A Single Snowflake

by A D Tether

  Thirty minutes later, Louise was kneeling down by the opened trunk, in her hands was a framed school photograph dated 1944, she recognised her mother as a young girl standing on the back row smiling confidently, she was about to put it back in the trunk when a thought struck her, a thought like a bright light being turned on in her mind 'Why not hang it on the wall in your office.' The following morning, armed with a small hammer and a strong nail she hung the newly discovered photograph on her office wall, standing back to make sure it was straight she heard a young woman's voice in her head say 'Thank you, now all will be well.'

  *

  Now here she was in her office, she had made three copies of the much admired photograph and letter, one set for George, one set for Mrs Rose to give to her Grandfather, and one set for Joni.

  'I only hung the photograph this morning and as a matter of fact I only found it amongst my late mother's belongings last night, strange how things happen isn't it' said Louise Vincent.

  'Some things just happen like that' replied Marie.

  Geena who was stretched full length across the desk whispered softly to Joni,

  'Ask her about her mother's brother, ask if he came back from the war, go on, you need to ask her.'

  Joni thought in her mind 'I will then' and smiling sweetly at the secretary, asked as instructed by Miss Vincent's lady Guardian.

  'Excuse me please Miss Vincent, but did your mommy's brother come back from the war?'

  Pete fidgeted uncomfortably, sometimes his daughter's questions could at times be a little blunt, but she was only a little girl so he supposed she had not yet learnt how to lead up to such personal questioning.

  'No he didn't, he was lost in action, do you know what that means Joni?'

  Joni thought for a moment, she knew what it meant if something was lost, only last week she had lost a favourite dolly, no matter where she looked she could not find it and that had made her cry, but she couldn't work out what it meant for a person to be lost.

  'Not really' said Joni.

  'Well he was fighting in a battle and lots of soldiers were killed, they knew he had been killed but they never found his body, so he couldn't have a proper funeral' answered Louise Vincent.

  'That is very sad, I did a funeral for my rabbit, didn't I Daddy?' she replied, directing the last few words to her father.

  'Yes we did, but..' Pete confirmed.

  'It's okay Mr Masters, sometimes children understand more than we give them credit for' smiled Louise Vincent.

  'Does not having a funeral mean you can't go to Heaven?' asked Joni.

  'I think if you are good then you still go to Heaven' replied Louise Vincent.

  'I haven't got a mommy' sighed Joni.

  Louise looked at Joni, it made her grateful that she had been blessed with a happy childhood and loving parents, even if her mother was forty four when she was born and her father even older at the grand 'old' age of fifty.

  'I think it's time for us to go home now, I am sure Miss Vincent wants to go as well, we mustn't take up too much of her time' said Pete.

  'It's no trouble, it has been a very interesting afternoon' assured Louise.

  'Well my mommy always hated me anyway, that's why she left me' argued Joni.

  'No that's not the reason she went' said Pete as he stroked Joni's hair.

  'Yes it is, cos she told me she did not like me and she was going away, she said she did not care that she was leaving me and would not miss me' said Joni crossly.

  'Now how can that be, you were only little when..' sighed Pete.

  'She told me when I was a baby, I can remember' sighed Joni.

  'Joni is right, my Dad didn't care about me either, he thought I was asleep in my cot, but I was only pretending, I remember him telling me he was going away and he didn't care if he never saw me again' stated George.

  Marie looked down at the floor, trying to hide the tears of betrayal, she no longer missed Jack or even cared about him, but she had hoped that by now George would have forgotten all about him.

  Louise noticed Marie's distress and rather than make a fuss she thought it best to change the subject,

  'So you are going on holiday tomorrow, how lovely, a week at the seaside sounds just perfect.'

  George's ears pricked up,

  'Are we going to the seaside, when are we going, can I have a bucket and spade.

  Joni joined in,

  'Can we go now, I want to go in the sea and collect some shells.'

  The three adults laughed, at last they had the children's attention, but Henderson, Belle and the Grafflins were edgy, a prophesy was almost upon them and they had no idea what lay ahead, their only comfort was that Julian Speaksafe was accompanying them.

  Marie held the photograph in her arms, 'Sorry, but if nobody minds I would really love to pop in and see Granddad on the way home.'

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The past is linked to the future

  George Dale lay back on his bed pillows, in his hands that were crippled with arthritis he held a photograph, he closed his eyes and remembered the day he and Peter returned home to their families.

  *

  It was 1945, the war had ended, it was now safe for the children to return home to their own families, and so on a summer's morning George and Peter found themselves on a train journey heading back to the city, from which they had been evacuated. The boys had found a seat in a second class compartment and were squashed up together by the train window.

  'Now make sure you face the engine, because if you travel backwards you will be sick' advised Mrs Craven earlier, 'and make sure you write so we know you have got home safe.'

  It had been difficult saying goodbye, Judith had come to the station with her mother, Mr Craven was busy working in the fields but had made a point of seeing the boys early that same morning,

  'Now you two be good when you get home, it has been hard for your families with all the bombs, but at least they are alive and you have homes to go to' his voice quaked, there had been no news of his son, he had given up hope of seeing him again, although his wife still clung on to the old adage of no news being good news.

  Judith had cried when she said goodbye, 'You are like my little brothers, I shall miss you so much, we all have to make sacrifices, but it will be wonderful for you to see your mothers and fathers.'

  'We will miss you too, won't we Peter' replied George, but Peter was already dreaming of seeing his parents, he was only a very young boy the day he left them, but George understood and placed a big brotherly arm around his shoulders, 'say goodbye Peter, say thank you for having us, you will see your family soon enough.'

  Peter nodded his head, 'Thank you very much for looking after me.'

  Now they were travelling home, they passed through the countryside, stopping at each station, the train was filling up with soldiers, some still in uniform others in their new and ugly de-mob suits, more evacuees, mothers with babies, young women looking for a husband amongst the returning troops and the odd business man in his smart suit, complete with brief case and umbrella. George watched as the green fields gradually gave way to houses whose back gardens overlooked the rail tracks, the gardens all housed an Anderson shelter that in the following years would become a garden shed or coal house. Small children sat on fences or walls that acted as barriers from the rushing train, they waved as the train chugged by, George and Peter waved back. Next came the factories with their windows painted black to hide their interior lights, more houses flashed by, but as they grew closer to their destination the destruction of the war glared at them, a church stood in ruins and around it's perimeter were hills of rubble and twisted iron, here homes and shops once stood proud, a stray dog stood on top of one the rubble heaps and let out a painful howl at the passing train, a woman and child were searching through the rubble and throwing scraps of iron into a baby's pram. Suddenly without warning the lights in the train carriage flashed on, outside was blackness which was broken every two minutes with a
pale lamplight hanging from the tunnel walls, a whistle blew and the train came to a halt, it stood stationary for a short while, a whistle blew again and the train slowly emerged from the tunnel and approached it's final destination of the city station. George and Peter looked nervously through the carriage window, searching desperately through the hoards of people on the station platform, looking for a familiar face, looking for their parents.

  A woman started to bang the window from the outside,

  'Peter, Peter, it's mommy, I am here, come on, get off the train, oh be careful, hurry now.'

  George couldn't see any welcoming committee, but he knew his final task was to help the younger boy off the train, to reunite him with his mother and to see him safely on his way. A pang of jealousy ran through George's heart, he knew it was wrong to feel that way and tried to overcome it by grasping hold of Peter's hand so he wouldn't get lost in the crush, he carried Peter's suitcase under his arm, whilst carrying his smaller suitcase in the other hand. As they struggled through the crowded train George recalled the time when Peter arrived in Lembury.

  *

  It was 1943 and winter had set in, he was sitting at the kitchen table with Judith, they hadn't long returned from Sunday School and were learning their lines for the upcoming Nativity Play, George was playing the part of the Angel Gabriel whilst Judith had the leading role of the Virgin Mary. Mr Craven was sitting beside the fire, reading his Sunday newspaper whilst Mrs Craven stood looking out of the window, watching the first fall of soft snowflakes, two dark figures could be seen opening the garden gate,

  'Looks like we have visitors' she announced, 'you all stay in the warm, I'll go to the door.'

  Mr Craven folded his paper in half and placed it neatly on the shelf next to his chair, ran his hand over his hair, buttoned up his shirt and straightened his woollen tie.

  Mr Williams, the Baptist Minister entered the room, followed by Mrs Craven and behind her was a stranger, a tall thin man who wore an identical minister's white collar. Mr Craven stood up, shook hands with the visitors and invited them to sit down and make themselves at home. Mrs Craven insisted they took the seats closest to the slowly burning fire, and once she was satisfied her guests were warm she asked for their coats, 'You won't feel the benefit when you go back outside if you don't remove those heavy coats' she chivvied.

  Mr Williams eyed the children, he knew that again Christmas would be a frugal affair, but he was determined to make it as exciting as possible, the Chapel was organising a Nativity Play for the Sunday School, a Carol Service for all the congregation, culminating in a Christmas Party.

  'Good evening children, how are the lines coming along' grinned Mr Williams.

  'Very well thank you, and George is working hard, he will make a good Angel Gabriel' Judith replied seriously.

  'Children, this is Mr Jones and he has come all the way from the City to ask for your help' said Mr Williams.

  Mr Craven who had given up his fireside seat was now seated around the table with his wife Vera, Judith and George.

  'Whatever we can do we will' said Mr Craven.

  'We always like to help the best we can' asserted Mrs Craven.

  'Thank you, maybe I should speak to Judith and George, what do you think' questioned Mr Williams.

  'You can explain things better than us, yes please go ahead' agreed Mr Craven.

  Mr Williams stood up, he always felt more confident standing up, he knew he could never deliver a sermon if he had to sit down.

  'Well there is a little boy, his name is Peter and he is only five, poor little thing, anyway his Daddy has a very important job looking after a big factory and his Mommy has to go away to a secret place to help in the war effort. He has nobody to look after him, as his Granny has just gone to Heaven, do you think he can come and stay here with you, until this dreadful war is over?'

  'Can you manage Vera' asked Mr Craven to his wife.

  'Yes of course, but George it will mean you will have to share your bedroom with him, and it will mean a bit more work for us all, but I think we should say yes, it is our duty.'

  Judith sat still for a few seconds and gathered her thoughts,

  'God wants us to help all the children, we learnt that today at Sunday School, He will know if we don't help.'

  Two days later Mr Jones returned, at his side was a small scared looking little boy, a week later Mr and Mrs Craven received a telegram informing them that their son Kenny was missing in action, assumed dead.

  *

  George and Peter patiently waited in line, the noise of the other passengers was deafening, men were singing, babies crying, girls giggled when they saw a young handsome soldier who gave them the eye, and on the platform they could hear but not see a brass band. Eventually they were on the station platform, exhausted, hungry but nevertheless happy and there to greet them were Mr and Mrs Rawlings, Peter's parents.

  *

  George Dale opened his eyes, Emma a young care assistant was quietly tidying his bedroom, he could hear the kitchen staff preparing dinner further down the corridor, the smell of cooking vegetables wafted under the bedroom door.

  'Sorry did I wake you' said Emma softly.

  'No, I must have been ready to wake up, I have been known to sleep through thunderstorms, even slept through an earthquake once' reassured George Dale.

  Emma bent down and picked up the school photograph that had fallen on the floor , 'Would you like me to put this away for you' she asked.

  'Let me look at it one more time, it has bought back so many memories, hard to think I was a little boy once, isn't it' he sighed.

  'Not at all, we were all little once, do you want to tell me about it?' she kindly asked.

  'If you have time to listen to the ramblings of an old man, well why not' laughed George Dale.

  'I have time, I'm on my break now and to be honest I don't want to spend it in the staff room, so if you don't mind I will sit and put my feet up and you can tell me about your memories', and with that Emma fell back onto a large comfortable armchair.

  George skipped over the time he spent in Lembury, he wanted to tell her about the day he and Peter arrived home; he had almost forgotten about how he had felt that day, but now it was back in his minds eye as if it was yesterday; the old feelings had re-emerged, but without those feelings he and his wife would never have bought ten year old Marie to live in the town that cared for him during those dark war years.

  He rested his head back on the pillows, closed his eyes and continued his tale,

  'Peter's parents were there waiting on the platform, oh his mother was a sight to behold, she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen, I remember she was wearing a pale blue cotton dress with a tiny white belt around her waist, her blonde hair and make-up made her look like a famous film star straight out of Hollywood, but she was kind, oh so kind. She hugged Peter and kissed him on his cheeks and then she smiled at me so sweetly and shook my hand, thanking me for looking after her boy. Mr Rawlings must have been at least six foot tall, he was wearing a straw hat which almost matched the colour of his hair, and he was as handsome as Mrs Rawlings was beautiful. He went to pick Peter up and made us all laugh when he said that Peter had grown too heavy, but then he lifted him high up in the air and whirled him around like an aeroplane. But then when he had put Peter back down he looked at me with such caring eyes and asked who was coming to meet me; I told him my mother but I couldn't see her through the crowds, by now I was getting anxious, scared that she might have forgotten to come, I felt so alone. Ah but before I knew it, I was sitting on Mr Rawlings shoulders, I was the tallest person on the station, 'Look around' he said 'and when you see her just point the way.' Then after just a couple of minutes I saw her, I could see her by the ticket office, 'she's over there' I said pointing the way and expecting Mr Rawlings to put me down, but he didn't, instead he carried me right to her, Mrs Rawlings and Peter followed. 'Delivered safely one son' he laughed as he placed me down beside her, Mrs Rawlings handed
her my bag and told my mother that I was a very good boy and had looked after Peter like any big brother would and how grateful she was. My mother seemed a bit awkward, and I remember she never hugged me or kissed me, but she never was very loving. Then Mr Rawlings offered us a lift home in his motor car, but my mother refused, she said she had errands to run and we would catch the bus back home I, of course was very disappointed, but tried hard not to show it. I said goodbye to Peter and we both said we would write to each other, be pen pals and stay friends forever, Mr Rawlings gave my mother a card with their address on, do you know what they even had a telephone, hardly anyone had a telephone in those days. Anyway I never saw Peter again, mother said she had lost their address, she wrote one letter to the Cravens to thank them for taking me in during the war, but that was all.'

  Emma sat up and opened her eyes, 'Do you ever wonder what happened to Peter, what a shame you couldn't keep in touch.'

  'It is just one of those things I guess, maybe we are supposed to keep our memories as they are, maybe I would just be disappointed, who knows, but at least I now have this photograph' sighed George Dale.

  'Yes you do, oh well I had better get back to work, don't want to get the sack' laughed Emma, 'I'll pop in and see you before I finish my shift.'

  'Thanks Emma, don't get working too hard now' whispered George Dale, as he lay back down on his pillows and closed his eyes.

  Emma straightened his duvet and silently left the room.

  *

  If you had normal eyes all you would have seen would be a man and woman, together with a young girl and boy making the best of the last day of their holiday, sitting on a sun drenched sandy beach, but if you had all seeing eyes you would also have noticed that a little way beyond them, sitting amongst the sand dunes, was an older man and woman looking out to sea; their eyes filled with longing, watching and waiting. If you had looked even harder you would also have noticed the bright lights of Grafflin Guardians hovering in the bright sunshine, but most of all you would have seen Belle with her blue hair glimmering against the turquoise sea splashing the warm sea water in the direction of Henderson, who in turn called to the two children to join them, for tomorrow they would be returning home. But the Shenkans and Grafflins all knew that today was not yet over, that today the first prophesy would be revealed.