CHAPTER 21
I was in the bottom of some new-style cabin cruiser, trying to see if it was the seal around the shaft that was leaking or whether it was a warped hull, and I heard him call my name.

“Hang on, Ern! Just got to get this fastened back on!”

I took most of the dirt off my hands with a rag as I stepped ashore.

“Won’t give you my hand, pal. Covered in oil and grease”

He was one step short of pacing, I realised. “You OK? Your Ada?”

He looked drained, absolutely worn out. “No, Ginge. It’s Bob”

There was a long sigh, as he seemed to find the other bank of the Ouse more interesting than where we were standing.

“He’s in glasshouse”

“What the fuck for?”

I couldn’t help it. The language wasn’t mine, but I had been a soldier, and it was a soldier’s word. The shock brought it out, followed by anger.

“What the fuck is he supposed to have done? That man’s a bloody hero!”

I calmed myself with some difficulty. “Pardon my French, Ernie, but, well, WHAT?”

Ernie shook his head. “I always wondered about you, Ginge. Always so innocent, always the last to see things. I watched you, you know, and you weren’t, you didn’t seem, and with your lass and engagement and all, but I watched him as well, like”

The frustration was coming to a boil now. “What the bloody hell are you on about, Ern?”

He shrugged. “We could see it, you know. Harry could, Wilf, even Bill. Even that kid we had with us for a while, Philip or whatever his name was, one who got shot. He asked me once if he were safe”

“WHAT?”

“Bob’s a queer, Ginge. A bum boy, a bugger, a pansy. Monkeys found him in a hotel room with some other bloke, and he’s on a charge”

Strong arms holding me as I wept. Someone spooned into me when the night terrors came. Oh my God. I sat down hard on a packing crate, terror churning my guts into nausea, the taste of bile suddenly in my mouth.

“They’re going to bloody crucify him, Ern. What do we do?”

“Well, you just be grateful that he didn’t do anything funny with you”

I had never, ever been angry with Ernie, but it was rising just then, ready to lash out. This was Bob-to-you, the man whose skill and dedication had kept almost all of us alive, who had delivered three of us to a world of marriage and laughing children. I held my temper back.

“Think carefully, Ernie, and remember who we are talking about. Do you really think he, BOB, would have done anything like that, to any of us? Think on, pal, and give me an honest answer this time and not one you put together from bloody hindsight”

He stared at the ground for almost a minute before giving another long sigh. “No”

“So what do we do, Ern? How do we get him out?”

“Don’t think we can, Ginge. I think he’s guilty”

“Aye, but we have to do summat, even if it’s only character witness, like. Have you let Bill know?”

“Ada’s writing to him now, but that will take, you know”

I thought frantically. Not Bob, not our leader locked up in some shitty prison for the screws to beat up. Not after Africa, Italy, France, Belgium, that hellhole in Germany. Not after Wilf, not after Harry. Or Minnie.

“Mr Nolan. Where’s Mr Nolan?”

“Somewhere in Kent. Think he demobbed after Korea. Somewhere near Canterbury, I think”

“Can we find him?”

“Don’t know, Ginge. Think he’s somewhere in North Downs, that’s all I know”

“We need to find him, right sharp. Get him to see if there’s another way. Hang on; need to speak with gaffer”

I knocked on Mr Dobbs’ door, and he shouted out to come right in.

“Sorry I’m all clag and dirt, Mr Dobbs, but I have a bit of a problem. I’d like to ask for some time off”

I gave him a shortened version, leaving out the nature of the crime. “I need to see if I can find our Officer, like. See if there’s owt he might can do for Bob”

He turned away from me, taking a ledger from his side table.

“You nearly done with that cruiser?”

“Aye. Think it’s caulking rather than seal on shaft. It’ll need lifting out to sort. Take me about three hours, once she’s out of water”

“Right…aye. I’ll need to borrow crane for that, and I’ve got nowt else booked in for at least a week. How long do you need?”

“Don’t know. Just have to find him, first”

“Aye. Get yourself down that Kent, then, and go to post office first, and then police station. Someone there will know where he is. And take bike with you. Oh, and best tell your lass first, aye? And…”

He got up and rummaged in his safe, and came back with some five pound notes.

“Here. Call it a bonus for doing good work, call it an early Christmas present, call it an engagement gift, call it what you like”

“Why, Mr Dobbs?”

Old age seized him as I watched. He looked past me and out of the window to another time and place, and whispered “Because he brought you back, son. Your Dad, Bert, me, we left too many out there, too many pals we couldn’t bring home. He did his best, and he got you and that mate of yours there back to us, and one day soon you’ll be marrying Cyril’s little girl. Your dad, Bert, Cyril, two others, like. Six of us. Twenty three went from this village, son, twenty three. Six of us, that’s all. Your sergeant did better than that. You go and talk to your young lady now, and then go straight home and talk to your dad”

“Thank you, Mr Dobbs”

“Aye, well. You just do what you can, son. There’s people in that army that don’t know the first thing about what we did, you, me, your dad. About time they were bloody told”

By the time I arrived at Tricia’s, he had rung the shop. She just hugged me and told me to do my best. Ernie drove me to our house, and with a sharp nod from Mam, and another bundle of cash, I packed my demob case and rode with it strapped on the back of my bike to the station.

I didn’t relax on the train, and even less in London, which was awful. Several times I gave up trying to ride the bike and pushed it through the crowds to Victoria, which seemed a world away from King’s Cross even though it was almost next door in real terms. I found the right platform, loaded my bike into the guard’s van and settled into a window seat in the nearest compartment I could find for a journey that took longer than the one from York, everything moving so slowly. There was a B and B not too far from the station, a pub next door, and a bed with a full load of nightmares awaiting me.

The police station was not that far, and after the very limited fried breakfast the B and B offered I made my way to their public counter. The copper there looked about twelve.

“Can I help you, son?”

Cheeky kid. “Aye, I hope so. Happen I’m trying to find my old Officer from last war. Got some important news for him, and all I know is that he has a farm somewhere near city”

“What’s his name?”

“Nolan. He were with RTR”

“Beg pardon?”

“Royal Tank Regiment”

“Ah. GEORGE!”

A much older policeman stuck his head round the door. “Yeah?”

“Gent here is looking for a retired army officer, ex tanks”

“What’s his name?”

“What’s his name, son?”

I bit back the reply I wanted to give. “Nolan”

The older policeman nodded. “Rodney Nolan? Shy his left wing?”

“Rodney, aye, I think so. Wing?”

“Lost an arm. He’s out at Patrixbourne. Danny, I’ll take this one. Come through, Mr…?”

“Barker. Gerald Barker”

“You were with Major Nolan in France?”

“Aye, not on first day though. You?”

“Number 4 Commando. Royal Marines. Here’s my hand, mate. Ignore the boy, he hasn’t been to see the elephant. Not like us, I think, not if you were with Major Nolan”

He led the way to a little room. “Cuppa?”

“Please”

He did the necessary, and sat down across the little table from me. “What’s the crisis, my friend? You have hurried down from somewhere up north by your accent, you’re looking for him by calling in here first. Someone die?”

“Oh, not this time”

I sat in silence and memory, and he nodded and drank his tea.

“Constable…”

“George. Just George, Mr Barker”

“Gerald. Our tank commander, our sergeant back then, happen he’s in glasshouse. We ‘re trying to get some sort of character witnesses for him”

“Sounds like he’s worth it, if you’re down here”

“Military Medal from Normandy, and most of us home alive, aye?”

“Bloody hell, an MM and they’ve got him locked up? What’s he done?”

“I‘d rather not say”

“Ah. Who was he caught with? Oh, come on, there’s plenty of them about. I had some as mates in the Commando. One mate…”

He was in his own little pool of memory just then, but looked up with a half-smile. “Will Eyres, that was one. Managed to work his way up to a machine gun, got his grenade into their pit, and they shot him through the head. Absolute shirtlifter, no doubts. They bury him in France, he gets an MID, and if he were alive today I’d be locking the poor sod up. Here, you down by train?”

“I’ve got my bike”

“Forget that. Got a car spare; I’ll drive you over. Come on, drink up”

The farm was some miles away, and I was glad of the lift as some of the little hills were rather steep. It was an old building, the farmhouse, two pointy-roofed towers in the back, oasthouses I think, and a sagging roofline. George rapped at the door, and a very obvious ‘woman who does’ opened the door.

“Yes?”

“Is Major Nolan in?”

“Who shall I say is calling?”

A familiar voice called out from inside. “It’s all right, Beattie, I’m coming”

Unshaven, his left sleeve sewn up, he looked awful.

“Barker? My God!”