Remembrance Day

by Leah Fleming

  ‘Stop the car, Beaven!’ Guy ordered. Officer or no, no man should have to walk on by as he rolled past in comfort and style. ‘Hop in, young man,’ he called from the back seat. ‘We can take you as far as West Sharland.’

  ‘Thanks, sir,’ said the breathless voice as he was saluted. Their eyes met. It was Frank Bartley, last seen in distress on the road from Peronne all those months ago. The boy stared back at him. ‘That were a Christian act and no mistake. Thought I’d never get back, I’m that whacked.’

  ‘Do they know you’re coming home?’ Guy asked.

  ‘No…thought I’d give them a surprise, but the boat was slow and the train was that thronged. But I’m here now. I’m much obliged.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. Things going well with your company?’ He didn’t want to ask him how long his leave was, knowing no soldier wanted reminding he’d only have a few days before turning back south again. Leave was leave, no matter if you lived in the back of beyond or close to the Kent coast. Everyone got the same amount.

  ‘I’d like to thank you, sir, for what you did back in France…I were in a right state. They gave me two days’ rest, just the ticket.’

  ‘Forget it…It’s another world out there, so don’t expect much sympathy from folks here. They haven’t a clue.’

  ‘My first leave in years,’ Frank sighed as the car drew up to the village square. ‘Drop us off here. It’ll be good to walk the last few yards. I am much obliged to you, Captain Cantrell. Merry Christmas!’

  Guy watched him gathering himself together, his shoulders pushed back, his step brisk. He was going to put on a brave show; they all did. No point in burdening families with all that horror and uncertainty. You pinned on your cheerful smile like the song: ‘Pack up your troubles in your old kitbag and smile, smile, smile.’

  He whistled the tune to himself. They all did it, made light of things. It was the only way to survive.

  Essie was hard at her chores. It was time for the Christmas clean, and while Asa and Selma were busy in the forge, she wanted to get all the brasses polished in the front parlour. They would light a fire and have a singsong round the piano, and perhaps ask a few neighbours in for a bit of Christmas cheer and a slice of her Christmas loaf.

  She heard the latch dropping. ‘Is that you, love? Kettle’s on the hob…fetch us a brew,’ she shouted into the living room.

  ‘One sugar or two?’ Essie froze at the sound of a man’s voice. She dropped her polishing rag and ran into the room to see her son standing there, pink-faced, bright eyes shining.

  ‘Oh, Frankland Bartley, you gave me such a fright. I don’t believe it! Let me look at you, you devil, you…not giving us word. God be praised, what a Christmas gift is this…better than anything boxed up. How you’ve grown! But you look pinched in the face, sit down, sit down! Wait till your dad sees you’re home.’

  Her son plonked himself on the nearest chair, staring round the room with pleasure. ‘I have dreamed of this return…It’s grand to be back.’

  Selma burst through the door in all her muck and glory, her breeches covered in dust and her jumper in holes, a flat cap on her head. She took it all in at once. ‘Frank!’ she shouted, and he stared back at her in disbelief.

  ‘Look what the wind’s blown in,’ said Essie, beaming.

  ‘You never told me you’d changed into a boy. God Almighty, Selma, what have they done to you?’

  ‘None of that, son. She’s taken your place, as well you know. Don’t tease her. She had to change her clothes and her hair for this job but she’s still our bonnie lass!’

  ‘Look at you…all the way from France. How did you get here?’

  ‘With my own two feet,’ Frank laughed. ‘I’ve not grown wings yet, but I’m working on it. It took a train, a boat, another train and an angel on four wheels. I got a lift up the lane. You’ll never guess who…’

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘Captain Cantrell. He stopped for me,’ Frank said.

  ‘A right gentleman is that one,’ said Essie.

  ‘He’s only about the same age as you, you know. You make him sound like an old man,’ Selma added.

  ‘Officers are officers, a different breed, but he’s a good ’un, a proper gent, and he asked after you all.’

  ‘We’d heard he’d been gassed and in hospital for months. Is he well?’

  ‘I couldn’t see in the back but his voice were croaky.’

  ‘He’s a friend of your sister. They’ve been riding out together and sending letters,’ Essie couldn’t resist.

  ‘Mam!’ Selma was blushing.

  ‘Let’s get the soup pot warmed up and some bread on the table. You must be starving.’

  ‘I am that. I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to coming back. But I must warn you, I am in need of a damn good scrub.’

  ‘Language, Frank…you’re not in the barracks now. We’ll get the zinc tub down and boil the kettle. I’ll light the copper and boil up your clothes in the morning. This is just champion, an answer to prayer,’ said Essie, wanting to hug him.

  The door opened and Asa stood smiling at the scene before him. ‘Well,I’ll be beggared.Who have we here? Bring out the fatted calf, Mam. The prodigal has returned. Tidings of comfort and joy, and no mistake.’

  It was going to be the best Christmas ever.

  He’s home, Selma sighed, but it wasn’t her brother she was thinking about. A mile up the road Guy was resting, and somewhere, sometime, they’d meet up again.

  Frank had slept solid for nearly two days and nights. No one spoke about Newton. They wanted nothing to spoil his fleeting visit, but she noticed when anyone asked him questions about his war he swiftly changed the subject: ‘I’m on holiday. So don’t remind me.’

  On Christmas Day he refused to go to church with them. ‘I’m not much for God-bothering these days,’ he said defiantly.

  Asa was shocked. ‘While you are under my roof, you will honour the season, young man. So put your uniform on.’

  Frank stood firm. ‘Sorry, Dad, but we have to differ. If I’m old enough to fight and die for my country, I’m old enough to make up my own mind on such matters as what I believe. Nothing that preacher can rant about hellfire and damnation can match what I’ve seen out there…nothing! It don’t make sense. You will know what the Germans wear on their belt buckles: “Gott mit uns” or “God with mittens”, we say…“God with us”, it means. He thinks God Almighty is on his side and we think He is on ours but I’ve seen such things as makes you wonder where the hell He is in no man’s land.’ Frank began to shake and Selma took his arm.

  ‘Don’t take on. It’s just that Dad’s that proud you’re back, he wants to show you off. Just come and sing a few carols with us today. That won’t break your principles. It is the season of goodwill to all men.’

  ‘Oh, aye…what about the poor beasts of the fields who are out there in the mud with hardly any proper rations, frozen solid. It’s so cruel. I hate to see our horses suffer as they do. They’ve done nothing to deserve all of it. I came home to see you lot, not be paraded round like a dray horse on gala day.’

  ‘You’ve made your point,’ Dad replied, stepping back for once. ‘Never let it be said I had to force one of mine into chapel, but I am disappointed.’

  Frank ignored him. ‘I need to go out for a walk, for some fresh air. I’ll stay back and bank up the fire and keep an eye on things for you. I’ll sing you a few trench hymns but you won’t like them…There’s this one to the tune of “What a friend we have in Jesus”. “When this lowsy war is over, no more soldiering for me…”’

  ‘That’s enough, son,’ said Asa. ‘I don’t think I want to hear any more of that.’

  At chapel his absence was noted. Everyone asked after him at the end of the service and Essie made excuses about him being tired and needing to rest up.

  Frank had changed, hardened; his eyes were like flints when he was roused. In some lights he looked an old man hunched by the fire, staring into the f
lames, lost in his own world.

  ‘Penny for them,’ Selma asked.

  ‘Not worth a farthing, love,’ he replied. ‘I feel strange being back like a visitor in my own house.’

  ‘Are you still with Captain Richards?’

  ‘Nah, he was killed ages ago. I’m driving ammo wagons now.’

  ‘Is that dangerous?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Does Mam know?’

  ‘Don’t say owt, she’ll only worry. It’s not a bad job, mostly behind the lines. But those bloody howitzers take no prisoners. One stray John Jackson lands on our head and we’re mincemeat. It’s a wonder there are any horses left. I’d really like to work in the Veterinary Corps, putting them back to health, not taking them out to be blown to bits. Sorry, no more war talk. So what’s all this about you and Cantrell? Mam says you’ve been walking out with him on his last leave.’

  ‘We’ve been writing to each other for ages but I expect he’s busy with Christmas parties and his family. You know his father was lost with Lord Kitchener?’

  ‘I did hear…Funny how our paths keep crossing at the Foss, then in France and then him giving me a lift. How’s the other one?’

  ‘Angus? He was discharged from the army on medical grounds. He’s had bad fits, but he’s helping run the officers’ hospital at Waterloo House.’

  ‘You don’t fancy him, then? They’re as alike as two peas.’

  ‘No, not at all. He’s quite different, always hanging round the pub—even got banned once—buys drinks but nobody talks to him much.’

  ‘How do you know? Been sneaking into the Hart’s Head of a night?’

  ‘Marigold tells me; she misses nothing.’

  ‘She wouldn’t, that nosy body,’ Frank winked. ‘I heard she’s one who follows anything in khaki. I hope you’re not doing the same.’

  ‘I’m spoken for,’ Selma whispered.

  ‘Has he said anything?’

  ‘No, not yet, but we’re getting there.’

  ‘Getting where?’ Mam was standing in the doorway, listening.

  ‘Nothing,’ Selma blushed, feeling hot. Guy had not even called on them yet so why she was saying such things she didn’t know. It was tempting fate.

  ‘What do you mean, you gave Frank Bartley a lift? Didn’t I tell you not to mix with riffraff? Now look at you, with a cold, and if that goes on your chest…Honestly, Guy, you are so wayward. Beaven has told me it was you who made him stop.’

  ‘I need some fresh air, not to sit mollycoddled round the fire like an invalid in a Bath chair. I’m fine, nothing a brisk walk won’t cure.’

  ‘Then Angus will go with you, just in case.’

  ‘Just in case of what? A chap needs his own company once in a while, don’t you think? You’ve paraded me round the drawing rooms of Sowerthwaite, introduced me to all the bright young things you could muster. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, and no, I haven’t seen one to compare with Miss Bartley for intelligence, and good looks. And yes, I will be calling on her when I am feeling a bit stronger, but a tour around the grounds is all I can manage at the moment. Please don’t go on about it; my mind is made up. I shall call on her father and make my intentions plain.’

  ‘Guy, I absolutely forbid it! You are not even of age. It is a ridiculous idea. You will embarrass us all. There is no bridge between them and us. It is impossible. I think you’ve taken leave of your senses again. If only your father was here to guide,’ Hester fretted.

  ‘I’m not ungrateful for all you’ve done. But life is short, and who knows what will happen next? I just want to be able to enjoy what little time is left with Selma by my side. Father would understand, after all, he didn’t exactly live like a monk when he was away, did he?’

  ‘How dare you say such things? I don’t want to hear another word on the matter. If you go ahead with this ridiculous scheme, I shall take legal measures: nothing will come to you until you are thirty and I will change my will. You will not defy me in this!’

  ‘Be that as it may, Mother, I’ve got my officer’s pay…’

  ‘That won’t go far to pay your present mess bills and equipment. I had hoped you would grow out of such fancies.’

  ‘And you tried to make sure Selma wouldn’t write to me, refusing to give her my address or my news. She found out in a shop queue. I feel ashamed of you.’

  ‘I’m doing this for the best. Believe me, you’ll thank me one day.’ His mother was standing face to face with him, practically spitting out the words.

  Guy stormed out, banging the drawing-room door. His chest was feeling tight now, and then he started to cough and couldn’t stop.

  Hester took one look at him and ordered him to bed, hot and flustered at his defiance. She was concerned about his fitness, as was Dr Mac when he examined him later. There was no way Guy was going to be fit to return after Christmas. Getting worked up about a village girl wasn’t going to help either.

  She’d put him in the front guest room with the best view and the large open window where the westerly could blow in and give him fresh air. She plumped up his pillows to keep him upright, relieved that his cold would confine him to bed again and out of harm’s way. And Selma’s.

  Having her sons to herself was the best Yuletide present, and if she could get him to stay longer, she might persuade him to stop this infatuation with the blacksmith’s daughter. What on earth had she got to offer him? She was peasant stock—good childbearing hips, no doubt, but he was still too young to be making love to girls. He was still her little boy and needed protecting.

  Time to do another tidy-up herself. She was getting used to doing menial jobs now that the daily help had left. That it should come to this. Opening Angus’s room door she thought she saw Guy admiring himself in the long dressing mirror, in his full uniform. ‘You should be in bed!’ she ordered and then realised she’d just taken Guy a jug of water. There was a roar of laughter. ‘Fooled you!’ Angus grinned under the cap.

  ‘Oh, you gave me a fright! What on earth are you dressed up like that for?’

  ‘Just trying it on for size. Don’t I look the part? No one could tell the difference.’

  ‘Take it off at once. It’s just been cleaned. Honestly, Angus, you are the limit, and poor Guy coughing up his guts across the corridor…’

  ‘Makes you think, though, doesn’t it? I mean, no one would know, would they, if I turned up as Guy Cantrell. Even our initials are the same.’

  ‘Turn up where?’ she asked, puzzled.

  ‘At his medical…to give him a few more weeks’ grace with you. He’s bound to be put on light duties or retraining. I could cover for him. What a hoot! No one can tell us apart.’

  ‘Angus, you would be impersonating another officer. Guy would never allow it. You don’t know a thing about his men or his duties out there. It’s a ridiculous idea. Take those clothes off at once. Where do you think up such schemes?’ Hester could feel her heart thudding.

  ‘Don’t you think it makes some sense…just for a week or two? I’ve been right for months. Anyone can see Guy needs more time.’

  ‘The army will see to that and extend his convalescence.’

  ‘But this way I get a proper shot at the job. I’m sick of seeing silly schoolboys in the OTC going off to war when I should be out there. This way I can have my turn and prove that I’m as good as anybody.’

  ‘Is this what it’s all about, jealousy of your brother? Oh, grow up and face the facts. You are a liability now.’

  ‘No I’m not and I know how you want Guy to be home to rest here. This way we both get what we want.’

  ‘Guy would never agree,’ said Hester, hesitating now.

  ‘Why should he know? We could say I’d gone to London on business. Dr Mac will give a report saying Guy’s too sick to attend, and by the time he recovers I’ll be back and we can swap back. Then I can tell him the truth, if needs be.’

  ‘It would never work. It’s madness. We can’t take risks with his wor
k.’

  ‘What work? He’d not last a week in the trenches or on a route march. Think of this as saving his life, letting him off the hook a while longer. Don’t I deserve a chance to prove myself?’

  ‘But, Angus, your fits could return at any time and you need your medication.’

  ‘I’ll make sure I take plenty of supplies. I’ll be fine. Think about it. We could all benefit, especially Guy. He’s my twin; I don’t want harm to come to him, not after Father.’

  ‘Just take the uniform off. Give me time to think this over. If I thought you could pull it off for a week or so…Guy would be court-martialled if it ever came to light.’

  ‘It won’t be for that long…it’ll be such fun,’ Angus grinned.

  ‘War isn’t fun. Surely you realise that by now?’ Hester said, seeing the mischief sparkling in his eyes.

  Angus was crazy to think up such a scheme, but it did have a few points in its favour. It would give her time to nurture and time to keep Guy away from making a fool of himself with that girl. This way he would not be able to leave the house. She could keep him safe from the guns and the trenches before another injury could claim her precious son. Only Angus would be taking a risk too…brave boy. He so wanted to be part of the fighting army. She could see where desperation, boredom, envy and curiosity had brought him to such a suggestion, but it was still madness, a crazy madness.

  ‘Isn’t it time you saw to the horses? Put Guy’s uniform away or, better still, give it to me. I think we’d better forget this conversation. He won’t have to face another medical for a week or two yet.’

  ‘But, Mother, it makes sense…’

  ‘No matter. I’ll have that uniform now.’ Then she paused, suddenly having another idea. ‘On the other hand, there is one thing you can do for me. Something just as important, but not a word to Guy. This is between you, me and the wallpaper.’