The Heydrich Sanction
Page 33
The major damage had occurred around the green. The remains of Rose Cottage had been cleared and, by consensus, a memorial rose garden was to be created on the site. Building work was in progress to erect a new pub and a row of cottages to replace the ones gutted by fire. A new store had already been built and Tony Ogilvy was back in business. The military council, that still temporarily governed the nation and the Empire, had insisted that Ollerton be restored as quickly as possible as a symbol of British resilience.
Willie Ashford sat with Sheila, Eliza and Mary, who had taken pride in the crucial part her husband had played in the defence of the village. Willie looked around the church with affection and comradeship for those present and played a roll call in his mind of those who were not. Good friends and neighbours and heroes all: the Rev James Beatty, who had given his life in a desperate bid to save those of his parishioners, bluff George Wilson, Marjorie Humphrey (who would now organise the village fete?), Joe, gardener and countryside companion, George Woodrow of the Farmer’s Arms, poor Susan Jenkins and all the others, performing extraordinary deeds for the sake of their fellow man.
He remembered Mr Brown, the bank clerk in his three-piece suit, carrying the wounded with diffidence and concern, until at last he had wielded a weapon and become a soldier. ‘I’m glad we gave it a go,’ he had said to Willie before that last charge, no longer expecting a miracle but accepting his fate.
Willie took a deep breath to control his emotions and the bell stopped tolling and he glanced down the church and saw old Jasper Meredith come from the tower and take a seat at the back and the memories refused to go away.
The organist began to play and Frank Beevers entered the church with his daughter Sally radiant on his arm.
This ordinary English village would live on because it had made a difference, he told himself. It had roused the nation, had made its people take a good look at themselves and decide they did not like what their country had become.
As for him? Things had changed at home, as well. Sheila had forced the issue one night when the three of them had shared a bottle of wine after dinner. She had looked at Willie and Eliza without guile and said, ‘I love you both and I know you love each other. Circumstances can be cruel. Convention can be a fool. I am content to have the love of you both. Don’t be fools. We’ve all been through far too much to take any notice of convention.’
The service was a renewal and, after Bob and Sally had made their vows and received the blessing of the church, they turned and walked back down the aisle as husband and wife as the organist played Mendelssohn’s wedding march.
The congregation followed the newly married couple out into the sunshine. Friends smiled at each other, shook hands, exchanged greetings. The Colonel kissed Eliza, Sheila and Mary. To Willie he said, ‘The Bull will be open in two weeks, I’m told.’
‘That’s good news.’
‘Paddy’s missed it.’
The Beatles emerged from the church and Sally kissed them and they posed with the couple for the official wedding photographer. Their visit had been secret and no other media were present.
Richard and Alison Marshall joined the Colonel, Willie and the ladies.
‘Grand lads,’ the Colonel said, meaning the Beatles.
Brian Ogilvy approached.
‘The day the Bull opens, we’re playing Upper Bedford,’ he said. ‘I was told to ask.’ He looked from Willie to Richard. ‘You wouldn’t fancy a game, would you? We’re a bit short of players.’
‘I’d be delighted,’ said Richard.
‘So would I,’ said Willie.
‘What about me?’ said the Colonel.
‘He said they were short, Jimmy. Not desperate,’ said Willie.
They laughed in the sunshine and looked forward to cricket, a new season, and a new future.