It was probably Dominic, more than any of the others, who felt the absence of Tommy very keenly. His best mate – his new wife’s twin brother – would normally have been his best man. The honour had fallen instead to Patrick, Tilly’s stepbrother, who filled the position very ably. And it was Patrick, with his ready wit and sense of fun, who was able to inject a light-hearted feel to the proceedings, so that any poignant or sad recollections were soon set aside.
‘Please raise your glasses and drink to the health and happiness of Tilly and Dominic,’ he proclaimed at the end of the sumptuous feast.
The meal had once more attained Mrs Baker’s high standards, despite the wartime restrictions. Chicken, ham and tongue, purchased from an understanding butcher, made tasty sandwiches, accompanied by home-made chutney, salad and pickles. The huge trifle was topped with real fresh cream, which also filled the assortment of eclairs, meringues and fairy cakes. The pièce de résistance was the wedding cake; two tiers covered with royal icing, rich and dark on the inside, with an abundance of dried fruit that had been stored over several months in the kitchen cupboards, awaiting this special occasion.
‘It was a happy and fortuitous day…’ Patrick told the guests, pausing for a moment to add, ‘That’s a big word, isn’t it? I had to look it up in the dictionary. I thought it fitted this auspicious occasion…and there’s another one for you!’ he said to the accompaniment of friendly laughter and shouts of, ‘Get on with it, Patrick!’
‘Now…where was I? Yes, I was about to say it was a lucky day – that’s what it means, really – it was a lucky day when my father married my lovely stepmother, Faith, and the Moon and the Barraclough families became one. I acquired a whole new family, no less than four brothers and sisters, one of whom, of course, is my lovely sister, Tilly… She’s called Matilda, really,’ he added in a loud whisper, ‘but she doesn’t answer to it. She is, quite simply, our wonderful Tilly, and I know that all you lads here have reason to be thankful for the skill and sympathy she has shown in nursing you.’
There were shouts of, ‘Hear hear!’ and ‘Good old Tilly!’ from all parts of the room.
‘And I know that Dominic has got himself a wife in a million. We are delighted to welcome Dominic, our new brother-in-law, into our family. And all I have to say now is…may all their troubles be little ones!’ He concluded his speech to laughs and derisory jeers at the age-old, somewhat hackneyed joke. There was no honeymoon as such for the newly married couple, that is to say, they did not go away for a holiday. But they were to move, that very night, into their new home that had once belonged to Hetty and Bertram. Hetty had left the furniture and fittings for them to use for the time being. When Hetty moved, in due course, into a home of her own, Tilly and Dominic would furnish the flat with items of their own choice. For the moment, though, they were more than happy to have a home ready to move into without any worries.
The sale of the property had been completed speedily, but the proposed bookshop was not yet open. Dominic, at the present time, was busy ordering stock, whilst a firm of joiners was at work doing the necessary renovations.
Tilly, of course, would carry on with her nursing career, spending some of her nights with her husband in her new home, but continuing with her night duties at the convalescent home as before. She had insisted that she should be given no concessions, except for the couple of days they had all agreed she must have as a bride.
‘Well, Mrs Fraser…we’ve waited a long time for this,’ Dominic said to her as they stood in their new bedroom, regarding one another lovingly but, it must be said, solemnly and a little apprehensively, on Tilly’s part, at any rate.
Then, ‘Come here, my darling,’ he said. His arms were around her and he was kissing her in the way that was so familiar to her. What was there to fear? This was her own dear Dominic…
Their lovemaking was rapturous, if a trifle immature and inexperienced. Tilly knew that for Dominic, as well as for herself, it was the first time. But they had all the time in the world, she mused, as she snuggled close to him. This was the best part of all, to be there with him and to know that they need never be apart again.
Priscilla was delighted at the marriage of her dear cousin, Dominic, and his lovely lady friend. She was very fond of both of them, but she had another reason to be happy during that summer of 1917. She had been corresponding with Jack Smollett ever since he had returned to his home in Hexham. She had wondered if he was just being polite when he promised to write to her, and she feared that after a time his letters might become less frequent or stop altogether. But this was not so at all. She received a letter from him almost every week in reply to her own, because she did, of course, write regularly. What was more, she noticed that he was now writing the letters himself, using his left hand. She remembered how frustrated he had been during his stay at the home, complaining that he was useless and that he would never be able to overcome the loss of his right hand. She knew how much perseverance and sheer hard work it must have taken for him to reach the standard of handwriting that his letters now showed. Admittedly, it was not perfect; it was rather like the efforts of a schoolboy when first attempting to do ‘real writing’. But it was legible and carefully formed and she felt very proud of him.
At first someone had helped him with his correspondence, his sister or brother, she assumed. But now his letters were becoming more personal and that was the reason, she surmised, that he had been determined to write them on his own. Knowing Jack as she did, as a private sort of person, she knew he would not want anyone else to be aware of his deeper feelings. And this brought a warmth to her heart and a glow to her cheeks that she found hard to hide each time she received a letter from him. Not that there had, as yet, been any mention of love. He did say, though, that he was missing her very much and how he remembered the chats they had enjoyed about all manner of things.
He told her, too, that he had returned to his work in the colliery office. He was particularly useful, he wrote, for answering the telephone, running errands and making the tea! And he did not seem to mind having the status of a glorified office boy. But his writing skill was improving; he was also able to use a typewriter with one hand, and he hoped in time to be as proficient as he had been before, especially as he was now in the process of being fitted with an artificial hand and arm. That would be another obstacle to overcome, but she felt sure he would do it.
And now, the week after the wedding, Jack had written to ask her if she would go and visit him at his home in Hexham. He wrote that his parents were looking forward to meeting her, and could she possibly stay for a few days? Faith was only too happy to comply when Priscilla asked her – very diffidently – for a short period of leave. She told her to take the whole week, which was no more than she deserved.
‘I’m so happy for your cousin,’ Tilly said to her husband. ‘I would never have believed, that first time I met her, that she could change so much. She was so downtrodden, poor girl, but she has really blossomed. Mostly due to Jack, of course. Oh, I do so hope everything works out well for her. She deserves a bit of happiness.’
‘It’s not just Jack that has been responsible for the change in Priscilla,’ said Dominic. ‘You’ve had an awful lot to do with it, darling. You told her she must stick up for herself, didn’t you? And I know she’s tried to emulate you in lots of ways, to follow your example, because she admires you so much.’
‘I can’t think why,’ laughed Tilly. ‘I would rather she tried to be herself instead of copying me. Actually, I don’t agree with what you just said, Dominic, not entirely. I think Priscilla is becoming very much her own person… Oh, wouldn’t it be lovely if she came back engaged to be married?’
And that, indeed, was what happened. When Priscilla returned a few days later she was proudly wearing a diamond ring, three smallish stones set in platinum.
‘Guess what?’ she cried in delight to Tilly, who was the first person she sought out when returning to the home. ‘Jack has asked me to marry him, and
I said yes! Oh, Tilly, I’m so happy!’
‘And you deserve to be. I’m happy for you, too,’ said Tilly, hugging her. ‘Now, tell me all about it…’
They sat together on Tilly’s bed, the one she used when she stayed the night at the home, and Priscilla told her about the wonderful few days she had spent with Jack in Hexham.
‘It’s such a picturesque little town,’ she enthused. ‘The scenery is beautiful in Northumberland; wild and rugged, though, and I’m sure it gets very cold in the winter, but that won’t matter, will it…?’
She said how welcome Jack’s elderly parents had made her, and how they had told her that they were very glad when his friendship with Doris had come to an end. Priscilla and Jack planned to marry next spring; there was no point in waiting till the end of the war, as Jack, thankfully, would never have to return to the conflict.
‘And of course we will live in Hexham after we’re married,’ said Priscilla. ‘It’s where Jack’s work is, so it’s what we must do. We may live with his parents at first; we haven’t decided yet…’ Her voice faltered a little as she went on to say, ‘All I have to do now is tell my parents…’
‘Don’t they know where you’ve been?’ asked Tilly. ‘Haven’t you told them about Jack?’
‘Yes…but I rather think they believe he’s just a friend. Well, I didn’t really know myself, did I, until recently, that he was…rather more than that.’ The blush that came to Priscilla’s cheeks and the glow in her eyes made her look very pretty indeed.
‘Don’t worry,’ she added, ‘I shall pluck up courage and tell them.’ Priscilla smiled. ‘I shall be thirty in the not too distant future. If I don’t make my own decisions now, then I never will…’
There were a few harsh words at first and tears from Maud Fortescue at the foolishness and ingratitude of her daughter, ‘going off to marry a man that you hardly know!’
But Maud came round in the end, mainly at the persuasion of Mabel and Joseph Fraser, who told her she was wrong to oppose her daughter; that she had no grounds for doing so anyway as Priscilla was well past the age of needing her parents’ consent. Priscilla’s father had not been so much against it, but as always he was wary of upsetting his wife.
The wedding, in the April of the following year, 1918, took place at the Baptist church in Scarborough, where Mr and Mrs Fortescue – and Priscilla, though less frequently now – had worshipped for many years. Scarborough was chosen as the venue, rather than Hexham, as Priscilla’s relations and friends – a goodly number since she had been working at the convalescent home – all wished to be there. It was fitting, too, that this reception, like the one for Tilly and Dominic, should be held at the New Moon home, as it was the place where Priscilla and Jack had met. As for the patients now in the home, there were none still there whom Jack remembered, but all the staff were pleased to see him again, looking so well and happy.
Jack’s few relations, including his elderly parents, had made the journey to Yorkshire for the wedding, and they returned, together with the newly-weds, after it was all over.
‘Your daughter will be very much missed here,’ Faith told Priscilla’s parents. ‘We are all very fond of her, and so are the men she looked after. You should be very proud of her.’
‘And so we are,’ replied Cedric Fortescue stoutly. ‘Aren’t we, Maud?’
‘Yes…’ agreed his wife, in a mournful voice, wiping away a stray tear. ‘We’re all on our own now. But we lost her, of course, when she came to work here. That’s what happens, though, in wartime; one has to make sacrifices.’
‘Indeed…’ said Faith, feeling a spasm of pain, all too familiar to her, in the region of her heart. The woman, no doubt, had not given heed to what she was saying. Faith was sure that Maud wasn’t meaning to be unkind or even tactless. But all the same, the unthinking words hurt her. Her dear Tommy had made the ultimate sacrifice, and though the agony had eased a little, the slightest remark could bring it all back again. Memories of Tommy would always be there, but Faith hoped that in time they would be able to smile, rather than be sad, at thoughts of him.
The end of the war, when it finally came, took everyone by surprise; it had seemed as though it might continue for ever. Bulgaria surrendered at the end of September, and a month later the Turkish armies followed suit. On October 31st Germany appealed for an armistice – an agreement to stop fighting and a negotiated peace – and the peace talks began. Three days later Austria also signed the armistice. On November 9th the Kaiser abdicated and a republic was declared in Germany. The surrender took place in a railway carriage at Compeigne. Marshal Foch accepted the German surrender and at 11 a.m. the guns fell silent all over Europe.
There was much rejoicing at the end of what was now being called the Great War, but soon the people of Britain began to count the cost. Almost a million of Britain’s men had been killed in the terrible conflict; many thousands of families had reason to mourn as well as give thanks.
Faith Moon realised that she and her family had a great deal for which to be thankful, despite the irreparable loss of both Tommy and Bertram. Indeed, there could scarcely be a family in the land that had not suffered a comparable loss.
By the beginning of 1919 almost all the servicemen had returned home, including Samuel and Freddie from the army, and Arthur from the ambulance service. Maddy and Jessie were more thankful than words could say that their husbands were back home again, sound in body and spirit, although there was unseen damage to the minds of both of them, scars that would take a long time to heal, left behind by the unspeakable sights they had seem, images that would never be entirely forgotten.
Maddy, Freddie and Amy moved back into their home at the bottom end of Eastborough, which had been restored following the shell damage early in the war. Arthur, Jessie and Gregory once again had their home in the South Bay to themselves, as Hetty had found and purchased a small house of her own on the North Bay. It was time, she said, for her and Angie to be independent again. Now that the New Moon home had ceased to function she would take up her work once more in charge of her father’s office.
Freddie and Arthur, after a period of recuperation, went back to the jobs they had done before the war, Freddie as a bank clerk and Arthur to his former position in the family firm of solicitors.
As Faith had already gathered from his letters, Samuel was the one who seemed to be the most changed by his war experiences, and it was a change for the better. He had formerly had his own flat in Leeds, where he was a lecturer in Geology at the university there. However, on leaving the army, Scarborough was the place to which he returned, to the home of his mother and stepfather. Faith was amazed, but delighted, when he asked if he could make his home with them. He would be able to have his own quarters as there was ample room now in the former convalescent home, that had once been two separate houses.
‘I’m sorry for all the discord there has been between us, William,’ Samuel said to his stepfather. ‘My fault entirely, but things will be different from now on. I think you will find that I am no longer the same person… I am truly sorry.’
‘We are more than pleased to have you back with us, my lad,’ said William, giving him a manly embrace. ‘It’s time for us all to start afresh.’
Faith was moved by the encounter and she felt a warmth in her heart that she had not known since hearing of Tommy’s death. She had lost one son, but the one who had been estranged from her for so long had now returned to the family fold.
Samuel relinquished his post at the university, and was appointed instead as a Science master at the grammar school in Scarborough. Faith, however, was a realist. She did not for a moment doubt Samuel’s sincerity in his desire to be reunited with his family but she suspected that coming to live in Scarborough might have something to do with his wanting to be near his daughter, Angela. And to his former lady love, Hetty, of course…
As time went on Faith had reason to believe that her intuition was correct. Hetty was keeping mum about the blossoming frien
dship – once bitten, twice shy, Faith supposed – but it was noticed that Samuel was a frequent visitor at Hetty’s home, and the three of them, just like a proper family, were sometimes seen out together.
The war was not believed by many to be over until the June of 1919 when the Treaty of Versailles was finally signed by Germany. Its terms were harsh; Germany was to lose former provinces to Poland, France and Denmark, to surrender her navy, destroy her warplanes, and keep only a small army of no more than a hundred thousand men. The Germans refused at first to sign, regarding the terms as unacceptable, but when threatened with occupation by Allied troops they were finally forced to give way. The Prime Minister, Lloyd George, however, gloomily predicted that there would be another war…
There were many who agreed with this depressing announcement.
‘Germany must feel humiliated,’ Dominic said to his wife. ‘It’s my belief that they won’t forget. They are being blamed for starting the war in the first place – which, of course, is true – and are being forced to admit to it. There may well come a time when they will take their revenge.’
‘Another war?’ said Tilly fearfully. ‘Surely not. It was supposed to be the war to end all wars, wasn’t it?’
Dominic nodded. ‘Well, maybe not in our lifetime,’ he said, more encouragingly. ‘Let’s hope not, anyway.’
Personally, they had a great deal for which to be thankful. They were busy furnishing and decorating their little home to their own taste. The bookshop had opened in the spring and was proving very popular with local people and with visitors to the town. Another reason for rejoicing was the news Dominic had received, only a few days earlier, that his novel had been accepted by a publisher in London. The book was called, quite simply, Nocturne, and told the story of love lost and found; of a young woman, who was a concert pianist, and a young fisherman, in a fishing village which bore quite a resemblance to Scarborough. There was no mention of war and fighting. Dominic hoped that it would bring a welcome touch of happiness and escapism after the horror of the war.
Until We Meet Again Page 31
