlisting children,’ the sergeant said in a patronizing tone of voice. ‘No children. The War Office has issued instructions. A lad must be eighteen years old before he can go overseas for active service. They can sign up when they are seventeen. But it’s only after they turn eighteen that they may be posted abroad.’ He turned to his adjutant. ‘This is what happens when women get a smattering of education. They are unable to comprehend the whole situation.’

  ‘I can understand what I read as well as any man.’ Miss Finlay took a newspaper from her bag and smacked it down on the desk in front of the sergeant. ‘It is reported here in the London Times that if a young man passes the army medical as being as fit as an eighteen-year-old, then he is deemed, de facto, to be eighteen years old and no one can complain. We know that you look for farm boys, because, due to outdoor life and hard physical work, they are taller and stronger than city lads.’

  ‘A lad knows his own mind. Yes, he does. He can decide for himself when it’s time for him to step up and be a man.’

  ‘I declare that what you plan to do is illegal. Do not put pen to paper until I return.’ Adjusting her hatpin so that her hat was more securely fixed to her head, Miss Finlay strode along the corridor to her office. A few moments later she came back with a pile of school registers. ‘You will find in these registers lists of my pupils for the previous three years. Their ages are displayed beside each name. You may not enlist any name which appears there as those children will be of insufficient years to comply with army regulations.’

  ‘You . . . I . . .’ The sergeant’s mouth fell open. ‘You can’t give me orders . . .’

  Rob felt slightly sorry for him. Miss Finlay was very pretty and looked fragile. She smiled a lot, but when she was annoyed and got angry, she could be very scary.

  ‘Sir, do not make any blustering protest to me.’ Miss Finlay drew herself up to her full height. ‘If you proceed to enlist any child in this village – any pupil from my school – I will report you to the Military Police.’ She snatched up a pencil and slate and wrote on it. ‘I have taken note of your name, rank and number, and I intend to write about this to the War Office, the Prime Minister, the King and – and Queen Alexandra herself.’

  She swung round and stamped out of the hall. When she reappeared outside, there was a ragged cheer from the waiting women. They surrounded her to thank her and pat her on the shoulder.

  Seconds later, Jed appeared. He was in a vile temper. ‘You should keep your mouth shut, Millie Gowrie!’ He aimed a kick at her.

  Rob jumped in front of Millie to protect her.

  ‘I was only trying to save you!’ Millie began to cry.

  Jed saw that his teacher had finished speaking to the village women and was looking over to see what the commotion was. He ran off, shouting over his shoulder, ‘In future you mind your
own business or I’ll tell what I know about you!’

  Miss Finlay gave Millie a handkerchief to dry her eyes. ‘Millie, I think you are a very kind child – what you did was with the best of intentions. But Jed will not see it that way, so please stay away from him until he calms down.’

  ‘He’s always like that,’ said Rob.

  ‘No, Rob,’ said Miss Finlay, ‘Jed was not always like that. He was a pleasant and biddable boy until his father was killed in an accident. It was Jed who found his father lying under the stones that crushed his chest. Don’t you remember him when he was younger?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Rob. All his life he’d played mainly with Kenneth.

  ‘It has scarred his mind and he is permanently angry with himself and the rest of the world,’ Miss Finlay went on. She looked at Millie. ‘What is he threatening you with?’

  ‘Erm . . .’ Millie said awkwardly. ‘I put a sandwich in the bin one day ’cos I didn’t like the filling.’

  Miss Finlay raised her eyebrows. Half of her pupils were constantly hungry. They might swap a sandwich or a scone with one of their classmates in exchange for something else, but the idea that any child would throw food in the rubbish bin was silly. Millie was too young to understand that to be successful, a lie had to be believable. She was such an honest child – why then was she lying?

  Rob noticed the expression on the face of his teacher. He too was uneasy. What secret did Jed know? Was it about the puppy? Nearly every time he’d been at Mill House he’d felt as if someone was watching them. Maybe it wasn’t a ghost in the attic. Maybe Jed had seen them crossing the fields and followed them through the woods, over the wall and into the gardens of Mill House and discovered the hut with Sandy inside. If he had, Rob believed that Jed was mean enough to report them. Would the Army Procurement Officer come round to their cottage and fine them a massive amount of money?

  It could be even worse than that. He’d warned them against disobeying army orders, so he might put them on a charge and they would end up in prison. Was hiding the puppy serious enough to be considered treason? Rob shuddered. People found guilty of treason were executed.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ‘DO YOU THINK Jed knows about Sandy?’ Millie asked Rob the question as soon as they were alone. ‘Do you think that’s what he meant when he said he’d tell on me?’

  ‘He can’t know about Sandy. Jed just . . . blusters.’ Rob used the word he’d heard his teacher say to the recruiting sergeant. ‘It’s nothing for us to worry about.’ He was trying to reassure his sister, but he was worried. Jed went into the woods to snare rabbits as his mother barely scraped by on the small amount of money Jed’s sister sent home. He must have seen them going to visit the puppy. Most likely it was he who’d moved the piece of wood across the door of the shed to find out what was inside.

  ‘I think Jed is jealous of us ’cos he doesn’t have a daddy at all,’ said Millie.

  Rob had a glimmer of understanding as he recalled his teacher saying Jed had been the one to find his father’s body. ‘Maybe Miss Finlay is right, then,’ said Rob. ‘Jed says nasty things to upset people because he’s angry.’

  ‘Should we move Sandy from the shed and put him someplace else?’

  ‘Maybe we should,’ said Rob. ‘But meantime, let’s get along home and see how Mummy is doing.’

  ‘I think she’s getting well again,’ said Millie. ‘She said she’d collect the eggs herself today.’

  Their mother did seem in better spirits when they got home. In the past month she’d not bothered to organize their after-school chores or check they were done properly. Today, however, she was waiting with Nell at the door of their cottage, holding a brown paper bag. ‘I want you to take these extra eggs to Jed’s mother.’

  ‘Take eggs to Jed’s mother?’ Rob asked in surprise.

  ‘I’ve forgotten to do it recently, and her littlest one is quite sick. A runny egg is practically all he’ll eat.’

  ‘You’ve been giving some of our eggs to Jed’s family?’

  ‘We don’t eat all the eggs our hens lay. Mind, don’t say a word of this to any of the children who are at school – Pearl or Daisy, or that big soft lad, Jed.’

  ‘Jed’s not a big soft lad. He’s always taunting me to try to get me to fight him.’

  ‘He won’t mean it.’

  ‘It sounds to me as if he does,’ said Rob.

  ‘And he said he would kick me ’cos I reported him to Miss Finlay for trying to sign up for the army,’ Millie joined in.

  ‘You shouldn’t let other people’s behaviour affect your own – especially when performing acts of kindness. Go now, while Jed is working at Glebe Farm, and he won’t see you do it. Leave them quietly on their doorstep.’

  ‘But why should we give them our eggs?’ Rob demanded.

  ‘It’s a neighbourly thing to do.’ Rob’s mother handed him the bag. ‘And I’m returning a favour, family to family.’

  ‘What favour has Jed’s family ever done us?’

  ‘Who do you think did our washing when I took to my bed, so ill in spirit that I could not cope?’

  ‘Jed’s mother?’ Rob was astounded. ‘She’s too busy with her wee bairns to look after us.’

  ‘Yet she did it,’ his mother said. ‘She’s been coming along here with her sick baby happed up in a blanket on her shoulder and the wee one trailing at her skirts. She’d boil up the water, get the washboard out, scrub the clothes and then go on her way again.’

  By the time Rob had run the errand for his mother and done the rest of his work, it was supper time. Afterwards, exhausted with the extra effort of her day, his mother went to her room to rest. Nell lay down in front of her bedroom door. Rob decided to leave his dog there. He’d no intention of staying any length of time with Sandy that evening. It was getting dark as he and Millie set out for the woods with the pup’s food and fresh water.

  ‘I’ve had a thought,’ said Rob as they hurried along.

  ‘You have the best ideas,’ Millie said loyally.

  ‘Well, if Mill House is going to be off limits, then perhaps we shouldn’t move the puppy away from there. Perhaps the shed in the bushes is the safest place for Sandy.’

  ‘But how will we look after him?’

  ‘We’ll not cross the lawn, but go the long way round, keeping to the bushes and trees that grow along the wall. And we can cut branches of evergreen and cover the roof of the hut so that no one will notice it if they look out from the rooms in the new clinic. I’ll find Dad’s telescope and make our own fire step to set it on so that we can have a lookout post like they do in the trenches. We’ll be able to see anyone approaching.’

  ‘Like bears and wolves?’

  ‘There’s no bears in Britain any more,’ said Rob.

  ‘Well, wolves, then.’

  Rob thought maybe there were one or two in the remote forests of the Highlands. ‘There are no wolves so far south,’ he said. He didn’t want to say to Millie that it wasn’t bears and wolves he was concerned about.

  There was no time to exercise the puppy. They hurriedly changed the straw and the water and left. Shadows were all around as they made their way through the bushes, across the lawn, to the top of the wall.

  Millie climbed down the other side and caught the haversack. Before swinging himself over, Rob took one last glance back at the house.

  His heart lurched in his chest.

  In the end attic window, quite clearly visible, stood a figure in white. It was pressing its face against the glass, staring out into the night with huge empty eye-sockets.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘WHAT IS IT?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Rob answered Millie, his breath coming in short ragged gasps. ‘Nothing at all.’

  He scrambled down from the wall. In the gathering darkness the twisted shapes of the tree trunks loomed, menacing. A wind rose, whining in branches overhead. Rob cried out in alarm as a crow flapped up in front of them.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Mil
lie asked.

  Rob pulled her along by the hand. ‘Don’t be so slow.’

  It was only when they were out of the woods that his heart stopped battering about. If Jed was following them, then it would be like him to try to scare them. Rob was angry at himself for getting in a state. Ghosts didn’t exist.

  ‘Look!’ said Millie. ‘There’s Jed.’

  I was right, Rob thought. Jed was always thinking up rotten tricks to play on people. He glanced behind, but Millie was pointing towards Glebe Farm, where Jed was slouching across the fields. He must be on his way home, having finished his after-school work. There was no way he could have been the ghost in the house and then got ahead of them and be coming from the farm.

  Rob decided he wouldn’t tell Millie what he’d seen. He wouldn’t tell anyone, not even Kenneth. His friend would laugh at him or want to go in a gang and search the old house – then it might come out that he was hiding a puppy. It was best that his classmates did as Miss Finlay advised and stayed away from Mill House.

  Therefore it was totally unexpected when, the next day, posters were put up in the village inviting everyone to the grand opening of the clinic.

  ‘How marvellous!’ said Miss Finlay. ‘I’m so glad they’ve decided to do that, rather than being secretive about the fact that shell shock exists. The public should be aware that people who have suffered nervous debility can be rehabilitated.’

  ‘Mrs Shelby is really happy,’ Millie told Rob. ‘Wagons delivering all sorts of things are driving through Glendale and she’s had new customers and lots and lots more gossip to tell us.’

  During the two weeks that it took to refurbish Mill House Rob and Millie cut branches of evergreen to use as camouflage. Rob nailed netting on the roof and walls of the potting shed to hold it in place. Anyone looking out from the top windows of Mill House wouldn’t notice it among the shrubbery.

  On the opening day it was Mrs Shelby, in a grand hat with feathers floating above, who led a column of villagers up the driveway to what was now known as Mill House Clinic.

  Rob asked Millie not to try to persuade their mother to come along. He left Nell with her in the cottage that afternoon. He needed to be on his own for what he planned to do.