by Alan Tansley
Mahala entered the room, and asked, ‘Have you made your mind up? Are you going down to our George’s to give him a hand this afternoon?’
‘Yes I am, and I’d better set off now,’ he replied, stuffing the paper under his belt. After quickly leaving, he paused on the way to George’s house, and finding the page, he began to read it again.
A recently formed water-company had bought land, which included a natural reservoir, and immediately sent reps touring around the area for customers. After reviewing their tariffs, many refused their services, thinking it silly. Most couldn’t afford it, but those who went for it, mainly the colliers’ families who didn’t have easy access to wells, very much liked the new term ‘running water’.
Baths made of zinc, or tin baths as they were commonly known, had become very popular. Many kept theirs hanging outside near the back door, on the washing line hook. Most were filled with water from the copper boiler after the weekly washing was finished. So after the women had toiled all day, scrubbing and mangling, they timed their baths for when their menfolk finished at the mine, and using a rubber hose, would siphon the water into the tin bath so they could bathe before dinner.
It was not the proper time for the water reps to visit the farm, as Joseph was in a foul mood, now knowing that other members of their community would have also read the newspaper containing the soldiers’ names. In a small village like theirs, word soon spread like wildfire. Many that had attended Henry’s funeral were now angry at being conned by what seemed like an outlandish army send off from his brother.
This anger also showed when Mahala attended her mothers’ meeting; Florence and her mother were the only ones present. When they had discussed the problem of attendance, Mahala informed the parson that it would be pointless to continue, so the meetings, which had carried on regularly for years, would come to an end.
The parson took her to one side. He delicately summarised their problem and told Mahala that if any of their family wanted any help, he would always be available. ‘Thank you, but no. We have helped many of our neighbours out during the war, and now that it seems they are shunning us over a misprint in a national paper, we will let them.’
Early Sunday mornings were the worst for the Cotton family; Joseph put his foot down and was adamant that they were not attending church. In the end, George agreed, so when they all assembled for dinner, they said extra prayers to make up for it. The Websters remained loyal to the Cottons, but when the villagers began to ignore them as well, Mr Webster found a different way of dealing with them: laughing at their ignorance.
Mahala was in a quandary because she knew that Timothy might be able to amend their problem, but she hadn’t a clue how to get in touch with him. When she recalled Penelope’s invitation to visit them someday, Mahala began to investigate a way of contacting them.
She went to see Mrs Webster in the railway station office, and asked about sending a wire.
‘To whom?’ asked Mrs Webster.
‘Our Timothy.’
‘And where does he live?’
‘I don’t know. I think that soldier said Birmingham.’
‘Whereabouts, do you know?’
‘No, he never told us.’
‘Mahala, I need an address to do it. I could send a wire to the Birmingham station and they might forward it on, but where to?’
‘Oh, this is all bloody stupid,’ snapped Mahala and, looking angry, flopped down on a bench.
‘I’m very sorry, oh, I don’t know though,’ said Mrs Webster, and opening a black and white pamphlet, began to browse through it. ‘Now then; I suppose I could notify the army offices in London.’
‘Don’t get into any trouble, and don’t you be losing your job. In fact, forget all about it. You never know, we might get a letter from Timothy soon, and then we can begin to ask further questions.’
‘Mahala, as if I would get into any trouble,’ said Mrs Webster, smirking.
Mrs Webster worked well, and over the next two days, repeatedly wired the army offices. She eventually found out where Timothy lived, and informed Mahala privately, thinking she wouldn’t want the rest of her family to know. Mrs Webster was sure that this was the correct address, but was shocked when Mahala also asked about the train times and connections to get her there.
Eventually, everything was worked out, checked and double checked. That evening, after Mahala had served their dinners, she sat down, saying, ‘Right, and please listen. Tomorrow morning, at ten thirty, I am catching a train to Sheffield, and then changing for one to Birmingham. I am going to see Timothy to enquire what has gone wrong with Henry’s funeral. I do not believe what was printed in the papers, so I hope he can correct everything.’
‘Don’t be so bloody silly, Mahala,’ moaned Joseph, then sighed, shaking his head in disgust because he didn’t think she meant it.
Staring when he stood up, she gasped, ‘Why am I so silly?’
Staring back at her he asked, ‘Because it’s so bloody far away. Think woman, what if he isn’t in when you get there?’
‘Then I’ll bloody well wait for him,’ she snapped, and glared back.
‘I don’t believe all this,’ moaned Joseph, and walked off into the kitchen.
With very few words spoken between them after that exchange, Joseph set off down to George’s to help him fell some trees. He knew that Mahala was determined, but didn’t give her credit for making plans. He was unaware that that working to Mrs Webster’sHarris’e scghedHarris’s
schedule, Mahala had bought tickets to travel the next day. They had sent a wire to the army headquarters in Birmingham, and she very much hoped Timothy had received it. In fact, he had, but he only understood the last part; ‘Meet me at the Birmingham railway station at seven o’clock.’
It wasn’t the first time Mahala had been on a train to Sheffield, having travelled with Joseph twice to go shopping. She was hardly an experienced traveller, however, and after she made enquiries about boarding the right train for Birmingham, niggling doubts arose; was she travelling on the right train, and more to the point, was she going in the right direction? There was only one other person in the carriage, and as it was a man, Mahala decided to restrict conversation, so she sat staring out of the window. As it was a sunny and bright day, occasionally the scenery was obstructed by smoke from the tender. Ever a farmer’s wife, however, Mahala passed the time by observing the numbers and conditions of the animals they passed.
Timothy informed Penelope about the wire, and on the day in question, he ordered a cabbie to drive him to the station. Meeting his mum was emotional, and they hugged each other tightly, happy because it was the right station, and it was the right day, and for once there was no outside interference or facetious or angry remarks in the air. However, when Timothy questioned Mahala about how she had worked out her journey, she grinned as she replied, ‘More by luck than good judgement’
She took in all the sights and sounds of the big city during their forty-minute drive, and when they arrived at the house, the first thing Mahala did was grab James and smother him with kisses. Penelope was all smiles as she watched them, and later in the dining room, she asked the maid to serve sandwiches for lunch.
As they waited for lunch, James was snuggled up, drowsing on her knee, but Mahala was now serious as she looked straight at Timothy, and said ‘There have been reports in the national papers about deserters in the army, and also about certain troops absconding from their positions. Our Henry’s name was included, and it stated he was guilty of dereliction of duty, but I know him, and know that would never be true.’
‘He wasn’t, mother, and I must say this: in most respects, the army works slowly, but sometimes it gets ahead of itself. His actions of bravery came to light after his death, and our Henry was really a hero; in fact, like George, he was far better than me at his job. Something along the communications line went drastically wrong, and he was arrested, then dealt with immediately. Unfortunately, his heroics didn’t come to light until
after his death.’
‘How do you mean?’ gasped his mother, and watched when he stood up, pondered, then left the room.
The maid entered and left a large dish of sandwiches with a teapot and cups and saucers. Timothy returned, carrying a folder, and sitting down, began to open it.
After browsing through the papers, he looked up at his mother, saying, ‘This is our Henry’s war record, and I purposely withheld it because I wanted to inform you about his death personally, mum. We all know what happened, and unfortunately the Major in charge was very ill–more ill than anyone realised.’
Looking bewildered, Mahala asked, ‘I thought if anyone was ill, they couldn’t fight?’
Timothy glanced at Penelope, really hoping she wouldn’t say anything. Deciding to keep the story simple, he said, ‘If the army knows about the illness, you’re discharged, yes. If they don’t, well…’
Sitting upright, Mahala asked, ‘Hang on, so who was this Major then?’
Penelope stared straight at Timothy, saying, ‘It was my father.’
‘Oh,’ said Mahala. She turned and smiled when James stirred, and then waited for him to settle down again as she began to put two-and-two together. Suddenly looking up at Timothy, she said, ‘So Penelope’s father rushed things through, ordered you to be in charge of the firing squad, and you didn’t know who was to be executed.’ Without waiting for a reply, Mahala turned to Penelope and asked, ‘Did you know all this?’
Penelope was bewildered. ‘No, this is the first I’ve heard of it. To be honest, I have never discussed the army with either my husband or my father.’
‘Mother, honestly, if I had known all the evidence, I would have stopped it. I never knew who was to be executed.’
Mahala pondered for a moment, thinking that Penelope’s father might be in the house. ‘So where is your father now?’
‘He died a while ago,’ replied Penelope, standing up.
‘I’m very sorry about that.’
Penelope half-smiled and reached down to take James from her, saying, ‘It’s alright, Mahala. I’ll just go let the maid know his feed’s nearly due.’
‘Aren’t you still feeding him?’ Mahala asked, thinking that James was still of an age to be breast-fed.
‘No, I’ve been having problems,’ replied Penelope, and continued out of the room. She did this deliberately to allow Mahala and Timothy to air their differences and, hopefully, arrive at a friendlier conclusion.
However, as soon as the door closed behind Penelope, Mahala growled, leaning forwards at the edge of her seat. ‘Do you mean to tell me that Penelope’s father instructed you to be in charge of the execution, and you carried out his orders?’
‘Of course, I had to. He was my superior, Mother. I am in the army, and as I already told you, if I hadn’t carried out their orders, the same would have happened to me.’
She slowly rested back in her chair. ‘Right then, I think I understand it all now. So, firstly, is it possible to stay here tonight, or shall I get lodgings? My train doesn’t return until ten in the morning.’
‘You can stay here as long as you like mother, and please, I understand your pain. You have lost a son at the hand of another son, and it looks like I did it deliberately.’
Timothy heard a knock on the door, turned and shouted, ‘Come in.’
The maid entered, and half-smiling, said, ‘It is Major-General Broadbent.’
‘Please send him in,’ said Timothy, and instantly stood up.
The General was looking very smart in his full uniform. He held his hat under his arm as he entered the room with a big smile on his face, saying, ‘Well, my boy, oh, please forgive me, I’m so very sorry to interrupt.’
‘It’s quite alright, General. This is my mother,’ said Timothy gesturing to her.
‘Very pleased to make your acquaintance, my dear,’ said the General, and leaning forward, took hold of her hand and kissed the back of it.
‘Same here,’ said Mahala, trying to remain poised but unable to refrain from staring at his highly-pressed uniform and highly-polished boots.
The General turned to Timothy and, smiling, said, ‘Timothy, my boy, this news I had to give you in person. We have a top brass meeting tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock. It seems we have a little more to do abroad in the very near future.’
‘Very well, let me know the venue and I’ll be there,’ Timothy replied. Turning to his mother, he light-heartedly said, ‘Let’s hope your train home runs on time, because he might send me first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘You can do what you like with him after he has put me on the right train home,’ Mahala said to the General. When Penelope entered carrying James, Mahala reached for him, saying, ‘These are the ones we must look after, the future belongs to our grandchildren.’
Chapter 29
It was early evening when Mahala arrived home, and immediately Joseph and George were all questions. Mahala was surprised when all they wanted to know the details of her journey; they never mentioned Timothy or his family. When Florence arrived, she had to smile when she heard them pestering her for answers about Birmingham, and Mahala’s tactful replies, which always ended with something about James, Penelope or Timothy. When she felt tired, she said good night, wearing a crafty smile as she knew that their conversation about her travels would continue in her absence.
Timothy was quickly posted to Belgium. He had one platoon of troops to help locally with their immigrant situation, and this mainly involved the policing of the border. Another specialist platoon began to register and chart the position of a particular cemetery containing fallen British troops and, wherever possible, they named the soldier buried in a particular grave. It was a colossal and thanklessly overwhelming job that required painstaking care, but it had to be done.
Fortunately for Timothy, this time his headquarters were situated in an old farm building that was quickly brought up to habitable standard. His men surrounded the building, now billeted in tents of decent quality and reasonable size. Their washing facilities were far better than in the past, but the latrines were still a hole in the ground.
As soon as he had settled in, Timothy wrote home to Penelope. He received a letter from her two weeks later, which gave him a permanent smile after he read it again. Penelope wrote that she was expecting their second child and hoped he would be happy with the news. Timothy was thrilled, and knowing his career would at least last three more years, and he was constantly adding to his pension, he began to write an optimistic reply. In the last sentence, he asked her to write to his parents and let them know as well.
In the village, bad feelings about Henry’s funeral kept simmering. It seemed that the Cottons’ neighbours just wouldn’t let him or his reported cowardice rest in peace. The Webster family were placed in the middle of it. However, always used to retaliation and abuse from his workers, Mr Webster knew how to deal with the constant jibes and comments about his friendship with the Cottons, and laughed it all off.
At the farm, not much was said to Joseph or George, who were regularly working to keep it viable. It was a nasty blow for them when government subsidies were reduced, then eventually removed. This caused a bad knock-on-effect for the general public by instantly raising the cost of food. Wheat was the first price to rise, which automatically raised the price of flour then bread, and soon most root vegetables followed, including potatoes. This was leading to an angry workforce who could not survive on less what they were used to, that which, for many a year, had been the bare minimum.
The instability increased when, once again, everyone was almost starving. Children began to take the brunt end, and many died in infancy. The early twenties became even more difficult when insufficient money was injected into the economy. This lack of investment only made matters worse, so now thousands were out of work, and many new-born children ended up being abandoned outside churches or homes with better incomes.
For the rich, nothing seemed to have changed. They were now driving to
wild parties in cars and drinking to oblivion, while many of the working classes ended up destitute in the local workhouse. This great divide between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have-nots’ carried on for years, but the government of the day still plodded on, spending the empire’s wealth. Not enough was being spent on raising the wages of the workers or improving their living conditions, which were deteriorating rapidly. This was leading to exorbitant misery, and was drastically shortening the life expectancy of the lower classes.
Timothy was able to visit his home five times while serving abroad, and eventually he was able to return home for good. It was noted by the authorities that his work had been first-class, and carried out with perfection. Records were duplicated, and when Timothy met his replacement, it took two days for him to fully explain the process of logging every detail and recording their surveyors’ reports.
The weather was calm as he travelled home, but being on the boat still brought back memories of accompanying Henry’s coffin, which led to a sad nostalgia for their shared childhood days. However, Penelope and the family met him at the station, waving, and Timothy brightened as he kissed her and scooped up his children. He covered James, now nearly six, and Laura, who was three, with kisses.
Because of Timothy’s salary, their standard of living had remained high, and they had deliberately left Penelope’s inheritance intact. Although it was a very reasonable amount, they had discussed it at length and decided that it was best to leave it untouched to make sure that their children would be secure in what seemed to be a very uncertain future.
The farm had also begun to prosper again, and they now had a tractor to do all the hard work. Joseph never bought a big steam engine because he had never had faith in their safety, thinking there were too many exposed working parts that could not only break the operator’s bones but maim them permanently. Indeed, some of their neighbours’ workers and family members had missing limbs, so he thought it wise to wait for the mechanisation to be developed and see what was invented.
When asked if a demonstration of the new Fordson tractor could be held at the farm, Joseph agreed. He and George sat on barrels, waiting for the TVO engine to burst into life. Soon, Joseph had to stand up, amazed when the machine set off, pulling a two-furrow plough at twice the speed his horses did.
