CHAPTER 29
“You ready, Gerald? Ernie’s here with them two officers!”

I took a last look in the mirror, making sure my tie was as straight as I could get it, the medals just so, my black beret with the badge sitting perfectly. The red hair didn’t quite go with it, but couldn’t be helped.

I went out to the door, where Tricia fussed over my blazer, picking lint off, most of which I was sure was imaginary. Matthew was there with Rodney and Ernie, the first in his full uniform as a lieutenant colonel, the others in the same rig as me, blazer, slacks and beret. Tricia gave me a peck on the cheek as I went to my friends.

“I’ll see you down by Gardens, love. Make us proud, aye?”

I shook hands with Ernie and Matthew as Rodney clasped my shoulder.

“Married life is clearly suiting you, Gerald!”

I grinned at my old officer. “Happen it does that. Can’t imagine being without her now. Can’t hardly remember not being wed, now”

Matthew laughed happily. “My good lady wife is indispensable, dear boy. She is the estate manager, de facto, but for some reason she objects to my discarding the man who I pay for the job. I have the Daimler nearby; where to, dear boy?”

“Clifford’s Tower. I’ll direct you, aye? Happen we’ve got ourselves a lovely day for it. Me dads and Bob are meeting us there”

The November sun was pale, and there was a chill to the wind, but we had blue skies to watch over us as we marched. Matthew found a spot for his rather luxurious car, and once more I checked my beret in one of the car’s mirrors. Dad and Cyril were there with others of their war, chatting with Bob, who looked so different to the haunted wreck we had seen in Colchester. The standards were being hoisted, the band forming up and sundry Scouts and serving soldiers and airmen taking their starting positions. Cyril came over to shake hands as Dad and Bob checked each other over for blemishes.

“Happen Legion are putting us at the front today, boys. Gerald, you feel up to pushing one of the lads?”

“Aye, Dad. Who is it?”

“Alex Whickham there, from over Skipwith way. He were with Colies in first one. Not so bloody light now, eh?”

Cyril wasn’t wrong, and the King’s Own was certainly neither light nor infantry, because he was missing both legs and must have weighed—my mind shut down on that one. I mean, how much of a fat man’s weight would be in his legs? Best just to smile and push. Cyril made the introductions.

“Alex, this is Gerald, my son-in-law. He’s from Tanks, so should be able to handle a heavy goods vehicle”

Alex’s answer was in a dry rasp, and I realised he had more problems with his health than his legs.

“Cheeky pup! How do, Gerald. Where were you?”

“Normandy, then up to Germany, by Danish border. You?”

“I were right lucky, lad. Passchendaele. Whizz-bang right at start got me, so I got out sharp before it all turned nasty”

That brought me up short, this man declaring that losing both legs was a blessing. From what I knew of that battle, he probably wasn’t wrong.

“Got an extra on this chair, son. Bit steep downhill by Gardens, so I had a little drag brake fitted, See lever? Stop this great sack of lard dragging you straight into river”

There was a sharp blast on a bugle, calling us to assemble. We formed in rows and columns, Legion men, Scouts and serving soldiers raising Colours and Standards as the band finished tuning. Matthew strode to the front of the column.

“PARADE! PARADE! TEN—SHUN!”

Our shoes didn’t make the noise of boots, certainly not the crunchies now due to be replaced by the boot, DMS, but we did our best, with a stamp and that squaring of shoulders and features that, for those of us in blazers, came from pride now rather than discipline,

“BY THE LEFT—QUICK! MARCH!”

I ended up falling out of step, for the simple reason that pushing a wheelchair threw me off, but I did my best to maintain my best military posture. Crowds lined the streets, and those men in hats saluted while others stood to attention, while children cheered and waved flags. Poppies were everywhere, the sun was in the sky and the Museum Gardens packed as we marched in. Matthew called the halt, and once more the crash of boots echoed back from the old walls. Stand at ease, stand easy, speeches, wreaths. The reading. I was fine, right up until “We shall remember them” and the solo bugle.

Alex reached round to put his hand on mine. “I know, son. I know. No shame in tears; shows you’re a real man, not some idiot who’s got no soul to him. What’s a man for without a soul? Happen Good Lord knows what you are, so think nowt of a few tears. Let’s get over by spread. Cyril will have done us proud”

“Shirtlifter! Bloody pansy! What’s he doing in parade? Shame!”

I looked around in shock, and some middle-aged man I didn’t recognise was pointing at Bob. I forgot my grief and tears and started towards him.

“PRIVATE BARKER! STAND FAST!”

The reflex kicked in, and I saw Dad, Cyril and Matthew heading past me just as Tricia got there first, and slapped him hard across the face.

“Ben Taylor, how dare you! Where the bloody hell were you in 44? Aye? Care to tell us?”

Taylor was rubbing his face, which bore a bright red handprint. “I had a reserved occupation!”

“Really? So when my husband was out seeing his mates die, stopping Jerry from walking all over us, you were sitting reserved, eh? And that shirtlifter, that pansy, that man who saved Gerald’s life, saved that officer there, and that one, and that lad there, and loads more, you feel you can call him that? What bloody right do you have to call someone else names? What bloody right have you ever earned? Eh? Now, Ben Taylor, you just, you just…”

Matthew leant past her. “My dear friend’s wife here is far too much of a lady to say it, dear boy, but I will. Just look around you, look at all of us here who did serve, who lost friends, who saw and did dreadful things, and take short pause to think. Make it a very short pause, dear boy, then fuck most directly off”

There was a policeman there now. “Any problems here, Colonel?”

Matthew had the smile of a hungry shark. “None at all, Constable, none at all. This gentleman was just deciding whether to leave via the gate or into the river”

“Very good, sir. Now, sir: would you by any chance have been drinking today, because you have most certainly been disorderly, and that would be something for me to concern myself with. Or are you about to comply with this good officer’s request to leave this place?”

There was a glare from Taylor, but he turned on his heel and walked off. The policeman sighed. “I would watch your back, son. It were your lass that slapped him? Bakers out by Acaster?”

“Aye. Hadn’t realised she had such a good right hand. Aye, our Tricia?”

My wife was blushing now. “Didn’t think, love. Just seemed to happen”

Matthew was treating surrounding counties to his full and hearty laughter. “Dear boy, I do believe I saved your good lady from slipping into the use of soldierly expressions!”

I must have looked puzzled, for he grinned again. “Patricia, my dear, admit it, do: you were about to tell him to do exactly what I said to him”

I don’t know which of us blushed the worse. I looked around for the subject of Taylor’s abuse, and he was simply standing where I had left him, staring at the ground, the life gone from his face. Rodney went across to him, and once more laid his arm over another man’s shoulders.

“Come with us, Robert, Bob. Time for something to eat, and then perhaps head off for some refreshment? Gerald, licensed premises seem in order”

I thought for a moment or two. “Dad, spare room made up? My old one?”

“Aye, of course”

“You and Mam mind if Bob stays night? Think we need to have a bit of letting us hair down. Bob? That suit?”

I dropped my voice almost to a whisper. “Not a request, mate, not a suggestion. These two gents have come a long way for today, so we will sup with them, and we will laugh with them, and you will know you are with friends, aye? You know who you are?”

He sighed. “Shirtlifter. Pansy”

“No. You are that man who brought lads home. We’re going to buy you a pint, and then you will return the favour, and we might get a little merry, but there’s a bed nearby and a breakfast for the morning. Come with us, Bob”

He did, and we acted exactly as I had suggested, and to the other old soldiers in the pub, each with their own memories and dreams, he was simply another who had walked their path and brought other boys home. We drank far too much, and staggered as we went back to the old place, but we stopped at the churchyard for a few minutes, just to lay our own little wreath at the memorial and say the words we had shared in the pub.

Absent friends.