Until We Meet Again

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Aye, that’s the way it goes, lad,’ replied his father, ‘but it’s work I’d much rather do without. Yes, it’s a bad do, it is that. And so unexpected an’ all. We thought we’d be far enough away from it all, here in Scarborough, didn’t we?’

  ‘So we did,’ agreed Freddie. ‘Well, I’d better get off to work now. I’ll go and see if the bank has survived.’ He kissed his wife and little daughter. ‘I’ll see you around six o’clock… We really are most grateful to you, William, and Faith.’

  They decided to carry on as normal at Moon’s Modes and the undertaking yard, at least as normal as it was possible to be. There were no customers at the store, though, save for two ladies, regular customers, who came towards the end of the afternoon, ostensibly to choose new winter hats – which they did – but also, Faith guessed, to see for themselves the damage that had occurred in their neighbourhood. Faith and Muriel and the younger assistants had spent most of the morning clearing up the chaos left by an exploding shell. Fortunately, only a few items of clothing had been destroyed, and the others which were merely crumpled would be sold in an end of season sale.

  Work proceeded as usual in the yard; there were two funerals booked for later in the week; life – and death – had to go on. William made arrangements with a firm of joiners to board up the broken windows of the office and store, and those of Maddy’s business, Nicholls and Stringer.

  He went with Maddy in the motor-car later that day to collect more of their belongings to transport to Victoria Avenue, which would be their home for the unforeseeable future. There was other damage to the property, which had not been noticed at first; cracks in the brickwork, a broken chimney stack and slates missing from the roof. All would have to be put to rights to make the little home safe again for the Nicholls family…but who could tell how long that would be?

  There was a good deal of comment in the newspapers – not only the local ones, but in the national press as well – concerning the raid on the north-east coast. There was outrage amongst the public at large, not only at the enemy but at the Royal Navy for failing to prevent the raid.

  It was not only Scarborough that had been shelled. Following their onslaught on that town the three warships – named in the press as the Deerflinger, the Van der Tann and the Karlberg – had sailed northwards to Whitby and Hartlepool. The combined attack resulted in 137 fatalities and 592 casualties. In Scarborough itself, where five hundred shells had landed, nineteen people were killed and eighty wounded, many of them severely so. These were the first civilian casualties on British soil since the French Revolutionary Wars.

  ‘Why Scarborough?’ was the question on everyone’s lips. At the outbreak of the war the council had taken the usual defence precautions in the form of barricades on all roads leading up from the cliffs, but no one had expected bombardment from the sea. Scarborough was an undefended town with no gun emplacements; the harbour was not suitable for warships, nor was it close to any significant military targets.

  This was not true, however, of the entire Yorkshire coast. To the north the mouth of the River Tees and the town of Hartlepool were defended by gun batteries, as well as the mouth of the Humber, further south. It was reported that the Germans had genuinely believed that Scarborough was defended by a gun battery, which would have made it a legitimate target under the rules of the Hague Conference of 1907. But this cut no ice with the many people who had lost their homes and, in some cases, their loved ones in the unexpected and devastating attack.

  In the local paper there were many stories of peoples’ comments and of the bravery of ordinary folk. A postman, named as Alfred Beal, had lost his life whilst carrying on as normal with his delivery. Sam Fletcher, a milkman, had had a narrow escape. He had left his cart to deliver milk to the nearby houses, and on returning – quickly, lest his horse should be frightened at the noise – he saw a piece of shell entering the body of his horse, killing it instantly, but leaving himself – and the milk – untouched.

  The Archdeacon at St Martin’s church carried on with his early morning Communion Service when the church was struck by three shells, remarking that they were as safe there as anywhere else. And an old lady, when asked to go downstairs for greater safety had replied, ‘I’ll noo go doonstairs. If the good Lord wants me to be killed He’ll see to it anyroad.’

  The reports of damage were myriad. The castle wall was pierced and the castle itself – already a ruin – suffered further damage; and the lighthouse was hit so badly that it had to be pulled down. Several of the prestigious hotels suffered from the shelling; the Grand, the Royal and the Crown; and the Council chamber in the Town Hall, as well as the countless homes of ordinary people, some of them more than a mile inland, where they might have expected to be safe.

  One report, pertinent to the members of Uncle Percy’s Pierrots, was that their rival, Will Catlin, had suffered a double blow. His show’s entire wardrobe at the Clarence Gardens site had been demolished, and damage had been caused at his newly built Kingscliffe Holiday Camp. But none of Percy’s troupe would have dreamt of gloating about this. They had all miraculously escaped without injury.

  The folk of Scarborough nodded sagely at the report in the Times by that paper’s special correspondent. He wrote, ‘The shells which scattered the town of Scarborough have made no impression on the spirit of the people. Nothing could be more praiseworthy than the manner in which the town passed through its ordeal and has returned to its normal life.’

  None more so than William Moon. ‘Aye, we’re a tough breed, us Yorkshire folk,’ he commented to his wife. ‘There’s nowt much can faze us.’

  The attack, however, did spark fears of an imminent invasion, and a major recruiting drive for the army was started almost at once, under the banner, ‘Remember Scarborough’. This was to have a lasting effect on the male population of the town, not least the menfolk of the Moon family and their close associates.

  Chapter Seven

  In the streets of Scarborough, as 1915 dawned, the pointing finger of Lord Kitchener was still to be seen on billboards exhorting the men of the town to enlist in the army. His image was joined now by posters with the stark message ‘Remember Scarborough’. Indeed, who would ever forget the savage onslaught on their town in mid-December?

  Freddie Nicholls was the first of the family to respond to the call. He waited until Christmas was over before breaking the news to Maddy. He told her just before leaving for work one Monday morning in January that he would not be coming home that day for his midday meal. He and another of his fellow bank clerks had decided to go to the recruiting office and sign on for the army; this was still referred to as ‘taking the king’s shilling’, harking back to the days of the Crimean and Boer Wars.

  Maddy gave a sad smile, then kissed her husband, as she did each morning when he departed for work, with more fervour that usual. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised,’ she told him. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to tell me.’ She had noticed his restlessness and his avid reading of the war bulletins in the newspapers. She did not try to comfort herself, or Freddie, now, by saying that it might all be over before long. All hopes of a speedy return to peace had perished in the stalemate of the trenches.

  ‘It’s something I know I have to do,’ he said, ‘although I deplore the whole idea of war. It is evil and, to my mind, totally unnecessary. What on earth are we fighting about, anyway?’

  ‘Everyone I talk to is asking that very same thing,’ said Maddy quietly.

  Freddie shook his head sadly. ‘Obviously it’s because we must put an end to tyranny,’ he said, answering his own question. ‘We can’t let the bullies win, Maddy. That’s what Kaiser Wilhelm has become, and all his troops… Although I daresay a good number of them wonder what it’s all about. Queen Victoria would be turning in her grave if she knew what a monster her grandson has turned into. When her sons and daughters were married off to foreign royalty it was with the intention of keeping the peace between the nations. And Edward the Seventh; he was know
n as the Peacemaker, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, war is a dreadful thing,’ agreed Maddy. ‘But we want the world to be a safe place for Amy to grow up in, don’t we?’

  ‘That’s what it’s all about for me,’ said Freddie. He held her close for a moment in a fond embrace. ‘Try not to worry, darling… I’ll see you at teatime.’

  Freddie was duly signed up to join a battalion of the West Yorkshire Regiment and after passing his medical examination he was sent for training, quite soon, to a camp near to the city of York.

  Several of the other men of the Moon family were to follow him into the army before long.

  ‘I’m missing him dreadfully,’ Maddy told her best friend and stepsister Jessie, when she called to see her and her little son, Gregory, one afternoon in late February. Freddie had been gone for two weeks. ‘I have to try and keep cheerful though, for Amy’s sake; and my father and Aunt Faith don’t want an old misery-guts living with them. In a way, I suppose it’s better that we’re living here with them, now that Freddie has gone, rather than Amy and me being on our own.’

  ‘They’re glad to have you,’ said Jessie. ‘It will be quite a while, won’t it, before you are able to move back to Eastborough?’

  ‘I’m not even thinking about it,’ replied Maddy. ‘The place is boarded up and we just have to wait our turn. It’s a shame about the shop, though. I really do miss all that; serving in the shop and meeting people, and doing my dressmaking. Although I’m still running the dressmaking business from here. Aunt Faith said I could do the fittings here, and I’ve got my sewing machine; luckily it wasn’t damaged. And Aunt Faith has offered to sell the baby clothes that Emily knits in Moon’s Modes. I think that’s really kind of her.’

  ‘Yes, Mother is eager to do all she can to help,’ said Jessie. ‘I know she’s on tenterhooks, though, at the moment, in case Tommy should take it into his head to enlist. Your Freddie going has started the ball rolling. You know that Samuel has signed on, don’t you? And of course Mother is upset about that.’

  ‘Yes, so I’ve heard,’ said Maddy. ‘And Bertram as well. Tommy hasn’t actually said anything about joining up, has he? Although I know he and Dominic are still training like mad with their ATC. But they are both supposed to be going to university in September. I shouldn’t think the army – the powers that be, I mean – would want to interfere with the young men’s university training, would they?’

  ‘Who knows?’ said Jessie. ‘I only know that if our Tommy gets a bee in his bonnet about something there’s no stopping him. And what Tommy says, Dominic will follow, and vice versa. Tilly’s friendship with Dominic is still going strong, isn’t it?’

  ‘So it seems,’ agreed Maddy. ‘Tilly is very quiet, as you know. She keeps herself to herself, but there is a glint in her eyes these days and a dreamy smile that makes me think she’s in love.’

  ‘For the first time,’ said Jessie. ‘She’s led quite a sheltered existence and hasn’t had very much to do with young men. There’s no knowing who she might meet when she gets out into the world. Dominic is her first boyfriend.’

  ‘So what?’ smiled Maddy. ‘Didn’t you marry the first man you fell in love with?’

  ‘Yes, so I did.’ Jessie smiled back at her. ‘Although I did go to secretarial college and I worked for a while before I got married. Our Tilly is still at school. But you are right; Arthur is the only man I’ve ever been in love with. He was my one and only boyfriend.’ Jessie had met Arthur Newsome at the local cycling club where a shared interest had drawn them together.

  Maddy smiled ruefully. ‘I can’t say that, can I? Freddie wasn’t the first for me… But I’m really glad that he was the one I married.’ Her thoughts flew, momentarily, to Daniel, the first young man she had loved – and then lost to the more persuasive powers of his religion. She seldom thought of him now, so contented and fulfilled had she been in her marriage to Freddie.

  ‘You must be feeling relieved, Jessie,’ she went on, changing the subject, ‘finding out that Arthur doesn’t have to go.’

  ‘I have mixed feelings about it,’ replied Jessie. ‘Of course I’m pleased, in a way, but I’m trying to see it through Arthur’s eyes. He feels that he’s been rejected, that he’s not good enough, and he’s finding it hard to come to terms with at the moment. “Flat feet!” he keeps moaning. “Fancy being turned down because I’ve got flat feet.” I must admit I didn’t understand it at first, until he explained to me that if you have flat feet it means you can’t march, and so you’re not much use in the army.’

  ‘That wasn’t the only reason, though, was it?’

  ‘No,’ said Jessie. ‘It was his eyesight, and I suppose that was the real reason he failed the medical. He’s very short-sighted, you know, and he’s worn spectacles since he was a small boy to cure his astigmatism.’

  ‘Patrick is champing at the bit, too,’ said Maddy. ‘But Father says he can’t be spared from the business, especially as Joe Black has already volunteered and is waiting to go. It’s not the sort of job that anyone can do without training. They’ve taken on a young lad recently, though, who’s not left school very long. He seems to be taking to it quite well. Our Patrick’s been in the business since he left school, of course. He was only thirteen, but he’s never had any qualms about being an undertaker.’

  ‘Mmm…’ Jessie shuddered a little and changed the subject. ‘So…how long do you think it will be before Freddie’s battalion are sent overseas? I suppose that will happen eventually, won’t it?’

  ‘Yes; that’s what they’re training for. I don’t think they know how long it will be; a month or two, I suppose. No doubt he’ll be given leave to come home before that happens. He’s missing us all, of course, and his home comforts – that goes without saying – but he seems quite contented, if his letters are anything to go by. The training is tough, he says, but he seems to be standing up to the strain pretty well. He’s quite a lot older than a lot of them, you see. There’s a group of lads from Bradford; not more than seventeen years old, he says, and some, he suspects, might have lied about their age to get in.’

  ‘Yes…the foolish young lads,’ said Jessie, ‘but no doubt they’re seeing it as a great adventure. Excitement, you know; the chance to go abroad and the glamour of wearing a uniform. And there’s been a good deal of talk about patriotism and serving King and Country. I don’t suppose life is terribly exciting for a lot of those young men in Bradford, working long hours in the mills for what must be a very low wage. And not everyone is fortunate enough to have a nice home like we have, are they, Maddy?’

  ‘That’s true,’ agreed Maddy. ‘I know you and I have a lot to be thankful for, and we should remember to count our blessings… That was what my mam used to tell me,’ she added, smiling reminiscently.

  ‘Count your blessings, name them one by one, and it will surprise you what the Lord has done,’ she sang quietly. ‘An old Methodist hymn, that. Grandad Isaac was always singing it.’

  ‘Well, I only hope the good Lord is in control now,’ said Jessie. ‘Forgive me if you think I’m being blasphemous, but it makes you wonder at times, doesn’t it? What on earth is the point of fighting?’

  ‘Freddie and I were saying exactly the same thing when he told me he was enlisting,’ said Maddy. ‘Perhaps, one day, we might understand… Come on now, we’re getting morbid. Let’s talk about something more cheerful… I had a letter from Percy the other day,’ she continued, in a more light-hearted tone. ‘The Melody Makers are managing to carry on with their tour in spite of everything, and they’re getting pretty good audiences. Folk are wanting to forget their troubles for a little while, I suppose, and there’s no better tonic than a jolly good laugh and a sing.’

  ‘Have any of the artistes joined up?’ enquired Jessie.

  ‘Only Jeremy Jarvis; you know, the ventriloquist,’ replied Maddy. ‘He’s about the same age as Freddie. His wife, Dora, is still with them though. It’s helping her to take her mind off Jeremy being away. The rest of the com
pany are considerably older, of course. And any new members they recruit would have to be those who are unable to join up, for one reason or another.’

  ‘What about Barney and Benjy? They’re not all that old, surely. Are they still with the company?’

  ‘Yes, as far as I know. No one seems sure what age they are; it’s a mystery… But I can’t really imagine them in the army, can you?’

  Jessie laughed. ‘No, not at all. But I expect they’re just as patriotic as the rest of us. What about the summer season here? Do you think Uncle Percy’s Pierrots will be performing here as usual?’

  ‘Who can tell?’ said Maddy. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see.’

  ‘Yes, life is just one long wait–and-see at the moment, isn’t it?’ Jessie smiled. ‘It’s what Mother used to say to me when I was a little girl, “We’ll have to wait and see.” And it’s what I find myself saying to Gregory.’

  Amy and Gregory had been playing peaceably – though not all that quietly – together, building towers with wooden building blocks whilst their mothers were talking. They had both turned three now, Amy being just a month older than Gregory, their birthdays being in January and February respectively. Maddy and Jessie spoke of them as being cousins, although they were really not blood relations at all. It was too complicated to work out what their real relationship was, but it was of no consequence. They appeared at this moment to be getting on as well together as their mothers had always done.

  They made a pleasing picture. Amy had inherited the dark hair of her father, and, possibly, her Uncle Patrick rather than her mother’s fair colouring; whereas Gregory was the image of his mother, with the same vivid ginger hair and bright blue eyes.

  Both young women laughed as Amy accidentally knocked down Gregory’s high tower. Then as a square brick caught him on the cheek and his face began to pucker up, the little girl dashed across and kissed him on the cheek.