by Nancy Carson
The introduction of the Avro 504 biplane in 1913, earmarked as an important military machine, was significant for Ned Brisco, since a licence to build it was granted to Sunbeam. It fell to Ned to perform test flights.
Meanwhile, trouble continued to flare in the Balkans and reached fever pitch when the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, was assassinated touring the streets of Sarajevo in Bosnia on 28th June. The Austrians alleged that Serbia was implicated. A month later, they declared war on Serbia. Germany subsequently declared war on Russia and then, to underline that they really meant it, on Russia’s ally, France. The British government responded by telling the Germans that the United Kingdom would stand by the 1839 Treaty of London guaranteeing Belgian neutrality, and would protect French coasts. The Kaiser arrogantly dismissed the treaty as a mere scrap of paper and, the following day, 4th August, Germany invaded Belgium on their way to France. Britain was thus irrevocably involved. Two days after that, Austria declared war on Russia and Serbia declared war on Germany.
Chapter 29
‘I think the world’s gone bloody mad,’ Urban Tranter declared from his wooden stool in the taproom of the Jolly Collier. He picked up his pint pot, swigged the contents entirely and wiped his lush, grey moustache with the back of his hand. ‘Wha’n yow say, Mary Ann?’
‘I say the world’s been going mad since the year dot,’ Mary Ann replied from beside her beer pumps. It was quiet and she had only two customers at that moment, those two stalwarts, Urban Tranter and Noah Fairfax. ‘This lot’s been a-coming years. Pray to the Lord as it’s over afore Christmas.’
‘Not according to Kitchener it won’t be,’ Noah said solemnly, his back to the fire as he sat opposite Urban. ‘They reckon the Kaiser’s already got one and a half million men across the Rhine, ready to invade France.’
‘Lord help we. The Kaiser could do with one a half million boots up his arse, mine among ’em,’ Urban said earnestly. ‘He’s bin squaring up for a fight for donkey’s years, building new Dreadnoughts, them new tanks, making new guns…you name it.’
Jake came in carrying a bucket of coal and put it by the fireplace. ‘This’ll be scarce, coal.’
‘Coal’s always bloody scarce,’ Noah complained. ‘At least this war might keep the miners at work. We might even be blessed with more of the damned stuff than we can burn.’
‘We’ll have a sight less here, if that Jacob keeps a-burning it while it’s August,’ Mary Ann protested. ‘We don’t need e’er a fire in here with the weather so damned warm.’
‘I like to see a fire, Mary Ann. It’s homely.’
‘It’s damned expensive an’ all.’
‘Food’ll be expensive,’ Urban predicted. ‘It’ll be scarce. Prices’ll be scandalous.’
‘And beer. They’ll put the duty up on beer to help pay for the war.’
‘Yes, Noah,’ Urban agreed, ‘But ’tis to hoped it ain’t gone up too much by the time you get your hand in your pocket for the next round.’
He turned to Mary Ann. ‘Pull us another couple, Mary Ann, wut?’ Noah dug in his pocket for some change. ‘And have one theeself while you’m at it.’
‘Damn my hide!’ Mary Ann said, feigning surprise. ‘And everybody reckons a beer off Noah Fairfax is scarcer than coal.’
‘Gerroff with yer. Anybody’d think I was tight. Put one in for Jake an’ all.’
Jake looked up from where he was placing lumps of coal on the fire. ‘That’s very decent of you, Noah, thank you.’
‘I went down the town yesterday,’ Urban said. ‘There was a queue a mile long at that recruiting office they’ve set up.’
‘I might sign up meself yet,’ Noah chuckled. ‘Can you think of e’er a better way of getting out the road of my missus?’
‘They’d have to be damned hard up to take the likes of you, Noah,’ Mary Ann chimed, typically poker-faced.
‘Listen, Kitchener wants every man he can get,’ Noah said.
‘I know. Fighting men, not boozing men.’ She placed two more pints on the table in front of the two men and held her hand out for the money in an exaggerated fashion.
‘You’m glad enough of we any other time,’ Noah protested good-naturedly, handing her a florin.
‘I wonder if that son-a-law o’ yourn is gunna join up, Jake?’ Urban queried.
‘Who? Tom Doubleday? How can he? He’s got a young son to look after.’
‘No, Jake, but t’other one might. That Ned. Him as married Clover. Him as crashed his flying machine into the railings o’ that cottage.’
‘Saft bugger,’ Mary Ann muttered. ‘He should have bin looking where he was going. I bet he was a-watching the women,’ she said, not comprehending the nature of flying. ‘I got no sympathy. And he never offered a penny to her as lives there to get the railings mended – by all accounts.’
‘I don’t suppose he’s got any money, has he?’ Urban speculated. ‘He was out of work and had to sell that hossless carriage of his so as they could afford to live, so his mother said. They hadn’t got two ha’pennies to scratch their arses with.’
‘Well, remember that loan he had, Urban?’ Noah said.
‘Blimey, ar. I do remember summat about it now you mention it.’
‘What was that, then?’ Mary Ann queried.
‘Somebody lent him some money – two hundred quid, I heard – I’m certain it was Zillah what told me – to buy an engine for that flying machine of his. But just as soon as he’d had it, he got a job at Star in Wolverhampton and they was building engines any road, so he never needed the money. I heard as he’s never paid it back neither. P’raps he couldn’t afford to.’
‘What fool was saft enough to lend him that much?’ Mary Ann asked.
‘Nobody ever knew. It was amon … anom … anomol—…Whoever lent the money wun’t let on who it was.’
‘Anonymous,’ Jake prompted, laughing. ‘That’s the word you’m scratting round for.’
‘Ar, that’s the word, Jake. I always talk with a limp when I’n had a pint or two.’
‘Limp?’ Urban queried with a wry smile. ‘You stumbled arse over bollocks with that un. Good and proper.’
‘Well, anyroad, like I was a-saying, Mary Ann – whoever lent him the money passed it through that reporter from the Dudley Herald who did that harticle on Ned when he had his picture in the paper. Remember? Anyroad, maybe they’m a bit better off now he’s in work again, flying for a living.’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Mary Ann commented, affecting contempt. ‘I don’t suppose she’d come to me for help anyroad. She’s too proud, our Clover, too independent. I ain’t caught sight of her since that night she walked out of here. Zillah tells me as how that little daughter of hers is beautiful, but I’ve never clapped eyes on her.’
‘It don’t do for families to fall out, does it Jake?’ Urban said seriously. ‘Life’s too short.’
‘Life is too short,’ Jake agreed sincerely. ‘I’ve told her as much meself. Look what happened to our Ramona…and her mother before her.’
Mary Ann turned away, trying to conceal her innate disdain for a mother and daughter who were both too weak to resist the advances of lecherous, demanding men, and who had duly paid the price. It had happened to Clover, her own daughter. But after all this time she still missed Clover, and that same innate disdain was too expensive a price to pay. It was not making Mary Ann happy and content. Rather it made her sad; she had suffered the loss of a daughter, enduring grief as bitter as any bereavement because of it. She regretted that horrible evening they’d argued, when she’d felt obliged to disown her. If only she could put back the clock. Clover had been right, Mary Ann had admitted to herself finally. She had needed the willing support of her mother during the most difficult time of her life. She only had to imagine herself in Clover’s position to realise it. Mary Ann knew full well her daughter had been carrying Tom Doubleday’s child and did not admire her for it but, because Ramona had already married him, and because Mary An
n didn’t want to cause any rift or dissension with Jake, she kept the knowledge strictly to herself. She realised now, too, that Clover had married Ned, not out of free choice, but because once offered it she had no choice; partly because of Mary Ann’s own failings as a mother. The girl was having to tolerate the consequences of that, however objectionable those consequences might be. Besides, now she had a little granddaughter, a gem by all accounts, and she would love to know the child. Even if it was illegitimate, it was not the child’s fault. Why should she miss out on her only grandchild for the sake of a principle it was now too painful to support?
‘But what I’m saying,’ Noah continued, determined not to be side-tracked. ‘It wunt surprise me if that Ned Brisco does join up. The Royal Flying Corps am clamouring for chaps what can fly aeroplanes for this war.’
‘Then let’s hope he does,’ Mary Ann declared, and the others looked at her, surprised she should want such a thing.
Clover had long given up the pretence of meeting her imaginary friend Rose when she went to see Tom. Nowadays, she was open with Ned about her affair and, when she was going out, she told him where she was going. Ned accepted it without comment. He had conceded that he could never make her interested in himself. When they had eventually discussed it rationally he agreed that their marriage had not been the brilliant success he hoped it might be. It had not produced the results he desired, and he knew it never would.
So it was one evening in mid-September in 1914. Clover left the house at half past seven, having put Posy to bed and ensured she was no trouble to Ned who was content to sit at the table all night and draw plans of bombers, while Liquorice lay contentedly curled up on his lap. She arrived at five to eight, having caught the ten to eight tram. It dropped her outside a public house called the British Oak and she crossed the street to Tom’s house. She let herself in and took off her hat and coat.
‘Is Daniel in bed?’ she asked quietly, lest her arrival disturb him.
Tom nodded. ‘Nearly an hour ago.’
Daniel had taken mightily to Clover and, if he suspected she was about to visit, he insisted on staying up to see her. Tom, as a result, found himself denying that Clover was expected any night, in order to get him off to sleep by the time she arrived.
‘Is there anything that wants doing?’ she asked. ‘Ironing? Washing? Dusting?’
‘No,’ he said with a smile. ‘You do enough. Come and sit down by me and take it easy.’
She smiled back and sat by him on his sofa. ‘Did you get a paper tonight? I wondered what news there was.’
‘It’s depressing, this war. The British Expeditionary Force they sent out has been having a hard time of it. The Germans swept over most of Belgium and last I heard they were well within striking distance of Paris. Paris is sure to fall. Reims has already been taken. Ghent and Lille will be next.’
‘I heard we were suffering heavy casualties, Tom, but some men saw a vision of an angel shining brightly, that actually stopped the battle at Mons for a while.’
‘And you believe that?’
‘Too many witnessed it just to dismiss it.’
‘Pity it’s not about all the time then,’ he commented sadly. ‘The Russians have been routed as well on the Eastern Front. They’re courageous and no two ways, but they say the Germans are just too well organised.’
‘What do you think will happen, Tom?’
‘God knows, sweetheart,’ he said, his heart heavy. ‘They’re not going to be the walkover everybody thought they would be. I suppose we’ll recruit more men and have a good go back at ’em. We won’t give in, that’s for certain.’
‘Promise me you won’t join up.’ She looked into his eyes earnestly.
‘I can’t join up. Daniel is my priority. It’d be irresponsible of me to leave him here with my mother, then go and get killed. I don’t want him growing up without his father. Besides, I’m thirty-one now. They probably wouldn’t have me.’
‘I imagine they’d be glad of anybody who’s fit and well,’ she said, and nestled her head on his chest as his arm went around her shoulders.
‘It’s not that I’m a coward, or unpatriotic, Clover. I would go if I could. I feel I ought, like any decent Englishman. But—’
‘Oh, promise me you won’t go,’ she pleaded anxiously. ‘I couldn’t stand to lose you again.’
‘Oh, Clover,’ he sighed. ‘Have no fear…’ He was touched by her obvious concern. ‘Kiss me…’
She kissed him, lingering at the taste and feel of his lips on hers.
‘Do you think for a minute I could give up your kisses?’ he whispered softly when they’d broken off their embrace. ‘Do you honestly believe I could go away and maybe never have the pleasure of lying with you again?’
She shuddered. ‘The thought is too horrible to contemplate…’
Both contemplated it…
‘Take me to bed, Tom.’
He stood up, held out his hand to her and she took it. When he’d pulled her up he opened the stairs door quietly and they tiptoed up the bent staircase. They stood at the side of Tom’s bed and turned to face each other. She rested her head against his chest, then he lifted her face to his and kissed her again, so sweetly, so lovingly. Dusk was neutralising the colour of everything, but its subdued greyness managed to send enough illumination through the sash window for them to see each other’s expressions clearly. Looking deeply into her eyes, he unbuttoned the front of her blouse and, when it opened, he pushed it back over her shoulders and down her arms and it fell whispering to the floor. He unfastened the waist-band of her skirt and allowed that as well to fall around her feet.
‘I’ll do the rest,’ she whispered with a smile. ‘Otherwise we’ll be here all night.’
‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘Women’s underwear is much too complicated for me.’
As she divested herself of the rest of her clothes he too got undressed. Naked, she shivered at the cool evening air of September and jumped into bed first, snuggling under the layers of blankets and sheets for warmth. He slid in beside her.
‘Hold me,’ she whispered. ‘I’m cold.’
‘I’ll soon warm you.’
‘That’s what I’m counting on.’
The warmth from his body was irresistible. It was almost as familiar to her as her own by now, yet she never tired of the feel of him against her own skin.. In the darkness his body felt smooth and firm to her touch and she caressed it, sensually brushing her lips over his shoulders and his neck. He pushed himself against her and she held him there, her hand cupped around his firm right buttock. She felt him hard and ready against her thigh; such a welcome sensation. As she rolled onto her back submissively his hands gently stroked her stomach.
‘To say you’ve had a child, your belly’s like it always used to be – smooth and flat.’
She smiled contentedly. ‘I’m glad you approve.’
‘Oh, I do.’ He felt her right breast and squeezed it gently. ‘These too. As firm as ever they were. I always thought breastfeeding made them soft and pappy.’
‘Maybe it does if you keep it up for months and months. Or after lots of babies.’
They kissed again and she found she was getting warmer.
‘I wonder what a child of ours would look like?’ he remarked, his fingers gently fondling the soft, warm place between her legs and making her squirm with pleasure.
She sighed, not certain how to answer. ‘It would be beautiful,’ she breathed, after due consideration. ‘They say any child conceived in love is beautiful.’
‘Then ours would be the most beautiful child in the world.’
‘Without doubt…But, if you don’t mind, Tom, we’ll try and avoid one as usual this time. I’m a married woman, remember.’
‘You know, that’s the only thing I’ve got against you, Clover,’ he said teasingly. ‘You’ve already got a husband.’
‘Don’t remind me. Just shut up and kiss me again.’
He kissed her ardently. His skilful touch a
nd his smooth skin pressing against her lit her up like a beacon, as it always did. Sensuously, she manoeuvred herself underneath him. When he rolled onto her she let out a little sigh of anticipation, then a gasp of pleasure as she felt him, as eager as she was, slip silkily inside her.
When she returned home Ned was sitting in the old second-hand armchair they’d bought when they moved into the house. He was reading the Wolverhampton Express and Star and looked up as she opened the door.
‘Has Posy been all right?’
‘I haven’t heard a murmur from her.’
‘Good. Thank you for looking after her, Ned. I’ll put the kettle on, then I’ll go up and have a look at her. Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘Might as well.’ He sounded depressed.
She went to move into the scullery, venturing no further conversation.
‘Clover…’
‘Yes?’ She already had her fingers on the door latch. She turned to face him.
‘I’ve been reading the newspapers these last few weeks…Did you know it was a flyer on a reconnaissance mission at Mons that first saw von Kluck’s army starting to surround the British Expeditionary Force?’
‘I heard we’d been taking a bashing.’
‘Well, when he reported it, the High Command knew they would have to retreat. I daresay it injured their pride but there’s no doubt that the information saved our army. Then, at the end of August some French flyers observed the German army on the move again, which meant the British and French ought to change their positions – which they did. It brought about our victory at the Battle of the Marne, and so Paris was saved…’ He paused to let this information sink in. ‘That’s what I want to do, Clover – reconnaissance… So tomorrow I’m going to the recruiting office to volunteer for the Royal Flying Corps. The country needs flyers like me. I can be of more use in France than I am here. It’s not as if you want me around. It’s not as if you’re bothered about me. Besides, if I go, that’ll leave you free to get on with your love affair. You will anyway, whether I’m around or not.’
