by Ellie Dean
Nipper had an enormous rat by the neck and was shaking it furiously, a vicious growl coming from deep within his throat – and strewn across the floor was an entire nest of savaged and very dead vermin.
‘Bloody hell,’ muttered Ida. ‘Grandad’s Patch was good, but not this good.’ She looked up at a stunned Jack and Millicent and grinned. ‘You got yerself a champion there – and I reckon you’ll be glad I stopped you from shooting ’im.’
‘I detest dogs,’ said Millicent with a grimace.
‘I detest rats more,’ snapped Jack, ‘so hush, woman, and be still. We’re keeping it.’
Millicent went puce, but for once held her tongue and stomped back into the farmhouse, slamming the door behind her.
‘Blimey, Jack, you done it now,’ muttered Maisie. ‘Yer in for a right ticking-off, and no mistake.’
‘You’m mind yer own business,’ he rumbled, ‘and get back to cleaning thar dairy.’
The girls scattered but Carol stayed where she was, terrified that Jack might still carry out his threat, and certainly not brave enough to go into the byre and grab the little dog, who continued to ferociously shake the squealing rat dangling from his mouth. She dithered by Jack, who leaned on the sturdy doorpost watching the last rat being despatched.
He gave a grunt of approval as the dog shook himself and pawed at his bloodstained muzzle. ‘What be’m name again?’ he muttered.
‘Nipper,’ said Carol as the little dog sat looking at her, bloody but unbowed and extremely pleased with himself.
‘How you’m got ’im then? Didn’t have no dog afore.’
‘I inherited him from Mrs Rayner.’
‘Oh, aye, I recall thar old biddy – tongue on her like acid when she taught school, and she didn’t change until she were in ’er box.’ Jack reached down and grasped Nipper by the scruff, and held him up to the light so he could have a proper look at him. ‘You’m be a fine rat-catcher, Nipper – and not a scratch on ye, neither. Reckon there’s a bob or two to be made out of you’m.’
‘What do you mean?’ Carol’s voice was high with anxiety.
‘Thar places down yonder will be running with vermin afore ye knows it,’ he replied, ‘and I reckons there’s many a farmer would spend good silver to ’ave this fine feller sort ’em out.’
‘But he’s my dog,’ Carol protested. ‘What if I don’t want to hire him out?’
‘You bain’t got much choice, girly,’ he replied with a sly gleam in his eyes. ‘Think on it as payment for his board and lodgings.’
‘But I don’t want him to turn vicious,’ said Carol. ‘He was a nice, friendly little dog before he got here, and I want him to stay that way.’
‘He’m be a Jack Russell,’ muttered Jack, cradling the dog and ruffling his blood-spattered ears. ‘Born in ’em, it is – shame to waste such a talent.’
Carol could see that Nipper had come to no harm, and if it meant there’d be no more threats to shoot or get rid of him, then she would have to compromise. She folded her arms and regarded Jack Burnley evenly. ‘If you’re so determined to hire him out, then I’ll decide when and how often. And I want half what he earns. A dog that size doesn’t eat much and takes up very little space – and I happen to know what old Keeper Bentley used to charge when he was the village rat-catcher.’
‘Not as daft as ye look, are ye?’ he muttered, the blue eyes warmed with humour. He dumped Nipper in her arms and stuck out his hand. ‘This be between thee and me, all right?’ he muttered. ‘The missus don’t need to know.’
She shook his hand. ‘If that’s how you want it, Jack, but she’s not stupid, and will soon …’ She giggled. ‘I was about to say she’d soon smell a rat.’
He smiled. ‘Aye, but we’ll keep her guessing for a while, eh?’ His smile broadened into a grin and his eyes twinkled. ‘It’s good to have ye back, Carol.’
She put the bloodstained Nipper back on the ground and held tightly to the leash. ‘It’s good to be back,’ she said, rather surprised by how true that statement was.
20
Cliffehaven
It was Christmas Eve and the children’s party had been a huge success, bolstered by the Americans providing wonderful food as well as music, and Ron playing his part of Father Christmas with great enthusiasm, Harvey at his side as always, his collar decorated with tinsel.
An overtired Daisy had been put to bed immediately they’d got home, and now Cordelia and the girls had banished Peggy from the dining room where, to the sound of dance music coming from the gramophone, they were putting up the decorations, setting the table and dressing the tree Ron had brought home that morning.
The air of excitement was almost tangible, for Cissy and Randy, her American flyer, had promised to do their best to come with Anne’s husband Martin and three of his RAF colleagues, including Rita’s young airman, Matthew Champion. Ivy’s fireman, Andy, would drop in at teatime after spending the day with his Aunt Gloria, who owned the Crown; Fran’s Robert was expected to arrive before lunch; and Rosie had sent over a crate of beer, a large tin of ham, a wonderfully iced cake, mince pies and a bottle of whisky with strict instructions to keep all of them away from Ron’s thieving hands until the following day.
There had been no word from Doris, which both annoyed and worried Peggy, but whether she came or not, the spirit of Christmas filled the house despite the absence of half the family. Dear little Sarah was proving to be very stoic in the light of her separation from her family, especially since her younger sister Jane had been refused leave to come home from her highly secretive posting with the MOD.
Peggy understood how tough these occasions must be for the girl and had silently vowed to ensure that Sarah had a marvellous day, knowing that the other girls were of the same mind. Bless them, she thought. They’re such lovely caring young things; all separated one way or another from their families, but still aware of poor Sarah’s needs.
She gave a pleasurable sigh as she settled in the fireside chair and listened to the laughter and music coming from the other room. She was positively brimming with anticipation, for not only did she have two gorgeous smoked salmon and two birds to put on the table alongside the chicken and tin of ham tomorrow, but there were parcels from Anne and Jim, and a host of lovely letters and cards which she’d managed to read twice already.
‘I’m not going to ask where the birds and fish came from,’ she said to Ron, who was busy plucking the pheasants under the watchful gaze of Queenie, ‘but of course I can guess. I suppose you took Frank with you?’
‘Aye, of course I did,’ he muttered.
‘I don’t know how you managed it with the place so heavily guarded and fenced off, but you’ll push your luck once too often,’ she warned. ‘And Pauline has enough to deal with without worrying over Frank getting arrested.’
‘Ach, Pauline’s always fretting over something and nothing,’ he replied. ‘Frank’s been poaching since he was in short trousers. He knows what he’s doing.’ He looked over his shoulder and winked at her. ‘Why don’t you just relax and tell me what was in all those letters you got today?’
‘With the post getting so delayed their news isn’t really that recent,’ she replied, ‘but it’s better than no news at all. Anne says that she, Sally and the little ones are really looking forward to the Christmas party the Americans are putting on in the next village, and that Sally’s Aunt Violet still has a few proper plum puddings she’d made at the start of the war, which will be perfect to finish off the lunch of roast chicken.’ She sighed. ‘I wish I’d thought to make puddings before everything either disappeared from the shops or was rationed.’
‘You had rather more to worry about than plum puddings,’ Ron muttered.
Peggy had a sharp memory of seeing Anne, her grandchild and two young sons leaving on that train to Somerset after the bombing got so bad it was no longer safe for them in Cliffehaven. They were difficult times, but at least now she could miss them without really worrying about them down on that lovely f
arm.
She returned to her letters. ‘My sister Doreen writes that baby Archie is in danger of becoming very spoilt by his adoring older sisters, and as he slept right through their school carol concert she managed to see both girls sing their solos and enjoy the afternoon – although having slept for so long, he then kept her awake half the night.’
She held up the small black-and-white photographs which had accompanied the letter. ‘Bonny little thing, isn’t he?’ she said delightedly.
‘Aye. He reminds me of Frank when he was a wain,’ replied Ron with pride. ‘The biggest, bonniest wee lad you’ve ever seen.’
‘He certainly hasn’t become any smaller,’ said Peggy with a chuckle. ‘And neither has Brendon. The pair of them can fill a room just on their own.’
She looked wistfully at all the photographs that had arrived with the letters that morning. Her sons Bob and Charlie were no longer little boys, her granddaughters Rose and Emily no longer babies – and even Jim looked different.
She held up the snapshot to the weak light, noting how his black hair had been cut brutally short by the army barber; his skin had been darkened by the Indian sun and his broad torso seemed more toned. He was such a handsome man and she adored him – but it was awful to think of him being so very far from home when he should be here amongst his family.
‘Now, Peggy,’ rumbled Ron, ‘I can see what you’re thinking, and it will do no good, wee girl. They’ll all come home when they can, and until then we must carry on in the belief that this war will soon be over, and it might be the last Christmas we have to spend apart.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ she sighed, unfolding the thin sheets of airmail paper and regarding Jim’s scrawled handwriting. ‘And it does sound as if things are really on the move out in India.’
Ron put the birds on a plate in the larder, covered them with a tea towel and firmly closed the door so the animals couldn’t get to them. ‘Oh, aye? What does he say?’
‘Jim and the rest of the men in his unit had some leave which seemed to drag a bit because there was very little to do but watch films or go swimming or drinking. He was quite glad to be on the move again. But that soon proved to be a long and uncomfortable journey by train, where he had to sleep on a hard bench with only one blanket to ward off the freezing night and was given very little food.’
Peggy bit her lip. ‘Poor Jim,’ she said. ‘He does so love his food, but it’s obvious the army aren’t feeding him properly. He says he felt half-starved by the time they got off the train – and then there was no time to stop and eat because they had to catch a boat. After that they were ordered onto another overcrowded train where the only food on offer for the entire day was bully beef, tinned herring and dry biscuits.’
‘It certainly doesn’t sound much of a feast,’ Ron muttered. ‘Did he give any clues as to where he was going on this long journey?’
Peggy shook her head. ‘I have no idea, but he says that he arrived close to midnight and got to camp only to find it was so full he and his men had to sleep out in the open.’
‘With so many troops on the move it’s hardly surprising,’ muttered Ron, handing her a cup of tea before plumping down in a chair by the table. ‘I know Jim will be well out of any action, but perhaps they’re preparing to beat back the Japs once and for all – just as we are with Jerry.’
‘You could be right,’ said Peggy, skimming through to the end of the letter. ‘Because Jim says that after almost freezing to death that night he and Ernie had another long journey in a truck to their actual base, where the workshops were to be set up well back from the front lines.’ She blinked back her tears. ‘Poor lamb, he must be worn out by it all after leading such a quiet life here.’
‘He looks well enough on it,’ said Ron, regarding the photograph. ‘Did he say if he’d received our parcel?’
Peggy nodded. ‘It was waiting for him when he arrived at camp, and he said it was a smasher. He thanked everyone for their presents, hopes I like what he’s sent me, and wished us all a happy Christmas.’
She gave a little sigh before continuing. ‘He says he wishes he was at home with us, but by the sound of it he and his army friends will be celebrating quite well. He’s looking forward to a slap-up dinner which will be followed by a darts match against the officers and a show put on by the boys in the Royal Engineers’ entertainment corps – whatever that is.’
‘It’s a bunch of men who don’t mind dressing up and making fools of themselves because ENSA hasn’t managed to send the dancing girls and singers out,’ Ron told her. ‘But I’ve heard they do a terrific job, and if they can bring a bit of light relief to the troops, then that’s all to the good.’
‘I do feel easier knowing he’s not involved in any actual fighting, and that he has a proper billet, good food and company for Christmas,’ Peggy admitted. ‘I couldn’t bear it otherwise.’
‘Aye, to be sure it’s a comfort to us all,’ replied Ron, thinking of his own letter from Jim which thankfully Peggy didn’t know about, and was written in a very different vein.
He pulled on his coat and old cap. ‘I promised Rosie I’d help behind the bar. She’s expecting a busy night, so I don’t know when I’ll be back.’
‘I’ll see you in the morning, then,’ said Peggy, still immersed in the letter.
Ron went down the cellar steps with Harvey and closed the back door behind them. He took a few moments to light his pipe and then made his way down the garden, through the gate and along the alleyway between the houses. But instead of turning into Camden Road towards the Anchor, he went down the hill to the seafront.
He left Harvey to his own devices amid the rubble of what had once been the Grand Hotel, and went to sit on a stone bench. Looking up, he could see no stars despite the bitterly cold air, for the clouds had thickened during the day, promising more rain. Staring out towards the faint red glow on the other side of the Channel, he could hear the muffled thuds and crumps of yet another bombardment by the RAF and their allies. The war seemed more distant now Jerry had all but stopped the air raids on England, but for Jim on the front line of a very different kind of war to the one they’d fought back in 1916, it must feel horribly real.
Ron dug his hand in his coat pocket and felt the letter he’d managed to retrieve before Peggy spotted it. He’d recently made a point of always being first to collect the post, for Jim had begun to reveal to him what his life was really like out in the jungles of India, and Peggy didn’t need to know the raw truth of his situation, for it would only cause her pain and a lot more worry.
He clenched the stem of his pipe between his teeth and hunched up his coat collar against the biting chill coming off the sea, but there was no protection against the icy dread that was settling in his heart.
Jim’s letter had been written over a number of days as he’d been sent from one place to another, and it described more fully the long, torturous journey to get to his camp – freezing cold, hungry and crammed in like sardines throughout the night, and sweltering in the unforgiving heat during the day with no decent facilities to wash or relieve themselves. He’d been unable to say exactly where they were heading because of the strict censorship, but he’d said enough for Ron to guess that his new camp must be reasonably close to the front lines – if not out of India altogether – for the Japs were over-running Burma and Siam, and the whole of that part of the world was in turmoil.
Jim had told him he was now fully armed with a Sten gun and pistol, which he kept at his side day and night because the Japs were swarming in, in ever increasing numbers, and had managed to cross a particular river, which had seen them break through the front line. They were now expected to make a large-scale attack which could come at any moment, and there had been an almighty flap on during which everyone was evacuated from the forward area.
Allied reinforcements and ammunition kept pouring into the camp, and everyone was standing to, waiting and preparing for the expected incursion and news of what had happened to one of
their sections that had already come under fire. As yet more troops and guns had continued to roll through the camp, everyone had been on high alert, for the Japs were known to suddenly appear out of the jungle and ambush the unsuspecting Allies with extreme brutality.
Once things had settled down, Jim and his section had been flown out to yet another camp which, by the sound of it, was in a deep jungle valley, which meant that men, ammunition, supplies and machinery had to be flown in. It had been a hell of a journey, flying over the jungle in the torpid heat, constantly being fired upon by the Japs from beneath the jungle canopy.
Jim had tried to make light of the terrifying experience, for their transport plane had been hit, and it was a definite case of ‘pass the brown trousers’ for a while before the American pilot managed to get them down in one piece. Repairing the plane so it could fly out again had been his team’s first job – and Jim had praised the pilot’s bravery, for the man flew the same perilous route almost every day to deliver men and supplies to this remote outpost.
On their arrival at the new camp, they discovered not the usual collection of huts, but tented dugouts surrounded by booby traps and wires, and hundreds of men who were exhausted by the constant need to stay alert – even during snatched moments of sleep. It was here they’d been ordered to make a new workshop so the many damaged and broken-down vehicles could be repaired.
Jim said every man was well armed, and as he and his fellow engineers dug inspection pits in temperatures that went off the scale, they were on tenterhooks in case the Japs came bursting out of the jungle. They’d laid more booby traps and wire around everything, but there was no guarantee they would keep the yellow perils out, for they were determined, cunning and fearless almost to the point of suicidal – which made them extremely dangerous.
Having spent broiling days trying to repair army trucks and freezing nights attempting to sleep in the dugouts whilst keeping his gun to hand and an ear out for marauding Japs, he was looking forward to returning to HQ, where there were proper beds and baths and a chance to actually relax. He was hoping to get back there for Christmas, but all he could think about was home and family, and if he would live long enough to see them all again.
