CHAPTER 28
It was another of those slow Summer days, the river once more still and green as dragonflies droned past and something fishy leapt for a mayfly. I was working on another Bolinder, my tools in rows, each bolt laid out with its nut and washers in the biscuit tin I used to keep them from going over the side.

I actually had a proper straw hat now, not a cap, but it wasn’t one of them boater things, despite my job. I thought they looked daft, and I was very keen not to look that way, but with my skin colour and the sun’s heat, a hat it had to be. The boat shifted, and my wife was there.

“Spam and chutney o you, love? Flask of hot tea here, an all”

She had another biscuit tin with my snap, and I knew there’d be more than sandwiches inside, for it had to be eaten, and what could be more loving than a little bit of wedding cake each day? I smiled, and stood up, and Tricia backed away.

“Not like that, Gerald Barker! Got a new pinny on! Wash your hands!”

“Certainly, Mrs Barker!”

I leant forward just enough for a peck on the lips, hands held firmly behind me, and she giggled.

“Still not used to that yet! Still keep signing things with wrong surname!”

“Not wrong surname, love. Just old one”

Dad and Cyril had done us proud, and it had been the Legion who had done the rest. I had insisted that we would do it in uniform, for it would always be neater than any suit I could afford, and while our mothers worked wonders with their sewing machines our fathers had been laying rations to one side for Cyril’s work on the cake. That was the thing: we kept as much of it in house as we could, for things were still tight, but when Tricia had arrived on time and taken her place next to me, and Cyril lifted his little girl’s veil, well, who cared what meat was going to be in the sandwiches later? Bob was grinning like an idiot to one side, Tricia was bright red next to me as she said those words, and blow me if we didn’t end up with more speeches than pints.

“I were doing nowt one day in ’44, so I thought I’d take a little trip to France, just to have a look round, like. There were a few of us did that at the time. I ended up stuck in a tank with a great long streak of ginger for the next year, and as he’s still here to get wed to this lovely lass we must have got summat right in what we were doing”

There was a ripple of laughter, and some scattered applause before Bob continued.

“Seriously, I know how many here understand what we saw. It changes a man, nowt he can do about that, and sometimes it’s change for the bad. Young Ginge here, my friend Gerald, is not one of those. When I met him, he were innocent, absolutely lost in the big wide world, but he learned. He learned quickly, and he learned well, and one particular day, well, happen he saved my life in the hardest way there is, by ending someone else’s. That does things to a man, does things to his soul, but this man is one of those who emerged from what we had to see and do with his virtue intact.

“I have never known Gerald Barker to think ill of anyone ‘just because’. I have never known him… I have never known him to turn away from a friend in need, no matter what their sin or circumstances. There are fine men here, men who have seen what we have seen and not stepped away from duty. I am proud to be with them, to have served with them. I am proud of being held in friendship by the tall one with the ginger nut. He is a fine man, Tricia. You are a lucky woman. Ladies, gents: the bride and groom!”

Dad said his bit, and brought out a real, actual telegram from Australia, and then it was Cyril, who stood with my mother-in-law and made jokes about me needing a kick up the backside to do something that was obvious to everyone in Yorkshire, followed by more toasts. Cyril stood again.

“Happen as it’s my little girl that’s just got wed, and I’m paying for drinks, I get to invite others to say their bit. There are two fine gentlemen here, officers of the real sort, leaders. Now, we haven’t got much time before band starts, so I was going to ask if one of you might say a few words, as you’ve come all way here?”

That was a surprise, clearly to Matthew and Rodney as well, and they had a little whispered discussion before Matthew stood up.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Cyril, we thank you. Robert has touched on our shared time abroad, but I feel I should add a little detail, just to show what a fine man, comrade, brother in arms we have here. I was with the Royal East Ridings---yes, I know, not entirely local! I had a good friend, whose job was to go as far forward as possible in order see where the enemy was. Robert and young Gerald, and my friend Rodney there, were in a reconnaissance troop. That involved driving as far forward as possible until the enemy started shooting at you.

“We had encountered something particularly nasty, my poor infantry—thank you, whoever that was, ‘bloody’ is the word. We had encountered a very nasty German vehicle called a Tiger. Many of you will be aware of what that meant, but for those who don’t it was rather like a ten-year-old child picking a fight with a professional boxer. For one of our rather lesser tanks to remove the obstacle required skill, tactical awareness, speed of decision making and remarkably accurate shooting. Robert here was the driver, Gerald the marksman who slew Goliath and saved the Good Lord alone knows how many Yorkshiremen of my command from probable death.

“He is a modest man is our friend Gerald, but he is steadfast to his duty and strong in his righteousness. Patricia Barker, you have gained a true diamond that will outshine any jewellery you will ever gain. My friends, ladies and gentlemen, may I ask you to first toast our delightful couple here, and then be so good as to raise your glasses for the last time. Gerald and Patricia!”

We drank.

“To absent friends”

The dancing was awkward, for I was still no dancer, but I was with Tricia, with my wife, so it didn’t matter, and anyway there was a taxi, and the train, and Butlin’s at Filey, and our wedding night, and oh my. There was the wedding morning as well, and we nearly missed breakfast.

I could most definitely get used to married life! I tried not to think of a certain Belgian girl, though.

Back at the yard, I noticed a little difference in the way I was spoken to. It was odd: until I was wedded, I was seen as something akin to a child, not quite adult no matter my years. Once I was married, I was privy to the real world of men, with a whole range of assumptions and adjustments. The things I had seen and done in Europe were irrelevant, it seemed; only having a wife at home gave you the keys to the club.

Bob was a revelation, for Dad and Cyril, both Dads, had found him a flat near the racecourse. Just a room, really, but along with it came a job driving a milk float, which seemed to suit Bob’s early morning habits engrained during his years of service. I was sure it must be a lonely life, but he made no complaints, and he would wander along some afternoons to the boatyard to talk about Tricia or the old days overseas. Never about what I heard kids who knew no better calling ‘action’, just stuff to make us smile in recollection. Quite often he would wait for Tricia to finish up in the shop and come to meet me for the bus home to our little two-bedroom council house that Cyril had somehow arranged for us, stepping off for his own place with a smile and a wave after a handshake for me and a kiss for my wife.

What a gentle man he was.