CHAPTER 24
Somebody was holding me as I came tumbling out of the nightmare, sat bolt upright in bed feeling sweat chilling my skin. They were wearing something in flannel, and to my embarrassment I realised it was Beattie.

“Hush now, sir. Hush. Bad dream, that’s all it was. Safe now”

I forced myself to stop trembling somehow, and turned to look her in the face, and even in the darkness I could see the concern written there.

“Sorry, Miss”

“Don’t you be saying sorry to me, young sir. Many a time I’ve done the same for the Major, and for the same reason. What was it this time? That’s if you want to tell me, of course”

“It’s all right. I suppose if I talk about it, it would make it a bit more distant, like, more in the past. I wake up like this and it’s still there, right in front of me”

“Tell you what, sir, you get that dressing gown on and I’ll go and make us some hot chocolate. Not proper talking to a young man in his bed”

“Thanks, miss”

“It’s Beattie, sir”

“It’s Gerald, Beattie. Please”

I followed her down into the kitchen, where a large iron stove of some kind was still warm, and she lifted a cover to reveal a hot plate onto which she placed a pan of milk. A few minutes later we each had a mug of chocolate before us and I was ready to explain.

“You know I served with the Major in the last war?”

“Wasn’t the last war, Gerald. I doubt there ever will be a ‘last war’, not till the Last Trump is sounded. But I know what you mean”

“Aye. Happen you’re right there. We saw a few things, me and Rodney”

“My little Roddy. He was mine to look after from a little boy, you know, ever since Lady Nolan brought him home. I’m not as young as I look, Gerald”

There was absolutely nothing I could say to that, of course, so I continued the story.

“The man we are concerned about, the man in prison, he were my tank commander. Right good bloke, pulled me out of one tank just before it brewed up… Lost a mate in that one, when AP round hit next to his hatch, but would have been a lot quicker if he, Bob, the commander, like, if Bob hadn’t been so sharp, so sly with his handling. Many times he got us off road just as shot went past, and you can hear the bastards—sorry, shouldn’t use language in front of lady. Anyway, you hear them as they go past, and it’s half scream, it’s half ripping cloth, and I spent months and months certain one of them would come straight through gunsight, like, straight at me, and one that got Wilf, it went right under my feet. That were time Bob hauled me out, threw me away from tank. That’s the man they have locked up in a prison”

She looked at me over her cup, a narrow chocolate moustache on her top lip. “That’s your dream, isn’t it? The shot going in? My little Roddy has much the same, but as he’s not little Roddy anymore but Major Sir Rodney Lancelot Nolan, tenth Baronet Patrixbourne, DSO, he is ashamed to be seen in such a state, especially by old Beattie, and bless his heart, I think it’s more than that. He doesn’t want to see me upset, Gerald, or to have me upset at all, so he drinks himself stupid every night. Not right, not right at all”

She stared at her cup for a while, then sighed. “No, I am not going to tell you what he dreams of when he doesn’t drink enough, but you are two of a kind. My Roddy might only be gentry, not someone who gets a robe trimmed with dead stoats, but he is true nobility, that man, and you have come at just the right moment”

“What do you mean?”

“My boy’s got purpose now, someone to save. Might help him save himself. Come on; drink up, and I’ll do breakfast a bit later than normal”

There were no more dreams that night, and I rose the next morning to sharp sunshine and the loud calls of a parliament of rooks in the trees by the drive. George and Hilda were already sat by the table with Rodney as I came down, and my Officer smiled his greeting followed by a very odd and direct question.

“Do you drive, Gerald?”

“A bit, gaffer’s van mostly, and Cyril’s—that’s my Tricia’s dad”

“Good-oh! I was rather wondering if I would have to use you for assistance, but that is thankfully now moot. Oh? I meant that I suspected, dear boy, that you would be required to use your right arm where I am sadly lacking, in changing gear in the Morgan. It would have made passing through the metropolis absolutely frightful! Anyway, enough on that subject. We shall allow you a drive around the area so as to attune yourself to my little toy, and then I shall make another telephone call. Eat up, and after you have breakfasted we shall have some fun”

It was indeed fun, for his Plus Four was a completely different beast to the little vans I had been allowed to use, and more than once I found myself entering corners a bit too fast. In the end, Rodney had me driving through little villages in order to get used to moving at city speeds. On our return, he was laughing, his hair blown into disorder. “Dear boy, you are far from a born driver, but that will improve with practice. It was wonderful having the chance to ride out in my little darling again: my flightless state has rendered that rather difficult”

Once inside, he made his telephone call as Beattie served us soup and excellent bread, and I went off to pack. There were dreams that night, but as they were of my Tricia this time, I made no complaints and raised no shouts.

We packed quickly the next morning and were soon on the road, the car’s engine humming as we sped along to Gravesend, where there was a ferry service to Essex that would help us to avoid the awful traffic of London that had so shocked me when I rode through it. I had a short attack of the shakes, which Rodney saw, and I had to explain.

“It’s the name of the boat, Rodney. Minnie. She were Wilf’s wife, you know, one who, well, had railway accident”

“Yes, dear boy. They sign their documents, they ratify their treaties, their surrenders, their ceasefires, and the war carries on. The dead and wounded aren’t the only victims, are they?”

“Rodney?”

“Yes?”

“I think, perhaps, we need to change what we mean by being wounded. I think, like, just being there wounds you, if you see what I mean. If it don’t, well, do you qualify as being human, having a soul to you?”

He was nodding. “Yes, as always, you see some things so clearly I am astonished by your blindnesses. Now, when we disembark, please pull over by the ferry building”

The crossing was smooth and short, and we each spent it with our own thoughts. We docked, the ramp went down and I parked as directed by the ticket office, where a slim man was clearly waiting for us with his own case and garment bag. Rodney was quickly out of the Morgan and offering his hand to our new friend.

“Matthew, dear boy! How delightful to see you once again!”

“Rodney, dear chap! I had heard about the wing. You have a driver, I see”

“Not at all, my man! This is Gerald Barker, of whom I spoke”

“Ah! The young chap from the tanks”

“Young chap, Matthew? I rather suspect there is very little in years between you. Gerald, dear boy, come and meet my old comrade, do”

This was almost intimidating, for while I had just about settled myself with ‘Rodney’, I was now in front of two officers, and my old reflexes were sharp and persistent. I almost came to attention, for I was without a hat, and that meant no saluting.

“Gerald? I do believe we met once, in France. Bit of a mess that day, if I recall it correctly. Lost a friend…”

Dear Lord, Matthew, a fearfully young subaltern watching his friend Godfrey head off to his death. Rodney waved his arm.

“Matthew, my good friend and comrade in arms, Gerald Barker, of York. Gerald, Major Matthew St John Folland, MC, Royal East Ridings”

“I remember you, sir, when we were first ashore. You and, er, Godfrey? Geoffrey?”

“Godfrey. We lost him that day, but I remember the skill your sergeant showed, and we would have lost many, many more without him. Without your sharpness, I should add. Now, I am here to lend assistance in this ridiculous unpleasantness. Onwards, dear boys! There is room for my affairs, Rodney?”

“Gerald, could you open the boot for me? Now, a spot of luncheon en route?”

Matthew roared, and it was so much more natural than his manner had been in ’44. “Absolutely, Rodney! I know the perfect place”

That perfect place astonished me, for it was a café for lorry drivers, the sort of place later called a greasy spoon, and we were treated to the best fry-up I had had since, well, since the one Beattie had given us for breakfast. No shop was discussed, nothing of the trial. It was a typical soldier’s off-duty chat, recalling friends and bad jokes, drunken escapades and disgusting meals eaten in shell scrapes or slit trenches, and the charms of NAAFI or mess girls. I came out of my private soldier’s shell at that one.

“You two shouldn’t have been anywhere near NAAFI!”

Matthew roared again. “Weren’t we all, all three of us, in reconnaissance of one sort of the other? And some of us were issued with binoculars! Rodney, remember that small hospital near Antwerp, with all the bathing facilities in the rear? In the open air?”

“Major Folland, dear boy, I do believe you are without shame! Now, have you taken rooms in Colchester?”

“I will stay with a friend, dear boy. You have rooms yourself?”

“I have taken some in the Hart. We shall be joined by another comrade there”

“Then shall we proceed? I have already settled our account here, and I shall join you tonight at the White Hart, if that is acceptable”

“We would be delighted, dear boy. Direct us to your friend’s home, and then we shall gather up young Ernie from the railway station”

Following Matthew’s directions, we dropped him at the gates of a stupidly large house, and then I drove us to the railway station, where we spotted Ernie sitting on a bench by the exit.

“Gerald! Major Nolan! How do?”

“Rodney, Ernie, please”

Ernie shuffled his feet. “Don’t seem right somehow, sir”

“Rodney. Please. For Bob. This is an enterprise of friends, not of ranks”

“Rodney then. Aye: Rodney. Gerald? Happen I have letter for you, from your intended”

He handed me an envelope, which I ripped open, scent rising to my nostrils, her perfume, and there it was, the handwriting I knew so well.

“Just a quick note, my love. Dad told me what it is that your friend is accused of, so I felt I better let you know that they all know here, they all know what it is you have gone to defend him from. So no deception when you come home.

What Dad said was that he didn’t care, that Bob had brought you home, brought to many boys home, and what he did in private shouldn’t be anyone else’s business. And Dad said more, he said that any man that Gerald Barker would rush to defend must be someone worth the trouble, because Gerald Barker is a fine and honest man that he will be proud to call son.

So, my darling, you do your very best, and you come home soon, and you come home safe.

I love you with all my heart and soul.

Tricia”