Fairfield Hall

by Margaret Dickinson

  James spoke eloquently, his obvious love for the army life dripping from every word. His patriotism shone through and even Ben, who heartily disliked the man, could not help but feel a grudging admiration for such dedication. Even before James had finished speaking, young men were pushing their way to the front of the crowd and mounting the steps into the town hall to ‘take the King’s shilling’. Each one was greeted with a roar of approval from the crowd. Right at the back, unseen by anyone who knew them, Theo, Bertie and Charlie stood together. Charlie had driven in with his grandfather, who was at this moment pushing his way through the throng to speak to Ben.

  ‘What do you think, old chap? Shall we do it?’ Theo murmured to Bertie, hoping that Charlie would not hear.

  ‘Not now. Not here. Your uncle would try to stop you, though’ – Bertie laughed ruefully – ‘I doubt he’d make the same effort for me.’

  ‘Right then, we’ll go to Lincoln. End of next week all right for you – at the crack of dawn on Friday morning? Will Mr Broughton let you have time off, d’you think, without asking too many questions?’

  ‘I’ll try. Where do we have to go?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Probably the barracks on Burton Road. I’ll pick you up in the brougham. I’ll drive us there.’

  Behind them, keeping very still and quiet so as not to draw attention to himself, Charlie listened to every word.

  Another officer was now addressing the crowd and James was standing at the back, his gaze roaming over the gathering. His glance, trained to observe, picked out Ben Jackson standing with another man. And pushing his way towards them and greeting them both with a clap on the shoulder was an older man. James squinted. He couldn’t be sure, for he had only met him once at the wedding, but he thought the old man was Annabel’s grandfather. So, he thought, Jackson was not only still in the area, but also in contact with Annabel at the very least. No doubt they were still lovers, James thought morosely.

  Any thoughts of reconciliation died in that instant and he resolved to do what his sister asked and begin proceedings – if it were possible – to disinherit Annabel’s son. But his intentions were swept aside when Jenkins met him on the driveway on his return to Fairfield Hall.

  ‘We’re to return to barracks at once, sir.’

  Sixty-Two

  ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  Theo and Bertie gaped at Charlie who grinned back at them. ‘I’ve come to join up, of course.’

  ‘Oh no, you haven’t,’ Theo exploded. ‘You’re only sixteen.’

  ‘I’m seventeen next month and I’ll tell them I’m nearly eighteen. They’ll take me then. They’ve taken Eddie Cartwright and he’s only a year older than me.’

  The two older boys glanced at each other, their faces grim. ‘Well, we’ll tell ’em,’ Theo said. ‘We’ll tell the officer you’re only sixteen.’

  ‘We’re not going to let you enlist, Charlie,’ Bertie said softly. ‘Your mam’d flay us alive if she found out we’d not stopped you.’ They glanced at each other again, their shared affection for Annabel surfacing. ‘And we – we can’t bear to think of her being upset.’

  ‘What about your mams?’

  ‘Don’t, Charlie. Don’t remind us. We’ve got to go. We’re twenty-two and twenty-three. We’ve no choice.

  ‘Yes, you have,’ Charlie countered, determined not to be outdone. ‘You work the land. They’re saying that maybe farm workers won’t have to go. At least you could wait until they bring in conscription – if they do.’

  ‘Oh, it’ll not get to that,’ Theo declared confidently.

  Bertie’s mouth was a thin, determined line as he muttered, ‘We’re going anyway.’

  ‘Then so am I. I want to be a soldier like my father. I want to make him proud of me.’ They stared at Charlie as he added falteringly, ‘Even if he doesn’t think I’m his.’

  Theo squeezed Charlie’s shoulder. ‘We all know you’re his son, Charlie. He’s a fool to even think . . .’ His voice faded away. He was treading on dangerous ground. He sighed as he said flatly, ‘Come on, then. We’ll join up together. Maybe they’ll let us stay together – after all, we are first cousins – and we can keep an eye on you.’

  ‘Wait a minute. Let’s think this through,’ Bertie said.

  ‘Why? What’s the matter?’ They were already standing outside the barracks in the city.

  ‘If we go in here, we all might get stopped. This is the headquarters – or whatever they call it – of the Lincolnshire Regiment, isn’t it?’

  ‘I expect so. That’s what we want to join, isn’t it?’ Theo was mystified by Bertie’s sudden reluctance.

  ‘Well, yes, but as soon as they hear the name “Lyndon”, somebody is going to recognize it.’

  ‘Oh, I understand,’ Theo said catching on quickly.

  ‘I don’t,’ Charlie said.

  They both turned to face him. ‘They’ll all know of your father. He’s an officer. They’ll not let you join for fear of reprisals from him.’

  ‘And they’ll likely know about me, too,’ Theo said. ‘I bet they’d make enquiries before they let me join.’

  ‘And my middle name’s Lyndon,’ Bertie added.

  ‘So – what can we do?’

  The three young men were quiet for a moment before Charlie brightened as he said, ‘Would Grimsby be far enough away, d’you think?’

  ‘Grimsby? Why Grimsby?’

  ‘They’re forming a new battalion there. I know because it was in my mother’s newspaper. You know she was from Grimsby originally, don’t you?’ The other two glanced at each other and then shook their heads. ‘My other grandparents still live there, I expect, though I never see them. My grandfather is a big trawler owner.’

  ‘Never!’ Theo exclaimed.

  ‘Constantine,’ Charlie told them. ‘You must have heard of him.’

  Theo’s eyes widened. ‘He’s Aunt Annabel’s father. Good heavens! Fancy that, and I never knew.’

  ‘He’s a big name in Grimsby now. Owns a whole fleet of trawlers. Anyway,’ Charlie went on, returning to their original conversation, ‘the newspaper said that the Mayor has posted notices throughout the town calling on the men of Grimsby to volunteer for a new battalion. Evidently, he has Kitchener’s authority. We’d still be part of the Lincolnshire Regiment, but it would be a brand-new battalion and we’d be unlikely to run into anyone connected with my father.’

  ‘What do you think?’ Bertie said, looking at Theo.

  ‘Sounds like a good idea to me, unless, of course, your name would be known there – because of your grandfather, I mean. Would he try to stop you going if he found out?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Charlie said bitterly and he explained how Ambrose Constantine had refused to have anything more to do with his daughter and grandson when she had been forced to leave Fairfield Hall. ‘Even if he heard about it, I don’t think he’d be interested enough to interfere. He’s never had anything to do with us. I can’t remember ever meeting him, though I’ve seen pictures of him in the newspaper.’

  Theo and Bertie said nothing but they were both thinking how unfairly the woman they called Aunt Annabel had been treated, and not only by the Lyndons, it seemed.

  ‘Come on, then, if we’re going. Let’s get the dirty deed done,’ Bertie said.

  They travelled to Grimsby together and found that they had to report to the Municipal College near to the Town Hall. They were to be part of a newly formed ‘pals’ battalion’. Lord Kitchener had given his blessing to the formation of such battalions from volunteers from a particular place or background with the belief that soldiers with a common bond would fight side by side, drawing a sense of security from friendships forged. So the three cousins were welcomed when they introduced themselves as such. In turn, they stepped forward to give their particulars. Just as they had feared, when the name Lyndon was spoken, a portly, civilian gentleman, standing behind the recruiting officer, moved forward. He had a curling moustache and was dressed in a smart black sui
t and bowler hat and sported a gold watch chain looped across his chest.

  ‘What name did you say?’ the man barked.

  Before Charlie could answer, the captain said, ‘Lyndon, Mr Constantine. Why, is there a problem?’

  The man stared at Charlie, who, though his heart was beating rapidly, returned his gaze steadily, squaring his shoulders and standing tall. To Charlie’s chagrin, it was not his grandfather who argued that the boy was underage, but Bertie, who stepped forward and said, ‘He’s only sixteen, sir, not eighteen.’

  The captain glanced at Bertie and narrowed his eyes. ‘Trying to get your cousin out of volunteering, are you? You’d have him believed a coward, would you?’

  ‘No, sir, but—’

  ‘Then stand back and wait your turn.’

  Red-faced, Bertie turned away. Their only hope to have Charlie refused now lay with the man still staring at the boy.

  The officer now turned back to the older man. ‘Mr Constantine – is there a problem?’

  Slowly, Ambrose shook his head. ‘No – no problem. Sign him up.’

  Charlie beamed with delight at him, but the older man turned away without acknowledging him and left the room. Charlie watched him go with a slight feeling of disappointment that his grandfather had not even spoken directly to him. But he was not surprised to see the man present at the recruiting centre; it was just the sort of thing in which Ambrose Constantine, who regarded himself as a pillar of the local community, would involve himself.

  Charlie pondered whether or not he should tell his mother that he had seen him, but decided against it. Annabel might see it as a way of preventing his enlistment.

  As they stepped out of the hall a little while later, slightly bemused by everything that had happened so quickly, Bertie said softly, ‘And now, I suppose we’d better all go home and face the music.’

  ‘Then we’ll face it all together,’ Theo said firmly. Bertie and Charlie glanced at each other. Whilst they’d be glad to have Theo’s company when they broke the news to their respective families, neither of them had any wish to be present when Theo confronted Lady Dorothea.

  They went first to Meadow View Farm.

  ‘Better get the worst one over with first,’ Theo said.

  ‘Why’s this going to be the worst?’ Charlie asked. ‘I’d’ve thought facing your mother would be far worse. She’ll go off like a rocket.’

  ‘No, no, I’d far rather face my mother than Aunt Annabel right at this moment.’

  They found her in the kitchen of the farmhouse kneading bread, whilst her grandmother sat dozing near the range.

  ‘Oh, how lovely to see you all,’ Annabel exclaimed, dusting the flour from her hands. But then she caught sight of their serious faces and realized that this was no ordinary visit. Jane, coming in from the pantry, smiled at the visitors and hurried to make tea for them all.

  ‘Where’s Gramps?’ Charlie asked. He had always called his great-grandparents by the same names that his mother did.

  ‘In the front room, having an afternoon nap.’ Annabel’s glance was searching their faces, but she could not guess why they had come. She would never have dreamed of the real reason.

  ‘I’ll get him,’ Jane offered, sensing that Charlie wanted everyone together. Perhaps she, with brothers of the right age for volunteering, had already half guessed.

  A few moments later, yawning and stretching, Edward appeared in the kitchen. ‘Hello, lads, what brings you here?’ he began and then suddenly his face sobered. He knew at once why they were here.

  ‘Sit down, all of you,’ he said quietly. ‘Annabel, my lovely, leave your bread making and let’s hear what they’ve to say for themselves.’

  ‘I’ve joined up, Gramps,’ Charlie blurted out, his gaze on the old man’s face rather than on his mother’s. He dared not, at this moment, meet her eyes.

  Edward sighed heavily. ‘Aye, I thought as much.’

  In her chair, Martha made a little noise in her throat and then covered her face with her apron.

  ‘Joined up?’ Annabel’s voice was a strangled whisper. ‘But – but you can’t, Charlie. You’re not old enough.’ Wildly, she searched the faces of the other two young men. ‘Why didn’t you stop him?’

  Theo felt her words like a shaft through his heart and Bertie couldn’t stop the tears from smarting his eyes.

  ‘We tried, Aunt Annabel,’ Theo said. ‘Truly we did, but when we saw he was adamant, we thought the best thing to do would be to join up all together. That way we might be able to stay together. We’ll keep an eye on him.’

  ‘You mustn’t blame Theo or Bertie, Mother,’ Charlie said. ‘If you want to blame anyone, then it’s my father’s fault.’

  ‘Your – your father?’ Now Annabel was bewildered as well as distraught at the news.

  ‘I was there when he spoke at the rally in town. He spoke with such – such fervour. Everyone was swept along in a tide of patriotism. You couldn’t help but be moved by his words.’

  Annabel blinked. She had no reply to this. Soldiering was in Charlie’s blood whether she liked it or not. She turned to Theo and Bertie, who were looking stricken by her words. She reached out a trembling hand to them. ‘I’m sorry, my dears. Of course it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘We do feel responsible, though,’ Theo murmured. ‘We should have insisted to the sergeant that he was underage.’

  ‘I tried,’ Bertie said, glancing apologetically at Charlie. ‘But it made no difference. The man just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Trying to get him out of serving his country, are you?” and I knew then it was no use. They were going to take him anyway.’

  ‘You’re not to blame yourselves,’ Edward, his voice husky, tried to reassure them. Then he turned to his great-grandson. ‘I don’t know what to say to you, my boy. I’ve got very mixed feelings. I don’t want you to go and yet I’m proud of you. Very proud of you all. Just mind you keep your heads down and look out for each other. That’s all I ask.’

  Now the three of them could promise that wholeheartedly.

  Strangely, it was easier to deal with Dorothea’s hysterical anger than with Annabel’s quiet acceptance and Nancy’s weeping. Bertie had hugged his mother and grandmother but nothing could make it any better, not their promises to take care of each other or to write regularly. In the minds of both Nancy and Agnes their boy was already lost to them.

  Dorothea stormed and fumed and threatened, but Theo faced her stoically.

  ‘I’ll get James home. He’ll put a stop to this nonsense. He’ll pull strings. And what on earth have you brought them here for?’

  ‘We’re going together, Mama. Three cousins, side by side, fighting the enemy.’

  ‘Cousins! Of course you’re not cousins, he’s Jackson’s by-blow. How you’ve the nerve to bring him into this house, I don’t know! You’ll be wanting to take them both to meet your grandmother next.’

  Theo smiled and said softly, ‘I hadn’t thought of that, Mama, but that’s a very good idea.’

  ‘Don’t you dare, Theodore!’

  But Theo had already turned away and was leading the way through the house to his grandmother’s room, whilst his mother found a pen and some paper and hastily scribbled the wording for a telegram. Then she rang the bell, almost pulling the cord from its holder in her desperation.

  Sixty-Three

  Because the formation of the new battalion was done in haste, the early training was rather haphazard and the men were billeted in different areas. At first, there were no proper uniforms or rifles, so it wasn’t until two months after the three cousins had volunteered that a camp was established at Brocklesby, where the men would live in huts and have enough space to train together properly. At last they had uniforms, although at first they were not the real military khaki that the 10th Lincolnshire Regiment would eventually wear, but surplus Post Office uniforms. However, it gave the men a feeling of being a unit at last. Quite soon the new pals’ battalion became known as
the ‘Grimsby Chums’. They were all from the same area, all from Lincolnshire; they had a common bond and they became ‘chums’ in the truest sense of the word. They were ready to fight together for their home town, their home county, their country and they were prepared to die together.

  ‘Brocklesby,’ Annabel murmured when she heard the news of the training camp being set up, ‘I wonder . . .’

  ‘What, Mother?’ Charlie asked, but she only shook her head and said, ‘Oh nothing, Charlie. Nothing at all.’

  The 10th Battalion now numbered one thousand men and, two months after the first notices had appeared asking for volunteers, the men marched proudly out of Grimsby towards Brocklesby parkland, their new home for the next few months, to bands playing and cheering townsfolk lining the street. Formal training now began under the leadership of ‘old soldiers’ from the Boer War, but there was time for games and sports too; football and boxing matches were particularly popular pitting Company against Company in friendly, yet quite serious, combat.

  ‘They say we’ll get leave whilst we’re training,’ Theo said. ‘So we’ll be able to get home quite often. That’ll keep our mothers happy at least.’

  ‘But when are we going to the Front?’ Bertie fretted. ‘It’ll all be over before we get there at this rate.’

  But, of course, the war was not over by Christmas as had been expected and the 10th Battalion began to realize that before long they would have the chance to see action. Theo, Bertie and Charlie were in A Company. They trained together, ate together and slept in the same hut and could quite truthfully say to Annabel every time they went home, ‘We’re still together, still looking out for each other.’