CHAPTER 1
We weren’t there in the first wave, thank god. We had sat offshore in an LCT for hours while things the size of an Austin 7 flew over our heads to burst inland, and I was more than happy to keep well away from either end of their flight. The lads at the other end had been having a closer view for more than twenty-four hours, while we had waited and fretted.

Wilf had a brew on. He always had one on, any time that we had a chance to sup it. We had just got our mugs filled when the boat? Ship?

When the landing craft, tank, started its run into shore.

The Twelfth were on their way to more glory, and I was nearly crapping myself. It was almost unreal: there we were heading towards a shore covered in smoke, with massive explosions behind it and planes every bloody where, and we were sitting down drinking tea. All of us apart from Bob, that is, because he was head and shoulders outside, stood up in the commander’s position. Wilf called over his shoulder from the bow gunner’s position.

“You going to stand up like that when we get off, Bob?”

“That’s Sergeant Bob to you! Drink up, lads”

Laughter, jokes, my knuckles white on my mug’s handle. I should be braver, that was my thought; have more courage. I mean, Bob had been through Tunisia and Italy, and he wasn’t showing any nerves. I suppose he knew what to expect. Ernie tapped me on the shoulder.

“You OK, Ginge?”

“Fine, Ernie, fine. Just… just I’m shitting mesen. Bit apprehensive, I mean. Whose bloody idea was this?”

He laughed. “Some mad bastard called Adolf, if I remember rightly, son! But…”

He raised his voice. “You know what I always say, lads?”

We all shouted in chorus. “Bugger this for a game of soldiers!”

He lowered his voice again. “You’ll be fine, mate, fine. Ey up, feel that? We’re on the proper run in now. Won’t be long”

Our skipper dropped down into the turret and the lid clanged shut. Wilf laughed.

“Seen sense then, Sarge?”

“That’s Bob to you when we’re closed up, Wilf”

“Make your mind up! Worse than being wed!”

Bob-for-now grinned and gave me a squeeze on the shoulder. “Go off closed down, just in case there’s any hate, like, and then I’ll have to stick me head out again. Bound to be a lot of traffic, and we don’t want to run any PBI down. Well, not ours, anyway”

The LCT’s engines were suddenly roaring, and over the net we heard ‘start engines’. The Meteor coughed into its own roar, and six others followed it. Our troop was ready to move off as soon as the command came, but I nearly missed it when the LCT slammed to a halt and my face flew straight at the gunsight, only held back from collision by Bob’s swift grab at my collar. I heard the ramp go down, and then there was a grinding noise as Harry engaged first gear. We were third off, and after very little splashing we were rolling up a roadway laid by a Bobbin. Nothing went bang, nothing hammered at the armour, and Bob threw the hatch open again and stood up.

“Fucking hell. Driver stop. Harry, pop your visor open. You’ll need to see as clearly as you can for this bit. Ginge, get up here. I need another pair of eyes”

I gathered what courage I didn’t have and threw the two flaps open. Still nothing banging against the metal that surrounded me; I stood up.

Bodies. Rows of them, covered in blankets, some of them clearly not intact. There was a couple of DUKWs parked up, medics around them helping lads who were clearly wounded, a few on stretchers, but… bodies.

“You OK, Ginge?”

“Sarge, look, I---“

“I know, son. This is it, this the real thing, aye? All that training, all gone to mist and fog now? Hang onto it, remember what you were taught. First time you see a dead’un, it’s never easy. That’s done now. Just want you steady at the main armament, aye?”

He looked around at the devastation that surrounded us. A Churchill AVRE lay burnt-out about a hundred yards away, and the other tanks of our troop were slowly and carefully following us as we slipped past the dead. Bob was muttering quietly to himself, and then turned back to me after a quick “Driver left!”

“Ginge, I knew it would be like this. It always is; I just didn’t want to drive over any of the lads who can’t go home. Eyes peeled, son”

We led the way down a long canalside straight, and I felt even more twitchy. It was just so, so open, and any half-decent gunner would see us miles off. A pair of Typhoons shot by overhead, stripes clear on their wings, and I saw they still had their rails full. Please, lads: don’t save any for me.

“Back in, Ginge. We need to start tightening up now. Leaguer is in three miles”

A field was full of smashed gliders. There were more bodies beside them, and dull-eyed civilians were staring blankly at us as we passed. A little girl sat by a bridge, eating chocolate. A smashed German tank sat beside the road. Things were burning. All images seen briefly from my periscope and sight as we passed.

That was all there was for that day, oddly. We disembarked, we drove for a bit, trying our best not to tear up any of our dead mates. In the distance, other people were trying to kill each other. Wilf did a brew. What a bloody anti-climax.

Three o’clock the next afternoon and I felt rather differently about it. Bob was clipped and precise.

“Turret traverse left. Target at 800 yards. Got it, Ginge?”

I pulled it out of my recognition lectures somehow. “Mark IV, by the war memorial?”

“Aye. Think he’s engaging someone else”

“Gun on”

“Shoot! Fuck, get another one in, Ernie! Quick as you like, Ginge!”

Tap on my shoulder from the loader. Sight on. Bugger windage. This time I saw a hit, and black smoke started to pour out of the Panzer, hatches flying open in the top and sides of the turret as bodies scrambled clear. Bob yelled in my ear.

“Shoot the bastards!”

Wilf’s Besa was already hammering, sparks flying off the enemy’s hull as black-overalled figures lurched and fell. I joined him in the slaughter, and then left my stomach’s contents in the piss-bucket.

“Driver, off to the left. Off the road now!”

There was a rattle of small-arms fire up ahead, and then a tearing scream as something went past us and through where we would have been. My mouth was drying up rapidly, and Bob was on the net.

“Sunray, sunray, bravo seven one”

“Go ahead, seven one”

“Position seventeen, just up from the war memorial. At least one pak. Can we have some pedestrians, over?”

“Could you mark with smoke, over?”

“Not unless I want a turret with a view, Sunray!”

I was sure I caught a chuckle from the other end. “Bob, the East Riding boys are passing you now, over”

Just then, the phone rang, and Ernie grabbed it. “Sarge, boys at the back!”

“Tell him I’m dismounting, Ernie”

Up he went through the hatch, returning three minutes later.

“They’ve got a lad running a wire forward. See if he can spot the gun. Harry, there’s a house behind us. I want us round the other side quick as you like. He knows we’re here”

There was another scream, and a very loud bang. Bob stuck his head out again.

“Fucking hell, that was Jimmy’s. Harry, now, aye?”

Shouting instructions as we reversed, Bob got us behind the wrecked house in what seemed like an eternity of waiting for the strike of the armour-piercing round on the hull. I knew where it would come, of course: through the front of the turret, through me. There was another scream as the gun or guns fired again, but this time there was no answering explosion. There were, however, screams, human ones this time.

The infantry did what infantry do, though, and we rolled back out onto the road only an hour later. I was still head down, so I couldn’t see what was left of Jimmy, his tank and his crew. I could still hear their screams. That was what kept me awake for my second ever night abroad, but in my dreams I couldn’t tell whether those screams were from Jimmy and his boys or the Germans I had cut down with the Besa.

We lay out that night, leaguered with the rest of the squadron. I had looked at kipping under the tank, but Wilf had laughed. “Rains in the night, tank settles, you’ll be sleeping a lot sounder. Marshy ground here”

I didn’t sleep that much anyway, as there were odd moments of hate all night. Somebody got mortared off to our right, and there was always a bloody star shell floating down. Spandaus ripped away, the sound just like tearing paper, they fired so quick, but all I really heard that night were the screams.

CHAPTER 2
“Turret left! Range five hundred! Got him, Ginge?”

“Aye…”

The Cromwell rocked as the breech flew back.

“Nice one, lad. You’ve got the eye for this, all right. Driver, sharp left here”

We rolled forward, rising slightly as we went over the dead horse, and I tried not to listen as the port track slipped just a little in the mess. Something struck the front of the hull; rifle round, probably. I was tired beyond anything I had ever felt.

“Driver stop!”

Bob slapped my shoulder. “Going out, lad, have a look through that hedge. Ernie, get your head out, keep cavey, aye?”

Wilf called back to us from his seat. “Got time for a brew?”

“Don’t be so daft! Time for a fag, if you want”

Bob was back in a few minutes, leaves caught in his hair. “That’s twenty-first Panzer, that lot. Had them in North Africa. Hard bastards”

Wilf called back again. “What we got, Bob?”

“Bait and trap, mate. Usual stuff. I could see at least two muzzles down the other end of the field. There’s three Mark Fours in front of them, but they’re all brewed up. Couple of Ronsons too. One of them’s still burning. Hang on while I get hooked up. Right…Sunray, Sunray, Bravo seven one!”

“Go ahead, Bravo seven one”

Bob rattled off a grid reference. “Three U.S. Mark Fours ahead of us. Two U.S. Shermans between us and them. At least two anti-tank guns beyond them at the tree line, over”

“You sure the Mark Fours are unserviceable, over?”

“All three are smoking. Two have crew hanging out of the escape hatches, and one of them hasn’t got a head. Markings are twenty-first Panzer, over”

“Hold position, Bravo seven one. Bravo eight one, Bravo eight one, Sunray”

“Go ahead, Sunray”

Jack’s voice was tinny over the net, but I could still read his mind. How many this time? We had heard the news of the Filthy Fifth, over towards the West, where one bastard Tiger had stopped their column by taking out the first and last vehicles, then driven their length killing them tank by tank.

“Bravo eight one, make all possible speed to their right. Bravo seven one, Sunray”

“Go ahead”

“Can you spot fall of shot and correct it? Getting a stonk laid on, over”

“Will try, Sunray. Dismounting. Ernie, I’ll shout back, aye?”

Off he went again, and Jack was back on the net. “Sunray, Sunray, Bravo eight one”

“Go ahead, eight one”

“Got a sunken lane past the woods. Making good speed, be there in five, over”

“Understood. Listening”

Silence, except for the buzzing of the bees around us and a distant rattle of musketry, then the radio spoke again.

“Sunray, Sunray, Bravo eight one”

“Go ahead, eight one”

“In position. Looks like at least four guns, fifties or bigger. Half tracks to rear, over”

“Understood, eight one. Bravo seven one?”

Ernie answered. “Seven one here”

“Firing now”

I heard the round pass overhead before the explosion ahead of us. Bob was shouting to Ernie, who repeated it for the gun crews. With each message, there came a loud explosion.

“Up twenty. Left twenty. Fire for effect”

Jack’s voice: “Engaging half tracks. Shoot”

There was a roar of explosions as the twenty-fives fired their stonk, but I still heard the whiplash crack of the paks mingling with the deeper boom of Cromwell seventy-fives. Bob scrambled back in and closed his hatch. “Driver advance! Through that hedge, quick as you like, Harry! Shit, shit, shit!

The hedge tore apart in front of my sight as I looked around for targets. Men were running from the tree line, falling as Wilf’s Besa hammered away, but I was looking for other things. Things like the white-hot streak of an anti-tank round coming at me. It was just as Bob had described, a mixture of burnt and burning vehicles, charred bodies hanging off them, and as we roared past at our best speed, the smell was sucked into the turret by the ventilation fans. I had nothing left to throw up.

“Harry, get behind that Mark Four with the turret off. Sunray, Sunray, cease firing”

“Understood, seven one. Bravo eight one, Bravo eight one”

“Sunray, Bravo eight three. Eight one’s copped it”

“What do you have, eight three?”

“Four wrecked seventy-fives, Sunray, and accompanying tractors. Can we have infantry as soon as possible? We have prisoners, over”

“Losses?”

“Eight one’s gone, as well as eight six. Both brewed up straight away, over”

“How many wounded to bring back, eight three?”

There was a pause. “None, Sunray. Nobody got out”

Bob sighed. “Wait for the footsloggers, Harry, then up to that tree line. Bit too open out here”

Once the East Ridings had cleared the woods, Harry pulled us into their shade. Wilf, as ever, was absolutely predictable.

“Brew now, Bob?”

“Aye, go on. Watch your step, though. I know these fuckers; they might have left some surprises around. No souvenirs just yet, Ginge”

Souvenirs? These were dead men, not objects to lift a little memento off. Jesus. Lads in Khaki were going through pockets, though, and all I could assume was that it had all happened so quick to the Krauts that they hadn’t had time for their usual creativity with tripwires and Bouncing Betties.

A subaltern from the East Ridings was chatting to Bob as we supped Wilf’s usual magic.

“We’re trying to get up on them, pin them to contact, but they just fade back each time. Lads are getting rather tired, Sergeant”

“Aye, sir. Weren’t we supposed to be in’t big city by teatime on the first day?”

The frighteningly young officer grinned. “That we were, sergeant, that we were, but there seems to be some slight local objection to that idea!”

Bob laughed, and it was genuine. “Aye, sir, and at least half a dozen bloody panzer divisions in’t way. Little battle groups like this one, though, that’s their style. Had that in North Africa, had it in fuc--- bloody Italy. Come forward, rush back, we go after and the guns are waiting. Sorry, sir, we can’t stay out in front of you. That’s what they want. Over to you now”

The younger man sighed. “Oh Lord, don’t I know it. My problem is that the boys know it as well as we do, and it makes it no easier. How much H.E. are you carrying?”

“Ernie?”

“Aye?”

“How many rounds left, how many A.P. in the mix?”

“Two thirds of the load left, Sarge, and half of that is A.P. That’s twenty two of each”

The officer nodded. “Would you be able to use your troop as close-support artillery for an hour or two?”

“Well, sir, we are the recon troops, us and eight troop”

A very, very tired grin. “Not for now, Sergeant. This is where the East Ridings will have to do some work. I have a field telephone going forward. There are some buildings in the next froggery I would like rebuilt in a more accommodating style, so if you could oblige I would be grateful. Our F.O.O. will be out there shortly, once his carriage arrives. Ah! I do believe we have the very chap!”

A Sherman was lumbering over the open ground like some rubber duck gone wrong, and shortly another, older officer was sharing the conversation.

“Afternoon, Godfrey, thank you for joining us”

“Not at all, Matthew; I was in the area anyway”

I was watching the older man closely, and where the subaltern’s manner was almost a caricature of the suave young man he clearly hoped to become, ‘Godfrey’ was taut as a wire. It came to me a little later: he looked just like I felt, absolutely wetting himself but doing his best not to show it. ‘Matthew’ continued.

“Got a small froggery forward, Godfrey—“

“Beg pardon?”

“Froggery. Like a Woggery, but French. Village, yes?”

“Ah. And?”

“Boys on the Q.T. have seen activity there. Windows removed, overturned wagons. No livestock. I rather suspect Jerry has decided to block us once more. Our donkey-walloping chums here---“

Bob chipped in. “With all due respect sir, we’re R.T.R. and not cavalry”

“My apologies, Sergeant. As one was saying, our armoured chums here will be able to donate a few of their explosive devices to rearrange some of the village, which should get some movement into them. If they rush out, I have a mortar section, but I would rather drop something heavier on them, just in case they themselves have a larger relative close by”

I whispered to Bob. “He doing that deliberately?”

“Later, Ginge”

The two officers moved away, and Bob whispered again. “Kiddy, trying to sound big but wetting his trousers. The older bloke, though, he’s not got much left. Got the stare and the twitch”

‘Matthew’ was back. “All set, Sergeant? Yes? Good-oh! My chaps have spotted some low-lying for you No line of fire except from the rooftops, but I doubt they will be able to levitate their heavier weapons. I will ask you to perforate their lofts for us, and then we shall see what is shaken loose.

Twenty minutes later, and I was peering through some twigs and leaves at the second floors of some smashed-up buildings sitting seven hundred yards away. I set my sight just to the left of a large dormer window and waited. Bob had the phone ready.

“Load H.E. and await order”

Ernie slapped my shoulder. Ready. Silence… a tinny voice came out of the handset; clearly the young officer was shouting. Bob’s voice was clearer.

“Shoot! Right five. Ernie?”

A slap. “Aye!”

“Shoot!”

The roof collapsed just as my second round went out. Bob was still on the phone. “Lots of movement, boys. Ginge, another H.E. if you don’t mind, then Ernie, I want A.P. in. This is not good”

Another slap, and then a quiet groan from Bob. “Get that one off now, Ginge! Shoot!”

Crash, rock. “Ernie, armour piercing NOW! Driver reverse!”

The breech banged shut, and we crept slowly back. Bob was hushed.

“Harry, back slowly but directly to that copse. Keep it slow and quiet. Ginge, target right twenty degrees. Do NOT engage”

The turret swung round as my sight swept over the double muzzle brake and the stupidly big gun of a Tiger. It flashed, and I saw the glowing round streak across the open ground now coming into view. There was a loud explosion, and Bob began to swear.

“Bernie’s gone”

CHAPTER 3
“Ginge, Ernie, I want you sharp, now. One of those buggers did half the Fifth in. We’re not going to get a shot at his arse, but we can smash a roadwheel or two, Trouble is, he gets a shot on and we’re brown bread”

There was a mutter from Wilf. “Bloody well toasted!”

Bob was terse. “Not now, son. Ginge, what we’re going to do is have a pop at his turret ring. You’ve got the eye, told you that already. We get his turret jammed, we can shoot up his tracks and stop the bastard. Harry, that’s a one-shot game. I want you in reverse, and if Ginge doesn’t get him, I want us out of here as quick as you like. Ernie, whether he gets the bull or not, I want another round of AP in there straight away. Ready lads?”

To be honest, I wasn’t ready for anything but bailing out and running for the beach, but there were infantry scuttling through the wheat that stood tall the other side of the hedge. Our lads were hitting them back, but there was nothing they could do about the Tiger. As I watched, an A.P. round struck his glacis and flew off at an angle. His turret turned away from my sight, and I heard once more the shattering crack of his main armament. Bob was at my shoulder.

“Quick as you like, Ginge”

I worked the sight round to the back of his turret, where there was an odd box attached, different to the recognition books and charts back home. Ernie’s call was sharp.

“Clear!”

Once more our tank rocked backwards, and almost as soon as the recoil had been recovered Ernie’s hand slapped my shoulder and I got a second round off. I could see sparks fly off this one, where the first shot had simply flown away towards the sun.

Bob was praying softly. “Harry, out of here after the next shot. Ginge, front left sprocket. Can you see it?”

I could, and I hit it. The monster had just reversed his left track to turn his weapon towards us, and I saw broken track spill forward before it stalled in place.

“DRIVER REVERSE NOW!”

I cracked my head on the sight as we went, and when I recovered my position I could see nothing but trees. There was another explosion before us, and then two more, measured in tempo, before something I can only compare to a sudden downpour in a thunderstorm. Bob was breathing heavily, and swearing softly until the barrage finished.

“They didn’t get that Godfrey bloke, then. Thank god for the guns. Harry…”

I realised Bob was trembling, his voice betraying his fear, but he was still calm in his delivery.

“Boys, I’m off out for a shufty. Nothing’s come back at us, and certainly not from that big bastard. Nicely done, Ginge, Ernie. But I said one shot”

I tried to sound self-assured. “We had time, Bob”

“Only cause some other daft bugger took a shot, boy. Anyway, soonest out, soonest buttoned up again. Won’t be long”

He was three minutes out of the vehicle, and straight onto the net when he returned.

“Sunray, Sunray, Bravo Seven One”

“Go ahead, Seven One”

He gave a map reference. “We have two Tigers abandoned, one with its track off. I can see two more in the village, but one is missing its turret and the other is actually on its back. There…”

He paused. “We will need a replacement F.A.O.”

“Not in clear please, Seven One”

“Sorry, Sunray. Our pedestrians have pushed forward. Bravo Eight is on station”

“Carry on, Seven One”

“Time for a cuppa, Sarge?”

Bob sighed so deeply I thought he would crumple. “Yes, Wilf, just this once. Harry, anyone asks, we just need to tension the tracks or dip the sump or check the tyre pressures, whatever sounds like a good excuse for a few minutes. There’s a stone wall over to the left. Get us behind that”

It was predictable as all hell. Wilf was just pouring when the subaltern returned in a jeep, sweat trails through the dust covering his face.

“The holidays have started early, I see, Sergeant”

There was something in his voice, and with yet another monumental sigh Bob started to turn towards us, ready to start packing our kit away again.

“No, Sergeant, finish your tea. Evans? Thank you”

His driver produced two battered mugs, and the young officer bowed. “If I may presume? Ceylon for me; white with four sugars for Evans here. Sit or stand easy, boys”

Wilf did the honours, as small arms fire rose to a crescendo beyond the village. The Subaltern took a long pull of his ‘Ceylon’ and sighed. “Nectar! Now, who was it that played David to the Hun’s Goliath?”

Bob pointed. “Ginger over there. Managed to get two shots off as quick as you like. More than that, he was watching when the first one bounced. Then he smashed up his tracks. Got a good eye, the lad has”

“Super! But, Sergeant, who was it decided on that course of action?”

I looked over at Bob, and put my oar in.

“Bob. I mean, the Sergeant. I didn’t have a clue, but he knew where to try for. Sarge set it up, Ernie there was sharp with the loading. Harry got us in the right spot”

Wilf laughed. “And muggins here played Mother with the tea! I can try and find some lemon juice for next time, if you like, sir”

The officer nodded. “A good crew action, led from the front. Or at least the tea making was… Sergeant, you did see that Godfrey bought it?”

There was the distinct glitter of tears at the corners of his eyes. Bob nodded.

“Aye, sir, I did. Not much doubt of it, the way he was left”

“Yes, yes. Frightful mess. Look, I will be making due report on this little altercation, and I will be mentioning you and your crew specifically for your part in it”

Harry piped up. “Other lads did their bit too, sir, but we were just luckier”

The young man was suddenly horribly and frighteningly old. “Sometimes, my man, we make our own luck. Your Sergeant here knows what he is doing, which is far more than many of the rest of us, myself included. Evans, I did not make that remark, d’ya hear? Boys, men, there are lessons to be learned here, and it is useful if one is able to crib from a friend, because failure to learn is rather terminal as an experience”

Bob was quickly back to him. “I rather think that other officer knew what he was doing, sir”

“Godfrey? Godfrey’s job was swanning, that’s all he did. The more you swan, the more likely you are to get the chop”

“Aye, sir, but it was him that called that stonk in”

“Not so, Sergeant, not so. He registered the first round. They removed his head before he could say much more. His Number Two called it in”

He stood to go. “Thank you once more for the tea. I should add that Godfrey may have lost his head, but at least he didn’t burn with the rest of his crew””

The tears were far clearer now, but with a peremptory “Evans!” he was onto the jeep and away. We sat silent for a while, Wilf breaking the mood.

“Think they was more than mates, boys? Public schools and that, all bummery! Or so I hear”

It was many years before I could work out what Wilf had been doing, but it had been simple. He was like the irritating noise that breaks the mood at a show, the cough or sneeze that knocks your concentration. All we had to concentrate on here was death and destruction and the loss of pals, so he stepped in just when we needed him to say something stupid, or trivial, or funny. That was the thing I was starting to understand, especially after the Subaltern’s words. We were a team, in the end. Bob led us, precisely and without ceremony, but when he said “Go” we went. Ernie was so quick at his post, and Harry’s driving combined with Bob’s eye for the ground had saved us from at least two anti-tank guns. As for me, I had just killed a bloody Tiger. I really needed to get that sorted in my mind, because I knew that if I wasn’t careful it would leave me cocky and careless.

“Bob?”

“Aye, Ginge?”

“What happened to the crew of that Tiger?”

“One got out, three got halfway. Turret position blocked the driver’s hatch. Someone shot him through the vision slit. All of them are good Germans now”

I had killed, one way or another, five more men, five strangers. This time, though, I didn’t need the bucket.

The next day, we were pulled out of line to replenish and repair, and there was a NAAFI tent with far better tea than Wilf had ever made. Bob vanished for a while at some N.C.O. meeting, and looked grim on his return.

“News, lads. Not good. Big push coming, try and break out of this wrestling game. We will be going for a bit of a drive. Nice weather for a run along the coast, Harry!”

CHAPTER 4
I sat in the warmth of that Summer’s sun and wept. We had finally been pulled out of contact, for you can’t replenish under fire, and in the sudden break from what I had been watching my strength had finally broken loose and fled, and I was crying like some stupid little girl. That airfield.

That fucking airfield. I had been living on my nerves for weeks, as it goes with reconnaissance. We had been the ones out at the front, the first to find the enemy, the first to get shot at. Harry kept joking that he wanted to switch the gearbox around as Bob had him reversing so often, but the joking had stopped that afternoon when we waited on the flank of a low hill and watched our mates die.

Bob had a real genius for spotting good ground, as I had quickly realised, He could see just where we could sit the Cromwell, and always, always, always had at least two fall-back positions ready for us. The most rounds I ever got off without moving remained those I had fired in killing that Tiger, and that afternoon I had seen why.

We had done our job, as always, and then pulled back to let one of Monty’s set-piece attacks go in. Heavy bombers, Typhoons, divisional artillery using everything from 25-pounders up, it had all gone in, and we could see the wheatfields waving in the Summer breeze as the assault units moved off the start line. Bob had been out for a shufty as usual, and when he came back he was shaking his head. He climbed up on the engine decking and called down to me.

“Exits from the start line are bloody tight, Ginge. Do me a favour and grab that other set of bins, and stick your head out. Nothing going on round here, but it’s about to start down there”

“What am I looking for, Bob?”

“Jerry likes his anti-tank screens, Ginge. Happened to us a lot: he comes out, we charge in like stupid bloody donkey-wallopers always do, and he retires sharpish. Screen of guns dug in, we rush forward, bang, bang, bloody bang. I want you to try and spot any AT fire so I can call in a stonk”

He must have caught something in my face.

“Aye, lad, I know they’ve just bombed all sorts of everything out of the Jerries, but trust me, they’ll still be there. Come on, up and looking!”

We were only able to talk because of the sudden fall in noise levels, as our aircraft cleared away and the barrage moved forward. I took a quick look over towards the waiting units, and they were off, their movement sending waves through the grain. Bob was right, of course, and from our vantage point I could see the congestion stretching into the distance. As the Shermans of the first units dispersed into the field, I saw the first round go past them.

You can actually see anti-tank shot when you are far enough away, for it glows red in flight. Far enough away, and to one side, it looks almost attractive, harmless even. That lasted till I saw the first one hit home.

One of the leading Shermans sent the most perfect smoke ring skywards from its turret roof and stopped dead. Hatches flew open, and lads scrambled clear. Within about thirty seconds, it was blazing like a blow torch, flames shooting up where the smoke ring had flown, and as the lads ran off through the wheat, the ammunition started to cook off. With an almighty bang, the turret flew ten or fifteen feet to the side, and another armour-piercing round struck the Sherman three to the dead tank’s left. Nobody got out of that one.

I could see shot after shot searing across the field, tank after tank stopping, burning, exploding. Black plumes were everywhere, and Bob suddenly slapped my head.

“Fucking wake up! Bins on that tree line, look for muzzle flash, WAKE UP AND DO YOUR FUCKING JOB!”

He turned away, already plugged in.

“Sunray, Sunray…”

I started calling them in, he converted my bearings to grid, and stonks started coming in.

“Harry, I need to get round this dip a bit more. Need a better angle on that copse. Can you see that hedge just ahead, the one with the metal gate in it?”

“I can that”

“Get us up just behind the hedge to the left of that gate. Driver advance. Ginge, get in. We might need the main”

I dropped in just as something fizzed past us, and Wilf opened up with the bow M.G. Bob swore even louder than before.

“Driver reverse! Wilf, panzerfaust in there, watch for another! Harry, keep going, left hand down, driver halt. Ginge, give them a few good bursts”

I could just make out some dark figures sprinting off on the other side of the low hedge as I raked it with the coaxial machine gun. Bob was muttering.

“Bloody hell, he was close. Harry, close up. Ernie, load H.E. I want two rounds just to the left of the gate. Ginge, it’ll be close to maximum depression: can you get a shot on? If you can, quick as you like”

Ernie slapped my shoulder and, yes, I could get the shot on and did. Another slap, another round, and that part of the hedge was gone. There were body parts. An arm, a boot.

“Sunray, Sunray, Bravo seven one. Can we have some infantry forward? Panzerfaust, one round fired. Suspect they’re looking to work a gun round for enfilade fire. I will direct, over”

“Bravo seven two, Bravo seven two, seven one”

He muttered again. “Fucking shit set…Ernie, give it a slap, you know where. Bravo seven two, seven one? Aye, Jim, got infantry forward. PIAT stuff at least. Can you see me? Aye? Lob a few into the field to my front, stir them up”

He was quiet for a while, then as calm as if the swearing had never happened.

“Lads, the Suffolks are coming through. Eyes open, let’s not lose any friends”

I thought back to the last sight I had had of that wheatfield, the plumes of smoke, the shattered tanks, and all I could think was ‘any more friends’.

“Ernie, get the phone”

I was switching from periscope to gunsight and back as rounds started landing from the rest of the troop, and in a stupidly warm moment of relief I remembered that we were not the only ones out there. So much of the time, as I lived on the slippery edge of panic, it felt like we were alone in front of the entire German army. It was as much of a comfort as I could find in a world of fire and blood.

Ernie was on the ball, as always.

“Bob, Got a Suffolk on the blower”

“Thanks, Ernie”

What happened after that was brisk and nasty, and when the Germans broke and ran across the field behind the hedge I shot as many as I could, and as I fired I saw black plumes of smoke rising from a field of golden grain in warm July sunshine. Bastards. The day went on and on, and we called in stonk after stonk, Typhoon after Typhoon, and I realised we were doing the same job that dead officer had been doing, what seemed like years ago. We got up close, whatever it took, we looked for them, and we called in high explosive to make them go away, and as we did so they, in their turn, did as much as they could manage to kill us all. I couldn’t really think past sightlines and deflections for the rest of that day, until we were finally sent to leaguer and replenish. That was the moment when the reality turned round and bit me in the arse.

Back then, you see, we rarely fought at night. Not in tanks, anyway. We pulled back to refuel and pick up more ammunition for all three weapons, and in a strange sort of way set up a camp. We camouflaged as best we could (shape, shadow, shine), dug a couple of slit’uns to dive into if we needed, as well as some for a bog, and we tried to sleep if we could. That wasn’t anywhere near possible for me that night. We had pulled back behind the start line, and for us that meant coming down from our miniature battlefield onto the broader one.

The smell. I cannot begin to describe the smell, it never, ever goes away. I never lost it, I never found a way to get it to leave my nostrils, but that wasn’t the worst. God alone knows what temperatures are reached in a burning tank, but I saw the results. Oh dear Lord, I saw the results. They all seemed to be trying to sit up, as the heat had made everything shrink and tighten up. Bone and charcoal and fucking teeth grinning at me, and mixed in with the dead were German prisoners, some trying to look cocky but most of them just lost and frightened.

That broke my resolution. The first of our mates’ corpses had set up an odd adolescent daydream, where I saw myself as a two-fisted hero, knocking down evil Jerry prisoners left and right. Then I saw them…

When I saw them, I realised that somewhere over the lines, somewhere I had been calling in bearings, their own mates were lying burnt and broken. I suddenly had a vision of those bits and pieces of humanity that I had harvested back by the hedge and it was too much. Bob found me leaning back against a road wheel, the tears running free.

“What the hell are we doing, Bob? What is the bloody point?”

He settled himself down beside me, and put an arm around my shoulder, pulling my head into his.

“Because there is nothing else we can do, son, nothing else. The world has gone to shit. All we can do is ride this out and see if we can’t make a better one next time round”

CHAPTER 5
We rolled into the big city, and Wilf went looking for the best pub. No, not really. There were no pubs. No houses, no streets, nothing but rubble and blank-eyed locals staring at us without any life in their faces.

The Sappers had bulldozed a few roadways for us, but I suspected they didn’t actually match what had lain there before we arrived. Behind us, the Graves Registration boys had what must have been the worst job in the world.

Jerry was falling back, but our vehicles were well and truly buggered. We had done what we could in leaguer, tensioning the tracks and topping up the fluids, but Bob and Harry’s fondness for reversing had almost stripped the gearbox. Never mind. As everyone else seemed to be on their way south, we got a new issue, welded frame this time. As we climbed in, Bob was smiling.

“Try not to bugger this one as well, Harry! What we going to call her?”

Wilf was quick, as usual, “Him, mates! Stanley, of course. Oliver always says about Stan getting him into another fine mess”

Bob was grinning. “Stan it is. And it’s Harry that’s been getting us out of messes, so let’s see if we can keep this one as virgina intacta as the old one”

Over the next few days, life seemed to start emerging from the rubble around us. We were offered a billet in a field of tents, but after a pretty short chat we said ‘no ta’ and stayed with our new transport. Wilf continued to do surprisingly good stuff with powdered eggs and bully beef, and there were not only NAAFI wagons but also locals willing to swap the odd bottle for anything issue that we didn’t use.

The locals took such a long time to thaw I almost felt that we were the invaders, not the Jerries. Along with my daydreams about being a two-fisted hero I had, in my adolescent way, dreamt of French girls. We would arrive, put the Evil Hun to the sword, and girls would, well, girls just would. In the end, I heard that the girls, women, grandmothers would indeed, but it was done for food, and their eyes stayed blank as our boys had their knee-tremblers behind random piles of rubble.

I slept badly then. I would wake suddenly, soaked in sweat, a shout half-heard on my lips, and several times I found Bob beside me, a gentle presence and even a hug. I never felt that he was up to anything unnatural, no queer stuff, but rather that he was acting like a father, soothing his boy to sleep. It helped, and so did the booze we managed to acquire.

I suspect now that we were left in relative peace deliberately, for when we began a push to the South-East we were well-rested and mounted on fresh kit, and Jerry was getting a severe beating somewhere to the South. I saw pictures on the news reels when the Kinema Corps set us up a screen, pictures of a place called Falaise, and I gave thanks we had not been there. What they had done to us outside Caen was absolutely nothing to what we did to them. I thought of all the old bible lessons, the stuff about reaping whirlwinds, but all I could bring to mind was pieces of men that I had sent flying with my high explosive.

For the next push, we were teamed up with some of the Yeomanry, and they were so like our dead Officer I nearly cried. Mounted in armoured cars, they swept and sneaked till they found the enemy, and then we rolled up for some more robust and physical recon. It was different now, for Jerry was in full retreat, but that didn’t mean it was a doddle. He was a sharp bastard, your German, and we still lost mates steadily.

We had stopped and leaguered with the rest of the troop, one day in July or August, the air still heavy with Summer heat and the threat of a thunderstorm, and Sergeant Neville, Jim, of Seven Two was over with us, trying to swap some souvenir or other for some of the fresh eggs Wilf had liberated. Bob had upped the price, or rather reduced the number of eggs, and Sarge Neville was laughing out loud, calling Bob a thieving Arab bastard who had clearly spent too fucking long with the rest of the wogs in Africa, when the back of his head came off and his brains splashed all over Stan’s side plate, the sound of the shot coming a second later.

The East Riding boys were quick, but they never found the sniper. We buried Jim just off the road, and two days later a frighteningly young man was dragged into that night’s leaguer and kicked half to death before an Officer could get involved. I had sprung forward as the first kick went in, but Ernie had grabbed my arm.

“Leave it alone, mate. Look at the cunt’s collar”

I walked over to what looked like a tall fifteen year old boy, and I saw the same eyes I had seen in Caen: flat, passive, devoid of hope. There were zigzags on his collar, twin lightning bolts. One of the East Riding lads, the one who had the boy’s arm twisted so sharply I expected at any moment to hear the bone crack, saw where my eyes were pointed.

“Aye, son. Bloody SS. Adolf’s little favourites. Nothing to do with this bastard except to slit his fucking throat, but the boss says I can’t. That right, Mr Allsop?”

His Lieutenant nodded. “You are correct, Eyres. We need to see him deposited still breathing with our intelligence colleagues, but I am watching his eyes. I rather suspect that his mother enjoyed being fucked in her arse---yes, you do speak English then. I suggest you do not take up cards as a living, your face is too open. And I look forward to seeing you hanged when we have the time and opportunity. Eyres, at your own pace, and with only the most necessary of violence, remove this piece of filth and deposit it appropriately for interrogation. Name?”

The young man stared at him, sullen, silent.

“NAME!”

The boy drew himself up. “Wilders, Gunther. Sturmmann”

He rattled off what must have been his number in German, and then sprang to attention.

“Heil—“

Eyres punched him in the face.

“You can fuck off now son. Do that again, and I will start breaking bits of you. Bill, Jack, fix bayonets if you please”

They left as a group, two eighteen-inch bayonets prodding at the German’s kidneys, and I gave Bob a raised eyebrow. He sighed.

“Not nice boys, Ginge. Best avoided, if you can, but, well, best not taken prisoner. If you have the option, that is”

A remark I remembered. I didn’t realise what it would bring to me a few months later.

The locals were different now. With Jerry running like a Waterloo Cup hare, we didn’t seem to be seeing the destruction that had been Caen. There were flowers and tears, music and kisses, and it was clear even to me that some of the girls really wanted to say their thank-yous in a physical way.

She was plump, with blonde hair and dimples. The boys smiled at me for a week.

CHAPTER 6
We kept rolling. They kept shooting, but we weren’t losing mates quite as often now. The days were getting shorter, but the weather was usually fine, which made the waste of July and August so dreadfully clear.

We were in Belgium by September, and after we got past the Seine we saw more and more farmers at work. Normandy had been different. The thing I learned about Normandy after the war was that it wasn’t just a place of burning men and burnt tanks but of orchards and cattle, a cuisine based on cream and apples. We had seen the cattle, usually lying on one side, legs sticking out stiffly as the gases of decomposition bloated the corpse, but now we were seeing dairy herds that were being milked rather than dismembered, grain that was being harvested by scythes rather than Spandaus. Jerry was running and Christmas was ahead. We were even getting mail.

“Ey up, Ginge!”

“What’s up, Wilf?”

“Got any of that brandy still stashed in the gash locker? Got some news”

I rummaged in the little box on Stan’s starboard side. “Aye, got a couple of bottles left”

Wilf called out to the rest of the lads. “Grab your mugs, boys! Here…”

He picked up a letter with a grin and I swear just a hint of moisture in his eyes. “Ready?”

Mugs were offered, the bottle splashed, and Wilf raised his hand for silence. “Seven pounds and 6 ounces, lads! We need a name!”

Bob laughed happily. “Wilf, son, we need a bloody idea of boy or girl first!”

“Ee, Bob, son, aye?”

Harry was grinning. “Well, we all know what you were up to that New Year’s leave, then. How about the obvious? Stanley sound good?”

Wilf looked at the great lump of metal we lived in, and his face fell slightly. “Harry, aye, nice idea but… well, afterwards, after we finish this, I was sort of hoping to forget about it. Look, I don’t mean about, well, THIS”

He waved his mug to encompass our crew. “I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, forget you lads, aye? How could I do that? What you’ve got me through… Harry, your driving. Ginge, Ernie, couldn’t think of anyone sharper. That Tiger, I were shitting myself, all up front like I am, aye? Bob… Sergeant, without your nous, none of us would be here.”

Bob sniffed. “Bit formal, Wilf?”

“Aye, suppose so. Just trying to be a bit more serious than I am normally, like. Just… you’re the best mates any man could ever hope for, the truest, strongest pals, and it’s different now. I’m a dad. Got a son to teach football to, take fishing, all the rest of being a dad. Makes all this rubbish with Jerry that bit more personal, bit more dunno. More at stake, aye?”

Bob smiled as gently as he had held me in the long, bad nights of my terror. “Aye, lad, it does that. You get someone you care about, you see there is something to lose, you don’t want to lose it. Can’t see them letting you transfer, though”

Wilf found his laughter again. “Fuck off, Bob! Leave you lot? Ey up, lads, I give you a toast: Wilfred Ernest Robert Gerald Harold Braithwaite!”

We drank. Ernie was grinning now. “And if the missus says no to all that?”

Wilf sobered once more. “She already knows. I gave her the idea for the names, and told her why, and she’s a grand lass is our Minnie. No jokes, lads, I am so lucky to have her, and she’s stuck true to me all through this. Other lasses, well, all those bloody Yanks about back home, you know what I mean. Come on, sup up and I’ll get us tea on”

Utter genius, that meal. We’d found…. We’d acquired a couple of chickens from, well, places where chickens are kept, and it was amazing how Wilf’s mind saw what to do. We dug a trench and laid half an old petrol tin in it and filled it with wood. Over one end, Wilf set a biscuit box from our last issue, and then heaped soil over the top of it. Bob and Ernie had drawn and ploated the birds, and from somewhere Wilf had found some herbs. A rub of some butter we’d stumbled across, and two hours later I was finishing the best roast dinner I could ever remember eating.

Bob sucked the last of the meat from a wing. “Wilf, lad, where did you learn that little trick?”

“Mate, it was in a Boy Scouts book”

“You were a Boy Scout?”

Wilf laughed happily. “No such luck, Bob! Dad wouldn’t, couldn’t, be doing with all that expense. Uniforms, jack knives, funny handshakes. Said it made them sound like the masons. I found a book once…”

There was a little hint of shame there. Ernie pounced. “Found one? Like we found those birds?”

Wilf grunted. “Aye, just like that. I were just a kid, and it had all sorts of stuff in, everything from how to describe faces to what sort of fire to build when you’re without a tent. It were all the stuff I dreamt of when I were a mite, like. All the stuff I never got to do in Leeds, and now here I am, bloody recon troop. Scouting for men, this time”

“Eh?”

“That were first book, ‘Scouting for Boys’, made us lads laugh when we were older. Just, I don’t remember the bloke who wrote it putting anything in about Tigers and Moaning Minnies”

I started to laugh at that. “Wilf, please tell us you don’t call your missus that!”

A raised eyebrow. “Depends on her moods, aye? I’ll get another brew on, then turn in. Got me eye on some of those fields over there. Think one of them’s got some spuds about ready to be freed from brutal occupation”

Bob finished his wing. “And what if their owner objects? This isn’t Germany yet, son”

Wilf’s face fell. “I don’t think they can any more, Bob. The East Riding lads, one of them told me the Germans had, well, bugger it, he and his mates gave them a decent grave at least. Lads, this isn’t what I’ve brought a son into it, is it? We’re going to make it better?”

Bob reached out for his hand. “We already are, son, we already are. Ernie, first stag, aye? Back up the line tomorrow, we need a decent kip”

It was like that for the next few months, but the easy ride turned nastier as Jerry found his feet again. We got sniped a few times, Bob almost falling on me once when a round hit the hatch top as he was having a quick look round, but the savagery of the fields around Caen seemed long gone. I heard rumours, though, and the news reels we occasionally got to see were clearly being censored. It seemed the Canadians were having a lot of shit north and west of us, for whoever decided on taking the port of Antwerp seemed to have ignored the fact that it lies deep inland, reaching the North Sea by way of a river, and if we didn’t hold the river, we couldn’t use the port. The Germans had ruined Calais, Boulogne and Cherbourg, so most of our provisions were being brought up by truck all the way from the bloody beaches we had first landed on. It was a miracle Wilf had got his news, but that was one thing the Army did at least try and get right.

The days got even shorter, and I realised Christmas wasn’t that far away. We got the first snow, and bugger me was it cold. Living in a big metal box it gets cold very quickly, especially if the engine isn’t running, and I was not just touched but actually grateful when Mam sent me a small parcel.

It’s a joke now that Christmas is a time when men get socks as a present, but she had knitted three pairs of worsted wool socks and a balaclava helmet. By the end of November, I had the balaclava on most days, and our tank was gathering more and more odd rolls and packages on the track guards as we picked up every spare bit of bedding we could find. Wilf was as sharp as ever, and one day he even brought us a goose, and the biscuit box came into its own again. This time, he made something up with biscuits and the goose fat, and even cold the flavour was just what we needed with a cuppa on a cold watch. He might not have paid for his Boy Scout book, but by God had Wilf read and inwardly digested the whole thing.

Ernie surprised us a few days into December. The day after Minnie’s picture of herself and the little one had arrived. We were almost stationary now, somewhere near a place called Namur, and the snow was settling and staying with us.

“Wilf?”

“Aye, Ernie?”

“Made you this for the littl’un”

It was a drawing, a cartoon I suppose, and it was of Stan, with each of our heads in caricature sticking out of a hatch smiling, Ernie standing by Stan’s starboard side about to pass up a wrapped present. Each of us was clearly recognisable, our names inked beside us. Over the top of the picture, in Holly-leaf lettering, it read ‘Happy Christmas’, and below the picture, in which the Christmas sleigh was shown departing stage left, it read ‘To my son and his mother, with love, from Dad and all his mates. Next Christmas together’

Ernie was blushing. “Just thought, like, you could send her this, her and your son like, and she might not feel we were all such strangers, and… and he’d know who his names are”

We all signed, and it went off for the censor and the postal service.

The Germans attacked the next day

CHAPTER 7
We got the news over the net piecemeal, and then three or four days later we had a formal announcement by a visiting staff officer, his shoes clearly unused to the snow and frozen mud that covered our leaguer and rest area. We formed the usual hollow square and he spoke in the usual public-school whine.

“Gentlemen, the Boche has attacked in numbers through the Ardennes, and our American friends have received rather an unpleasant Christmas present of a lot of tanks and men. Monty has decided that they are either attempting to split us from our friends, or perhaps recapture Antwerp, or both at once. They would appear to be using some of their better units, and unfortunately they chose a slack point to assail. Our man has a close eye on the situation and action will be taken when he has the full gen. I ask you, however, to ready yourselves for the fray. Everything shipshape and Bristol fashion, what?”

Wilf muttered next to my ear. “Don’t think Stan would look quite right with a funnel, lad”

The Major looked round at our weary faces, for that is how I am sure the lads were feeling, for it was how I felt. Rolling up the Germans had been messy and frightening, but it was steady work, and they were usually moving away from us. This was going right back to what we had suffered through in the Summer.

“Any questions, gentlemen?”

One of the lads I didn’t know had his hand up first. The Major pointed his stick at him.

“Yes?”

“Sir, these Ardennes. Aren’t they where Jerry came through in ’40?”

“Absolutely!”

“Then why weren’t they being watched this time round?”

The crisply turned-out officer gave a wry smile. “Well may you ask that question, my man, well may you ask it. For whatever reason, events have taken this course and we can but respond to them as best we can, as we must. Now, the weather has been beastly—“

There was a shout of “We have noticed—sir!” from some hidden man.

“Yes, yes. Rather inclement for you all, I am sure, but it is the effect on our aerial reconnaissance that is crucial for the present. That will mean we will require information about the Boche, his strengths, his deployment and movement, and we will have to acquire it in the old-fashioned way. Gentlemen, when Monty decides his course of action, you will be the eyes and ears of the entire army. We are assembling units back from that little adventure in Holland, but for the moment we will have to use those such as yourselves. All troop leaders remain with me. Dismissed!”

Wilf turned to me again. “Time for a brew?”

“Oh go on then. Get it while we can”

I could feel the double meaning in that one. I spent the next two hours checking every part I could of my weapons, and then helping the other lads stow the ammo. The order to move came early the next morning, as our captain held his own conference with the tank commanders, Bob included.

He was quiet when he came back. “It’s been bloody for the Yanks, boys. Bloody SS is back in the area, and they’ve got some of the new King Tigers as well a lot of Panthers. Monty has decided that we need to keep them away from some bridges, so we’re going to head down by the river and get hull-down as best we can. We’re not on a swan this time; Hussars have got that rubbish passed to them. Oh, one other thing: Jerries are using men dressed as our lot to bugger us about. Traffic signals, bogus Monkeys, that sort of thing. I’ve got hold of two of these for Stanley. Ginge, I’d like you to carry one”

He had two belts holding holsters, and I must have looked a bit puzzled.

“Two of us will be heads out, and getting a Tommy Gun through that hatch will be a right bastard job, so we’ll have these Webleys. Just in case, right?”

He sighed again. “Look, lad, if we get any of these fancy-dress artists they’ll look like MPs, and that means they’ll be close enough to speak to. Neither of your weapons will be able to bear on them, and Wilf can’t fire round corners, can he? Just take it, and try not to get it hooked up on anything important”

We moved off a couple of hours later, and the weight of the big .45 pistol on my belt felt odd. The snow was still coming down, and I had my goggles on as well as Mam’s balaclava helmet, my beret on top as I added my eyes to Bob’s. We reached the river, and Bob dismounted in his usual way to look for a decent place to lie up. As always, he wanted one with not just a decent exit to the rear but with at least one secondary hide to duck back to. I have always felt that the only reason I survived that long was because of his skill and eye for the land. Without him, I would have been dead several times over. As we waited, a jeep came along with a couple of Monkeys, military policemen, and I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. That sounds trite, but it was what I actually felt, as they tried to tangle with the wool of my balaclava.

Bob turned to them as they pulled up. “How do, lads”

“Very well, Sergeant. Just need you to resite. Jerry’s changed his line of advance, and you’re needed a couple of miles west of here”

“I’ve heard nowt on the net”

“Oh, there are big problems with radio reception at the moment”

Ernie shook his head sharply at that, pointing to the headset he was wearing while Bob was on his shufty. He tapped the right earpiece and gave me a clear thumbs up. I took out the heavy pistol and used my own thumb to remove the safety and then pulled the hammer back. Keep your finger outside the guard, Gerald…

I kept that hand down as I stood up, then brought it out under cover of the forward hatch cover.

“Where are these boys from, Robert?”

Something must have shown in my voice or expression, because I was never a good actor, and one of them grabbed for his own pistol as I shot him in what turned out to be the throat. Bob was wrestling with the other bastard but my scramble out of the turret turned into farce as the bloody holster caught on the bloody hatch. It was Wilf who was out first, sideways through his hatch and straight into it with a boot to the bastard’s back, then another and I was out and running, ramming the muzzle into the bastard’s face and feeling his teeth break. That was when he stopped struggling, and I began worrying that I had shot a real redcap and not a Jerry.

My target was still twitching, breath rattling in his throat, but he had sprayed so much blood everywhere that he was never going to live. Bob was up now, his opponent still down, my pistol still in his mouth.

“How’d you know, Ginge?”

“Ernie overheard. Net’s fine. Tried to give you a warning, like”

“Aye. That was right clever, lad. Now, take that gun out of his gob, but keep it by his face, close as you like, aye? Oh, and…”

I caught his gaze, and cocked the bloody pistol again. Shit.

Bob turned to our new friend as his own finally shut up and died. “Now then, Sunny Jim, who the fucking hell are you, and while you’re answering that, give me a fucking good reason why we shouldn’t just shoot you now”

Wilf was still breathing hard, clearly furious. “Shoot the bastard now, Ginge!”

Bob’s voice was quieter. “My decisions here, Wilf. Mine alone. Ernie, call up Sunray and get someone down here. Wilf, some rope out of the gash bin. Get this bastard nice and secure, quick as you like”

We trussed him from ankles to chest and left him lying in the snow. He asked one question, after giving us the usual litany of name, rank and number, which were still British. Lying bastard, I thought. His question was whether he could sit up out of the snow, and Bob’s answer was direct.

“Those uniforms you are wearing, those boots on your feet, that jeep, they came from at least two of my chums, two of my comrades, perhaps even two of my pals. I don’t care if you bloody well freeze your fucking bollocks off, because I am having difficulty in not shooting you in the belly and leaving you to bleed to death. So you lie there, quiet as you like, until my boss sends someone down to pick you up”

He turned to Stan. “Harry, twenty yards that way, there’s a big house with a front lawn. Dip in the lawn behind the hedge. Wilf, walk him into it”

Looking down at the dead man, he nodded to me. “That was good work, lad. But I think we need to work out some way of hanging these bloody things in the turret. If that had been you getting out after we got hit, you’d be toast now.”

He looked up and shouted after Wilf.

“Yes you can, lad! You know how we take it!”

The East Riding boys were down in half an hour, and they took both living and dead, using the jeep. When we got back to Stan, Wilf was grinning.

“Look what I found in their shed!”

Four big cans of whitewash and some brushes. Bob laughed out loud. “Nice one, son! We’ll finish this brew and get brushing. Ginge, one job for you, but has to be done”

He looked up the road to where he had fought with the German.

“Shovel some fresh snow over the stains, please”

CHAPTER 8
We were on two hours on-two hours off that first night. The paint had been spread all over Stan, and Ernie had liberated some net curtains that broke up our shape, but I still felt isolated even though the rest of the troop were lying up either side of us in their own little patches of cover.

I didn’t get much kip at all, because I kept seeing the German twitching on the ground as great fountains of blood sprayed all over him and the snow, his head hanging to one side where the .45 had taken away most of his neck. I ended up seeing him most nights after that, him and many others.

About three in the morning, Bob shook us all awake as the sound of engines drew near, but they were ours in reality this time and not just in uniform. Our boss called down to me.

“Get up and have a look at these buggers, Ginge! I’m angling for a swap, me”

I scrambled up and stuck my head out into the freezing air, then ducked back down for Mam’s woolly delight. Once wrapped, I looked out to see a number of Morris C8s, each towing a thing of absolute beauty to my tired eyes. 17-pounder anti-tank guns, the same thing they’d squeezed into Sherman turrets to make the Firefly, and I could see exactly what Bob had in mind. There was no chance, much as I would have loved one. Long round, long breech mechanism, ferocious recoil, all far too big for our cramped little turret, and what was its rate of fire? Our QF was nowhere near as effective, but we had proved its speed of fire against that Tiger. With Ernie loading, I knew we could always get a shot off, and that is a good way to distract a bigger opponent long enough to get out of danger. For a while, anyway.

Bob dismounted and went to discuss things with our own Officer Mr Nolan, who had turned up with the guns. I could see lots of pointing, and the Lieutenant was obviously amused enough by Wilf’s efforts to shake Bob’s hand.

Bob was soon climbing back in, rubbing his hands together with the cold, and just sat there till five, lost in thought and eventually snoring. Wilf got everybody up at five, and begged a favour.

“Don’t like an open flame when we’re like this, Bob. Can I try and sort something out in the house?”

“As long as no smoke, aye lad?”

“Wilco. Lads, if I can, porridge? Got a gash load of powdered milk off the last replenishment, and there’s that sack of oatmeal cakes. Might work, might not, but either way it’ll be warm”

We were all in agreement with that idea, and off he went. An hour later, we were in heaven. God knows how he managed it, but Wilf was one of life’s champion scroungers, and always seemed to come up with something to eat that was at the very least better than normal rations, and at its best as close to heaven as any of us would ever get in that bloody war. This time, he even found proper bowls and spoons in the kitchen.

There was silence of a sort as we ate, snow coming in through Bob’s open hatch, and then with a sigh of contentment he started gathering up the empties.

“Wilf, lad, that were above and beyond even for you. We’ll have another brew in a bit, but I’ll fill you in on what’s planned. Jerry has come a bloody long way forward, but there’s been some bloody good work by the Yanks either side of the break in the lines. Turns out that the place they hit was full of green troops, and they weren’t up to it. The lads on the flanks, though, they’d come the same way we did, and they didn’t break. Sounds like they broke a lot of Jerries, though. That pair of pretend MPs, aye, they were part of a lot of stuff like that intended to disrupt us from behind. Yanks have caught quite a few, but ours were first ones in Khaki. Now, we’ve got the Yeomanry in front of us, mostly in Daimlers, so check twice if you see a vehicle to our front. Guns are attached to West Riding boys, so give the lads a ‘what cheer?’ when you have time. Thing is, Jerry is coming this way. He should go past us, but Monty thinks he’s going to have a go at the bridges here and up and down stream.

“We will be doing that little German trick, for once. 4, 5 and 6 troop are going to advance noisily once the Yeomanry have found Jerry, and then retire. The opposition are believed to be Panthers with some Mark IVs mixed in. If they take the bait, it will be messy work, lads”

I could see what he meant. The guns near us would be more than capable of doing to Jerry what he usually did for us.

“Bob?”

“Aye, Ginge?”

“Not that I’m eager to volunteer, like…”

Wilf snorted his tea up his nose. “Nobody who’s lived this long is that fucking stupid!”

I raised a hand to silence him. “What I was wondering is why we aren’t the ones out front. I mean, it is sort of our job. Not complaining, though, am I?”

Bob nodded. “Thank our master of the kitchen for that one, lad. Mr Nolan were right impressed by Wilf’s work with paint, and those net curtains, and he said it would be a crying shame to put it all to waste. Our part is to lie ready. When time is right, we advance, counter-attack like. East Riding boys are over other side, lying up. Eyes peeled and sharp, lads. Let’s not hurt any of our own”

“Bob…”

“Aye, Ernie?”

“Just wondering, like. What happened to that bastard they took away?”

“Uniforms were from some lads in XXX Corps, they took them in Holland. Buggers were both SS, had the tattoos”

Bob turned to me as he caught my confused look.

“They don’t have a big one saying ‘Heil Hitler, Long Live the SS’, lad, but all of them have their blood group marked on them. Anyway, Colonel of the East Ridings held a drumhead and then the bastard went for a long drop on a short rope”

He put a hand on my shoulder. “No time for the formalities, lad. This is too shitty a war to bother about that now. Right, lads: weapons check, another brew if you would be so kind, Wilf, fags if you have’em and then we’ll be standing to”

The day stayed dreary, snow falling steadily from a leaden sky, and I began to get bored. Wilf did a couple more brews, and there was the occasional glow reflected back from the clouds dropping their white rubbish, but it was hours before we started to hear the crack of individual high-velocity weapons. Bob was sitting wholly inside, his headset on and his eyes closed, trying to follow developments in what was clearly building up into a savage encounter while he awaited our own orders. I had my head out, beret pulled down as far as I could get it over my balaclava and hands jammed into the pockets of my pixie suit. I really felt for the PBI, stuck out all night in not much more than battledress.

There was movement up front. I gave Bob a nudge with my foot, and he was out next to me in a second.

“What you got, Ginge?”

“Vehicles, about two hundred yards past that big oak in the field. Don’t know what they are yet”

“Sunray, sunray, Bravo Seven One”

“Movement to our front. Range four hundred”

“Yes, bloody snow indeed. My boy’s a sharp one”

“Understood. Listening out”

“Ernie, get up here, but load AP first. Harry, warm her up. Ginge, I am off out for a bit. You get into your seat and check your sightlines”

Ernie took the set, and Bob was off for only five minutes, clearly passing the orders by word of mouth and runner. Ernie slipped back down behind me as Bob fastened everything back on, brushing bits of snow from his shoulders.

“Yeomanry will be across shortly, lads, so watch your front and hold your fire. Our boys will be the next. They’ll go straight down that lane to our left, so pick your targets with care”

Wilf called back. “We’ll have some targets then, Bob, not just the hares?”

Bob sighed yet again, a sound I was getting to dread. “Not just the hares, son. Bloody great load of hounds behind them, too. Now, pick your targets, boys, but not even a sneeze till I give the word. All set?”

We gave him a little chorus of “Aye” and I settled myself against my periscope. The first vehicle over the bridge was a Dingo, and then there were two Daimler cars, turrets trained rather hopefully to their rear, followed by Cromwells. I counted to thirteen before that one stopped with a bang and a flash from the engine bay. I sat uselessly as the hatches flew open, and thanked God when I saw five figures actually running across the bridge, nobody missing, nobody being carried. Another shot hit the tank when they were twenty yards clear, and the blast wave took three of them off their feet. They were soon up and running, though, as Harry made sure we were fully warmed up.

Infantry came over the bridge next, and they were ours, firing and dropping back in sections. They didn’t all get across, and I felt my fingernails slicing into my palms as I sat there like the most useless waste of space in the whole of Belgium. The West Riding boys were busy, though, and mortar rounds began dropping over the far end of the bridge while Brens hammered at the same spots.

Squat, that was my first thought. Wide and angled and fastened to the ground by the slope and weight of its armour, and I realised I was about to die as two of the guns right by us spoke. I saw the strikes through my gunsight, and they were beautiful in a dreadful way. The Panther simply skewed to its right as one broken track spooled forward off its roadwheels, and the driver lost interest due to the very precise hole right under his vision slit.

The Bren gunner was waiting. No quarter.

There were others, and I was about to fire when my whole world rang like the biggest of bells, and Bob had his hands on my shoulder straps and my head was already through the hatch.

“OUT! OUT!”

He almost threw me from the turret top, Ernie close behind me. I grabbed a look back, to see Harry following…

We got thirty yards away before Stan blew his turret off. The Germans retired, badly mauled, after another six hours of shit and noise and death, and after everything had cooled down, we got what was left of Wilf out of the wreckage and buried him in that back garden.

CHAPTER 9
Fighting doesn’t stop while you stand round and grieve. It keeps on and on, for any particular human being is just another piece of kit to be used and discarded. We waited those six hours in the snow by a mortar section, one of whom tended to the burn on Harry’s neck. Wilf…

The first shot had entered from the left side, just aft of his hatch, and the wave of shit it brought with it had done terrible things to him, things I will not describe. Some of the mess had blown past him to catch Harry, who had been incredibly lucky, and then the round, which was clearly plunging fire, had smashed through our hull and second starboard road wheel before making a large hole in the ground. It had almost gone right through where my legs were, it was only the angle that saved me. If it had struck anything harder it would have turned, bouncing round the inside of our tank. I found bits of metal stuck in the sole of my right boot, mixed in with other stuff I didn’t want to think about, as well as a couple of singed holes near the ankles of my suit. The second shot had gone right through the left side of the turret. That one would most definitely have ended us all. Once more, it was down to Bob and his clearsightedness.

We hitched a ride on a Morris back to the comforts of a REME depot and a debrief as Harry was looked after by some QRANCs who seemed to be in an advanced state of hero worship. It struck me then how artificial our little world was. Out at the sharp end as we so often were it always seemed as if we were entirely alone, just the messages on the Net to tie us to others. Even when we were lying up, with other tanks and crews within sight, we still felt isolated, wrapped in our steel. I looked over at Ernie as he spoke to some Greenslime chap, and I realised how it must be for him. Bob was almost always head out, and me, Harry and poor dead Wilf had our periscopes and hatches. I remembered how I had felt those first days, the certainty that some red-hot streak was going to come tearing through my gunsight and into me, and there was poor Ernie, nothing to see but my back and the breech.

I began to cry at that point, and Bob saw, came over and just held me till I had finished. The Intelligence bod started to say something about not being finished, and Bob looked straight at him till the officer turned away.

Bob whispered into my ear “Saves on the court-martial for telling him to fuck off, lad”

There was a mess tent attached to the REME lads’ little depot, and with very few words of explanation a sergeant messed in with corporals and lance jacks and we were simply left in peace to get stinking, blind drunk. Somebody wrapped us in blankets as the night continued its course when we had already fallen by the wayside, and I heard afterwards that our pet Greenslime officer had had a Road to Damascus moment. The MPs came, they saw, they were persuaded to turn the blind eye.

That was hard to deal with, harder than most of what we had to put up with. Those boys meant well, and by God we appreciated their efforts, but they really thought they understood what we had been through, and the truth was that they didn’t and never would. They tried, they cared, but ours was a club with a dreadful membership fee.

We got leave, purely because of Harry’s neck, and spent it in some town or other whose name I can’t remember. I was a bit out of touch with the world just then, and when we were presented with a new face at the tent we had been assigned, six days after Wilf’s death, I wasn’t best disposed.

“Is this Seven One?”

Ernie looked at the kid with the glasses and the acne in the painfully new battledress. “Fuck off, son. We’re on leave”

“Er, I’m assigned to this crew. Told to report and await issue of replacement vehicle. I’m… I don’t know what I should do. Do I bring my kit in?”

Ernie looked over to Bob, and Bob shrugged. “We knew it was coming, lad. Can’t duck it forever. Get your kit, boy”

That was the first we saw of Philip Jenkins. We buried him less than a fortnight later, after the weather had cleared and the Typhoons had finally been able to start killing Germans again. Philip died from a shot through the head while pissing against a tree. He had an aversion to a bucket inside Ollie, our new vehicle, he said. Obsessed with hygiene and always washing whenever he could, he had stepped away from Ollie, wriggled his little chap out, and his brains had gone all over his shoulders and the leaf litter beneath his feet. That was Philip.

In the end, though, Jerry had shot his bolt, and more and more we saw him hands up rather than trying to kill us. We still came up against the occasional die-hard, now with Bill up front, but they were fewer and fewer in number, even when we crossed that final border.

Mr Nolan called us all together.

“Gentlemen, thank you. We have been together for a long time now, and we have left far too many friends by the roadside. This is it: we are in Adolf’s own country, on his own land. That means things will be different. Now, I know some of you have enjoyed the rewards of liberating friendly nations from the hand of the enemy. I absolutely know that some of you found time to liaise rather more closely than others…”

Was he staring at me? I blushed anyway.

“This is different. This is Germany. We have killed their sons and husbands—“

A voice called out “Nowhere near enough of the fuckers. Sir!”

Mr Nolan smiled. “Point well made and taken in the spirit it was intended, Scott. And that is the essence of it. We are not liberating these people, we are invading and subjugating them. So, if a child asks for chocolate, imagine what its father has done. If livestock is available for the pot, the farmer’s livelihood is of no import. Private property is not to be respected for its own sake. There will be no fraternisation, no charity, no pity. They started this: we will finish it, and we will fucking well finish them! Any questions? No? Start your engines at 1000 hours”

I felt he was over the top, and did my best over the next few weeks to show that we were different. We were the Good Guys, as the films had it, the cowboys in the white hats. That was what those nurses had thought of Harry, a wounded hero, and I knew that he had managed, wounded or not, to have his way with at least two of them, which made our return to the line rather timely, but still: we had fought this war for the right reasons, and we should demonstrate that fact to the Jerries.

That ideal lasted all the way to April. We were in our usual place, out at the front, and it was so different. We weren’t on the stag for other tanks or guns any more but for stupid kids with panzerfausts, teenagers still caught up in the dreams of some failed bloody painter from Austria. My own dreams died as we approached some sort of camp. Bill was the first.

“What the bloody hell’s that stink?”

CHAPTER 10
The order came to halt, and an hour after Bill had handed round his own version of a brew, Mr Nolan was pulling up in a jeep.

“Can I have a quiet word, Sergeant?”

Bill looked up. “Brew, sir?”

“Later, Hamilton”

Bob walked off fifty yards or so with Mr Nolan while we found enough tea to give his driver a cuppa. I kept an eye on Bob, and it was worrying how he moved and held himself as the officer spoke. Something shitty for us again, I guessed, just when it was all nearly over. It always seemed to be the same for us, right from when we first rolled onto that Bobbin track. Mr Nolan finished, Bob just standing shaking his head, shoulders slumped, and then there was an odd moment as Nolan held his hand out to Bob’s and shook it before they walked slowly back to us.

Bill held a mug out to Mr Nolan. “My mug, sir, but I rinsed it first. Sugar?”

“No thank you, Hamilton. I already have a bad taste in my mouth, and sugar will simply make it worse. Thank you for the tea”

Harry laughed. “Well, it’s sort of tea, sir. Wet and warm and with a hint of some sort of leaf, anyway!”

Mr Nolan grinned, but there were dark circles around his eyes and the firebrand who had addressed us all just a few weeks ago seemed burnt out.

“Gentlemen, I thank you for the service you have rendered for your country over the last years. We have seen, we have experienced, things best forgotten, but that is the nature of war. I have something to ask of you that for once I am indeed asking rather than ordering”

Ernie muttered something about never volunteering, and Mr Nolan looked up from the absorbing contents of his mug.

“Indeed, Roberts, indeed, but this is a different place and a very different world to the one we left in France. There are…”

He paused, and I realised how taut he was holding himself, how tense he was.

“Some of you may have heard rumours. The Soviets have given information, as have some of the French. The Dutch have been rather specific, and now we have our own confirmation. Hitler has been disposing of those he does not approve of”

I nodded at him. "Aye, sir. We’ve seen some of the farms that Jerry went through. Buried a family ourselves”

“Oh Barker, you are still so innocent, even after all you have been through. There is hope for this world, after all”

I was a little embarrassed by that, to tell the truth, but he was still speaking.

“We are not talking about farms or villages, gentlemen, we are talking about factories, factories for death. Jews, bumboys, gypsies, anyone who doesn’t fit into Adolf’s twisted little world. They gas them by the hundred and then burn the bodies. By the hundreds every day, Barker, day after day after bloody day. The arithmetic is simple. We are talking about hundreds of thousands of people, if not millions, and we are talking about men, women and children, babes in arms, everyone. They gathered them together from all over Adolf’s empire and took them by train to their deaths, and in the meantime they didn’t bother with things such as feeding them”

He stared into his tea for at least a minute before speaking again.

“There has been some hard fighting for us, and we do not have the numbers we really need to take full control of what has been found. Yes, Hamilton, I can see it in your eyes: that smell. There is a place a little way ahead of us that I have seen and will, I truly believe, never be able to forget. Apparently it was a staging post for sending people to their deaths, and Jerry has not been too considerate of his guests. We are lacking in the necessary, as I said, and so a truce has been negotiated. Jerry is still there, and you will not antagonise him until we have sorted out this ungodly mess. That is why I am asking, rather than instructing. Marshal, we need drivers for tracked vehicles, for a start. The rest of you will be needed for general labour and anything else that may arise”

Harry looked puzzled. “Why tracked vehicle drivers, sir?”

An awfully deep sigh. “Bulldozers, Marshal. To move the bodies. Thank you for the tea, gentlemen. May I be assured of your willingness to help?”

Bob looked round at each of us in turn and got our nods. “Where do you want us to park up, sir? We can’t leave Ollie sitting around”

“I will gather the rest of your troop and then lead the way. You will leaguer just outside the guards barracks. Let them see how fragile their truce is. No baiting of Jerry, though. Let them each await their turn at the end of a rope, and trust me, they are mostly well aware of their future”

I slept fitfully that night, after my turn on stag, and was up before full daylight to get a brew on. An hour later, Mr Nolan was there, and the sound of Meteors starting up grew louder. We set off in column, which felt truly odd, for it would normally be an invitation to a gunner or a kid with a panzerfaust to have a go. I rode head out with Bob, and the smell of exhaust fumes, moist soil and dust was gradually but steadily overridden by something I never got rid of for the rest of my life.

It was shit, it was rotten meat, it was old socks. It was, in the end, indescribable and at the same time utterly foul. There was wire, and there were Germans, and there were…

There were figures. Some of them were moving, some weren’t. Many of the still ones were naked, and they were so thin I felt I would see through them if I held them to the light, bellies touching spines, faces…

I wasn’t the only one crying. We dismounted, and Bill went for one of the German guards as Mr Nolan called out a sharp “No!”

The Jerry glared at Bill, and Bill glared back, but he stopped, made a rope-tug gesture at the bastard and then spat at his feet before turning away. Bob was next to me, and I realised he was trembling. I squeezed his shoulder and called out to our officer.

“Where do you want us to start, sir?”

He indicated some Morris wagons a hundred yards away. “Give a hand offloading the crates over there, if you would. Marshal, with me, please. We have a dozer for you”

Harry sniffed loudly as he tried to hold his own tears in check. “Bit tricky steering it through this lot, sir”

“No, Marshal. Harry. The bodies are around the other side of the camp”

I looked at the death lying scattered and gaunt before me, and asked myself what exactly Mr Nolan was describing. Nolan called back as he led Harry away.

“Oh, and do not feed people. It will kill them”

I didn’t need to ask how he knew that, and when Harry came back at the end of the day he wouldn’t talk about what he had seen. We set the guards to clearing up the dead I could see. Bastards.

The next day, a trio of jeeps arrived with some staff officers, followed by a line of Bedfords. They were packed with civilians and accompanied by a group of military police, real ones this time. Harry nodded in a satisfied way.

“There’s a town just over there, lads. Happen as they don’t seem to have a sense of smell. I says to Mr Nolan, how about we get some of those Jerry bastards out to lend a hand? There’s loads to do, and they did this, they should get their fucking hands dirty”

“What’s to do, Harry?”

He looked at me for a long and dreadful moment. “Picking up and stacking, Ginge. Picking and stacking”

Ernie and Bill took stag for most of that night, and the next morning, I saw three more bodies naked in the yard beyond the barracks we were parked next to. They all looked much better fed than the others. I looked at my mates, and all I got back was a flat stare from Ernie and another spit on the ground from Bill.

In the end, after too many awful days, the medical staff began to get hold of the situation. We sprayed everyone with DDT, we gave them showers. They were moved to a nearby tank depot, and then we burned the whole place to the ground and I really wished we could have burned the Jerries with it.

I was told later that there were nearly fourteen thousand unburied dead there. Fourteen bloody thousand. More and more died as the RAMC did their best, but finally the tide turned and people started getting better rather than simply dying more slowly.

The war didn’t stop elsewhere, of course, but things were moving on at a rate I hadn’t expected. At the start of May, we had another visitor, a full colonel, and he called all of us into the traditional hollow square as a large number of MPs moved towards the German barracks we still sat by. Germans, unarmed now, were being rounded up and marched away. The colonel had the usual bray, but this time he seemed cheerful beyond any previous experience I had had of officers. Normally they tried to joke, or make light of things, but it was always an affectation, like that lieutenant in Normandy. Matthew? Godfrey? Whatever his name had been, this officer was genuinely bubbling.

“Stand easy, men. You may smoke. I have news for you. This morning, on Luneburg Heath, Monty signed a document with the Germans. All German forces in the Netherlands, northern Germany and Denmark have surrendered”

The cheers went on for several minutes, and lads were hugging each other and shaking hands. The colonel waited, smiling.

“Oh yes, one other bit of news: four days ago, someone rather resembling Mr Chaplin killed himself. The bastard is dead. We are all going home at last!”

More cheering, and another pause, before a more serious tone crept in.

“We still have a problem, men, and it is not one we have hitherto paid much attention to, and that is Ivan. He is advancing towards Denmark, and that is not somewhere he would be welcome. Accordingly, we have a little operation for you. The gentlemen over there are from REME, and they will be adjusting your steeds. They will, in simple fact, be removing the governors from your engines to allow you the full speed of which your mounts should be capable”

Harry said “What?” a bit too loudly, and the colonel heard. “What indeed? There is a wonderful network of modern roads in this little corner of Hell, and we shall use them. We already have flying columns en route for the Baltic, but they are devoid of heavy arms and certainly of armour. You will provide it”

Harry pushed it a bit harder. “Aye, sir, bit it’ll bugger tanks”

“Yes it will, my man, but tanks can be replaced. Soviet control of Denmark is not something our lords and masters will find palatable, and I rather suspect the Danes would concur. Jerry will not hinder this operation, but it starts as soon as the artificers are finished. This is pivotal work, men, absolutely vital. Please give it your finest efforts. Dismissed!”

CHAPTER 11
Bob was away for a few hours the next morning, and when he came back he was dragging a kitbag.

“Right, lads. There’s a lot been going on, so this is going to be a busy few days. Happen Ivan didn’t like the Jerries surrendering to us, and Jerry didn’t like to stop fighting Uncle Joe’s boys. They’ve sorted it now, but what we’ve got is a German government just outside Denmark. Being run by the bloke who was chief of the U-boats”

Bill spat, yet again. “Lovely company they keep, lads!”

Bob nodded. “Aye, so it is. Now, there’s all these Nazi chiefs and big nobs holed up there, and we are going to lift them before the Russians can get there. We’ve got a couple of troops of Honeys and some Daimlers, and I have scrounged these for us”

He tipped up the kit bag to reveal five helmets, the round ones issued to tank crews.

“Now, I know what I said…”

Ernie interrupted. “Aye, we remember. ‘Dump it, cut it off, throw it away, sleek as an otter gets you out before you burn!’”

Bob grinned. “You WERE listening, then! And there were me thinking you were having a bit of Egyptian P.T. Aye, I said all that, and I were right. We got out, didn’t we? Nothing to hang us up; no belts, no holsters, no tin lids. Remember that time Ginge shot that bastard in Belgium, and then couldn’t get out?”

A man arching his back in the snow, drumming his heels as his blood sprayed everything around him. The kick of the .45 in my hand. The ringing in my ears and the smell of cordite. Yes, I remembered. Bob was still talking.

“We will be pushing it on those autobahns, lads, and Ollie will bounce. That means you will, WILL, hit your heads. Nobody should be shooting at us, like, so we shouldn’t have to bail out, but I want everyone to arrive with the same amount of brains they left with. You’re excused, Bill”

Harry then spoke, for the first time in quite a while, I realised. “They got any gash boots anywhere, Bob?”

“Didn’t ask, Harry. Yours giving you gyp?”

Our driver looked bleak. “Not that, Bob. Just, well, they smell now. Can’t seem to get it out, somehow. Think I need to burn them”

He hadn’t been himself for days, had Harry. Whatever he had witnessed, whatever we had escaped, it had left a mark. He still came out with the jokes, just nowhere near as often, and I had noticed a sharper edge to his humour, a bleaker tone. There had been those three fresh and well-fed bodies at that camp. I really hoped those deaths had helped him get some demons out of his mind.

Mr Nolan was soon round.

“Mount up, boys. Bravo Eight will lead out for now, with the Yeomanry screening ahead. You will see large numbers of Jerries, and they are not to be fired on unless they are so incredibly stupid as to play games with us. The East Ridings will be behind you. It is about one hundred and eighty miles. If we can do that in a day, I will be rather gratified, but I suspect that will not in fact be possible. We shall do it as quick as we can, though. I have given my word, and I know I have your willingness and readiness for the task. REME will be with us, of course, and we have Pathé along for their own purposes. This one last push, and then we are going home. Do I have agreement?”

There was a shout of approval, but Harry muttered darkly “Still got bloody slitty-eyed bastards to fight, ain’t we?”

Didn’t I know it. It was a nightmare we all had, of finally getting through the slaughter in France and Belgium only to be packed off for Burma, or worse. Stick to what’s in hand for now, Gerald.

The Tiffies had finished on time, and for once we were treated to a real smile from Harry as he warmed up the engine. “Bloody hell, lads! Listen to her! Like bloody racing car!”

Bob grinned back. “Aye lad, but it were Jerry who started this race. In…Pole position”

We were still snorting at that one an hour later, as we finally set off up the incredible roads the Germans had built for themselves. God alone knows what speed Harry got up to, but Bob and I rode heads out, lids on and goggles down until I had a spasm of conscience.

“BOB!” I shouted over the roar.

“Aye?”

I pointed down into the turret. “Ernie’s turn!”

A truly gentle smile from him, as if to a favoured son who had just offered him something special, and a nod. I ducked down and gave the lad a prod, passing him my goggles. No words were said, just a quick lift of the eyebrows followed by a grin and a handshake. I tried to make myself comfortable in his little place, but the tank was jumping and vibrating fit to burst. An hour later, Ernie was back down, shouting at me. “You have to see this, Ginge!”

The German roads were really amazing things, with two separate roads for each route, each of two lanes with one road for traffic in each direction. These carriageways were separated by a wide central strip covered in grass, and after I struggled past Ernie I looked out to see field grey everywhere. German soldiers, still armed, were marching down the grass, what looked like ten abreast, and their column went on for miles. They didn’t exactly look happy, from what I could see, but they did look relieved. I prodded Bob.

“Ernie said I had to see this, and he were right!”

Bob laughed. “Not this!” he shouted. “Look behind!”

There were some Yank six-by-six wagons with us, carrying the East Riding boys, and those immediately behind us had doffed their tops, dropped their braces, and hung their naked backsides out over the side of the truck to face the Germans with a row of bare arses. Bob was chuckling happily, in the best mood I could remember.

“Bloody good job those Pathé boys aren’t here to film that!”

I felt a tug on my leg, and Ernie passed up his favourite bit of loot, a Leica. I duly recorded the events, as Harry later put it mordantly, for posterity.

In the end, we lost four tanks from Bravo Seven to mechanical failure, two of those being broken tracks, and it took us a day and a half. The terrain had got flatter and flatter the further north we went, but after we crossed a huge canal it started to get a little bit lumpier again. Mr Nolan had called us together again at that first night’s leaguer, and I was sure his sense of humour was getting as dark as Harry’s.

“Gentlemen, there are times when the reality of our daily life strives to outdo the works of our finest comedians. Jerry, in the form of Admiral Doenitz and General Jodl, has decided to, ahem, offer his services as a provisional government for what is now a defeated and occupied nation. All in the spirit of continuity and a steady hand at the tiller, it seems.”

“I hope he’s been told to fuck off, sir!”

“Thank you, Marshal, and I will take that entirely in the spirit in which you offered it. Jerry has indeed been told to fuck absolutely and completely off, and when we arrive we will be taking all of them into custody before a decision is made as to how exactly they are to fuck off. I anticipate a rope will be involved in most cases. This place is the last redoubt for their despicable little band, and that means that the civilians there are largely their families or other hangers-on. No fraternisation, gentlemen, none at all. You will remember Belsen, and understand what these vermin are and what they have done. It is delousing time for Flensburg. Oh yes: I do not believe they have been formally notified of our arrival. We start engines at first light. Any questions? Yes, Marshal?”

“Any chance of new kit catching up with us, sir? Need a change of boots”

The light was poor, but I am absolutely certain I caught the glint of a tear in our officer’s eye. His tone was gentle as he assured Harry he would do all he could to help, and I understood he wasn’t just talking about new boots. It wasn’t just our vehicles that were breaking down.

Off in the early dawn, and through the remnants of a town called Schleswig. It was a little hillier here, but it was gratifying to see that some attempt had been made to flatten things, probably by the RAF. Ollie was still running sweetly when we started out along a hog’s back ridge, which gave me the shivers at the thought of what well-sited AT guns would do to us, and then I had to look twice at one road sign still, bizarrely, in place. It read ‘Japland’ to my tired eyes, which brought back the thoughts of having to ship out again for somewhere hot and nasty, but it also read ‘Danmark’.

We pulled up at the top of a sloping road that led down to what was clearly the middle of the town, as the East Riding boys pushed through, and so we missed all the fun, but Mr Nolan was full of the tale later. All the nobs had turned out in their full fancy dress, all eagles and shiny boots, ready to discuss how they would ease a new administration into place, only to be marched off under arrest at bayonet point. It seemed we were going to miss all of the good bits.

That evening, sleeping in a billet in a house some Jerries had been moved out of, I heard the water running next door, and realised Harry was washing his hands again.

CHAPTER 12
Life settled down after that. It was strange to find ourselves with a proper billet; stranger still to find that we had a servant, in the form of an unsmiling local woman.

We popped over into Denmark a couple of times when we had a weekend pass, and I was struck very hard by the contrast between the Danes and the civilians we had seen in Holland. These people were well-fed indeed, even when compared to what the people at home were like.

We had the Army Education Corps around all the time now, as well as the Kinema, and the strangeness continued. Ivan had one of the Danish islands, for a start, and the rumour mill was turning at full speed. Were we off to Burma, or were we about to start up once again with the Russians? All kit was in a state of readiness, watches stood and formalities retained, and there were these earnest officers-by-default giving us lectures about what we were now entitled to now Winston’s lot were out.

That wasn’t all they told or showed us. I had thought Belsen was bad, but Jesus Christ! The more I learned of what they had done, the less sympathy I found in myself for the people I had killed and wounded over the last year. Harry, though, he just sat and wept in the darkness, and he wasn’t the only one. Industrial, that was the young tutor’s word. Belsen had apparently been all about neglect, but those other places were factories that people entered and smoke left.

At the same time, some lads were being demobbed. It was truly weird.

Two months went by, then three, and then there was a call for the obligatory and traditional hollow square. We were still mixed up with other units, so it was a collection of all arms that stood to listen to some donkey-walloper full colonel. Mr Nolan was in front of us, so we were a little bit careful about our behaviour, right up to the point where he looked over his shoulder with a grin.

“I know what this is about, boys! TEN-SHUN!”

The colonel climbed onto a packing crate in the middle of the square, looked around at us and smiled.

“Stand at ease! Stand easy; you may smoke”

Harry had a gasper lit straight off. “Fucking Burma…”

Mr Nolan hissed quietly for silence, and our colonel carried on.

“I will come straight to the point, men—“

“Told you so”

Another hiss from Mr Nolan, and the senior officer continued.

“In the last few days, two bombs of a new type have been dropped on Japan. Each bomb, in its own right, has destroyed a large city. Each bomb, gentlemen, has destroyed, on its own, an entire city. In addition to the bombings, Generalissimo Stalin has informed our nasty little friends that the Soviet Union is now at war with them and their army is now attacking the Japanese in Manchuria. It is beginning to look, men, as if this war is finally coming to an end. Our leaders have issued an ultimatum: unconditional surrender or, as I am sure you would heartily concur, their home islands will be levelled. We await the Japanese response. That is al. Oh yes; cheering is now officially endorsed. A rum ration has been arranged”

He was right, and after we were dismissed there was a Bedford with Bob at the back, the jars of something nicked off the matelots, a great pile of tin mugs and a lot of grins. Men laughed and slapped each other on the back, swapped addresses, made promises they hoped to keep. Photos were shown, or simply taken out of wallets and stared at. When the issue was done, the five of us found a quiet spot in the sun and yarned. Ernie was ecstatic.

“Know what this means, boys? Ada’s going to say yes!”

Bob raised an eyebrow. “Ada?”

“My, er, fiancée…”

Bill hooted with laughter. “How long has that been going on?”

Ernie was a little pink. “We got engaged the day I left for Pompey. Her mam, she says happen as she won’t be a war widow if we leave it till after hostilities, aye? Real ray of sunshine, her mam”

Harry had a rare smile. “So, that Belgian lass you had in that hay loft…”

“Aye, well…”

“And those two French lasses you boasted about!”

Ernie’s face fell. “Sort of thing been worrying me, like. All them Yanks back home, all of us over here…”

Bob squeezed his knee. “If she had the eyes to pick you out, lad, she has the heart to stick with it”. Hang fire for a bit”

H returned with what was left of a jar of rum. “Fill up lads, and a toast, aye?”

We waited as he poured.

“Firstly, lads, to Ernie and Ada. Long may they be together, and may they be as happy as Ernie’s news has made the rest of us. Ernie and Ada!”

“Ernie and Ada!”

Bob looked round at each of us in turn. “Lads, we’ve come through it, it looks like. I wasn’t sure… sod it, lads. I really thought at times we wouldn’t, aye, especially when that fucking…sorry, it’s the rum. When Ginge shot that bloody Tiger. I really thought we were dead and burnt, just then. So, to Harry, whose driving was without par. To Ernie, who had the right one up the spout at all times. To Ginge here, whose shooting was so, so good. To Bill, who has a kick like a bloody mule. Aye, Bill, you missed that bastard in Belgium a couple of times and kicked me!”

Bill roared with laughter. “Didn’t say owt at time, did you?”

Bob grinned back. “Happen I were a bit busy, lad. To us!”

Harry looked up from his mug after that one, and just said, very quietly, “To Wilf”

That sobered us, but we did our best to put that right. The next morning, they retired Ollie, and we were the owners of a shining new Comet. Ernie and I looked at the main armament, then at each other, and shook our heads. NOW we got a weapon that could actually touch the enemy! And the only enemy we had surrendered on August the fifteenth, thank God.

Summer edged into Autumn, and then into Winter. We had a Displaced Person’s camp next to us, mostly Jerries but with a mixture of other people gathered from all over Europe. We sorted out a Christmas party for the kids, even the Jerry ones. A bairn is a bairn, a kiddy is a kiddy. You can’t blame them for what their dads did, nor should you. I was full of optimism back then. It was a new world, a new society. The war was done and now we could gather up the rewards. The five of us were together again after the party, so as to avoid silly splits with things like the messing arrangements, and Ernie was watching the little ones. Bill noticed.

“You and Ada after kids, Ernie?”

A sharp nod. “We weren’t sure, like, what with war and bombing, but it’s so much brighter now. Better world for a new life, aye? Who you got at home, Bill?”

“I have my eyes on a lass I were at school with: Mavis Bradley. If she’s still about, well, I might just follow your lead, Ern. I mean, she’s been writing steadily, so I have hopes. Bob? Ginge? We know Harry’s half Rolls-Royce, like”

I was a little embarrassed, but gave him back a grin. “Nobody for me, really, at least nobody I’ve said owt to. There’s a girl, though; her dad has a pub out towards Tadcaster”

Bill was laughing again, a sound becoming more and more common as the days grew shorter. “A lass with a pub! I like your attention to the important things in life, lad!” Bob?”

Once again, that gentle, sad smile. “Happen as I haven’t really found the right one yet, lads”

Bill was still chuckling. “You’ll probably find her working in the VD clinic! Er, sorry, bit too quick with my gob there”

The gentle smile stayed, but I could feel the sadness in it, and I understood. We all knew lads who had lost someone at home, from the Blitz or the doodlebugs, and I really suspected that Bob was one of them. Leave it alone for now, I told myself. If Bob needs or wants to talk, he will.

New Year’s Eve came and went, and there was snow on the ground. I gave thanks again for a proper billet, remembering those freezing days when the Germans had counterattacked so viciously, and as always my mind’s eye held the image of a man in the snow, back arched and heels drumming. I was lost in thought, walking down a street near the local HQ with Bill, when a jeep pulled up and to my astonishment a naked man was thrown onto the roadway. There was a Bedford behind, and a dozen or more MPs. Bill muttered darkly “What the fucking hell are those monkeys up to?”

What the monkeys were up to was kicking the naked man, who I saw was handcuffed, while screaming “Raus, raus you cunt”, One of them drove the butt of his rifle into somewhere near the man’s kidneys, and he screamed. Bill started forward, and two redcaps got between him and the prisoner so quickly I didn’t see them move.

“Leave it, private”

“With all due respect, Corporal, what the bloody hell is going on here?”

“Nothing to worry about, lad. Just a wanted war criminal on his way to be interrogated”

“You’ve already interrogated the shit out of him! What the hell is he supposed to have done?”

Bill stepped back, and the two MPs turned to follow the rest of their detachment. The corporal called back over his shoulder.

“Name’s Hoess. Ran a place called Auschwitz. And our boss there, he’s Jewish. Got any rope?”

CHAPTER 13
I did some reading after that, after they dragged him screaming into their private little world, and years later I found out more.

Hoess was an odd mix, one minute claiming it was all a big mistake, his men misinterpreting his orders, and the next minute boasting about how efficient he had made his disassembly line for human beings.

They took his testimony, they used it against the rest of the shits, and they didn’t hang him. Instead, they sent him to Poland, where a short-drop gallows was constructed in a dark echo of a bespoke suit, and they DID hang him, out there in the open for the survivors to see. His wife may have cried for him. I doubt anyone else did.

Bob called us into his billet for a cuppa in March, and he was restive.

“It’s come, lads”

Ernie was the first to ask, and Bob gave us his gentle smile. “Demob, boys. You’re off home. Mr Nolan’s been working through the troop lists, sorting the hostilities boys from the TA, the TA from the regulars. Married men off first, of course”

Ernie was bristling. “And us nearly-weds, like?”

Bob laughed. “You’re on first draft, lad, you and the other three. Five days’ time and you leave for Cuxhaven and a boat to Harwich. That do you?”

He sat grinning for just enough time for the words to strike home. “And Mr Nolan is offering each man a telegram, just in case there’s someone they’d like to warn, like. So they can make sure the Yank’s out of the house—“

A cushion hit him in the face, thrown by Bill, and then it was more laughter, and it was like the day the rum was issued. Promises were made, photos were shared, and throughout it Bob kept the same sad smile in place. This was the same man who had slapped me to get my mind on the enemy instead of my own fear, who had pulled me out of a burning tank and thrown me clear as Wilf sat smashed in his seat. I looked across at him in a lull in the chatter.

“And you, Bob? When are you off?”

“Ah, Ginge, always straight on target, aren’t you? Regular army, that’s me. Someone has to stay behind, what they call a cadre, aye? We'll get new lads out, young boys…”

He paused, and looked round our faces. “I keep forgetting, lads. Young boys is what you are, isn’t it? Not right, this, not right. You boys should have been at college, or getting on in a proper job, and what have we done to you? Shitty world, lads, shitty world. Anyways, I will be resting here, or mebbes down to another posting in Germany, training up new crews. You lads, if I were you, I’d be packing. Aye, and first, get the words sorted for your telegram. Ernie, be one for your young lady, like?”

Ernie was serious now. “Don’t rightly think so, Bob. Happen as I’ll send one to the old woman, she can let the lass know. I think Mam should have the benefit”

Harry was shaking his head. “No, lad, no. Think on: your old mother gets the telegram boy at the door, what’s she going to think? That you’ve copped one somehow, aye? Send it to thy lass, and explain why to the old woman when you get back. She’ll understand”

Bob was nodding. “Spot on, Harry. Who are you sending one to?”

“My uncle Albert, I think. I… Jerry did for the rest of the family. They were in Anderson shelter in back garden. Whole row took a stick of bombs, and they were buried, and water main fractured, and…”

He looked away for a while. “Uncle Albert, aye. He’ll do”

“Ginge?”

“Aye, Bob? Oh; Mam, of course. Bill?”

“Aye, same here. Dad said he’s got a place for me in local engineering firm, so he’ll need time to sort out wheres and whyfores and whatnots. Be strange, like. No uniform. No reveille. No bull”

Ernie laughed again. “And nobody shooting at you? You forgot that one!”

I grinned at him. “Ernie, mate, at least you couldn’t see the bastards doing it! I won’t miss THAT, I can tell you!”

“Sorted then”, said Bob. “Three days’ time we meet here again, and we say farewell, make sure we’ve got forwarding addresses, stuff like that. That gives us a day to get over the hangover before you set off”

Bill perked up. “Hangover? On NAAFI beer?”

Bob’s cheekier smile was back. “On NAAFI beer and the bottles of schnapps I bribed my little kraut batman to dig up from his cellar”

As usual, his organisation was immaculate, and the hangover was just about gone as we clambered into the back of a Bedford for the long drive to what was left of the port of Cuxhaven. Bob was standing there among a group of other stay-behinds, surrounded by comrades, and yet he still looked absolutely alone. We had been a crew, a unit; to be pretentious but still absolutely correct, we had been a weapon, and a bloody effective one. Apart from one kid too prissy to pee inside the tank, we had worked together far better than should have been expected. We had lost Wilf, which would always hurt, but Bill had fitted in so well I sometimes forgot he was a newcomer, and interloper, an offcomer.

Bob had been the catalyst, but we had each done our part as well as anyone else, but so many of them lay now like Wilf, waiting for Graves Registration to gather them up and put them together where we would be able to come and visit some day. I made the promise to myself, that I would be back, that I would honour the grave of my friend once his place had been prepared.

Off we went, bouncing down the road with a raw wind cutting round the sides of the canvas. Goodbye to Germany, I thought, goodbye to fat brown and white calves and comfortable country views. Well, it stopped being comfortable quite quickly. Some parts of Schleswig Holstein, like Kiel, may have been bombed, but it was nothing compared to what we saw as we approached the industrial areas close by the port. All I could think of was Fountains Abbey, but city-sized. Walls reached up and didn’t meet roofs, sunlight poured unhindered through where windows had been and while the Sappers and civvy labourers weren’t working, dull-eyed Germans simply stared at us, moving only when some of the lads threw out cigarettes or sweets. Then, there was sudden action, including the occasional blow. I almost felt some sympathy, but then remembered Hoess.

You started this. You were behind Belsen, and that place Hoess ran. You reaped the bloody whirlwind, and it was called the Royal Air Force. That brought another thought: what the hell had the Yanks dropped on the Japs that had done so much more than this bombing? I realised I did not want to know, actively did not wish for any more knowledge. What was done was done, and we were going home.

“Dismount! Muster by troop!”

Monkeys, of course. I gathered what kit I had and slung it down to Ernie, followed by his own, and we looked across the rubble to see a makeshift jetty with some sort of passenger liner tied up to it. One of the monkeys was shouting, as they usually did.

“You are lucky little tankers today, for you is not going on some cargo ship with its holds full of charpoys and pukes but on a proper Irish ferry with cabins and real toilet paper. Sling your kitbags and form column of fours!”

“By the left—“

The monkey had been right. We had a cramped little room—cabin—with bunk beds for the four of us. No window, porthole, whatever, and it was a bit airless, but we had come through the whole of the campaign in something a lot more tightly squeezed. We could cope. There was space beneath the lower bunks, berths, that was their name, to slide our kitbags in, and there was a dining room that did teas, and Germany was soon moving in the other direction, which was away from us, and that, as far as I was concerned, was the right fucking direction and unless it was to visit Wilf I never, ever wanted to see it again.

There were proper toilets on board, too, bogs, heads, whatever the matelots called them, and six hours after we left port Harry went into one after throwing his boots away, and put the muzzle of a Webley into his mouth before pulling the trigger.

CHAPTER 14
There was a court of inquiry in Colchester, a sort of inquest affair. They took each of us in turn, each of his mates, and gave us everything but the rubber truncheon. I assumed they were trying to find out what we had done to push him over the edge, and I was only just beginning to realise how close to the edge he had been and what had kept him from stepping off.

It let me see how close we had all been. It was only our little family that held us together, and Harry had seen us leaving him.

There were three officers behind the table and they looked as tired as I felt. It was obvious they considered that the dying should have finished, but here they were to pick over yet another loss.

“We didn’t really hear the shot, for there was that much noise on the ship with so many soldiers it was hard to think, it was just the shouting that brought us out”

One of the officers, a major, picked up a bit of paper.

“He left a note, Barker, tucked into his paybook”

Can I see, sir?”

It was short and to the point in an absolutely brutal way.

“I can’t get the smell out of anything I wear. I can’t sleep without seeing them. Without my crew I would have been done months ago. Please tell my uncle it was an accident. Your mate Harry”

That was it. No love to give, no messages, just shut the door after I leave. I had been learning how to hate since June, and now it got worse. I had slept on the deck for the rest of the voyage, trying to avoid Harry’s traces in our room, but it had to be faced. I looked up at the major, tears pressing at my sight.

“Barker, we are simply looking to find a reason for this. From the position of the body, we have to assume it was suicide. Why would he do that? Do you have any notions?”

“I know he lost his family in the Blitz, sir. I think that were part of it. Then there was…”

“Go on”

“We were at a place, sir. A camp. What we saw were bad enough, like, but Harry, well, he were asked to do extra stuff, on account of being a driver. Tracked vehicles, that is. They had a bulldozer”

“Where was this?”

“Place called Belsen, sir. A very bad place”

“Ah. I see”

“Harry were never the same after, like. Sense of humour went, he got very moody. Said he needed new boots after, said it over and over again. Said he couldn’t get smell out of them”

Another officer, a captain, looked at a piece of paper on the table they shared.

“Private Marshal was found without his boots, sir”

“The Webley?”

The major looked at me. I swallowed, wondering what shit I might catch.

“Webley came from our tank, I think, sir. Our skipper, our sergeant, Bob Wainwright, he weren’t too happy with issue kit”

“Pray explain, Barker”

“Sergeant Wainwright had been through the desert, and Italy, like, and he said he’d seen too many people, too many mates burn because they got stuck getting out. He had us modify us pixie suits---er, I mean our tank suits. Cut the belt off, get rid of the holster. We never wore the tin lids, er, helmets, neither, because all of that gets caught up when you try and get out in a hurry”

I paused. “He were dead right. One time we were shot up, all of us got out except Wilf, but then round went through where he were sat, so…”

The major nodded. “The Webley?”

“Sergeant Wainwright got two for Stan, our tank, and we managed to fit the holsters inside the turret, right where we needed them. Looks like Harry lifted one as we left Germany”

“Were they ever used?”

“Yes, sir. Once”

Heels drumming in the snow. “I shot a German with one in Belgium. It were just before we got brewed up”

“I see”

He looked around his colleagues. “Anything else, gentlemen?”

Another major looked up at that. “Barker… did you have any reason to suspect that Marshal was planning something like this?”

“No, sir. We were like a big family, really. Wilf had even named his kid after us all. We were right close. As I said, he just sort of lost his sense of humour. That were all. I didn’t think he was, well, that bad. I mean, I knew he were bad, but…”

I drew a few breaths to get the words in order. “We are all bad, sir, all of us, and anyone that says he isn’t is either a liar or weren’t there. I dream, sir, I dream waking and sleeping. What dreams Harry had, I really never want to know”

The first major nodded sharply, and they all sat silent for a few seconds as he shuffled some papers. He looked to left and right, receiving two more sharp nods from his peers.

“Thank you, Barker, that will be all. You are dismissed. Please send the next man in”

I walked out in a daze and nodded Ernie towards the room. Harry had been so strong, so solid under fire, and then he was gone. It made sense, in a way: he had been part of us, part of our family, and it wasn’t just the support we gave each other, it was, well, his bit in giving that support. I remembered how he wouldn’t talk about what he had had to do in that camp, but he had got up each morning and done his duty, because if he hadn’t done it the shitty end of the stick would just have been handed to some other poor soul. He drove with his head out most of the time, had driven rather, and I wondered how much of that had come from the smell he couldn’t lose.

Ernie was half an hour, then Bill. The latter came out shaking his head. “NAAFI, boys? Brew, or a pint?”

It was a pint, of course, and a few more before we found our way to our temporary billets. It had seemed as if the day had no end, but for Harry that was no longer relevant. Ernie whispered from his pit.

“You think they’ll go for accident, Ginge? Save the poor fucker’s family?”

“I hope so, Ern, I really hope so. He’s got nowt else left”

Three days later, we got the verdict, which was ‘accidental discharge’ and ‘death by misadventure’, and that left his Uncle Albert free to remember a Mention in Dispatches rather than see his boy buried facing the wrong way. Two days later, and Bill, Ernie and myself were handing back our kit and receiving odd things called ‘shoes’ that I dimly remembered. The QM’s lads let us keep our boots and battledress, but the pixie suit went along with all our webbing and badges. Bill held up his BD trousers.

“What the hell do I do with these, lads?”

One of the stores boys laughed. “Keep you warm when your coal ration’s gone, mate!”

We each got a suit, a shapeless, baggy thing, and a chit for our accumulated pay, which was when it struck me that we were no longer soldiers. It was over: our little group was parting, each going their own way. I found myself on a train to London with the other two, and we would be together only as far as King’s Cross. It was all too quick. Before my mates set off for the other station, Ernie called across.

“Hey, Ginge? Happen we’ll get together and have a trip out to see Minnie, aye? Give the lad our blessing!”

“Aye, that’ll be good, pal. What about you, Bill?”

“I feel a bit out of that one, lads. I mean, well, I didn’t know him, obviously…”

Ernie slipped an arm round his shoulder. “You filled his place for us lad, you didn’t replace him, aye? Different man, different story, but you are still one of us. I’ll write to her, fix a date, and we’ll go together. These last two years, they won’t just go away. Trust me there”

I knew what he meant, and like Harry I remembered it every night. “Ernie?”

“Aye, Ginge?”

“Give your lass one for all of us, aye? And when you set a date…”

The daft sod blushed. “I were going to write to you, Ginge. I don’t do so well face to face, like. Happen we’ve set a date, and it’s next month, in Thirsk, aye? And, well… fuck it, Gerald Barker, will you be my best man? I were going to write, like, as, well, don’t take it the wrong way, but I were thinking of Bob, and he’s still over there. Doesn’t make you second best, lad. Just, well…”

He squeezed Bill again. “I’ve been right lucky in this war, luckier than Wilf or Harry, and I were dead lucky to know them. REALLY lucky, I mean. There’s none of you that’s second best to nobody, right? None of you. I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t be getting wed if it weren’t for all of you, so will you do me the honour of standing by me in church?”

He was nearly in tears, and so I had no real choice. He was wrong, though. He was honouring me, not the other way round.

Bill laughed at us both. “Me to organise the stag night, then?”

More laughter, swift and firm handshakes, and I was alone for the first time in years.

CHAPTER 15
I opened the back door and stepped back two years. The smell was the same, but the colours seemed just a little more worn than I remembered.

“Mam! I’m home!”

She hit me like some great tidal wave, squeezing and kissing, crying and trying to talk at the same time. Dad simply stood in the doorway to our back room, smiling and fiddling with his pipe in what I realised was his way of holding his own emotions in check.

“Let the lad go, Lil. Son, welcome home. And bloody well done”

Mam sniffed. “Language, Sidney!”

Dad laughed. “I am sure Gerald here has heard a lot worse than that, pet”

He looked me up and down, and his voice changed. “Seen a lot worse too, I’ll bet. Come on, son. Lil, get kettle on. Happen he’s had a long journey. Right, lad?”

In more ways than one. I dumped the kitbag and settled into the familiar sofa as Mam busied herself in the kitchen, cups clattering away as she sang some stupid song or other.

“Mam!”

“Yes, love?”

“Got a bag of sugar and some other bits in kitbag!”

“Bless you, son!”

I looked over at my father. “Got some photos as well, Dad. Some aren’t for Mam’s eyes, aye?”

“You’ve grown, son. Aged, I mean. I… it were bad, weren’t it?”

“Aye, Dad. You know what it’s like. But it’s over now”

“It were meant to be bloody over in 1919, but it never is, is it? You all right?”

I thought about that one for a few seconds before replying. “No, not really. How is it for you, Dad? Do you dream?”

A shadow went over his face. “Every night, son. Every night. Your Mam, well, look. Talk down pub later, aye?”

Mam came in just then, and she had the best china out, together with some fish paste sandwiches she had cut up into triangles, and so we left the subject alone for later discussion. Mam only needed to know that I was home and I was safe.

“Mam, did you see that tin box in kitbag when you got the sugar?”

“Aye”

“Can you pass it us? Got some pictures in there, show you who I were with”

Ernie had spent some of our stay in Colchester getting extra prints done of his Leica shots, and they were the best record I had of our time together. I sorted them out quickly, some being a bit too much for a welcome home.

“That’s the crew, Dad. Ernie got one of the other drivers to get this shot. That’s Bob, our sergeant, commander, aye? Me on left, Ernie, he’s our loader, good lad, he’s the one on my left. Wilf were our bow gunner, on right, and that’s Harry, our driver”

I paused. “Wilf went when an anti-tank round went through his position. Got a lad called Bill in for him, after, well, first replacement didn’t last too long”

I sipped my tea, which had too much sugar. “Harry went as well”

Leave it at that, I thought, but Dad saw something in my eyes. He said nothing, though, just squeezed my shoulder. I continued passing the photos around.

“Ah! This isn’t one for Mam’s eyes, I think. We were going down this big German road, and it were like two whole roads, one for each direction, aye? And in the middle it were German soldiers, surrendered ones, marching the other way, as far as you could see, and we had some lads from Hull in the wagons behind us, and, well, they decided to show Germans what they thought”

It was a remarkably clear picture, a line of naked arses hanging over the side of the lorry. I had missed it before, but among all the downcast German faces one head was up, glaring at the East Ridings and making a very rude gesture. I passed it to Dad, and he burst out laughing before looking at Mam.

“Shall I? Oh, all right, then. Here you are, Lil”

Her own laughter was almost as raucous.

“Ernie’s camera, that one. Got it from a German truck we shot up”

From a dead German we shot up, I meant, the camera miraculously undamaged in the midst of the wreckage and blood.

“Ernie’s getting wed next month, Dad. Up in Thirsk. He wants me as best man”

“Then he has a good head for mates, son. Be just right, that, with timing. Give you a month to get your feet back on ground before you find yourself some work. New world, now. New country”

“Dad, I haven’t exactly come out with a trade, have I? Not much call for a gunner in Yorkshire these days, is there?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You worked with machinery, aye? Happen as boatyard will probably want lads who know how to use a spanner. I’ve already had a word”

“Dad…”

“No, son, I’m not setting out your future. You’re a man now, more than many older lads will ever be, those that sat it out at home. I’ve lined you up with something that can tide you over till you decide what you want to do with your life, because your life starts now. All of that is over, aye? Finished. Now you get to be Gerald Barker and not a number”

Mam sniffed. “And not a name on a headstone for us to grieve over, and that’s God’s honest truth”

Dad nodded. “Absolutely right, Lil. Now, son, Mam’s got a rabbit for tonight, so sup up, go and get settled into your room, and after we’ve had us tea we’ll take a walk down the Boatman. That suit you?”

“Aye, it will”

We ate, and Mam gossiped about lads I’d been to school with and girls they’d wed, and apart from the general conversation about friends, comrades, I noticed that neither of them asked any sharp questions, certainly nothing about the things that woke me at night.

Feeling shabby in my demob suit, I walked with Dad down to the end of the street and turned right for the pub. Twenty yards from the door, he stopped me.

“Son, you don’t have to talk about it, but you have to. Sorry, that sounds all daft. What I mean is that you will want to talk about what you saw, but you can do it in your own time, aye? Happen…”

He drifted off, looking past me into something from his own youth, then shook himself.

“Gerald, I understand. I had some… experiences I have never talked about, aye? Never found right man. Never wanted to hurt your Mam, either, and, well. There are things men have to do, and they are not for women to know about. You’re dreaming, lad?”

I looked him in the eye, and all I could see was concern for his boy, for me. “Aye, Dad. I… look, we saw some things, one place, and the only one of us who saw it all...”

He waited, so patiently, till I could get it out.

“Our driver he were. Lovely man. Shot himself on boat back to Harwich”

He was silent for twenty, thirty seconds, and then began speaking in a low voice.

“I went over there in seventeen, son. Right into bloody retreat, a complete shambles. Germans got stopped somehow, then it all sat for a while until we were rolling them back, but it were still hell. Watched a mate drown in front of me, drown in mud. Nowt I could do. All of us, we all saw things like that. You won’t remember, of course, but I married your Mam in twenty-two, and best man were my old pal, my mate, Bert Ainscliff”

He paused again. “Bert shot himself in twenty-six. He’d been buried twice by shell bursts, bloody big mortars Germans had in their lines. Always a race to get a man dug out before he suffocates, and all the time you’re watching for another of the bloody things to come sailing over, cause you could see them, they came that slow, and then you had to guess which bloody way to run, and Bert left a note, and all it said was that he was sorry and he just wanted to be able to sleep. So, son, you talk when you need to. I’m here. I wasn’t for Bert”

Suddenly, and without any warning, he stepped forward and hugged me, just for three seconds, then let me go.

“Let’s get those ales in then. Happen you’ll have a bit of a thirst on”

Heads turned at the bar as we walked in, mostly older men but with one or two younger ones mixed in. Demobbed or reserved occupations, I didn’t care. I was home, and there was proper beer. The barman called over to Dad.

“Hello, Sid, and who’s this?”

“This is my boy Gerald”

“As I live and breathe, and you were nowt but a lad! Where’ve you been?”

“Stupid bloody question, Joe. Lad’s been off with tanks in Germany”

“Lucky boy! Better than being out in open, all that steel around you”

I had to say something. “Aye, suppose it is, right up to when it catches alight. Pint of Sam Smith’s for you, Dad? Two please, Joe”

PART TWO

CHAPTER 16
“So, ladies and gentlemen, now that I have thoroughly ruined Ernie’s character, as is traditional, can we now do the other traditional thing and raise our glasses to the bride and groom, Mrs and Mrs Ernie Roberts!”

There was the usual answering chorus, and I looked round a sea of unfamiliar faces in which my friends’ shone brightly. It almost felt like coming home.

Dad had come through on his promise, and I had started out as a trainee fitter at a river mooring and repair place at Bishopsthorpe. It wasn’t that far by bike from home, and to be honest I had got quite attached to the open-air life after so long with the Tanks. I didn’t miss the rough sleeping and the bad weather, of course, but it still felt right to have air to breathe rather than what someone else had left behind. Mr Dobbs at the boatyard was a remarkably patient man, and he set out his stall early on.

“I know where you’ve been, lad, and there’s some habits you’d best lose sharpish. Hurrying’s one of them. Nobody shooting at you here, so take it steady and get there right. Now, what I had in mind for today is to have a look at a couple of engines we’ve got to fettle. One’s a Lister, t’other’s a Bolinder. Old thing, that one—hear that? Thump, thump, thump? That’s one there, going down to Selby. They’re right odd engines, those. Lister’s a bit more modern. What did you have in tank?”

“Meteor. Rolls Royce thing, basically what they put in a Spitfire. V-twelve. Governed down, of course, without a blower, and with lower-octane fuel, of course”

He had smiled at that. “See what you’ve done there, lad? Given me more engine detail in ten seconds than most people will ever know. Now, lad, thing with these is they’re compression-ignition, and unlike petrol, their fuel’s a lubricant, and so…”

Patience is what he taught me, how to lay everything out tidily whether on a bench or down in the bottom of a boat. I didn’t get to like boats, exactly, but the work grew on me. There was a contemplative aspect to it, a sort of meditation, and Mr Dobbs had a saying or proverb for everything.

“Always right tool for right job, lad, right spanner for right nut. Unless you need the number-four adjusting spanner, of course”

“Not seen that one. Which is it?”

“Lump hammer, lad. Sometimes summat just needs a bloody great wallop with something heavy. Goes for folk as well, I always say”

The warmer days became a steady progression of increasingly complex jobs, each requiring the tool roll he gave me to be laid out neatly to one side of my work space, and only the occasional application of the number four adjusting spanner for things like recalcitrant propellers.

The dreams were still there, of course, but Dad never spoke to me again the way he had that first day back. He had cracked once, it appeared, and men didn’t do such things. Men were strong, steady, resolute and didn’t spend the small hours with tears in their eyes. I noticed that he was spending a lot more time on the settee at night rather than with Mam, and I thought I understood why. The same things were in both of us.

Ernie’s wedding was an event I had really looked forward to, and Mam did the honours with the shapeless sack I had been issued, almost making something elegant from it, even sewing on my ribbons. Dad bulled my shoes for me, and I rode the train up for the bus past the race course to St Paul’s, where Ernie and Ada tied the knot in traditional style helped by a hoarded parachute her brother had apparently ‘saved’ after a shooting down when the Germans had tried our defences from Norway. Our war never went away, it seemed, even at times like this.

Ada was a pretty girl, beautiful that day, and even without her heels on she was taller than Ernie by an inch, but the two were clearly besotted with each other. The service was indeed traditional, though Ada had apparently had to have Strong Words with my old comrade about that little word ‘obey’, which in the end did not make an appearance. God alone knows how many sugar rations had been hoarded, but the cake was impressive in both its size and in the speed with which it vanished. Some people seemed rather keen to get their ration back in one sitting, and more besides. Ada’s Mam kept some aside for my own parents, though.

Part way through the reception at the Railway Club, I noticed a young woman by the door, a child in her arms. Ernie caught my gaze, and called me over.

“Thanks for coming, love. Ginge, this is Minnie Braithwaite, and this must be…”

Minnie looked down. “Wilf Ernie Bob Gerald Harry Braithwaite. I wanted to come and say thank you, and Ernie here kept in touch, so here we are. Not best place for little tyke here, so I won’t stay too long. Just wanted to meet a couple of the lads that kept him safe so long. You’ll be Hawkeye, then?”

Eh? “You what? I mean, beg pardon?”

“Our Wilf, he were right taken with you. Said if you could see it, you could hit it. Censors took some stuff out, but Ernie here’s filled in blanks for us. Got lad from Chronicle to look up some photos of that big tank you blew up. That were a right good job, and our Wilf, God rest him, told me all he was allowed to”

I could feel the blush. “Not just me, was it? I mean, Ernie here was quick as flash loading, and Harry knew how to drive, and Bob was spot on with tactics”

“Aye, would have been nice to meet those two as well. They not back?”

“Oh, Bob’s regular army, like. Still in Occupation over there. Harry…”

I looked at Ernie, and he shrugged. I stuck with the lie. “Harry had accident on way home to Harwich. With a pistol”

Minnie winced. “Oh what a shame! After he’d got all through to end as well!”

That was my first real appreciation that there were things never told to those who hadn’t been there at one time or another, and worse: that they simply never considered what the bloody mess had done to those of us who had, indeed, been through it. I thought of Dad’s own hesitant attempts to get his own pain into the light, I thought of Harry, of that smell I still experienced at times of stress, and I asked the obvious question.

If we are normal, if we are human beings, is it actually possible to come through it and reach some cleaner shore on the other side? We said our platitudes, we wished each other well, and agreed that yes, it would be a good idea to travel one day to show the boy where his dad was and why.

“Oh, Ernie?”

“Aye, Minnie?”

“Got that picture of yours framed and in best room. It’s right good: I knew it were Ginge here as soon as I saw him”

He laughed. “Hair not a clue? We used to use him when running blacked out. Happen his hair’s so bright we’d tie him to engine deck to warn vehicles behind”

I made a mock slap at his head, the cheeky Arab, and we told tales of cooking and brews, camouflage and scrounging, and Minnie just smiled, thanked us again. Ada had joined us at that point, and Ernie introduced them.

After another ten minutes or so of tale-swapping Minnie checked her watch, pinned to her dress like a nurse’s. “Got to go. Two trains to get, and littl’un needs his rest. Thanks for all you did for his dad, boys”

She gave each of us a kiss on the cheek and was gone. She placed little Wilf on a bench and took a different train, one that didn’t stop at Thirsk. It stopped in the end, though, once the driver reacted. It seemed I was wrong, and others did carry some of the same wounds we did.

CHAPTER 17
We were winding down a little bit as the little band Ernie’s dad had hired played some slower tunes, including a very slow waltz that got a lot of couples onto their feet and each other. I was sitting at one of the tables with Bill and the new groom as his lady wife went to powder her nose.

“What happened to that lass, Ginge?”

“What lass, Ernie?”

“One in Tadcaster whose dad had a pub”

“Er…”

He grinned. “Made it all up? I understand, lad. We were all sort of dropped into middle of being grown-ups, weren’t we?”

I sighed. “Aye, you’re not wrong. I really felt like a kid back then, what with Bob and the other lads who’d been through it all before. Felt a lot like a fraud, Ernie”

“I was the same, Ginge. Bob was a lot more experienced, and happen I thought as to how I could never get that wise, aye? That Belgian, French girl?”

“Dominique?”

“Aye, the chubby one. That were your first, weren’t it?”

My blushing was still such an obvious thing, still that of a child. “Er, aye, she were”

Ernie patted my shoulder while Bill just snorted. “Still young, you are, lad. Happen you’ll see right lass just when you’re not looking. Hang on, what the hell’s he here for?”

A policeman had come into the hall, his duty armband on, but on the wrong wrist. He spoke to the barman, who pointed over towards Ernie and me, and he walked over to our table.

“Ernest Roberts? Gerald Barker?”

I looked at Ernie, then back at the bobby. “Aye, that’s us, and this is Bill Hamilton, constable. What’s the matter?”

“Do you lads know a Wilhelmina Braithwaite?”

Just then, I knew. I didn’t know what I knew exactly, but I knew it was bad, it was dreadful. Ernie found his voice first.

“Minnie? Is she all right, constable?”

“Do you mind if I sit down, lads? I’m Constable Longstreet”

Ernie looked over his shoulder. “Dad? Can you get us cup of tea for this chap? Ta!”

The policeman was well into middle age, one of those too old to have been put through the places we had been and not quite old enough to have been with my own father. . He took his helmet off and undid his cape, but left it on “Thanks, son. I could do with a pint, but I’m on duty, and the sergeant would smell it on me, so a brew would be lovely. This is a hard one. You knew Minnie Braithwaite?”

Dear God, that one word, ‘knew’. I groped for the words.

“Not the lad as well?”

He mopped his forehead with a somewhat grubby hankie, and sighed. “No, thank the Lord. She put him safe. Had him in reins, like, tied them to a chair in ladies’ waiting room, so he didn’t see, when, well…”

There was no need for more. We all knew what he meant. Ernie looked down. “Was it quick, constable?”

“Aye, suppose it must have been. It were the Edinburgh-London express, not due to stop till York”

Ernie’s voice was so soft I had trouble hearing him. “And how’s the driver?”

A cup of tea arrived, and our new friend took a sip, considering his words. “Well, not good, but you know what these things are right, I can see that from ribbons on your jacket there. LNER will see he gets some time off to get himself back together, if he can. Tell me: when did you see her last? She left a note with the babby”

I tried a smile. “She were here at the reception, just for a few minutes, like”

“How did you know the lady?”

“Her lad were in our crew. Tanks, that is”

“Ah. He, em, got left out there?”

Ernie murmured “We got hit by an anti-tank gun and he didn’t get out”

The policeman took another long sip. “I really think, really believe, that we didn’t hang enough of them. I were stuck here right through, watching lasses try and pick up pieces when another bloody telegram came through. I were up in Middlesbrough during hostilities, and there are a lot of widows there. That doesn’t go away”

He moved, as someone went past the table with a puzzled look at his presence, and his cape moved. His left sleeve was sewn up, contents gone. He caught my gaze.

“Aye, son, not always safe away from the front line. It were a bomb splinter, when Jerry had a go at the town. Now, Mrs Braithwaite, I have to ask this, aye? Would you say balance of her mind were disturbed?”

“Why do you ask, constable? That should be obvious!”

That came from Ernie’s dad, who had been keeping an ear towards the conversation. The bobby sighed.

“Mr Roberts, is it? It’s like this. We know what’s happened, we know every bit of it. She left a good long letter with the boy, and two people on platform saw her run and jump, and the driver saw her as she went in front, and he is still seeing her now, I would wager. There are lads cleaning train as we speak, cleaning her from it. It’s never a pretty way to leave this world, Mr Roberts, but what we want is to see that the boy gets the right story, aye?”

He paused to have a look round at each of us. “He either gets story of heartless mother who takes easy way out of having to look after him on her own and leaves him in the lurch, or he gets the woman who does something on impulse, rotten with grief for her brave dead soldier. I am sorry to be so blunt, but if I were that lad I would prefer the tragedy for my memories of Mam. She leaves here, the sight of you lot---Mrs Roberts?”

Ada had returned, and Ernie gave her his best poker face. “Could you let us have a few more minutes, love?”

Her eyes widened. “Minnie?”

Ernie nodded. “Boy’s all right, love. Just a minute or two, aye?”

Her eyes brimming with tears, she hurried off to her mother. Our policeman gave another long sigh, shaking his head. “I hate having to do this, and at your wedding as well. Not right. Not at all. Look, if we can agree she left here, the sight of you newly-weds and your families made her think of her husband, and that disturbed the balance of her mind, and, well. Look, if there had been no other witnesses, we’d have tried for ‘accident, aye? Slipped off platform. We can’t do that now, so all we can do is broken heart and impulse. Boy would never lose shame of it if it were seen as planned”

Ernie senior was nodding. “Thank you, constable. I see you are trying to do everyone a kindness. Do you need someone to identify the deceased formally?”

Constable Longstreet gave him a look, then, and all I could think of was charcoal, charcoal with teeth gleaming, and I knew there would be no identification. Some things were just too brutal.

“Ernie?”

“Aye, Ginge?”

“Happen we’ll do what we can for littl’un. Agreed?”

He just nodded, and I realised he had his head down to cover the fact that he was crying. I turned back to the bobby. “And what happens to little Wilf?”

“Ah, they’ve got him down police station, with doctor by to make sure he’s got nowt wrong with him. Then it’ll be children’s home, orphanage, unless he’s got grandparents or other relatives”

Ernie senior shook his head. “Orphanage is no place for a lad that young, nobbut a babby. We could take him in”

The constable frowned. “Should be family first, happen”

Ernie’s head came up. “He is family, Constable Longstreet. His dad were family, just like Ginge here, just like Bob and Harry and Bill. His dad earned that”

Bill looked over at Ernie’s dad, and then back at Longstreet. “Might be better with us, pal. I’ll have word with Mavis, but we’re hoping for one in next year, and she would be right made up to have a brother for him, if you follow my meaning. Ernie’s right: we’re family”

He held up both hands. “Not a word, lads, I know I never met the boy’s dad, but he were family, you are family. There are debts here, and they get paid in full. I’ll have words with wife, and you do the same, Mr Roberts”

“Ernie to you, son”

“Confusing that, so I’ll stick to the mister while the boy’s around. Look, constable, there is no way that little lad gets put in any home but a real one. If you find out---ah, over here, flower. This is Mavis, Constable Longstreet, my wife”

She offered him her hand for a quick shake. “How do. I heard the news. What about the babby?”

Bill took her hand. “They want him in orphanage, and I said, well…”

She pulled his hand to her stomach, holding it tight. “That boy comes home with us, constable. Call it fostering, call it what you like, but he gets a home. You find his family if you can, but for now he gets a proper home and people to care for him. Where is he?”

Longstreet was grinning now, and shaking his head. “Down the station. How could I ever stand up against you lot?”

Mavis sniffed. “Happen bloody Adolf couldn’t, so why should you be different?”

Bill laughed out loud, the mood breaking. “Language, flower!”

“Language can go hang itself. Get the car, the constable can show us where to go. Mr Roberts, can you get Mrs Roberts to make up a bed for him, for now? Get the little treasure to sleep tonight and then sort out where he goes in daylight when we haven’t got heads full of ale”

He nodded. “Son, it’s about time you took our daughter in law off to Scarborough. You have your honeymoon, and we’ll sort this one out. Bill? Here’s my hand. I see my boy weren’t just lucky to have met Wilf”

I spent that night in my own bed, but all through the dark hours I was on a hillside watching people burn again.

CHAPTER 18
The Ouse was low and slow, murmuring past the moorings as I laid out my tools. Somewhere overhead a lark was singing away, and there was a splash near the far bank as a vole dropped into the water. Dragonflies droned past, and when I looked down past the rail I saw a pair of dead eyes fixed on mine as a pike hung almost motionless, drifting slowly downstream as it waited for something to kill.

It never ended. Bob had written a short note the previous September, explaining how he was off in his shiny new Centurion to Korea, and with his letter he had enclosed a picture of his new tank. Why we had not had something like that in the War, God alone knew, but there it was. I remembered the rumours we had heard, about flying straight out to Burma once Jerry had chucked it in, and the promise that we were safe, and now here was Bob going off the same route. Just without the rest of us. Every month or so a little note would come, giving few details of what was actually happening to him but asking endless questions about home, about the boys, about what must have seemed like a dream of the past. What had Bob actually seen in the last few years, the better part of a decade, but war and preparing for it?

“Uncle Gerald!”

I dropped a spanner, but managed to knock it back onto the deck as I grabbed for it, and turned to the apron.

“Wilfie! Come here, lad, and give me a shake!”

Handshake be damned; he flung himself at me and tried to climb my legs, so I gave him a hug before throwing him up for a catch. He was getting a bit heavy for that, and I nearly dropped him like that spanner.

“Gerald Barker, you be careful with that boy! I just bathed him last night, and I’m not having him all mucky from Ouse!”

“Sorry, Mavis. How do? What brought you down here?”

She smiled, looking at the young boy I was now holding at my hip as tried to unfasten my overall pocket to get at the packet of sweets he hoped I had there.

“Happen it were a nice day, and the lad wanted to see his uncle the boatman. And David was in for a check at hospital in York”

“Nothing wrong with littl’un?”

“No, love, just part of all this new system. Seeing how the other half used to live, like”

I laughed. “From what I remember as a lad, it weren’t the other half, it was a much smaller fraction. Mam paid the scheme each week, but we were lucky. Never had to cash it in. How’s Bill?”

She smiled. “As he ever is, Gerald, as he ever is. Got two boys to spoil, and he didn’t have to work for one of them”

I lifted an eyebrow at that, and bless me if she didn’t blush. “Don’t you be so cheeky, Mr Barker. Anyway, you not courting?”

“Well…”

Another smile. “I know you’re working, but what have you got for snap? Summat from your Mam? Well, if you have a break for your dinner, WE have brought a proper picnic, haven’t we, Wilfie?”

“Yes, Mam! We’ve got sandwiches, and bananas! And Swiss roll!”

I looked at him, grinning away as he fished in my pocket. “How could I say no, then? I’ll have a quick word with the gaffer, then. Where do you want to go? If we go down opposite locks, it’ll have some boats for the lads to watch. Right, Wilfie, you’re getting to be a big lad now. You give your Mam a hand with your little brother, and I’ll go and get grease off my hands, right?”

“Right, Uncle Gerald! You want spam sandwiches or jam? Mam’s done me sugar ones an all!”

Mavis took the lad’s hand as I let him down. “Got some malt loaf as well, and don’t listen to him about spam. My Bill got a decent ham in from a lad at work, boiled up a treat. Car’s out front, we’ll wait”

That was a special afternoon. One lad ran around slapping his backside to be a cowboy on a horse, while his foster-brother staggered after him trying to work out what he was doing but laughing himself silly anyway. I’d boiled some water in the office for our tea, and while Wilfie tore through his jam and sugar sandwiches, and then the Swiss roll, I savoured some decent ham, with just a little mustard to set off the flavour, and the rich, deep sweetness of the malt loaf. Tea was drunk, boys watched, and I asked the question.

“Why are you really here, love? What’s on your mind?”

She sighed. “You were never a daft one, Ginge. That’s your trouble, my Bill says. You think too much. You’re not courting, are you? Thought not. Bill tells me you had some story about a girl whose dad had a pub, that right? To make you more of a man, aye?”

“You’re not stupid yourself, Mavis, but you’re wrong. I have my eye on a lass. Just need to find the right moment, like, to ask her out”

“Well, do tell, Ginge! I like a good romance, me”

I had to laugh at that one. “No romance yet, Mavis! Just lass I fancy, and I think she might just perhaps not be too frightened off. Just not used to, you know…”

She smiled, and her eyes were away in her past. “Aye, happen I know what that’s like! Spent far too long waiting for Bill to find his courage, so I just goes up to him and says William Hamilton, I says, you either ask me down to next dance or I’m going with Danny Ormiston, because he’s at least got the sense to get his tongue round words!”

A fond smile. “So he blushes, and he stammers, but he gets words out, and, well…”

She waved a hand at the two manic children. “I don’t think life can get that much better than this, Ginge. Now, that were point of little visit, cause my Bill’s had an idea, and it might just make life that little bit better indeed. He wants to emigrate”

“You what, Mavis? Leave England?”

Another laugh. “Aye, and here’s me who’s never been further than Robin Hood’s Bay! Emigrate, that’s what he’s thinking, off to Australia. Land of opportunity, and it’s what they call assisted passage. We get a new life, and Wilfie, well, nobody knows us out there. Nobody knows him, and nobody knew Minnie. What do you think, Ginge? Is my Bill right?”

“Mavis, I can’t come between man and wife, can I?”

Another gentle smile. “You won’t be doing that, love. I’ve already agreed. I said that in church, and it’s what I hold to. Where he goes, I go, boys go. Just, do you think it will be good for boys?”

I thought it through, and I realised Bill was absolutely right. Everything that had happened over the last thirty years had flattened the soul of the country, frayed its hope and optimism to tatters. Even the end of the war and all the changes Labour had brought in still felt like new paint over rusty ironwork.

“Mavis…”

“Aye?”

“Bill’s right. There’s a new life out there, away from bomb sites and dole queues. This is a real chance, aye? Time to grab it with both hands. Look at Wilfie there: think of how much room he’ll have to run in”

She reached across the rug to squeeze my hand. “Thanks, love. I just wanted someone I trusted to tell us we’re not being daft, not throwing everything away for a will o’ the wisp. We’re having a dance before we go, big party at local pub for us friends to say so long, bon voyage, all that French stuff. You’ll get invitation. Now, where this girl of yours work?”

“Tricia? She’s in baker’s in Bishop---no, Mavis!”

“Look after boys for a few minutes!”

She stood up, and walked quickly away. I looked round to grab the lads and run after her, but Wilfie was part way up a tree while David sat toddler-style at the bottom watching him. It was an easy climb, but the bigger boy was already above my reach, and Mavis was making ground too quickly. I couldn’t leave the boys, so I stood beneath the tree in case the climber fell and worried myself stupid over what Mavis was about to do.

She was back in fifteen minutes, grinning in an evil way.

“Gerald Barker, you have a job to do!”

“What have you done, Mavis? Am I going to be able to show my face in there again?”

This time, she held her laughter in, but it left her snorting.

“Ginge, you didn’t tell me she worked with her own Mam!”

“Oh dear”

“So I walks in, and she’s a pretty little thing, your Tricia, a bit heavy in the backside, like, but I hear you like them cuddly”

She was absolutely merciless. “So, anyways, I walks in, and I says, hello, is there a Patricia here? And she says, yes, who wants her, and I says I have a very shy friend, but I’ve got this dance coming up, and I think he should have company, and there’s this other woman, older like, and she says this lad, is he the one mooning around the shop every morning, buys a bun or an Eccles cake, and I says what’s he look like, and she says great long streak of ginger, and that’s when your Tricia goes all pink, and woman says aye, and I’m her Mam and he’s not the only one been mithering around like a mooncalf—“

Amazingly, she paused for breath, and gave me a serious look. “Gerald, I think she does like you, and she’s nearly as shy as you are. Get yourself down shop after work, or better do it now. You’ll need a partner for dancing”

“When is this do, Mavis?”

“Er… next month. We’re off in forty one days. Come on. Sup up tea, and down shop”

A quarter of an hour later, I was outside the bakery, where a pretty dark-haired girl was just finishing with a customer. Her eyes followed the lady out, and met mine. She blushed, but smiled, and I walked into the shop.

Her mother was racking loaves, and looked round at the sound of the bell.

“About bloody time, lad!”

CHAPTER 19
I gave my hair a last quick comb, and buffed up the toe caps of my shoes on the backs of my trousers. Why had I bought flowers? They weren’t good ones, but they weren’t roses. Mam had said that flowers all said things, all had different messages and places and times they were each right for, and roses were making a very clear statement best not said right at the start. It wasn’t really the start, of course, for we had been dancing the blushing two-step for months. Mithering, her mam had called it. Sod it, couldn’t I just be back outside that bloody airfield again?

I thought of all the men I had watched die that day, and realised how stupid and childish that thought was, and knocked.

He was at the door first, her dad, in a vest, his hands damp, and he looked me up and down as if trying to see under my skin.

“You’ll be that Gerald Barker, then. Edna told me all about you”

Suddenly he grinned, and he was a different man. “Come in, son, and be right welcome. You didn’t have to buy me flowers, though. Cup of tea?”

“Um, they were for Patricia, Mr Hardy”

“I know, son, and it’s Cyril, aye? Come into front room, Edna’s got china out. Pardon the vest, I were just cleaning up. PATRICIA! LAD’S HERE!”

That last was shouted up the stairs and answered by a clatter of heels on wood that became more muted as they hit the stair runner. A very, very short while later a flushed young woman entered the parlour, as Mrs Hardy was calling it, and pulled up short. I could feel myself blushing.

“These are for you, Tricia”

“They’re lovely, Gerald. Thank you… Mam?”

“Aye, lass. Use the shepherdess vase, aye?”

Flowers in water, tea before us, I sat at the best table with Cyril, Edna and a stammering but smiling and very pretty girl. ‘Big in the backside’? Absolutely not, not to my eyes, and I had looked every chance I had been given. I realised Cyril had been speaking.

“Gerald? You were miles away. I were asking where you were in war, like”

Hell. That was one word for it, Cyril. “I were with tanks, Cyril. On reconnaissance. Went in couple of days after the invasion, finished up in Denmark, near as could be. Wasn’t all bad”

A giggling Belgian girl, legs in the air and skirt up: no, not the thing to mention just then.

He was nodding. “I knew your Dad, back then. I mean, in last do. Son… I understand, that’s all. Now, how are you getting to pub?”

“I were going to take bus over, and then, well, I got some money together to pay for a taxi for Tricia to get her back”

“No”

That was a flat statement from her mam. I looked at Edna, slightly puzzled, and she nodded to her husband.

“Cyril will be there at ten with van. If you are not staying with your friends, you can ride back here in back of van. We are not letting our daughter stay up too late, and she is not riding back in a taxi with or without a man. That is the way reputations are ruined, and we have brought up a decent girl. That right, our Tricia?”

“Yes, Mam”

“So no arguments, lad. Cyril will be there at ten. Now, off with you, and no hanky-panky!”

Cyril showed us both to the door, and as we left shook my hand, then winked. “I’ll be there at ten, lad, but happen I might want a couple of pints when I get there, so you just look after my little girl and make sure she has a good evening. One lesson I were taught in eighteen were to take things when they were given. I don’t mean take liberties with my Tricia, just don’t waste time when you don’t have to. Nice to meet you, son”

The door closed, and I stepped out to the path where Tricia was waiting, looking lovely in a blanket coat and navy and white polka dot dress. She linked arms, and we were off down the street, me, Gerald Barker, Ginge, with a pretty girl on my arm and the world at my feet. Could life be any better?

We rode the bus in the traditional way, in the front seat at the top. Years later there would be a song from a Geordie band, where they sang “Me and you, sitting on a bus, in the front seat at the top; nobody paying us any attention and riding way past our stop”, and that song brought it all back, every time I heard it. We got off at our stop, though, which was by the newly extended war memorial, fifty yards from the King’s Head, and by that time we had gone from arm-in-arm to hand-in-hand. At the pub door, Tricia looked down, blushed again, and transferred her hand to the crook of my elbow. We entered, and I nearly fell over as Bob turned from the bar with a grin and a fresh pint.

“Ginge! How are you keeping, mate!”

“Bob! I’ll be, I mean, well, ladies present, aye? When did you get home?”

“Got my ticket back, Ginge. I’m off to Catterick. I’m going to be training people rather than…”

He paused for a second, before adding in a much quieter tone, “Rather than seeing them die, like”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “It is great to see you, Sergeant Wainwright!”

He grinned. “Mister Wainwright, Ginge: happen I got my WO2 out there”

“Congratulations! Sorry, I should have made introductions. Bob, this is Tricia Hardy, lass I asked along to dance tonight”

She interrupted. “Lass he’s been mooning over for months, more like, but who’s very happy he finally got round to it!”

“Er, aye. Tricia, this is Bob Wainwright, he were our crew commander in recent unpleasantness, as they call it”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr Wainwright”

“Bob, please”

“Bob. Now, Gerald, I would like to say hello to people whose do this is, and then I’ll be off to powder my nose while you two catch up on rest of news”

“Aye. Er, this is Bill and Mavis Hamilton, Mavis you’ve met, the ones off to Australia, and Bill, Mavis, this is Tricia Hardy, my guest for evening, and you could have told me Bob were coming”

Bill spread his arms. “We didn’t know till yesterday, Ginge. But I’m right made up he’s here; this is all my family together, all of us here tonight, except, well, let’s just remember smiles, aye? I’ve got money behind bar. Pint? Tricia?”

“Could I have a gin and it, please? Mavis, where’s powder room?”

“Over in corner, love”

Tricia walked off, and Mavis turned to me with a smile. “If she can see you need some time for lad’s things, and let you have it, she’s one to keep, Gerald. I’ll just go and make sure she’s all right”

Bob visibly sagged once it was just the three of us, and Bill put a hand to his shoulder.

“Bad?”

“Absolutely, mate. Absolutely. Like something out of Sudan, what they call human waves, aye? Just bloody sight colder. It’s a mess, but new kit’s bloody miles better that Stan was. You know what it reminds me of? Caen, that’s what. Local people are still there, and their eyes, their faces, I could be back in bloody Normandy. You’d think the last lot would have taught folk a lesson, but no, it’s still the same game, just with bigger bangs and different colour skin. I’m right sick of it, lads. I think boss saw, like, so I’m packed off here to train in what they call ‘infantry cooperation’ at Garrison. He said I were getting bomb happy, ready for chop”

Bill handed me a pint. “Not fucking surprising, pal. Right through fucking Africa, Italy, France, Belgium, that fucking place in Germany, and Harry and Wilf, aye? What do they expect?”

He looked at the two of us, face tight. “Ginge, Bob, tell me. Do you dream much? Ah. No need to answer, I can see it in your faces. It’s something I’m hoping for in new country, aye? Might be able to dream without seeing... seeing and hearing and bloody smelling things all the time. I’ve got two boys there, want to see them grow up away from rubbish like we’ve all had. Not too much to ask, is it?”

Mavis was back, and she put an arm around his waist. “No, love. Not too much to ask at all”

She looked at me and Bob. “When you’re wed to somebody, when you… when you share a bed with a man, you know when he dreams and you know when it’s bad. I’d like some quiet nights as well. Now, we want to give a little sort of speech thing, thank everyone for coming, and we’d like you to stand with us while we do, you and rest of family”

And so we did, me and Bob and Ernie, while Bill and Mavis said their thanks and their goodbyes,

It seemed I wasn’t alone in my dreams, but I tried to put that thought away in dancing and Tricia’s smiles. Cyril turned up spot on ten, and winked at me as he made his way to the bar.

“I fancy a couple of pints, son. Happen it’s nice night outside; Tricia might want some fresh air. Here: take my hanky”

“Hanky?”

“Wipe your face with after”

She rode in the front on the way back, while I sat on the floor in the back, but I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind at all.

CHAPTER 20
That night was the start of so much more than a ride in the back of a bread van. Once Tricia and I had broken the ice, it seemed as if her personality had expanded. The films we went to see in the cinema were in colour, more often than not, and so was she. Courting back then was different from what it would become only fifteen to twenty years later, and also from what it had been during the war. It wasn’t the formal dance it had been for Mam and Dad, but it wasn’t a headlong dive into intimacy.

We shared things, that was the simple truth. We were walking out together, officially now, and that meant that I could call at the shop for a sausage roll or a Chelsea bun for my snap, and I would get a hug to take away with it. We saw films and we sat in the milk bar near The Shambles, where we argued about which new record we wanted to play. Argued light-heartedly, with hands held under the table, and in the end I usually let Tricia win. I was finally being allowed to do the things that I would have done years before, if it hadn’t been for that nasty little Austrian and his friends.

The door was closed, for once, which was probably deliberate, and so I knocked once before opening it and walking in.

“Mam, Dad, just us!”

They were waiting in the front room, and Tricia did something just then that made me realise how much we were in tune. I made the introductions, Mam sitting primly in one of her best dresses, Dad in Jacket and tie, and my girl simply smiled and held up her gloved hands.

“Mr and Mrs Barker, it would be really nice if we could just be at home. Gerald sees me in shop, all hot from oven, so he knows I don’t hold with fancy stuff. Could I be really cheeky and just have a cup of tea in a proper kitchen? These gloves just look daft!”

Mam laughed out loud. “Happen you’ve got yourself a woman there, son, not a silly girl. Tricia, I’m Lily, and this is Sid. Come into kitchen by all means, and be welcome. These shoes is pinching, for a start. Gerald, get kettle on. Sid, get that tie off, you know you hate it”

Just like that, the formality was kicked straight out the door and Tricia was accepted and welcomed. Dad sighed with relief as he took off his jacket and pulled the tie from round his neck.

“I know your Dad, Tricia. We served together, back in eighteen. I can see him in you”

She put on a look of shock, hand to mouth.

“You think I look like a man?”

Dad just grinned. “No, lass. I don’t think our Gerald here thinks you do, either. What a blush, son! No, lass, Your Dad’s sense of humour. He were always one of the lads to pick us up when things weren’t so good, always had a song or a joke. You’ll have had someone like that with you, son?”

Yes, Dad, but a PAK round tore him to shreds and rubbish and left little pieces of him in the soles of my boots.

“Aye, Dad, we did. I…”

I gathered my strength, thinking of little Wilf. “One day, Dad, I’d like to go out and see him. He’s in Belgium”

“Ah. Sorry, son. Funny you should say that, but Legion were talking about trying to get some sort of trip organised. Bert were on about it in pub. Get train down to Dover and then have some charabancs at other end”

“Aye, dad, but where would they go? I mean, we were all over shop compared to your lot. And Bob, he were in Africa and Italy as well. Be a nice idea, but if I go I might just do it by me self. I mean, I might grab other lads, except Bill, of course. You know: Bob and Ernie”

I could see what he was hoping for, a trip together, Dad and Lad, but the hells we had walked eye-deep in were in different parts of the world. I had read that line in a poem Mavis had found and included in a letter to me, the first from Australia our house had ever received. She wrote about how the boys were getting on, how bad the flies were, how Bill was kicking less at night, and then added the poem, saying that while she had obviously never been there it seemed to her that he was hitting the nail on the head. Some Yank called Pound had written it, and he went on to dismiss the modern world as “a bitch gone rotten in the teeth”

I looked at the woman sat next to me, clearly wondering where the conversation was going, or perhaps if I was including her in my travel plans, and I realised that while Pound had been spot on about hell he was wide of the mark regarding the modern world. It was odd, but I felt hopeful and scared in equal measure. Hopeful that with Tricia I could match Bill’s quieter sleep, and terrified that I would do something to ruin it all. I mean, what did I know about courting?

She noticed, and squeezed my hand, which made Mam smile and Dad cough as my heart sang. It wasn’t just me courting, it was both of us, and with her beside me it all seemed so simple and obvious. Mavis had added some advice in her letter.

‘Gerald, Tricia seems such a nice lass and you seem so suited I am really sorry we will be so far away if all goes as well as I think it will. We’re all being given a chance to make a new world now, not the rubbish in that poem. I think Bill and me have made the right one for us and the boys so it’s down to you to do same for yourself. She’s a lovely lass, and that means two things. Either you end up wed, or you don’t, but if you don’t you will know that you are the sort of good man that a nice girl will smile at and for. Take it steady, treat her like a gentleman should, and you will do well, and I know that you are both a gentleman and a gentle man. Love from all of us’

I missed them all terribly, but her assumptions still made me blush. I had heard all of the stuff about true love, of course, but so many of the lads who truly loved their wives at home had been more than willing to love the girls in France and Belgium, or at least have sex with them. Even in Germany, despite all the lectures about fraternisation and Mr Nolan’s merciless tone, the boys had gone out and done the same. There were even lads who’d stayed out there on Occupation and married Jerry girls. And here I was with that word in my head: marriage.

Once again, I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. I fancied her, I enjoyed her company, my stomach bounced each time I saw her and my body reacted when we cuddled, but was that ‘love’? I resolved to stick with Mavis’ advice and take it steady.

Steady it was. I had Christmas dinner with her and her parents, and we saw the New Year in with Mam and Dad, and all the time my horizons were widening. Once again, Mavis was right, and as the days lengthened again my nights became calmer. I went to sleep having seen her, and woke knowing I would again that day. Not only that, but her Mam started putting up sandwiches and the like for my workday meals. We made the rounds every so often, as a couple, seeing Ernie or Bob, or just as often some friend of Tricia’s to even the score, and I put that all into some long letters to Mavis, who had always seemed so clear-sighted.

We walked hand in hand or arm in arm everywhere now, My Tricia and I, and six months after that hearty shove from Mavis, I spoke to Cyril

“Can I have a word, Mr Hardy?”

“Very formal all of a sudden, our Gerald”

I felt myself blush, and he laughed happily, clapping me on the shoulder. “Aye, son! Aye! Have you asked the lass herself yet? No? Well, now I know what your intentions are towards my daughter, I suggest you get on with it and let her know what they are! Then we are off down pub!”

I looked him hard in the eye. “And what if she says no?”

A roar of laughter. “You must be bloody blind, lad! EDNA!”

His wife’s voice came faintly from the kitchen. “Aye?”

“Come on out here for a bit!”

He lowered his voice. “You got a ring, lad?”

“Er, aye, but it’s not much”

“It’s what it says, lad, not what it is. Go in and make us all happy”

She was sitting at the kitchen table, peeling sprouts, the faded and limp outer leaves piling up on old newspaper as she cut the cross into the base of each little green ball.

“Can you put knife down, love? I’m nervous already”

“Why are you nerv---you’ll get your knees all---OH! YES! YES I WILL!”

The ring sort of fitted, but we could sort that out, and then we had a quick kiss because her parents were coming back into the room and decorum was essential. Cyril just grinned and pulled his jacket on.

“I’m off to ask a favour of Bert, son. See if he’ll get his car out for you”

“What for?”

“Go and pick your Mam and Dad up, that’s what for. You HAVE told them, haven’t you?”

“Er. No. I didn’t, just in case, you know, Tricia didn’t…”

Yet another roar. “Bloody today’s youth! No sense whatsoever!”

Edna snapped “Language!” by reflex, and then just laughed. “Your Mam and Dad be at home, Gerald?”

“Aye, not Dad’s pub night”

“Then you go with him. Tell them yourself, aye?”

Bert drove steadily but efficiently, chuckling every so often and waving away my offer to pay for the petrol.

“Happen you did us proud in France and that, son, and Cyril’s right made up. Take it as a gift. Down here?”

“Aye, third door along, that one with the blue paint”

We pulled up, and I went in. “Mam, this is Bert Entwhistle, a friend of Mr Hardy’s”

Dad called across the room. “I know Bert, son, from Legion. She said yes then, son?”

How the hell did he know? Mam chuckled. “I found box with ring when I were making your bed, son. It is yes, then? Oh, come here!”

Dad was reaching for his cap. “Happen Mr Entwhistle is here to give us all a lift? That right, my friend?”

“Aye, Sid. Cyril’s off down pub”

“Then we shall join him and our future daughter in law. Gerald, son, you make me a proud man”

Tricia had already made me a happy one, and that mood stayed with me throughout the celebrations, right up until Ernie turned up at the boatyard three days later.

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!”

CHAPTER 22
“Come in, do! George, is there a problem?”

“Sort of, sir. Chap here, Gerald, he’s come all the way down to ask a favour of you”

“Beattie, may we please have some tea. Gentlemen, tea?”

He led the way into what I would have called a sitting room, but it was far bigger than ours. The house was old, oak beams darkened with the years, and a coal fire crackled in the grate.

Mr Nolan sighed. “I can’t seem to stay warm these days, my friends. Oh, and can I please ask, Barker, that we leave other forms of address behind. I can ask no more, considering what we have shared. I am Rodney. Please forgive the state of the old place, do”

There were newspapers spread on a small table, and a cupboard holding a large number of bottles and decanters. Two decanters and a bottle, of some gin or other, stood on the table by the newspapers. I wondered how much he was drinking, and at the same time I answered the other question in my mind, because the reasons were obvious; I knew them all too well myself.

Beattie bustled in with a tray of cups and pot. “Would you gentlemen care for some biscuits?”

Mr Nolan smiled, which seemed to be a strange thing for his face to do. “Thank you, Beattie, I do believe we will”

As she departed, he turned the smile back to me. “Gerald, I believe, if you will, and I am Rodney. George, will you elucidate me?”

“Certainly sir”

“Rodney”

“Not when I’m on duty, sir”

Mr Nolan, Rodney, laughed out loud in a sharp bark. “Oh dear, that brings a memory or two back, eh, Gerald? What was it your sergeant always said? It was always Bob when you were closed up, but Sergeant for propriety and witnesses? Barker? Gerald? What is it?”

“It is actually about Mr Wainwright, er, Rodney”

He was pale now. “I made sure he was sent home. I didn’t want… was it an accident”

George coughed. “No, sir, he’s still alive, as far as Gerald here knows. He has just, well, Gerald. He has to know, yes? Otherwise you’re just wasting your time”

I held my cup in both hands for a while, looking round the room. The locked gun cabinet, the thumb stick against one wall, photographs, an empty whisky tumbler.

“Bob’s been arrested. He’s on a charge, Rodney, and he’s guilty, we think”

“Was it a private soldier, Gerald?”

I looked up in shock. Had I been the only blind man in our unit? “How did you guess, sir? I mean, I don’t know who Monkeys caught with him, but, well, how did you know?”

Rodney stared out of the window, a tic working at the right corner of his mouth. “Most of us knew, Gerald, but he was a fine soldier, a true leader of men. I dare say we---I mean my brother officers, we all went to similar schools, sometimes even the same ones, yes? We knew who the buggers were, the bumboys and arsebandits, but Bob was different. I really do believe…”

He shook his head violently, and went over to one of the decanters. Some bitters, and a lot of gin went into the tumbler, and half of the resulting pinkness went down his throat in one angry gulp. He grimaced, and turned back to us.

“Sodomy is a crime and an abomination in the eyes of the law as well as against His Holy Word. That is what I saw in school. It was all about sexual gratification of the vilest kind, but what struck me was the way the worst and most predatory of queers seemed to stop as soon as they left. It was all about their gratification, and they took it where they could. That is how it seemed to me, at least. Wainwright… Bob was different. Gerald, did you not have eyes to see?”

Oh dear God, but I had to ask the question. “See what, exactly?”

The rest of the drink vanished. “No. You clearly didn’t. Now, when did you arrive?”

“Last night. Train to Canterbury, found a bed and breakfast place near station”

“How long were you intending to stay in the area?”

“Don’t know. All I wanted to do was find you, and that’s done”

“BEATTIE, if you please!”

The woman appeared at the door once again. “Yes, Major?”

“Would you be so kind as to make up the guest room for Mr Barker here? He has come a long way, and I will not see a comrade and, yes, a friend, staying in a squalid bedsit. Which one was it, George?”

“Irene Higgins’ place, Major. Bit less than generous with the fry-up, by all accounts”

“Then I must beg an indulgence, George. Well, two”

“As you wish, sir”

“Would you be so kind as to collect young Gerald’s affairs from the Higgins establishment as well as any, ahem, unearned deposit he may have left there? And what are your duties tomorrow?”

“I am having a day of rest, Major”

“Then I would be delighted if you would return here this evening with your good lady for dinner. And, well, we shall most probably get squiffy, so I shall ask Beattie to prepare another room. We have an abundance of such things here, and they so rarely see any use. Where was I? Oh, yes”

He turned back to me, the gin working on his tongue a little. “I am sorry, Gerald, but I did not seek your permission. Will you stay here? The company would be appreciated, and we do need to discuss strategy if we are to render assistance to our dear friend Bob. Will you stay?”

“Thank you, sir. Rodney. I will that. Could I please beg another favour? Do you have a telephone I could use to let my lass know what’s happening?”

“You are married, then? Congratulations!”

“Not yet, Rodney. We got engaged a little while back. She’s grand!”

The smile was wistful, and his eyes went to the mantelpiece, one of the photos. “I am sure she is delightful, Gerald. You are a fine man, and you will make her a very happy woman. Now, what of the rest of your happy band?”

I reminded myself that he knew all about Harry and Wilf, and those two were subjects best left well alone.

“Well, I was at Ernie’s wedding, that were grand, Ada’s right lovely, and then Bill, Bill that replaced Wilf, he’s off with Mavis and the boys to Australia”

“Boys? I knew he had one”

All at once, everything rose up and I shamed myself by bursting into tears. Slowly, slowly the other two men drew out the story of that evening’s horrors, the baby abandoned, the driver devastated. George had a hanky, and Rodney another glass and a tot of whisky. At eleven in the morning? I needed to pull things back together.

“Aye, little Wilf got adopted. Mavis were right adamant, there were no way the tyke were going into orphanage. He were family, she said, just like whole of crew, and Bill said same, said it were true even though he never met Wilf, like”

George was nodding. “Isn’t that God’s honest truth? What I said in the station, Gerald, I stick by that. You can’t explain it to some people, they haven’t been there, haven’t felt it”

He looked across at the decanter, grinned, then shook his head. “Major, I will also borrow your telephone, if I may. I think the lady wife will need and indeed demand warning to accept your invitation. If I may?”

“Certainly. It’s in the hall by the stairs”

George went to make his phone call, and Rodney gave another wistful smile. “May I guess that your purpose in coming here was to enlist my aid in delivering Bob from his difficulties?”

“No, Rodney. Seems there’s no way we could do that. Too much evidence against. Character witness, that were it. Bob’s a good man, bloody hero. Let them chew on that and see if we can’t get punishment down to least possible. We were all going to go, except Bill, of course, what with being in Australia, like”

“Then we are agreed. Ah, here’s George. Pray go and make your phone call and ask Beattie to join me if you pass her”

I rang the shop, after some difficulty in getting the operator to understand me, and Cyril answered.

“What news, son?”

“Found him, Dad”

God alone knew where that came from, but suddenly it was the right word. I had two Dads now, and one of them was hers. He chuckled. “Get wedding over first, son, but happen I like sound of that”

“Well, there were a young copper at police station, looked about twelve, and he’s calling me ‘son’, like!”

“Happen it’s part of their training. Anyway, you found your officer?”

“Aye. I’m stopping over with him, having dinner tonight with copper that knows him. Drove me out here. Nice man. You can tell my Mam that I’m settled nicely and being looked after. Going to have dinner tonight with Mr Nolan and sort out plan of campaign for Bob. And could you tell Tricia…”

I simply couldn’t say those words to another man, and certainly not my intended’s father. He just laughed happily.

“Aye, son, I’ll tell her you send your very best, but perhaps you could do that yourself? Lass is standing by me”

“Gerald?”

“Hello, love”

“You safe?”

“Staying at Mr Nolan’s. Couldn’t be safer”

“What was it you wanted Dad to tell me?”

“That I love you more than life, and I’ll be home soon”

There was a sob then, and Cyril came back on.

“How the blazes does a man ever understand women? She’s sobbing her heart out and grinning like it’s Christmas! Now, you do your best down there, lad. We’ve got faith in you. Talk soon, aye?”

“Aye. Thank you”

George was leaving as I came in, and I told him my room number as he passed. I joined Rodney by another small table under the picture window that gave onto the rolling farmland, a wood in the distance.

“Everything is sorted, Gerald?”

“Absolutely. Confused Tricia’s Dad, though. I said… well, I said what a lad says to a lass, and off she goes sobbing heart out at same time as what he says is grinning like it’s Christmas”

“You told her you loved her, then”

No question, just a flat statement. I felt my face heating.

“Aye, I did”

“It’s a big concept for a small word, Gerald. That is the thing. Officers can love their men, the men can love each other, but it is agape, philanthropy, not eros”

“Beg pardon?”

“Brotherly love, love of humanity, not sexual desire. Agape is the word in the Greek versions of Holy Scripture. When the Saviour said to love one’s neighbour, love one another, it was agape. And the word ‘charity’ is the same in origin, to care for other children of God. That was what I was smiling about earlier, at your blindness”

He rose, and went to pour another gin. “The odd thing about our school buggers, as I have said, was that they were all entirely and utterly consumed by the need for sexual gratification. Where there are no females, such need must be sated in other ways, Bob was not like that”

Another large draught.

“Bob loved his fellow man, but he loved men. He was in love with one man, I believe, exactly as if they were not both men but man and woman. He was in love with YOU, dear boy”

CHAPTER 23
That stunned me, but it also confirmed the realisation that I had slowly been coming to: I just didn’t see things, didn’t spot what was obvious to others. Rodney had said it, asking if I didn’t have eyes to see, and there it was, so bloody simple.

I remembered those times Bob had held me, keeping the nightmares away, and asked myself if he had been looking for an opportunity to do whatever it was men like him did, and part of me recoiled while another slapped me, hard. This was Bob. He may have been like that, but he wasn’t like THAT. His hands on my haul strap, throwing me out of the hatch before our old home brewed up, the slap and direct orders when my mind went away under fire, that was the real Bob.

“Rodney, you don’t think, do you, that he was just, you know, looking for opportunity?”

Sad, watery eyes held mine. “You would think that of him, Gerald? Really?”

I felt my jaw muscles tighten. “No, not at all. Just, I am beginning to realise how bloody thick I am”

He reached across to squeeze my shoulder. “You are far from stupid, dear boy, but you are profoundly innocent, and possessed of a remarkable generosity of spirit, rare among soldiers”

“That wasn’t something I chose, was it? Not like Bob, and yourself, begging your pardon”

“Oh, absolutely so. My father was always determined that I would take a commission, but rather less than delighted when I decided to follow the automotive trade rather than become, what was it? A donkey-walloper?”

His eyes went back to the mantelpiece and the photos it carried. “He went three years ago, my boy. Mama…”

He paused again. “Do you desire children, you and your young lady, Gerald?”

“Tricia. Aye, I suppose we do that. Always seemed proper way, leave something of ourselves behind, like”

“Yes… This place has been ours, the family’s, for a very long time. Father stayed here, as the eldest, and brought Mama home when they were married. I was their sole progeny, and thus, well, Mama and my Eva…”

Once more, he looked over at the mantelpiece, and I hesitantly asked “Was it the Blitz, Rodney?” and he sighed, shaking his head.

“No, Gerald, it was broad daylight, and I rather suspect for sport. Eva was very modern, and was driving Mama home from Dover, where they gave of their time in the hospital. Jerry had been firing some of those very large rounds across from France, so they had worked all day, and they were just passing near one of the mining villages here---there is coal-mining to the East of this house, and driving through the villages avoided having to use the main road, and this was a day when a flight of Messerschmitts decided to raid the area. They did that ever so often, you see, just pop in at low level, see what they could destroy, and then trot off home. What they got that day was the shooting brake, Mama and my wife. I’ve maintained a certain distaste for Germans ever since. That… establishment we helped to cleanse, that was merely confirmation”

“It killed Harry, that place”

“Yes. That was an awful time, for all of us. Oh, yes: remember that chap you saw captured up towards Denmark?”

“The one they had naked? Aye. Hanged by Poles, weren’t he?”

“Indeed. They used a short-drop gallows just for him”

“Short drop?”

“Our hangmen have tables, dear boy, to calculate weight, drop, length of rope, to snap the neck SNICK, just like that. The poles didn’t bother with that, they just hung him up to die. That, dear boy, is rather how I feel about Jerry. Rather difficult to let bygones be, yes?”

I realised George had been gone for some time only when he returned, such was the depth of the memories Rodney was bringing back. I was shaken out of it by the sound of the telephone ringing. Beattie came to the door.

“Beg pardon, Major, but it’s some gentleman called Ernest Roberts”

“Thank you, my dear. I shall be with you immediately. Gerald?”

He took the handset and managed to find a cheerful mood from somewhere. “Ernest! Dear boy, how delightful to hear your voice! If it were only under less unpleasant circumstances. Now, may I assume your call concerns dear Robert? Yes?”

“Ah, I see. Gerald is with me, beside me as we speak. They have sent him to Colchester, Gerald, to the military prison there to await trial. Yes? In one week, dear boy. Ernest? I am sorry, I was bringing Gerald up to date with the situation. Now, will you be able to join us? NONSENSE! I have the necessary funds, and more”

I couldn’t hear Ernie’s voice, but the buzz from the telephone sounded more heated, and then the old officer just said, loudly and firmly, “Private Roberts!”

A few seconds of silence. “My apologies, Ernest, Ernie, but there is no place here for pride. We have a comrade, a brother, who desperately needs our aid, and as I am the one who is in possession of the necessary funds, it falls to me to pay the lion’s share. I know an inn there, and I shall send you a railway ticket by post. Gerald and I will drive up there tomorrow or, well, not tomorrow. It will be the day after. We will see what condition our friend is in, and I will establish who has been appointed as his counsel and then instruct them in clear terms to fuck off. I have decided that his defence will be in the hands of a friend, a comrade, a brother. We will give of our best, and you will not argue from a stiff-necked and inappropriate sense of pride, do you hear?”

That was far more the Mr Nolan I remembered, and I felt my own pride lifting. If this man felt that he was in his own words my comrade, friend and brother, then I was worth something even more than Tricia saw. He finished his call with true warmth of feeling, and then called to his maid once more.

“Beattie! I will need my Number 2 ready for travel. Please ask Docherty to make sure my shoes and belt are adequately appropriate for the occasion, and Gillie to ensure the Morgan is running properly”

“Yes, Major. Cook asks if lamb will be acceptable for this evening”

“Certainly. May we have three bottles of the ’36 Chateauneuf ready for the dinner?”

“Yes, Major”

He turned back to me. “I have a small staff here, just four in total. I have some slight difficulties with, well, the missing wing, and employment is not always easy to find in this area. Apart from mining, of course, and agriculture. Our family has always been somewhere for people to come to in need. Alas… I have no heir, and so only the good Lord knows what will happen when I depart this world”

“Not now, Rodney. Not time for talk like that. We have a ---friend, comrade, brother, weren’t it? See him as safe as we can, and then worry about rest of life”

He grinned suddenly, and years and cares fell from his face. “Our friend chose well, I see, and saw the grace you hold in your heart, dear boy. I can never accept his nature, but I could never find fault with his taste. Now, I am sure you will want to freshen yourself, and unpack your things as necessary, for that is George without, if my hearing does not deceive me. Yes, here he is”

The policeman had my bag, a ten shilling note, and a grin. “Had to work hard for that one, Major! She don’t change, our Irene! Hilda says she would be delighted to come over this evening, and says that she is not going to be told no, and she is not belittling your cook, but she will be bringing bread and butter pudding, and can you ask cook to have some custard ready for it?”

The life was steadily returning to Rodney’s face, and laughter came with it. “Dear boy, I can think of few desserts that would be finer than Hilda’s bread and butter. Tell her it will be lamb tonight, so we would ask that she brings some of her excellent mint sauce as well”

I sat in my room ten minutes later, laying out my clothes and wondering what I could wear for Bob. Another ten minutes, and I was on the phone again to Cyril, and my uniform was being packed ready for Ernie to bring down. I might not have a Docherty to bull my boots, but I had two Dads and Ernie.

Dinner was wonderful, the lamb tender, the pudding delicious, and George’s wife Hilda cheeky and funny at the same time. It was about two thirty in the morning when the anti-tank round hit the turret.

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”

CHAPTER 25
Ernie wasn’t too full of gossip that night, and we spent it going over old, old tales of our times in Normandy and further on. The toast, in essence, was ‘absent friends’, and several times we found ourselves sitting silent, as if by mutual agreement.

The room was nice, and the toilet and bathroom out on the landing were clean. The breakfast was almost as good as Beattie’s. I took a little while to let it settle before squeezing into my Number Twos. Rodney had been quite specific: we would visit our comrade as exactly that, as fellow soldiers unashamed to be seen with him. Let the world think what it wanted to, we would show that we cared and held fast to honour and friendship, for I was beginning to feel that Bob had nothing else left to him. I mean, I would never be able to understand how a man could ever feel that way about another man, and if I let myself linger on the idea too long I felt a little sick, to tell the truth.

I made myself put those thoughts away. This was Bob, first and above anything else. Tricia’s words came to me just then, and yes, Bob was worth any trouble I could put myself to.

Matthew surprised us by arriving in a Daimler saloon car “On loan from my chum”, and I noticed a few more strips of colour on his breast than I bore on my own. Boots bulled, Brasso freshly put to my buttons, buckles and cap and shoulder badges, and who was there to tell any of us that we were no longer members of their club? Matthew kept up a steady flow of nonsense chatter as he drove us in the borrowed car to the gates of the glasshouse, but I was scarcely aware of the noise as I felt anger coming to a cold boil inside me.

After all, who the bloody hell were these people, these monkeys, to condemn one of ours? Had they been where we had been, walked our paths, buried their brothers? Rodney put a hand to my arm.

“I know, Gerald, but not today. We will be calm incarnate, we will not in any way poke any monkeys, for they will surely take their redress from our friend’s body”

He turned to our driver. “Matthew, old boy, did you by any chance succeed in your enquiries regarding the Board?”

“Absolutely, dear chap. Rather crusty, I’m afraid. Judge Advocate is a sensible chap, though; taught some of the law classes at Sandhurst while I was there, don’t you know. I will do my best to catch his eye. The Court is apparently being brought forward. Can’t have the wrong class of bumboy under the colours, what? I do believe Fyfe has got his fingers inserted deeply into this particular pie”

Ernie asked the obvious question, and Rodney shook his head in disbelief. “Is Yorkshire really that far away? The Home Secretary, Ernest, no less. Russian spies to a man, your sodomites, in his eyes, and Something Must Be Done. Our comrade is not the first, and he will certainly not be the last. I do not know what exactly the good Minister believes, whether it is in their susceptibility to blackmail or in some accompanying attraction to the Bolshevik philosophy”

He started to laugh out loud. “Matthew, imagine if that were true! All those chaps who went to Harrow, Eton or Cambridge, all playing for our old friend Uncle Joe or that new chap? Delusions, Matthew, fantasies of paranoia!”

“Absolutely, Rodney! Now, we are almost there. I will have a word with the gentle receptionists as I am, after all, still in service. Be good chaps and wait by the vehicle”

He dismounted—the old thoughts were back unbidden with my belt and boots---and strode briskly over to the soldier at the gate, who listened to him, shook his head and started to turn away. Matthew said something just then, and the scene was transformed as one soldier spun smartly on his heel and stamped to attention while Matthew spoke to him with his forehead almost touching the brim of the guard’s new-style helmet. Perhaps ‘spoke’ wasn’t quite an adequate word for the exchange. Matthew marched back to the car, smiling gently, and the barrier lifted smartly as we drove through the gates of the prison, our driver breaking into a grin once past the checkpoint.

“Ah, that does one a power of good, to find out one still has the old touch. Now, Admin is apparently over---ah, here we are. Five minutes, gentlemen”

He was back in ten, but he had an escort of a hard-faced MP and we were led briskly to a cell block once the Monkey had tried to outstare Ernie and myself and failed. What were you doing while we were killing bloody Tigers?

I could feel the despair in the walls, and it was worse than I had imagined. The Monkey went to make a comment about a single cell for people like, you know, and Ernie surprised me by replying for all of us.

“Why don’t you just shut your fucking hole?”

Rodney sighed. “Indeed. Be a good chap, do, and be silent. This man is a true hero, and you will respect him. What is your name?”

“225 Harman, sir!”

“Very good, Harman. And your own back will bear the equivalent of any unpleasantness you may wish to visit unnecessarily on our comrade after our departure. HAVE WE ESTABLISHED CLEAR CHANNELS OF COMMUNICATION IN THIS MATTER, CORPORAL?”

“YES SIR!”

“That will do, then. Open up”

There was a rattle and thump as the door flew open, and a grey figure leapt from the iron bed to rigid attention. No cap, so no salute, but a sharp eyes right to acknowledge two officers…

“Mr Nolan? Ernie? Gerald? Oh shit, oh God, I’m sorry”

Matthew gave the Monkey a look, and he stamped off down the corridor as Bob slumped from his rigid stance and, well, there was no other choice I could honestly make. I stepped forward and hugged him to me as tears poured from him and his fingers dug into the back of my tunic.

I held him till he calmed, and of course even a bumboy had his dignity, and he tried to apologise, which Matthew brought an end to.

“Not now, old chap. Who is your advocate?”

“Some captain from the Pay Corps, Flanagan’s the name”

“Don’t know him. When will he next see you?”

“At Court I think”

“And when did he last---oh, for God’s sake! And when is the Court?”

“Tomorrow at two”

“Rodney, be a good chap and call that odious little screw back. We need a council of war, and that accountant chap Flanagan, and I will not support such a thing sitting on a disgusting single bed in a cell”

“Absolutely, old chap. CORPORAL HARMAN!”

Half an hour later we were in what might have been an interview room, fifteen minutes after that tea was delivered and after another half hour a bespectacled Captain Flanagan was delivered to us. He was quite indignant at first.

“This is all most irregular!”

Matthew gave him a canary-eating smile. “My dear fellow, how irregular is it to conduct a defence fairly without actually conversing with the gentleman involved? We are here at your disposal in this matter, and it will no doubt be of great assistance in expediting dear Robert’s acquittal”

“But he is to plead guilty!”

I gave Bob a stare, and he shrugged. “Not really much else I can do, lads. Sorry. Sir…”

Rodney patted his arm. “Lads will do, Bob. We are here as comrades, as friends. So, then. The evidence?”

“We were found in, well, flagrante delicto, as they say. Um, in bed”

“And the other chap?”

“Heard he jumped off back of wagon. Got a postcard from somewhere in France, but I think, I hope he made it over to States”

Matthew was nodding. “Mitigation, Captain?”

“What mitigation could there be, sir? I mean, it’s an abomination as well as a crime”

Rodney was purring now, and I saw once more the steady, safe man who had held our unit together through so many horrors.

“Well, Captain, perhaps we can manage to put our heads together for just a little while. Robert, how is your sleep?”

Five of us exchanged something without words before the man from the Pay Corps sought to ease his confusion with the obvious question. Some of the old Bob came back to life just then.

“Happen you’ve not had someone try to kill you, then, Captain Flanagan?”

He looked hard at me and I gave him a little nod. He smiled sadly.

“I know what Major Nolan is hinting at, Captain, and I think everyone else in this room has the same in them. I remember Major Folland here, back when he were a bit younger, a bit more newly minted like, and he saw the same as the rest of us. I had to slap Gerald here a couple of times when it got too much, and he still saved my life from a bloody SS bastard. You know how he did that? He took out a gun and he looked him in the eyes and shot him in the neck, and that bastard lay in the snow and sprayed blood everywhere and still took a bloody eternity to die, and just after that me and Gerald and Ernie here picked the bits of another mate out of what were left of our vehicle, and we buried him by road, and we carried on and did that sort of thing day after day, month after bloody month, and they don’t go away, your dead, not unless you’re sick in the head. They come out every night, sometimes in the daytime, and you make a joke of it, but it never leaves you. One of our crew…

“Gerald, nightmares? Ernie? Major Nolan? Major Folland? See, Captain? That’s what he meant by asking how my sleep is!”

Flanagan sat straighter. “I apologise. My own Corps is hardly known for its proximity to the front line, I will agree. But I rather think we have moved from mere mitigation to a possible defence. Gentlemen, pray excuse me for a few minutes. I need to rearrange today’s calendar so that we may discuss this in greater detail. I will also require a statement from each of you for the Board”

He was off, and Matthew was roaring with laughter.

“My God, I do believe we’ve just made an officer of our accountant!”

Four hours later, we had the draft defence, based on ‘unsound mind’, committed to paper and ready for the following afternoon’s Court. My sleep was free of visitors that night.

CHAPTER 26
“LEFF RAH LEFF RAH LEFF RAH HALT! CAP—OFF!”

With a clash of stamping boots Bob was marched in, halted and then sat with his advocate, our little accountant Captain Flanagan. He in turn gave Bob a nod, as my own little crew sat awaiting our turn.

‘Crew’. That was a deeper thought, for it brought back memories of what that word had meant such a short time before, when the only thing that had stood between us and a very painful death had been our mates, our crew. That was how it felt right then, our little crew of four ready to fight for the fifth member. I had rung Cyril at the shop early that morning, for I knew exactly what time he was up and at his ovens, and brought him up to date with what was about to happen.

“Aye, Gerald. We’re right proud of you, son, your loyalty, aye? Honour, that’s what they call it in the stories. Not turning your back on a pal, that’s what we say, and that’s the mark of a proper man. Happen… look, what is he going to do if you manage to get him off charge? I mean, even with, like, well. They won’t be happy with him in Regiment, will they? He got anywhere to go?”

“What are you saying, Cyril?”

“Well, Gerald. Well… look. I know he’s a shirtlifter and all that, aye? So do folk up here. They know what you’re doing, and who for, and why, but there’s some as doesn’t understand that last bit, the why. Happen there’s some of us who do bloody understand, and I were having a word, like, with your Dad and a couple of others, lads who know what it’s about, like. He’s got place up here if he needs it, afterwards, like”

“For a, well, for someone like him? You’d do that?”

“For the man that brought our lad back safe, aye. Debts are there to be paid, son. Pay them we will, and in full”

I couldn’t help asking myself what I had ever done to deserve my friends, my family, but I had said the right things to Cyril, the manly things, before we set off for Bob’s day.

It went the way these things do, if my experience of them was anything to go by, limited as it was to films and stories from old hands. I missed so much of the prosecution’s side of things, sat as I was outside awaiting my turn, but when it came I marched in as sharply as I could Double stamp to attention, feel the boots hit the ground. Salute so hard my hand quivered. Cap off.

“Stand easy, Private Barker. Or would you prefer to be addressed as the civilian you now are?”

I was astonished at the phrase that came to my mind, because I had never used such a word. Fuck you, you bastard. Tread carefully, Gerald.

“I am proud of my service, sir. I also believe that I earned my right to wear this uniform, of which I am also proud”

The Judge Advocate smiled, just a little, at that. “Very well, Private Barker. Your service is not in question, and this court concedes your right to its rewards. You will shortly be placed on oath, but please remember that this is not a civilian court, so please forget any ideas you may have gained from theatrical or cinematic dramas. Mister Sullivan, if you please”

“Sir! Take the book in your right hand and repeat after me—“

In a prison whisper, as I finished the oath, the Staff Sergeant muttered “Well done, son”

A Brylcreem Boy major started the proceedings.

“Private Barker, how do you know the accused?”

“He were my tank commander in last lot, sir. I mean, the one before Korea. France and Germany. I didn’t do Korea”

Calm down, Barker. Keep it simple.

“Where did you meet?”

“Training, sir. Once we were through basic stuff at Bovington they formed us into crews, and WO Wainwright were skipper of ours. Stayed with him throughout”

“When did he first make an improper approach to you, Private Barker?”

That word was back. Fuck off.

“He never did”

“We have testimony from another trooper that he was seen with his arms around you, Private Barker. That you slept together”

Bastard. Your turn, now. “Would that have been after Goodwood, sir?”

“Goodwood?”

“Attack outside Caen. Lots of casualties. We were on recon, up high for observation. Watched a lot of mates burned alive that day. I had a bit of a break down. Happens sometimes when you see a bit too much”

I paused. “Bob made me a soldier again, made sure I didn’t get lost in it all. Brought me home, brought most of us home”

He curled his lip. “By cuddling you?”

“By making sure I knew I weren’t alone, that I had mates, comrades like”

I fixed his gaze, his sneer. “Happen I don’t believe you’ve ever been shot at. Sir”

The Judge Advocate coughed. “Private Barker…”

“Yes sir, but it’s different when you’ve not been there, aye? There’s times when you need the hand on the shoulder, the hug, and there’s nowt queer about it. It’s just being mates, comrades, aye? No, Bob never did anything wrong with me, never tried anything, never grabbed me privates, nowt. The major there can ask it however many times he likes, and it will be the same answer”

He looked over at Brylcreem Boy. “I believe you have had your answer fairly and honestly, Charles. Perhaps the advocate for WO Wainwright, unless you… no? Captain Flanagan”

Our accountant was up now. “Private Barker, thank you for your time and expense in attending this court. May I ask why you have made such an effort? After all, you do live in the North Riding of Yorkshire, not so?”

“Aye. Yes, sir. It’s for Bob. That’s why me and Ernie came down. Bob’s reason why both of us are still here, like. I mean, still breathing, not just in Colchester”

“Explain”

I could see what he was doing there. He knew I had the history, the memories, and he was giving me the room to let them out to breathe and educate the ignorant, like that smarmy bastard with the slicked back hair.

“We got ashore on day two, not in the first wave, like, and first day was fine except… except he had me out of the hatch so we could steer better. Didn’t want to run over any of the lads that had copped it already, he said. Show them respect. First day weren’t too bad, but next one, well, we did get shot at, and you never get used to it no matter how familiar it gets, but then it only gets familiar if you don’t stop one. That were Bob, that were his skill. He took us right up to Denmark, and he had a nose for it, for where not to be when the next AP round comes screaming up the road and you hear your mates screaming over the net as they burn”

I gave Charles a stare at that one. Definitely never been at the sharp end. Bastard.

“And Bob hit me once, in Normandy. I froze. I was watching all those lads dying in the wheat, burning, and I froze, so he slapped me round the head and told me to do my job, and I suppose that’ll get him on another charge, aye?”

“It’s all right, Private Barker”

“No, it’s not. Bob slapped me because it were right thing to do, and he hugged me for same reason, and he got us all blind drunk after I shot that Jerry in the neck and Wilf copped it, and they are all not in accordance with proper military discipline, aye?

“Indeed, Gerald. Now, let us go back to Normandy…”

He led me through it all, slowly, gently, and when we got to Belsen, and Harry…

“Was Harry unavailable for this trial, Gerald?”

“Harry couldn’t get the smell of that place out of his boots. He had an accident with a pistol on ferry home”

Captain Flanagan paused, just a minute, then asked the question. “How have you been sleeping, Gerald?”

I sighed. “Badly, that’s how. I get dreams, sometimes when I’m awake. Something sets me off at times. I mean, there were a deer run over on back road a while ago, and it were there for weeks, and the smell, well. Mostly, it’s faces. Usually bloke I shot in neck. He took too long to die”
“The court will remember earlier testimony as to the incident with the SS man in Belgium, and the death of Private Braithwaite. Private Barker, thank you for your service to this court. I have no further questions”

The Judge Advocate looked at Brylcreem Boy, who shook his head. “Private Barker, you may take a seat in the rear of this court while we hear the other witnesses, or you may depart”

He shot a sharp look at our Captain. “And this court DOES thank for your service to it. Next witness.

Ernie was in next, and he told much the same story as me, without the bit about hugs, until our man brought it up.

“Aye, sir. Ginge—Private Barker—he’s a sensitive lad, a bit innocent, like. Goodwood were a mess, but difference is I were in turret all the time, even when we’re not closed down I see nowt, but Ginge and Bob, WO Wainwright, they had a grandstand view. I just saw it after, like. Sorry, didn’t mean the joke about grandstand, what with it being Goodwood, sir”

“I understand, Ernest. What happened that day?”

“Ginge got gripped. I mean, we’d seen, he’d seen plenty of dead, aye? But this was like being at pictures, the way the lads described it, tank after tank, bang, flash, flames and screaming”

He paused. “I got some of the screams, like, over net. Not good. Not at all”

“And what did WO Wainwright do?”

“Clipped Ginge round head, told him to do his fucking job—sorry. Told him to do job he were there for”

“And afterwards? After you returned to replenish?”

Ernie stared at him. “Weren’t nowt queer about that. Ginge were breaking, and Bob gave him a hug, brought him back to us. We all need that in places like, well, when Wilf went, I think we all got a bit merry”

“Stinking drunk, I believe”

“Aye, absolutely. Well, we were fast asleep in tent, someone had put blankets over us, and we were ALL cuddled up. I were first awake; happen I needed to pee—urinate .Nowt queer about that, either”

“How is your sleep, Ernie?”

Matthew was up next, his full name and honours causing a small stir, and he talked the Board through that day he lost his friend, and then gave an account of the view he had been given of the Tiger we had killed.

“I would not care to venture exactly how many of my men owe their lives to the actions of this one crew that afternoon, but the number in question is not inconsiderable”

“How is your sleep, Major Folland?”

Rodney made me want to cry, not just with his account of the things we had shared, but of what had happened so soon afterwards.

“There are bugle calls, each time. They believe it saps morale, and they may be correct. We had Cents then, Centurions, far superior to our kit for the previous show, but even so… They attack in crowds, human waves they apparently call it, and it is most peculiar. So many targets one cannot actually focus on a target, and there were instances when one saw and marvelled, because it could not be real. I saw men urinating in the midst of battles, because it was the only way to cool their MG barrels. Even in the snow, our gun and mortar crews were working without blouses or shirts the effort was so great, and all the time men were being killed next to each of us”

“Your arm, Major?”

“Oh yes. My arm. We were hit, lost a track. Two rounds hit the glacis and didn’t penetrate, and I was getting the crew out. They began to machine gun us, and I took one through my elbow. Warrant Officer Wainwright brought his own vehicle forward and placed it between ours and the enemy, and directed counterbattery fire onto the gun. Typical of Bob, absolutely typical. I still lost the arm, though”

“How is your sleep, Major?”

Rodney glared at Brylcreem Boy. “I venture to suggest that those who have walked this path will have no need for an answer to that question. For the benefit of those who have not served their country in such a manner—“

The Major winced. On target, fire for effect.

“One never forgets such events. I know that Gerald hasn’t, for when he was a guest in my house I heard him shouting in the small hours, and my housekeeper has confirmed his distress. I initially sought refuge from the night horrors in sleeping pills from my doctor, but after I was tempted to take rather too many of them when I was feeling particularly unworthy and unable to continue, the MO is unsurprisingly unhappy to offer me another opportunity”

“You attempted suicide, Major?”

“Not at all, Captain, as such is against the law. I merely took rather more than was good for me, and my housekeeper was decent enough to seek medical assistance before my mistake was irrevocable. I took up alcohol instead”

“Are you still drinking, Major, to excess?”

“Not any more, Captain. Young Gerald here has given me something to stay sober for. Bob Wainwright is that reason”

“Thank you, Major Nolan. I have no further questions tor this Officer”

‘Charles’ once more shook his head, and the JA called for him to sum up, and it was as nasty as I could and should have expected, with Bob’s actions not only being prejudicial to good order and discipline, but also too disgusting to be described in the way the prosecution had just done, and against God and Nature, and on at great length. The Judge Advocate looked around the board.

“Captain Flanagan?”

“Sir. It will be evident from the records of this hearing that Warrant Officer Wainwright was intending to offer a plea of guilty as charged, but later felt that to be incorrect and unfair, given his circumstances and history. He has declared that he is not guilty of the offence he was charged with, which is at first sight somewhat bizarre as he has not denied that he was actually discovered committing an unnatural and illegal act with another man and would therefore appear to be guilty in all senses.

“I would ask the Board to consider the events that underlie his behaviour. We have heard from two members of his crew, who have both testified to the pernicious effects arising directly from the horrors encountered during their valiant service to this country, and given the hell they saw, that should be given as valiant service to humanity as a whole.

“Both Privates have movingly told of how he directed, cajoled, chastised and protected them. Major Folland has described his courage and skill in destroying a much more powerful enemy unit, and of how many of his, our, men owed their lives to him. Major Nolan has described how the accused placed himself in harm’s way to save his comrades, and both Majors have told of the same dreadful dreams and night visitors that have resulted from their service.

“Then we have the testimony of WO Wainwright himself. This is a man who served the colours and his country with great distinction, from North Africa to the hills of Korea, a man who has told the same tale of mental disturbance and sleepless nights that his comrades and friends have related. I would assume that all soldiers who have walked that path suffer more or less in the same way. I cannot speak with authority, for I am not one of those to have given such service”

His gaze fell clearly on a major with glossy hair, who had the good grace to look down.

“Accordingly, I ask the Board to consider that while Warrant Officer second class Robert Wainwright—I will not list his decorations---that while WO Wainwright has admitted fully and completely his offences, he be found not guilty on the grounds that the balance of his mind was disturbed to such extent that he was incapable of proper reason, and that he be acquitted as not being of sound mind at the time of the offence. Thank you”

CHAPTER 27
They had taken the best part of three hours, and Staff Sullivan had done us proud with a private room to sit with Bob. He had even found us a tray of tea, proper Army brew. Bob had sat silent, staring at his cup, till Matthew laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Penny for them, Robert?”

He kept his eyes down. “Why are you all here?”

Ernie snorted. “For fuck’s sake, pardon my bloody French, you sat and heard why in that bloody court!”

“Aye, but I’m---“

“A comrade”. Rodney’s interruption hadn’t been loud, but it carried the necessary weight. “We’re all comrades, and everyone here is alive because of you. There is more, though. I rather believe we are all friends to boot. Matthew?”

“Oh, most definitely, old boy. We shall have to build on that aspect of our lives in a fitting way, what?”

Even Bob cracked a smile as he did the plummy toff to perfection.

“Major Folland…”

“Matthew, dear boy, if you please”

“Matthew. You sounded just like that when we met, no offence meant. Putting on airs, like”

“No offence taken, Robert. If I recall the events of that day correctly, I would have been more fittingly clad in brown corduroy than in battledress khaki”

“Beg pardon?”

Ernie was laughing. “Daft ha’porth. That joke, Matthew? Forty French frigates, right?”

Matthew grinned, and I realised he had a number of small scars only really visible as his face crinkled. “Absolutely, Ernie, old bean. Shall I tell it, or leave it to you?”

“Oh, you started it, you finish it!”

Mathew lolled back in his chair. “Well, it was the great Admiral Nelson, who on hearing the lookout’s cry from the crow’s nest of ‘French frigate fine off the starboard bow’ called Hardy to him. ‘Hardy, I must inspire the men to do their duty. If I am seen to be wounded, the red flow will unman them. Bring me my scarlet dress jacket to hide any blood I may shed and then engage the French vessel.’

“So Hardy brought forth his scarlet jacket, and Nelson donned it. Just as he replaced his hat, there was another cry from the lookout. ‘Make that forty four French frigates!’

“Nelson sighed. ‘Hardy’, he said, ‘Bring me my brown corduroy trousers’.”

A genuine laugh from Bob at last, just as Staff Sullivan appeared with his monkeys. “Have to get him ready for return to the court, gents. They’re back in in ten minutes”

Rodney nodded in gratitude. “Thank you for your kindness, Staff Sergeant”

“Not at all, sir. I did some work over there in ’44 and ’45. With Graves Registration, around Caen. Let us just say that I have a bit of an insight into what you boys went through, not like that man with the slippery head. I could—no, not here, not today. Boys will take the prisoner now, gentleman. Up with you, Mister Wainwright”

The Judge Advocate was looking hard at Charles as we went in, and ‘that man with the slippery head’ did not look happy. A thunder of boots as Bob was marched back in, and I fancied he was moving with more than a hint of returning spirit. The formalities were observed, and then the JA delivered his verdict, for it was clear that Charles had very little taste for it.

“Prisoner will stand. The verdict of this court is unavoidable. The accused has been found to be guilty as charged. Sit down, Mister Wainwright”

Something else was happening here, for he had been almost casual in revealing his decision, as if it was of no real importance. He looked across to our little officer.

“Captain Flanagan, may we congratulate you on your presentation of this case. You have honoured your position, your Corps and this court with the energy and passion you have given to your duty, and I rather feel that you have seen it as more of a vocation than an assignment. Unfortunately, we cannot accept the notion of unsound mind, for if that were so no man who has properly served the colours could ever be convicted of any offence, no matter how serious. The case you presented is one entirely composed of mitigation, not defence.

“The facts are, in the end, incontrovertible. Warrant Officer Wainwright was caught in the actual moment he committed an act with another man that is not only against Civil and Military law but also against nature and God’s Holy Word. There can be no other verdict but that he is guilty.

“There remains, though, that very question of mitigation, which I will admit has divided this Court. I will not, therefore, expect to hear more offered. Is there indeed more? No? Thank you, Captain Flanagan. It is therefore the sentence of this court that Warrant Officer Wainwright will serve a term of imprisonment which will be equal in length to the period he has already been detained in this place, and that he be discharged from the service, that discharge to be an honourable one”

Flanagan was looking smugly at Brylcreem Boy, whose face was betraying more than a hint of frustrated rage. Our Captain stood. “Sir, may I ask if the sentence is a further term, or if you are saying that WO Wainwright has already served said period of imprisonment?”

The Judge Advocate smiled wearily. “The good chap has indeed served his penance, but I must add before he leaves this place that our leniency is entirely due to his outstanding service record, to the service he has indeed given to persons here and to his Sovereign and his nation. WO Wainwright?”

“SIR!”

“Be aware that this Court can offer no further assistance to you. The balance sheet of your sins is now clear, so in the words of our Lord, go, and sin no more, for if you do He will be the only one who may defend you”

They nodded, rose and left the courtroom. The two monkeys looked confused, clearly having expected a return march with Bob to the glasshouse, and Sullivan waved them away before approaching us.

“How much kit you got in the mess, Bob?”

“Trunk and a couple of kitbags, but most of it’s issue, so happen I won’t need it. What the bloody hell just happened?”

Sullivan grinned. “Charlie Boy there just got his nose put well out of joint. Remember that service I told you about, posting with the Graves boys?”

Most of us nodded or grunted that we did. “Well, I happen to know that Colonel Drayson had two sons at Goodwood, Hussars they were. They’re still out there, if you see what I mean. He doesn’t forget, that one. Now, Bob, your kit. Where do you want it delivered? I can make a telephone call, get it picked up”

“I can always—“

“No, you can’t. Discharged, that’s you. Still got your service pension, still got your LS and GC, but you’ve got no right of entry to service establishments no more. I can get the local redcaps to pick it up; I just need to know where to send it”

I put a hand up, as if I were at school, just as Rodney cleared his throat.

“No, Gerald, you were first. I was going to offer Robert a place, as I am sure you will have guessed”

“Aye, Rodney. What it is, it’s my dad-in-law. Well, not wed yet, but you know what I mean, aye? Well, Cyril, that’s his name, he’s got together with Dad and some other old lads, lads who know what it’s about from first one, like, and they’re saying they’ll find a place for Bob. Somewhere to live, job if they can, and it’s up home”

I turned back to my other friend, my other comrade. “Bob, it’s like Cyril says, my dad-in-law to be, like. Says when a man brings so many other lads back home in one piece, they don’t forget. He says that most people, they don’t know what we know, what they learned back in ’17 and ’18. That we look after ourselves, cause nobody else will. And he says we pay our debts.

“Happen they know what you were banged up for, but they say it doesn’t matter, cause you brought me and Ernie here back safe, and my Tricia she says to me to come home safe, and I know that she meant to get you home safe as well. So it’s your choice, Bob. Not saying owt bad about Rodney’s place”

That man laughed. “No, Gerald, I can tell, and I rather believe you are right. Robert, you need to find a life, make a new one for yourself. Now, with me it would just be two old soldiers rattling around in the old place, and you need to enter the world once more. I do trust I will be compelled to receive visitors from time to time, though”

New life was there for Rodney as well, it seemed. I reached out to shake his single hand.

“Happen it’ll be me that has the visitors, once I get that sorted. Rodney, Matthew? You’ll come and see me wed to my Tricia?”

Ernie was quick off the mark. “You don’t ask me or Bob?”

“Happen you live just round corner, Ernie, and can smell a free meal from forty mile off, so how could I keep you out? As for Bob, well, I’ll need a best man when I get wed, won’t I?”

I found a gentle smile on my face. “Bob, will you do that for me? Best man, like. Can’t think of a better one”

He nodded. There were tears.

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.

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.

CHAPTER 30
It started quietly, but it gathered speed as it continued. Bob didn’t say anything, but I caught little hints in the pubs and when I visited his place. The odd snide remark, almost always from the younger drinkers; the bit of broken glass he’d missed picking up from his carpet. It was harder to miss the dog shit smeared over his street door, though. His float was kept at the dairy overnight, so they couldn’t get at it, but I soon realised that it was a steady and concerted campaign.

“How long, Bob? How long has this been going on?”

We were sitting outside the Blacksmith’s Arms on a warm April evening, the buds out and Summer already knocking at the door. He just looked up to a skylark shouting its joy to the air and made no answer.

“Bob, you aren’t on your own, not here. There’s lads who’ll stand by thee. You know that. Don’t you?”

That last was added on as I suddenly asked myself how much he believed me, how much trust he had in his friends.

“Bob, you’ve got friends here”

He looked at me at last, head cocked slightly. “No, Ginge, you’ve got friends here. Your friends. There’s people here say they owe me, like, the man who brought lads back alive. They’re your friends, though, not really mine”

“And me, and Tricia? Ernie?”

He was silent for a while, staring into his glass. “Aye, Ginge, happen you’re right there. But…”

He took a mouthful of his ale. “Not like the foreign piss, this. Proper ale. Tells me I’m home. And that’s the problem, my friend. I can’t really have a home, can I?”

“This is your home, Bob”

“Tell me, Ginge: you planning on having children, you and your girl?”

“Um…”

We were actually trying as often and as enthusiastically as we could, but married life is not something to discuss with anyone outside the bedroom door.

“Er, aye, we would like kids. Dad would be right made up, and Mam. Cyril, dad in law, aye? He says he’d like a lad to take up Moors, show him what’s what”

“Ginge, you don’t have to answer this, aye? Just listen. You and your lass, you share something. It’s physical, and that’s fun, but it’s more than that. You don’t stay with Tricia cause you get a bit of how’s your father, but because you fit together, and I don’t mean like that”

I knew I was red, but he was right. He took another mouthful before continuing in his quiet way.

“Ginge, she completes you. It’s what a man should have, like, it is not good that the man should be alone”

“Genesis”

“Aye. I know what Rodney said to you, about the bumboys at his school, how it were all about fucking and nowt else, but that’s not what life is about, what a man’s life should be about. I’ve done a lot of thinking, my friend, a lot over the years. A man shouldn’t be alone, it’s not right, and it’s bloody lonely”

“Tricia’s got mates—“

“I don’t do women, Ginge. Sorry to be blunt, but that’s me. I can see them as people, I can hold fast to them as friends, but more, no. I can’t share with them, not the way a man, a human fucking being should. Why God made me like this I will never, ever know, not till Last Trump. Happen He might tell me then, but it’ll be a bit late”

“There must be others like you, round City, like”

“Aye, lad, happen there are, and the police will be watching me like hawks. I meet up with someone like me, and he goes to prison, like as not. I couldn’t do that to anyone; lads get killed in places like that”

He wouldn’t say more, but he had said more than enough. I could never understand what it felt like, wanting to be with a man; it was all wrong, and I knew that every time I was with Tricia. Still I felt for him. It is not good that the man should be alone.

It was a fortnight later when I went round to his place again, May bringing real warmth to the narrow streets, and I went to call up to his window when I saw that it was shut. Shut on such a warm day? I hammered on the front door till one of the other tenants answered, and both smells hit me at once. The old man who had answered looked puzzled as I stepped over the fresh dog shit that had been posted through the letterbox and ran up the stairs to Bob’s room. That smell…

“GET OUT! GAS! GAS! GAS!”

It took three goes before I put the door in, and he was there, calm and rosy-cheeked in his chair, the whisky bottle empty beside him and the hiss of the unlit oven louder than anything I had heard since the AT round had smashed our tank and crew to pieces. I flung the windows open after shutting the gas off, and saw that he had actually turned out the pilot light, thank God.

“CALL AN AMBULANCE!”

I got an arm under him and hauled him out of the armchair, so limp, so heavy, and half lifted, half dragged his body to the door, wanting to throw up. A couple of passers-by arrived at the top of the stairs as I came out of the room, and we got him out to the street where one of them, who clearly had some knowledge, checked for a pulse before looking at me sadly and shaking his head.

I found out where the bastard drank, and three days after Bob had been taken away under a blanket, two days before the inquest was due, I was waiting for him. He had three mates with him, but I didn’t care.

I stepped out of the ginnel I had been waiting in. “I want a word with you, Taylor”

“Oh fuck off you long streak of ginger piss. Four of us? You think you’re a hard man cause you drove around in a tank once?”

A calm and measured voice spoke from behind me.

“Thomas Armstrong, Will Elson, Colin Dykes. You run off home now before I have to remember your names officially. Be good gentlemen. Now”

The four looked at each other.

“Sharpish now, lads”

Taylor’s three mates left in a hurry, and I looked round to see the copper who had been at the Museum Gardens in November. He touched his helmet in salute to me. “Better you lads go down the ginnel a bit. Happen I won’t be able to see what goes on from here”

Taylor looked pale in the street lights, pale and nervous, but as we entered the narrow alley he turned quickly and punched me hard in the face. I staggered back, so his next swing missed me, and my training came back as I jabbed him in the face three times, blocking another wild swing with my left forearm before I really caught him full in the face. I felt and heard his nose go, and as his head went back I closed the gap and hit him with a combination of six or seven punches before deciding that I really didn’t care what people thought of me and kicking him hard between the legs.

He went down in a heap, whimpering, and as I was deciding whether or not to kick him again I saw how close his head was to the kerbstone. I knelt down and took a handful of his thinning hair. Just lift, get it over the edge of the stone and smash, one less problem for humanity.

“Now now, Mr Barker. Happen I couldn’t let that one go by unseen. You leave this vermin here and get yourself home to your wife. Amazing how much damage a man can do to himself when he’s had a few too many, isn’t it, Mr Taylor? Off home now, Gerald. You have to give Mr Wainwright a proper send-off, and you won’t do it from inside a cell”

I did take time to do one thing, though, before I got my bike and rode home, and that was to spit on Taylor. Tricia was waiting up for me when I got home, silent as she bathed the wounds to my face, and that night in bed she was tender at first, so gentle, and then more passionate than she had ever been before, as if to show how she approved of what she knew I had done, what I had had no choice in doing.

She came back to bed after cleaning herself up, and wrapped herself around me as if to anchor me to her.

“Well done, love”

“I should have killed him. I had the chance”

“No, love. You shouldn’t have. That wouldn’t be the man I married, the man I loved. That wouldn’t be the dad you’ll be to our kids”

She kissed me on the cheek. “I’m two weeks late with my monthlies, love. I think we need to start thinking of names”

CHAPTER 31
The round came through the front left hatch, tearing Wilf to pieces. Bob’s hand grabbed for my haul loop, but I had to see, and as I leant forward the flames started up around me, rounds cooking off from the bow MG, and Tricia holding me tight as I screamed and thrashed.

“It’s all right, love. It’s all right. You’re safe now. Home, aye? Home. In bed with someone as loves you, so let it go, love. Let it go”

I lay still for a minute or so, little tics and tremors rippling through my forearms, Tricia’s head on my chest.

“That were a bad one, pet. Cup of tea?”

“I’ll get it, lass”

“No need, love. I were awake anyway; mornings, all that, you know”

She was back a few minutes later, with a couple of slices of buttered toast as well as our tea. She looked at me through the steam rising from her own cup.

“It’s cause of today, isn’t it?”

“Doesn’t help, love. I mean, what are they going to say? We all know he did for himself, and that’s not something he should have to carry, even after, you know…”

“Gerald Barker, he were killed by idiots and nasty fools who never knew how well off they bloody were, scuse my French. I don’t hold with fighting, but you did right with that pig. I almost wish you’d done for him properly”

“Tricia, love, I was tempted, I really was, but that copper, he were dead right. Anyway, that lad will have to live with what he did”

“Gerald Barker, sometimes, you---“

She took a deep breath. “Love, he will still be gloating about it to his mates. No sense, no feeling, and no shame, no remorse. Lots of folk like him, and not many like you”

She leant over and kissed me, which was always nice, murmuring something about getting something right for once in her life, and I was a little worried about the baby, but, well, we were married.

Cyril hammered on the door at seven, Rodney and Matthew behind him.

“Kettle on, son? Your dad’s bringing your boots over in twenty minutes, he said, so a bacon sandwich would be nice and proper friendly, like”

“Er, Tricia’s not that well in the mornings, Dad, and frying…”

His eyes widened. “You sure? Doctor sure?”

“Er, aye. Sure. About six weeks, two months, we think”

“Gentlemen, one of you please take bag of breadcakes off me. Ta”

He flung himself at me, almost breaking my ribs. “A grand dad, that’s what I’m going to be, gents. I knew I was right about this lad! Now, our Tricia, she can take smell of cooked bacon?”

“Er, aye. Just the cooking does her stomach no good”

“Good job I brought some ready cooked and in breadcakes”

Rodney looked at Matthew, who raised an eyebrow and held up a large brown paper bag.

“Breadcakes, Cyril?”

“Aye. Rolls, buns, like. With bacon in them. Have us breakfast before we go to do our duty”

“Ah. Thank you, my friend. Rodney, I do believe I am broadening my education immeasurably in these distant parts. Gerald, what of young Ernie?”

“Seeing us there, Matthew. Oh, come in, all of you. Tricia’s decent by now”

I took them into front room and went to start the kettle going again. Dad, true to his word, had bulled my old boots to black mirrors, and as usual I had done my own ironing to get the shirt just so, my blazer already set with my medals. It wasn’t that far to the court, so we walked, the weather still set fair and as warm as that day I had found my friend. Ernie met us there, in the same rig as me, our British Legion best of blazer, khaki slacks, bulled boots and regimental beret.

“You ready for this, Ginge?”

“Aye, lad. Got news for you as well”

Ernie looked over at Cyril, who was grinning like that Wonderland cat, and gave me his own grin to go with it.

“How many months gone, Ginge?”

“Think about two, Ernie”

“Then we do what we can for our comrade, our mate, and then we get a pint in, aye? Wet baby’s head, like, in advance”

“Bit early, pal”

“Aye, but it’s as good an excuse for a pint as any other, and better than most. You really ready for this?”

“Aye. Come on”

It was a very different experience to my other court day, as it wasn’t a trial of people but of facts. I must admit that I got a bit lost, because we were at an inquest into how Bob died rather than a search for a guilty party, but I did my best.

“Mr Barker, in the words of our old service, you may stand easy. Do not worry about honorifics, titles and so on. If you merely remember to call Officers of the Court ‘sir’ it will suffice. Now, Mr Barker, I do believe you were first on the scene?”

“Aye. Yes, sir”

“Could you please describe what you experienced?”

I went through that afternoon’s horror step by step, and it was only when the usher handed me the little box of paper tissues that I realised the distress I was in.

“Are you fully up to continuing your evidence, Mr Barker?”

“Yes sir. If I can have a few seconds…”

“Mr Barker, it is in the nature of these proceedings that we are dealing with the loss of a friend, a loved one perhaps, and we are therefore enjoined, encouraged and indeed willing to exercise such patience as is necessary or appropriate. You served with Warrant Officer Wainwright?”

“Yes, sir. Same crew from D plus two right up to end. Well, end in Europe, that is”

“Excellent and impeccable war service record, I am informed. Be aware I served in the RAMC for my own sins. Now, you say the deceased was obviously drunk?”

There was just a flicker of his eyes, but I suddenly understood what he was doing, and it was damned well leading the witness. Where to?

“I assume he were drunk, sir, as he had empty bottle beside chair”

“Was the kettle full or empty?”

Think, Gerald. “Full, I think, sir?

“On the hob?”

Ah. “Aye, sir. Yes”

“You have already stated that the pilot light was out on the gas range. You are an engineer, I believe, Mr Barker”

“Well, I fix boat engines down by lock, sir, by Naburn”

“No matter. Usher?”

The black crow scurried forward, took instructions, and shot off out the door. The coroner looked back towards me and gave a genuine smile.

“Mr Barker, I do believe we have solved the riddle of the demise of our unfortunate friend. I have asked the court to secure the services of a gas engineer for this afternoon’s hearings, but I do believe we have covered the important parts of this investigation. Thank you. Could you please remain within the building until we recommence? This hearing is adjourned until one o’clock”

We gathered as a group in the cafeteria, Dad grinning almost happily.

“He’s a cheeky one, that’un. Happen he’s doing Bob a favour. Cyril, fancy a wager?”

“Against a dead cert, lad? Do I look daft?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want an answer to, pal. Gerald, he’s faced with a choice of verdicts here. Now, there’s ‘unlawfully killed’, which we all know it really were, but he won’t be able to make that one stick. Then there’s ‘suicide’, which none of us wants, am I right?”

I nearly disagreed with that one, because all I could see was that face as I punched it, as I lifted it by the hair over the kerb stone. It would have been so, so easy. Dad continued.

“What Gerald’s given him is the other option, which is ‘misadventure’, an accident, like. I’ll lay pound to penny with anyone that’s dafter than Cyril that he’ll get that gas fitter in and ask just the right questions for a ‘death by misadventure’, and then I’ll do rounds”

“Rounds, Dad?”

“Aye, son. Give Bob proper send-off; rub bastards’ noses in it”

Matthew nodded. “When you have a date, dear boy, I will make my own call. Shall I be mother? It will get awfully cold if we let it brew any longer”

By one-thirty the court was finished with hearing evidence, a gas fitter in beige overall the last, and the next day the Coroner gave his verdict: death by misadventure due to failure of the pilot light while Mr Wainwright was incapable through drink. Three days later…

We left St Lawrence’s after a service that left many of us in tears, many of the men, that is. Uniforms had helped fill the pews along with many, many Legion men and several widows wearing the medals inherited from their husbands. I saw so many old friends, so many stricken faces, as well as several that were darker with anger, for despite what the Coroner had recorded, we all knew who was to blame. Rodney appeared later than most, and I realised that the woman his ‘man’ was pushing in a wheelchair was dear Beattie, finally past the prime she had given to her boy the Major. We sang our hymns, heard our lesson, and I tried to blank out the eulogy. The night before, I had thrashed awake from yet another dream, this one of two men rolling and fighting in the snow, the pistol heavy in my hands as I shot one of them in the throat, and so much blood bright against the unmarked winter ground, but both men had had Bob’s face, and I had hurt Tricia with my kicking.

No, I didn’t want to hear war stories.

We formed up in good order behind the hearse, flag over the coffin, and marched properly to the cemetery, where I saw to my surprise a Bedford 3-tonner waiting outside. Matthew moved up beside me.

“A little word in the East Riding’s ears, dear boy”

Bob went into the ground, a part of my soul with him. The Legion bugler played those notes we all knew. A section of Royal East Riding boys fired three sharp volleys over the grave. It was done.

I heard Taylor moved away to London the next day. I’d missed my chance.

CHAPTER 32
My dreaming grew worse for a while, but Tricia was always there, and as she grew I found myself so tense with fear of harming her or our child that the nightmares only stayed away because I never really fell asleep.

My lovely girl was blooming, really settling into ‘expecting’, and we had regular visits from my Mam and hers, as old baby clothes and other items like a cot and a pram were gathered in from contacts far and wide. Having family in the local bakery meant a LOT of contacts, which did us no harm.

Dad and Cyril helped us out with other contacts, and we went up in the world three months after Bob’s farewell, moving into a proper two-bedroom council house over by the Knavesmire. Naturally, I started on what we were already calling the nursery almost as soon as we opened the new front door that first day. Tricia just stood there grinning happily, one hand cradling her bump.

“We have to talk, Gerald. Important questions to be settled”

“What? Blue or pink?”

“Aye, pet, there’s that, but when Baby arrives, well, we can’t just call it ‘Baby’, now, can we? Wee one needs a name”

I think she already knew that I had one in mind, because she just smiled and said “We are not calling it Geraldine if it’s a little girl. I thought Susan would be nice. I don’t think Mam’s name is really one for modern girls, and, well, she would be right put out if we gave her your Mam’s name. So we need a middle one. And think of initials!”

“I always liked Jane, love”

“Really? Which Jane would that be, husband of mine?”

“You are a tease, Tricia Barker! Susan Jane sounds fine to me”

She looked down and away, then back at me. “My love, we both know what you would give a boy, so there’ll be no argument from me on that score, just to clear air before you look to avoid an argument we were never going to have. Robert is fine with me, and it will be with our family”

I kissed my wife, and as I was close enough I whispered in her ear. “Had an idea for middle name as well, pet. It sort of kills too birds with one stone. Happen we had nicknames for our tanks—“

“Gerald Barker, you can---“

Her voice had risen, so I held her at arms’ length and offered her my best smile.

“No, love, listen. Tanks we drove were called Cromwells, aye? So we called one Olly, bit of a joke about Stan and Ollie, so when we got replacement, well, it were Stan—“

“I am not having any Stanleys or Olivers---“

“No, love. Your maiden name, like some folk do, that were my thought, and it would fit in with Olly and Stan, nice as you like. Robert Hardy Barker. Means we keep your family name alive as well for when, you know…”

“I’ll not think of things like that with new life on way, love, but aye. Robert Hardy Barker. Sounds good to me”

So of course I had to give her another kiss. We were married, and it was allowed.

Work was going well, and the boss had done wonderfully in securing a contract with Hoseasons, who were expanding rapidly in the business of boating holidays. They weren’t my style of boat, mostly cabin cruisers of various styles, but they came to us for repair and general maintenance and our workload went up in a big way. I was grateful when Mr Dobbs took on three new mechanics, and gobsmacked when he only went and made me foreman, charge hand, gaffer, call it what you like. It brought me an increase in wages of almost a quarter of what he had been paying me, which not only left me in even greater shock but just about lost for words.

“Gerald, I were right when I took you on, and I’ve seen that proved every day. There’s more to you than just staying a mechanic, lad. Think on: you go looking for another job, bit of man management on your record will do no harm”

“Why would I want to leave, Mr Dobbs?”

“Starting a family, lad. It’s a big thing, and it brings bills. This is a new world, not like it was before War. Things are moving on. I don’t want to lose a good man, so I’ll pay what it takes to keep him. Makes sense to me. Anyway, new contract is paying well, so I should share some of my good fortune. Oh, and be sure to give my regards to that Major of yours. You did well in that business. Just keep proving I were right to take you on, and we’ll both be happy. You got name for little’un yet?”

“Aye. We were thinking Susan Jane or Robert Hardy. Depending, you know”

“Aye, I know. Well, best of luck. And have word with Bert Entwhistle from Legion; get a telephone in, just in case. Bert can help with waiting list”

He turned away to the office phone, picking it up and raising an eyebrow. It made sense, and I nodded. He dialled.

“Bert? Aye, it’s me, who else would be ringing you, unless you’ve got some floozy hidden away somewhere. Got young Gerald here, Barker, aye? Aye. Aye. What’s waiting list like? Aye? Littl’un on way, might need—Bert, thanks. It’s not true what they say about you. Aye, and yours. I’ll let him know. Tara!”

He hung up and turned back to me. “Says he can get line in in three weeks. That suit?”

“Aye. Be right handy if, you know, she has her time come a bit early, like”

“Aye, happen. Any road, you look after that little girl”

“No need to worry about that, Mr Dobbs”

“Aye, but there’s a cruiser there needs new filters. Won’t fit themselves, lad”

I was amazed. New house, new responsibilities, new child on way, and now a TELEPHONE! Next thing would be a telly, or even a motor. Bike or car, I didn’t care. If it were a bike, I could get a sidecar for Bob and Tricia and…

Just that name. It cut me deep, and I decided that if he were a lad he would know all about his namesake, ALL about it, and if…

The thought stung, but it was there, and I faced it squarely. He would be our son, my son, and if he liked lasses all would be fine, and if he liked lads, then all would be just as fine, and anyone like Taylor would find that out the hard and brutal way. I understood now why my own father, so often so remote, had stood by me all through Bob’s fall, and I wondered whose little word in Taylor’s shell-like had hit home hardest. There were words in my mind when I thought about him, and they were words I would never say aloud, but I had been a soldier and by God even if I would never say them aloud I knew every obscenity going, and I could think them.

Calm now, Gerald, and buy Bert a pint next time you see him.

Bert was as good as his word, and three weeks later we had a telephone on a little stand Dad had made, just by our front door. I cuddled my wife carefully as we looked at our new toy.

“Going up in world, love”

“Aye aye, Mr Foreman!”

“That’s Navy, lass, not Army”

“Yes sir!”

“And that’s not how you salute, and you’ve not got hat on, so you wouldn’t—“

She shut me up the nicest way she could, little Bob pressing into me.

Christmas came almost unexpectedly, and New Year followed, the Sixties hitting us in no way at all noticeable at the time. I mean, everyone now goes on about the changes in everything, but it wasn’t like that at all. No sudden shrinking of skirts, no boom in drug taking or sudden change in musical styles. Things went on as they had, and Tricia’s time was getting very near.

“You sure, love?”

“I’ve got my bag packed and I know the number. Nine nine nine. I’ve written down number of pub on pad by telephone if I need anything. You go out and have your pint, and don’t come back stinking. Give Dad a kiss for me”

“I will not! I’ll tell him you sent one, is all!”

“Off you go now, love, and be careful with ice”

I kissed her goodbye and went off to Dad’s local, which was no longer mine as I was a family man of means and not a lad living with his parents. How did all that happen so quickly?

Cyril and Dad were buggers for their cribbage, and even though we were only playing for matches they were merciless. I went to get the round in after yet another stripping, and the landlord called me over.

“Gerald? Got your lass on phone, she sounds upset”

I grabbed the handset from him. “Tricia?”

“Oh, thank God! I really hurt, love. Can you get home sharp?”

“Call an ambulance now, love”

“No, pet. It’s bad wind, just need you to help me into bath. Hot bath, that’ll ease it”

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, love. Just need help getting in and out. Be nice if you’re quick home, pet”

“Aye, but anything else you call ambulance, right?”

“Right. Now get on road, love”

Cyril looked up as I came back to our table without his beer.

“My darling OK?”

“Stomach upset, she says. Warm bath will help—she says!”

“Aye. Women always know best. Want lift home?”

“You sure?”

“Aye. You’ve got nowt else to win off you, so might as well. Sid, Bert, next time, aye?”

We got a chorus of goodnights and Cyril drove us with exaggerated care to my street, and insisted on coming in to say hello.

“I’ll check she’s decent first, Dad”

He laughed, up until the moment when the front door wouldn’t open. Something was blocking it, and fear shot into me.

“Back door! Hurry!”

I nearly took it off its hinges and oh dear God the blood in the kitchen, the trail to where she was lying against the front door, so much blood, and the phone was answered on the third ring

“Police, fire or ambulance?”

CHAPTER 33
There was a lot of noise and bustle when the ambulance went off, but even though it had only taken ten minutes to get to the house each of those minutes had been an age to me.

Tricia was bleeding from between her legs, and with Cyril’s help and the telephone operator’s calm advice we had jammed two bath towels under her skirt and I was pressing them hard against her private parts. For a very few seconds I had felt embarrassed to find myself in that position with my wife’s father looking on, but the dreadful reality ended that. So much blood…

I didn’t want to move her, you don’t if you can help it I had been told, but Cyril had found a pulse, weak but nevertheless a pulse. The ambulance crew had a bag of some liquid or other, I don’t think it was blood, and while one of them moved me gently but firmly away from my wife, the other searched for a vein.

“What’s her name, son?”

“Tricia. Tricia Barker”

“Do you know what blood group she is?”

“No…”

Cyril chipped in. “Type O, son”

There were more questions, about her age and how long she had been expecting, but eventually the man had all he wanted, and suggested I go and put the kettle on.

“I don’t want to leave---“

“Gerald. Go to the kitchen. Get out of these lads’ way”

Cyril’s voice wasn’t loud, but the tone was there. I stood up.

“And wash those hands, son”

I looked down. So much blood, all of it hers, or Robert Hardy Barker’s.

They wouldn’t let me in the ambulance, so Cyril drove, mounting the pavement a couple of times, but he got us there. Tricia had been taken straight in, but a doctor was with us ten minutes after we were sat down, and it wasn’t in the usual place the cartoonists filled with kids with saucepans on their heads. This was a private room. We hadn’t been there five minutes when my mother, father and mother-in-law rushed in. Mam was to the point.

“Taxi fares we can argue about later, son. Where is the lass?”

That was when the doctor came in, a Doctor Holdsworth as he introduced himself, and he wasn’t looking at any of us properly, because he was only a young lad, not much older than me, and he was so hesitant, and Cyril, Dad, just put their hands one on each of my shoulders as Dad murmured “Breathe, son”

The young man cleared his throat. “Mr Barker?”

Dad and I replied as one, and there was a moment of confusion, just an instant, on the doctor’s face before he began the speech to me.

“I’m dreadfully sorry, Mr Barker, to have to tell you…”

No, I didn’t faint or black out, nothing like that in any way at all. I just stopped listening as he spoke about what he called placental abruption, blood loss, and I was grieving for my little boy, but Mam was sobbing as I played the doctor’s words over again in my head, and it wasn’t just the baby, oh no, nothing as simply dreadful as that, but it was my Tricia, my lover, my wife as well, and that is when I just sat down on the worn carpet and bawled like a child. The doctor lost his flow at that, and I realised he was crying himself, and asked myself how someone so young could have been handed such an awful job to do, which was when I realised I was sitting outside myself watching a tall red-haired man digging his fingers into a worn-out piece of cloth and all but screaming.

Dad led the doctor out, and in a while there was a nurse, and cups of tea, and a vicar or chaplain or whatever he was called came in and asked what he could do for us, even though he knew the answer was nothing at all, absolutely nothing.

I was staring into my tea, eyes sore as they dried out after I had shed every tear in my body, when the chaplain spoke to me.

“Gerald? Perhaps this is the wrong time, but, well, did you have a name for the child?”

I turned my face to his, seeking any sign he was taking the Michael, but no, he was serious.

“I don’t even know what my… our child would have been, vicar”

“It’s just Archie here, Gerald. Archie”

“Aye. We had names picked out, Archie. But…”

He reached out to put a hand on my knee, which was a bit odd, but I didn’t mind. Compared to what had just happened I couldn’t actually find the strength to mind anything.

“It was a little girl, Gerald. She was a little girl”

“She was Susan Jane Barker then”

That set Mam off again, and then Dr Holdsworth came back in.

“Mr Barker, we have… We have done what we can, and if you wish you can see your wife before…”

Before she goes into a fridge, he meant. Before we put her in the ground, along with little Suzy, unless the hospital did other things to children who arrived before they could be born. Cyril laid an arm over my shoulders, and I wondered how he could stay so quiet, so calm.

“I’ll sort out arrangements, son. You go along and say goodbye to or girl. We’ll stop by after you’re done”

It was over. My life lay in a hospital gown under a single sheet on a metal trolley, and after all five of us had had our moments the Hospital Friends brought round an old ambulance they used to run girls from the nurses’ home and dropped all of us except Cyril off at my place, no longer ‘ours’. I looked at the front door, knowing what state it was in, what marked the carpet and the walls, and put my key away. Cyril pulled up, handing his wife the keys as he climbed out.

“The two of you get back to ours, pet. We’ll be home later”

Mam just nodded, and as they drove off Cyril raised an eyebrow.

“Red Lion? Abie Brown usually does a lock-in”

Dad nodded sharply. “Aye. Let’s make sure we forget this fucking day”

The news had clearly reached the pub, York being the way it is, and a minute after we had sat down, there was a tray at our table with six pints of ale, three tumblers, and a bottle. We ended up sleeping in the pub, and when I awoke with the taste of death in my mouth all I could remember was a tent in Belgium, a pile of blankets and a similar hangover.

I don’t remember much of the funeral, because I had seen too many of them already and I was hitting the gin a bit too much just then. We went to a church, hymns were sung and words said, and then they put my life into a hole and shovelled dirt onto it. I had found one moment of lucidity, though, and begged the hospital to let little Susan Jane Barker sleep with her mother rather than being incinerated, cremated, burned. The only bright spot in the day, if you can call something utterly black “bright”, was that we had found somewhere near Bob for the girls, and that meant that they had the best person in the world to watch over them as they slept.

CHAPTER 34
They wouldn’t stop banging on the door, and that early in the morning my head wasn’t up to the disturbance. I managed to get down the stairs without falling over, though, and wrenched the front door open.

“What?”

They made quite a group at the front step, with both Dads, Rodney, Matthew and Mr Dobbs, who looked me up and down and muttered something about expecting better. Despite the fact that I was still in pyjamas and barefoot, they pushed past me into the back room. Rodney was straight to the point.

“Matthew? Can you make up the fire, get some water heating? Cyril, Sidney, can you deal with the bottles? Thank you”

I started forward. “That one’s still got—“

“PRIVATE BARKER!”

Old reflexes, but still there. Rodney’s voice dropped to something like a purr, but there was still force to it, still that tone of command.

“Is this the man I saw through France and the rest? A drunkard and wastrel? Is this the man I count as a friend?”

Cyril chipped in. “Aye, and lad I were proud to call son? What would my Tricia—OUR Tricia—say about all this mess?”

Matthew couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and with his whisper of “Or Bob?” I fell apart. The sofa was there, one end clear of mess, and I just sat down and wept. It was all too much, and it had been too much ever since that awful day of the blood and the ambulance. There were still stains I would never be able to get out of the carpet, the last remnants of my life. Dad dumped the rubbish from the other end of the sofa onto the floor and, after just a little hesitation, laid his arm around my shoulder till I could get the messy sobs under control.

“So what were you going to do, son? Drink up till money’s gone? Wait for Council to kick you onto street when rent’s not paid?”

“I don’t---“

“WE care, son! Look at your boss there, who’s still been putting your wages aside even though you’ve done nowt for a month. Or he’ll tell you himself”

Mr Dobbs coughed, and I realised he was embarrassed. “I, er, I went and saw Council chaps, Gerald, and explained how you weren’t well, like, and you’ll find your wages a bit short… I sorted rent out for you”

I had nothing to say to that, but Matthew did. “We’ll have hot water in a while, Gerald, and you will bathe while we investigate the state of your wardrobe. Where is your iron?”

“In cupboard under stairs, with board. Why are you doing this?”

Cyril sighed, not quite theatrically. “Because you are the lad my Tricia chose, and she were dead right in that. In a way, you are all me and her mother have left of her, and… It’s a hard thing for us to say, son, but it’s what all the young folk say so easily, and, well, we love you. That’s said, and matter’s closed. Now, we’ve brought milk, just in case. I’ll get kettle on”

He looked at the cardboard boxes now full of empty bottles on his way to the kitchen, and muttered.

“Bin man’s going to be a bit off with all that glass”

They sat me down, and Cyril poured tea while they talked over my head, which was giving me a few problems, but they’d taken all the bottles, even the full ones. Eventually, with the help of some work with the kettle, they had a bath drawn for me, and to my shame Dad came in with me and scrubbed my back before shaving me. He clearly didn’t trust the state of my hands, and to be honest he was probably right.

Clothes were set out for me, ironed and clean, and my shoes had been blacked. I don’t know who did what, but half an hour after knotting my tie we were in Betty’s. Dad explained.

“Wanted somewhere you’d be on best behaviour, son, and no ale. Time you woke from your nightmares”

I looked sharply at him, wondering what the hell he was up to and wishing I could just crawl back into my bed, which had once been “our” bed. Mr Dobbs coughed for attention.

“It were my idea, Gerald. Let’s just say that I can still see the lad I took on and not the drunkard he won’t become, if you take my meaning. I have proposal for you, but after state of you this morn, well, I am in two minds”

Cyril was nodding. “Aye, Bernard here was right full of idea at first, and you’ve very nearly lost your chance, son. My daughter didn’t take up with a waster and a drinker, so it stops now. Stops cold and hard”

Mr Dobbs laid a manila envelope on the table next to the tea and the remains of the scones, which I had hardly touched.

“Gerald, I am getting on. I’ve run that place over thirty years, my Dad before me, and happen I have no family left, no son of my own. What we were talking about, me and Sid and Cyril here, was a sort of… Look, when I pass on, there needs to be someone to pass business onto, like. Not giving. I, well, business is taking off, what with cruisers and holidays and that, and, well, I were wondering if you would like to come in as partner. Not fitter, not foreman, but partner”

Really? “Wouldn’t that take money, Mr Dobbs? Investment and all, that what they call it? I haven’t got money like that”

Cyril coughed this time. “Happen me and Sid here have some put by, and, well…”

Matthew, as ever, broke up the confused shambles the conversation had fallen into. “Gentlemen, friends, we do have a proposal, do we not, Rodney?”

The Major nodded. “One of the ways that those of us with means retain and increase our assets is by careful investment in profitable concerns. I have a proposal, yes I do. Gerald, dear Mr Dobbs—“

“Bernard please, Major”

“Rodney, Bernard. Gerald, what I am offering is to advance you the wherewithal to accept this partnership, and without interest. We will agree a suitable rate of repayment, and you will adhere to it”

I looked round the table in shock, my hangover almost gone. “But what do you get out of it, Rodney?”

“I get the satisfaction of helping a dear friend in his hour of need, Gerald. Oh, and we agree some form of partnership for myself as well, so that when your loan is paid off, there is a modest return to my own funds. Will that suit?”

“Well…”

Mr Dobbs chipped in. “Condition, Gerald, is that I get lad back I took on. No more bins full of bottles”

Dad’s voice was softer. “Happen I know what it feels like, son, way of getting through waking hours and then through night, but after a while you’re drinking to feed the drink, not for yourself. I don’t think you’re quite there yet, but this is chance to do right by your friends and your family. Bernie here’s sticking his neck out for you, so can you do that much for him? For us?”

I looked round the table again, and saw Rodney looking down at his hands rather than at me. I wondered how he had beaten his own addiction. “Can I think on?”

Again it was Matthew. “No. Not at all. You either promise us here and now that we have our Gerald back or those of us who can walk away bloody well will. Do you hear me?”

I could see no way out, for they had prepared their ground well. “Can I have another pot of tea, Dad? I’m right dry”

Rodney laughed, ruefully. “That is how we prefer you, dear boy! Do we have an agreement?”

No choice. I could hear Tricia’s voice in my head, clear and full of common sense, which is far from ‘common’.

“Aye, Rodney. We have an agreement”

There were papers, and money in sums I had never imagined, and Bernard (no longer Mister) had a solicitor nearby who was already prepared, and I became part of Dobbs and Barker. The financial commitment staggered me, because all I could see was at least ten years of repayments ahead of me. Cyril clearly detected my nerves, and had his own quiet word with me as we left the little first-floor office.

“Happen you’ll be worried about keeping up repayments, son. Well, I don’t believe the Major will be too strict on that one, but rest easy”

He took a deeper breath, and I realised he was actually in a worse state than I was, so close to tears I thought he would burst from the strain of holding them back. A few more deep, sighing breaths.

“Son. That’s what we call you, me and our lass. Tricia were all we had, like”

And I had killed her, me, getting her in family way. “Cyril… Dad…I’m sorry—“

“No, Gerald. Never say that. Never say you were sorry for loving our little girl, for making her so happy. Never say sorry for making babby, never! Things happen, just happen. Could have been struck by lightning, could have been hit by bus. What happened happened, and none of us had any say in matter, any blame. Now, you just get on with your life and make it a good one, make us proper proud of you again. Now… now, I’ve put you in my will, son, for that’s who you are, and that’s my hand on it, and that’s talking done”

A few seconds elapsed before he asked for my hanky.

PART 3

CHAPTER 35
“Four as usual, Mr Barker?

“Aye, love. It’s that time of year again”

“We can take them… look, I don’t want to sound cheeky, like, but it must be a bit of a faff, what with bus and that. If you want, we could…”

The young girl, Cheryl her little badge said, Cheryl looked across the shop to her friend. “Pippa? Mind the shop for a bit?”

“Yeah?”

“Going for a drive in van. Be twenty minutes, tops”

“Orright”

Cheryl turned back to me. “You give us them wreaths, Mr Barker, I’ll take you round in van. We don’t charge for delivery over a tenner, and you’ve been right loyal here over past couple of years. Least we can do”

She pulled on a nylon rain jacket, cagoules they called them now, and took me out of the back door, carrying two of the wreaths, to a little Escort van, with the shop name on the sides, the front seat scented by old flowers.

“Buckle up, Mr Barker, please. I don’t want any points on me licence just yet. Usual place?”

“Aye, love”

“You always do it twice a year, Mr Barker. That’s what gets us, but only three months apart”

“Aye, well. Traditional dates, like”

“Well, today, I can see that, aye? Valentine’s, and… Valentine’s. But why November?”

It still surprised me that so much seemed to be disappearing. Not through malice, not through ignorance, I felt, but more through the simple fact that apart from the Irish stuff there was nothing to shake the world of the young. I mean, most of them still bought poppies, and there was a vague sort of memory that surfaced one Sunday a year, but I had noticed that the two minutes were being observed less often and far less rigorously.

“Remembrance Day. Love. Lads who did their bit when they had to, and one who still did it even when he didn’t. Have to, that is. Dear friends”

She looked over me when we stopped for a red light. “Were it bad, Mr Barker? War?”

I took a long, slow breath to allow my thoughts to filter my words before they spilled out. “Aye, love. It were right bad. I just hope—no, I just pray that you and your generation, that kids today never have to find out way we did. Aye; bad were one word for it”

She looked a little embarrassed, and then she tried to get her own little speech out. “Mr Barker, happen, well… happen folk should say thank you. Thanks for what you did back then, in trenches”

“Love, that were a different war. I were in tanks”

Burning. Screaming. Teeth white in charcoal faces. “What it is, love, is I’ve got my wife here, and both mams and dads, and that’s why I do Valentine’s, aye? Day to talk about love, day to think of when… think back to when I were courting. And both dads were in First War, that’s the one that had the trenches, and there’s a mate here as well”

A man that loved me. I could admit that now, and it cut me deeply every time the thought arose, because the one thing the empty years of Dobbs and Barker had brought home to me was that I had indeed loved Bob. Not that way, not the way he had felt about me, but in the same way I had loved my own fathers, men who had fought so hard to let me know what they could never let them say out loud. I had been so bloody naïve, so dreadfully blind to what was under my nose. Rodney had seen it, and Matthew, but not Ginge Barker. Taking over from Bernard had forced me to do some very quick growing up, and I just wished that I had been made to do it while Bob had still been with us, still been able to hear me say the words I should have said to him. I was still here while all those who Cheryl really owed her thanks to were lying in ranks and columns of white stones.

Cheryl nudged me. “You were miles away, Mr Barker. We’re here. Want me to wait while you do laying?”

“Thanks, love, but no ta. I’ll be sitting here a while, and you’d best be back to shop”

“Sure you’ll be warm enough? It’s right parky”

“I’ll be fine, love. Ta for the lift”

“OK, then. See you in November?”

“Aye, probably”

I took the wreaths, waved a polite goodbye, and walked slowly into the cemetery, my feet knowing the way. Tricia’s Mam and Dad, Cyril, my second father, they were first. I had a cap on, so it was proper to salute, and I did the same to my own parents. They got a kiss on the headstone where they lay together. I could feel my knees and back creak as I straightened, but my thoughts took me away from that for a while. Dad had tried so hard to be what he had been told men should be, but still he had fought through it, as had Cyril, to say things to me from his heart, to love as a father should be able to. The tears were rising by then, and thankfully it was getting towards sunset, as I made my way to the last pair of graves.

“Hello, Bob. That time again, so I’ve brought fresh flowers for you and my girls. Hello, love, hello Susie. Daddy’s got you some more pretty things. Going to sit here for a while, keep you company, just till it gets dark. Business is doing well, love, and we’ve got a dinner next week, East Riding boys want to do a joint thing in TA hall, dinner and speeches, like. Got to go in best rig, and Rodney and Matthew will be coming up for it, so should be grand night…”

And there was more of the same, till I managed to kneel down by their resting place and leave each with a gentle kiss to the headstone. Sleep well, my loves. Guard them for me, Bob.

Matthew was round for me the next week, Rodney and Ernie smart in blazers and slacks where he outshone them in his Lieutenant Colonel’s Number 2 rig. Ernie was looking old, but then we all were, and there was still a twinkle in his eye to bring a smile to the darkest of days.

“All set, Ginge? Well, when I say Ginge, it should really be Pinky, aye?”

“Cheeky bugger. Not so young yourself, old man!”

Matthew’s laugh had got no quieter over the years, and Rodney just waited them both out. “Where to, Gerald?”

“Territorials drill hall, Rodney. Used to be old North Riding’s place over by Museum Gardens”

“Well, give our liveried servant here the necessary directions and he may await us with the vehicle after we have enjoyed our revelries”

Matthew roared again. “BLOODY landed gentry!”

It was the usual sort of event, and for the life of me I cannot recall what was special about the date, but the four of us were sat at the high table, more glasses and silverware than I had ever seen at one place setting gleaming in front of me. I bent my head over to Ernie.

“Why not best bib for this, pal?”

“Happen it’s not mess rig, is it? All ranks here. And with us in civvies it would have been rude. You’ve been out of touch too long”

“Aye, and head down in boats. Hang on; chief brass is up for his speech”

And the East Riding’s Colonel was indeed on his feet. “Gentlemen! Comrades! We are honoured tonight to welcome four of our own, four of Yorkshire’s finest, as guests. I am not going to embarrass any of them by listing their honours, and will leave the deciphering of ribbon colours as an exercise for our newer and younger brothers in arms, but I will say that the honours in question do include two MCs. These gentlemen served together from the earliest days of the Normandy campaign all the way through to European victory. They fought at Caen, and in the Ardennes counter-offensive, in Market Garden and the Rhine crossing. Two of them stayed with the colours through Korea, and one continued with distinction in such places as Aden.

“Gentlemen, these men are what we should all aspire to emulate in our service. At the times of their country’s need, they stepped forward and answered the call. Please charge your glasses. Gerald Barker, Royal Tanks. Ernest Roberts, also RTR. Major Sir Rodney Lancelot Nolan, Baronet Patrixbourne, their commanding officer through that unpleasantness. And Lieutenant Colonel Sir Matthew St Jon Folland, Royal East Riding and one of our own, as you are all fully aware, or damned well should be. Please be upstanding! Your health, gentlemen!”

There was a roar back from the hall, and then the Colonel turned to face to his right, where the portrait hung.

“Gentlemen! The Queen!”

The meal was excellent, the wine was almost drinkable (Rodney had spoiled me, it seemed) and afterwards, we were passed from hand to hand as fresh young faces and the occasional older NCO quizzed us about what they clearly thought of as our exploits. The booze flowed, and they had gin, and, well, it seemed rude not to, and the kids, for that was what so many of them were, started to blur into a mass of pink cheeks and innocent grins, and just like that I saw Philip, his brains all over a tree while his cock was still dribbling piss, and Harry’s face came back, and Wilf’s, and I suddenly asked myself what the hell was I doing there?

All those kids thought I was some sort of hero, and all the bloody heroes I knew were over the other side of the hall, or buried next to my bloody girls, or in some field outside that fucking airfield, and the gin I had avoided so long had gone straight to my head.

There was yet another kiddy in front of me, proud of his khaki, his bulled boots and his regiment.

“Bit woozy, son. Need some air. Where’s door outside?”

“Just over here, sir. You all right?”

“Just need a bit of air, son. Be fine. And you don’t call a private ‘sir’, aye?”

“Aye, si—Mister Barker. Door’s here”

“I’ll be right, son. Just need a bit air”

I slipped free and found myself walking randomly, and the gin was in my feet and my head, along with flashes, bangs, smoke and screaming. “Bert’s gone”

“GAS GAS GAS!”

“Can’t get the smell out of me boots”

What was I? Why was I still bloody well breathing? A railway bridge…I was just up from the boathouses, nobody about apart from some girl sitting down by Lendal Bridge, just visible in the glow from the streetlights. I walked on, stumbled in truth, and all I could think of was what utter shit they had been saying in that dinner. I had left the real heroes out there. I had failed Bob. I had even killed my own bloody wife.

The shock of hitting the water nearly stopped my heart.

CHAPTER 36
It was cold enough to bring half s shout from my lips, and without any conscious thought my arms were already flailing around for something to hang onto. That brought my mind back, but I was arguing with myself, in panic looking for a handhold to keep my face above the water as my shoes and clothes dragged me down into the murk of the Ouse, and at the same time cursing my lack of forethought in not stepping off a bridge away from the bank, where my cowardice could be ignored and the water take me where I belonged.

I was also, instantly, sober.

My hands struck something, a branch of some bush growing from the steep grass of the bank and trailing its end in the winter-swollen river. My hands made their own decision, locking onto the smooth bark as it bent with my weight and the tug of the current. Let go, hands. Do something right for once in your bloody life and let me go from this one were the words from one half of my mind while the other part, the one that had always controlled my life, gibbered in terror in a corner.

Come on, I told them, come on hands, just do this one thing for me, and I knew that in a little while they would have no choice. As the cold tore into me their grip would fail, sure as death and taxes, and finally, finally… Would they find me in the river, or would my body make it all the way, past Goole, into the Humber, out towards Denmark… I had never been back, never gone to see those places, the men I had failed… Just a little longer and the choice would be taken away from my failings and seized by the river and the cold.

“Give me your hand!”

There was someone there, the glow of distant streetlights picking out a corona of hair, and it was a woman, but that voice was wrong.

“GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING HAND YOU SOD!”

And my hand did let go, my right one, but instead of dropping away, like a traitor it reached for hers and she seized it, her grip strong and true, just as my left hand finally obeyed my pleas. I rolled in the current, and for just an instant my face went under the water, but she wouldn’t let go. The good lord alone knew where she got her strength from, but no matter how I tried to stay limp and slip from her grasp she still managed to keep some sort of contact with the bank and slowly, slowly pulled me onto the edge of the grass. She gained a proper footing, and bit by bit I came out of the water, till she bent down to get her hands under me to ease her position. As her head came near mine, she recoiled.

“You are fucking pissed, you bastard! Why are you out by the river in poxy February if you can’t walk straight?”

I broke at that, finally, but not quite completely, and she started to stammer an apology.

“Look, if, right, if you were, you know, doing… fuck, so was I. There’s only so much crap anyone can take, and my life…”

I was only half-listening up until then, but her words brought me up short. Not only could I not even get my own death right but I had ended up spoiling some stranger’s own exit. Story of my bloody life in one wet pile of misery, and the wind was making it a painful one now. I couldn’t manage to keep my peace, and that word, one I so rarely used, was there unbidden.

“What fucking life? I just wish…I just wish I had the guts to do it properly. Bugger, I’m cold!”

She stood, a tall girl, and pulled me to my feet. “There’s lights in the boat club. Come on, you old bastard, I am freezing”

Dripping filthy water we stumbled to one of the rowing clubs on the river, the unlocked door opening on lights, young men and the smell of some sort of varnish. I caught her eye as we entered, and gave her the very slightest of head shakes, her response a slow blink of her eyes and a muttered “Later” before turning to the oarsmen.

“Need some help here, lads, poor old bugger fell in the river, and. Well, we’re both bloody freezing and…”

One of the young men ran out of the door with a shout of “I’ll give the ambulance a ring!” and two of the others brought blankets, musty from lying in the corner of the boathouse as another poured hot coffee from a Thermos. I hate coffee, but it was indeed hot, and my traitorous hands took it and my mouth worked with my throat, and there was no bloody dignity left as they stripped me of my outer clothes and swaddled me in grimy, prickly warmth. I was watching the girl as well, and she did have tits, that was a brassiere, but there was something very off about her. I almost started to laugh, as I realised where the strength of her grip came from. I had been pulled out of the river by a bloody female impersonator. Could I get any more shame into my life?

The ambulance crew were calm and efficient, and I was strapped to a sort of wheelchair thing, wrapped in cleaner blankets and a silvery space-age thing.

“What’s your name, mate?”

“Gerald. Gerald Barker”

He was so young, and I thought of Philip, dead in those woods for the sake of peeing in private.

“You got the boatyard, down by Acaster?”

“Aye. Dobbs and Barker”

“Thought you’d be better round water, Gerald. Your friend coming with us?”

He was looking uncertain, and I understood immediately, or so I thought. He’d surely want to be off home to get into proper clothes before he got found out. To my surprise, he simply climbed into the back of the ambulance with me. The two medics looked at each other, and without a word they both got into the cab, leaving us together in the back. My rescuer waited for the engine to start, then simply asked “Why, Gerald?”

I could at least try to be polite and pretend I hadn’t spotted what he was. “You wouldn’t understand, lass”

“Susie. Try me”

Susie. My little girl… I just had to ask. “And what was your name?

What a temper he had. ““Darren, but that’s not who I am, not who I was supposed to be, so if it causes you any problems I can get out here and you can piss off on your own, OK?”

All the pieces fell together with a bang, and I remembered all the stories in the papers, all the odd tales of people who were not who they were told they were born as, and it was she, not he and once more I saw old friends, and it was Bob and Harry this time, and poor Minnie Braithwaite on an empty platform at Thirsk station, and by god I knew not just what she was but why she had been there, and what is more understood.

I dropped my eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way”

Her voice was softer now. “Okay, Gerald. As I said, try me”

“Lass… look. See this lot? This is why. These gongs. It were last war, aye? I mean, we call it the last war, but it never were, there’s always another bit of bloody stupidity, but that last war, our war, it were bad”

“Where were you?”

“Europe. I didn’t get involved till the invasion, like. We were a recon—reconnaissance troop. Group of tanks go out front of main body, try and spot Jerry before he spots us. That were our job, and we went ashore two days after landing had started, so it were a bit easier for a while, but then it started, and it was weeks and weeks, lass, and each day a mate went, sometimes more, and you kids….sorry, but please God you never have to be somewhere like that.

“There were more than a few places where it was worse, and the bad thing was that we were the recon troop and so we had to be somewhere with a good view, and one of those was Goodwood and another were Carpiquet”

“Where’s that?”

“Airfield near Caen. Took a lot of lives to secure. Goodwood, though... It were summer, ripe corn, open ground, and Jerry dug in, and the start line were all traffic jams, and then… It’s a clang, and sometimes it’s on the net, the radio, aye? And sometimes it’s close enough to hear, and getting out is so hard, and they’re so quick to burn, the tanks, aye? And the poor bastards trapped in them, and they scream, and they scream, and then it’s charcoal with teeth, and that bloody smell, it never goes away from you, and then Harry couldn’t get the smell out of his boots, and—“

“Slowly, Gerald. Easy, aye? Harry?”

Harry. “We found a place, in Germany. Place called Belsen”

“Fuck”

“Harry… Harry had an accident with pistol on way home after”

I realised how close I was to breaking down in tears, and took a few breaths, but it wasn’t really any good.

“And…and we had a dinner today, a regimental thing, so I got the gongs out, and I sat with the young’uns, and I thought, why am I here, and not Bill, and Ted, and Harry, and Philip, and Wilf, and all the other poor bastards I put in a hole outside that fucking airfield, the boys I heard burning, and I knew it was because I was a coward, and I sat there while they sang my praises, and I thought of the real heroes and felt these on my jacket…and I felt so bloody worthless, aye? Then, I got in the water, and it was so bloody cold, and I was so scared, and that’s me, isn’t it? Too scared to get killed, too cowardly to sort it out”

She sat and simply stared at me, and the more I looked at her, the more I saw the man she had been, and my mind did the same split it had done in the water, and as I saw who she had been I also saw, fully and clearly, who she was, how she had never been allowed to live, and there was Bob smiling from behind her. Decent people, people who cared and loved, shut out from the rest of us because of some pathetic bigotry. Bob had still put his life on the line for all of us; she had come into the water for me. She waited until I looked away again, and then spat out one word.

“Bollocks!”

I looked back up at her, and she repeated it.

“Bollocks. You might not know what you did but if you hadn’t… fuck, I wouldn’t be here, would I? Dear old Adolf didn’t have a soft spot for perverts, did he?”

I have never been particularly religious, but you never really lose it. I still saw Bob in her, the strength was there, and the isolation, but it was the name that held me. It had to be a sign. She was probably around the same age as my little girl would have been, perhaps a few years younger. This was something I felt was meant to be.

“Lass…Susie…look, can we make a deal?”

“Eh?”

“Look, this might sound a bit daft…we used to do a thing called piling, stacking our rifles, aye? Trick is, it needs three, two fall over. Here’s my offer, aye? You and me, we lean on each other”

“You said two fall over”

“They do, but I have mates in Normandy. They’ve been there fifty years. More than enough for a bit of mutual support, aye?”

“What are you asking…offering, Gerald?”

I could feel her suspicion, and I wondered how other men had treated her.

“Ah bugger it, lass, I am far too old for that, so don’t worry. Just a simple thing: we agree to keep an eye on each other, stop us doing owt daft when the days are short and the ghosts are calling”

She stared at the back door of the ambulance for a while before turning back to me, brows furrowed.

“You offer that to me? A tranny, a pervert?”

I nodded. We were just turning into the hospital. “No, to the young lady who just saved my life. Now, what do you think the food will be like at this hospital? Just for the future, it’s white, two sugars, OK?”

I had work to do, now. The spare room would need clearing for a start, and then there was a passport application to complete.

I’ll call by soon, Wilf.

CHAPTER 37
The hospital had that smell they always had, and walls that colour that seemed to suggest the Health Service had bought a paint factory in 1946 and never changed the mix. The ambulance boys wheeled me in, Susie walking beside me in her own collection of blankets, and as they did something to the wheelchair thing that turned it into a sort of bed she reached out and squeezed my hand. There was some conversation between the boys and a nurse that went straight off into initials and numbers, but the girl was efficient. She was a darkie from somewhere in Africa, going by her accent, but she had a nice smile and sorted us both out a cup of tea before ushering Susie out of the bay the crew had left me in.

“Right, Jerry—“

“Gerald or Mister Barker, lass. Never, ever Jerry, if you please”

“I am sorry. Can I ask, is it a problem with the name?”

“Happen Jerry were the one trying to kill me”

I saw her start, and realised I had put my foot in it. “No, lass, not now. Jerry were what we called Germans in war. Not a name I like, you see”

Trying to kill me, indeed, but I must have killed any number of them. What an awful world we’ve made.

“Look, nurse---“

“Mercy. Call me Mercy”

“Mercy. Thank you. As I said, I’m Gerald. Do you know where my friend is, young lady, came in with me?”

“Lady? There was a---“

“A young lady, aye. Tall girl. Name of Susie. Pulled me out of river, like, when I fell in”

There was a little twitch in her face, but she found her smile again. “I’ll see where he is. Now, just going to put this into your ear”

“What for?”

“Taking your temperature, Gerald. Better than the old glass and mercury things”

She did a few more things that I would have expected a doctor to do, and an hour later a real doctor, a young woman, came in to say hello for five minutes to tell me I was basically in good health, but, but, and I would have to stay in for the night just to be sure.

“I’m looking for my friend, Doctor. Tall girl”

Mercy twitched again. “I think he went down to the café, Doctor Sykes”

The doctor sighed. “Could we have a little word, Nurse Adebayo?”

They slipped out through the curtains and while I could hear whispering, some of it quite terse, I couldn’t make out the words. A few seconds later, Doctor Sykes was back. “Did you want to see her, Mr Barker?”

The decision made itself. “Aye, please. Happen she’ll need door key to get in”

“OK, then. Mercy will bring her round to you. Where are your keys?”

“In trouser pocket, or they were before I fell in river”

She dug into the big plastic bag the oarsmen had shoved my clothes into and quickly produced my key ring.

“Ta, Doctor”

“Mr Barker?”

“Aye”

“How well do you know this person?”

“She saved my life, Doctor. That’s all I really need to know”

She came over to my little bed and started a few checks on my eyes with a torch, then sighed. “It’s your call, Mr Barker. You seem to be fully alert now, no impairment, despite what I suspect was a serious attack on a gin bottle. I will go and find her for you”

Ten minutes later, Susie was by my bed, dressed in those blue overall things that surgeons wear. She caught my gaze,

“Well, mine are all soaked for some reason. What do you need?”

I held out the bunch of keys. “I’m in Park Crescent, near race course. Number 16”

“And?”

“I’m staying in here tonight, so you’ll need to get house opened up. There’s a washing machine and drier in scullery by back door. If you can get my trousers out of that bag—ta”

As I had already suspected, all of my new-fangled plastic was ruined, signatures washed away by the river along with the gin that had clouded my mind. “Here, take cash, Susie, cards are u/s”

“What? You ess?”

“Unserviceable. Wrecked. Soaked. Take cash, get some food and get something hot into you. You can pick me up tomorrow with some clean clothes”

“An awful lot of assumptions there, Gerald”

I sighed. “No, lass, just making my mind up to do right thing at right time for second time in my life”

Oh, Tricia, love, how I missed you just then, for that had been the only thing in my life I had ever done right first time, and at right time. Susie saw my tears start, but said nothing, simply wiping them away with the edge of my sheet.

“Till tomorrow, then, Gerald”

I slept a little that night, but not well, for each time I dropped off I would see Philip’s head explode, or watch a German bleeding to death in snow, or hear the AP round strike, Susie was there after breakfast, though, dark circles under her eyes telling of her own lack of sleep despite the clean clothes she had obviously gone home for.

“That settee of yours is a bit short, Gerald”

“You should have used the bed, lass!”

“Didn’t feel right, like, not with… Gerald, she were right pretty. Photo on mantle. I couldn’t just, you know”

“Well, we’ll have to sort out room, get bed in”

“Gerald—“

“Where are you living now?”

“Flat in Knavesmire, not far from you, but…”

“But not a nice one, I’ll wager. Work?”

That one word seemed to be the one that broke her, and I managed to get a hand to hers and somehow pulled her down so I could cuddle her to me as she wept, great tearing sobs that went on for ages, her right hand clenching onto my blankets rather than me, for which I was grateful. I remembered that grip. Eventually, she found her balance again. I looked down at the top of her head.

“That bad? Let me guess. Bit like that bloody nurse, aye? People who can’t see past the outside of stuff?”

A deep, deep sigh. “Aye, stuff is the right word. Or ‘things’, that were the usual word. Things like me. No, they got rid of me at last place, department store. Too many questions from the customers. Moved me to the stock room for a while, but then there were all sorts of shit from the women about the bogs, about perverts and kiddy fiddlers, all that rubbish. They had to let me go, they said”

“Surely there’s laws, lass?”

She looked up and managed a smile. “You keep calling me that, Gerald. Trying to get it set in your mind, make it a habit?”

“Aye, sort of. I’m not that old I can’t be a bit adaptable”

“Aye. Well, no, there aren’t laws, not like that, not for me. If I were a woman, like, then yes, there would be laws”

“And you’re not a woman?”

“Not in law. Birth certificate says boy, and that’s set in stone. Can’t change history, they say. But yes, I am a fucking woman, just can’t get that across to folk, because folk don’t want to bloody well change”

The anger was bringing her back to herself, and she suddenly grabbed a corner of my sheet and blew her nose.

“What? You’re getting up now, pal. Doctor is on her rounds now. I’ve got enough cash for a taxi, and there’s some clean clothes for you in carrier bag. Brought your slippers rather than shoes. Ah, here’s the doc. See you in a minute”

To my surprise, it was the same Doctor Sykes that had been working the night before.

“You still on duty, Doctor?”

I got a very tired lift of an eyebrow, a quick check over and some advice about limiting my swimming to the council pool in future before I was allowed to dress and join Susie in the waiting area. She made a quick call on the dedicated taxi phone, and shortly after that we were in the back of a car and on the way home.

“Do you drive, lass?”

“Got a licence, but never had a car. Not of my own, anyway. Why?”

“What else can you do?”

“Stack shelves is what I did”

“No school certificates?”

“Gerald, I trained as a book keeper, aye? Just wasn’t kept on when I started, well, you know”

She shook her head, anger rising again. “All the unemployables end up in one of two places, Gerald, either catering or retail, that’s what they call it, and the only way to make more than pennies is by tips, and that wasn’t open to me. Me, a waitress? They’d have lost all their custom”

“Aye, but if you’ve got the qualifications—“

A glare. “It’s called prejudice Gerald, or bigotry, or just fucking hatred. They can do what they like to me—I have no rights!”

We turned into my street just then, and she simmered as she paid the driver, who left us with a cheery “Ta, gents!”

She turned to me. “See? Even in a bloody skirt I get it! Oh, sod it, come on. I got some bacon and bread cakes in, we’ll have a snack before I get off”

I laughed, and took the key off her to open what was going to be our front door.

“What’s funny?”

“Oh, Susie, lass, I was always the slow one, had to have nose pushed into something before I could see it. Just makes me laugh to see someone else with same problem. Look, this is simple. Do you know who I am?”

“Gerald Barker. War hero, as far as I am bloody concerned”

I let that one sit unanswered. “No, Susie, do you know what I do?”

“I assumed you were a pensioner”

“No, lass. I have my own business, out by Acaster. Dobbs and Barker, the narrowboat and cruiser place”

“Oh…”

“So no, I don’t live on my pension. Look, I will have to have some sort of reference, for sake of propriety, and, well, just to be sure”

“Are you offering me a job?”

“Oh for god’s sake, aye, and a place to live. You not remember what we said last night?”

There were shadows behind her eyes, and I realised there were demons there. “You’ve had it bad, haven’t you, lass?”

In the end, the furniture shop not only delivered but sent two young men to carry and build the bed in the second bedroom. I ignored their sniggers, and then drove her out to the big supermarket after clearing her tiny, horrible little room of a surprisingly small quantity of possessions, a lot of which seemed to end up in my—our—bathroom cabinet. We had cake with our tea, and I looked over to the mantelpiece as we ate.

Tricia was smiling. I knew I had done something right.

CHAPTER 38
The pistol kicked back in my hand, hurting the web between my thumb and index finger, and the muzzle jerked up and to the left as the man in battledress flew backwards off his feet, so much blood coming from him in a great splash, gaudy on the snow, and someone was on my bed, holding me as I felt half a shout leave me.

“Gerald? Gerald?”

Who? Oh.

“Sorry, lass, must have been bad dream”

I took a couple of deep breaths, sweat cold on my back as I sat upright in our bed, Tricia’s and mine. Susie was in an old pair of pyjamas I had given her for the night; we really had to sort out something of her own.

“Cuppa, Gerald?”

“What time is it?”

“Little after five”

“Might as well be stirring. What I thought were going down to yard and letting you see what needs doing. Get day off to start on right foot”

“You’re avoiding questions, Gerald. How often do you get nights like that, wake up shouting?”

I thought about that one, and it had really only been my lost love and Rodney’s old housekeeper Beattie who had seen. Mam and Dad had never said anything, but I did wonder.

“Oh, lass, I suspect far too many times, but, well, I don’t remember them all, especially if it’s small hours like, and I drop off again”

She just shook her head, and I wondered what she was thinking. Probably something about that little swimming trip we had done. She stood up abruptly, taking my lack of an answer as a yes to tea, and a few minutes later I was sat in one of our armchairs as she handed me a cup and a couple of slices of toast and marmalade. I started to laugh at that one.

“What’s tickling you?”

“Oh, I were just thinking back to war, not just bad stuff, you know. Rationing. Young people today, they hear about rationing and think it all went as soon as shooting stopped, but… and here we are with marmalade and butter and white bread. We had…”

I looked up at Tricia, and she was as happy now as she had been then, smiling from our wedding portrait and the other one I had got with that camera I had liberated from the jerries, that photograph of her on the deck chair at Filey, in the costume I had bought her that she had assured me was ‘indecent’ but had nevertheless worn as often as possible.

“Tricia, my wife like, her mam and dad had bakery, so when we had wedding they made cake, and all families and friends saved up sugar rations and owt else they could spare, and we put it all together for do, and Cyril, that were her dad, like, happen he made a real job of it, and every day after, for snap like, my Tricia would bring me a piece of it, till it went”

I sat for a while with my tea. “Then, it were in Belgium. We had this goose, and there were potatoes in field, so Wilf, he makes this oven, right out of Boy Scouts, and we roast bird, and spuds, and he saves the fat and mixes it with oatcakes and…”

I sat for a little longer, and she reached over to take my hand. “I remember you talking about him, or at least the name. He’s one of…”

“The lads who didn’t come home? Aye. Look. I want to go down yard, give you look at books and stuff, see if you feel you can take job, but, well, thought we could take a bit of a detour beforehand. Something I’d like to show you”

It was still dark at that time of year, and the roads were a little slippery, but my days of playing at being a racing driver had never really existed. I drove the Allegro down to the cemetery, handing Susie a torch as we parked.

“Just to see stones, like. I know way”

We started down the path, the faint glow of dawn barely competing with the orange of the street lights, until we were next to my little group of graves. I nodded hello to both sets of parents before handing Susie the torch as I set about a little tidy-up of the faded flowers and wind-blown litter.

“That’s Bob. He were a right good mate, our tank commander right through. Kept us safe, most of us, almost all of us. He were a very deep man, Bob were. I sort of think of him keeping an eye out, like, for…”

I was having difficulty getting the words out, it seemed. I just waved at the other stone, and she pointed the torch and simply said “Oh” before turning to me;

“That is… that is one hell of a coincidence, Gerald. I hope, you know, I’m not into that mumbo-jumbo stuff, meaningful coincidence, must be fate thingy. It’s a common name”

I shook my head. “No, lass. It were just summat that helped me make up mind. I weren’t in a good way---“

“Hell’s teeth, mate, I pulled you out of Ouse! That’s not just ‘not in a good way’, is it?”

She softened her voice again. “What happened, Gerald? I mean, if you want to tell me? Honest, I’m not as scary as I sound”

She muttered something under her breath, and I am sure it was ‘Or look’, but I left it alone, and started to tell her about that night, but it got harder, and when I got to the bit about her weight against the front door, Tricia’s weight, Tricia’s dying body, I lost a lot of control and couldn’t stop the tears from getting out. She just came over and wrapped both arms around me, whispering how it was no shame for a man to feel such things. She was just like Bob had been, that time when Wilf went, but at the same time so, so different, and that was the moment I finally realised what she was, and that it wasn’t any man holding me but in truth a woman. I knew I had to tell her about Bob as well, for suddenly I felt that it was time to let old ghosts see the light of day, even though the sun hadn’t quite managed to crest the horizon yet. I took a few minutes to find the right words, and Susie just waited patiently, her body warm against mine.

“It were Bob, too, lass. You have to understand, it were a bloody long war. Bob were a regular. He didn’t go through mess in France—“

“Dunkirk?”

“Aye, and Arras and all the rest. Nobody remembers those. No, he were with desert army, 8th Army as was, aye? Desert Rats?”

“I heard of them. El Alamein, wasn’t it?”

“Aye, but that were only a part of it. There were all the fights with the Italians, then backwards and forwards with Rommel, and then it were Tunisia with Von Arnim, and that were nasty, and bloody Sicily and Salerno, then they brought him back home just to pack him off to bloody France. No rest, aye? Not like us, we just trained and trained, waited and waited, and then war’s over, and we’re home, what’s left of us, and he’s off to bloody Korea!”

“What aren’t you saying, Gerald?”

“Oh. Lass, it’s so different now, isn’t it? Look, I had my lass, my Tricia, and that were fine and wonderful, and…”

I took another minute, as she simply waited.

“Look, Bob weren’t into lasses. Simple as that. He were discharged when… when he was a bit too lonely one night”

“Another soldier?”

“Oh, aye. That lad got away, but not Bob, and… Look. I never saw it, but Rodney, Matthew, our officers, aye? Our bloody mates, in the end, comrades, friends, brothers in bloody arms, they saw it”

“Ah. I see”

“Aye. I didn’t, and that were thing, Susie. I couldn’t see it, I couldn’t even imagine it, and no way on Earth I could ever return it, aye? But that were education, Bob and all that stuff. It weren’t like you think, all queer and slaver, all fairy walk and broken wrist handshakes. He were just man, an ordinary man, aye? Just a man…”

I couldn’t say it, not even after so many years, but she could, and I repeated what she’d said, aye, a man in love, and she asked the obvious question, had I loved him? The sun was just looking over the roofline now, and I turned to its orange glow, eyes closed as I found the right things to say.

“Aye, Susie. Aye, I loved him, but not like that. He were just Bob, and no, not ‘just’, he were more than that. I would have died for him, aye? I think, really, all of us in crew would have? That were dream this morning, bad dream. In Belgium. Just say there were someone I thought was about to kill him, and I had this great big pistol, revolver, 45, and so I shot man, looked him in eyes and shot him and it went through his neck and there were all snow everywhere, and blood, red, so much…”

Again, her presence, her warmth, calm and steady. I drew a few breaths, slower each time.

“So, when I had to find somewhere for Tricia and… and my, our little girl, I knew there’d be someone who loved them right by them, someone who could keep them safe. Look…”

Deep, slow breaths. “Enough for now, lass. Let’s get down to yard, let dog see rabbit, like. Co-op’ll be open now, pick up milk and breakfast bits on way. Sausage and egg do?”

As we walked back to my car, she quietly took my hand. The one that had shot the German.

CHAPTER 39
We picked up some breakfast stuff, eggs and sausage, beans and bacon, and a loaf of bread, from the big supermarket the other side of the racecourse. Susie looked amused at the quantity I was loading up.

“Ah, lass, the lads like a good fry-up of a cold morning, and bacon and breadcakes does the trick”

“Breadcakes?”

I indicated the items in question, and she laughed. “Bread rolls! We are going to have to bring you up to date, Gerald. Now, talk me through what you’ve got for books as we drive”

“Oh, nice and simple, lass. Purchase day book, sales day book, wages files, usual”

“Let me take a wild guess: you are talking about pen and paper, aren’t you?”

“Well, aye! Were good enough for old Dobbs…”

She made a snort, and once more muttered under her breath, something about middle ages and Luddites, and then put her hand on my arm.

“Pull over, Gerald. Please. Now”

I found a spot by the pavement, and once I had set the hand brake I turned to look at her, only to find she was quietly weeping.

“What’s up, lass?”

“Oh for god’s sake, it’s everything. Look, you know bloody well know what I was doing down by that river, and you know why”

I made sure I thought through what I had to say, kept the words from my lips till I was sure they were the right ones.

“No, lass, not really. I have ideas, like, guesses I can make, but no. I don’t understand people like you. You are… foreign to me. But I’d like to try. Now, want to talk?”

She sat for a few minutes, fiddling with bag and tissues, then started speaking in a small, quiet voice.

“It’s a new thing, Gerald. A very new thing for me. I’ve spent all of my life locked up, excluded from what I should have been, needed to be. Now, suddenly, for the first time since I set out on transition, I’m seeing further ahead than the next day. I’m seeing a bloody future for once”

“Transition… That’ll be change over, aye?”

“Yup. Messy, difficult business, name change, all sorts of shit, and I’m stuck now because the only place they could offer me was in London. You know, for treatment, diagnosis, that stuff. No way I could do that”

“So what do you need to do?”

“Oh, I have to see some head shrinkers, they decide whether I am what I say I am, and I need a GP here who’d be happy to prescribe hormones, and I will tell you this, my old doctor is a miserable old bigot. Who am I to disagree with what the midwife said?”

I took another moment to think. “Look, let’s get down to Acaster, get in warm, get breakfast going. This is something to sort out at home, over cuppa, aye?”

She nodded sharply, and I put the car back into gear and moved carefully away from the kerb.

The office was empty, still too early for the lads, but Doreen was already in, sorting through the mail from the previous two days.

“Oh, Mr Barker! We heard you’d had an accident! You OK?”

“Fine now, Doreen, thanks to this lass. Fell in Ouse, and she came in and pulled me out”

“Gracious me! What happened?”

“Um, think I had one too many at regimental do, like, slipped off path by boathouses. Susie here came into water, pulled me out. Were bit cold in river”

I could see her trying to get the measure of Susie, her eyes dancing around recognition of another woman while they were clearly telling her another story. I smiled.

“Stroke of luck. I mean, in another way. Turns out lass is a bookkeeper”

Doreen’s eyes widened. “Oh! You mean? We can get this mess sorted out?”

I turned back to Susie. “Old Mr Dobbs wasn’t the most organised when it came to paperwork, and after he passed away we had a terrible job sorting mess out. Doreen’s right handy in office, but she’s never had any training on books, like. Doreen, I’m going to set out breakfast stuff for lads, if you can get kettle on, then two of you settle down and go through what needs doing?”

I sat down at my desk as Doreen passed me the mail, sorted as usual by type: bills payable, bills paid, bookings, etc, and as I settled down to work through them the kettle boiled, tea was brought and as the lads arrived our little kitchen began to fill with the smell of bacon.

“Susie, Trevor, Dean and Jack. They’ll introduce themselves by and by. Lads, new bookkeeper. Play nicely”

The morning seemed to evaporate as I gradually shifted the mail from one side of my little desk to the other. I looked up to see Susie standing in front of me, waiting politely till I looked up. “Aye?”

“Nothing much, Gerald, but there’s one thing you could do straight off to make things easier. Get two of each Day Book”

“Eh?”

“Odd years in one book, even years in another. That way, when books go off to accountant at end of year you’ve still got working book in office”

It was one of those little ideas that are so obvious with hindsight: why can they never be obvious right away?

“Doreen’s had to catch up each year, hasn’t she, Gerald?”

“Afraid so, lass. Doreen: what do you think?”

The older woman (a thought now coming far more easily) smiled. “Should have thought of it myself, Mr Barker. Susie’s right: little thing, but it will save a lot of hard graft. More ideas like that, girl, just let us know!”

Susie laughed, and it was a happy sound. “Oh, I have plenty of ideas! Computer, for one”

Doreen giggled. “Computer? I take back what I just said!”

So the day went, as February’s cold light slowly lifted the heavy dew that had made the roads so slippery. At dinnertime, I took Susie out into the yard. “Give you look at what we do, lass. Those shoes OK on this stuff?”

“Fine, Gerald. Have to admit, I always did like boats. Way of getting away from folk when, you know…”

“Aye, lass. I know. For me, it was working on them. I read some stuff back in Sixties about meditation, rubbish really, I thought at time, then I looked at what I did with engines”

“All laid out, in a pattern? Working through it in order?”

“Aye. Old Mr Dobbs, he taught me that. Take tin for bits, everything laid out in order it comes off. Work seems to do itself when you sort it that way. Look, here’s two sorts of boat we do”

“Canal boat and launch?”

“Narrow boat and cruiser, lass. Some of the narrow boats are ours to hire, but most of them here are servicing and repair jobs. Not many understand a Bolinder the way Dean does”

“That’s a diesel engine?”

“Er, no. Different beast. I’ll show you some time, but they are really simple in what they do, just some folk don’t understand what they can’t do, like. Now, these cruisers, they are where we do a lot of trade. Big companies, holiday companies like, sell packages to people who just want to go up and down river and want something a little easier to steer. Depends, though. You get folk as want to stand up by wheel, think they’re in some flashy yacht or whatever, then there’s those who just want to amble, sit at back with tiller. Mostly folky types, if you take my meaning”

“Arran sweaters and pewter tankards?”

“Absolutely! Better customers, too. Know the value of things, tradition, like. Now, walk with me into village?”

We made our way past the caravan park and the pub to the village centre, where there was a bakery. Susie raised an eyebrow, and I nodded.

“Aye. Dad Cyril sold up for his retirement. They do a good egg and bacon flan”

“Gerald, you had eggs and bacon for breakfast!”

“I remain a man of simple tastes, lass! Afternoon, Mandy! Usual?”

“Afternoon, Mr Barker! We’ve got some pizza slices today as well, Hawaiian. Who’s this with you?”

“This is Susie, new bookkeeper at boatyard. Her first day today”

“Well, go easy on her, then. If you’ve got time, lass, we could do with a bit of a sort out as well”

Susie looked at me, once more her eyebrows raised in query.

“If you fancy it, lass, this is a proper village, once you get past the tourists. We look out for each other, lend a hand. I said I’d give you a job, I didn’t say you had to be tied to me. You serious, Mandy?”

She nodded. “Just be nice if someone were to give us a bit of a clue. What’s your hourly rate, lass?”

Susie started laughing. “Hourly bloody rate? How the hell should I know? Last week I were a shelf-stacker in a warehouse! Which reminds me, Gerald: we do need to sort that one out. I mean, I am sort of, technically, still employed there. Ish”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem”

Mandy laughed at that one. “Mr Barker, here, once he sets his course he doesn’t back down. Now, lass, what’ll you have”

“Oh, tuna sandwich and I’ll try one of those Hawaiian slices, Mandy”

“There you go… ta, Mr Barker. Welcome to Acaster, Susie”

We left the shop, Susie grinning happily, and it was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Acceptance, Gerald, that’s all. I mean, Doreen did give me a funny look at first, but then settled right down. I think it must be having you by me. Look…”

She stopped walking, and gave a deep sigh. “Could I use the phone when we get back? Just tell someone… Just tell my mam I’m all right”

CHAPTER 40
That was the start of a new and very different part of my life, but for some years I didn’t see it that way, more as a life new in every way. It took so long for me to understand that it was all one that I very nearly missed some of the lessons.

Susie quickly became one of the lads, a description that I am sure would have horrified her, but the years of pretending to be one of them had given her insights other women could never match, and her warmth and delight in simply being alive won many over that might have hesitated.

The phone call had been what I have heard the Chinese call ‘interesting’.

“Hiya Mam, it’s Susie”

“No, Mam, we’ve had that conversation and I’m not having it again”

“No, I’m not in trouble. I’ve got a new job, and I’m moving”

“House share, if you must know. And no, it’s a proper job”

“Oh for god’s sake, I’ve been taken on as a bookkeeper, OK? Not a junior, not an assistant. Not an office girl a bloody bookkeeper for a decent company”

“Yes they know. Couldn’t really miss it, could they?”

She took the phone away from her ear at that point, pulling faces and waving her spare hand about. I tried to mime a question: did she want some privacy? She shook her head ‘No’, short, sharp oddly positive movements for the negative. She put the phone back to her ear with a sigh.

“Dobbs and Barker boatyard, Mam. Out at Acaster Malbis. Look, boss is sat by me. It’s his phone, aye? Want a word?”

I frantically shook my head, but she was already passing me the handset. Had to be done, I suppose, but why right then and there? I realised a few seconds later that Susie could only hold the bravado up for a limited time, and this was her chance to recover her balance.

“Hello?”

“To whom am I speaking?”

“Gerald Barker. I’m owner of Dobbs and Barker, boatyard as Susie said”

“Why do you call him that? You know it’s not his real name”

Oh hell. Find some strength, Ginge. “Look, Mrs Lockwood, how can I help? I’m not looking for an argument, but I think I’ve found someone ideal for the job, and I’m going to be blunt. The rest of my staff like her. The locals like her. I like her. I’m setting up PAYE account in the name of Susan Lockwood, or rather Susie and Doreen my other office lady are, because they know what they’re doing. Tax people have no issues with name. I have no issues with name. I want her here, on the dot, each day for work, and I want someone with a smile. Can you help me with that, help your daughter—“

“Son!”

“We’ll differ on that one, but never mind. Can you help your CHILD, then, to rise out of what was a very bad place and make something of…themselves? Yes?”

There was silence at the other end for quite a while, and when she spoke again, there was an edge to it.

“And what exactly is your… interest in my child?”

“Oh, for god’s sake, if that’s your worry, I’m too old for that, and… and she’s met my wife”

I turned to Susie and mimed swimming. Her mouth tightened, and then she nodded.

“Mrs Lockwood, look. I owe Susie my life. I slipped the other night, ended up in Ouse, and it were Susie who pulled me out. Saved my life, aye? “

Another short silence, the sound of her breath catching at the other end of the line. “What was… what were they doing there? My Valium, wasn’t it? Can you put her on? Please?”

‘Her’? I handed over the phone again.

“Hi Mam”

“Oh”

“Yes, I did. I thought… I thought they would make it easier”

“You have no fucking idea---“

“Sorry. Sorry. But you really have no idea how much you have hurt me. No, listen, just this once. If you had been willing to listen, just once—“

“Want me to hang up? I’m trying here!”

She suddenly thrust the handset back at me, walking out of the room with tears starting.

“Hello?”

“Where’s… she gone?”

“Taking breather, I would suppose. How are we going to sort this one out?”

“Do you have children, Mr Barker?”

Knife to the soul. “Didn’t survive, Mrs Lockwood. Her name was Susie”

There was another catch to her breath, so I pushed on. “Mrs Lockwood, can I ask a direct question?”

“Depends on what it is”

“Simple one, really. When was the last time you saw your child”

“Not that long. Time she must have taken pills, I suppose. Why?”

“Did you see the real person, or did they hide?”

“I made sure they didn’t dress up, if that is what you mean”

I understood that one right away. “Happen you mean they did dress up for you? As a sort of man?”

She took a lot longer to answer that one. “I suppose so”

I pushed it home. “Have you actually met her when she’s not trying to hide from you? I think you should. Not today, like. New job and everything. But soon, aye?”

“I… I could, yes”

“Right. Where are you based?”

“Er, I’m out at Tadcaster, by St Joseph’s”

“Not too far, then. Why don’t we see about having us tea together one day? See if you two can’t get start on sorting mess out. What do you think?”

“They were… she were really, you know, with pills, river…?”

“Aye. She were really, with pills and river, but she gave that up to save an old man’s life. I’ll do all I can for her, but it were good if you could meet half-way, like. Oh, I don’t mean have tea in Bilbrough!”

That suggestion of taking a meal halfway between York and Tadcaster actually brought a laugh. I called Susie back in.

“Lass, your Mam and I want to meet up for a tea or something in a week or two. What do you think?”

She was straight to the point. “Not in Taddy!”

“No, I were thinking of somewhere in City, like. Mebbes just Betty’s? Mrs Lockwood, Betty’s do you? What do you say, a week from today? About six? Want another word with Susie? Here she is”

I left the room and started messing around in the kitchen. Pork chops tonight, boiled potatoes, peas, a few sliced carrots. Proper food. I started peeling, and ten minutes later Susie was in the kitchen with me.

“How do you do it? How do you get her to sodding well talk instead of shouting and ranting?”

“Lass, you just realise that she wants something as well, and let her tell you. And recognise she’s frightened of losing something as well, losing her child. Then you just leave some room to twist about in—“

She hugged me, kissed my cheek and yanked the peeler out of my hand. “Carrots are not being boiled to sludge, no salt in that water, and those chops are going under the grill, not into a pan full of lard. You can get kettle on, lad”

The next supermarket run made some real differences to what was in the larder, and I had a short moment of resentment before I made the conscious choice to simply follow her lead in food. I just asked her not to make it too fiery, but she did fruity curries and Chinese fried mixtures, sausage in cheddar-cheese mash, a bacon broth with proper dumplings, live and onions, such a mix of things I only half remembered, so many new flavours. I did get more porridge than bacon for breakfast, though, and thinking back to what we had lived on in France I had no complaints. Susie was making friends steadily at work, Doreen was smiling more often than not and every now and again one of the lads would drop some cakes or sticky buns by the office for the three of us. I could feel how she was drawing me back out, and while she was no Tricia, for that could never happen again, I was finding it easier to laugh than I had for years.

“No, not those shoes”

“What the hell do you know about women’s shoes, Gerald?”

“I know what they look like and what they say. And I know that you need to give your Mam as easy a time as possible this evening”

“What, wash everything off my face, flatten my chest and wear a sports jacket?”

The familiar prickliness was there in plenty. “No, Susie. Just think on: your Mam gets to see you as you are, and that’s a big step. Show her, don’t slap her in the face. Flat shoes. My choice here. The suit’s fine, by the way, looks professional”

“Well, sod you, Gerald Barker, for actually being right for once. I’ll get the shoes”

I checked my own reflection as she ran off upstairs. I’d gone for the Legion look, blazer and slacks, but with neither gongs nor beret, so as to make my own statement. Respectable businessman, not the pervert her mother seemed to have been worried about. Down to the bus stop on Bishopsthorpe Road, and off the bus a little later for the walk across Lendal Bridge. We stopped halfway across, looking down into the shadows and the darkness of the river pushing through the arches of the railway bridge upstream, and then all of a sudden we were both laughing, no words necessary. She took my arm as we carried on towards the Minster before turning off right for the Post Office, Davygate and Betty’s.

A few seconds with a little mirror from her handbag, then I opened the door and ushered her in. I half expected the sound of an AP round screaming past my head just then. Breathe, Gerald.

CHAPTER 41
Susie gave me a little tug on the arm and nodded towards a dumpy woman sitting alone at a table and reading the Daily Express, which said a lot. Susie obviously felt me twitch, caught my look and whispered in my ear.

“She says she gets it for the crossword…”

Of course she did, and not for its broad and tolerant views. I took a little while to remember another time in Betty’s, with Mr Dobbs and both Dads, friends and family who had stood by me even when I had tried to wall them out with the glass and the bottle. I almost felt Bob at my shoulder: wake up and do your job, Ginge.

“Mrs Lockwood?”

She looked up, clearly nervous, her eyes flitting between me and Susie.

“I’m Gerald Barker. Can we sit down?”

She nodded, and I could read her mind: clearly too old to be some sort of pervert or sex maniac. I pulled a chair out for Susie, being a gent, and her Mam’s eyes widened just a bit before I settled myself gratefully into my own seat.

“Have you ordered?”

“Er, no, just had a cuppa while I waited, didn’t know how long you’d be, like”

“Well, we’ve not had tea, so if you don’t mind we’ll have something hot. I were going to have an omelette and some chips, and for once Susie will let me have them”

I looked over to a nervous young woman as her mother’s face moved in an odd manner. “Says she has to get us diet right, less fat, less salt. Well, Jerry couldn’t kill me, and he had a bloody—sorry, a good go at it, so I don’t think a bit of salt will do what Adolf couldn’t”

I realised I was gushing, talking rubbish to fill the empty space. Calm down, lad.

“Right. Mrs Lockwood, this is my bookkeeper Susie Lockwood. I’m Gerald Barker, Dobbs and Barker, like. Gerald”

I held out my hand, and she took it by reflex. “Valerie. Gerald…”

She paused, then in a very quiet voice, and looking at the table, “Susie…”

I looked up. “Ey up, love. I’ll have cheese omelette, chips, and peas if you have them. Oh, and pot of tea. Susie? Valerie?”

Salads, both, and while Valerie had another pot of tea, Susie ordered something with coffee in it. The waitress left us alone, and Valerie gave me a much harder look, showing me something of her daughter’s spirit.

“Why were you in river, Gerald?”

“Straight to point, Valerie. I can see where this lass gets her spirit from”

Another twitch.

“Well, I were at Regimental Dinner that evening, and lads were, well, a bit too free with gin, and, well, lass said it herself, though not in words I would use. Why were I down by river when I’d had a few and, well, aye”

Susie reached under the table and patted my knee. “Aye, Mam, he had a bit of a smell on his breath, I think I sort of commented on it”

I made myself laugh. “Aye, and on how cold water were, besides! Not time of year for swimming”

Valerie just held up her hand, ‘stop’. “Enough. This is not why we’re here. Darren—“

“Mam!”

The older woman sighed, shook her head. “Susie, then. That better?”

My girl just looked at her mother and nodded, saying “Thank you” in the quietest of voices.

“Susie. OK. Fine. Why… why didn’t you talk to me if you felt this bad?”

My turn to calm her down, hand on her forearm as her spikey defences sprang up.

“No, Susie. Shush. Valerie, Mrs Lockwood, not helpful. No, I’m talking this time. Please?”

She looked away, but nodded, and I continued. “Isn’t that why we’re here? Because the two of you didn’t, couldn’t talk? Valerie, happen this young lady were dealt a pretty rubbish hand when she were born. I don’t mean you and her Dad, aye?”

“Her Dad’s gone, ran off to Spain with some whore from the brewery he worked at. That’ll be why… she’s gone like this”

I waved Susie back to silence once more. “Not like that, Valerie, this transsexualism stuff. Lass has given me stuff to read. Not the parents, not at all. Now, think on. We both know what she were doing at river, and if you think a bit you’ll know why, an’ all”

Sometimes there are indeed times when minds can be read, and this was another of those. Valerie’s eyes widened.

“Oh dear Lord, you as well? In river? Why?”

Susie finally spoke, her voice quiet. “Dead mates, Mam. Nightmares. Gerald… Gerald were at one of those places, you know, with the ovens and the gas”

I sighed. “No gas, love. But, well, there were a smell. I…”

Why was I bloody crying, now of all times, of all places to do it? They both fussed over me, and there was one of those moments where Valerie went for some paper hankies from her handbag and saw that Susie was already pulling some out of her own, and there were three of us in tears at that point, the waitress all concern and furrowed brow. It was Valerie who answered.

“Sorry, love, just family stuff, bereavement like. Still a bit, well, raw like. We’ll be fine; just catches up with you now and again”

Are you sure, yes we’re sure, and off she went to return thirty seconds later with our order and rather more paper napkins than was normal. Valerie poured her tea, looking firmly at her cup.

“Happen I were telling no lies then, Gerald. Bereavement, aye? I’ve lost my son, haven’t I?”

I shook my head. “Not quite, Valerie. Shush, lass. Look, you can’t lose what you never had, can you, so this is all gain. Which of you were it that wanted son? Her Dad?”

She actually laughed at that one, and suddenly it was genuine, almost happy. “Aye, men are always the same, aye? Want a lad to kick balls with, take down pub when they’re older, do all the stuff they think they did when they were lads but, well, never really did. Sort of good old days that never were”

Sort of exactly what your favourite newspaper talks about, I thought, but I didn’t put that into words.

“Look, here we all are. Chance to put things right. So both of us, well, we’d had enough, that’s past, that’s over. Time to start sorting mess out, and first thing is saying hello properly to your daughter. She’s got a promise to you. Well, it were a promise to me, but never mind”

Susie snorted. “Mam, it were a promise from both of us, to both of us. Never again. I talked some sense into this old fool, or I think I did. I hope I did. And he showed me another way of looking at world, seeing it’s not so bad, and, well, stuff. Now, eat, and no more about this for now, OK?”

We busied ourselves with the food, which wasn’t bad, and prattled on about how work was at the boatyard, practical jokes by the lads (which I made a mental note to watch out for), general gossip meaningless to most of the world. She wiped her lips once done and then pushed her chair back to stand up.

“Mam, will you come here please?”

Valerie stood up in turn, trembling, and Susie just opened her arms, and we used up most of the paper napkins. They were there a while, the waitress, unbidden, bringing another pot of tea and giving a squeeze to my shoulder and raising her eyebrows.

“Ah, love, happen I think they’ll be fine”

They wound down after a bit, but when they sat down again, chairs were moved so that hands could be held. Valerie was absolutely flat.

“I’ve been a complete cow, haven’t I, love?”

Susie fought back another wave of tears. "No, Mam, you haven’t. Not completely; I mean, you’re here, aren’t you?”

Valerie barked a short laugh. “How did you two get here?”

“Bus, Mam”

“Well, happen I’ve brought the car. Could I, please, could I just see where you work? Make it real for me? I’ll drop you back at Gerald’s after”

I started to laugh at that one. “Checking she’s done ironing and hoovering properly, aye?”

That brought laughter from all of us, and we supped and settled up before starting the drive out to Acaster and the yard. Valerie was silent throughout the drive, apart from responding to my directions, but she was definitely impressed by Susie’s little kingdom.

“You do all of this? But you were just—“

“A shelf-stacker, Mam? Happen I was, but that’s how folk like me get treated. Out of sight, out of mind, out of bloody work when they can get away with it”

“Who’s they?”

“The whole world, feels like. Got all these laws in to protect the coloureds, and real women, but us they can do what they like with”

Valerie’s voice was so gentle at that I nearly fell to crying again.

“You’re not a real woman then, Susie?”

The girl’s face screwed up, mouth twisted, fists clenched as her gaze went all over the office. “Not in their eyes, Mam, not in the bloody law’s. They can do what they fucking well like to me! Sorry. Sorry, Gerald”

She worked her mouth a couple of times. “Thank you, Mam. Thank you, if you meant what I hope you did”

Valerie stepped forward once more to hold her daughter, this time as if she would never let her go.

“Come on, love. Time to get you home. That’s what Gerald’s place is now, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mam”

“Well, doesn’t stop other place being home as well. I’ve been stupid. Stops today. Will I be… will I be welcome at your home?”

There was nothing else for it, and I sealed the compact with my own hug.

CHAPTER 42
Once more I found a new world opening to me, or rather a reminder of how things used to be. Like her choice of newspaper, Valerie was wedded to the past, or at least some aspects of it, even though it seemed we had broken her away from her convictions about her child. That meant tradition, observance of How Things Are Done Properly. It meant Sunday dinners, for one.

I don’t mean every Sunday, because as the weather loosened its grip on the river the flavour of the tourists changed. We saw more of the longer-term holidaymakers rather than day-trippers and those on weekend breaks, and though we had a steady income from day-hire of launches and jolly-boats, as Susie called them, it was the narrowboat and cabin cruiser trade that kept us, well, afloat. Old man Dobbs had had a good head for business, and he had designed his own version of package holidays in conjunction with some other boatyards and marinas. The problem with any form of touring holiday rental is what to do with your car, boat or bicycle when you get to the end, because not all tours can be a closed loop. He’d found businesses he trusted, and we took in their craft when they arrived at Acaster, ready to supply them to someone wanting to do the return trip, and a week or so after one of our boats left it would be back with a different crew.

We soon got to know which of the yards weren’t quite as conscientious as my lads, but the steady earnings outweighed the odd stripped nut or scrape in the brightwork. One thing Susie did introduce, along with the computer, was a much simpler scheme for listing the equipment issued with each craft. Her ‘information technology’, as she called it, also helped when someone cancelled last minute, which meant less time that each boat sat empty. All in all, it seemed that when I ‘fell’ in the river, I landed on my feet.

We were at our own house one Sunday in late May, and it did indeed feel ‘ours’. It seemed that once Susie set her mind on doing something, it got done, and this particular item was a beef joint with what she declared would be all the trimmings. That was when the conflict started with her mother.

“I like my food cooked!”

“Overcooked!”

“Properly cooked!”

“Boiled to sludge! Gerald, help!”

I laughed out loud as the thought struck me: two women, one kitchen. Another thought came in convoy: yes, two women indeed. The more Susie was able to relax, the more comfortable she became, the more natural her behaviour. I realised she had almost stopped wearing high-heeled shoes for one thing, no longer seeming to feel a need to wave a big sign declaring her femininity. I looked in the kitchen door, and saw the vegetables ready cut, the batter mixed. There was no way I was going to step between them in an argument, so I settled for distraction.

“You serving the pudding with the meat, Susie?”

She turned from her mother with a puzzled look. “Whys shouldn’t I? It’s part of the trimmings, after all”

“Ah lass, but weren’t always like that. Times we’d have it as a proper pud, what you’d call a dessert, like, and times it were before main dish. When we didn’t have much for main dish, aye? Filled us up before we got to little bit of meat there were, rabbit, or spam usually. Happen we even did spam toads”

Valerie’s mouth was curling down. “Please tell me you don’t mean…”

“Aye. When there were no sausages, Mam would do batter mix with powdered eggs, and spam instead of sausages, and…”

Suddenly, I had to sit down, the girls fussing round me, a cup of tea quickly beside me. Susie knelt by my chair.

“You OK? What brought that on?”

I shook my head. “I’ll be right, lass. Just one of those little memories that sneaks up on you now and again. Were a friend of mine, lad named Wilf…”

A goose, a biscuit tin, oatcakes and goose fat. Wilf grinning and delivering true magic, not reduced to bits of human debris sprayed into the sole of my boot. I took a slow breath.

“Wilf is one of the lads who didn’t, you know, come home. Just, he were right clever with cooking, a proper scrounger and bodger. He managed to do us a couple of roast dinners around Christmas in ’44, when he were in Belgium”

I was going to say more, but the doorbell went just then, followed by the clatter of the knocker, and Susie trotted off to answer it. I could hear the voice from the back room, as loud and direct as ever, before Matthew strode in, still holding the fitness the rest of us seemed to have lost so easily.

“Gerald! Sorry to intrude, old boy, but I bring news!”

He looked slightly puzzled by the presence of two women, but as ever he remained a gentleman.

“Matthew? This is Susie Lockwood, my bookkeeper and companion, and her mother Valerie. Ladies, Major Matthew Folland, an old comrade”

“And friend, dear boy. Always friends, what?”

I raised an eyebrow to Susie, who just grinned. “Sod it, saves eating leftover roast tomorrow! You eaten, Major?”

“Matthew, dear lady, and no. I have only just arrived. Gerald, may I assume no issues with parking in this area?”

“None at all, Matthew. And it’s roast beef; what it comes with will depend on which of the girls wins the argument about how well done it should all be”

“Jolly good, though I do have rather a penchant for the blue”

I realised I had grunted when he replied “Shave it, show it the oven from afar, slice and serve, dear boy!”

The laughter, like the voice, was still there. “Oh yes; I did not come empty-handed, but bear gifts. A case of red Burgundy, to be precise. Shall we?”

Susie let him out as her mother rearranged the table for another setting, and eventually we settled down to a meal that showed excellent problem-solving techniques. Susie had simply cooked her own vegetables separately. Roast potatoes, mashed swede, sliced carrots, rea onion gravy made by her mother, the puds, Brussels, and all topped off with a little gravy boat of horseradish sauce. Bread and butter pudding with custard finished it off, and throughout the meal Matthew spread charm and laughter around the table. Valerie brought in a pot of tea for us afterwards, with a posh coffee filter thing for Susie, and as we sipped, Matthew asked the question. I sighed.

“Well, Susie here were having problems with getting a decent job, like, and I needed bookkeeper, and she’s very good at it, and, well”

“That does not answer my question, Trooper Barker”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t. Happen she actually saved my life. Were after that dinner in February, aye? Had a few gins, fell in Ouse, she pulled me out”

He looked into his tea for a moment. “You were not that inebriated when I left you, dear boy”

I realised he needed no further answer, and he turned a very appraising eye on Susie before making the slightest of nods and then beaming round the room.

“It seems that Gerald here continues to find diamonds of friendship hidden in the dross of daily life. Now, to business… Gerald, I must speak to you of Rodney”

He had just been laughing; it couldn’t be anything bad. Please.

“What…?”

Matthew gave a sigh and a shrug. “Not entirely wonderful, but to be expected, dear boy. Rodney has had a minor stroke. Nothing too catastrophic, just a little hint for him to reduce his intake of the grape and the grain, and take some earlier nights than he has been wont to do. No, it is really just what I believe those in trade refer to as ‘wear and tear’. What it has done is to remind both of us of our mortality, and its impending conclusion. Old ghosts must be laid, Gerald”

Susie coughed politely. “Matthew, Gerald spoke of this when we… when we first met. If what you are suggesting is what I think it is, then yes. Gerald, love, you must go. You are talking about France, Matthew, aren’t you?”

He nodded sharply. “Yes, dear lady, and Belgium. We have other memories relating to that other country”

I shook my head. “No, Matthew. Not so. Happen that would be best place to remember Harry. When were you thinking?”

“Ah, Gerald, that was why I felt the need to call by in person. It would ideally be as soon as possible, and I would assume that the height of Summer would not be the best for you. My man Marriner has found a suitable vehicle, and I have already spoken to dear Ernest. My thoughts are to take the ferry from Portsmouth, as that arrives at almost the very spot you did in ’44, and then continue through Picardy to Flanders. Ladies, this may not be an ideal trip for you, but you would be most welcome. Gerald, do you have a passport?”

“Er, happen I haven’t, but I can get one”

Susie just dipped her head, eyes on her cup. “I can’t”

CHAPTER 43
Matthew raised an eyebrow at that, and once more his tact ran true to form.

“I will assume that your status is at issue, dear lady. May I ask about your name?”

“Eh? Oh! Statutory declaration”

“So for all purposes it is your name, even for a passport?”

“Yeah, but they’d still put ‘male’ on the bloody thing!”

“I see. I rather suspect there is precedent, though. A brother officer, you know, a donkey-walloper as Gerald here would have said, followed their own star a few years ago. A travel writer, yes?”

Susie was nodding. “I have her book! Jan Morris, isn’t it?”

Matthew barked one of his delighted laughs. “I rather think that La Morris has a great deal more than one book, my girl!”

Susie was almost giggling at his performance. “You know what I mean! Her life thing, autobiography, that’s the word”

“Indeed! Now, my point is a simple one: if someone is a travel writer it rather presupposes that they actually indulge in the pastime of travel, does it not? And such would require the possession of a passport, and while the good lady writer will not be the only person in such a situation to travel, there must be many, many other ladies of such distinction who visit parts that are foreign. Tell me, what does your doctor say?”

Susie shook her head and sighed. “Not a very helpful man. Happen I can’t go against nature, can’t change history, et cetera et bloody cetera”

“Hmmm. Gerald, may I beg the use of your telephone?”

I had a new one, where there was no cable to get in way, just a little thing like a transistor aerial to pull out. I got it from the hallway and handed it to Matthew, who tapped in a number from a small card.

“Julian? Dear boy! Sorry to disturb you on the Lord’s Day, but I would be grateful for some assistance in a delicate matter.

“No, not precisely that sort of delicacy, though it does concern a young lady.

“Julian, dear boy, you are an incorrigible cad and bounder!”

He looked at Susie for a sign of agreement, and she gave him one of her sharp nods after the slightest of pauses.

“A tale indeed, Julian, but in short I am sitting with the young lady in question after a delightful and entirely traditional Sunday lunch—Valerie, dear lady, hat is not the sort of comment that is helpful—and we have a slight dilemma. Young Susie has been an absolute life-saver---no, Valerie is Susie’s mother. Pay attention, dear boy! Susie performed a rescue when my other dear friend Gerald fell into a river in the month of February, which is a remarkably silly time to go bathing au naturel

“No, dear boy, he was clothed! Now, the crux of this affair is that the young lady in question did not precisely commence her time on this world in that way… yes. Yes indeed. Well may you ask! You are aware of poor Rodney’s slight descent from the heights of Olympian health? Good oh! Well, we wish to revisit old haunts…”

He looked once more at Susie for permission, and once more she nodded.

“Yes. Yes. We wish to travel abroad and that raises difficulties for one of our party.

“Indeed she has, but he is an antediluvian old fossil by her account, which I am rather prepared to accept. Yes? Wait one, please, dear boy”

He lowered the phone and looked around the table. “Before I continue, my dear friends, I should explain. Julian Hemmings is a former comrade; indeed, ‘rob all my comrades’ was his appellation”

I laughed out loud, actually surprising myself. “Happen it’s for RAMC, Royal Army Medical Corps. Right, Matthew?”

“Indeed, dear boy. Julian was our MO through our slight differences with the Boche. He has a practice in London now. Harley Street, actually”

He put the phone back to his ear. “Julian? Yes, could you be so kind? Young Susie has…”

Matthew made nothing more than a few small grunts of agreement and comment for almost five minutes.

“Delighted, dear boy! Please be patient while I explain matters to my friends! Gerald, ladies, it does appear that there is actually a process by which a passport can be amended. It requires a statement from the subject’s doctor that they are indefinitely going to be playing for the distaff side”

Susie looked very confused by that, so I asked the obvious question, and he smiled in a gentle way.

“If what is referred to these days as her GP writes a letter confirming that they are living as a female, and will continue to do so in their opinion, a passport may be issued bearing a suitable description”

Susie was shaking her head. “No way that would ever happen, miserable old bastard like him!”

Another bark from Matthew. “No, my dear! Julian has offered his services! Oh, and before you begin to examine the contents of your purse, or lack of them, Julian is a friend and is willing to work pro bono. Gerald, may I assume you would travel to the Great Wen with our girl here?”

I thought quickly. Get one of the lads to cover, with Doreen’s help; still not the busiest period for us.

“Aye. Aye! Let’s do this, lass. Matthew. Aye!”

Once more, the phone rose. “Absolutely, Julian! Will you speak to Charles for us? Good oh! Please pass my warmest to Cynthia. We shall compare diaries. Till then, dear boy—oh. Nearly forgot! Red or white? Or--- Yes, brut of course. We shall speak soon”

He folded up the little aerial and set the telephone handset to one side of his plate.

“My dear friends, Julian is a specialist in the medical sense, of the type of which Mr Lehrer once spoke, a specialist in the diseases of the wealthy. His brother Charles also works with the deserving rich, aiding them to alleviate their feelings of guilt. He is a consulting trick cyclist. Dear Susie, Julian is willing to add you to his list of patients, and believes that Charles would be delighted to investigate such an unusual condition”

She was a little fiercer at that word. “We aren’t so unusual, Matthew! Just kept out of sight, mostly, or bloody well killed in a lot of places”

“Yes indeed, dear lady. Yes indeed. We did witness a certain level of intolerance for the uncommon some years ago. Now, Gerald, would you be inclined to honour my small place in town with your presence? Rodney’s pile is rather far out, whereas I am in Hampstead”

For the first time, Valerie spoke up. “Matthew, have I got this right? There’s stuff you haven’t said out loud yet. You’ve got a mate who happens to be a doctor, who’ll take on our girl here---“

Susie sat up at that. Valerie saw, and just nodded at her, then gave her a slow smile before turning back to Matthew.

“As I were saying, who’ll take on my Susie and do necessary for her passport? And he has a brother who’ll do head shrinking thing she were talking of, and all for a bit of fizzy wine? Aye, I might not drink champagne, but I know what ‘brut’ means. All this as a favour?”

It was as if a plug had been pulled on my old friend, and for the first time ever I saw him as the old man he really was, just as I was, fading towards an exit from the world.

“Gerald, dear boy, how much have you told these ladies about our experiences in ’45?”

The specific year told me what he meant, and I shook my head. “I mentioned that place a bit to Susie, but only, well, a little bit to Valerie”

That latter nodded. “Place you said didn’t have the gas, wasn’t it? Just the smell?”

Matthew sighed, and there were memories there, memories I shared, sights and smells that had killed Harry.

“Rodney told his men one particular thing, ladies, and that was not to feed people as it would in all likelihood kill them. As our MO, Julian was one of those who sought to find methods of aiding the recovery of human beings who were almost beyond such a thing. In a way, he considers himself to blame for those deaths he could not prevent, the deaths from overfeeding, from misplaced kindness. Yes, he will see Susie as a courtesy to myself, but he will treat her as part of his atonement for his own sins, and Charles is part of that process”

I nodded, understanding all that he meant, but Valerie’s mouth was working, trying to shape words she couldn’t get out. They came in a rush.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you people? All you did over there, all you suffered, all those lads you lost, and you feel bloody well GUILTY?”

She sat for a moment or two, looking backwards and forwards between us as Matthew and I avoided her gaze, then yet again there was a sigh.

“Gents, would it be all right for me to come down with my daughter here and make sure she is safe and sound, like, and to help with the doctor? I mean, he might want a bit from a parent’s point of view, I’d be thinking. Susie, I ask you: guilty! What is it with bloody men’s thinking?”

My girl reached out for her mother’s hand. “How would I know, Mam?”

CHAPTER 44
In deference to both our numbers and to the age that had made itself so evident, we eventually travelled down by train. York station was being cleaned up, but it was still draughty, and I was glad to find our seats on the shiny new train. So very different from those journeys in my youth and to be honest I realised that the destination this time was of a very different kind.

Susie was bubbling away, and I had spent the whole morning arguing her out of wearing stupid shoes. In the end, it was Valerie who played the trump card, promising her a trip to some shop or other I had never heard of, and I had a short moment of utter wretchedness. That was the sort of shop I would have visited with my own Tricia, perhaps even my own...

No, Gerald. Not now. This was a day for smiles and hope.

We rattled down through Doncaster and Peterborough, Susie glued to the window, showing how little time she had actually spent anywhere other than York, and Valerie “treated” us to a cup of what was called tea but was in reality a rubbish tea bag on an odd foil hook, resting in a paper cup of tepid water. I shuddered at the price, and grimaced at the taste, but said nothing.

London seemed to go on forever, mile after mile of brick and concrete, so much of it covered in stupid scribbles of paint, and we kept stopping, starting again, stopping, starting, only to stop again, and then all of a sudden we were under a roof and the train was alongside a platform that seemed to go on forever. Valerie helped me with my luggage without being asked, which I found slightly insulting, but I stepped down from the train, settled my cap, and tried to take it all in.

It was so long ago that I had last been here, bicycle and all, and apart from it being even dirtier than I remembered, there was little change visible until we reached the end of the platform and a cursory ticket inspection. The ticket hall, Susie called it a concourse, was heaving, but Matthew was there with a smile and a hand, along with Rodney.

Old. Old and worn, a stick to support him, but then a smile, only slightly off kilter, and I really suspect it was Susie’s influence, but I could do no less than step forward to hug him. He whispered softly “Welcome, Ginge, be most welcome” before releasing me to shake hands with the ladies. He stood up almost as straight as I remembered.

“Dear ladies! Gerald here did not inform us he was bringing his friend’s sister as well!”

Valerie blushed, Matthew roared, and I just smiled. My friend was still with us after all.

Matthew led us out of the station, and it was disgusting. There were drunks everywhere, most of them tramps by the look of them, and a long line of men leaning against the wall on the other side of a complicated pedestrian crossing. Every now and then some passer-by would slip them something, or get something from one of them, and often there would be a quick hand-to-mouth movement. Matthew caught my stare.

“As observant as ever, dear boy? Drug dealers. Many of them secrete their purchases in their mouths, in case the constabulary decide to feel a collar”

“But it’s so open!”

“Welcome to the Metropolis, dear boy. Now… Yes!”

One of the black taxis pulled up to the kerb, yellow sign switching off, as we piled in to a remarkably spacious cabin.

“Highgate, my man!”

“Where, guv?”

“The High Street, by the Duke’s Head. I will direct you from there”

Matthew turned back to us. “Rodney keeps a small pied-a-terre in Highgate, nothing too grand, for when he is in town. Rather closer than Patrixbourne, don’t you know”

That man laughed gently. “And a rather easier journey for you than that one with the bicycle, Gerald?”

“Aye, I will give you that one! Fair terrified me, that did. Happen I were right lucky running into that copper in Canterbury”

“Sadly departed, dear boy, like so many of our generation. Now, do tell me about these charming ladies you have brought with you, but only in the most salacious detail, if you please”

The ladies in question were giggling happily at the attention. Valerie put a hand to my arm, sat as we were on the bench seat. “He always like this?”

“Well…” I managed, before being interrupted by Matthew.

“Dear ladies, Rodney is indeed habitually jocund, but it was not always thus. Young Gerald here---“

“Young?”

“Dear boy, I have at least two years on you. As I was saying before callow youth found it necessary to interrupt—“

“You interrupted me!”

“Privilege of seniority, dear boy! Rodney is with us largely because of this man here, this comrade, this…”

He hesitated, and I caught something in his eyes. “This brother. I can call him no less. My brother here astonishes me in his ability to see so much darkness and yet not to expect it. Life has repeatedly dealt him the very worst of hands, and yet he plays them with hope and, yes, with love. Each time Rodney or I have found our spirits failing, it is dear Gerald who has brought us something to make us raise our eyes from the mire and see that there is hope in the world, offer us an opportunity to improve it. Rather like his tie, no?”

Susie looked at my collar. “Eh?”

I nodded to Matthew. “Mud and blood, aye?”

“Indeed, dear boy. Ladies, the three colours of the tie are said to represent the aims of the original force: through the mud and the blood to the green fields beyond. That is Gerald’s gift, the ability, always, to see those green fields, to strive to reach a better place. In doing so, he has never ceased to remind us of Pandora’s gift. Without his spirit, who knows?”

I muttered under my breath something about a river in February, and Rodney put his hand on my knee. “Matthew has appraised me of that, Gerald, but look at where you now are: you found someone to heal, no? You put all else to one side for the sake of a soul in need. Could Matthew and I do any less?”

I couldn’t reply to that, and left Matthew to give his final instructions to the cabby, who deposited us outside a high wall and solid-looking gates. Rodney did something with a little box, and the gates opened onto a sort of courtyard in front of a terraced house that bore little relationship to those back in York. A young girl opened the front door and bobbed a curtsey.

“Afternoon, Shelley. This is Mr Barker, Mrs Lockwood and Miss Lockwood. Major Folland you know. They will be staying with us for a few days; please be so good as to ask Henry to deliver their baggage to the guest rooms, and we will take tea on the patio”

“Yes, sir. Will you be dining this evening?”

“I rather fancy we may visit the Chanticleer. Breakfast will be at nine, but until then, we shall not require your services”

“Thank you sir. May I?”

“Oh. Of course!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, do you have any specific requirements for breakfast? Vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free?”

Matthew spotted my confusion. “Rodney keeps a modern establishment, dear boy! Young lady, from observation I believe that we are all irredeemably carnivorous. A traditional spread will be more than welcome”

“Thank you, Colonel”

My room was not the largest, but there was enough space and a view out to some wide expanse of greenery. The place we took our evening meal in was a surprise, though, all the waiters trying to make us think they were French, which a lot of them clearly were not. The food was good, and I did my best to ignore the prices. Susie succeeded at that, but not her mother, and eventually I had to laugh out loud.

“Valerie Lockwood, anyone would think you were from Yorkshire!”

She grinned sheepishly, but there was a little flicker when a waiter poured us some more drinks and she heard the word “ladies”. I reached forward to take her hand, and whispered “You’re doing well, love. I know it’s hard, but you’re doing right thing”

Her grip tightened on mine, just for a second, and then she found a smile.

“Aye. Happen your pal there is right, Gerald. You do see it clearly, don’t you? Me, I had to be dragged in kicking and screaming, but, well, I watch her now, like, and I just ask myself why I had to be so thick. I nearly lost my child through stupidity, but, well, tomorrow, that doctor, what am I going to do?”

Matthew leant across. “Exactly what you are doing now, dear lady. Acting for the best for your child, acting out of love. Chin chin!”

Valerie ducked her head, but there was still doubt there. The next morning she remained subdued, but the breakfast went down well. I wondered if her Yorkshire soul was determined to avoid waste despite her obvious lack of sleep. Tea was drunk, bacon, cereal and toast disposed of, and then ‘Henry’ drove us through horrible traffic right to the centre of everything. There were long lines of tall brick terraces, the ground floors faced with white stone, all with steps down to cellars guarded with black railings. Matthew led us to one door, a brass plate to its right, and turned to look at both women.

“Well?”

Just that word, but so much carried by it. Valerie turned to look at Susie.

“Are you sure, love? Are you sure this is the right thing?”

Susie stepped forward to hold her mother. “Yes, Mam. Never, ever more sure, not of anything”

She bent forward and kissed her mother gently on the forehead, and Valerie reached up to stroke Susie’s cheek with the back of her right hand.

“Then let’s get it done, love”

CHAPTER 45
The receptionist pleased me, because she wasn’t some dolly-bird but a woman in early middle age, with a little computer screen on her desk and a ready smile.

“Yes? How can I help?”

Valerie stepped past me. “Susie Lockwood to see Dr Hemmings”

“Oh yes. Please take a seat; Dr Hemmings is in consultation at the moment, but I have updated his agenda”

Susie must have caught something in my expression, and whispered “Computer, Gerald. There’ll be a screen or something in the doctor’s room, and a hot key to---you are glazing over! Look, let’s just say that she just has to push a button and it tells him we’re here, OK?”

There were very good reasons I left all that electronic stuff to her. The door opened after only ten minutes, and I realised, as nobody emerged apart from what was clearly Doctor Hemmings, that there must be a back way out. That impressed me, for it spoke about an ability to keep a confidence, a desire to protect the privacy of a client, and that was surely important for people like Susie.

Men and women like Susie. Women like Susie.

The doctor strode forward, hand out to Matthew, and in a gentler way he took Rodney’s hand before looking at me with a twinkle.

“Now, I do believe I actually recall this young chap from the recent unpleasantness. Red hair, not so?”

The usual howl from Matthew. “Just so, dear boy! Julian Hemmings, Gerald ‘Ginge’ Barker!”

He took my hand then, and something moved behind his eyes. “A true pleasure to see another comrade still upright after all these years. Now, I do believe you are not my concern here, my friend. Shall we all decamp to my consulting rooms?”

I didn’t quite know what to expect, but I wasn’t disappointed. A smaller room to one side held the usual examination bed, but the main room was equipped with armchairs of a particularly expensive-looking kind, as well as a desk with one of those computer screens on it. Susie had obviously been right.

“Good-oh. Be seated, all. Now… I will take some general information at first, but then I will ask most of you to depart. Emily will provide refreshments, but first, young lady, how comfortable are you speaking to me in a crowd?”

Susie looked round at each of us in turn, gave a little smile and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts of cobwebs.

“Doctor Hemmings, I have only known Matthew and Rodney a short time, but I see them with Gerald here, and well, happen this is family, if you take my meaning. Mam, obviously, but Gerald here is a lifesaver, and these two gentle men—aye, that’s how I meant it. Men, and gentle. No, no problems with family being here”

“Charmingly put, my dear. I shall require their absence at some point, for I shall need to examine you. Until that point…?”

Susie nodded, and he began.

“Young lady, and with no prejudice, I can see how new that is. Matthew has given me some background, so pray complete the picture for me”

Her mother reached for her hand, and Susie gave her a flash of a smile.

“I were christened Darren, but that were never me. I knew it was wrong, right from early years. I mean, I don’t mean I were that clear about it, it were just that I never felt right in my skin. Took a while to get it straight in my head, and then…”

She looked at her mother for encouragement and answers.

“Mam, remember when I were getting bashed all the time at school? They all said I were a puff?”

Valerie nodded. “You were in a real state some afternoons. Doctor? I wanted police called, but her Dad, like, just said he needed to grow up, be a man, like, fight back”

The doctor sighed. “Not the most useful of advice, my dear. And where is he now?”

“Good riddance to bad rubbish, years since, Doctor.”

“Young lady? Pray continue”

“Aye. It were one day, Ronny Taylor were having a go, him and his crowd, and he said something about being a big girl and, well, thought were just THERE, and I knew, like a flash bulb going off, that was what it was messing me up, and I looked past him, and there were girls and I realised it weren’t just GIRLS it were OTHER girls, and that were a mistake, for I stopped looking at Ronny so I couldn’t duck the punch”

Taylor, I thought, wondering if it was the same family. Seemed likely, given the behaviour.

“Susie, what were little bastard’s dad called?”

“Ben, I think. That were name of his big brother as well. Ronny’s brother, not his dad”

Matthew gave me a very sharp look. “Dear lady, I rather suspect Gerald here left the boy’s grandfather in some severe discomfort a little while ago. What a very small world we inhabit. Beg pardon, Julian”

“Not at all, dear boy. Now, my dear, following your revelation, did you act upon it? I should explain that there are a number of stages to the process we are embarking upon, and much of this discussion will be proper to Charles, but I must have a basis to work from”

Susie carried on with her story, and I found myself watching Valerie rather than her daughter as admissions emerged of dressing up in items borrowed from Valerie’s own wardrobe.

“So I got through college, got my certificates and everything, and then, well, I got job in furniture shop, still as Darren, aye? And I moved out, got my own room in city, and I thought, far enough from Mam, aye? And… and I had a friend, she were married but not that way, so she could get Pill on NHS…”

She dig out a hanky. “Soon as I changed my name, Mam blew her top. No, that’s how it was, Mam, and soon as I put on first skirt bastard landlord slung me out, and then furniture shop boss told me to fu—sacked me. I ended up at shop counter”

Valerie was crying now, openly, and Susie handed her a pack of tissues just before the doctor produced a box of full-size ones. My girl gave her mother another little smile.

“Took up with lass for a while, girl on the other bus, like”

Dr Hemmings made a little note. “A lesbian?”

“Aye. Carol were her name, and, well…”

She sat staring into the distance for a few seconds. “That didn’t work out. Didn’t end well. Then boss at new place got the hump, too many people reading me, like. Went from shop front to back office to shelf bloody stacking, that or dole, and… And I went home, and Mam had big problems with it all, and I grabbed her pills and ran off”

“Contraceptive pills?”

“No, Doctor. Valium. She were on them for a while when Dad, well, I knew where she kept them. And I got myself up as nicely as I could, and….”

She started sobbing then, and Valerie held her as the doctor went out for a few minutes, returning with a tray of tea. I was certain I had seen him wipe an eye as he left us/ Susie composed herself over her cup as the doctor waited quietly. Finally, he simple indicated the rest of us. Susie smiled.

“Family, doctor. Family. Anyway, where was I? Oh aye. I’d been to my own GP, like, and he were no help at all, looked at me as if I were something you’d flush down toilet, but he still says to me, nothing for people like me in City, and by ‘people’ he obviously meant another word, like ‘perverts’ or vermin or---”

“Slowly, now. I am not that doctor”

“Sorry. Anyway, all he could offer, if you can call it an offer, were to go down to London, and that were impossible, and, and then it were around Valentine’s, and with Carol, and, well… So as I said, I did myself up as nice as I could, best shoes, aye? And I went to nicest place I could think of, by Lendal Bridge, if you know it?”

“I am aware of it, yes. May I ask once more: do you wish to continue in private?”

“No thank you, Doctor. Anyway, by river, obvious what I were planning. Take as many of the little pills as I could stomach, get into water, well, stop pain”

“And what held you back?”

Susie looked at me for permission, and I nodded it back to her.

“It were Gerald here. He went into the water before me, and, well, we rode in ambulance together, and we had a bit of a chat and… Gerald, love, do you remember bit about rifles?

That brought my own smile back. “Good memory, lass. Doctor, I said about stacking rifles, how you need at least three otherwise they fall over. That were idea, that we would be there for each other”

“Are you there for her then, dear boy?”

Susie’s smile answered that question, and the Doctor nodded in satisfaction.

“I will assume therefore that suicidal ideation is no longer present. Ahem: that you see a life ahead of you, am I correct?”

“Absolutely. That’s what these men have done for me, Doctor. A future. It’s there, now”

“Fine. That is one major worry removed. Now, are you still self-medicating with contraceptives, and if so, have you brought me a sample? Good—thank you”

He glanced briefly at the blister pack she handed him and made a note.

“Might I ask that the others depart? I wish to make a physical examination, and it will of necessity be rather thorough. Oh, and I have asked Charles to stop by in an hour”

Matthew rose first.

“Thank you, dear boy. There is a case with Emily”

“My thanks, old man. Now, if you would be so kind?”

Emily did indeed have refreshments for us, and a room in which to consume them, and Susie was with us in twenty minutes before once more departing for an interview with yet another elderly man. I wondered how she was feeling, surrounded by white-haired pensioners rather than people of her own age, but Valerie was clearly in need of some support. Rodney was attentive, explaining that he had already arranged with his staff for a simple evening meal.

“I rather assumed that we would be in need of some comfort this evening, my friends, and therefore we shall have steak and kidney pudding with the usual accompaniments. A quiet evening, I would propose, one to allow us to digest what will most certainly have been rather a full day for our charge”

I couldn’t argue with that, and when she reappeared neither could Susie. We returned to Rodney’s ‘little place’ by black cab, and she sat in silence throughout the journey. It wasn’t until we had finished the rich gravy of our meal that she produced the long envelope from her handbag.

Charles had given his diagnosis, in a remarkably short time. We found a post office the next day, a photo booth inside it took our money and the application went off to the Passport Office that afternoon.

CHAPTER 46
Susie was annoying for some weeks after that, as she fretted for what she clearly saw as vindication of her status. I had spent quite a while trying to straighten out the tax people for her PAYE and that, but no matter how many times she saw her name on a payslip she still didn’t seem to find my recognition ‘official’ enough. The Saturday it finally came, she went missing for an evening, returning home in the small hours in a very well-oiled state. I said nothing as she came in, just made her a cup of tea and saw her safely up the stairs.

She was quiet over breakfast. I thought at first it was a hangover, but that was only part of it. She was toying with her toast, and I could see she was looking for the right words to say something important, when she simply put the slice down and pushed her plate away from her, reaching across the table to take my hand.

“Gerald…”

“Aye, lass?”

Her mouth gave a little twitch. “You say that so easily”

“Well, what else should I say?”

She gave my hand a squeeze. “It’s just odd, like, being official, and, well, last night…”

I smiled and squeezed back. “Bit too much to sup?”

“No, not that, it were… I ended up getting a snog, and that were nice, but it were a walk home as well. And he didn’t try owt, you know, mucky. I…”

Suddenly she was in tears. I waited for a minute, then gave her hand a pat and went to pour some more tea. That seemed to steady her.

“Sorry, Gerald. It were just… it’s just I don’t know where I am!”

I tried a joke about sitting at home having a Sunday breakfast, but she was shaking her head with more than a hint of the forcefulness she had shown in getting me out of the River.

“Stop that, love. Now, Dr Hemmings, he’s been right good to me, and I’ve been on the pills now for a few months, and on top of what I got from Helen—er, you didn’t hear that. Look, there’ve been quite a few changes on the outside, but…

“You were with that Carol”

“Aye, I were, but I look at it now, and, well, she were right diesel, you know?”

“No, I don’t”

“Ah. Aye. Diesel, it’s like a slang term, bit rude. Lesbian who looks a bit more like a lad than a lass”

“Ah! You mean a butch! Don’t look at me like that, I’ve been doing some reading, trying to catch up”

She almost melted my heart with her smile. “I don’t know how you manage, sometimes, all the changes, all the surprises I throw at you”

“Had a lot thrown at me already, Susie. You learn to adapt a bit. So. You’re hopping off other bus, then”

“I don’t know, really. I… Look, at school I never went with anyone. Couldn’t, really, didn’t get chance, and I think, in back of mind, like, I must have thought, enough problems with being a lass with extra bits without being called a queer. Well, I WERE called a queer, but you know what I mean!”

“Aye, I get what you’re saying. So that Carol, she were like a bloke, then?”

“Yeah. Now I think about it… Then it were lad last night, and lads at work, and, I just think I’ve had my eyes looking down so much, or over my shoulder to see who’s coming for me, I never looked up before, looked around? And now I do, and, well. I didn’t want to upset you”

“And this lad last night?”

My girl actually blushed. “He’s asked us to pictures on Saturday”

I took both of her hands. “I’m not upset, lass. Just worried about you being safe. What if he finds out, you know?”

She laughed. “You don’t think there’s anyone in city who doesn’t know about tranny at boat yard? He bought me a drink, and I went to ladies’ and as I did I saw one of his mates nudge him, and I know what he were saying, and Andrew, that’s his name, he just shrugged and he were sitting at table waiting when I got back, and he didn’t say owt, so I says to him, your mate’s just told you about me, right? And he says aye, he has, but that’s not what I see, so sup up and enjoy evening”

She paused, brow furrowed. “I don’t think he were taking piss either. I just… I just think he actually enjoyed my bloody company! And…”

The blush was back, and she was trembling. “And he says he’s off to pub for Sunday lunch, and he’s off to the Ship, and would it be… Could we just go out for dinner? I know Mam would like it, and it would be daylight, and it would mean not having to wait a bloody week to find out he were just pissed and stupid!”

It never ceased to shock me that the girl who had shown such courage in pulling me from a February river, such fire when I spoke to her, such determination to live life as she needed to, felt so insecure.

“I’ll ring your Mam, then, while you finish breakfast. Why do you want her along? Might just give her some problems, surely?”

A very deep sigh. “Happen it’ll make us look more like normal family and… well… Well, she’s going to have to get used to idea, so soonest started, aye?”

The phone was picked up after three rings. “Morning, Valerie!”

“How do, Gerald? What’s up?”

“A Sunday dinner if you’d like. Susie and me are off down to Ship in Acaster”

“What aren’t you telling me, Gerald?”

“Ah, not now, aye? I’ll tell you later. You coming out?”

“Aye. What time?”

“Twelve-ish?”

“Fine by me”

I let Susie know, and by twelve we had a table outside with a sunshade, and a pot of tea ordered. Susie was in some flowery frock and stupid shoes, but for once I didn’t see a grimace on Valerie’s face when she arrived. Things were clearly settling between mother and daughter.

“Tea, Val?”

“Aye, ta. Want me to go?”

“No ta. I’ll use gents’ while I’m up”

I got as far as the toilet door before I was stupid, and it was astonishing how everything slowed down. I caught my foot on a step, I went completely off-balance and my mind turned into some sort of sports commentator.

What an idiot, Gerald. You can’t stop yourself falling now, and at your age that probably means damage, possibly a break, and then who’ll look after the business, or Susie, or—

A strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around me from behind, and I realised whoever it was had almost dropped to their knees to catch me.

“Easy there, Mr Barker!”

He set me upright and straightened my jacket.

“Are you all right?”

Broken hip, collar bone, arm… “Aye. Wouldn’t have been, though. I owe you a pint. How do you know me?”

He was a very big man, with a beard and a shaven head like that Yul Brynner in the films. “I live in the village. Everyone knows Dobbs and Barker. Pete Hall. I run the haulage business down by Copmanthorpe”

I knew the place. “Well, Pete, you’ve certainly hauled this old idiot back to safety. And it’s Gerald. Look, I’m sat out with friends, family dinner like. I just need to go in here, and then, well, take a pint?”

“I’d like that. Timmy Taylor’s?”

“OK. I’m sat with ladies, Susie and Val, they’re mam and daughter, like. Pot of tea on table”

I did what I had to, washed my hands and made very sure that I tripped over nothing else on my way back to the table with Pete’s pint. The two girls were laughing as I came up, and as I sat down, a barmaid followed me with Val’s tea.

“Pete tell you what happened?”

Susie’s face soured. “Aye! We’re going to get you a bloody crash helmet if you’re going to start that! Mam, he’s had nowt but tea today so it’s not alcohol”
Pete grinned. “I’m lucky; house is a walk away, so I don’t have to worry about driving, and, well, fat as I am I’d just bounce if I fell over”

Val laughed. “Young man, you are not fat! A girl likes a bit of meat on a fella—“

It was her term to blush as she realised what meaning could be taken, Susie slapping her arm with a squeal of “Mam!!”

I just grinned, and turned to our new friend. “You here for dinner, Pete? No family?”

Possibly the wrong question from his change of manner, but it passed quickly. “I’m a widower, Gerald. Lost my wife when we were living down south, and the boy---my son---he’s off at Arborfield, military college place. No, no family here”

I looked at the girls. “His lad’ll be REME then. We had a few dealings with them”

Pete took a slow sip from his pint. “Who were you with, Gerald? Don’t recognise the tie---no, hang on: mud and blood? Royal Armoured Corps?”

“No, RTR. Tank for a badge, not a wanking spanner”

Both girls snorted at that, looking puzzled. Pete just laughed.

“Ladies, I’ll explain in a bit. Gerald, RTR is a part of the RAC, surely?”

“Aye, but we were there first, and others are all donkey-wallopers!”

He howled with laughter. “Ladies, this man reminds me so much of my boy! Gerald, you improve my day no end. Shall I?”

I was still a little embarrassed at having slipped that word out. “Aye, go on”

He grinned. “Well, donkey wallopers are old cavalry regiments, almost entirely in armoured vehicles now. And the badge of the RAC is a mailed fist. A steel, clenched fist. A wank---“

Some of the drinks stayed unspoilt. As the laughter died down, there was a cough by the table from a lad who looked to be in his twenties, running a little to fat but neatly turned out to the extent of actually having on a collar and shirt rather than a T-shirt. He looked down at Susie.

“Hello, Susie”

She was crimson. “Hi, Andrew. Er. We came out for us Sunday dinner”

He was scanning faces, looking for a hint of some kind. I reached out to shake his hand.

“You the lad that saw our Susie safe back home last night? I mean, it were morning, but you take my meaning”

“Er, aye. I come… Er, I…”

Pete moved along the bench. “Sit down, lad. Take your time”

Andrew took his seat. “I don’t cook, like, so I come out sometimes for a proper, you know”

I nodded. “I know what you mean. Happen I DO cook”

“Overcook!” came Susie’s interruption, and I gave her a mock glare that ended up as a grin.

“I do cook, and so does Susie, and so does her Mam, but sometimes it’s nice just to let someone else do the work. Now, then. Pete? Are you eating with us?”

“Indeed, if you don’t mind”

“Not at all. What about you, lad?”

Andrew nodded sharply, and I pointed towards the pub.

“Grab us some menus then please”

As he left, Valerie shot a sharp glance at Pete, who shrugged. “Need the gents for a bit. Another round of tea?”

I nodded, and as soon as he was out of earshot, and in a surprisingly calm voice, Valerie began.

“Saw you home?”

“Mam, are we going to start another argument?”

Val examined her nails for around two minutes, while Susie sat patiently, though I could sense her tension. Finally, the older woman started to speak.

“I lost my child years ago. That’s what I thought. Then I discovered I hadn’t lost her, just put her aside, and there are…. Gerald Barker, you opened my eyes. What’s more, I remember how it felt when I lost my son and I can’t face that again when I’ve just found my daughter. This was a set-up, wasn’t it?”

Susie nodded. “You, that were Gerald. Andrew? Well, that were me. I just wanted to see… I just wanted to see if he had asked me out for myself or whether it were just booze talking for him”

“So… so you and lads, like?”

“I don’t know, Mam. But he were nice to me last night, and, well”

“Does he know?”

Susie nodded.

“You don’t think he’s, you know, one of them that likes, you know?

“Freaks, Mam? I don’t know. Like I said, he were nice to me, didn’t try anything, and aye, I pretty much think he knows about me, so, well. I just think today, dinner, like, see how he is. See how day goes, take it from there. Look, they’re both coming back, so smiles and chit-chat, please. Hiya, Andrew, this is my Mam, Valerie, my boss Gerald and his friend Pete. Let’s have a look at the specials first”

CHAPTER 47
“So, Andrew, what do you do for work?”

Valerie was smiling and clearly doing her very best for her daughter.

“I’m a draughtsman, at Harwell’s out by Layerthorpe”

Pete looked up at that. “Bit of a narrow field, us three then. All engineers of one sort or another”

“I just do the drawings, Pete”

“Yes, but there’ll be a bit of insight there. Never looked at someone else’s work and thought that something didn’t look right?”

“Well, aye, but, well…”

I wondered just then if his lack of confidence was what drew him to Susie, the idea that if he couldn’t pull a ‘real’ girl he might succeed with the desperate ones, but I’d only just met the lad, so put the nasty thoughts away.

“What do you fancy, lad?”

He nearly blushed at that, and I revised my opinion upwards. Susie saw, and I caught a hint of a smile on her lips. Andrew made a point of poring over the menu.

“Happen I’ll go for roast beef”

The girls went for turkey, while Pete and I also opted for the beef. Pete was the only one drinking, but he kept it to three pints and then followed us onto tea.

“Where were you, Gerald?”

“Oh, in War? Normandy, at first, but we ended up right by Denmark”

Andrew looked up. “I bet you saw some things!”

Pete’s look was more measured. “Son, just a suggestion, but if what I suspect about where Gerald served is correct, it isn’t a dinner-time thing”

I shook my head, and Susie put her hand on my arm. “No, Andrew, not today, aye? Anyway, how’s beef?”

“Could do with it being a bit rarer, like. I don’t like it overdone”

She laughed. “Not like Gerald here, he likes it done to death, veg boiled to sludge, all that!”

“But he says you cook?”

“Aye, I do that, but I have to do my veg separate, like, keep some flavour and some bloody food value in it, right, Gerald my dear?”

“Aye, happen she does like her stuff almost raw. But she does do a lovely pork roast”

Susie snorted. “That’s different! Pork’s got to be really cooked through to be safe, and if you don’t cook it properly you get no crackling, and what’s roast pork without it? I’ll show you…”

Courage regathered, she spoke again. “If you like, I can do a dinner sometime, you come round and I’ll feed you. You an all, Pete, if you’d like”

The addition was obvious. Not really asking you round, Andrew, just including you in a group. I gave her arm a little squeeze and we settled down to the food, the silence being broken by Pete.

“You been back at all, Gerald?”

“No, not yet. We’ve got a trip planned later this year, though. Couple or three other old soldiers, take ferry across to beach we landed at, then sort of follow our route up through Germany”

“What are you going in?”

“Oh, I think one of lads has sorted out a people carrier thing, you know: seven seater”

“Well, I do have some to hire out if you’re stuck. Could do you a deal”

“Might take you up on that. One of lads is a bit limited. Stroke, like, and shy an arm, but that were Korea, not War”

Val spoke quietly. “It’s all war, Gerald, all same nastiness”

Andrew surprised me just then, and from her expression he caught Susie just as unaware.

“No, they’re not all same, Valerie. I’m guessing from what Pete here said that, well… Lads fought in the big war against something really evil, aye? Camps and gas and---sorry, Gerald. But, well, this last lot, it were all about who gets bloody oil, all about money, but people with the money don’t get shot at and…”

He ran out of steam, then found a last gasp. “Just don’t like the way this one was started. Shouldn’t be fighting wars for big business. I mean, Falklands, that were right thing, but we only had to do it cause government were more concerned about money than people. Sorry, I’ll shut up now. Bit too heavy for dinner, like last thing I said”

Susie was almost open-mouthed. “You didn’t say owt like that last night!”

Andrew stared at his plate. “Not best thing to talk about when you want to… when you… when you like a lass and want her to talk to you again”

She sat stock still for about fifteen seconds, then very quietly said, with a touch to his hand where it held his fork beside his roast dinner, “Thank you, Andrew”

It seemed his self-confidence only came in short bursts, so Pete changed the subject to sport, which allowed a truly animated argument about the relative merits of League and Union, and that in turn had Pete looking wistfully at his empty beer glass.

“No, I’ll just sleep all afternoon. Andrew, ever come out this way of an evening?”

“Not often. I tend to stick around Ouse Bridge or up by Shambles”

“Well, do you fancy taking an old man out for a beer Friday or Saturday?”

“Em, not this weekend. I’m, er, busy”

Not a word from my girl, till he looked straight at her. “I hope I am, any road”

She sniffed. “Haven’t seen what’s on yet”

“Well, there’s one with Meryl what’s her face and Clint Eastwood”

Her eyebrows went up. “That’s a real girly film! I thought you’d want, you know, flash-bang-boom stuff”

The first genuine and relaxed smile of the day came to him. “A lot you don’t know about me, Susie. I do a lot of reading”

Valerie coughed, and we all looked round. She shrugged and held up both her hands.

“Has to be said. Susie, boys can walk off for a bit if you’d prefer. No, not you, Andrew”

Val looked across to Pete and back to her daughter, who simply nodded, and her mother turned back to Andrew.

“Young man, we need to have a few things clear here, especially about my daughter. She’s been hurt, and hurt very badly. I won’t let that happen again. Pete, you need to know something here, but I feel you have common sense as well as courtesy, so, well—“

Pete smiled. “Not being funny, Valerie, nor in any way nasty, but I can see what she is. I have some… some experience there. Not now, though”

“Thank you, Pete. When you feel ready, could we talk? I’m out of my depth here, but I think, I know that Gerald and my girl know I am trying, that I mean well, aye? Well, do you?”

The two of us nodded and Valerie continued. “From what Susie’s told us, you know as well, Andrew. I need to be clear on this point, and I’m sorry if I come across as rude, but as I said I will not see my girl hurt again. Now, I need to know what you are after, and I need to know if I can trust you, because if I can’t, you will never, ever hear the end of it. What are you after?”

He was blushing like a stoplight now. “What can I say? I… I…”

He took a couple of deep breaths and tried again. “I do not have any sexual interest in willies, in men, in things like that, OK? Just there I am, sat in pub, and girl comes in, and she’s tall, nice legs and I’m going to be rude here and she’ll slap me, but not the best-looking, not some sort of plastic Barbie thing, and she gets a drink and sits down and takes a letter or something from her handbag, and it makes her smile, and room lights up she’s so happy”

Susie smiled in reality just then. “I took envelope passport came in, just to look at it, know it were real, like”

Andrew looked straight at her rather than at his hands. “Passport in real name and, er, you know?”

“Passport saying ‘female’, aye”

“Aye. So she smiles, and I think how lovely, how happy, and lads I were with were talking about bloody football again, so I think, go for it, Andy, so I says to her how she looks happy, and she says cause she’s had really good news, and I says like Lottery win, and she says no, better, so I says want a top-up, and---

“And so we get talking, and it’s like we’ve always known each other, it’s that easy, and I go to bar, and lad I know says you know that’s a tranny, and I says no, just a girl with some issues, but I can talk to her, and he says I didn’t know you went that way, and I say well, I don’t, so I turn around and go back, and I have one of the best nights ever, just chatting, so we end up in a place I know does a lock-in, and it’s too late for buses… So I walk her back to hers, and it’s comfortable, and nice, and there’s chill so we have to cuddle up a bit and, well…

“And we do the good-night bit, and she’s suddenly so shy, and there’s just enough from the street lights to let me see she’s trying not to cry, so I… so I say good-night properly after I get her to come out the next weekend. And I won’t say I don’t care that she’s, you know, because I do, but, well, I think we click, and that’s all I have to say”

Valerie’s mouth was hanging open at that point, only closing as Andrew’s flood of confession died away to a stammer and a blush. Pete reached across and patted his hand.

“Well said, son. Well done. Now, at risk of taking over this conversation, let me tell you a story of my own"

CHAPTER 48
He was looking down at his hands as he started speaking again, and I watched his forearms ripple as sinews stood out and relaxed. He was far from relaxed himself, obviously.

“Right. You, we all know what Susie is, here and now. No, girl, let me finish. Not a good place to be, not in today’s world”

Susie snorted. “Better than it were, Pete!”

“Yes, better than it’s ever been, in a way, but we should really say not as bad. I don’t think it’s ever going to be ‘good’, not in any absolute sense”

I could see his point. There had been laws, back in Bob’s day, laws that could have put him in a worse prison than his nature had dealt him. Those laws were no more, and the nancy boys, the buggers, the shirt-lifters and bum-boys, they were all legal now, but it didn’t by any means imply they were or would ever be accepted. The so-called comedy on the telly was still full of limp-wristed lisping caricatures, and there had been Bob, and…

“Gerald?”

I looked up sharply, realising I had been lost to the others for more than a moment. Valerie looked quite concerned.

“You all right, love?”

“Sorry, lass. Memories, aye?”

Pete gave me a long stare, nothing there but understanding, before continuing.

“I was a copper, before, another county, almost another country in many ways. Got wed, settled down, house, garden, my boy came along, all so normal, so simple. That could never last. It seems things like that never do last, and when I lost my wife, Pete lost his mum, well, we had our connections here, so we moved, and well, isn’t it true? Home is where you can anchor, where your family is, and I had my boy, but it could never replace what we’d lost. Neither me, nor my boy; we both lost”

I gave Pete his stare back as he paused. “When I were thinking, like, happen it were what you said. Susie, you met him, Bob, remember?”

She reached out for my hand. “How could I forget, love?”

I smiled at her and turned back to Pete. “Was that it with your son? What Susie and I were on about were a really good mate who… he wasn’t a ladies’ man, if you get my meaning, but he were the best mate anyone could ever hope for. If your boy’s, you know, we’re fine about it”

Pete looked puzzled for about three seconds before realisation hit him. “Oh! No, you have the wrong end of the stick, Gerald, very much so. My boy has always been one for the girls. It was really one of those girls I was on about. Well, she wasn’t strictly a girl, if you see what I mean”

Susie sat up straighter. “Oh? Wasn’t she?”

Pete grimaced. “Simple story. Neighbours, playmates, and they were officially a boy, but we knew them from being a toddler, and they went to school with Pete, and they were always in the house or the garden, playing with my boy”

Susie coughed. “Pete, you can say ‘she’ and ‘her’ if you want”

“Yes, but they weren’t, officially, were they? But my boy, he could see, and, to be honest, so could I. And so could her mother”

Andrew surprised me then, surprised and impressed.

“You’re not saying it, Mr…Pete. You’re not making it plain, so I will guess, and if I say wrong thing, please take it right way. It were little girl’s dad, weren’t it?”

The bleakness in Pete’s eyes was terrifying, and his voice was dangerously soft. “And your own dad, Andy? Am I right? Bit handy with his fists, or the belt?”

“Both, actually. I left as soon as I could, took apprenticeship and a room. Had enough of being a fucking football---sorry, shouldn’t swear in company”

“Well done, son. What about your mum?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Got a couple of brothers of her own, my Uncles Paul and Will. They came round and made sure he left properly, like. I mean, I didn’t see it, I were away in Sheffield at Tech, but I heard. Bastard’s just a pisshead now, always in the Knavesmire, so I stay away from that one. Mam’s moved to Thirsk. Sorry, hard to talk about it without being rude”

Susie just smiled at him. “Thanks for sharing that with us, Andy. Takes courage, that!”

“Not as much as you’ve got, lass. Sorry, Pete, we’re taking over your story”

The big man smiled himself, but there was something dark still there in his eyes, so I asked the obvious question, the one the moment needed.

“This were a child same as Susie, Pete? Born a lad, but really a lass?”

He nodded. “Yup, exactly that, Gerald. Just rather younger. Susie, can I be inquisitive?”

“Depends on what about, Pete”

“OK. Look, when did you realise you were all, you know, wrong?”

She looked at her mother, whose face was twisted just a little bit. “Since I knew there were a difference between boys and girls, Pete. Yes, Mam, long as that. All my conscious life, really”

Pete was nodding. “Indeed. That’s what Lau—that’s what that little girl was like. And that did not impress her father”

Andy was clearly angry. “Belt, fists or feet, Pete?”

“All, really. He slapped her so hard once she lost some teeth, and then, once… Once he took her upstairs, and he took her by one arm, like a bag of shopping, and that arm just snapped, but he carried her all the fucking way up the fucking stairs…. Sorry. Andy said it. I just had to mind my own business, but even Pete was picking up on the signs, and then his mum went, and after it was over I moved up here, we moved, and I have no idea of what has happened to the little girl I knew down there. And that, Susie, is the reason I have no issue with what you are. You are not the first woman I have met who has underwear issues, and I am sure you won’t be the last”

Valerie’s voice was soft. “What happened to the father, Pete? Are you able to tell us?”

He reached for his glass, and before he took a sip he said “Oh. He’s not around any more”

Long swallow. “Natural causes. Not exactly missed”

Another close inspection of his drink, then a fixed and artificial smile that told us all quite clearly that while he had obviously revealed far more than he had intended to, the subject was now closed.

“Gerald, have a think about that bus. I really need to take some time away from work, and a guided tour sounds like an idea. Oh, and there’s just me in the house now, so…”

Valerie burst out laughing, which broke the spell. “Oh you cheeky so-and-so, course you can!”

I must have looked puzzled, because she nudged her daughter, “One more place setting, Susie? That be too much? Am I right, Pete? Hinting about a dinner with us?”

The cheerful man I had met earlier was suddenly back “Am I that transparent, Valerie?”

“Oh, come on: a man, a roast dinner, someone else to do the cooking? Not rocket science, is it?”

That certainly drove the darkness away from the edge of our table, and within a very short time diaries had been compared (Pete’s being some electric thing, Andy’s a miniature ring-binder in a leather cover) and we had guests due for the following Sunday. I started to laugh.

“Valerie? See what your girl’s doing to this anti-social old so and so? I’ll have to add to her job description now: social secretary. Andy, you already know where we live, am I right? Or did our girl here stop a couple of streets away, just in case?”

That hit Susie square on, and I realised she had indeed not brought him all the way to the house, just in case he had turned out to be someone different the next day to the man who had smiled at her in the pub. That man actually blushed.

“I’m still here, aren’t I? And yes, I wouldn’t mind a decent meal, just got a hot plate and a microwave in digs”

I made sure he had our real address then, rather than whatever door Susie had walked him to, and confirmed it with Pete.

“Oh, and that bus idea, I’ll run it past the lads. It could be a winner. I think Rodney’s ‘man’ has a licence for that sort of thing, so driving can be shared”

“Right. I’d just need any names in advance, for the insurance and stuff”

We finished the meal in a much lighter mood, and then three of us went for a little walk to the riverside while two others said goodbye. Val dropped back a little for a quiet word with me as Pete stared out across the Ouse.

“He’s got something else going on, that one”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I’m not past it yet, Gerald, and I certainly wouldn’t say no, but he’s not open. Locked and bolted, that one”

“You fancy him, Valerie?”

“Oh dear me yes, what woman wouldn’t? But he’s either spoken for or he’s pining. Trust me on that one. Anyway, am I welcome to yours for dinner as well?”

I pulled her into a hug. “Aren’t you family, then?”

Goodbyes were said, leave was taken, and Susie sat smiling on the ride back, up until she asked one simple question.

“What did he mean by ‘natural causes’, Gerald?”

CHAPTER 49
I looked across at her, till she yelped and I turned my eyes to the front as we narrowly missed a cyclist. Concentrate, Ginge. I realised how much that one question had weighed on my mind.

“Susie, think on. I suspect he might be a bit lonely, what with his lad being away and that”

“Aye, and Mam thinks he has someone in his past as well”

“Aye, that as well. I just think a lot of the way he were was what they call a false front, like. I think he might have slipped a bit; in fact, I think he’s probably sitting at home asking himself why he said it. So, I think we need to leave that one well alone, if you take my meaning”

I felt rather than saw her nod, as I was trying not to frighten any more other road users, and she patted my arm.

“What about this lad of yours, then?”

“He’s not my lad!”

“I suspect he might want to be, or at least he’s thinking about it”

“Don’t know if I’m ready for that sort of thing…”

“You mean you don’t know if your mam is?”

“Aye, that an all”

“Well… happen you’ve seen pictures of my Tricia?”

“Aye”

“Well, her family had the bakery in Acaster”

“I remember you telling me”

“And there were me, going in for little things as often as I could, just to see lass, like, and too frightened, too shy to say owt, and then mate’s wife just drags me in, and Tricia’s mother just says ‘about time’, and that were… That were best thing ever happened in my life”

She left me in peace for a few minutes, as I found my pride again, and then she gave me another squeeze to my arm.

“Don’t leave life too long before you live it. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

“Aye, I suppose so”

“Well, we’re off out on the weekend, so we’ll see. I’m dreaming no dreams, Gerald”

My laughter surprised me. “Oh yes you are, lass! Now, what say we stop by Bob and the girls and let them know how world is?”

The idea surprised me almost as much as it did Susie, but it seemed exactly the right thing to do. I stopped in a garage to buy a bunch of what Ernie had always called LMAFs, ‘Last Minute Apology Flowers’, and after finding a space near the cemetery we walked arm in arm to the spot I knew so well.

“Afternoon. Not the best flowers I could bring, but it’s a Sunday, so I got brightest I could. I’ll just set them up here”

The feeling was different, a new warmth in me as I stood by the little group. Just a few words, and what was flooding me was a wave of memories of happy times, and that one word said it all. ‘Happy’, not ‘happier’. I still felt the losses, each so painful, and those wounds would and should never heal, but shining in front of the pain were brighter things.

My Tricia blushing at her mam’s words that first time in the shop.
Bob, Bob and all of the boys, smiling as we demolished roast goose cooked by a man who had never been allowed to be a proper Scout, but had got there under his own initiative.
That hug from Dad, the first day back.
Our wedding day and, oh yes, night.

So many memories, so much joy. The pain would never be gone, but I could look past it now.

“Well, happen this young lady might be courting now, and he seems a good lad. We made a new friend today as well, and I’ll be honest, he reminds me of you, Bob. Got a lad, just joined up, REME, so he’ll be doing some of same things we did, and I hope he’ll have someone to keep an eye on him like I had. Been a good day, so we just thought, well, stop by and share, and leave a little bit of colour for you”

I stood for a while, till my new girl took me over to the bench by the path and we sat quietly, each with our own thoughts, before heading back to the car and home.

She was all rush and bustle the next weekend, washing, ironing and primping all Friday evening and fretting away through work till I sent her home with one of the lads in the works van. It were Ricky that took her, and when he came back he knocked on the door and asked if he could have a word.

“How can I help, son?”

He was nervous as anything. “Mr Barker… it’s about Susie”

Right. “What about her, son?”

“Um, well, lads were saying… Is she courting, Mr Barker?”

“I think that would rightly be her business, son. Why do you want to know?”

He looked surprised, then clearly felt a penny drop. “Oh, no, not like that! Just, she’s right good company, that one, and she treats us all great, one of the lads like, and, well, that’s just it, int it? I mean, one of the lads is what she were”

Careful, lad. “And…?”

“No, Mr Barker, not like that! Happen none of us cares about that bit, just she’s right good company, as I said, and we don’t worry about her…. What she might have been. This isn’t bloody Victorian times, is it? Just, lads heard she were stepping out with a lad, and just wanted to be sure she were safe, like. Look after our own. I mean, you’ve always looked after lads here, so it’s only right”

“Take a seat, Ricky. Aye, she’s out with lad tonight, but I’m not saying where. But thank you. Thank you for being sort of lad I’m happy to have working for me. Now, we’ve got three cruisers back from over Pennines tomorrow, and I’ll want them started on Monday. Water heater’s gone on one of them, probably scaled up. Get Beckwith’s out to do plumber stuff while you sort out motors. Any problems, let me know”

He took the hint, and his feet, and I smiled at him.

“Thanks, lad. Really thank you”

I wound up the day and made my way home, where Susie was in a complete panic.

“What do I wear, Gerald?”

“You’re asking me? What would you normally wear?”

“I wouldn’t normally wear any bloody thing because I wouldn’t normally be going out with a lad, would I? I mean, do I dress ‘easy’, or ‘tarty’, or ‘boring’ or… Get the door love!”

It was her mother. “Right, let me through, Gerald, go and put kettle on or milk cat or whatever. Susie, wardrobe, now!”

Off they went upstairs, and as we didn’t have a cat, I made a pot of tea and set it out in the front room with cups and the necessaries. Val was down in fifteen minutes, and poured herself a cup.

“Well, goes with the job, like, only one here who’s a mother”

“What brought you round, lass?”

“Well, call it learning process, call it coming to terms with situation, call it a mam worried her daughter’s going to go out dressed wrong. Just making sure she gets right start on evening”

I passed her the biscuit tin. “And call it making up for past mistakes, like?”

“Gerald, if that had come from anyone else they’d have felt the back of my hand. No. You’re right. Showed me a lot of things, you have, things I should have seen myself, so I take it as you meant it”

“Aye. Happen I did some of that myself yesterday, down by family”

“Ah. You mean down in the cemetery, love?”

“Aye, that. Just today, well, I’ve always… Valerie, you don’t have to hear all this, right? Just, I were a right miserable old fool for too many years. Yesterday, I don’t know why, I just sort of got a new look at things, what they call a new perspective, then after I sent her off this afternoon, I get one of the lads in as wants to talk about her. No, not like that!”

She had been putting her tea down, lips tight. I held up a calming hand.

“No, you’ll like this. She gets on right well with my employees, all of them, lads in sheds as well as office staff. One of them gave her lift home, and then he comes in to ask questions, make sure she’s going to be safe, like”

Valerie sat back in the armchair, cradling her cup and saucer. “She never had anyone do that at school, Gerald. Always the other side of things, not exactly caring and sharing, if you catch my meaning”

“Aye, I do that. But think on, Val: when was she ever able to be herself at school? Or even anywhere, before now, like? Happen she’s got proper key to cell door, and folk can see that. Anyway, that were yesterday’s thing. I realised I can’t take anything back, turn back clock, change past. What I did have, what I could do, was hang on to the bright things, like… Look up on mantleshelf”

I got myself out of my chair and handed down that photo.

“That were our wedding day, there”

“She were a bonny lass, Gerald”

“Aye, and I were a lucky man, and that were thought yesterday. I mean, all that happened, all the bad stuff, that doesn’t take a thing away from fact that I saw her, I was lucky enough to wed her, and to have Bob as mate, and my Mam and my Dad”

Val reached across the table for my hand. “Susie rang me, Gerald, and she said how you were smiling for first time she’d seen, there, that place, like, and she made me laugh. Bloody ‘Last Minute Apology Flowers’ indeed! Anyway, happen I thought as we’d had such a good day out last Sunday I’d take you out again, and so I stopped by florist’s and got something a little better, I hope. No, we don’t chuck others out. You bought them for your family, it’s thought that counts, aye? I just thought, if you don’t mind, well, I think if you’ve taken my girl on as family, then least I can do is return favour”

She smiled, and there was just a hint of mischief there. “And if we get that Andy out as well we can make sure he knows where boundaries lie!”

CHAPTER 50
Susie wasn’t too late back, which suited all of us, especially as I had been forced to threaten Valerie to go home rather than sit up awaiting the prodigal daughter. I had taken myself to bed, but I couldn’t sleep till I heard the key in the lock, a clatter of heeled shoes on the doorstep and, of all things, a giggle. The next morning, there was a knock at my bedroom door and in came my girl with a tray of tea and a couple of rounds of toast and jam.

“What brought this on?”

“Nowt, really, just felt like it”

I supped my tea. “You can feel like it every Sunday morning if you like, but bring hoover up to get crumbs out of bed after. How did it go?”

She sat back against the foot of the bedstead. “Awkwardly, I suppose. I mean, there’s a connection there, but, well, I’ve not been one for lads before, and, saying nowt more, neither has he, and, you know what I mean”

“Time and doctors, lass!”

“Aye, I suppose, but… But what it were, it were a right good evening, and you know what I mean when I say it’s just nice to have someone to hold onto, someone as cares. If that’s all I get, I’ll count myself lucky”

I raised an eyebrow, and she laughed. “Aye, bit more than a cuddle it were, and it’s early days, but he makes me laugh and I will say one thing: he makes me feel good about myself. Big thing, that. New thing, an all”

“You feel up to going out today as well?”

“Let me guess: Mam and Ship?”

“Aye, and she wants to stop by family on way. Deep lass, your mam”

“Aye, I’m only just beginning to see how deep she is. You know I can’t pay you back, Gerald?”

“Family don’t keep score, lass”

She looked down into her cup. “Aye”

Valerie picked us up, in the end, and drove us out to the rest of my family, where she set out a reasonably large pot of daffodils.

“Happen the bulbs will give them a few more showings than just cut flowers. Florist were right funny, says is them for Mr Barker, and I says aye, who’s asking, and she just says he’s got lass staying with him now. So I says, aye, my daughter Susie, and she says…”

She slipped an arm around my waist, head resting on my shoulder, and though I was so much taller, it was me that was being held.

“She says too many years, Gerald, twice a year, like clockwork, February and November, right good customer, and do you realise how many people in this town look up to you? Are happy for you? So smiles today, lad, and roast dinner”

I introduced her properly to them all, and then we drove out to the village, the sun still warm enough to sit out in, but the wind was a little fresher, so my napkin sat under my cutlery until the food arrived, which was just after Pete. There was a young man with him, just as tall but without the bulk, and still with a full head of hair.

“Afternoon, all. We join you?”

“Aye, of course, Scuttle along, girls make some room”

Pete grinned. “We’ll just pull this other table over. Son, I’ll have the lamb, if you get an order in. Your shout, I think. And no soldierly language! Ladies present”

The younger man, clearly his REME boy, laughed and went inside the pub.

“He’s got a weekend pass, Gerald, and next weekend is Passing Out and then a posting. He’s been over in Catterick for a bit, finishing all the basic rubbish. Thinks he’s lined up for somewhere in Germany after”

Pete looked across at Susie, and frowned. “Hope you don’t think I’ve overstepped, but I sort of let him know---oh. Who’s this?”

I looked over my right shoulder, following his gaze. “Oh, aye! Get your order in, lad, we’re waiting!”

Susie was actually blushing and slapping her mother’s arm. Val looked cocky.

“Well, if you’re going to leave your phone unlocked, then what else can a mother do but---no, love, all I looked up was his number. Thanks for coming out, Andy”

He actually looked unsure. “You all ordered?”

Pete nodded. “Yup! My lad’s in there at bar, and he’s driving, so remind him dads get thirsty as well as hungry. He knows what I like”

So much more relaxed, he grinned round the table. “A man can get used to this on his day off! Anyway, young lady, spare us no blushes. Good night last night? Right! I’ll take that as a yes, and we’ll leave it there then. Gerald, how many are you thinking of for this foreign trip of yours?”

I sat and thought about that for a minute, counting on my fingers, as the two younger men returned from the bar. Pete held a hand out to his boy.

“My friends, this is my Tiffy lad Peter junior, REME. Pete, these are good friends of mine so be polite. Valerie. Her daughter Susie, Gerald Barker, got the boatyard, Dobbs and Barker? And Susie’s lad Andrew”

Susie blushed again at that, but I noticed Andy saying nothing at all to the little bit of sniping. Val asked the obvious question, and it was the younger Pete that answered.

“Artificer, tiffy. Not exactly yet, got to do the Passing Out bit first, but yes, I’ll be a tiffy. A craftsman among the professionals, as they say. That’s our Corps magazine, The Craftsman. Working on Warriors, mostly, getting them fettled and I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

Valerie laughed. “Not too much, son, but what are we going to call you if we don’t want to talk to your dad?”

He laughed, and it was a happy one. “We all end up with nicknames, er, Valerie. I got two, but we’ll leave one alone, if you don’t mind. The better one is ‘Titch’, from, well, complicated”

A round of teas arrived, to go with Pete’s pint of Timmy Taylor, and his son busied himself with pots and cups as he explained,

“See, they knew what Dad used to do, so I became See You, for Cu, copper, yes? That became Kew, then Gardens, then Titch from Alan Titchmarsh who does the gardening on the telly?”

We laughed at that one, before Andy asked about the other nickname, and ‘Titch’ grinned.

“Alsop”

He looked around the table, clearly enjoying the joke. “Stands for ‘A long streak of…’ but I’ll leave it there”

I really warmed to the lad, so full of life he was dimming the sun, and immediately understood why his father was so out of sorts when he was away.

“Gerald?”

“Aye, Pete?”

“Numbers?”

“Oh, aye. Well, me, of course. Matthew and Rodney. Rodney might want to bring his valet, butler, whatever you call it. Ernie will be up for it…oh, and I might try and find a Pay Corps officer we used to know”

My girl coughed. “And me, Gerald. We made a promise, out by Lendal Bridge, if you remember”

I nodded. “Aye. Three to stack. I remember, love”

Andy spoke up. “What’s this for, Mr Barker?”

“Gerald, son. Just something we should have done years ago, but I got a little lost in my thoughts for a while. I went through a bit of unpleasantness in Forties, and none of us has ever had the… Had the understanding, aye, that’s the word, the understanding to be able to go over and visit the lads we lost. So Pete here is sorting out little bus, like, and we’ll take a bit of a holiday drive”

“Flanders?”

“Wrong war, son! No, we’ll go through there, but it’s more Normandy, Belgium, Germany…”

That place. That stink. No, we had no choice.

“Germany, aye, and up to Denmark. People to visit, places to see”

Titch was nodding. “Who were you with, Gerald?”

“14th RTR, son. Royal Tank Regiment, D+2 from Caen to Flensburg at end. Er, ladies, June the 8th 1944 in Normandy to surrender by Germans on May 4th 1945”

Pete looked up at that. “Isn’t May 8th VE Day?”

“Aye, but Jerry had chucked it in to Monty on the 4th. Yanks and Russians got a bit precious, so had to have separate… separate…”

Valerie had her hand on my arm. “Are you sure you are up for this, love?”

I thought of Bob, the girls, Mam and Dad, sitting by them in the cemetery as Val set out the tub of bright bulbs and blooms, and yes, I was sure. She wasn’t finished, though.

“Would you be up for one more?”

Susie seemed a little worried at that, and Val noticed. “No, love, I don’t think you’ll be unsafe. I mean, I know the people who’ll be with you, and, well, they’ve not exactly shown themselves up so far, have they? I just think, well, let them see we’re grateful”

It was agreed, and the next day at work I dug out a contact from the legion and gave him a quick telephone call. Three days later, he confirmed name and address, and on the promise of a pint one night I got a phone number as well. He picked up on the third ring.

“Hello, my name is Gerald Barker. You may not remember me, Captain Flanagan, but you spoke up for a good friend some years ago. I have an offer for you”

CHAPTER 51
The voice was shaky, but the accent was the same. “Be so kind as to refresh my----oh, yes. Colchester? The homosexual Warrant Officer? Arkwright?”

“Wainwright. Bob. I were there as witness”

“Yes. I remember now. Tall chap, red hair?”

I laughed. “Not any more, Captain”

A croaking laugh in reply. “Maurice, please. Those days are long gone, along with my own hair, I am afraid. What can I do for you? Oh, and how is WO Wainwright?”

My silence must have gone on a beat too long.

“I am sorry, er, Gerald. It comes to all of us”

I saw no reason to enlighten him. “We were just wondering, Maurice, if you wanted to join us later in the year. Bob can’t… can’t join us, but we felt that we needed to retrace our journey of the 40s, go back to see places we did when we were younger, like. Pay respects”

“And you thought of me? Very kind of you”

“Well, you were right good for Bob, and he can’t come, and we’re organising a small group”

“I remember two Officers with you, Gerald, and another trooper. Are they in the party?”

“Yes, all three”

“Then how am I to be held worthy in such company? I was a mere accountant”

“You were man who stood up for Bob, you were man who kept him out of glasshouse, and this trip is about Bob”

And Harry, and Wilf, and even poor, stupid, fastidious Philip, and hundreds of thousands of miserable, starved bastards in Germany, and that farmer and his family, and Matthew’s mate, and so many more.

“What it is is taking ferry over from Portsmouth to France, near Caen, aye? Then down to city, up through Belgium, bit of Germany and Danish border. We’ve got a proper little bus, with a driver, his lad’s a squaddy, REME, like, so he wants a look-in on what his lad might have to do”

There was a pause before Flanagan spoke again. “I wasn’t there, Gerald, not when it was actually taking place, but I did pass through… Yes. If you give me date and place, then yes, it would be an honour. Thank you”

We made the arrangements, and on Susie’s next trip down to see her doctor, I sat with Rodney in a pretentious coffee place that had a silly Italian-sounding name and served rubbish tea.

“Contacted that Pay Corps Captain, Rodney, asked him along. Should be room in bus”

“Yes, and I have two more strangers to add, if you do not mind. Charles has expressed a desire to revisit old haunts, which is an unfortunately apt word, as has his brother. They have both returned more recently, and so they have a degree of local knowledge that will most certainly be of some use. A sort of boys’ club jolly, what?”

“Well, there’s Susie as well, Rodney. Don’t think she’d be right happy with that description”

“How is she coming along?”

“Fine, by her account. We’ve got her new passport, and she says Charles and his lad have given her first official diagnosis. She just needs second, and there’s a private clinic that’ll have a word with her for a small fee”

“Ah. I could always—“

“No, thank you, but no. I said same thing, like, and her mam, Valerie, just says not for us, and she’ll make peace properly with her daughter, and that means helping her be her daughter properly, and then she spoils it all by laughing at how the words mix up, and then she only starts crying. I do not understand women, Rodney, not at all”

He stared at his cup for a minute, then spoke without looking up. “I would have made a comment about not being without them, but I find I am missing my own lady dreadfully, and with your own circumstances it would have been churlish to say such a thing. Our lives continue, though, my dear friend. Oh my…”

I passed him a paper napkin to wipe up the slight spill of tea from the side of his mouth, and he smiled, only a little awry.

“Not quite as chipper as we were, my boy”

“None of us are, pal, none of us. Let’s take this trip, aye? While we can. Oh, look, I went out down that big bookshop you showed me, got these”

I don’t know what had possessed me, but I had managed to find some basic phrase books as well as a European road atlas. I knew Pete would most likely have his own, but I was actually looking forward to following our route in a wider context. When you are going from place to place, you only see a strip, a linear slice of map either side of your route, and it is hard to picture the wider world that extends beyond your sight. When the Canadians were clearing Antwerp’s approaches, I had only had a vague idea of what it had involved, but an initial look at the estuary’s islands had shocked me. What an awful place to have to fight. The language books, though, were different. I made a decision to use them by showing the pages to the foreigners rather than trying to pronounce the lingo.

Pete was subdued at our next meeting, which was another Sunday’s dinner at the Ship. Andrew was along, his relationship with Susie seeming to have settled into something a lot more relaxed than it had been, and my girl herself was a lot quieter now. Not subdued, just less prickly. From the moment we had first met, she had reacted almost in advance of every imagined slight, but now she seemed to be settling into her skin. I had been doing a lot of reading, as could be expected, especially about people like her, because it wasn’t something I had ever considered I would encounter. In fact, I hadn’t considered the idea full stop, but there she was now, living, breathing and undercooking my meals. What else could I do but my best to try and understand her?

Val opened the issue.

“Very quiet today, Pete”

“Yeah. Lad’s got his posting”

That didn’t sound good. I ran through the bases I could remember. “Sennelager? Bielefeld?”

“No. Bloody Afghanistan”

Charcoal flesh and shining teeth… no. “He’s not teeth, though”

Why use that word after those memories? Hell. Pete shrugged. “That’s what I’m telling myself, that he’s not going out under fire to do recoveries. It’ll be a base workshop, that’s all. Not what you had, mate”

Change the subject. “Aye, on that note, we’ve got our final numbers for trip. There’ll be me and the lass here, her two quacks, Rodney, Matthew, me, Ernie and Maurice”

Val looked up. “Who’s Maurice?”

“Er, old friend of Bob’s. Pete, he didn’t sound too well on phone”

“Not a problem, Gerald. Bus is one I use for hospital trips, got a hoist on it”

“You cheeky so and so! We’re not that old!”

That little barb seemed to break his mood, and I kept it as light as I could after that. He looked over the remains of his dinner to Susie’s mother. “You not coming, Val?”

“No, not this time. Got my own job, can’t get that much time off. Why, you asking?”

Pete looked a little flustered, but recovered well. “No, just sorting rooms in hotels and that for first few days, need to know who’s going to be there”

Val was straight to the point as she drove her daughter and me home after the meal.

“Definitely someone there, Gerald. Definitely. He going to be OK on trip with his lad away?”

I gave the only answer I could.

“I really don’t know, love”

It was quite a nice little bus, I had to admit, with no back bench seat, the space taken up with a ramp and miniature crane for wheelchairs. Val had dropped us both back at Pete’s yard, and as we boarded in the early dawn she smiled and handed a small box to her daughter.

“Sort of pressie for both of you, really. One of those digital cameras, so you can send us some decent snaps of trip. Got your laptop, girl?”

“Yes, Mam, and clean knickers!”

“Aye, well. Gerald?”

“Aye?”

“You keep her safe”

Hugs, some tears, and we were off, just Ernie, Susie and myself at first, with Pete’s young lad Ashley as second driver, then a long, long run down the A1, the M1, and so many other roads I ended up lost even after the sun was fully up. I’d never been a big driver, taking the train everywhere, so I had only a limited idea of the road layout much beyond Leeds or Doncaster. We passed the latter, then Coventry, Oxford, Winchester, so many other towns, with a couple of what Pete called comfort breaks in pretty dire motorway service areas, Susie seemingly attached by some unsuspected surgical procedure to her mobile phone. There was a first sight of the sea at last, a muddy area, buildings crowding in, and finally we came off a big roundabout with a pub next to it to be directed to join a queue of other coaches and small buses. An immense ferry stood at the quayside, but my eyes were busy looking for the rest of our party.

“Dear boy!”

I turned to take Matthew’s hand, Rodney beside him supporting himself on a polished black walking stick with a brass head. The latter grinned, slightly awkwardly.

“Not exactly the swagger stick of old, what? I would have brought my shooting stick, but, well, one-handed operation is a mite difficult. My man is over there, with a picnic”

“We stopped…”

“Gerald, dear boy, those places are crimes against manners, decency and taste. We have a kettle, a pot and fresh milk”

Ernie laughed out loud. “Aye, and I’ve brought proper Yorkshire tea!”

Rodney nodded. “I would have expected no less. Charles and Julian have departed to avail themselves of the—ah, here they come. Oh!”

Two figures were coming across the huge expanse of the vehicle waiting area, but one, Julian, was pushing another figure in a wheelchair, and there was only one person it could be.

“Rodney!”

“Julian, dear boy. Bringing your work with you?”

“Not at all, dear chap: this is one of yours, I believe. His carers spotted us, I can’t imagine how, and he is part of our little swan”

The figure in the chair grinned, and wheezed out a comment about braying toffs in a Channel ferry port, and of course it was Maurice. I took both of his hands.

“Thank you for coming, my friend”

“No, thank you for thinking of me”

Rodney smiled. “Under better circumstances than our last meeting, what?”

Maurice shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. That occasion gave something I had never really had before, and that’s pride. Not the commonest of commodities in my profession. Now, as you can see, I am… ah. You have indeed prepared well, assuming that the bus I see is ours”

Pete was just walking over to us. “Right, we’re all set to go. Boarding in about twenty minutes. These boys the last of you?”

“Aye, Pete”

“OK. You must be Maurice. Anything else we need to think about, any other special requirements apart from the hoist?”

Wheezing. “No, apart from the weakness in my legs I am fine. I am neither incontinent nor gaga”

Pete bellowed with laughter. “You’ll fit right in here, mate! Now, let’s get ourselves settled. All aboard the Skylark!”

Stop-go driving, and a passport check. A ramp down into an echoing metal cavern and then a lift to more comfortably decorated and better-lit accommodation. Fast food ignored in response to a gigantic ‘picnic’ provided in no less than three hampers by our officers. Fresh air over the open-air deck at the stern as we made our way out of Portsmouth Harbour, the old defences pressing in on the narrow exit as we passed warships old and new, my memories of a previous departure from that place shuddering with the ship’s engines as we gathered pace for the open sea.

It wasn’t only the engines, I realised.

“Susie?”

“Just a bit worried, Gerald. Nowt, really. But… Look. First time out of country for me”

“First time for me, really. Last time were a bit sort of unconventional as travel goes”

“Aye, aye, but look. Got passport, got all of that sorted, aye, but suddenly, well, I’m here, we’re going, and what if Frogs get all precious or summat like that? I mean, you can see what I am, anyone can!”

“Aye. Lass that’s taking mates to pay respects to the lost, that’s what. You’re not alone, lass. Remember? Piling rifles. More than three today. Sit by me, what can go wrong?”

She hugged me, but remained a little out of sorts until she finally fell asleep in a deck chair out on the sundeck, a book slipping from her hand as Maurice dozed beside her in his wheelchair. The rest of us found conversation stalling as we moved across the Bay of the Seine, ships scattered around us, the coastline ahead coming into view looking so different from the last time. No plumes of smoke, no artillery, just the steady throb of the engines and the cries of the gulls. No piles of dead to avoid either, as Pete steered us out of the hold onto a twisty little set of lanes towards the French passport booths, Susie’s trembling increasing with each yard driven.

He boarded the bus, the classic Frog with his moustache and silly hat, and a not-so-silly pistol at his hip. Pete said something in French to him which brought a sharp nod, our driver calling back to us “Gave him the SP on what we’re here for, lads!”

He passed down the bus, and to my surprise insisted on shaking hands with every one of us as he checked our little booklets. We were the last, and he had a seriously strong grip as he shook my hand before turning to Susie. A prolonged stare, her trembling rising to a peak, and then he smiled in the gentlest way imaginable, took her hand and kissed the back of it.

“Bienvenue en France, Mam’selle!”

CHAPTER 52
He took his leave, Susie still trembling as she sat open-mouthed. It was Charles who broke the silence.

“What have I been telling you, my dear? You must have faith. People are in the main decent”

Ernie called back “Aye, but arseholes, pardon my French, stick in the memory longer. Pete. Where we off to now?”

“Short trips, lads, Susie. Pegasus Bridge museum and a cuppa at the café”

Memories were rousing themselves as we drove: smashed gliders in a field, a small child staring blankly into space as lads tried to tempt her with chocolate or boiled sweets. We parked up, Pete in full tourist guide flow.

“After the war, they replaced the bridge, but the old one was preserved. The new one’s bigger, but they made it to look just about the same, and the café—what the fucking hell?”

I couldn’t see what he was staring at, just an old Centaur on a little ramp, and then it came into view as we walked back over the new bridge. The old building I remembered, with a huge Pegasus and rider painted over the door, was now matched by a newer building across the road, the Three Planers or something. Rodney muttered “Three Gliders” but that wasn’t the issue. Larger than life was some sort of plastic statue of a soldier, but it was a bloody Yank. Ernie tried to collar one of the waiters, but he just shrugged and walked away.

“What’s up, Gerald?”

“Statue, Susie. There were no Yanks over this way. Too many folk seem to want to write us out of war, gets a little annoying at times”

Ernie muttered something very rude before turning his back on the stupid toy soldier.

“See that tank, Susie?”

“Aye?”

“That’s not what we had. That’s a Centaur, different build. Liberty engine, not as quick, and that’s a CS gun”

“CS?”

“Close support. Ours were 75s, quick-firing. Shoot straight at things, especially with Ginge here in hot seat, but we could mix shot or shell. Er, armour-piercing for enemy tanks, like, or just HE, high explosive. That one could just lob shells”

He was fumbling at his waist for some reason, and suddenly bent forward, dropping his trousers and underpants to flash his naked backside at the Three Gliders. Calm as anything, he pulled them back up and as he fastened his belt said with a smile “Shall we see what their tea is like in the other place? Susie, close your gob, you’ll catch flies”

I pushed a giggling Maurice over the little crossing as bicycles crossed with us, and an elderly woman who seemed to be something more than a waitress just grinned as she served us what turned out to be a very decent pot of tea. I looked over at Ernie, still poker-faced, and quietly said “I’ve still got those photos of lads in wagon in Germany”

That finally cracked him up, and of course I had to explain to the others, especially about hiding from Mam the picture of a row of bare bums hanging over the side of a lorry that had caused so much amusement down the pub with Dad and Cyril and all the other old comrades, the boys who had also gone to see the elephant. Madame was back in a minute or two, and set out a tray of little glasses.

“Calvados, my friends. Our compliments and thanks”

Matthew picked up his glass, looking round our company.

“Gentlemen, and lady. To absent friends”

Maurice spoke up. “And to those yet present. Cheers!”

We drank, all except Ashley. I caught Pete’s eye, and he winked. “Managerial privilege, mate!”

We didn’t really go into the Big City, as we had thought of it in ’44, but bypassed Caen on a modern road. I began to recognise more and more of the terrain, especially a rise in the ground to the South East of the city.

“Pete?”

“Yes, Gerald?”

“How much time have you put into research on trip?”

“Er, did a bit of reading”

“Got a local map?”

“Yeah, hang on… Here you go”

It was from some French company called IGN, and it was more than detailed enough. He sat back with me as I worked out what was what, and then began calling out directions to his lad. We found a little lane, and left Ashley with the bus as Pete wheeled Maurice in his chair, and then we were there. It was a strange feeling, so little having really changed. The land was the same, of course, and the gate was new, but…

Susie was at my shoulder, Ernie beside her.

“I didn’t see much of this, Ginge, you know that”

“Aye, pal. Lucky so and so that you are”

I couldn’t ’speak for nearly five minutes, Susie taking my hand in as simple an act of love as I could ever have imagined. It was young Ashley who broke the mood.

“What’s this place, then?”

Rodney tried to soften his words, but it was clearly hard for him as well.

“Operation Goodwood, young man. See those fields down there? Imagine them ripe with wheat, the heat of summer, and rather a lot of our armour attacking through them”

“Like a charge sort of thing?”

“Like a charge sort of thing, yes. Where were they, Gerald?”

A slap on the back of my head, an instruction to do my fucking job, the sound of shot hitting glacis. Burning men. Pull it together, lad.

“Aye, Ashley, like a charge. Ernie and me, we were recon troop. Scouts, aye? Harry got us parked up not far from that gate. See trees? Germans were in there, and other side of gate as well. Tanks went in, Germans had a line of anti-tank guns. It were… It weren’t a good day”

He looked as if he had something more to say, but Ernie closed him down. “Tanks burn, son, and they’re hard to get out of”

I could see the realisation slowly hit him. “And you were up here…?”

“Aye, son. We got to watch”

“Shit. Not like the films, is it?”

Rodney sighed. “Never a truer word, young man. Gerald, perhaps, yes? Pastures new? Peter, where are we bound?”

“Well, we’re going back up towards the bridge, pay some respects, then I have a bit of a drive out to Rouen. Got a Formula One booked up. Cheap as chips, those places, but no frills”

Matthew roared. “We have all slept in far worse, dear boy! Mount, chaps! Start engines!”
Rodney peered at him. “Did you perchance acquire more of the local distillation, dear boy? Manners!”

Well, he had indeed found some Calvados, and sampled it, and I wasn’t that steady on my feet when we laid the wreaths Rodney had packed in yet another of his hampers. It took a little while to find the boys from the other troop who had been wiped out in that little action with 21st Panzer, but we found them, and Pete helped Maurice to his feet as Matthew set the poppies in place. Three steps back into our line, heads bowed as one until Maurice’s voice rang out as strongly as he could manage.

“Party! Ten-SHUN!”

Arms swung up as one, all save Rodney’s, and we held the salute for three seconds, our civilian friends standing quietly by.

Pete finished the driving for the day, and found us a simple place to eat that had a vegetable buffet that went well with the little bit of steak they cooked to our order, even if that cooking was a bit underdone, and I don’t remember much of the rest of the evening as we seemed to have disposed of a lot of bottles by the time I fell asleep. I think Susie put me to bed.

She was really chirpy the next morning, while in my turn I was glad that the breakfast was so Spartan. I really couldn’t have faced a fry-up, and the others weren’t much better. I raised a hand for attention as we supped rubbish tea or shudderingly strong coffee, and called for hush.

“Right, you lot. I think that should be it for a while. Yesterday were hard, but it’s not fair on young’uns here to get smashed every night. We’ve paid us respects. Time to show respect for friends”

Matthew looked a little ashamed, while Maurice was just green. Both doctors simply nodded, while Ernie tried as cheeky a grin as he could manage with his hangover.

“Aye! Happen better a clear head in bus, what with young Ashley’s driving! Where to, Pete?”

“Well, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover up to Denmark, and from what I gathered the krauts went backwards a bit quick after Falaise, so this morning we’re going to have a little bit of a tourist trip, a proper one, and then head past Paris. You don’t want to go there, do you?”

Susie perked up at that, but then shook her head. “We’ll save that one for another trip, like. This is pilgrimage, in way, not really a pleasure trip”

Pete nodded. “Aye, you’re right there. OK, this bit is a tourist bit, but let’s think of it as a mood lightener”

He drove us this time, perhaps in deference to our hangovers, and it was rather smoother than Ashley’s style, but I was still a little fragile. We headed SE from Rouen, and I had to stifle my own laughter as we passed through miles of wide-open and level fields. Julian looked across at me as I snorted.

“Penny for them, Gerald?”

“Oh, nowt really, just looking at this countryside and thinking how good it would be for tanks, and then catching myself and remembering how good it actually were!”

“Yes, but I rather believe I prefer its current mood, old boy”

I could find no argument with that. Pete turned off at last, and Susie gave an audible gasp before breaking into a wide grin.

“Pete, thank you!”

I frowned at her, puzzled.

“Oh Gerald! You’ll see!”

A place called Giverny it was, and of course I recognised the pictures that were reproduced all over the place, and Pete had it spot on yet again. We took our stroll in the water gardens that had so obsessed Monet, and it was the contrast that struck me as Susie went mad with her camera taking shots to mail to her mother, or maybe just for herself, and we stood in little groups just absorbing the peace, even with the crowds that seemed to be on a mission to walk every inch of the paths. I ended up beside Pete, and he nodded to me as I smiled my gratitude.

“Gerald, there are ways of coping with crap, and having a skin-full is sort of traditional”

“Aye. Been that way more than once”

Been that way for months was what I meant to say, those months lost after my love was taken away, but he understood my meaning without the need for more words and deeper pain.

“Pete… What this is, like, what this is is an idea of how the world can be, how it should be, aye? Without idiots”

He started to grin. “Yup, that’s the point, and I just thought that I should show you what a real painter can give the world, as opposed to a failed one!”

I actually hugged him. Susie was getting to me, it seemed.

CHAPTER 53
We ate that night in a pizzeria next door to another cheap chain hotel, just outside Lille. The restaurant offered what I was learning to call wi-fi, and Susie was able to run a real-time conversation with her mother through her computer.

“Sent her pics of lily ponds, Gerald. She’s quite chuffed!”

“Told her about pressie?”

“No, I’ll save that for back home. Make a thing of it, prodigal…daughter comes home, like”

She had splashed out what I thought of as a lot of money on a scarf from the souvenir shop at Giverny, a print of one of Monet’s more colourful paintings of the flowers. I’d shuddered at the cost, but she wouldn’t take my advice.

“Look, love, this is my first ever foreign trip, I’m with friends, I’m going back to a Mam that’s not only accepted me but done it with love, real love. Never thought that could happen, never, so if I splash a bit too much cash, well, you’ll just have to sort me out some overtime, aye?”

There was chocolate mousse for pud, and the beer came in proper-sized glasses, so what else could I do but toast friends again, absent as well as present.

I’d talked through our route with Pete, and so I knew what was on my plate the next day. Sleep was a long time coming that night, and I don’t think it ever really arrived. I felt my age in the morning, and both doctors subjected me to some close stares before they simply nodded at each other. Matthew in his turn was quieter than I had seen him ever be, even after losing his friend that brutal day. Rodney produced some maps and books from his suitcase as we rode into Belgium, Pete at the wheel.

“Ashley, Susie, you two may not be aware of what happened here some years ago, so I have some study materials for your enlightenment. Now, Hitler had a totally unrealistic plan to drive his armies between the Commonwealth and American armies…”

I half-listened as he spoke, watching the posts at the side of the road, every third one seeming to hold a perched buzzard awaiting a road-kill breakfast, then I caught the word ‘Cromwell’. Rodney had a book on tanks open.

“This is the one that Gerald and Ernie were in, and this one…”

Ashley spoke up. “That’s a Tiger. Made a model kit of one when I were a lad”

Ernie roused himself. “Aye, and Ginge there, Gerald, he turned one of those buggers to scrap”

Ashley looked round. “What? In one of our pieces of crap?”

Matthew coughed, with just a hint of his usual humour. “David slew Goliath, dear boy, and Gerald most certainly slew that beast. Gerald?”

“Were luck, really. Can’t, couldn’t get round through armour, so shot up bits I could, so we had to stop him first. Jammed his turret, then broke his tracks”

Charles muttered quietly “Nothing too difficult then…” as he shook his head. Ernie laughed.

“We were a team, lad. I mean, no false modesty, I were quick with breech, but Ginge, well, he rally had an eye for a shot, and…”

He paused, the enthusiasm slowly draining from him. “And we lost a lot of mates to the bastards that day, an all. Bugger. Pete, where we off to?”

Our driver called back “Little village Gerald remembered. Different weather now, though”

Snow. Snow and as wonderful a Christmas dinner as I could ever remember having. Something showed in my face, and Susie’s expression changed, a smile lighting up everything except her eyes.

“I spy with my little eye something beginning with ‘S’!”

It took us ten minutes before she revealed her word—‘shitehawk’.

Julian drawled out “I say! Shitehawks are Indian kites, not Buteo buteo! Unfair, I say!”

“Well, up yours, Doctor! Pete! Time for coffee and cake yet?”

“In a bit, girl. Just going to get off main roads for a bit, so I’ll have to pay a bit more attention”

“OK! I spy with my little eye…”

I realised she was simply trying to break the mood, but it was not really working. I had never been a driver, not for any great distances, but I understood how a map compressed itself to a narrow strip either side of one’s actual route, as if the journey were a straight line divorced from the wider world. It hadn’t been quite like that in the war, as we were a reconnaissance unit, but we had still ended up with a rather parochial view of the land we crossed. Our parish was our unit and the land it occupied, and everything else was just rumour and fear. Yes, I knew where we were headed, not too far from Dinant and Namur, and that was what had kept me awake the night before. The dreams were back, the German lay on his back in snow no longer clean, no longer white.

Susie got her cake stop, and then I tried to doze as Pete wrestled our bus through smaller lanes, and then. And just then.

“That’s the spot there, Pete. See house down towards that little bridge? We were parked… Ernie… where that swing park is?”

He looked down the road, and once again I had to remember how little he had actually been able to see.

“Aye. Happen that’s house with net curtains over there”

“Aye. I can see dead ground behind hedge. They’ve done it up nicely, Ernie!”

Lively words, but my eye was on the road surface, seeking any stains still in the tarmac even though my common sense was telling me it must have been dug up a dozen times since 1944. Ashley was still curious, in an irritating way, until Ernie rounded on him.

“What were special about here? I’ll bloody tell you! Two fucking SS bastards tried to do us over, and tried to kill Bob, and Ginge there, he just shoots one of them, and I pray to God you never have to find out how much blood is in a man’s body, because that was the day we did, and Wilf… Wilf had just done us a great Christmas dinner, roast goose and trimmings, and then we had that to deal with”

Ashley couldn’t take the hint. “Wilf? He not want to come”

I sighed, as Susie took my hand. “We left Wilf in their back garden. Anti-tank gun, we think, or SP. Ashley, son, it’s not like plastic kits. Wilf is reason we’re here”

I led our party down to the garden, pointing out how the ground sloped down from the hedge to a little depression before rising again to the front wall of the house.

“We were hull down, so bottom part of tank is protected by ground. What hit us came from… Rodney, through side, out through floor, what do you think?”

He lifted his hand to shade his eyes. “There, dear boy. Small rise, copse, woods behind. If it were myself, I’d have man-hauled a gun to that point, no noise, wait for a target to show itself firing on their vehicles”

“About right angle, Rodney. Aye. Think you’re spot on. Ashley, we were just here, but we’d found whitewash, and, er, liberated net curtains, shape, shine, shadow, aye? Camouflaged really well, but as soon as we fire it’s like a big flag, here we are!”

“Excuse me…”

There was a middle-aged woman at the gate to the house’s drive. “You are English?”

Ernie nodded. “Aye. Er, I mean yes. English. From Yorkshire”

“Ah. You were here in 1944?”

Some of us nodded, and she smiled. “I was very young, and we were, we had how you say? We had evacuated, then on our way home, before the Boche returned. It was not a St Sylvestre of the best”

Matthew nodded, and said something in French. Her eyes widened. “Oh! That poor young man!”

I started to say something about Germans in stolen uniforms, but Rodney raised his hand.

“No, my friend, she doesn’t mean him. You know of our loss, Madame?”

She smiled, in a very gentle way, crows-feet settling round her eyes. “We returned a few days after the Boche were sent home again. Was that your char in our—just there?”

I nodded, and she tried to laugh. “You stole our curtains, but somehow it is not in our hearts to condemn you! Please, take a meal with us, and then I will take you to see your friend”

She took us into her kitchen, which was certainly in a better state than I remembered, and disappeared to make a telephone call after making sure we had what was very nearly a decent cup of tea each. She returned with a better smile.

“Mademoiselle, Messieurs, please to follow me”

About three hundred yards from her house was a pub, café sort of place, and someone had found a Union flag, and there was a man in a suit with a chain over his shoulders who turned out to be the local mayor. He shook our hands, and then a couple of girls brought out beers, soup, steak and chips, a pile of bits of bread, and Mister Mayor spoke a few words in French to what was quickly becoming a small crowd. Rodney did the translation for me as he spoke.

“They left their homes twice, and the first time they came back the Germans had left it in ruins, but come back they did, and then, well, he’s talking about sacrifice, loss and courage. And debts, dear boy. You should speak. I can interpret for you”

Before I could object, he rose, saying a few things in French before turning to me. “Trooper Gerald Barker, Royal Tank Regiment”

What to say? I cobbled something together, Rodney repeating it in French, and I am sure he said more than I did, and I really suspect he mentioned that German I shot, but I got through it, because with me were so many comrades. Bob was there in spirit, and Harry, and, well, Wilf was still there. The mayor replied, and Matthew did the speaking that time.

“My friends, from England, our friends, our saviours. Not many of us were here during those awful times, but we have parents, we have grandparents, they have told us. We are the lucky generation, for we have not had to see what they did, experience such… such unpleasantness. For that blessing, we owe such men as these. Gentlemen, this village is now your village. This is your home, your place of refuge from any storm, of welcome and amity—friendship. We raise glasses—oh, chaps, a toast. To courage, to steadfast endurance, to our English friends!”

He turned to me with a grin. “They only had about twenty minutes to arrange this, boys, but they’ve got a bed for each of us, and I rather suspect we have a long evening ahead of us! Rather like the Belgian villages I remember—oh, dear boy! You are blushing!”

A plump, enthusiastic, grateful girl. So sorry, Tricia my love.

The woman we had first spoken to, Marie, came over to us. “If you would please to accompany me…”

Another short walk down the lane took us to the local church, a solid little building in grey stone with a slate roof and a low steeple.

“They are all over here, my friends”

The headstones were familiar, far too many of them for such a small community, but we walked the ranks and files to make sure that we gave each old comrade a nod of recognition, a salute of respect, before we found the familiar badge.

“Wilfrid Connor Braithwaite, 14th Royal Tank Regiment. Killed in action…”

My words failed me then, tears flowing too freely to see the rest. Susie was there, and Ernie, all rifles stacked in threes, and they led me from the church yard as Pete brought the poppy wreath we had carried so far.

I got very drunk that night. If the German came to pay a visit, I can’t remember.

CHAPTER 54
The next morning I had a hangover, of course, but we all did, so while Pete did something with the bus engine we pushed Maurice down the street in his chair for another look at our little garden. The café had done us a continental style breakfast which actually included a lot of sliced meats and cheeses rather than just funny bread and jam, so said hangover was ebbing, at least in my case. I could have murdered a bacon sandwich.

Ashley was quite apologetic that morning, seeming a little bowled over by the welcome given to us by the local people.

“Son, look at it this way. Where do you live?”

“Out at Foxwood”

“Newer estate, aye? With Mam and Dad?”

“Yeah, looking for us own place, though, me and Stacey. My girl, that is. It’s a bit boring out there”

I nodded. “Right, lad. You got a local pub?”

“Dick Turpin”

“OK. Now, imagine you’re about ten. Who do you live with at home? Just Mam and Dad?”

“Aye, ‘Chelle moved out a year ago”

“Big sister?”

“Aye”

“Right, there you are, ten years old, and suddenly the sky falls in. There’s explosions, bombs, feels like end of world, and then the place is full of foreign soldiers. They take everything that’s not nailed down, they take your neighbours away, some of them they shoot in front of you, just like that. Your pub becomes theirs. And they’re there for four years. Four years in which food gets shorter, and you don’t get school, and people you know disappear in the night and are never heard of again. And after four years, suddenly, they all clear off. Can you imagine that?”

“Aye. Seen films like that”

“Right, then. The reason they leave is because they’ve been pushed away by another set of foreigners, who’ve come to help you, and when the first lot clear off they smash everything they can, take owt that’s not nailed down, and then…”

I looked across at the dip behind the hedge, remembering what I had heard about the farmer and his family, how they wouldn’t miss any of the food Wilf had cooked up for us.

“Then they come back, with more tanks, and more bombs, and this time they shoot your Dad and they rape your sister and your mother before shooting them, until finally they’re forced out again and you’re left to pick up pieces with a few folk who managed to hide well enough not to get found, not to get killed along with all the others. And you bury your dead, and you bury the dead lads that came to help you, and you might one day stop hating, but you never, ever forget a debt. That’s what this is, Ashley”

I walked over to the middle of the lane, pointing at the tarmac. “I shot a man here, son. Just like Ernie said. I watched him kick and writhe and spray blood all over ground, all over snow, and then I ran up and shoved muzzle of revolver into mouth of another man, and if I had remembered to cock the thing again I would most likely have shot him as well, and I see their faces in the night, and Mr Nolan, and Mr Folland, they have their own faces in the night, I’m sure of it. You’ve seen films, son. It wasn’t like that”

Maurice wheezed “Yes, Ashley. I wasn’t here, because my job was shuffling papers somewhere safe, but trust me I have seen enough of the effects of this on others less fortunate than me”

He paused for breath, and I looked at the shell-shocked face of the boy. “You weren’t to know, son, but you do need to think a little. We’ve got somewhere worse coming up in a day or three, and when I say worse, well, I can’t think of any other way to describe it. You’ll know more about that place, I’ll wager”

We took another cup of tea with our lady friend Marie in her spotless kitchen before a round of cheek-kissing and handshakes from the Mayor and what seemed like every adult not at work, and they insisted on putting several cases of beer into the luggage spaces of the bus. We were soon on a much wider road heading for Liège and the German border. Pete was driving for that leg, and I was half asleep next to young Susie, who took my hand.

“I never really understood till now, Gerald. I mean, that night we met, that were a revelation, but this is so much more, dunno, visceral? Those people, some of them were there and, well…”

She squeezed my hand. “Don’t you ever think ill of yourself again, you stupid old hero. Now, I am going to put some sounds on and get some sleep. I’m not used to nights that mad”

“You’ve had a few of those recently with your young man, lass!”

“Aye, but, well, stayed a bit more sober recently. Don’t…”

She squeezed my hand again. “Gerald Barker, you didn’t just liberate this place, if you see what I mean. I got a life from you, and it’s the life I should have had by rights, but without you, shit. That young man, well, I get to fancy him same way as any other lass fancies her lad, not like they said at school, not as a puff or a bumboy, and it’s a bit like pushing against a locked door, and it opens. Got to be careful not to fall, aye?”

She turned to look me in the eye, tears ready to fall. “My young man, as you call him, is the finest lad I’ve ever known that isn’t sitting in this bus. I’m pretty sure he really did start out with me as a bet with his mates, like, but that isn’t what it is now. Yes, I know what we said first day, but we’re past that and that’s the point: I don’t care how we started. Point is where we are now, and he treats me as his lass, and no more and certainly no bloody less than that. I think, Gerald, love, and I mean that word, really mean it, aye? I think, love, that we are getting to same place with you as I’m at, able to see ourselves as we are and not how we think others see us. That’s no small thing, my love. You are a good man, Gerald, one in a fucking million, so don’t you ever forget that, and because of that I’m just an ordinary lass with a decent job and a nice boss, with mates at work and a boyfriend I…and a lad I love to bits who makes me feel wanted and happy and REAL”

She turned away, fumbling with her handbag for tissues, and then she simply pulled her headphones on to shut me out, turning her gaze out of the window.

She still held my hand, though.

We stopped for lunch just into Germany, somewhere near Aachen, and Ernie called out to Rodney “Remember that speech you gave us?”

Rodney muttered something about ‘what speech’ and Ernie repeated back to him his words about not arriving as liberators.

“What were it you said? ‘We have killed their sons and husbands’, weren’t it?”

“Oh yes! I do recall some wag opined that we hadn’t killed enough of them”

“Aye. Percy Scott, that were”

“Ah yes”

Ernie sighed. “Copped one up by Hamm did Percy. Think he’s up in Hannover now. What a shitty war. Here, what’s food like here?”

Sausage and chips, in the end, though Susie had what she called a schnitzel and Ashley a burger. We got a few funny looks from the serving staff, but we didn’t care. We’d done our work well a few years ago, and Susie had made that plain. It was hard to hate, though, for these didn’t seem the same folk as the one I had killed, or those at that place we were heading for. Trust in humanity, Gerald Barker, trust in common decency.

Ashley had the wheel as Pete snored in a back seat, and we made good time on the endless motorways I remembered from our mad dash up to Denmark. We crossed the Rhine north of Cologne, with much less fuss than we had had in 1945, skirted Dortmund and headed towards Paderborn. The country looked clean and prosperous, and I found it hard to reconcile with my memories of burning vehicles and massed columns of marching prisoners. Pete had arranged rooms near a place called Schloss Neuhaus, and he explained that the whole area had been a massive British Army garrison for decades. Matthew nodded.

“Yes, absolutely dear boy, although I am told of one remarkably tactless billeting arrangement. I spent some years in Sennelager and Osnabruck, both very near here. Ashley, my boy, are you familiar with cap badges?”

“What do you mean, Mr Folland?”

“Ah, the callow youth of today. Gerald, the castle—the schloss—in Paderborn was chosen as the headquarters for the 17th/21st Lancers. You are familiar with their regimental badge?”

“Aye, Matthew. Ashley, skull and crossbones, like, with banner reading ‘or glory’. Seen that one?”

“Oh aye! So what were problem, Mr Folland?”

“Quite simply, dear boy, that all of these fine young men in their black berets with a skull and crossbones insignia were stationed in a place that had been till then occupied by the SS. Caused some confusion among the local populace, what?”

Pete was laughing out loud at that one. “Tell me that was deliberate, mate!”

Matthew just grinned. “My lips are sealed, dear boy. Now, a stroll around the castle and then I rather believe we require an early night. We have heavy work ahead of us tomorrow”

It was the part I had been dreading, but it had to be faced. Susie told you what you are, Gerald Barker. Time to prove it.

CHAPTER 55
Pete was driving the bus the next morning, and I caught him giving me a sly look every so often, when he clearly thought I wouldn’t catch him at it, for he broke into a cheery smile each time I looked round quickly. I collared him before I boarded.

“What’s up, pal?”

“What do you mean?”

“You looking at me all queer, like. What’s on your mind?”

He sighed. “Just today’s trip, Gerald. That and a load of things all piling up on each other. It was that little chat you had with young Ashley, in a way. Look: first thing we’re doing today, the first place we’re visiting, is a graveyard. We don’t need to mention the other place, but I look at the lad and all I see is my Pete, and then I see what war did to you lads, and, well, I look at the headstones, and…”

Susie had come up to us just then, and she stepped forward to hug the big man. His arms came up around her, and he lowered his chin onto the top of her head. Her voice was muffled, but still clear.

“I‘ll do this bit, Pete, because Gerald can’t, even though I know he wants to. Thank you for caring about us, and thank you for being such a great Dad. Some of us here never had that, so we need an example now and again of it done right way”

She kissed him gently on the cheek as she disengaged, and did the same to me as she stepped up onto the bus. The more she was out, the more I saw of her, the more I questioned the sanity of those who had insisted she was a boy. I saw my Tricia’s eyes shining behind hers.

She stopped on the top of the stairs. “Pete? Got request for you, for a coffee stop, even if these old buggers don’t drink it. Been looking at the maps, and I would love to see Pied Piper”

He nodded. “Yup, I know where you mean. I’ll see what I can do”

We pulled out of our overnight stop at a fair clip, clearly using the engine to burn off some of his night sweats, and we were soon bowling along at a decent speed, through rolling country with plenty of dark woods on the hillsides. This was looking far more like my expectations of Germany than the rebuilt concrete monstrosities we had passed at the start of the trip, and I wondered if it was because the Germans had folded rather than fought, in the end, as the Russians had flattened the East. Whatever the cause, it was a lovely place, and Susie’s coffee stop was a prize indeed. We parked near a large river that held some islands, and the houses were exactly what old pictures would have shown, with plenty of wood framing and red tiles, and in a way it reminded me of the older parts of home around the Shambles. We stopped long enough for a stretch, and to help Maurice deal with a few of his own hygiene issues while Susie sent Valerie and Andy the obligatory postcards. I just thanked the Almighty that neither she nor Ashley bought one of the noisy whistle thing all the kids seemed to have.

Back on the bus, more gentle hills and fields, and then we could see the bulk of a large town ahead of us. Hannover it was, and thankfully our destination was at the edge of the town, and it was as lovely as such things can be. The entrance was inscribed ‘The land on which this cemetery stands is the gift of the German people for the perpetual resting place of the sailors, soldiers and airmen who are honoured here’ and we took a while to rest our souls before we walked in. Ernie popped into one of the little chapel style buildings to find the register, and with Maurice very, very quiet in his chair we found Percy and left our wreath.

“Help me up, Gerald”

“You sure, Maurice?”

“Absolutely, my friend. We will honour him properly”

Seven of us stood before the stone, set about with flowering shrubs in plots between sweeping avenues of perfectly mown turf. Matthew’s voice rang out.

“Ten—SHUN!”

No caps, so no salute from us, but we stood there for Trooper Scott until Maurice started to sway, and then without a word turned and marched out as best we could. One more of our own saluted. Honoured, as the inscription said. I heard Susie and Ashley whispering as we set off again, and the only words I caught were from her: “Oh, that’s not a big place. Some are a lot bigger”

We bypassed the city, for which I was glad because I just wanted this part of the day over and done with. Not forgotten, never forgotten, it could never be. Just over. Harry wasn’t there, of course, but still…

Heathland, tank warning signs, dark woods that seemed familiar, and a massive firebreak that I recognised as the place we had leaguered in that awful day.

“We’re nearly there, Susie”

“You recognise it?”

“Aye, but back then what we had to go on were smell”

“Eh?”

“We could smell place. From what seemed like miles off. Harry…”

I took a while to find the words. “Harry were our driver. Got out OK when Wilf copped it, but that place… That place killed him just as dead as PAK killed Wilf. Stay with me, lass. Please”

Once again she took my hand as the bus turned right into a large parking area. Pete killed the engine, and all of us just sat for a minute until Ashley spoke up.

“Gents, can I just say that this is one place I have heard of. Could I—could I please just wait with bus?”

Pete raised an eyebrow. “Suddenly sensitive, son?”

Ashley dropped his chin. “It were book we did at school. Anne Frank, aye? This is place… Look, I’m not being daft, am I? I mean, you’ve been to graves, graves of mates, and this isn’t like that. I mean, none of my mates were born, were they, and here’s me upset about a girl in a book!”

Maurice coughed, horribly, but got his words out.

“Are we not your mates, son?”

Ashley was silent for some moments, then nodded. “Thank you. Thank you. That means a lot to me. I were feeling really shit, like, really out of my depth with this…. Look, Mr Barker said it to me, about pub, and sister and Mam, aye? And it got me thinking, about how little I really know, and lads like me we laugh at the old men, like…”

He shook his head. “The lads, lads like me. We haven’t got a fucking clue, have we?”

Rodney sighed. “My dear boy. My friend, I pray you never have occasion to gather such clues. By all means, stay with the transport, but think of how helpful a lad like you could be with Maurice’s chair. Think on, and if you wish come with us and feel worthy. That is what you have just demonstrated, an understanding too many fail to achieve. Come with us, if you wish, help Maurice and be welcome”

Not much more was said as we walked towards the little group of buildings. Not much, really, in facilities, but they had marked the sites on a map, and there was a museum of sorts, and, well, all I wanted was to be outdoors and, if possible, somewhere else entirely, but Harry needed his farewell.

There was a reasonably smooth path through the woods, heather everywhere like up on the grouse moors, and now and again there was an outline in the ground where a hut had once been. I moved over by Ashley, and talked him through it.

“Germans had called a truce, son, and a lot of the guards were still here, but they’d stopped feeding folk”

Rodney nodded. “I remember that particular advice, Gerald. What, Julian? You told us we would kill them if we fed them”

“Yes indeed. Ashley, my good fellow, you have to imagine the place as it was in ’45. The plan tells us we are at the main gate, or somewhere near it. There are Huns in uniform with spare fat on them, but we are not to touch them. There are people crying as we lock the gates behind us, and I do not just mean the inmates for I saw many of our own men in no fit state for active service just then.

“Some people wander, aimlessly. The more active mob us, begging for food. The others sit or lie… They lie, and many of those one knows immediately will never move again. There are huts, shabby, filthy things, and they are full of even more human wreckage. There are…”

He stopped abruptly, a sob escaping him. “And I am supposed to be a healer, and there is nothing I can do for these wretches, and then, over there, behind the places where there were huts, there are stacks, piles, drifts of corpses. Too many to count, too many to register fully on the senses, too many even to be able to see as individual human beings. And your friend, Gerald? Ernie? I think I remember him. He drove for us”

“Aye, Julian, happen he did. Ashley, Susie… Look. There were too many to pick up and bury, so we ended up… Harry could drive vehicle with tracks, obviously, and they had bulldozers, and that’s what Harry---Maurice, you got some water in your bag? Ta”

I waited till the boy had finished, which thankfully was into the grass and not on the path, and laid an arm over his shoulder.

“Here, rinse your mouth out, get rid of taste. Over now, aye? Nowt left to bring up”

Susie passed him some tissues for the snot and the tears, and after a while he was able to walk on with us. When he had his breathing right again, he just asked “Harry?”

Ernie nodded. “Aye. Said he couldn’t get smell out of his boots. Had… had an accident on way home, with a pistol”

Rodney gave yet another sigh. “He wasn’t the only one who had an accident. Some of the guards had them as well”

Ernie’s grin was not a happy one. “Aye. Like Percy Scott said, not enough of the fuckers”

I remembered that morning, three plumper bodies naked on the ground, Bill and Ernie saying absolutely nothing. I looked round the park we were passing through, for that was what it felt like, even with the hut outlines and the low mounds of the mass grave, heather bright on top. German teenagers from some school party were passing, and I couldn’t help asking myself, was it your grandmother in the heels and the stylish hat, or your grandfather in the suit with the velvet collar, picking and stacking as Harry drove? Birds sang in the trees, bees droned, young people laughed, and the smell was in my nostrils.

We put a wreath to Harry on one of the stones by the entrance, and Pete looked around at the happy school kids.

“Gents, Susie, I think it’s time we got out of this fucking place”

Susie joined me in bed that night, in some plastic motel north of Hamburg. Nothing silly, of course, but neither of us could face being alone with all those dead.

CHAPTER 56
The bus was quiet that morning, Ashley seeming a little lost. Pete was driving, so I made my way down to where the young man was staring out of the window. He’d said nothing over breakfast, and apart from a quiet ‘morning’ nothing at all since we got up. I slipped into the seat beside him.

“Bit quiet today, son”

He looked down at his hands. “Bit thinking to do, Mr Barker. Not much sleep last night”

“You seemed to take that place hard, lad”

A quick, searching look at my own face, and then his gaze was back out of the window.

“Not what I expected, Mr Barker. I mean… Look, we did the Holocaust at school, history like, and it were all a bit long time ago, far away. Not real, like. Then they gave us the book, the diary, and the lads laughed at me cause they said it were a girly book, all mooning over young lad. No action, like. I think they wanted Nazis kicking door in every five minutes. And I just kept reading. It were the contrast, like”

He shook his head. “Look, we spoke about Dick Turpin and that, and my sister and Mam, and that were it. I read the book, and I kept seeing ‘Chelle there, hiding, like, and still trying to have a life. That were thing about book: she were, Anne were just trying to live normal life in place that had stopped being normal. That were thing, and then you and your mate put it right at home, about pub and about…. About Mam and ‘Chelle, and then that place. Mr Barker, I did some more reading, on internet like, after we did book at school. I wanted to know what happened to her”

Again the inspection of the passing scenery. “That were what did it, Mr Barker They don’t even know which one was her, just shovelled them into hole, and… what happened to your friend, the one who were there with you?”

“Harry? Oh… Look, son, not nice. Simplest put, because he could drive tank, tracked vehicles and all, they asked him to drive bulldozer. There were that many dead, you see. People like Julian and Charles, aye, did their best, but they kept dying for far too long. Harry said…”

I needed a few deeper breaths first. “We could smell the place before we saw it, son, it were that bad, and Harry said he couldn’t get smell out of his boots, but there were none gash, spare, like, because we were running ahead of supply chain, logistics, aye? And then we were on boat back, and it were too late, and, well, Harry had had enough. You’ve got a bit of an idea why now, son. Things don’t just stop. They leave scars. Dad were same, after his war”

He looked across at me, brow a little furrowed. “Lads at school, they’ve got no bloody idea how lucky we are, Mr Barker. Here: I’ve got a tissue”

I hadn’t noticed the tears, but Susie caught the redness of my eyes when I moved back to sit by her, and once more no words were needed.

We took lunch in some place called Rendsburg, which had a copy of Middlesbrough’s transporter bridge crossing the huge Kiel Canal. There was a spacious cobbled area called something like ‘parade place’, with statues of people I had never heard of, with a not-bad restaurant with a name like ‘Watch’. It was Ernie’s turn to be pensive.

“Last leg now, Ginge. Up to border and finish”

Pete coughed. “Not quite, lads. Still got to drive up to the ferry in Denmark”

“Aye, Pete, but happen it’s last leg of tour we did in forties. Hey, Ginge, I wonder if that place is still there, that Japtown”

Ashley looked up at that one, clearly puzzled. “Japtown?”

Ernie grinned, as old humour took away old pain. “Aye, son. What it were, like… Look, I need to explain what we did, and why. Iva---Russians---he were coming fast through East Germany as it became, and Monty had taken surrender of all the jerries in the West, but brass were worried Ivan was going to try and get into Denmark. So we had a little race. Fitters gave our engines a boost, took off governors like, and we went hell for leather up this road to beat the Russians. That right, Rodney?”

“Oh yes, dear boy! It was rather a wild ride, I can tell you, and I could see out as we drove. And there was a bonus, as well”

He grinned, and there was more than a hint of the man who had spoken to us on entering Germany. Not enough.

“You will not believe this, Ashley, but the Germans wanted to make us an offer. They surrendered to Monty, and once again in Berlin so that Ivan could get his pound of flesh from them, but they still had a remnant of government. All the remaining top Nazis had trotted off to Flensburg, which is where we are headed now, and they offered to assist in a smooth transition to a new government”

The young man laughed out loud. “What? They wanted a bloody job?”

Matthew barked one of his laughs. “Not just a job, dear boy! They were offering to be the new government of Germany for us! Do carry on, Rodney!”

“Yes indeed. So, our rather rapid advance not only cut off Ivan’s intentions towards Denmark, but ensured a nice, full bag of senior German luminaries. I do believe, Matthew?”

“Absolutely, old man! We turned up with our armour a little way behind, they all trotted out in best rig, Number Ones, jackboots and peaked caps, medals and even bloody spurs on some of them! And they’re dripping with greasy charm and offering handshakes and assurances, and whoops!! Our lads smiled back at them, agreed yes, absolutely, and set up shop on a moored ship. In come the jerries for afternoon tea, and they’re arrested, stripped naked for a search, and Gerald there and his comrades are sitting in their tanks in the middle of the town to make the point most eloquently. An enjoyable day’s work, one of the very few from those days”

“Aye, Mister Folland, but ‘Japtown’?”

Ernie chipped in. “That were a worry we had, son. I mean, everyone knows about Normandy and Germany and that, but war were still going on out in Far East, Burma and that. We were all shit-scared—sorry, really worried that once we’d knocked down Jerry we would all be packed off to Burma, Malaya, to fight Japs, and that town name were just a bit too much of a coincidence”

Pete was riffling through a road atlas as we spoke. “Ah! Got it! Just before Flensburg. Not quite Japtown, though: here, have a look”

He passed me the atlas, and his finger tapped at a little place just to the South of the city: Jarplund. Not quite, but close enough for young lads from Yorkshire. We got back on the bus, young Ashley driving now, and soon found the way back to the autobahn. The scenery was starting to look familiar, and in a very short time we were on a long straight road through the ominous ‘Japtown’, before dropping down quite a steep hill into a very pretty city that held very little I remembered apart from the waterfront, which we visited that evening. Our hotel was a massive modern place called ‘Central’ even though it wasn’t, and it seemed to be full of Norwegians rather than Danes.

There was a long traffic-free street of older buildings, which unfortunately held a snare for the youngsters in the form of an American burger chain, but we managed to drag them past to a proper restaurant which offered beer. The sun was out, our ride was over and demons, while not exactly vanished, had been dragged out into the daylight and shown that we were still here, still breathing. As we sat by the harbour, with its pleasure boats and cafes, I remembered one February evening by fresher water, and reached out for Susie’s hand.

“Thank, you, love. Thank you”

She looked at me with a fond smile, clearly understanding. “Rifles, Gerald. Remember? One just falls down. I owe you my life too, you know. Look at where we are, look at where we bloody well WERE. Neither of us without the other. You know, there’s something I always wanted to say to someone, so don’t take it wrong way, but there’s not just one of you here”

“What’s that, lass?”

“Simple. Just wanted to say, well---my hero. My heroes, all of you. No false modesty allowed tonight, no putting yourselves down any more. Me and Ashley there, well, we knew what you did in a way, knew from films and school and, aye, Ashley, from books, but now we KNOW. So—pass us bottle, Pete? Ta”

She topped up her wine glass and stood. “To friends, both absent and present. To friendship. To bloody well looking after your fellow human beings”

We drank, and it was right and it was proper and, in a way, it was bloody well over. We laughed and poked fun, and my beloved officers told stories that strayed far beyond taste or decency, but nobody minded. We had all been there now, and in one way or another seen that elephant.

That was when Pete’s mobile phone rang. He looked at the caller’s number and frowned.

“Don’t recognise that one”

He pressed a button and spoke brightly. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, that’s me. And you are…?”

“Oh. Oh. Oh fucking hell!”

His face screwed up, and tears started as he held the phone away from him, knuckles so white I thought the little box would crack.

“Sorry. Had to take a moment. Please…where…aha…aha… In Germany at the moment, coach party. Back in three days or so. Ah. Yes, I know Brize... Susie, quick, pen and paper. Ta! Go ahead”

He repeated back a number, and then gave back what was obviously his e-mail address, and the rest of us just sat feeling stupid and useless till it was over and the call ended. Pete sat for at least thirty seconds without speaking or moving, before slowly folding the bit of paper and slipping it into his shirt pocket.

“Sorry, folks. Sorry. That were REME”

Ashley’s face was white. “Not young Pete?”

A man suddenly much, much older nodded. “Yes. My boy. Roadside bomb. Killed one, wounded three, but he’s stable. Flying him back when they can, into Brize Norton”

He looked away from us, not seeing what his eyes were pointed at but something further away and darker.

“He’s not dead. That’s what I have right now. He’s not dead”

CHAPTER 57
Nobody said much at breakfast the next day, but we were all packed and ready to go. Pete had spent some time on the phone to the ferry company, and after he had explained the reason for our change in plans they agreed to bring forward the day our tickets would be valid for. It would be an evening departure and an overnight voyage to Harwich before the last leg up through England. As we finished the bread, cheese and sliced meats, Susie reached across to take Pete’s hand.

“Pete, love, who’s going down with you to meet plane?”

“I have to wait for call, date, like”

“That weren’t the question I asked. Who is going down with you?”

Ashley raised his hand. “I will be. Not fit state to drive right now, are you, boss?”

Susie nodded. “Aye, and either me or Mam will be there for you. What I said last night, I meant. Gerald here, and me, we know what it’s like when you think you’re on your own, and that isn’t case with you. Not on your own, that is”

“Yes, I know, but I can’t ask other people to put themselves out, can I?”

Her voice rose. “Fucking stop that right now! Sorry, but had to be said. Friends are not put out, Pete Hall, not true ones. And I do believe my boss might be able to spare me for a while, isn’t that right, Gerald?”

I nodded. “Susie’s right, Pete, so here’s my hand on it. Only question that needs asking is, well, what do you need and when? We’ll be there”

Julian looked across at Charles, who nodded, and the former turned back to Pete. “Absolutely what these good people have said, my friend. Now, do you know where they will be taking him?”

“No idea. They’re working on him out there, but there’ll be a place back home, somewhere”

Charles said “Most probably Selly Oak, in Birmingham. They have a specialist unit there, for traumatic amputation in particular. Rather a lot of such cases from that war”

Pete shuddered, and Julian leant forward, a gentle smile on his face. “My dear boy, neither of us can do anything here, nor do we know what will be needed until your son is restored to us, but rest assured we will do what we can, when we are wanted. And that is without fee”

Susie was grinning now. “See what I meant last night, all of you? This is what people should be, this is how life, society, whatever, this is how it works! Now, we getting going soon? I need ladies’ before we get locked on bus”

We were soon leaving Flensburg, up a slight rise before a couple of stretches of dual carriageway showed where the old Customs posts had stood, and suddenly everything was in red and white as we entered Denmark. There were scattered buildings up both sides of the road, and Susie was suddenly laughing.

“I don’t bloody believe it! They’re all bloody sex shops!”

She was right, but one of the signs said ‘money exchange’ in several languages. I was expecting a stop, but the bus kept going straight past it. Pete turned in his seat to look back at us.

“Yes, I know, but we’ll only be here less than a day, and the money places on the border are always a rip-off. Now, I’m going to concentrate on the map, because we’re on the wrong side of the country for the ferry and neither of us has been this way before”

Translated in my mind: please leave me alone for a while. He was right, though, and it was a complicated little journey he picked through small towns and villages and obviously fertile farmland. It seemed almost as flat as Holland, and it was clear from the trees that there was quite a wind blowing. Ashley drove smoothly as far as a place called something like Scarbeak, on a flat stretch that reached out to the sea, a sandy island offshore. There was what I would have called ‘services’ with a menu that seemed to consist of nothing but fried stuff. Pete had a coffee while Ashley stretched his legs outside.

“Not too far now, folks. We go past a place with a famous church and a Viking museum, but, well, if you want to see it say so. We’ve got time, but. But. I’m not really up to tour guide today. I know this bit a lot better than the first bit, so if you want to stop off say so. I’ll park up and you can have a wander”

We took a quick unspoken poll, and Ernie summed it up. “No, pal. Let’s just get up there, get ready for crossing”

It really wasn’t that far, the coach rocking slightly in the wind blasting across from the North Sea, and there was a sweeping bypass to the West of the town, Ribe, from which we could see the very odd mismatched towers of the church Pete had mentioned. Susie took some video with her camera as we zoomed past, smiled and simply said “We’ll be back some day, love. Back as proper tourists, like”

Esbjerg came, and Pete was muttering instructions to Ashley. He called back to us once again. “We’ve got plenty of time, so I thought we’d get a picnic. Stopping at a supermarket shortly, so get some bits and pieces. There’s a place I want to go and see, and I thought we’d park up there for a bit. Now, Denmark is a bit funny with card payments in food shops, don’t know why, so sort out what you want, price it up, then use the hole in the wall to get enough cash. It’s about ten of theirs to one of ours”

Foreign food shops are always confusing, but this one had some really odd things. They had buckets, huge things, of something called sticky log, and when Susie’s curiosity got the better of her, and she asked a supermarket worker, it left her giggling.

“It’s fried onion, Gerald. Fried, dried and chopped up, for sprinkling on all their food. What their breath must smell like!”

We gathered a selection of fruit, bread rolls, pastries and meat and cheese, much like our breakfast, along with some surprisingly cheap wine and a couple of cases of beer, because I think we were all a bit suspicious of the ship prices. Back on the bus we eased through what was clearly a prosperous and arty city, or area of one, and after what looked like a tank farm or fuel depot the road moved towards the shoreline. The land was utterly flat, trees and shrubs low to the wind, and the skies were huge. Not far into this greener part, Ashley pulled off the road into a small car park, and we dismounted.

Four huge white statues rose before us, each of a stylised man sitting on a block. Naked, faces blank, they stared out to sea. Pete sighed.

“Just going for a short walk. I’ve read about this place, and thought it would be a shame to miss it, but what I really want is, well, no offence intended, but I’d like a little time to sit by myself and try and put some order into things. I’m not off to do anything silly. That water looks a bit cold, for a start! I’ll be back in half an hour or so, OK?”

None of us replied, for there nothing that any of us could usefully offer. He walked through the little barrier leading to the shoreline path and walked off away from the town. We found places at the base of the statues, after a little frenzy of photos from Susie, and shared out our picnic. The wind was cutting, straight of the sea, which had low waves hissing onto sand or mudflats. As we ate, a cyclist with a stupid amount of luggage on his bike wheeled it up to lean against the legs of one of the statues and asked if we could take their photo, He must have been in his forties, and his face looked burnt by wind rather than sun. It really was that strong. In reply to our questions, he grinned.

“Yes, bloody wind. I’m so knackered I drafted an old lady in town”

At our obvious confusion, he explained. “Like racers, when they get behind another one, cuts down wind resistance. This was an old woman on a shopping bike, and I am so bloody tired. It doesn’t stop. Easier by bus, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t the time to mention my last means of transport this way, so we bid him adieu after giving him some mineral water Susie had bought but didn’t fancy, and by then Pete was heading back towards us. Our new friend struggled on into the wind as Pete gave us all a gentle smile.

“Thanks, all of you. I can’t really say it, but, well, the best I can put into words is that I thank God I wasn’t sitting at home. Susie, you’re right. Having you all around me, friends, well, they’re not just for the bad times. If I’d been home, on my own, who knows…? Any cakes left? Ta, son”

He had the camping stove, we had the tea bags, there was enough protection behind a hedge—we had a proper cup of tea. Pity about the milk.

The sun was well to the West as we packed up, the light glittering on the wavelets and showing us the way home. The ferry was comfortable, the food was extortionate, as was the beer, which left us feeling smug at our preparation beforehand, and as far as I can remember, Ashley was the only one of us who got seasick.

CHAPTER 58
Harwich was visible from a long way off, or at least the big white reactor dome at Sizewell. There was nothing really visible of England apart from the dome for what seemed like hours, but eventually we were passing the moles or piers or whatever they are called and nosing up to the dock. There was the usual hanging about while sailors did sailor things, and then we were called down to our vehicles. Pete drove, silent that morning, and in a very short while we picked up the first motorway up past Cambridge, leading on to the A1 after a frighteningly busy dual carriageway to Huntingdon.

There were only five of us aboard now, the others leaving us for a slow train to London and other parts of the South. We didn’t speak much, for it seemed out of place with Pete’s silence, until we stopped at some typical motorway place near Grantham.

“You take over, Ashley. You were right: I’m not in the right mind for driving, pushing it a bit hard to get home”

Susie held up her mobile phone, which she had been tapping at for a long time. That was normal for her, though.

“You’re not going home, Pete, or at least not staying there. Mam’s making up the spare bed, and we’ll have a proper meal”

“Yes, but---“

“No but. What we said in Flensburg, aye? That stands. You don’t get left on your own, not with shit like this to deal with. You went above and beyond with these lads, and only because you cared about them. That goes two ways. Mam’s doing roast chicken. She’ll put it in oven when we get to yours, give you time to pick up a few things and sort any mail. Gerald, Mam will drop me home once he’s settled”

She turned back to Pete. “And it is settled, so be quiet”

The run up the A1 was getting more familiar by the mile, but it was still a surprise when we turned off for the run in past Hazlewood and Tadcaster. We parked up smartly in Pete’s yard, and Ashley pointed the older man at his car.

“Off with you. I’ll start sorting bus out, right? Look after him, lass”

We set off for Acaster, where Pete’s house was a solid and stonebuilt affair. Mail was piled inside the front door, but Susie took it all off him and stuffed it into a plastic carrier bag she had with her.

“Night things and toiletries and a change of clothes. Hop it!”

She took her phone out again. “Mam? Hiya. He’s just packing his bits and pieces, we’ll be right round. Hang on”

She looked directly at me. “Boatyard, home or dinner with us? Won’t be room for us to stay tonight”

I smiled at her. “Meal with the family sounds good to me”

That brought a twitch followed by her own smile. “Aye, absolutely you old bugger. Come here!”

I got a hug and a peck on the cheek, and then we were out of the door again in less than fifteen minutes. Susie drove, carefully and smoothly, while Pete ferreted through the bag of mail until he found the one he wanted.

“Right… It’s from his CO. Says….breaking protocol… one of my men… well-liked… Shit, it’s reading like a bloody obituary! Hang on. Right…oh fucking hell!”

He was in real distress now, tears flowing, and Susie passed back her handbag to me.

“Tissues, side pocket. Nearly there, love. Leave it till we’re sat together, aye?”

The big man just nodded and took some of the paper hankies from me to wipe his face. Valerie was at the door when we pulled in, and to my surprise Andy was standing behind her. My surprise clearly showed in my expression, for Susie snapped “Family, love!” and almost ran to her mother. She was still nervous with the young lad, although they managed to hide it well as he hugged her in welcome. Valerie was to the point.

“Dinner’s on table in an hour. Kettle’s on, tea’ll be brewing sharpish. You won’t have had a decent cuppa all trip, I bet!”

She herded us into the living room, and as we settled I saw Pete still had that letter in his hand. As she handed round the cups a few minutes later, Susie repeated the word ‘Family’ to Pete, and he nodded. She settled herself in a comfortable way against young Andrew, and Pete drew a long, slow breath, letting it out as a sigh.

“Got the word from his commanding officer, and it’s not as bad as it could have been. It’s still awful, but like I said, he’s alive”

He looked down at the pieces of paper. “They were on a recovery operation. That’s the stupid thing. He wasn’t going to be in that long, you know, he’d done loads of stuff in the UK, base work, and we’d agreed, well, I’d agreed, when his first term came up he’d be out. Job with me, use his skills and qualifications in Civvy Street. That was what he said, that and the fact that he would be in a bloody base depot. Remember his words? Not going out under fire to pick up damaged vehicles! Lying sod”

Valerie reached out to put a hand on his forearm, as I had so often seen her daughter do.

“Not now, Pete. Just tell us how he is”

“Oh. Sorry, Val. It was a bomb, roadside thing, Yanks call them IEDs, but they still go bang. It wounded three of the lads, Pete included, and killed one of them. Pete was lucky. He had the proper kit on. That’s what his boss says. He had something over his eyes, so they’re fine, and that new ceramic thing on his front. Apparently whatever hit that would have cut him in half. And that’s it, really, cause it’s his right leg, and that’s gone. It was hit by another bit and they think the only…”

He stopped for an instant, trying to get the shakes out of his voice, then tried again.

“They think the only reason it hit him where it did was because it went through his mate first. What the hell is up with this planet? With bloody people?”

He paused again, and Susie rose and went to sit on the arm of his chair, hugging his head to her breast. Just like her mother, she was crying, and I felt my own tears hanging. Young Andy just looked lost. Valerie stood up, dabbing at her eyes with the edge of her pinny.

“Going to go and sort dinner, love. Susie, show him where his bedroom is when you’re done. I’ve put him in your old room”

The younger woman took a breaking man by the hand and led him from the living room. He was back after half an hour, face washed and steadier in himself, but while the food was superb, the meal was a quiet one. Afterwards, Pete insisted on helping Valerie with the dishes, and they spent a little while in the kitchen before three of us left the two lads in the house so that Val could drive Susie and myself home.

“I had to have words with him, Gerald. He’s apt to do summat daft, so watch him. Who’s going down to air base with him?”

“Ah, young lad Ashley, as drove bus on our little tour. He’s a sound one; he’ll look after him”

“Good. Don’t think I can get time off, so I was a bit worried he’d crash the car or whatever. He’s fairly knocked sideways, but then who wouldn’t be?”

The conversation stopped, just like that, as each of us found our own reasons not to keep it going. I was feeling Bob’s strength dragging me out of the turret, the passage of the shot under my feet. I prayed that it had been as quick for Peter’s mate as it had been for Wilf.

Things went back to normal, or as near as makes no difference, over the next weeks. Ashley took Pete down to Brize Norton, but refused other companions on what struck me as very astute grounds. Peter was coming back half the man he had left as, which wasn’t true but would most probably believe in his own mind. Pete simply didn’t want to push people in his face till he felt ready for them. As predicted, he was taken to Selly Oak, but both medical brothers took a hand in his treatment, as they had promised. It took months before he was healed, or as healed as he would be, Christmas almost passing us by. It would have made a clean break if Susie hadn’t gone out one day and dragged a tree back to the house.

“Baubles in the box, Gerald. Do something useful and set tree up”

She was right, of course, and insisted on doing the full turkey dinner, with Andy and Val coming, and a piece of mistletoe hanging in the kitchen as well as one over the back door.

“Just as a hint, love, and not for you! Now, change. Jacket and tie and decent shoes. We’ve got guests”

I couldn’t help it, and started to laugh. She gave me the full hands-on-hips, raised eyebrows stare, and I had to explain.

“Lass, it’s simple, really. Look at the two of us now, aye, and ask what the heck did we think we were about that night in February? Look what we would both have lost”

She laughed. “Aye, I’ll give you that one! We are a pair, aren’t we! Come here!”

Hands went from hips and arms went round me as she pulled me into a tight hug, and I could actually feel the new bosom as it was squashed between us, which was deeply embarrassing for me.

“Upstairs, you, and change”

I decided my Legion rig would be best, so out came the blazer and that tie, mud, blood and green fields. Val arrived as I was changing, and then it was Andrew, so Val and I sorted a few things in the kitchen as the younger pair said hello, the lad blushing as we left. Susie was back in after a few minutes, chasing me out as she handed me a couple of bottles of Sam Smith’s ale.

“Out! Talk to Andy, set table. There’s eight of us today”

The doorbell went twenty minutes later. It was Ashley, with a young woman, and behind him stood Pete. In his arms, cradled like a baby, was what was left of his son.

CHAPTER 59
I stepped aside to let people through, and Ashley handed me a couple of bottles.

“Mr Barker, this is my fiancée Stacey”

“How do, lass. Come on in. Ashley, go through to front room”

“Not just yet, Mr Barker. Got to get something from bus”

He was back in a few seconds with a folding wheelchair, and I understood. I shut the door and led them through, Ashley snapping the chair open as Pete gratefully lowered his son into it. The boy was gaunt, his vitality seeming to have vanished—I couldn’t help it, and looked down at where his leg should have been. He forced a grin onto his face.

“Cheaper to get legless now, Mr Barker”

I made a similar attempt at laughing, but it failed, and so we settled ourselves round the table and tried to make the best of the dinner. The lad did seem to perk up when it was brought out, and I will admit that the girls had indeed done us proud. I usually find turkey too dry, needing a lot of gravy, but Val had used some trick with the stuffing and it was almost as juicy as chicken. I almost thought ‘goose’, but that would always bring Wilf to mind, with a home-made oven and a farmer lying still and cold with his family. Not now, not today.

Crackers and hats, and dreadful jokes. Pigs in blankets and roast potatoes, carrots and parsnips; mashed swede, sprouts, little Yorkshire puddings from one of those dimpled trays; proper gravy. Andy carved for us while Ashley was set to pouring some ales and soft drinks. By the time Her Majesty had spoken, we were ready for the pud. Nothing elaborate, just a proper Christmas pudding with decent custard. I was surprised at how much young Peter managed to get down, and I realised he had some of the same strength his father had shown.

The other two young lads cleared away the clutter while Val and Stacey sorted out some teas. I gave a shove to our settee, making room for the wheelchair, and I am afraid we didn’t talk much after that. Perhaps out of respect for a wounded soldier, perhaps out of fear of opening less visible wounds, we sat as comfortably as we could manage and watched the traditional Christmas James Bond film. Yes, it was violent. Yes, it had guns and explosions, but it was all so two-dimensional and unreal that it didn’t intrude or jar. I found myself watching the wounded soldier rather than the small screen, and quickly realised most of the others were doing the same and trying not to show it.

“Dad…?”

“Son? Oh. Gerald, where’s, you know?”

“Top of stairs on right, Pete. Sorry, son!”

His dad stood and stretched his back, before once more cradling his son ready for the climb up to our loo. Once he was out of the room, Ashley turned to me.

“This is sort of thing you were on about on trip, intit?”

I nodded. “Aye, son. But not like in films, you see now? Wounds don’t come with a bandage and a sling, not way wars are now. Lad was lucky. Might not think so now, but, well. Lucky”

Andy nodded in turn. “Aye. Like, I watch war films, like, and there were that big one, black and white. Longest Day? All cheering and running off beach. Then there were that Spielberg one, supposed to be same place, and, well. Couldn’t watch that one twice”

He shook his head, then turned to me. “You were there, weren’t you?”

“Aye, son. It’s where I went with Ashley here. Not on first day, like”

Still on a day when bodies were lined up like the Christmas trees in the lumber yard, though.

Ashley gave a laugh entirely devoid of mirth. “Aye, lad, not there now, but still IS there, if you get what I mean. And the people, well, they don’t forget either”

Susie was also trying, but the joy wasn’t within her reach. “Belgian village we were at, and they still remembered Gerald here!”

Ashley turned to the girl settled onto his lap. “Like I told you, Stace. They treated us right well. Things I learned on that trip; lot of it not nice, not for today, like. Hop off; best go and see if boss is OK—oh, no. That’s him on step. So, Andy? Where you two looking at living when you get hitched?”

Father and son came back through the door just as Stacey asked loudly “You two getting wed?”

Young Pete chuckled, and it did sound genuine, but there were still shadows under his cheekbones and behind his eyes.

“Wed? That’s quick!”

Susie sat up straighter, taking a quick look at her mother’s open mouth. “It’s also news to me, Ashley. Who told you that?”

The lad was blushing now. “Nobody! I just, well, the two of you, aye? “

Stacey herself was giggling. “So you can be all sensitive and sweet, love, pick up on emotions and moods, like, as long as it doesn’t concern me?”

Susie took my hand. “There’s more to my life than Andy, you know. In fact, I wouldn’t have a life if it weren’t for Gerald. Now, among more things than I can count, more than I need to mention here, this man gave me a home. Two, if you count how he got Mam and me talking again. Besides, any talk of weddings, well, few things in way, like. Need to get them sorted first”

Stacey was nodding. “No offence, like, Susie, but all of us know, well, what you are, so, yeah”

I had seen that face before, heard that voice, and the temperature dropped a few degrees as Susie replied.

“Oh? And what am I then, Stacey?”

The girl looked at her fiancé, who nodded, and she turned back to Susie.

“Not what you think, girl. Look, people talk, aye, gossip, rubbish mostly. Like Mam and Hal, my step-dad. Couldn’t get wed right off cause she were still married to Dad, had to get decree absolute thing, divorce. That were what I meant, nowt more. Law says you can’t wed till you tick a box. Nowt to do with, you know. Far as I’m concerned you’re a woman”

Susie wasn’t quite satisfied. “But what makes you think we’re getting wed?”

Valerie burst out laughing. “Oh for God’s sake, lass, the way you two moon around each other, what else is anyone to think? Andy, am I wrong?”

Seven pairs of eyes were now on one blushing lad, and he was lost for words. Susie grinned.

“You have something you wanted to ask, Andrew?”

His own eyes swept the room, finding no rescue. Finally, he sighed.

“That were a bloody daft bet lads had with me, and I’ll always feel guilty about it”

Susie purred. “You better had, Andy”

“Aye, but how things start is one thing, and where they go, how they end up, that’s important bit. I think… No. I know where I’d like to end up, so, well, aye. Will you?”

The purr was gone now, as realisation was hitting her. “Will I what, Andy? Love?”

“Just, well, not good with words, am I, and this isn’t how I thought, or where, or, hell. Just, will you? I know there’s stuff that you need doing, but Stacey’s right. It’s a tick in the box just like getting divorced is, that’s what it is to me, so, well, will you?”

She was whispering now. “Will I what? Just say it”

He slumped, and looked down, bright red. “Will you marry us? When you can, like. Properly”

I swear I will never understand women, because she simply blurted out a strangled “Yes!” before bolting for the kitchen, quickly followed by both her mother and Stacey. Someone started to laugh, and then applaud, and it was young Pete.

“Dear me! There was me, thinking I was going to be the death and gloom of the party, spoil everyone’s day, and we have a floor show! Andy, congratulations! Come over here so I can shake your hand!”

The poor lad had to do the round of us men, and Ashley then started to laugh.

“Really bad timing, pal. Good luck with trying to fit in an engagement party at this time of year. What are your mates going to say?”

The young man looked at each of us in turn. “You know something? I don’t give a shit. It were all a big joke, like. There’s the shemale, they said, the shim, that tranny, bet you a tenner you can’t get it to go out with you, and that were word, like: ‘it’. And I thought aye, tenner’s a tenner, but that were then, and this is now, and I know who she is, and I bloody well know WHAT she is, and that’s sweetest lass I’ve ever met. And you, Mr Barker”

“Gerald”

“No, not for now. Susie worships you, you know that? She’s not told me it all, but I’ve got an idea of it, so I’ll put it this way: would you give your blessing to me and her getting wed?”

So of course I did, and we celebrated as friends and family, and it was eleven before they were all heading off. Pete got his son settled in the bus before coming back to the door to shake my hand.

“Thanks, mate. That is the best he’s been since, well, you know. That’s life returning to him, and it’s down to you and your family. No, shush. If you can’t see who they are you’re blind. So get some rest, and, well, we’ll be there for Susie and Andy when the day comes. Good night, my friend. Happy Christmas, and the best of new years”

CHAPTER 60
Ashley had been right, and there was no chance of a proper knees-up for the newly engaged, so we settled for a proper night in for the New Year. Work came back to haunt us, but in the end it was a relief getting back out of the house and seeing what damage the usual winter floods had done.

We were lucky that year, no wet feet in the King’s Arms, and the first few days of the year were spent setting out priorities for maintenance and refurbishment. Susie had somehow managed to find a source of Bolinder spares and reconditioned engines in Birmingham, and then added to her not-so-little coup by negotiating an incredibly cheap contract for traditional enamel ware with an artists’ studio in Camden.

“How did you manage that, lass? Where do you find these places?”

“Internet, Gerald. And it’s not all one-way, like. Got my eye on that tool shed by the yard gate”

“What for?”

“Well, Poppy, as does the bowls and pots and that, she says aye, you can have some stuff cheap, but what about if folk like it? And I say, you want a referral to the shop, like, and she says no: if we can keep spare stock as she makes it, sell it to customers as might want a souvenir to take home, or just like her work, and we split take sixty-forty in her favour. Good thing is, we don’t have to do owt for it except stack it up and take money!”

She grinned. “Oh, and I’m looking at giving proper names to boats, with hand-made signs for them to take home with them as well”

I was left shaking my head at her commercial savvy. And they had her stacking shelves? It gave us something to work on for the grey days, and it turned into a snowball, or perhaps an ice-cream-ball, for one thing as usual suggested another, and before I knew it I was being talked into demolishing the shed and replacing it with a bigger unit. We ended up with a proper gift shop, and once again she was off negotiating, this time with the new owners of Cyril’s old shop. That hurt a little, for it would always be Tricia’s to me, but Susie had arranged more than I realised. The name of what became a little take-away café was the final touch: Mrs Barker’s.

I took an hour off that day, just to walk out along the riverbank, and no, not with a return of those thoughts. If things had been different, that would have been MY Susie smiling at the customers, my Tricia’s baking on the shelves. There was pain in the idea, but it was tempered by reality. I had failed my wife, failed the man who had loved me, but this time I was a success. She had a life, one she expanded on an almost daily basis, and that surely spoke for my own value? Stupid, maudlin old man. Dry your eyes and run your business like an adult. I took a few minutes to dry my eyes before heading back along the brown flood of the river.

Young Darren was in to see me a few days later, clearly nervous.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr Barker…”

“That overall clean, lad? Take a seat. What can I do for you?”

“It’s Susie, sir”

“Sit, sit. OK. What is it about the lass?”

He was looking at his hands, clearly nervous. “Gossip has it she’s, you know?”

“No, I don’t. What do gossips say?”

“That a lad’s asked her to get wed”

“And would that be a problem?”

“Well…”

He shook his head as if to shake off a fly. I sighed.

“What is it, son? That she’s way she is? Nobody’s ever made a secret of that. Lads in yard talking?”

“No. Well, aye, they are, but not like that. Mr Barker, thing is, she’s OUR lass, and, well, lads just want to be sure she’s OK, like, if this lad’s messing her about and that. We’ve heard stuff, things about a bet with his mates. Doesn’t sit well, that”

“Have you asked Susie?”

The soft so and so actually blushed. “Aye, happen we have, and she just says ‘go and ask boss’ and grins”

So typical of her. “Well, you’ve done as she said, so, well, aye. Andy popped question at Christmas. And he had a few things to say about what he thought of his mates. So aye; she’s engaged, and he seems a right good lad. That satisfy you?”

He looked a little put out at that, so I softened my tone even more. “Darren, lad, don’t take me wrong. Susie’s told me about you and lads, how you’ve taken her in. That’s a big thing. Girls like her have a bit of a hard time of it, so we both appreciate what you’ve done, all of you”

He sat up a bit straighter. “Aye, well, we know. I mean, I don’t mean we think we’ve done owt special, like—“

“You have, son”

“Well, happen as like, but. There’s more. This a proper engagement thing?”

“Aye. Don’t know if he’s done thing with jewellery, like, but way he asked her were right sweet”

“Thank you, Mr Barker. That’s what we needed to know. Here’s our bit, aye? Lads are putting hands in pockets, and I had a word with Ship. They’ve got big room out back, dining thing. Would it be right if we booked it, put some cash behind bar? Celebrate properly?”

“Have you asked lass herself? She might not want to do big, flashy thing”

He grinned. “Part two of plan. What you taught us when we first started”

“Beg pardon, son?”

“Mr Barker, first thing you taught any of lads, first thing you taught me: lay everything out, tidy-like, before you do anything at all. So that’s what we’re doing, getting tools and stuff in order. I’ll have a word with lass”

He was off, grinning happily, and an hour later he was back.

“Sorry, Mr Barker, but Susie says I have to ask you”

“Whatever for?”

A really cheeky grin. “She says as it’s your call as you’re to give her away at wedding!”

He left us both laughing with that, and of course I said yes to the plan. What a start to the year; her life was indeed expanding. I resolved to put some of my own money into it, naturally, for all the good intentions of the lads in the yard would still have to depend on how much cash they would be able to afford. I didn’t underpay them, but it wasn’t exactly a high-wage job. When I picked up the phone that afternoon to check the arrangements with Valerie, she laughed happily.

“Gerald Barker, you knew before I did, and that isn’t a criticism. We both owe you too much to ever pay back, so if she brings things to you before me, then I won’t worry about it. What about food?”

“Ship’ll do that, Val”

“I meant cost. I’m putting in whatever you do”

“Meant to be from lads in yard, Val”

“Well, good intentions, money gone on Christmas and New Year. Let me know, Gerald, and that’s not open to argument. I’m just wondering if she’s told Andy, like. He might not want to be in spotlight. Oh, and how many will there be?”

“Oh, depends. There’s twelve apart from me and Susie, so there might be what they call partners and that. Don’t know about Andy”

“Well, I think Pete and his lad, and that Ashley. He’s a good lad. And don’t forget your mates”

“Eh?”

“Rodney, Matthew, Ernie? They not want to have a bit of a do?”

I hesitated, and she was right. After what we had shared over the Channel, there was no counter-argument. She hadn’t finished, though.

“Look, Ship does rooms. We have spare, both of us, and then there’s Pete, and his place is a proper size. Plenty of space for us all without having to do anything daft like---oh! Just a thought, but what about a couple of your boats? Save the drive out to mine, and makes a bit of an adventure of it for those who like that sort of thing”

“Val, you are as sharp as your daughter”

“No I’m not, Gerald, for if I were I’d have seen her as she is a long time ago, and I didn’t, so least said on that the better. Now, have you spoken to Pete?”

We said our goodbyes, and as instructed I rang the other yard. Pete seemed a little distracted, but still keen on the idea.

“Great plan, Gerald, and yes, I can take a couple in if needed. Do we have a date?”

“Not yet, got to see what slots they have available, and then it’s who can come when, who’s got something else on, all usuals. Are you all right, Pete? You sound a little off?”

“Sorry, mate. It’s the boy. He’s getting restless”

“Beg pardon?”

“Ah, Gerald, been looking to line him up with work here. Makes sense, if you see what I mean. Let’s be blunt: with all the laws and benefits in the world, how many businesses really want to hire someone shy a leg? They’ll trot out all their fairness and inclusion credentials, but in the end they somehow seem to slide past the cripple. So I was planning on setting him up here, office work and that, and he says no”

“What is he after, Pete? I mean, it’s not ingratitude, not from him”

“No, not at all, mate. Not my boy. I think, well, I think he just wants to prove he’s able to make his own way. Getting a bit touchy about needing to be looked after”

“So what’s he after doing?”

“College. University, really. Get a degree if he can”

“He’s not stupid, Pete. Good university right here, as well”

He gave a long, troubled sigh. “No, he wants to go home. No, mate, before you ask, he means where he grew up. Hampshire. What the bloody hell am I supposed to do if he goes all the way down there, and him without a leg?”

CHAPTER 61
“What brought this on, Pete?”

He was silent for just the few seconds it took me to realise how worried he really was.

“Ah, Gerald, mate, it’s how he is. Bloody stubborn, pig-headed, independent, call it what you will. I can’t tell him… Shit, mate, he thinks I’m lining him up here cause I don’t think he can cope on his own, find his own…”

Another short silence, and again I waited.

“I nearly said ‘find his own feet’, and that would… I’m not making sense, am I?”

“Perfect sense, my friend. He thinks you see him as damaged goods, return to sender, aye?”

Yet another silence, and that one worried me. When he came back on, his voice was much softer.

“That was my real worry, mate. Return to bloody sender. I thought… I thought he’d not cope, take the easy way out. But it’s not bloody easy, is it? No, he thinks I see him as broken, needing charity”

“There’s more to it, though, isn’t there?”

He gave yet another deep sigh, a sound I was getting very used to. “Gerald, mate, I think it’s like nursery food. Comfort eating, if you take my point. He joined up from Yorkshire, did his basic training up here even if his tiffy course was in Arborfield, and I really think, in the back of his mind, he sees Yorkshire as a sort of extension of Afghanistan. Get away from here, get back to the nursery, where he went to school, and it’s all rose-tinted glasses. Scaring me”

“Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“What is he looking to study? Engineering course?”

He laughed, at last, but it wasn’t as happily as he normally did. “You won’t credit this one, Gerald, but he wants to do books and that. English Literature!”

“Beg pardon? Where did that one come from?”

“Oh, he’s always been a reader, my lad. Always one for the books, and the comics before that. Used to… Used to share them with his friend. Friends. Anyway, he’s got the necessary points, and the Legion are sponsoring him for a place to live, if he needs one. That limits his choices a bit, to where they actually have a home”

“They’re good people, the Legion, Pete. Where’s he looking?”

“Oh, Southampton, Pompey, Winchester, that area. We used to live in Grot Spot… You know, Gerald, I just realised: he’s doing what I did, just in reverse. I mean, I went down there when I was young, and when… When things didn’t go as well as they could, I came straight back up here, back to the old house, back to my own bloody nursery. He’s got a lot of me in him, I think”

It wasn’t like Pete to hesitate so much when talking, and I guessed there must be deeper issues he didn’t want to discuss and he was filtering what he said to me. Val’s words came to mind, and I wondered who the woman in question had been.

“Grot Spot?”

“Gosport. We passed it on the ferry, remember? I know there’s a Legion or Cheshire home somewhere near Southampton, so that’s the easiest one for him”

“Is he up to it, though? Physically?”

“Short answer? Nowhere near, but he’s getting very in-your-face about being a cripple. That’s his word for it, and he’s getting rather good at embarrassing and upsetting people he thinks might be looking at him the wrong way”

“What way’s that?”

“With any hint of pity. Don’t get me wrong, don’t include yourself in that; he thinks far too much of you”

“So what’s to do, then?”

“You know, I really don’t have a clue, mate, apart from just being there when he decides he does want me. He’s not the lad he was, but he still is, if you get me”

“Pete, aye. I know what you mean, and I know you’re not the sort to let him down, either. So what can we do to help?”

He laughed, but it was gentle. “You’ve gone all domesticated, mate! Saying ‘we’ all the time; I think that girl has been good for you. Anyway, just be there. You’ll know when, I’m sure”

I took his point, and after we had said our goodbyes I rang Rodney, and then Matthew, both of whom were very much in favour of the ‘do’. Last of all was Ernie.

“Gerald Barker! When are you going to get off your backside and visit us, instead of dragging him off all over continent?”

“Hiya, Ada. I suppose it’s you I really need to talk to, anyway. Talk to Powers That Be, like. Organ grinder rather than monkey”

“You cheeky pup! Ernie’s off down his garden with a bag of stuff for compost heap. What do you need my permission for this time?”

“It’s the lass, Ada”

“That… That lass as went on trip with you?”

“Aye. Susie”

“Our Ernie says she wasn’t what he expected. Proper lass, even if she might have needed a razor now and again”

“Aye, happen he’s not wrong there. What it is, lad’s asked her, you know, set his cap proper, like”

“What? Engaged? Does he know?”

“That’s funny thing, Ada. He took her out first time as a joke with his mates, so he knows full well. Just, well, our Susie has a way with her. Hard not to see her for what she is rather than, well, rather than what she’s supposed to be. Lad’s got the eyes for that”

“Gerald, I have to say one thing, so hear me out. I don’t hold with all this modern stuff. Lads are lads, lasses are lasses, but. And that’s word: but. We know you. If you are happy with it, then we’ll go with your judgement. Anyhow, Ernie was right taken with her. Got head screwed on right way, he says. So what’s plan?”

I ran through the ideas for the Ship and the accommodation, and she laughed. “Proper bed for us, Gerald! Too old for messing about in boats, Ernie and me. Who else is coming?”

“Her workmates, a few other friends, and I’m going to ask the Officers up”

“She be happy with that?”

I thought for a moment, but the answer was obvious. Susie moved in two worlds of friendship. If one of them was full of geriatrics, well, it was essentially how we had saved each other’s life.

“Aye, Ada. She will be”

A fortnight later, we sat down to a meal in the Ship. Andy had done the obligatory, and even though it wasn’t the biggest ring in the world, its sparkle almost matched that in her eyes and those of her mother. In some unexplained manner, Matthew had appointed himself Master of Ceremonies, and he went through a prolonged series of humorous character assassinations of what might be called our inner circle, which included references to my height and the colour of the hair I had once had. We had toasts, there was what passes for dancing afterwards, and I caught young Pete at one point clearly comparing the quality of his wheelchair with that of the one bearing Maurice.

The younger man looked better than he had seemed at Christmas. The pallor was still there, and he was not far from being emaciated, but there was a smile back on his face, even if it didn’t quite match that of my memories of him before Afghanistan.

He was waking up again, but I couldn’t be sure if it was true healing or just the prospect of what his Dad had called running back to the nursery. I stayed out of the conversation, leaving a broken man to find his own way home, and joined Susie, deep in conversation with her doctors. Julian was ever so slightly drunk, Charles much more so, and I resolved to detail one or two of my lads to keep a quiet eye on them, before reminding myself that ‘my lads’ were probably working hard to reach a similar state, and that this was actually their night off. Gaffer’s job.

“Trooper Barker! Dear boy, we come bearing gifts, two wise men, what? Magi? Colonel-eye, what? Where was I?”

I grinned, revising my estimate of Julian’s sobriety downward. “You were offering gifts, Julian”

“Oh yes! Of course! Susie, dear girl, work finished, job done, what?”

She wasn’t that steady herself. “You what? Er, beg pardon? Andy, love, top my glass up? Ta!”

As he went off to the bar, she turned back to the medics, much more alert than she had been seconds before.

“You mean what I think? You’re signing me off?”

“Absolutely! Thought it would be better in person, as---“

She stepped forward, grabbing each in turn and kissing them on the cheek. Charles was snorting with laughter.

“Absolutely, my dear! One doesn’t get such a delightful thank-you by letter! Now, dates to avoid?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Got to start saving first”

Julian was shaking his head, in that insistent but imprecise manner of the rather drunk.

“Not at all, dear lady. Expense is covered”

Some of the girl I had first met came back to her as she drew herself up, arms folding across her chest.

“You run businesses, you two. You can’t just, you know…”

“But we haven’t! Strings have been pulled. This will be under the eggs---the aegis of the National Health. Waiting list manipulation, influence exerted, and---“

His voice dropped to a rather loud whisper: “And a little bit of blackmail, don’t you know. Nothing heinous. Now, here’s your young chap with your drink. Mum’s the word, what?”

I left them to their plotting, yet again being given hints of an entire world in parallel with my own, and walked straight into Darren.

“Mr Barker, got a favour to ask. Lads want to say a bit about Susie, and it’s been handed to me as, well, you know”

“That you’re one with gob? Aye. Have word with Colonel Folland over there”

Five minutes later, and a ting-ting of cutlery on glass.

“Pray silence, my friends! We are here to celebrate a betrothal, and we do so as friends. One such friend wishes to speak! Darren…”

He looked very out of sorts as he stood at the head of his table, looking from face to face for any criticism.

“Ladies and gentlemen, friends, aye, that’s right word here. Look, people tell me I’ve got a big gob, but I’m not right good with this sort of thing, so here it is. Now, not being nasty, but everyone here knows that lass over there with the shy lad, that she has some issues. Well, I were going to say that we don’t care, but that would be wrong, cause we do care, and she came into our workplace, did Susie, and we knew what issues were, but that were not what we met. Not who we met.

“We all met a lass with a sense of humour, a hard worker, a good sport. Always found time to talk to us, never talked down, even though she’s in office and we’re ones with dirty hands. That’s her character, but it’s her nature that we could see. Sometimes you don’t realise how badly-off others can be till you get your nose rubbed in it, but that’s not her way. Then there’s lad standing with her.

“Andy, we all know what were going on, cause Susie told us. I’ll be honest, I wanted to give you a smack for that, but she says, no, she says you’re not really like that. Most of all, she says you’re not your mates and, well, neither are your mates anymore. I mean, they’re not your mates. Oh, you know what I mean. And you’re doing right thing by Susie, and if I have it right, it’s never a small thing for lasses like her. So, in a bit, I’m going to come over there and shake your hand as a friend should. First of all, though, ladies and gents: traditional thing. All got a drink? Aye? Toast, then. Andy and Susie: long and happy life together!”

We drank, Susie cried, and young Peter drank so much he had to be put to bed.

CHAPTER 62
I almost lost track of the year after that, for it was all rather an anti-climax following on from such events. We got some new boats in to replace some of the older cruisers, for the people who wanted them rather than traditional narrowboats always wanted all mod cons, whereas the other sort kept our little souvenir shop turning over nicely. I have heard all sorts of words applied to what we sold, the rudest being ‘tat’ and the politest ‘folk art’, but the hand-painted enamel plates and watering cans sold well.

Susie had been her usual devious self, and I found young Darren missing a few shifts after she arranged a City and Guilds course for him behind my back. She was entirely unapologetic about it.

“Happen I’m doing you both a favour, Gerald! Better than alternative, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Proper engineering course would be down in Leeds. I looked it up on Net, and you’d never see him at work”

“Well—"

“Look. Let me explain”

It wasn’t quite like being back at school, but it as a close-run thing. She was patient, though, even when she was explaining to me how much I was paying for his course.

“Gerald, look. How old are you? No, don’t answer that. Who taught you about the work here?”

“Mr Dobbs”

“See that? Still calling him Mister. Now, if he were ill, or away, who would have covered that job? Who does it now?”

“Well, suppose I do”

“Aye, and while we were away gallivanting round Europe, who covered it then? I’ll tell you who: Darren did. No real papers to his name, no letters”

“Aye, happen he did, but he’s a good lad”

“Right. Who signed off the maintenance records? Whose name against the certificate s for safety checks, insurance and all? Not Darren’s, is it? Why’s that?”

“Well, suppose he’s not, you know…”

“No, I don’t suppose he’s not, I bloody well KNOW he’s not! So what we do, is we let him get letters, papers, that say he IS, and that means we don’t have to lie to safety people, or insurance company, or customers, and if something goes tits up we don’t end up in bloody court!”

“Aye, but surely—”

“Bollocks, Gerald! Lad is devoted to you! You give him a leg-up, he has even more reason to stick by. He’s a bloody good worker, and with a little bit of a freeby for the qualifications, and hint hint hint a lift in his pay, you get a proper, certified foreman and assistant manager in all but name. Give him a title, if you want, and he’ll chop his own hand off rather than leave Dobbs and Barker. Not only that, but it sends message to other lads that hard work, commitment, all that brings a career and not just a job till summat better comes along. What are you grinning at, you daft bugger?”

I started to chuckle. “Just so funny, aye? They had you stacking bloody shelves instead of running bloody shop! Pardon my French!”

She stepped forward and hugged me. “Aye, but you had vision they didn’t have. All I had to do when I was looking at Darren were to think about how I felt. You lift folk up, Gerald Barker. You make a big difference in this world”

My weakening bladder gave me the excuse to break free before she got too embarrassing, and then we had tea, and I called Darren in for the chat we needed.

“You and Susie have spoken about this, aye?”

“Er, aye, Mister Barker. Once she’d said, you know, about certificates and that, well, it made sense”

“You think you can handle the studies, son?”

“I’ll do my best. All I can say, really”

“Well, we’ve been having a bit of a discussion, me and the lass, and we both know she’s sound when it comes to business. I mean, that shop full of plates, aye?”

He grinned. “I’d never have guessed that stuff would be so popular!”

“Well, brace yourself, cause we’re adding some compact discs and that of local music. Make it a proper York Experience thing. Anyway, wasn’t what I wanted to say. Look, I’m getting on, aye, and Susie were right: I don’t have the energy, nor the time, to keep looking over shoulders. So I’ll be looking for a foreman, site manager, assistant gaffer, whatever best term is. Someone who can make sure lads don’t botch a job, rush the work, drop half a Bolinder into Ouse. That sort of thing. I’ll need someone as has qualifications—“

His mouth was wide open now, and he seemed to close it only after a major effort. He turned straight to Susie.

“You never said you were—”

She held up her hand. “Shush! It makes sense, so I spoke to Mr Barker here, and the more I talked, the more sense it made. Think about what it’ll look like on your CV when you move jobs”

He was looking from me to her and back again, then shook his head in disbelief. “What the hell would I want to change jobs for when I’ve got best bloody boss in Yorkshire? Aye, Mr Barker. I promise you nowt but that I’ll do my best. And thank you. Got a BMC in bits and a Mercury to get lads started on. Thanks. All I can say, do my best”

He was out the door, but not without me spotting Susie slipping him a paper tissue from her handbag. I looked at her, absolutely comfortable in what was still her new life, and grinned.

“How did I ever cope without you on board, lass?”

She gave me back her own grin. “Neither of us coped well without the other, did we? Cuppa?”

“Aye, go on”

It was different the day after, because we’d had post waiting for us when we got home, and it was big news indeed. Julian and Charles had been as good as their word, and she had a place in a Brighton hospital for August.

“Why bloody August, Gerald? Busiest part of year!”

“Better chivvy Darren along, then. Look, I don’t really know, but won’t it be less busy in the hospitals then, folks on holiday?”

We were sat at the table, a nice shepherd’s pie before us, and she couldn’t stop rereading the letter. I took it from her hand.

“Have you rang your Mam?”

“No, not yet”

“Do it now. I’ll fetch phone. No buts”

In the end, I simply held out my hand for the telephone as her voice grew more strident.

“Val, it’s Gerald. Take a breather, aye? Then talk to me”

Some heavy sighs at the other end, and she as there. “Gerald, thank you. She’s not talking sense right now”

“In what way?”

“It’s too soon!”

“Why?”

“Well, she’s only been doing this for a short while—“

“Valerie”

I felt I needed to stop her sliding off into hysteria, for it was there on the edges of her voice, waiting to take control.

“Val, think on. How long has she been Susie?”

“Well, when did she move in with you?”

“No, think on. She’s been away from you for years, so long before me. Look, who was it you had?”

There as quite a long silence at the other end, and then Val spoke again, in a very small voice.

“You’re saying she’s always been Susie, aren’t you?”

“Done quite a bit of reading, but more than that I’ve talked with lass. You said ‘she’, anyway. Do you not see her as that?”

“Well, of course I do! Anyone can see that!”

“But it took her own mother a while, didn’t it? Now, the lad. He can see, I suspect he always has been able to, and that bet were actually an excuse”

I caught Susie sitting up straighter, and I gave a sharp head shake: not now, before continuing.

“Val, love, how do you feel about her and Andy? Does it really sit right with you?”

“You know it does!”

“No. I don’t. Nor does she, not really. Look, all sorts of things people say, but in the end, I have to ask: do you love your child?”

“Yes! Of course I do!”

“There’s no ‘of course’ about anything, love. Hear me out: I think you love your son. You have him back, you think, but he’s a girl, and, well, you can live with that, but seeing her complete means your son is gone forever. Am I right? No going back?”

Another long near-silence, but I could just hear the weeping.

“Gerald, how did you get to be so wise?”

By being blind for far too long, Valerie. I couldn’t say that to her, though.

“Val, love, look. She hasn’t said she’ll take the date”—another sharp ‘no’ with my head—“So why don’t you come down for Sunday. We’ll do a roast, and I’ll try to get her to cook veg properly. And I think we need lad down as well, as I think he has more than a passing interest in all of this”

“Right. OK. Look, want me to do pud? Crumble?”

“Aye, that would be good. We’ll give lad a shout, and then you go and have a soak in bath, watch something silly, and stop worrying. We do nowt on our own, aye? Family business is family business, we do it as a family, and what other family do I have?”

That did the trick, and both Susie and I were silent for a little while after the call, before she began to bristle slightly.

“Gerald Barker, if you think I’m going to be talked out of it, think again”

I shook my head, tired already. “No, lass. Just get her here, family dinner, and Andy does need to know as he’s made commitment. Not a small thing, and you’re not just not doing it just for yourself, you’re not doing it alone, aye?”

I got a hug and a kiss on the cheek for that, which meant I didn’t have to talk about the other letter, the one from my doctor.

CHAPTER 63
She stayed quiet for a while, just staring at the doctor’s letter, till I decided I had to break the silence.

“Happen I’d better start looking at hotels down that Brighton, then”

She looked up, head tilted slightly. “No”

“Beg pardon?”

“You’ve not been thinking, love. Look, what I said, aye? Busiest time of year? Who’s going to manage here? We agreed Darren can’t do it”

“Aye, but you’ll need…”

“No, I won’t I’ve got other plans, Gerald Barker”

“Such as? You can’t go down there on your own!”

She looked down at the letter, then at the phone.

“I need to talk to her, love. Mother and daughter, like”

“Aye, but, you know, she’s not right made-up at the idea!”

Susie sighed, shaking her head. “I suppose it’s not real for her, and it is real, at same time, like. I need someone down there, and it’ll be better if it’s another woman, won’t it? And that’s other thing: she’s there with me, makes it realer for her. I give her a job to do, looking after me, and she might find it easier to take. Sort of distraction tactics meet rubbing her bloody nose in me being her daughter!”

“So what do I do?”

She rose from the settee and came over to hug me.

“You stay here, and you keep Darren from stuffing up, give him some extras to do with you to keep an eye on him, just in case. And you look after my man. He’s not been told yet, and he’s a soft bugger, he’ll panic and worry. And you look after both the Petes, hold the fort till I can come home”

Her hands clenched on my shoulders just then.

“That’s the thing, love. This is home. Something you gave me I have never had”

“Lass, surely, when you were a kid, aye?”

“Not really. Not a home for me, just a place for who they said I was. THIS is home. So look after it, keep it warm and safe for me, while I take Mam down to Brighton and try and bring her back seeing sense. Let’s get to it. I’ll put phone on speaker”

Valerie picked it up after only two rings. “Gerald?”

“It’s me, Mam”

“Oh…”

“Look, I need a favour. I have to go into hospital for a bit”

“I know”

“Just, I would have asked Gerald to take us down, like, cause I can’t do it on my own, and I’ll be a bit poorly after, and, well…”

“You want me to come with you? While I see my son lost?”

Susie made a face, looking up at the ceiling, then at me.

“No, Mam. While you find your daughter. You’ve done more for her than she ever expected, or even hoped for. Can you do this last thing? Please?”

There were sounds, those I had expected.

“Mam… Don’t cry. Look, make a trip of it, aye? Do seaside stuff, bring Gerald some rock back, mebbes stop in London day before, see a show? Do some shopping?”

She looked over at me. “Think Rodney would put us up? Bit of mother-daughter time?”

I nodded. “I’ll give him a shout after. Val, she’s told me off, says I have to stay here and keep business straight, and she’s right. Busiest part of year, and I can’t leave lads on their own. She needs someone with her, someone as knows and loves her. Can you do that?”

Silence for at least a minute, before Val spoke again, softly. “What do I need to do?”

More calls after that, to Rodney (“Dear lady! Of course you can!”) and, after Susie spent some time on the computer, to the Royal Albion hotel in Brighton. That was an eye-opener, for they seemed to know exactly why two women would need a twin room for one night followed by a single for three days, and, etc. I realised there must be a steady flow of people like her through the town, which brought the revelation that there must naturally be far more people like her than I had ever guessed.

Sunday arrived as it always did, along with Andy and Valerie, who brought with her a rhubarb crumble.

“I’m cheating; brought tinned custard”

She was trying to be bright, and Andy picked up on it. Which showed me how sensitive he truly was.

“Happen I prefer tinned stuff, but then my Mam was never really that happy in kitchen”

Susie laughed out loud. “Like Gerald, there? Insisted on boiling everything to sludge?”

The shared ground seemed to lighten things, and the dinner went well, till the last of the pudding was gone and four of us sat replete and just short of groaning. Susie reached out for Valerie’s hand.

“Andy, love? Got some news”

For some reason he looked sharply at me, then back at her.

“Aye?”

“I’ve got an appointment at hospital. In August. Brighton. For, you know… Here, have a read”

She handed him the letter, as Valerie stared at the table cloth. Susie squeezed her hand, and, as Val looked up, raised her eyebrows. A sharp nod.

Andy was quiet himself for about fifteen seconds, clearly gathering his thoughts.

“Who’s…?”

“Mam. We’ll stop a couple of days in London, Rodney’s place, then we’ve got hotel booked right by Palace Pier”

“What about me?”

“Oh, I’ve got plans for you—no, not like that, you daft bugger! No, I’ve got a proper job for you. There’s a stiff-necked old man here will need looking after, and then there’s another lad as has lost his leg. They’ll both need some smiles, and you’re right good at those. Gerald’s got to keep yard running, and Darren’s there for that, so you’ve got job of keeping him sensible, making sure he doesn’t spend time living on chips”

And on she went, and once again I asked myself how and why someone with her wit, her deft touch with people, had ended up stacking shelves.

The answer was obvious, though: the same sort of thinking that had led to Harry putting a muzzle into his mouth on a ferry home, or Bob sitting so pink and normal and dead in his room. I had failed them; I resolved not to fail her, to fail nobody else if I had any strength in me.

Val changed subjects, onto Coronation Street, and to my surprise Andy was just as animated as the two girls. I couldn’t be bothered, so excused myself to take some air in the back garden, where it seems I simply fell asleep in what Susie called a patio chair. Andy shook me awake to say goodbye, once again giving me a sharp look as if searching for something before he left.

Susie opened some wine, her Mam drank a little too much, they cried together and Val stayed the night. That sounds so simple, but it was like the collapse of a dam. Finally, it seemed Valerie was starting to come to terms with the reality of her daughter’s changing life. Everything up to that point had been conditional, almost as if she had been humouring her child till they learned better, got over their delusions, but underneath it all had been the undeniable fact of a mother’s love. Now, at last, we could all move forward as Susie emerged from the shadows that had blighted her life.

We had dinner the next Sunday at the Ship, partly to avoid the two women having to cook, partly to catch up with the Petes but also so that I could have a beer, which always goes well with a roast.

Pete senior was to the point. “Got news, mate. Lad’s got a place at Southampton, English literature BA”

I looked at the younger man, who was finally looking healthier even though he was obviously in a wheelchair. Fuller in the face, a better colour, and certainly more animated than I had seen him for what seemed like an eternity.

“Seems like an odd course for a tiffy to choose, son”

“Ah, that’s the thing! I’ve always loved books. Started with comics…”

He paused for a second or two. “Yeah, comics. All that superhero stuff, then I got into Tarzan, and the Heinlein juvenile stuff”

“The what?”

“Robert A Heinlein. Yank SF writer; had a contract to write a ‘young adult’ book each year. Not bad stuff, really, but it got me into the written stuff rather than the picture, and…”

He carried on for quite a while, but I got the picture, so to speak. When I got the chance to speak, I asked the obvious question.

“So where will you live?”

“Oh, Legion’s got a home out at Eastleigh, up by the airport. Lots of military links along that stretch of coast, what with Pompey and that close by. They’ll give me six months or so, till I get back on my foot. That was a joke, by the way. You’re allowed to laugh”

I tried. It didn’t quite sound real. Susie raised a hand,

“News of my own, big news as well. Got hospital appointment, down in Brighton”

Pete Senior looked up at that one. “Oh? The op? THE op?”

She looked quickly at Andy, who took her hand in what was becoming a very common and reassuring way.

“Aye. In Nuffield hospital, just outside town. Julian and Charles, they’ve worked miracles”

I snorted. “Worked bloody system!”

Pete junior laughed. “Who gives a shit, if you get it done? Private?”

“Er, no. Being done by them, but on NHS. Sort of subcontract thing. Mam’s coming down with me, stopping with Rodney just before”

“Want any help?”

A broken lad, sat in a wheelchair, and his first thought was to offer support. It seemed the young man I had met seemingly centuries ago was still there. I shook my head, his father saw, and just smiled. People were healing round me, but still leaving. Ah well.

“Excuse me. Just have to pay a visit. Whose round is it? Mine?”

Andy shook his head. “Mine, I think. And we need to order pud”

We walked together into the pub, and as soon as we were out of sight he took my elbow and steered me past the bar and the gents’ to a quiet corner of the lounge.

“How urgent is that piss, Gerald?”

His eyes were very hard, fixed on mine.

“Not absolutely. What’s up?”

He cast his gaze round the room, chair by chair, wall by wall.

“What the fuck are you up to?”

“Eh?”

“Gerald, Jeanette, my cousin”

“Who?”

“Jenny Hunter. Reception at your bloody GP’s surgery”

I kept silent, but he hadn’t finished. “Why have you been ignoring the letters, you stupid old bastard? She knows she shouldn’t have said owt, but she’s fond of me, and she knows about my lass there, and who she bloody well lives with! This isn’t an option, not a choice I’m giving you. Susie needs you. You don’t just ignore stuff like that. How’s the peeing?”

His voice had risen at that, and he turned away, making as if to punch a wall, then turned back.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Gerald Barker. You are not going to complain that Jen has let slip, breached confidentiality, like. You are going to reply to quack, go in and do what he wants, finger up bum, whole thing. I want to marry that lass, and I want it to be a happy day, and you’ll be there to take her down aisle, or, Gerald Barker, you and I will bloody well fall out!”

A deep breath. “Now, what pud do you want? Oh, and better go for that pee now”

CHAPTER 64
I have never liked doctors. I don’t mean that I don’t like the people who do the job, as Julian and Charles clearly demonstrated. I just don’t like the places, the smells. That stay in hospital after I had met Susie had been more than enough to be going on with for a very long time.

I sat there, though, in a chair with a vinyl-covered cushion that slowly sagged when I sat on it as air escaped through small holes underneath. Typical of me: I find myself mentally taking things apart, seeing how they work or why they don’t, especially when I’m stressed.

I could see the resemblance in the face of the young girl on the desk, Andy’s nose a bit too strong for her, and she gave me a very steady look when I came in, followed by a gentle smile.

“Take a seat over there, Gerald. Watch the dot matrix for where you have to go”

“Eh?”

“Sign over door there. You’ll see your name and a room number”

I sat down where she’d indicated and tried to read an old copy of Country Life, but it didn’t settle me. Every thirty or forty seconds there would be a buzz, and the sign would change.

“Mr Gerrald Barker to room 11”

I rose, feeling my thighs damp from the plastic seat holding back my perspiration, and walked through the doors. An arrow: ‘Rooms 6-12’…

“Mr Barker?”

She was only young, blonde hair in a ponytail and a wedding ring on her left hand and an accent from the wrong side of the Pennines.

“I’m Doctor Wincer. Take a seat please”

Straight onto a computer screen no bundles of paper to riffle through.

“Ah. Yes. Gerald---you are OK with me calling you that? Yes? Fine. Gerald, how is your urination?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you peeing more often than you used to?”

“Suppose I am, just a little”

“Strong flow? Dribble? Finish and put it away, or have to give it a few seconds to have a second go?”

“Er, bit of all of that, really”

“Ah. Dribble and second go?”

“Aye. Just have to be patient, at my age”

“I’d like to examine you, if I may. Have you had a motion today? Passed a stool?”

“Do you mean number two?”

“Aye, had a dump this morning, emptied your bowels, sat on the doughnut in granny’s greenhouse?”

I realised I could get to like the girl.

“Aye. Always try to be regular in my habits”

“Good. I’d like to examine you, if I may. Nothing weird about this, it’s routine. Just a bit intimate”

I won’t describe what she did, but it was most definitely weird. She got rid of the gloves and washed her hands, and I was glad she hadn’t used the one with the engagement ring on next to the other one. She made a few notes on her computer record, then looked straight at me.

“Enlarged prostate, Gerald. Not hugely so, but it needs a proper look. I am also not too happy with a couple of other things. When you wipe, do you ever see blood?”

“Well, sometimes, but only when it’s a… when what I pass is a bit firm, and then it’s piles”

She muttered something under her breath about ‘Men!’ and turned back to her machinery.

“What I’d like you to do is have a proper examination, of your colon. That’s the large intestine”

I knew exactly what it was, and where, for I’d seen them in Normandy a lot, usually after an artillery stonk. Not now son.

“What does that involve?”

“We put a very fine cable up your back passage. It’s attached to a camera by fibre-optics, so we can have a look-see and check for any oddities there. What colour is the blood when you wipe? Red bright red that is, or deeper, like a ripe plum?”

“Fresh. Bright red. Why?”

“The other colour can sometimes indicate liver problems, among other things. Now BP and pulse…”

She did the stuff I was more used to, then tapped out some more stuff on her computer.

“The colonoscopy will need you to do a little preparation beforehand, which will take a few days”

“What sort of preparation?”

“Um… a strong laxative to clear you out. I’ll not fib, it’ll be messy. Now, I need some dates”

“For what?”

“For us to get you in and have a look up your bum to see if there’s anything nasty there. I’d want to see if I can get a can done, as well, and depending on that a biopsy”

She had another fiddle with her computer, and then started offering me some dates. They were all useless.

“Can’t do any of them. Busy time down yard, and my office manager is away for her own treatment. Might have time later in year”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, at your time of life this is important. We’ll write again, with some dates. I can’t make you take them, but I will be blunt: this is the sort of symptom that could indicate something very, very wrong. Soonest we catch it, soonest we can fix it. It might be note, but we don’t know that, CAN’T know that, without a look see”

She actually did say ‘note’, but I knew what she meant; I just nodded, and got out as soon as I could. I realised as I left that I had just promoted my girl, but in reality she had been doing that job for months.

August came round, and I seemed to have calmed Andrew down at least, for after my visit to the surgery he stopped nagging. I assumed I’d got away with it, but it was simply that his cousin had gone off on holiday.

Susie was packed well before her own appointment, and to my surprise, Pete stepped in again.

“Look, if I take the boy down early he can get used to the place, make it a bit of a home before the term starts”

“Pete, that’s over a month afterwards!”

“Yeah, but she won’t want to be traipsing round a station after, you know, surgery. Anyway, I’ll be driving back up, so I might as well”

We were having a Sunday dinner once more, all three lads joining us at Val’s instead of our usual trip out to the Ship, as it tended to get packed out in the height of the summer. Young Pete was grinning at the exchange.

“Look, gives me a chance to work out where all the best pubs are to get legless in, as well as the ones that don’t have steps”

I couldn’t quite decide if his humour was real or forced, but I went along with it as there was really no alternative.

“Pete, pal, it’s a long way from Brighton to Southampton! I can read a map, you know: one of the things they teach you when you do recon”

The big man just smiled. “It’s not a casual offer, Gerald. I think Susie’s going to want as comfortable a trip as she can get, and, well, seeing the lad off so soon after he’s come back is going to be hard on me. No, hush, son. I just want to make sure you’re fine down there, and I really would prefer company on the trip back. Ashley can handle the regular stuff while I’m gone”

Poor, lonely man. I could see his point, and realised that I was in the same boat. Our house—OUR house—had become a home once more, her presence and force of personality bringing back so much of the warmth my dead love had given to me. It would be hard without her, that was for sure.

Val reached across the table to take the older man’s hand.

“Thanks, love. We understand what you mean, and to be honest, I were dreading getting her back up by train”

She looked around the table at each of us.

“Done my own reading, about what it involves, what needs doing after, and it worries me. She’s going to be very uncomfortable after”

Susie held up a small bag. “Got my doughnut!”

Ever the soul and spirit of clever conversation, all I could come up with was “Eh?”

“Blow-up ring, but like kids use down swimming pool. Keeps new bits from, you know. All in info pack from hospital”

Too much information, and too close to that doctor’s question about granny’s greenhouse. In the end, of course, we accepted Pete’s offer, which was after all a two-way gift that meant he would have company to distract him from losing his boy yet again. The day came, I saw both girls off at the station, along with Andy, who was most definitely not treating Susie as anything other than a girl, and his girl at that. Their display was toe-curling, but in the end the station announcer warned the train was about to lock its doors.

“The couple by Costa Coffee need to uncouple before the train does. Last call for the 12:31 departure for London Kings Cross”

CHAPTER 65
I was really at a loss without her, and when Pete left shortly afterwards to take his boy down I was almost lost. It was an education, in a sense. I had spent so long on my own after Tricia had been taken I had felt that I was comfortable in my solitude, that I didn’t need people around me. I realised just then, as the house emptied and the nearest of my friends headed south, that I had merely been numb, not comfortable. Just because you lose the feeling in a hand or other bit doesn’t mean it can’t get damaged, just that the pain doesn’t tell you if it does. That had been my life: numbed, no pain, but steadily being damaged by my isolation.

Susie, Val, Pete and his boy; they had shaken me out of loneliness and brought the feeling back to me. In the end, it meant that I could hurt again, and I did as I rattled round the empty, silent house.

Work was better, for the lads were there, I had Darren to train in his proposed new role, and Doreen stayed chirpy in an obvious attempt to cheer me up. She brought me in a cup of tea and some biscuits two days after the girls had left me.

“Mr Barker… You miss her, don’t you?”

I tried a laugh, but it didn’t come out as well as I’d hoped.

“Is it that obvious, Doreen?”

“Well, not really my business, like, but, well, aye. It is a bit”

“Well, not surprising, really. Got a bit used to her company”

“Aye, and I’ve got a bit used to things going a lot smoother here! What are we doing for a welcome back?”

“Eh?”

She laughed. “Don’t take this wrong way, oh mighty leader, but sometimes you are not quite the most eloquent man on planet! Lads miss her an all, you know. Now, I’ve been doing a bit reading—no, we all know what this trip is about, and I wanted to know how long I’d be covering for her”

She sighed, and then grinned, taking her glasses off.

“I remember first day, Mr Barker, when you says she’s a bookkeeper, back when we had nowt but carrier bags with bits of paper and old Red and Black ledgers. She changed this place, brought it up to date. I used to dread coming in, for it was always playing catch-up with things. Now, well. She’s left this place so it almost runs itself. Not that it does, I mean; I’m not looking to lose my job!”

She fumbled in the pocket of her cardigan, and brought out a package, about six inches long, wrapped in tissue paper.

“Trevor did the metalwork, and we had word with that painter as does the cans and plates and stuff. Your call, Mr Barker, but I think this is just, well, recognising facts. I hope you don’t mind”

She unwrapped it slowly, and it was a hand-painted sign for a desk: Susie Lockwood, Office Manager, Dobbs and Barker Marine. I laughed then, honestly this time, and Doreen flushed.

“No, lass! Not laughing at you! Just, I were talking to someone a little while ago, and that is what I called Susie, without thinking, but when I DID think, well; happen it fits her”

That brought a smile. “Lads thought, you know, leave it on her desk for when she comes back. Going to be quite a while before she’s up for work again, according to stuff I’ve read”

“Aye, it will. Anyway, she’s due back home in next couple of days”

“Well. One bit of advice, then. I speak as someone who’s been under doctor for, you know, women’s things, and women’s things they are and should remain so. Not for men, if you take my meaning. Let her mam do the job she’s there for”

I looked at her hard, surprised by her acceptance, remembering the double take she had so clearly had when first meeting my girl, and she caught my expression.

“Yes, I know, but I don’t care how she started out. That’s a lass, a proper lass, no doubt there. I can see it, lads can see it, her young man obviously sees it. So it’s women’s things, Mr Barker, things for women to deal with. Now, my Terry and me, we’re having a proper Sunday dinner this weekend, and there’s a place for you there. You won’t be eating properly without lass. I know you!”

So I did eat properly that day, and on the Wednesday Pete delivered her and Valerie to my door. She was sweating lightly as she gingerly stepped out of the car, and Pete took her arm as she walked slowly into the house.

“How are you with stairs, lass?”

“I get there, Gerald, just not as quick as I used to. Fuck, it hurt! Sorry, Mam, Gerald. Can I just stand for a while, have cup of tea, get legs working again?”

We walked into the living room, and she stopped dead.

“Where the hell—when”

She was pointing at the sofa-bed that was now in our living room.

“Lads at work borrowed it, brought it round. Partly Doreen’s idea. She said you’d not be wanting to climb stairs, and you’d be up and down at all hours, so, well, there you are. Folds up right easy”

She stepped over to hug me, an embrace I gave back as gently as I could.

“Gerald Barker, I could marry you!”

“Er, think there’s a lad ahead of me in queue. He’s on his way over. Said I’d call when you were back”

She laughed. “Mobile phones, Gerald. I already called him, so get your jacket. Pete’ll drop us off at ship, and Andy can do rest”

It took weeks before she was fully back on her feet, and only a few days in she was demanding that Doreen load ‘files’ onto a ‘stick’ so she could catch up on the office work, which was so typical of her. Once she decided to do something, she went at it full-on, with total commitment. She said that it gave her something to do besides watch ‘crap telly’, but I didn’t care. She was home, and it was indeed a home once again. Her mother and fiancé were in and out, as well as Pete, obviously avoiding his own empty house, and I was kept on my toes that summer by a combination of a record number of customers and what Susie called Darren’s ‘developmental needs’. To give him his due, he picked things up quickly, which wasn’t really a surprise. His self-confidence was increasing on an almost daily basis, but he seemed to be avoiding becoming cocky about it. He reminded me of old Mr Dobbs’ instructions to me about laying everything out neatly, in order, so that what came off could go back on, just more easily.

It was Darren who came up with what turned out to be another profitable line, and not only did we start offering maintenance services for Bolinders and other less modern engines, but Trevor and Jack started their own courses at the local college. Not to learn how to repair things, but to get the necessary certificates to be able to train other lads in the work and sign them off with their own bits of paper. Dobbs and Barker had come a long way since I had first arrived, and it moved on even further when Pete agreed a joint venture for one way hire.

We already had the agreements with other yards to take in their boats and vice versa, but with Pete’s assistance we could now offer a pick-up service for our customers. They hired a cruiser, took it away through the waterways to another yard, and parked their car in Pete’s yard. When they got to their destination, another yard took in and fettled the boat while Pete sent a minibus or people carrier to collect the customers. Back to his yard, into their car, and away. He took the fees, and we pulled in more trade by being able to offer the service as part of the hire package. Susie called it a ‘win-win’. To be honest, I don’t think our bank manager was unhappy, either.

I don’t know quite how, but suddenly it was November, and we were setting up for a big day, two in fact. Remembrance Sunday was to be followed by Susie’s first day back at work, and we had a full set of visitors for the ceremonies on the first. Ernie was first to arrive that Saturday, followed by Rodney and Matthew, with a frail-looking Maurice. I gave him the sofa-bed long since vacated by Susie, and we adjourned to Betty’s for an expensive afternoon tea.

Susie was bubbling away, life shining from her eyes as she greeted each of her friends in turn, and at least some of the conversation didn’t revolve around her upcoming wedding.

“Got to get paperwork first, like. Get wed as legal woman, not anything else”

Laughter, warmth, companionship, together with so much we had all shared in such different ways. I remembered my thoughts when Susie had left, and smiled. Life was actually sweet after all.

The next morning, we donned our Legion rig, and I settled the old black beret onto my head once more. We formed up by Clifford’s Tower, the band this time being from the Royal Armoured Corps, which sort of fitted our sense of entitlement, and at 1029 hours we were called to Order.

“By the left---“

Susie walked with us, pushing Maurice’s chair as we followed colours and flags, band and serving personnel from the Forces. We made our way slowly through the city, heading for the memorial gardens, Pete with us wearing a ‘friends’ REME tie along with his poppy. We took our places at the Memorial Gardens, some of the lads needing chairs, and the gun boomed out for the start of the two minutes.

It was always the same for me. I bowed my head, and saw the faces not just of Harry and Wilf, but also of that young officer who had died calling in a barrage for us, and those poor souls in that awful place where the stench had stayed with my lost friend till he could bear it no more. I thought of Bob, and of how this world would not just have accepted him but, it seemed, almost to have embraced him if he had simply been born a few decades later.

I thought of young Pete, his life destroyed, and I thought of both Dads, and of my life’s love.

This time, though, I held to the brightness, to Susie, Darren, Doreen’s generosity of spirit, the love Val and Andy were showing, our friends in Belgium, and more than ever I realised how absolutely necessary it had been for me and these other lads to have done what we could to stop the Germans.

The silence ended, the wreaths were laid, and the Last Post blown. Fine words were said, hands shaken, and over a few pints we swapped the stories that didn’t come in the night, the ones that brought smiles and the other, brighter sort of tears.

Maurice died in the car on his way back home.

CHAPTER 66
Matthew’s voice was still strong, despite his years. Rodney had spoken, I had said a few words, but it was Matthew who delivered the message, in a parish church in West Sussex.

“Friends. Comrades. Maurice Flanagan was an officer in the pay corps. The war in which so many of us suffered and lost so much, yet won a prize beyond value, passed him by. It was not his choice, for fate and the War Office had delivered him to a desk rather than an armoured vehicle, had clad him in Number Twos rather than armour plate or battledress.

That may come across as a criticism, but it was not meant as such, for the value of a man’s character is not seen in the travails he is forced to endure but in how he faces up to them.

“Maurice was given a particularly unpleasant task, that of defending a brother soldier, a true hero in all senses, whose soul had almost collapsed under his own suffering. Our late friend could have taken an easy path, but he did not do so. He followed the words of the Bard, stiffened the sinews, summoned up the blood, and I do not misspeak when I say that on that occasion he did not imitate the actions of the tiger, but in truth became one. He took on his appointed enemy, and prevailed.

“That is the man we met, Gerald, Rodney, Ernest and I. It is the man who accompanied us in a pilgrimage we made to places we had been in harsher times, to visit other friends who had not been able to return home to friends and family. Maurice may not have borne arms, nor endured the fire of the enemies of this nation, of humanity itself, but when called upon he stood proud and made a difference that will always resonate.

“Thank you for coming here to celebrate the life of our friend. I do not speak of mourning, but yes, of celebration, of a man who left this world a better place than he found it. Thank you”

There were others who spoke, from his bridge club and the local Lions, but it was Matthew indeed who summed up a life that seemed to have been lived quietly but honestly.

The vicar said his piece, we sang the hymns and then followed the bearers as Maurice went to his rest. A bugle, the Legion banners; flag and uniform cap on the coffin. It was done.

There was a Masonic hall nearby, with some parking out the front and a bigger public car park just up the road, and they had been kind enough to open the doors to us. I didn’t know if Maurice had actually spent his evenings with rolled up trouser leg and funny handshake, but it didn’t matter. We had space, we had food and beer, and we had a venue whose staff knew when to leave people in peace. I ate, I had a couple of pints, and I swapped stories with the few friends that time had left to Maurice

He’d had a younger sister, widowed and childless, as the only surviving member of his family, and I found myself talking to her near the small bar.

“I didn’t know what to think, Mr Barker”

“Gerald, please”

“Gerald. Yes. I mean, I knew Mo had been in the Army, of course, but all this! I had him booked for the Co-Op. What was that big thing that officer-”

“Matthew”

“Yes, Matthew. And the other one, Rodney. What was all that about tigers?”

“Henry V, Mrs Kendall”

“Maud, Gerald. King Henry? Shakespeare?”

“Yes. What Matthew meant, well, were that we had a mate, a good man, got into spot of bother, right nasty. Ended up in Court Martial. Maurice was defence—Maurice did what you would call defence barrister job, and he did it well, and he did it with passion, and he saved our mate, and that were mate who had actually saved my life more than once, and Ernie’s too. That were what Matthew meant. Your brother was given a challenge, and he rolled up his sleeves-”

Don’t think about trouser legs, Gerald Barker!

“And he won the day”

“Oh. Still waters. My Mo was always the quiet one, books and things like that rather than rowdiness. This friend of yours? Oh. We are all getting on, Gerald. Time flies faster at our age than we ever knew in our youth, doesn’t it?”

I could do nothing else but agree, and then we had to take our leave for the trip back up to Victoria, a cab to Rodney’s town house and a long ride home the next day. I was heartily sick of funerals.

Susie was to start back the following Monday, so I made sure I had a decent supply of breadcakes, bacon and the rest. She was walking a lot more easily now, without the waddle she had been forced to adopt on release from hospital, and as long as she wasn’t lifting too much, she said she was fine. She had, in fact, described something called a prolapse, which left me quoting one of her more useful modern phrases: too much information! We parked up in the yard, an early mist dampening everything, and I unlocked the office.

Of course, the first thing she spotted was the thing Doreen had shown me, and I was astonished at her reaction. Given some of her more forthright moments, I had expected, at the least, some sort of squeal, but she just stood, smiling, arms folded, looking at the little plate before turning to me.

“Not bad for a shelf stacker, is it?”

Her smile slipped an instant later.

“Gerald, you don’t think, you know, Doreen? She won’t have nose out of joint with this? She’s been here ages!”

“No, lass. Her idea, sort of. Doreen does her work, and she’s happy with it. Lot happier since you came and straightened mess out, in truth”

“You sure? Don’t want to tread on anyone’s toes?”

“I’m sure. Now, why don’t you manage the kettle and manage me a cup of tea while I sort out breakfast stuff ready for lads?”

“Cheeky bugger!”

Off she went, and as each of our workers arrived, they stuck their head in to welcome her back. Doreen even brought a cake, which I felt was the answer to Susie’s question. Welcome back indeed.

Things were steady for a while, as we slowly built up for Christmas, and I managed to keep the doctors off my back. They wanted to run their camera thing, and I kept explaining how little time I had, what with Darren not being fully qualified and, to be honest, I got a little fed-up with it. I had worked all my life, and the business Mr Dobbs had left to me was largely my own creation, at least in how it had expanded, and it couldn’t just be turned off and left in a corner till I was back from whatever silliness they wanted to put me through.

We closed for three days over Christmas, though, and Pete and I treated our workforce to a proper meal, this time at the Oak in Copmanthorpe. It was a good one, turning a bit raucous afterwards as lads met beer, and I stayed on orange and lemonade for drive back. Pete had offered a bus, but that would have meant one of his lads having to stay sober, so we left it to the lads themselves to sort out getting home. We’d paid for the meal, after all.

“Young Pete not coming up, pal?”

The big man shook his head. “No, staying down there. Anyway, I need a word, if you’ve got a minute”

We walked out into the chill of the evening, tucking ourselves round the side of the porch to get out of a raw wind.

“Problems, Pete?”

“I don’t know yet. Could be, could be nothing”

“The course?”

“In a way. Oh, he says he’s enjoying it, it’s a challenge, interesting, all that. Seems to have found his place in the world. Happy with the accommodation, as well”

He shook his head, as if dislodging a fly. “That’s the thing, Gerald. I’ve heard you say it, and others say the same. Different words, but they all mean the same thing: going to see the elephant. You, your friends, my boy; you’ve all been there. I haven’t. I mean, I have seen some seriously shitty stuff, but that goes with the job. You lot, though…”

“That’s not what’s on your mind, though, is it? What’s up with lad?”

“Pete? Nothing wrong with him. It’s, well… Look. You remember when we first met, and I was talking about your Susie, and trying to explain how it was I could see past, you know, what she was born as, take her for who she really is?”

“Aye---Oh! Has he run into lass, one you mentioned?”

He nodded, sharply, angrily. “Yes, in a way. Look, when I left, the girl wasn’t well, what with what… what with how her father had treated her. We’d not long seen him buried, and the girl…”

He stopped to draw a breath, and I realised he was close to tears. I had to do it, and I stepped past the boundaries, outside the rules, to hug him.

“She’s called Laura, Gerald. Lovely girl, bonny, full of life. Except she isn’t. She’s Pete’s lecturer, one of them, and she’s going by the name of John and… And Pete thinks John is not all there”

“What? Stupid? And a lecturer?”

“No. Just missing half of their soul. I need help, Gerald. I need advice, and I need to be open, and I just need, well, someone who has seen a different kind of elephant”

CHAPTER67
That was a conversation-stopper if ever I heard one, and even with Susie living under my roof I had difficulty putting together everything Pete was saying. It was the pronouns, really. There was his lad, with a lecturer called John, and all Pete was saying was ‘she’ and ‘her’.

“Pete, mate. Look. I’m not getting this all in shape in my head. Start from scratch?”

“Right. Look, the first time I met Susie, I could see what she was”

“So could I. Big hands, for starters”

“No, Gerald. It’s part of being a good copper, reading people. You try and see under their skin, if you get me. Susie was never blessed with natural femininity, was she?”

“Looks a bit rough? Aye, she does that, but once you sit with her for five minutes, well, no doubt she’s a lass”

“That’s my point, mate. Five minutes and you stop seeing the size of her hands and just see the woman who has them. Laura was like that, as a lid. You’ve got this boy, or so you’re told, and all the games, all their thoughts, it’s a girl. I could see that, the boy could, her mum could…”

He broke off at that point, just for a second, and in one of my rare moments of insight I knew how right Valerie had been in thinking he was stuck on someone, and it was clear to me exactly who it was. I raised an eyebrow, and Pete noticed.

“Yes, I did, I was, whatever. Lucy was a real beauty, inside and out. She loved her kid, but the father, he was a real and absolute cunt of the finest water”

The expression on his face was frightening for a moment, before he shook himself and gave a sad little smile.

“Sorry, my friend. I know you don’t really like language like that, but just thinking about him, about what he did. He’s gone now. Drunkard, alcoholic, whatever you call it, he had so many problems with his health. He was a diabetic, for starters. Died in his sleep”

That was a subject I made a solemn promise to myself that I would not raise again. Pete’s earlier description of a child with a broken arm had been enough to seal that one. I put a hand on his shoulder.

“Go on, my friend”

“Ah, mate. The boy is confused to hell and back. He can see something’s wrong there, and he tells me that this John person seems to have lost a lot of their childhood, but there’s still enough of Laura there for him to see how much damage has been done. You probably think I want to talk to Susie, and that would help, but what I really want is to see if that shrink we took to Germany might help”

“I think it would have to be this other person’s call, Pete, whether they wanted to talk”

“No, not that. I just wanted to run some ideas past someone that would know if I was on the right track. Look, this is in confidence. There are things that happened to the kid I don’t want to go into just now. Shit!”

He wiped at his eyes, muttering.

“It never bloody ends, does it? Always something coming back to you!”

“How is Pete handling it?”

“Me or him? I think he’s doing better than me. He’s got this John talking, but he says it’s like having a conversation with an answering machine. Not just memory gone, but human warmth as well. I said to him, just remember who it is, and he said he was trying”

He looked off down the street, choosing his words.

“That’s the thing. He says there are little flickers of his old friend, but it’s like the last embers of a fire. A little glow, a hint of warmth, then out. That’s why I wanted to run it past that Charles, see what he says. He might be able to give Pete some clues”

“I can give you his number, but it might be better if Susie asks him first”

“Yeah, mate, that’s what I was thinking. I mean, he’s running a business, just like us. Not right to sponge”

We were interrupted as the pub door flew open and Darren stepped out, clearly looking for us.

“Mr Barker? Would you mind if I go off early?”

“Not stopping, son Night’s young!”

“Aye, and so’s Ricky. He’s had a bit too much already; need to see he gets home in one piece”

He grinned. “Suppose this part of managerial role, or whatever they call it at college! Look, I’ve got taxi on way. I’ll get him home to his Mam and Dad, then get back if he’s OK”

I nodded. “Aye, but tell taxi to bill us. Don’t want you having to pay out for doing job”

“He’s a mate, Mr Barker. I’ll let you know what damage is”

“Thanks, son. Don’t let it spoil your night. What got him so drunk?”

“Oh, I think it’s lass. He’s been very protective round her, like, and there she is with that lad of hers, and he’s a sound lad, and it’s like all pressure’s come off Ricky. Got a bit maudlin, but he’s stopped singing, thank fu—thank heavens. Here’s cab. I’ll get lad. Trev’s looking after him”

Three of them were back out in thirty seconds, Ricky clearly unsure of where his feet were, and as two of them went off in the car Pete laughed.

“Now that’s a proper works do, that! Your lad there has his head screwed on properly, hasn’t he?”

“Aye. Think Susie was first to spot that one. I mean, I knew he were a good lad, but she started him off proper”

“Yeah. Bit like young Ashley at ours. I really think that little trip of yours opened his eyes. He grew up a lot with you. Now, any chance of a quick word with your girl?”

“Aye. If you don’t mind, I need a sit-down. You wait here, and I’ll send her out”

I found her at one of the tables, Andy’s arm over her shoulders as they laughed at something or other, and I took a few seconds to watch her smile. There was real happiness there, the prickly defences of our early days together evaporated.

“Could you have a quick word with Pete, love? He’s out front. Nowt to worry about. Andy? Pint?”

“Aye, please. Could you get her a St Clements? Think she needs to slow down a little”

I filled the order, leaving the gin alone and getting a pint of shandy, just as she came back to the table. She spotted the fruity drink and gave her lad a mock glare.

“Now, how do you expect to be able to get your wicked way with a lass if you don’t let her get pissed?”

The lad blushed, but fought back. “Happen I might not want to do anything wicked. Will ‘naughty’ be good enough?”

I moved off, just as it was getting even soppier. Darren was back in half an hour, with a nod and a thumbs-up, and eventually things wound down as people made their own ways home.

Typically, Val insisted we have a proper meal on the day itself, Pete invited, and I was wondering how much weight I was going to put on. I simply stayed in for the New Year, and made sure I had some little foam ear plugs in when I went to bed. I have no idea whatsoever what time it was that the girl got home, but she was a little fragile the next day, a feeling I remembered well.

So I made sure I cooked a fried breakfast. She had scrambled eggs on toast.

“Spoke to Charles, Gerald. He said he’d be happy to have a chat with Pete, and he’d do it as a mate, he said. You were dead right with that rifle thing that night, weren’t you?”

“You get my point, then. Both of us tried doing it on us own, but, well, didn’t turn out right well, did it? How did it go?”

“I don’t know. Pete is being right close-mouthed about it, but it’s about that girl, isn’t it? The one like me?”

“Aye. Happen lad’s found her, just by chance. That’s all I can tell you, really”

“Right. I thought it might be the case. Look, nowt either of us can do, nowt useful, that is, so let’s just be other rifles for the big man”

I squeezed her hand. “And you?”

She smiled, and it took away some of the hollowness of her hangover.

“Me? Nowt much to tell. I found right man one day, a bit of a wet. Then I found other right men to work with. Now I’ve found last right man, one to fall in love with”

Tears began to flow, and I handed her the tea-towel I’d used to carry the plates.

“Why not years ago, love? Why did it take so bloody long to find right people?”

The answer was obvious, in the end.

“Happen none of us were the right people, years ago. We’ve all had to do some growing up”

She rose and came over to me, wrapping her arms around me and pulling my head to her breast.

“You do know I love you, don’t you? And that doesn’t go away just because I love Andy as well?”

“Of course. How could a Dad not love his daughter?”

She kissed the top of my head. “Gerald, love, all I can promise is that I’ll do my best for you, but, well, aye. Happen you’re right on mark there. Bugger. Going to have to wash my face all over again. Then we’re off out”

“Where to?”

“Meeting Mam. She’s got flowers for the family”

Susie didn’t feel she was safe to drive, so I took the car slowly down to the cemetery, where Valerie was waiting with some flowers as well as a couple of pots.

“Crocus bulbs, Gerald. Give them some colour even when we can’t. Susie’s told you what she were thinking, then?”

I hugged her. “Aye, love, but I’m not marrying you!”

CHAPTER 68
The floods weren’t bad that winter, but as usual customer numbers collapsed for a couple of months. We kept ourselves afloat by doing that for others, with a steady succession of boats to hoist out and check for damage, fouling, caulking and the rest. Trevor and Ricky knew what they were doing with that, and it let Darren push ahead with his studies. If things went well, he would get his certificates in time for the school holiday period, just when they would be needed most.

We paid our respects on the 14th, as a family of four, and then Valerie surprised us, taking her daughter off to Tenerife for a fortnight, just as February was getting into its worst days of grey, wet misery, and once again I had to rattle around on my own. That was in the house, of course, but otherwise I had no lack of company. Andy was punctilious in making sure I had everything I needed, and when I got really suspicious I asked him outright.

He simply grinned, and took a folded slip of paper from his wallet.

“Lass gave us a full list of what she says you need, Mr Barker!”

“Gerald, son”

“Don’t seem quite right, like, to other half’s Dad. That’s what she calls you, you know, when you can’t hear her. I mean, no offence, you’re a lot older than her Dad would be, but, well; fits right proper”

He looked down at his hands before speaking again, a little hesitantly.

“She told us about your little girl. One of the things on list, go round and make sure it’s all tidy down, well, you know where. I’ve mulched the tops of those pots to stop them drying out”

Pete was absent for about a week as well, and insisted on taking us all out for a Sunday lunch at the Blacksmith’s in Naburn when he returned. By ‘us’, I meant the two girls and Andy, and I could see their point—it did feel more and more like a family, especially after we had stood on Valentine’s Day and I had introduced Andy to my first one.

Pete was pensive, but there was an undercurrent there, a sense of tomcat and cream.

“Andy, you OK putting the orders in? I’ll have the gammon. Val?”

We gave him our choices, and he ambled off to the bar. Pete rubbed his face with both hands.

“I’ve been down to see the lad, folks. And I saw a lot more than I bargained for”

Val sniffed. “Way you’re going on, it weren’t just lad you saw!”

He suddenly grinned, and decades fell off his face.

“You read me like a book, Valerie Lockwood!”

“Not that hard, this time. Your girl’s back, isn’t she?”

He looked shocked, just for an instant, then looked hard at Susie. Val sniffed again.

“I’m one you’re talking to, Pete, not the lass, so just realise mothers and daughters share things”

Her own face softened, as she looked over at Susie, who was beaming.

“Aye. Taken me a while longer than it should have done, just to see what’s what, but there you go. We all make mistakes. Don’t forget, you dropped enough hints, and none of us is stupid. Not anymore. Now, talk to us, all of us. Lad’s family an all, so you don’t have to pack him off so you can whisper”

He spent a while looking at his hands before raising his eyes and looking at us one by one, Andy included. Once more, a deep sigh.

“I was down there for a little while and, yes, the girl is back. There’s more to it, though. Gerald mate, how did you think Pete was when he left to go down there? Same as he was when he left to go to Afghanistan?”

“Good Lord, no. I was right worried about him”

Susie murmured “Typical!” and when I looked at her threw up her hands.

“Just saying, like! Spend all your time worrying about other folk and you let yourself get into a state instead. Pete, your boy were cracking up. We all saw it. I mean he had a sense of humour again, but it were all off, all gallows stuff. There’s ways of poking fun at yourself, and then there are other ways, not good ones. That were your boy”

Pete was nodding rapidly, “That’s it. That’s exactly it. I mean, we all make jokes about ourselves, and we should do, but there’s supposed to be a smile in there”

Susie’s face had fallen at that, and suddenly she was in tears, Val sliding across to comfort her, and getting there just before Andy. He looked at me, and looked hard, before saying, gently, “I know how you two met, Gerald. And I think I know what’s set her off”

He took her hand, interlacing their fingers. “Die young, was it?”

She nodded, just the once, and he turned back to Pete.

“I know you’ll not say owt, because you’re a decent bloke, but obviously this is between us and us alone. It were when Susie were down by Ouse, that February. Self-deprecation, that’s the posh words, but it can be self-hatred, too easily. Am I right, love?”

Once more that sharp nod. He spat the words out, “Live tranny, die young, leave a bloody ugly corpse. That were what she thought of herself. And I think that’s what Gerald were seeing in your son. Am I right, my friend?”

He had indeed hit the nail firmly and squarely on the head. “Aye, that were it. It wasn’t the jokes he were making, it was the way he were making them. What’s changed, Pete? I mean, I think, way you’re talking, way you were laughing…”

He shrugged, raising his eyebrows before saying the one word “Laura”

Val tilted her head a little to one side. “Laura? That’ll be the girl that, the, the one that’s like my girl?”

He nodded. “She’s back. Memory’s all screwed up, still a lot to sort out, but I think she’s pulling through. Looks like my boy triggered something, and, well, it’s gone both ways. I get grins from him now, not grimaces. And of course her mother’s been superb”

Val snorted her orange juice all over the table with laughter, and fought to get her breathing back to normal after the resultant coughing fit.

“I bet she bloody has, you randy old sod! I damned well KNEW it! Who’s been giving the tender loving whatsits to whom?”

She turned to me. “What did I say to you when we first met this lad? Pining, I said. Someone he’s missing, I said!”

Pete muttered something, fumbling in his rucksack. Old age was definitely stripping my faculties away.

“Sorry, Pete? Come again?”

“I said I’ve got some pictures. Downloaded them from the camera last night, got them on my laptop here. Thought it would be better than trying to look at a camera screen. Oh, hang on: food’s coming. Eat first, OK?”

Val didn’t stop digging all the way through the meal, but Pete simply deflected each question, right up to the showstopper.

“So, she moving up here or you down there?”

His face fell. “I don’t know. I mean, I spent so long without facing up to things, and then there’s the business”

“Aye, but you are stuck on lass, aren’t you?”

He said nothing, pushing a bit of carrot round his plate, but then, just like Susie, gave a single sharp nod.

“Val, the trouble is what I just said. This is something I should have faced up to years ago. Faced, and sorted. Sod it, I’ve done with this”

He called over to the bar. “Hal, can I use the plug here for my laptop? Yeah? Ta!”

Fitting cables together, he smiled. “My appetite’s not up to pudding, so I’ll show you what I’m on about”

Once the thing was warmed up he set it where we could all see the screen.

“Right… hang on…OK. That’s our old house, down in Hardway. And… that one’s Elspeth’s old shop. Er, Pete’s mum, my late wife”

“What happened, mate? I mean, if it’s not too hard a subject”

“Oh, Gerald. Dodgy heater; carbon monoxide”

I thought of Bob, seemingly asleep in his chair. “Next one?”

“Yeah… just some shots around Pompey—Portsmouth. Still and West, on Spice Island… Gun Wharf… HNS Warrior, yeah with the Victory’s masts there, see them?”

Val was very dry. “Not tourist stuff, Peter. You know what we are after seeing”

“All right… that’s their house, Lucy’s place”

Andy looked puzzled. “Thought it were Laura”

“Yeah, it is. Lucy’s her mum. Hang on…”

He flicked through a number of images, and then showed us a very well-presented woman of a certain age, make-up and hair flawless, elegant in the way few women manage without it looking anything other than natural and easy.

“Lucy”

Val’s voice was suddenly without an edge. “She’s lovely, Pete. What I said earlier, you know, randy old sod, I’m sorry. You’ve caught her right well in that shot. You are a lucky man, love”

“Thanks, Val. Really thanks. Now… now this is Laura”

Andy muttered ‘bloody hell’ while Susie said something about nothing being fair, before turning the laptop slightly for a better look.

“This is a lad in a dress?”

“I really thought you’d know better than that, girl”

She was shaking her head and twisting her mouth, something she usually did when she couldn’t find exactly the right words for something really important that she just had to say right there and then.

“No, Pete, not what I meant. I’m asking: is that someone who’s not been on hormones, not had any bloody treatment of any kind? Because if it is, they are very, very lucky”

She was in some sort of silky blouse, which she was filling in what looked like a natural way, and he had caught her as she smiled at someone or something. Tousled blonde hair, collar length or so, little obvious make-up and clearly her mother’s daughter, her eyes were twinkling with life.

“Hang on… now, this is rude. I wouldn’t do this normally, but—Susie? What is it you call it when someone calls you by your old name?”

“Deadnaming”

For some reason, she stared at her mother, who blushed slightly.

Pete nodded. “Deadnaming. Right. Please forget that I showed you this. The boy has problems every now and again, drifting off, back to things out in the Far East. So when he went to this lecture he had his own computer with him, recording”

Susie sat up straighter. “You’ve got Laura in drab, haven’t you? Sorry. Crossdresser term, meaning dressed as a man”

“Yes. I wouldn’t do this, not normally, but you really have to see it to understand what my boy meant”

Tinny sound, a lecture theatre or classroom, a slight blonde figure in a jacket and tie delivering a lesson in a droning monotone. No life. No animation. No inflection or emotion of any kind, and yet I could still see, all of us could, that it was Laura.

Val started to cry, joined by Susie in short order, and the older woman reached out and closed the lid of the little computer.

“I don’t know what the fucking hell happened to her, and I don’t want to, if I’m honest. But, well, I think your boy’s happened to her now, him and you, Peter Hall. So, you take that recording and you delete it, now. And you get back down there and finish making things right. Oh, and don’t think I missed that picture you flicked past”

“Which one?”

“That one with Lucy sat in your lap”

CHAPTER 69
We didn’t see much of Pete for a while, and before I knew it Easter and its rush of tourists was on us. The older I got, the faster the years went, like water down a plug hole. Darren was looking at his approaching exams as well, so I ended up spending far more time on my knees in a boat than sat in the office. That bit was covered by Susie and Doreen, of course, a hand-painted name-plate prominent on one desk, but in the end I couldn’t put the hours in that were needed, as my knees simply couldn’t take it.

Ashley was the surprise there, for when I mentioned it to Pete during one of those Sunday dinners where half the pub seems to be filled with your own people, the lad simply held up his hand.

“Mr Barker, gaffer here’s got a proper manager in now, Mr Soames. Happen I know enough about diesels, if you want hand at weekends”

I looked at Pete, who was nodding, and gave the boy my hand.

“I’d want to pay you, lad”

He laughed. “Aye, I were hoping for that. Me and the lass, we’re trying to get deposit together for a house, and a bit extra would be right handy”

Pete reached out to squeeze Ashley’s shoulder. “Yeah, he’s a good worker, is our Ashley. What do you run?”

I thought for a few seconds. “A few Bolinders, some Cummins, a lot of Perkins and Leyland”

“Volvo?”

“Never actually seen one, but some of private craft we get for repair can be a bit, well, people find their own ways of doing things”

Pete laughed out loud at that one.

“Indeed, don’t I bloody well know it! Some of the bodges his brother’s told me about, bloody hell. Works in a motorbike shop. There was this one time where…”

And off he went into a long series of anecdotes about the mechanically subliterate. Not ‘illiterate’, because the culprits had clearly had some mechanical knowledge, just lacking such things as empathy, or even common sense. One of those spring days where the world is at ease and the smiles come without effort. Susie took Ashley to one side so they could agree terms, Andrew sat and smiled at her, and Val grilled Pete again.

“Yeah, he’s doing far better now. At some point, they’re going to move out of Lucy’s. Oh, sorry; should have said. She took him in, did the place up for him, wheelchair ramp, whole lot of stuff”

Val’s voice was soft. “You never let go of hope, do you?”

He looked down, shamefaced. “I let it go for far too long, Valerie. We both did, you and me. This is a better world than we thought, isn’t it?”

A sigh. “Aye… Now, that lad of yours? What’s he doing about lass? And what are YOU doing about his mam?”

Something happened just then that astonished me, and it was Pete’s face swiftly turning pink. Val crowed with laughter.

“I were right, then! You ARE a randy old sod!”

He shrugged at his embarrassment, but there was obviously more.

“Yes, Val, but no more questions on that, yeah? Too much pain still there, too many years wasted. Look, Laura’s stopped hiding now. Got some more pics, if you want to see?”

Susie looked up at that. “Oh yes indeed! Ashley, we’ll sort it out proper and get contract done to keep HMRC off case, but we’ll have to ring Ty Glas some time and see if there’s owt else they need. Pics, love?”

Pete pulled his laptop out of the bag again, warmed it up and started scrolling through the picture files till he came to a series of shots of what looked like a restaurant, quite a few people clearly in a good mood, with plenty of evidence of refreshment.

“Now… yeah, that’s Laura’s boss, Howard. And her best mate, I’d say, Dave, Forbes I think. His missus Sharon…”

He looked up from the laptop. “Something I should explain, really. Laura wasn’t herself for a long time—you’ve seen the evidence and yes, Val, I’ve deleted it. I gather she was more than a bit annoying for a while, but that man there, Dave, and his wife, they stuck with her even though they had no idea what was going on. Can’t say fairer than that, couldn’t really be a truer friend. He said something just then, that evening, about finding out why his odd mate was odd, and then finding out she was lovely…”

Susie had a tissue for him this time.

“Thanks, love. That’s the thing, you see: all those people there, they must have felt something about her to stick with her, even when she wasn’t, well, ‘her’”

Andy shook his head. “No, Mr Hall. I think you do folk down. Most people are sound; it’s just that the idiots make a bigger impression”

“Yeah? Well, I still say everyone at that meal was special. That’s Martin; he looked after the boy for the Legion, that’s Mary, the shrink who turned her round—“

“Pete”

“Gerald?”

“You’re doing it again. What turned her round is sat in wheelchair in that picture, if I’ve got it right. And it’s two-way street. That smile on lad’s face is best I’ve seen from him in ages. What were dinner for?”

“Oh, a couple of things. I’ll try not to give the punchline while you’re drinking, so… John, as was, Laura as is, had a student, a girl. She tried to get higher grades off him, better marks, and according to Dave she was really obvious about how she intended to, ahem, reward him”

Susie laughed out loud again. “But she’s bloody well straight!”

He nodded, with a truly happy grin. “Yes indeed! In fact, that dinner was for their engagement, her and Pete”

I almost lost the thread after that, because suddenly everyone wanted to congratulate, hug, shake hands, but I waited until they had calmed down.

“Pete?”

“Yeah? Oh, right! The funny bit. I didn’t see it, but Howard there, and that woman, er, Harriet, and the black lad there—can’t remember his name, they were on a panel. The girl only turns it round, doesn’t she?”

Susie snorted. “It was him pestering her for nookie? Play hide the sausage or get bad grades?”

Pete was nodding, a real twinkle in his eyes. “Absolutely! So, they get her in, and she says her bit, and then Howard and Harriet say ‘shall we ask Doctor Evans to step in?’ and—well, this!”

He clicked open another picture, this time of Laura in an impeccable business suit of skirt, jacket and shiny heeled shoes. Val’s mouth dropped.

“Oh my god! So she just walks in? Looking like that?”

“Yup, and Howard points out she’s straight, and Harriet mentions engagement, and, well the student really lost it. Lots of swearing, all that. Looks like she’s off her course now”

Susie shook her head. “THAT is the one you should have had a bloody video of, Peter Hall!”

She narrowed her eyes. “There’s more, though, isn’t there? Agreed, Mam?”

Val stared at him for a moment. “Aye, love. Think you’re right on money there”

Pete shrugged. “Not much more to tell, really. Boy’s finally given in and asked—that lad there, he’s his physiotherapist at the Royal Navy hospital there. He’s asked him to start the process of getting a new leg”

He looked round our table, eyes challenging. “Says he’s walking down the aisle when they get wed, not rolling. Laura’s told him that as well. She’s got a lot of strength in her, that girl”

Andy was pensive. “Not being funny, but he’ll have a few problems there, what with it being gone above knee. I did some drawings for mechanics once, for prosthetics company. Bloody complicated spring system up there”

“Yeah, mate. That’s the thing. Ollie was clear that it’s not just technically hard but physically, too. That’s what’s got me so proud of that girl. I suspect I might have lost my son altogether without her. I… I had a quiet chat with Martin, the lad from the Legion, and he was quite open about it. They take their broken people in, but some of them leave feet first. Nobody outside the ones that are directly affected seems to give a shit”

How well I knew that. “Tommy Atkins, pal”

“Yeah, Gerald. Spot on. Anyway, look at that picture. All those people, all pulling hard for my boy. How can he fail now?”

Val patted his hand. “So, when’s the wedding?”

“What, the boy’s? Oh, all sorts of crap to get through before then. Laura needs to get officially recognised as a woman. Pete needs to get his new leg sorted out. There’s sorting out where to live, and of course Pete’s still got his degree to work for. It’ll be a while before the happy day”

Ashley was the one grinning now. “Boss, do us all a favour, aye? Nobody sat round this table is stupid, and I’ve been watching the ladies. Susie, Val? Am I right?”

Val chuckled. “If you are thinking what I think you are, lad”

She turned back to Pete. “Lad let it slip, love. Mr Soames, aye? That’ll be Roger Soames, as were at bus company?”

“Yeah, that one”

“New manager, this one tells us. So you can tell us the rest”

“Which is?”

She gave her daughter a wink.

“What date have you set for wedding Laura’s mam?”

CHAPTER 70
He was blushing again, but there was a grin behind the lowered head and shuffling hands.

“Yeah, can’t really hide that one, can I? We haven’t set a date, but, well, it was sort of obvious. Pete asked Laura, and I saw the way her mum was smiling, and it just made sense to follow the boy’s example. Too many wasted years…”

He faltered, just for a few seconds, but then the smile was back, twice as bright and utterly natural this time.

“Yeah, you’ve seen through my cunning plan. We just have to sort a few things out first, starting with the house. I’d like to bring them both up to see it, though. Be a wrench to give it up, so I thought I should share some of the memories with them”

Val took his hand again. “You not miss it up here, love?”

He sighed. “I have to admit I will, Val. But, well, Laura has a real career down there, Pete is just getting his off the ground, Lucy has a really nice place and, well, to be honest I’ve been---I’ve realised I’ve been hiding up here. I should have sorted all this out years ago, but I took all that and put it into work. I’ve done well, the business has done well, but that’s all I have done. Time to, what’s that yank phrase? Have some ‘me’ time”

Val grinned. “And Lucy time?”

Susie reached across to slap her mother’s arm. “Leave him be, Mam! Pete, when are you thinking? And what do you need from us?”

“Ah, girl, that will depend on how things go down there, leg and all, and to be honest I worry about how much Laura can actually take. Early days still”

“And she’s nervous, aye? That slap down of that student?”

“Yes, but look at who was around her. She’s still scared, and I think she’s still not completely well. Don’t want to push her too hard”

My girl was nodding. “Aye. I know that. Coming out is bloody hard, terrifying. I mean, I remember I would go out at two in morning, skirt and heels, find an excuse like posting a letter, just walk down street and back”

Val took her daughter’s hand this time, and Andy already had the other. The older woman’s expression was wistful.

“You still went and got a job, love”

“Aye, but as soon as folk started to notice, that bastard of a boss stuck me out in stock room, away from normal folk so they wouldn’t get upset having to deal with a freak”

She looked away, and there was just a hint of tears held back by force of will.

“Pete, you bring her up, you let us know when. We’ll say hello, then keep distance, like. Let her set the pace”

He leant across to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, love. I’ll let you know when. Anyone for another drink?”

I had to use the gents’ just then, and once more I was followed in by Andrew, once more told my fortune. I had all my usual arguments there, but he shot them down.

“And lad’s not ready as duty manager, then? Not got his papers just about done? You’ve got no excuses left, Gerald. I’m taking you down there tomorrow to make appointment. Booked time off for it, so you know I’m serious”

He caught something in my expression, and shook his head.

“No, I haven’t said owt to her. Not my place, is it? But trust me, Gerald, if she knew what you were doing she’d throw a right one. So we keep it to ourselves, let them do their checks, and if it’s all clear then we have nowt to tell, aye? So, you coming with me tomorrow?”

I had no choice, really, so I agreed, and we returned to our little family group rather more subdued than when we had left it. Susie looked straight at me, trying to work out what was going on, so I made myself grin and gave them the very old joke about beer being rented rather than bought. There was a little bit of laughter, and then she sat up straighter.

“Oh, meant to say! Gerald, BBC were after you. I almost forgot, what with all this about Laura and that. They’re doing interviews of veterans, programme about how war’s changed but hasn’t really, if you see what I mean”

I must have looked doubtful, and her enthusiasm slipped down a gear.

“I know, love, but I really think you should do it. That trip we did… sod it, when we met, aye? You told me things I’d never known, never realised. I think that’s point of programme, show folk how nasty and messy it is so they think twice before diving in”

She rummaged in her handbag for a letter.

“Came in addressed to boatyard, so I thought it were normal mail, like, and then realised it were for you as you, not as boss. Sorry”

Pete was shaking his head. “I’m with Susie on this one, mate, but I think we’ll leave the lad out of it. Still too raw a wound”

They wanted to speak to me on the Thursday. It looked like my week was getting booked up rather quickly.
Andy picked me up the next morning, and on arrival at the surgery the receptionist gave him a nod and me a glare, as the doctor gave me an appointment for the following Tuesday and a prescription for something that would clearly make it unwise for me to spend time away from a toilet after taking it. All very quickly arranged, to my eye, and I realised the boy hadn’t just been nagging me but actually pushing my doctor along. I didn’t relish the following week.

Thursday came along, and it was Val who delivered me to the studios in Leeds, where they powdered my face and did other things they said a camera needed before leading me down a maze of corridors. I found myself in a room with one glass wall and a small group of men, one of whom I knew.

“Gerald! They got hold of you then!”

“This your idea, Ernie?”

“Not really, pal. They had word with Legion, and they shoved me forward, and I said aye, I know another lad, over in York, and, well, here we are. We’ll get us dinner out of it, anyway”

The door opened, and someone I recognised from the telly came in, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans rather than his usual jacket and tie.

“Hi, thank you all for coming in. I’m Tom Edwards, but you probably know that. We have a sort of plan for today-a dry run, but recording. We’ll do a more formal one later today, but start off with some introductions, set the scene”

That left a question hanging, and of course it was Ernie who asked it. “Why record now, then?”

Edwards grinned. “I’ve been in this game a long time, and one thing I learned at the beginning was that things happen when they happen, so ALWAYS have the cameras rolling. Now, I’ll just call Hardip and Shelley in for the recording bit…”

In they came, there was some fussing and checking of all sorts of technical stuff, and then Edwards was to the point.

“Initial interview three, The Sharp End. Today we are speaking to Gerald Barker and Ernest Roberts—“

“Ernie”

“Thank you. Gerald Barker and Ernie Roberts, of the Royal Tank Regiment. Alan White—“

“Chalky”

“Thank you. Before I start again, any other name changes?”

We all had a little laugh together, the last lad shook his head, and Edwards sighed and started again.

“…Chalky White of the Royal Marines, Ian Bowman of the Royal Regiment—“

“Northumberland Fusiliers, son”

“Right… and Joe Eyres of the Royal East Riding”

He gave us all a bit of a stare, and then grinned, at which point I decided I actually liked the man.

“Here I am, trying to keep you lot in line, and then I remember that you have earned the right to step out of it. Back to the script. Gerald and Ernie served with a reconnaissance unit of the fourteenth Royal Tank Regiment, going ashore in Normandy two days after D-Day itself, and fighting their way to the Danish border and the final German surrender.

“Chalky White landed on the Falklands in 1982, fighting in the battle of Goose Green, and subsequent battles until the Argentine surrender. He also served in peacekeeping duties in Bosnia, and in the first Gulf War in Kuwait and the later Iraq war. Ian Bowman was with the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers, which later became the Royal Regiment of Fusiliers, in the emergency in Aden in 1967.

“Joe Eyres was also in the Normandy landings with the Royal East Riding Regiment, and like Gerald and Ernie stayed with his unit as far as Denmark and VE Day. Gentlemen, thank you for coming. Now, what we hope to do with these interviews is to capture your personal experiences of being at The Sharp End”

The capital letters were clear in his voice.

“By that, I don’t mean an account of battles and hardware, I mean your feelings, your emotions. I believe that there will be a lot of common ground here, and if it were possible, you would share that with, say, one of the Legionaries from up on the Wall. Chalky, can you give us an idea of what it was like to be in a firefight?

“Mr Edwards---“

“Tom!”

There was a twinkle there as he got his own back, and I decided that yes, I really did like him. Chalky led us on an account of some nasty little actions, most of which seemed to have been fought in the dark, and when he spoke of the night actions in the Gulf, he was almost wistful.

“That was the thing, you know? In the South Atlantic, it was all very old-school, all close action. I mean…”

He paused, and I knew that look. “It meant bayonets, and that’s a big thing, a hard thing to do. In the Gulf, it was mostly at a distance. What the tank gunners could see they could kill, and it meant that we followed rather than led, but on the island… No. It wasn’t good”

“And Bosnia?”

Chalky’s face twisted. “Not the same thing at all, that. Fucking—sorry. Can you edit that?”

“We won’t. We’ll bleep it out, but this programme is all about feelings. Gentlemen, please speak as freely as you want. Let today’s young people know how lucky they are. Chalky?”

“Aye. Fucking Bosnia. Not the place for us, not at all, and it was my mate, big Geordie lad, Mike. He shouldn’t have been there, you know? I mean, he were hard as nails, but sensitive with it, and what those bastards did to women, kids… He said it right, a job for coppers, not soldiers. We came back, and he just cleared off. Never saw him again, and then it were Iraq again, and that were almost a relief. I mean, it were still a horrible thing, but at least it were a bloody war and not women and kids, Sorry”

“Ian?”

The bigger man was nodding. “Aye, Chalky’s not wrong. I mean, Aden were a bit like that, but more like lads say Ulster could be: you never knew who was going to take a pot at you”

“Where were you, Ian?”

He laughed. “Oh, I were lucky, in a way. We were stationed by Crater City, and they had this big hill, and superstition was that you’d never leave Aden till you’d been to top. We spent most of our time up country, fighting the rebels, but every time we got some new lads in, we’d tell them about hill, and first thing they’d do was go running up it. One lad…

“Some kids never learn, and we said to him, don’t go anywhere on your tod, and that lad must have, and it were four days before he were found, what were left of him. They’d tied him with barbed wire and---no. Not today, aye?”

“Joe?”

“Ah, I think we need a bit of light relief, Tom. You’ve got to picture the scene, and they copied it on that Yank show, ‘How America Won Every War in History’ or some such shite”

“Band of Brothers?”

“Aye, that’s it. Germans surrendered, and we are heading off to Danish border to finish it all off. So there’s tanks and wagons and us going one way, and what seemed like millions of Jerries going other, and Sammy James, he says, ey up, let’s show buggers what we think of them, so we all drops us trousers and hang our bare arses over side of truck so they can see exactly what we DO think of them!”

Ernie was chuckling. “Joe, I think we’ve got some photos somewhere, me and Gerald here. We must have been in tank right in front of your wagon!”

Tom was giving little thumbs up signals as the conversation took off, and then he turned to me.

“What was your job, Gerald?”

“Gunner, Tom, in a Cromwell. Tank. We did reconnaissance, out front of rest”

Ernie stuck his hand up. “It were different for me, I were inside all time, no vision ports or owt, so I didn’t see much”

“But you did, Gerald?”

“Aye… too much, Tom. Tanks burn, and they go quickly”

“Were you ever knocked out?”

I realised at that question that he already knew the answer, so I just nodded. “Aye, lost a mate in that one. Middle of winter, little Belgian village”

I gave the name of the place, and Joe sat up straighter.

“I were there too. Had some fucking bastard in British kit we took away and strung up”

A memory…

Joe looked down as his own memories stirred. “Aye, we gave him a court martial, drumhead one, and then we strung him up. Not the first one, either. That one were a sniper, SS”

Ernie was staring now. “Your boss a bloke called Allsop?”

Joe was nodding. “Aye, Captain Allsop. Copped one at the Rhine crossing. That sniper, well, we’re pretty sure it were him. Four days he spent killing my mates before we got him”

He was staring at me now. “Did you have red hair?”

Ernie laughed. “Aye, Ginge, we called him”

Joe was nodding again. “Stop me if you don’t want this told, Ginge. Tom, it’s the dead of winter, and we’re on the edge of a big push by Jerry, Battle of the Bulge. These two boys are laid up waiting for the attack, and the krauts are sending SS men out in our kit, or in Yank uniforms, and they try it on with these boys and they’re sharp enough to see what’s going on. That’s where Ginge, Gerald here, that’s where he comes into story”

He looked across at Chalky. “You said it, mate, abut close combat. Big thing, aye?”

“Aye, absolutely. Different for lads with big guns. Don’t have to look into another man’s eyes when they kill them”

Joe was nodding all through that. “Aye, and that’s where Ginge here, lad who’s not been doing that, not looking in their eyes, that’s where he looks a Jerry in the face, in his eyes, and he looks after his mates just then and shoots the fucker just about point blank. Bill and Jack told me about how much blood there was, all over fresh snow, aye?”

The other men were squeezing my shoulders, patting my arm, as Joe finished.

“And that, Tom, is what it is all about. Ginge here does what we have all had to do, something none of us ever wanted to do, and he does it face to face, and he does it for his mates. I think we should take a break now”

CHAPTER 71
The rest of the interview was a bit of a blur, so I was surprised when it came to an end. Tom thanked us all and then one of his staff took us down to the staff canteen, where he joined us after about twenty minutes. Ernie nodded to him.

“When’s proper filming, then?”

The presenter grinned. “That was it, Ernie. Got you relaxed, didn’t it? I’ve got a number of sessions like that, which we’ll string together with me doing the more formal bit as an intro. What we will want, if that’s OK, is some footage of your day to day stuff. Set the scene for the audience. Walking into work, sitting in pub, feeding ducks in the park, whatever it is you do in daily life. Would you mind?”

My pal looked around at the group, and one by one we nodded, Chalky laughing.

“Like that programme on the Arctic and Mountain cadre, aye? Mike always called them ‘Rock and Ice’; they had them doing all the daft stuff, like with the cat, and then there’s one of them in a suit and tie, at a desk”

Ian looked puzzled. “Cat?”

“Aye, a cat. They’re off on some exercise, test like, and they’ve got to live off land, but there’s this old dear lives nearby, keeps sneaking them teas and snap, and then one day she says, anyone seen my ginger tom? And this one lad, well, he’s not only eaten the bugger, he’s bloody well skinned it and is wearing it as a hat! Laugh, I nearly pissed meself!”

Tom did laugh, but I don’t think he lost any bladder control, though I did have to go and pay a visit just then. When I came back, Ernie was nattering away to the presenter.

“Gerald, were just telling Tom here about trip we did. Says he wishes he’d known before we went”

“I do indeed, Gerald. It would have been an excellent opener for the show. Hang on…”

He took out a mobile telephone, and tapped in a number.

“Hang on… Rishi? Hi. Got a proposal for you, with this latest group. Bit of OB work, if you have the budget. No, Belgium. Couple of days, I think. We’d need… hang on. Gents, who would be up for a visit to Gerald’s little… the place three of you will remember? Get some stuff to set the scene? All of you? Ah. Rishi, you get that? Hotels and plane tickets for all of us”

Ernie raised his hand, like a schoolboy with a question. “We might happen to be able to find a cheaper place to stay. Sort of open invitation, like, with people in village”

There was a light in Tom’s eyes now, as if he scented blood. “Sod that! Got an even better idea! Rishi, we need to talk. Got a big one about to drop, round, fat and shiny yellow! Can you look up the Mayor’s number? Leeds or York, I don’t give a shit. We just need some tit with a chain and an OB crew. We do this as a one-off, sets the scene for the whole bloody series. On it? Later!”

He closed the little phone up, and looked at us all. “Buggered if we can spring for the Falklands, and Yemen’s rather out of the question, but if we can do a sort of town-twinning and scene-setting in one, we have a place of which three of you have memories in common. Get the scene set, cut to that bit in the studio, bang, ratings guaranteed! Just need to see what we can get from the Belgians… Look, leave this one with me. I think we’ve got something special here. Something that would really do proper honour to the mates I know you’ve all lost”

He shook his head, sadly. “I have no idea how the hell you boys have kept going, how you managed to put so much shit behind you and get on with life. Look, Ernie, Gerald, if you have the number for the people over there, I’ll get our researchers onto it. Got to go now, look at what we call the rushes. This is going to be big!”

He was off, leaving the younger lads shaking their heads in disbelief. Chalky sighed.

“He thinks he’s got it, doesn’t he? Really thinks he understands?”

Ian shook his head. “I don’t really think so, mate. He’s trying, but I think, what it is, like, well, I think he knows he doesn’t, can’t get it, but he’s doing his best to try and tell folk what he can”

Chalky nodded, then grinned. “Pub by station, lads. Pint?”

Ernie laughed, as happily as I had ever heard him. “Squaddies and beer? Aye, go on”

Chalky gave back a mock scowl. “Watch who you’re calling a bloody squaddie, mate! Ill shout that car they left for us”

Fifteen minutes later Ian had directed the driver right past the station to a proper old pub, the Grove, and we each held a pint as Ernie led the traditional offering to absent friends. There was silence for a while, broken by Ian’s prod about Belgium. Ernie sipped for a while, framing his reply.

“Well, Joe remembers it. That’s not thing you’re asking, is it? You want to know what’s SP now?”

“Aye”

“Ordinary folk, son. Just like here, just like---Gerald, remember that talk you had with young Ashley? About what it would have been like for us, his local, his sister?”

I nodded. “Lad couldn’t get his head round it, so I gave him a few home truths about what occupation really means. Your home, your people, aye? Brought it home to lad, I think”

Ernie patted my arm. “Aye, it did. Lads, typical little village, where family comes back to find a grave in their garden and burnt-out vehicles in their hedge. They remember”

Chalky barked out a laugh that wasn’t real. “And that were thing in Bosnia: no end to it. Krauts are being nice now, Belgians are friendly, it’s gone away, but down there they just won’t let it. Can’t see me going back for a bloody drinks reception. Another pint, lads, then I have to be off. Grandson’s having a birthday party. Won’t do to turn up pissed”

We said our goodbyes, and I made my way home, and not that much later—far too soon—a medic was shoving a tube thing up my back passage. I didn’t understand a word of what they were saying, but the tube wasn’t as big as I’d feared and they had used something slippery that did whatever trick it was supposed to. The bad bit was after, when they stuck a needle in the crook of my arm to steal some blood. I had to go back in a week later, for something that involved lying very still and listening to rubbish pop music while an extremely noisy machine hammered away the other side of some ear protectors. They weren’t protecting me against the dreadful music, though.

I managed to put it out of my mind for a while, as life got hectic again. We had the trip to Belgium, of course, but before that Pete was back. Both Petes. Susie was fussing stupidly before we went over to Acaster.

“No staring at her, Gerald. No trying to see whether anything shows. And no hovering. We get us meal and drinks, and we sit and mind us own business. Let the girl see Pete has friends, but don’t hog their time. Got that? Mam? You too! No trying to see what the ring looks like. I know you too well”

Val drove us that evening, and we found a seat outside as the weather was set fair, or perhaps because Val thought it would give her more time to inspect the older of the two women for suitability. I was learning a lot from her daughter about women’s thought processes, and that in turn stopped my own thoughts in their tracks.

Susie was Susie. There was nothing in her that said man, bloke, chap, son, and although I had realised that years before, it was still difficult to forget how she had started life. Physically, she looked far better now than she had done when we first met on that awful February night, but I felt a lot of that was down to relaxing. She had never been anybody’s pushover, always ready to fight her corner, but as she settled into what she must have thought of as her real life, recovered after a long nightmare, the woman became more and more obvious. Andy was no doubt helping, but it was Val I suspected made the difference. I had seen the like before, where someone changes a wrong opinion so completely that they feel honour-bound to atone by correcting everyone else’s.

So, I took my lead from my girl, and we sat in the sun and waited for our friends Susie ordered and paid for our meal, after a sharp reminder to her fiancé that she earned more than him and wouldn’t be ‘kept’ like a kid, and I reconsidered my thoughts about her losing her prickliness.

“There they are…”

Val was almost whispering, but there was no way they could have heard her over the chatter of the other customers. Pete senior saw us, and I was surprised to see his son still in a chair, being pushed by a slim and slightly horse-faced blonde. The older woman was an absolute stunner, though, not a hair out of place and looking more Country Life than housewife.

Pete came over to our table. “Thanks for this, folks. Lets the girls see we’ve still got roots. They don’t know I’ve told you about Laura, none of them, so, not a word, yeah?”

He called them over. “You all know the boy, so I’ll leave him out, but this is Laura, my prospective daughter in law, and her mother Lucinda, my… my own intended. Lucy, Laura, this is my good friend Gerald, got the boatyard over there. His girl Susie, her mother Val, and Susie’s own intended, Andy”

There was an odd shuffling movement among the women that I caught out of the corner of my eye before realising that three of them, consciously or unconsciously, were shuffling their hands so that each left was visible. I was surprised at Laura, though, especially after my thoughts about Susie. I had half-expected some sort of recognition, common bond, whatever, but she just smiled, shook hands with us all and stayed completely fixed on young Pete. He, in turn, made his excuses about having to discuss a lot of family business and led the group off to another table.

Val was whispering again. “That’s a lad?”

Her daughter’s tone was cold. “Rephrase that, Mam”

“Sorry, love. You’re right. She’s besotted, isn’t she?”

Suddenly Susie was laughing. “See the two of them flashing their bloody rings?”

Andy put an arm around her shoulder. “That was three of you, love! Aye, that lass is stuck on him, but I were watching the lads. Neither of them were far behind. Mam’s a bit ice-queen, though”

Val shook her head. “Don’t think so. I were watching her, and she were watching everyone and everything. I think… Look, it’s a mother thing, but I suspect that she’d, well; that she’d kill for her daughter. Look at her now, look how close she is to Pete. That’s not being cold, that’s being protective”

Andy laughed out loud. “What? You mean like you were with me?”

Val gave him a flat stare. “Aye, son. Exactly like. I were wrong, years ago, but I learned better. Nobody hurts my daughter. Now, too serious for tonight. Susie: dresses. Bridesmaids. Reception”

They were off, and another week later so was I, as we all flew out to Belgium.

CHAPTER 72
That was a profoundly different experience to our earlier trip, and not just because the only real comrade I had with me on the second visit was Ernie. There was far more ceremony for starters, the two mayors seemingly trying to outdo each other in matters of sash and chain, and we were almost marched down the main street behind a brass band apparently made up of firemen. I didn’t think there were actually that many people in the village.

It was still a sweet moment, though, when we met new friends who were already old ones, and we got fed properly again, with an endless series of toasts. There was a plaque to be uncovered, some sort of town-twinning affair, and to be honest it all flew past me as the wine and beer were poured, and poured again. The filming, though: that hit home.

It wasn’t a bad morning, a lark singing through my hangover and wrens shouting in the hedgerows under what Susie had once told me were called ‘fair weather cumulus’, fluffy white clouds with flat bottoms sending shadows scudding over the land in the light breeze. The BBC had found a couple of odd vehicles for us, little eight-wheel things that looked like a cross between what Ian called a shuggy boat, a plastic kid’s toy car and a miniature DUKW. I was actually grateful for it, because the thought of trekking over the hills around our little ambush point was almost too much for me. They drove us up to the top of the little hill we had worked out THAT shot had come from, and Rom let us speak.

It an odd feeling, unlike the day in the studio, because we were standing out in the open, the camera and sound people all around us, and we had to try and make it sound natural. It was Chalky, in the end, who got it going properly.

“Down South it was all hills, Gerald. The Argies had them, we had to take them. Surprised your Ruperts didn’t have this one occupied”

Ian was shaking his head. “No, not here. Look at the line of the ridge. Jerry comes rolling along there in strength, anyone sat here would have to scarper downhill sharpish. Easy targets. Gerald, is that the house you laid up by?”

“Aye, with the oak just to left of the gate. We were behind the hedge, in that dip you can just see”

“Good spot, mate. Nice sight lines. Chalky, the way I heard it everything was happening double quick, krauts really moving. That right, mate?”

“Aye. Happen we had a screen out, and they came back in a hurry. Plan were to do what they always did to us, draw them onto gun line. We didn’t see that bit…”

We had already done a little piece for camera, laying a wreath at Wilf’s grave, Tom explaining that he would rather tell the story as what he called a voice-over rather than open up old wounds that would ever remain raw. Chalky was nodding, though.

“Bloody good position, Gerald. Ian’s not wrong there”

“Aye. We were lucky, me and Ernie, in our skipper. Bob Wainwright, really knew his stuff. He were the one pulled us out of tank when it were knocked out”

Get his name in there, Ginge. Make sure it’s on the record.

Ernie put a hand to my shoulder. “Aye, Gerald’s not wrong. Bob had been right through North Africa, up into Italy. Had a real feel for tactical positions, almost like he had a map in his head. Never picked a spot for us without having the next one sorted first”

Tom opened his mouth, and I held up a hand to shut him up before he said anything I’d have to answer. “He’s next to my wife and daughter, in York. Looking after them for me”

The other lads looked at me, Joe giving a sharp nod of understanding before saying his own piece.

“We’d got over there, just by that little hut on stilts. Fire-watch thing. Our boss, Mr Allsop, he says don’t be daft, no rubbish about whites of their eyes. See one of the bastards, shoot him. Fall back by sections, he said, fire and movement, low and fast. Get them moving our way. Then the Yeomanry went past, like shit off a shovel, and Lenny Crook, he sees first sod and he’s on money, but they’re good, they are. Got a Spandau going at us in no time, so it’s like the boss said. Bang off five rounds, retire by section, or what’s left after a few runs, till we get round shoulder of hill. Ian’s right on that one; if we’d been here, we’d not have got away. And they had tanks, Panthers I think, moving just behind their own infantry screen”

He turned away from the hill, looking down towards the house.

“That bridge, there. We got down to it, took it at a rush…”

His voice faltered, just then, eyes in the past.

“I can still hear the sound, you know. There’s all hell breaking loose, bullets going past, rattle of small arms, that fucking ripping sound of the Spandaus, AP rounds screaming to left and right, and it’s hobnails I remember. Hitting the road, over the bridge, the sound of our boot nails”

He paused again, shook his head as if to dislodge a fly.

“Lenny went just by that little recess thing there, place to get out of way of traffic. Shot through back of head, brains all over my smallpack. Left him there; no use doing owt else, he were obviously a goner”

Ernie laid an arm over his shoulder as he wept, and Chalky stepped round to pull him into a proper embrace. He was silent for about half a minute before stepping back from the Marine with a nod of thanks.

“So we got through the treeline, those of us who were left, and Mr Allsop, he was just like your mate Bob, Ernie, Gerald, he’s had us digging slit’uns day before, so we just tumble into them and catch our breath before giving the bastards shit again, but it’s different now, and that’s another noise I can still hear, and it’s the crack of a 17-pounder doing to them what they did to us so many times, and after we’ve brewed up enough of the bastards the boss is back. Fire and movement, lads, low and fast, and back at them”

Tom interrupted, obviously for the benefit of future viewers. “So after you had retreated, Joe, you went straight back out?”

Joe had obviously recovered his edge. “Aye. And we didn’t fucking stop till Denmark”

There was more, of course, more discussion of terrain, Ian and Chalky explaining how different it was in the Falklands bogs and on Yemeni desert hills, but that speech from Joe was clearly going to be the core of the finished show. Tom looked very happy indeed, a true tomcat and cream expression on his face, and after an evening of leave-taking with our Belgian friends we were back at the airport and flying home to Leeds-Bradford, where Val and her daughter were waiting for me. I felt utterly drained, and not just from the emotion of the moments on the hillside. I was getting old, obviously, but somehow I wasn’t finding the zip I had had.

There was post waiting for me, racked in the little wooden holder my Tricia had bought on our honeymoon, so many years before. One of the letters had an NHS postmark, so I slipped it into a pocket for later, sneaking it out to read when I went to the lavatory.

Another bloody appointment.

Three days later and I was back in the surgery, and it was a woman doctor, family obviously from somewhere in Africa or the Caribbean, and she had all sorts of stuff on her desk.

“Sit down, please, Mr Barker”

“Gerald”

She grinned, teeth startlingly white in her dark face. “I would feel I was being disrespectful if I called you that, Mr Barker! Now…”

The grin vanished as if it had been a camera flash, and she picked up the first of a number of very large envelopes.

“Mr Barker, we have a problem. These are the results of your endoscope examination as well as those of your MRI”

“My what?”

“Big noisy machine. Earphones, music?”

“Oh. Aye. Rubbish music, by the ay”

“I agree. By the way. That’s not the point. I need to speak to you about the results, and I would like you to go for some more tests. In fact, we need some bloods from you today. Do you have a note of your calendar, your diary, with you?”

She was talking around things, avoiding the point, and suddenly I felt I had had enough. Andy’s pushing and nagging, the memories from Belgium, even the letter rack and what that brought to mind, it was all too much.

“Doctor, get to the point. Please”

She looked away, shuffling her papers with a muttered ‘damn it’.

“Gerald, you want the straight dope?”

“Beg pardon?”

“You have cancer, my friend. Your issues with using the toilet, feeling out of sorts, fatigue? That is why. Sorry to be so blunt”

It knocked me back, to say the least, so I sat for a minute to gather my thoughts.

“Er, what and where, Doctor?”

She tried a smile, but this time it didn’t work.

“Prostate, Gerald. And colon. It’s got you coming and going—sorry, that was dreadful. Look, this is difficult to do, so I apologise if I am coming across as flippant”

I fought down the panic that her words brought. “What are the options, Doctor?”

I watched her, and she was breaking, and so I did what Chalky had done, rising to step round to her side of the little desk, to hold her, give the comfort she couldn’t offer me.

“Thank you, Mr Barker. You’re very kind. Now, please—I need to tell you some things, and I will be better saying them to your face rather than into your chest”

I sat again, and she rubbed her eyes.

“We had suspicions after your back passage examination, which is why we did the MRI. We need another MRI, of different areas, in order to check out what we suspect is happening”

Steady, Ginge. Sit up straight and do your job. Bob’s voice was clear in my head.

“Secondaries, Mr Barker. We haven’t established which part of you went wrong first, but we suspect it was the colon, and there has been what we all metastasis. That is where other parts of you sort of come out in sympathy. We have no idea as yet where and how much. That is why we need another scan, and why the blood sample”

She looked out of her window, then back at me.

“This is the bit where you ask me how long you have. I’m not going to lie to you, because if the cancers have gone as far as we suspect then there is nothing that can be done”

One more, she tried to smile, but it still wasn’t in her.

“That means that anything we find out different will be good news. We’re at a crossroads, my friend. We need to see how deep the shit is in which you are afloat. If it is too deep… Well, there are therapies involving chemicals, radiation and so on, but, well, I will put no false gloss on the picture. We may simply be looking at palliative care”

“Sorry?”

“Making you comfortable, Mr Barker. As comfortable as we can, until, well. Until”

CHAPTER 73
I ended up walking past my car, my mind elsewhere. As Susie would put it, I was on autopilot. I had wondered, I had worried, but even with Andy’s nagging I had managed to put it to the back of my mind. Once again, I thought of Susie’s turn of phrase: I had been in that African river, de Nile.

Stupid, stupid man, covering my fear with silly jokes. I had torn a promise from the doctor not to speak to anyone else at the surgery, not to send any correspondence through her office, for I knew who would see it and to whom she would immediately pass it on. I had duties to perform, and I wanted them to be happy ones. I hesitated for a few minutes, standing outside the car, but in the end I put away my mobile phone and left Matthew’s number undialed. I had more important things to do, getting Darren settled into his new role being one. There was no question as to my will, which would be a simple one. I had nobody left in my life apart from the girl who had dragged me wet and shaking from a February river. The boys were the boys, comrades all, but they were all of an age with me, and they would no doubt soon be on my path. There was room…

That shook me. There was room, had been my thought, with Tricia and my other two loves, and it was with open heart and soul that I realised, deeply and clearly, that Bob had indeed loved me, as I had loved him. Not in the same way, but just as deeply.

Fuck. That was the word, drawn from Bob’s vocabulary, and it fitted. All of the wonderful developments that were making my life better by proxy, all those things going so well for my friends, I was not to see. There were two Peters to see married, old friends on the other side of the world to visit, comrades to march with each November—all of that would be lost.

No, Ginge: brave face. Leave their lives unruffled for as long as you can. Your last act of courage, only outdone by the strength it had taken to ask my sweet lady for her hand in marriage.

Maudlin old fool. I took out my phone again, and the boy answered on the third ring.

“What can I do you for, Gerald? At work just now”

“Ah, son, just wondered what you are doing about wedding”

That word: it felt right.

“Well, were going to see when registry office is free”

“Registry office, son? Look, been talking with the other lads, the Officers and that, and we’re looking at a proper do. Spring for a dress, reception, so on. Just need right church”

“Really? REALLY? We can’t take that from you!”

“Who pulled me out of Ouse, son?”

“Gerald… You’re not going to take a refusal, are you?”

“No, not at all”

“Well… Look. Had us eye on St Paul’s, over Holgate Road, or perhaps St Mary’s. up at Tadcaster. Not had chance to talk with vicar, like. Not thought of doing it so soon”

“Leave it with me. I’ll stop by, see what they say”

I hung up before he could argue, and this time I did ring Matthew.

“Dear boy! Is a star of the small screen actually deigning to talk to a lesser mortal?”

“Oh give over, you daft so and so. Look, I’ve sort of made a promise on your behalf, so wanted to make sure I didn’t stuff up”

“What have you promised, my friend?”

I outlined the wedding plans, and he was silent for nearly a minute. I could hear him breathing, so I knew he was still there, but he said nothing at all until very quietly speaking my name.

“Aye?”

“What exactly did the doctor tell you, my friend?”

“Ah, nowt much. Just cut down on the Sunday roasts and that”

“Dear boy, please do me the courtesy of not lying to one who loves you as a brother. What did the MO say?”

“Er… Matthew. It’s not that good, but I’ll get over it, she says”

“Gerald. Please”

I kept my own peace for a little while, but in the end I told all, and to my horror I heard a sob from the other end. H breathed heavily for a little while, recovering his control, and then said, quite simply, “Julian? Charles?”

“Matthew, dear friend, comrade, brother, aye? What she says, well, I don’t think there’s any room for wriggling about with this. It’s there, it’s nasty, it can’t be argued with. Doc says there is only a slender hope, and we’ll see about that next week. I’m due another scan”

“Have you told Rodney?”

“Ah, that’s the thing, Matthew. I didn’t really want to tell anyone”

“Give the young ones a good wedding? No ghosts at the feast? Yes… You have always been the most honourable of men, Gerald Barker, the most generous of spirit. Would you like me to inform Rodney for you?”

“I didn’t really---“

“He must know, Gerald. We all owe him that. We are comrades, my friend, brothers in arms. We do not fight alone, ever. Now, you have a church to visit”

He hung up, quickly, but not before I heard the rattle of a glass and decanter.

St Mary’s was a stunning place, right by the river, and I wondered how dry it kept. I walked in through the side door, whatever they called it, and stood for a while in the cool of the limestone walls, drinking in the peace held there.

“We have a guide to the church, just a pound”

A chubby woman in her forties was holding out a photocopied pamphlet to me.

“Er, aye. Here’s a fiver, put it in tin or whatever. Could you tell me if vicar’s about?”

“I could, and they are about, and it’s me. Ruth Harding”

“Oh sorry, love. Er, Reverend”

She smiled, and it reached her eyes in a nice way.

“I’ve seen you somewhere before”

“Oh, sorry. No manners. Gerald Barker. I’ve got boat yard down by Acaster”

“Ah! And you are looking after Valerie Lockwood’s daughter”

“You know Susie?”

“I knew Darren, and I know Valerie. She spoke to me about her child, looking for answers. I believe you are the man who provided them”

“Er, perhaps. What it is, lad has his cap set at her, and---”

“Yes”

“Beg pardon?”

“You wish to ask if I would be able to wed them. Yes. Valerie has already been in to see me”

I tried to laugh, and she took my arm. “I have a kettle and biscuits in the vestry, Gerald. I suspect we have other things to talk of”

All my resolve to keep everything a secret was flying out of the window, for she was good, very good, and to my shame I ended up just like Matthew. She was patient, and she was gentle in her questioning.

“Gerald, I offer no platitudes, but I must ask one thing. Do you believe?”

“You mean in church stuff? Well, aye”

“I don’t ask if you ‘do’ church, Gerald. I simply ask if you are indeed a believer in Our Lord. Don’t worry; I’m not here to trap you, it’s just that there is no point speaking of my beliefs to someone who does not share them”

I thought for a moment, and the answer was there, and yes, I did. I realised that it was something I had never understood, but I knew, clearly and simply, that my people waited for me. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but all the times I had spoken to them where they lay, not just twice a year, all those times had been the only thing that had truly kept me tied to the world.

“Yes. I do believe”

“Then please tell me a little of your life”

Once more, as I had done with Susie that awful night, I spoke of France, Belgium and that horrible place in Germany, of comrades—brothers—both lost and saved. I spoke of a German, shot down in the white snow, so much red as he fell. I spoke of my Tricia, and heard a mutter of “Job!” from Reverend Harding.

“What would you do, Gerald?”

“I would see a lad and lass have the best day they can, with friends and family”

“You would seek to keep your state of health a secret from them?”

“Aye. As I said, best day they can”

“Have you been given a… Have you been told the speed at which things may get worse for you?”

“No. I have another scan in a few days. That should tell us more, and they’re doing blood tests”

“Ah, yes. Abnormal proteins and so on. I have a number of free weekends. I will pencil you in for all of them, and we shall pick the most suitable when we know more”

“What about other folk?”

“They can wait. Would you pray with me?”

I would, and we did.

CHAPTER 74
I left the church feeling far more optimistic than before my entry. Ruth (“My dad was the Reverend, Gerald”) was far from the stuffy man I remembered from our old family church, seeming more like the Padre we had fought next to over the Channel. She had depths to her that seemed to show that history of some complicated sort lay behind her smile, and more than that she made me feel good about and happy within myself.

I made a promise to that self, that I would spend more time with her, perhaps see her at work, sing the old songs, say the prayers that were bringing clear sight back to me. I actually found myself singing when I drove back to the boatyard.

“Someone’s happy!”

“Aye, Doreen. Got some news for lass—she about?”

“Aye, down at shop, looking at some more of that tat she gets in”

“Tat that makes us a good living, love. Don’t knock it”

She grinned. “Wasn’t going to, Mr Barker! She’s turned this old place upside down, but that’s no complaint. Her and the bus man both. Now, I’ve had call from Legion while you were out. That telly thing”

“Aye?”

“Well, lads say they want to make it a proper night when it comes on. Almost like being at pictures, big screen and all. Just better food. Doing it as a fund raiser for Club”

“And?”

“Well, guest of honour, you, that is. Not me. You and that Ernie fellow. Oh, and lad says as could you see if Officers would be free”

I felt a little spike of anxiety just then, for it would obviously mean meeting Matthew again so soon after our embarrassment over the phone.

“I’ll let them know, Doreen. Now: owt else to sort?”

“Not really. The lass has cleared the decks right well. Just got one thing, that new cruiser we’ve had on order. They can drop it by next week”

“And?”

“And young Darren’s already got it in hand. Cradle’s cleared, berth’s set aside, and he’s set two of the lads to get the insides fettled”

I shook my head, smiling.

“You feeling a bit like a spare part yourself, Mr Barker? I’ll put kettle on. Still stuff from accountants to sign. You’re not out to grass yet, you’ll have some time to relax when you retire”

“Ah, how could I ever leave you lot? Like second home here”

I settled down to pick through the letters the girl had left for me, and ten minutes later she was back in with a bundle of cloth and Darren in her slipstream, for it did feel as if she was moving like some high-speed train.

“Gerald! What do you think?”

Darren was chuckling. “Place gets more and more hers every day, if you take my point, Mr Barker”

“Doreen says new boat’s due, and you’ve sorted fettling”

“Aye. Get it in cradle first; don’t trust dry gaskets and that. Give undersides a good look-at. Then she goes in at number six; the one there now’s due off to do Ring tomorrow. That’s what Susie’s at”

“Aye?”

She held out the cloth bundle. “What do you thin

It was a number of towels, pillow cases and wash cloths, all with an arty and stylised picture of a narrowboat and the words “Dobson and Barker” in copperplate lettering. Susie was in familiar mode just then, that defiant expression on her face along with the stance that shouted simultaneously ‘Don’t hit me…’ along with ‘Go ahead and try!’

“And? Problem?”

“No, just wondering what brought it on”

“Marketing, that’s what”

“But they’ll just---“

“Just what, Gerald? Nick linen? We take deposit off them, we already do, and we just take cost back if there’s owt missing. So if they take summat, they’ve already paid for it, and it sits at their home as a reminder. Ey up, our Freda, remember’t great holiday we had on’t boat? And then they come back, or their mates see a towel, and ask, and word goes round. We get another booking”

The lad was laughing out loud now. “Mr Barker, remember how she were when she first came? Proper out of shell now!”

I smiled back. “Aye, I remember. Now then, got a minute, my girl?”

Her face fell, and all at once I saw how fragile she really was, how the fear never actually left her.

“No, good news, Susie. Can you two give us a minute?”

They popped out for whatever reason they could find, and I sat her down.

“I were talking with Andy, lass. About venue”

“Venue?”

"Oh for… Church, love. I went and had a look at the places he suggested and I’ve got an offer from the vicar at St Mary’s”

“What? Up at Taddy? That place is gorgeous! You’re serious?”

“Absolutely. Vicar says they’ll keep dates free for you”

“How much?”

“No idea, and not important”

“No. Speak to Mam. You don’t pay for all of that stuff. It’s my day, mine and Andy’s. Family”

I took a deep breath, fighting back the need to confess all in a great purge.

“So I’m not family, then? I know you’ve got your Mam, but, well, you know how I feel about you”

She looked straight at me for nearly a minute, wordless.

“How do you feel, Gerald?”

“I… I had a daughter, Susie. A daughter I lost, with the woman I loved, and still do. I know I’m old, I know the hair’s gone, all the rest of it, but I never stopped being a man”

I took a couple of slow breaths. “I never stopped being that young man in love, aye, in love with his beautiful wife, finest woman I have ever known, aye? And it were all gone, all lost, and then there you are, and name, aye? Name calls to me, and I never had chance to see my flesh and blood grow, and fall in love, never got to see her down aisle, hand her over to decent lad to see her own family grow, and here I am with you, and aye, I know you’ll say it, you’re not my daughter and…

“And I know that, but as far as I am concerned you are just that, and if you will allow me, I will see you wed, as any Dad would, and I will walk you down the aisle, and I think… I really think you’ve got a decent lad there. How was it you put it? Got a problem?”

She did, and it was tears, and a rush to the toilets for a couple of minutes before she came back in just as much a hurry to throw her arms around me and sob into my shoulder. It took a while before she could speak properly, but she was clear when she did, and it was right and proper.

“We call Mam, now, Gerald”

The phone rang six times before Valerie answered, and Susie seemed barely able to gabble out the news before stopping to listen, occasionally making grunts and uh-uhs before handing me the little device with a slightly puzzled look.

“Wants a word with you, Gerald”

“Aye?”

Valerie’s voice was surprisingly clear for such a small speaker.

“You’ve been busy, Gerald”

“Er, aye. Something needs sorting, best sorted soon as possible”

“Not what I meant, and you know it. Why now? Look…”

She took a long, slow breath, letting it out in a sigh.

“I will talk for both of us so she can’t hear. I didn’t think I could ever do this, but someone knocked my head against wall, slapped sense into me about my child, and that were you. I could never see her for myself. I couldn’t lose sight of my son, like, and then you shoved her right in my face and, well… It were that lad an’ all, that Andy. He can see her, and the more I see them together, the realer she is, and the more sense she makes. Are you with me, Gerald?”

“Aye, I am”

“He’s a good lad, that Andy, and we talk”

“Oh”

“Aye. ‘Oh’ is bloody well right, and he told me about his cousin. Now, there’s an odd thing there, cause she’d been seeing all those letters that were going out about you, all that stuff about booking scans, and then, all of a sudden, nowt. Not a sausage. Not an appointment, not a note on calendar, but there you are, still seeing doc”

Her next breath was strangled, but she got the words out.

“How long have they given you, love?”

That word of Bob’s again. “Er, vicar says she’s got dates through summer she can give us”

A sob, but she had strength, as much in her as in Matthew, I realised, and she brought it to bear.

“So not that long, then. And you’d see her wed before you go”

“Aye, That’s right”

“Gerald… Gerald, my love, there is no fucking justice in this world. Sorry, shouldn’t use language. You are a wonderful man, Mister Barker. We’ll talk. Got to go”

She hung up, and I passed the telephone back to her daughter.

“Right, lass, we need to sort out this Legion thing. Get hold of Rodney, dinner at Club to watch the telly show. You and Andy up for that?”

CHAPTER 75
Matthew was as solidly cheerful as I should have expected, and we made quite the show of old warriors at the top table. Some judicious work by phone had secured the attendance of all the lads from the show, and I found myself looking forward to watching it. I stayed off the booze as my guts were not feeling too well, but the food went down well, and of course I was with friends. Such a different night to a certain evening one February. Val was sitting at another table along with Susie and Andy, and there was a large group from the yard.

The tables had been arranged so the we all got a view of the big screen that had been set up at one end of the main room, with some sort of electronic thing that projected the television onto something almost as big as the Army Kinema Corps lads had used in the field. They dimmed the lights, and we were off.

They had added lots of extra bits we hadn’t seen filmed, and it had all been broken up with comments and spliced in ways that made it seem as if we were seeing something brand new rather than a simple recording. It started with Tom standing on a hillside I remembered all too well. He was wearing a blue waterproof jacket.

“Throughout recorded history there has been conflict. Wars, piracy, invasion; whatever form it took there has been a need for human beings to put themselves in harm’s way to protect family and home, country and culture. With the benefit of hindsight, we may not always agree with the justification offered for such violence, but we cannot ignore the effect that involvement in conflict has on the mind and soul. Tonight, we will be with a group of men who survived in at least three cases true hell on Earth, while they were at…The Sharp End”

The image changed to one of me doing my level best to look intelligent and managerial as Darren worked on a Bolinder, and Tom’s voice came out with a few platitudes about daily work, and one by one the other lads were introduced. There had been a small cheer as I appeared on the screen, and similar noises came with each of the little vignettes, Joe’s in particular. There was footage of tanks moving off the beach in Normandy, some dusty place I realised must have been Aden, and finally a shot of someone with a moustache and a huge pack turning away from the camera as his lips clearly formed that word of Bob’s. The Falklands, obviously. For each scene, Tom’s commentary placed one or more of us at the centre, and then we saw the ceremony in Belgium, complete with the fire brigade band and a brace of mayors. Once more, Tom gave location and potted history, this time in person to the camera.

“Three of the men we are with today left friends in this village as they fought to stop a German attack which was part of what is popularly called The Battle of the Bulge”

The picture changed to the little lounge we had sat in, where the filming had been done almost in stealth, and once again I heard the words.

“What was your job, Gerald?”

“Were you ever knocked out?”

There was silence in the hall as my recorded voice told the story, and it faded into images of a wreath going on Wilf’s grave, before coming back to Joe, whose face frightened me.

“I were there too. Had some [short silence] bastard in British kit we took away and strung up”

At the bit about ‘how much blood…all over fresh snow…’ I felt Rodney’s hand squeezing my shoulder. Tom’s people followed it up with Joe’s account of their scurrying retreat over the bridge, his mate’s brains all over Joe’s own webbing, and I had to go for some air. I don’t know whether it was the editing, the way the pictures and words flowed so neatly one into the other, or my illness making itself felt, but I just had a sudden urge to breathe. Ernie was there, of course, as he always had been, and then Val and her daughter. The older woman looked worried.

“Gerald? OK, love?”

“Oh, aye. As rain. Just all a bit, you know. Memories, seeing Wilf’s face, hearing him ask…”

On cue, Ernie chipped in. “Time for a brew?”

My mood broke, once again so quickly, and I just had to laugh. “Come on. Bloody guests of honour shouldn’t be skulking about outside”

Val hugged me. “Did you just swear, Gerald Barker?”

“I bloody well did, Valerie Lockwood! Come on, let’s sort ourselves out before thieving hands pinch our dinner”

Everyone inside did their best to seem unconcerned, but there were still one or two sharp glances, and the show continued.

“It were four days before he were found…”

“A job for coppers, not for soldiers…”

Stock footage I had seen so often of THAT place in Germany, intercut with footage of myself, Joe and Ernie staring off into the wastelands of our memories.

And so it went, right up to “So we all drops us trousers and…”

To my astonishment, the scene changed to what was obviously a very old photograph, in black and white. I looked at Ernie, and he winked, as I turned back to the screen. An army wagon, passing a great stream of men on foot, one whole side filled with men bent double, facing away from the Germans, battledress trousers pushed down to their knees as they ‘showed Jerry exactly what they thought of him’.

The scene changed once more to that well-remembered hill, and Tom in his blue jacket.

“We are here once more at the place where Gerald Barker and Ernie Roberts sat in their Cromwell tank and watched their friends burn, although Ernie couldn’t actually see. He just had to listen to them dying over his radios set. Where Joe Eyres crouched waiting for the orders to leave his shelter and pass through the wreckage to take on the enemy with bullet and bayonet. We have heard these men speak of what they went through, the friends they lost, the men they saw die. The ones they killed themselves, looking into their eyes.

“We have seen the way they managed to keep their humanity, their sense of humour, even if it did take on a harder edge”

Once more, the scene changed, and we were in the garden of a house in Belgium, as our friends pointed to the dip, the hedge.

“And we have seen that other people remember that the men in question gave them life, and liberty, and freedom from fear. Men who stood at The Sharp End”

The credits started right then, and instead of music it was Tom’s voice again, doing his honest best to drum up donations for the Legion. I sat in silence for a little while, and then it was broken as first one, then more, then all of the lads and ladies present stood to applaud us at our little table. It was odd; I didn’t feel pride, but in the end it had turned out to be just like that February night. It had been an education then for two of us, as Susie discovered what I had had to bear and in turn showed me that I was not the guilty one, not a coward, not a failure. I looked at the faces round me, I listened to the head of the local club speaking about honour, and debt, and example, and I knew, at last, that I was actually worth something. I hadn’t failed. I hadn’t run. I had all those around me as evidence of what we had done, me, Ernie, Joe, Chalky, all those lads who had set out and maybe not had a Bob to bring them home.

I couldn’t help it and the tears flowed. Matthew was on one side, Val on the other, the two who knew what was going on, and the old man, my old friend, just whispered three words into my ear.

“Courage. Not shame”

The first very nearly failed me again, for I understood that this was not to last, that I would leave them all too soon, but the hands in mine, the arms over my shoulders, they were there, and they would be to the end.

Courage, Ginge. Not a bloody thing to be ashamed of. I had people around me who loved me, and they were of the finest. If they felt like that about me, how could I disagree with their estimation?

Bob’s voice came back to me, from that awful day on a Normandy hillside. Do your job. Up straight, Trooper Barker. You have a daughter to see wed.

Do your job.

CHAPTER 76
I walked up to the side door again, letting myself in and going directly to the vestry, where Ruth, naturally, had the kettle on ready. She already knew my habits, and I had a sudden warm memory of Wilf’s. Time for a brew?

The doctor had been as gentle as she could be, but her message couldn’t be mistaken.

“So what’s plan, then, Doctor?”

She rubbed her eyes. “We have a hospice, my friend. They are… Making people comfortable is what they do. There is also a wonderful organisation called Macmillan who offer specialist nurses and help with respite care”

“Beg pardon?”

“Gerald, you will soon start getting very ill. From what you tell me, you have a very supportive family and…”

“There’s just me, Doctor”

“Oh, Gerald, and that young lady, and her mother, and her young man, they aren’t family? Bloody men! Sorry. Gerald, respite care means that Macmillan offer your own carers, your own FAMILY, a break every now and then. This process is never easy for anyone involved”

I left before she could break, taking with me some contact leaflets for a hospice and Macmillan, resolving to make sure they were kept out of sight. I wasn’t really sure where I was going, but of course I ended up at the cemetery, where the sun was warm on the bench that Darren had surprised me with a couple of days before.

A brass plaque was attached to it, giving thanks to Bob and the Barker family, and I sat for twenty minutes or so, silent but telling all to the three of them as they lay under the little pots of flowers Val and Susie looked after.

Game over for now, Ginge. Come in number 14, your time is up. Still enough of it to see a lad and a lass wed and happy, though. I settled my cap and continued to Tadcaster and Ruth.

We had been praying together on a regular basis now, and to be honest it was helping me to see things as they really were. Dad had always talked of spilt milk, and Mam was of the same mind. No crying over milk, nor over what can’t be helped. Just get on and make the best of it.

“The Doctor is sure, Gerald?”

“Aye, Ruth. Never been a tomcat, just got the one, and, well, it’s done”

“And what do you think of it?”

“What, cancer?”

“No, love, your life. Do you feel you did it justice?”

I went to say something, and she held up both hands.

“I watched the telly show you were on, love. I listened to that young man, what he said. My Dad married his parents, by the way, so I know the family. You made a huge difference there, Gerald, just like you did back in the forties. And you’ve not had a bad run, really, before you head on upstairs”

I raised an eyebrow, and she smiled.

“The test of a good life, love, is that you leave the world a better place than you found it. Believe me when I say that is a test you passed with flying colours. Shall we pray?”

I left her place almost singing because she had switched topics so quickly after our devotions.

“Here, grab the phone”

“Eh?”

“You may be a good man, Gerald Barker, but you’ve never been brightest in your conversation! Val and Susie have been busy, and you have four weeks on Saturday. Pete’s organised cars for you, Val’s sorted dresses out, just rehearsals to go”

“When did this all happen?”

She laughed. “Men never see what is under their noses! Anyway, you’ve been a bit preoccupied, love. Andy’s got you an appointment at MossBros next week. Morning suit, aye?”

“Nobody spoke to me?”

Her smile softened again. “Valerie knows all, doesn’t she?”

“Aye”

“Well, talk to her. She said to me that if there had to be a deadline, it would be one you would be able to meet. She’s a very determined woman, is Valerie Lockwood”

I laughed out loud at that. “So why phone?”

“Guests. Andy and Susie have sorted theirs, and the girl says she wants as many of your comrades and friends there as possible. You’ll laugh, but a lad from your boatyard has been speaking to the local lads in khaki, and we won’t be using the organ that day. Now, there’s a list of who she wants you to call. Don’t worry about call charges; as long as each one is less than an hour, I get them free”

It wasn’t just a list, for my girl had added little notes to some of them, and I was astonished at the breadth of the names she had listed, and the depth it showed in her character.

“Rodney? What are you up to four weeks come Saturday?”

“Matthew…”

“Joe?”

A surprise: “Tom? Gerald Barker”

“Oh, hello, mate! Great to hear from you! What did you think?”

“Er... I was right taken with young Ashley’s bit. Rest was good, too. Just, well, memories, aye?”

“I understand. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

“You know I have a sort of adopted daughter? Susie?”

“The one you took on your coach trip?”

“The very one. She gets wed four weeks on Saturday, in Tadcaster…”

“Mr Barker, you are a star!”

“Eh?”

“Would you mind a camera crew?”

“I were only ringing to ask on her behalf, like, if you wanted to come to wedding!”

“Oh, it’s ever thus. Look: human interest piece on local news, war hero sees daughter married. As long as she’s happy with that”

“I’m not a war hero, Tom”

“Oh for fuck’s fucking sake! Didn’t you watch the fucking show? Sorry. Shouldn’t. Yes, I’ll be there, and if the young lady agrees we will give her a better record than any poncey wedding video hack can do. Either way, I will be proud to be there, my friend”

“I’ll ask lass”

“Please!”

Deep breaths. Dial again.

“Laura Evans!”

“Oh, hello. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Gerald Barker, from York way”

“Oh, of course I remember! Dad and Pete’s friend!”

‘Dad’? The old smoothie!

“Aye, the very same. What are you up to four weeks on Saturday?”

She laughed, and I had a flash of memory of a robot in a lecture theatre.

“Oh, Dad’s already passed that news. The young lady’s getting you to do all the ringing round?”

“Seems like!”

“Well, we’re already sorted. Cunning plan on my part, getting another man used to walking down an aisle in a suit”

“Oh? Pete’s, you know?”

“Not legless any more? Sorry, that’s his joke. Ollie’s done wonders—that’s his physio—and he’s not quite there yet, but, well, he’s walking as much as he can, so yes. Which side?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Bride or groom?”

“Oh, bride, I would say”

“We will see you there, then. Got a pen? I will give you our address for the RSVP”

I made another inarticulate noise, she muttered “Men!” before reading out where she lived, and I had a flash memory of Valerie saying “That’s a lad?”

The last number was an odd one, far longer than normal, and it rang for quite a while before a grumpy-voiced man answered.

“Yeah? Better be a bloody good reason waking a bloke up this time of night!”

My heart skipped a beat. How had she found the number?

“Bill…?

There was silence for about fifteen seconds, then he spoke again, far more gently.

“Sorry, mate, whoever you are, but Dad passed away last year, assuming that’s who you were after. Could I ask who you are?”

“Wilfie…?”

“Oh my God…Uncle Gerald? Really? Uncle bloody Gerald? Debs, Christ, get me some paper and pen!”

I looked across at Ruth as I realised exactly where the number was, and she just nodded sharply, clearly aware.

“Not a problem, love”

Wilfie was talking away from the phone, obviously to his wife or whatever she was, and then he was back.

“Uncle Gerald? Do you do Skype?”

“Skype? What’s that?”

Ruth called out “Hang on, love, and I will sort. Can I take the phone?”

She had a quick conversation I couldn’t follow, writing down what I recognised as some sort of computer address, then hung up and switched on her own machine. There was some delay as she did things on the keyboard, and then a picture formed. It was jerky, but clear, and there was sound, and a middle-aged couple in dressing gowns. Ruth stood, waving me to take her seat.

“Uncle Gerald? Really you?”

Ruth whispered, “Just talk normally” and so I did.

“Hello, son”

“Oh sweet Jesus. Debs, I told you about Dad, yeah? War and that? And my own father? This is the man who served with them. My Uncle Gerald. He used to take me out on boats in the river. Mate, Uncle… My memories back then, you know, it seems like it was always summer? Climbing trees, eating jam sandwiches? Mum was very fond of you, you know. Said you were always the safe pair of hands. Sorry. Shouldn’t bloody cry. Sorry, Debs. Uncle, there better be a bloody good reason for this call, and I don’t mean for disturbing me. I just mean I hope you rang because of something good, something happy”

“Er, aye. Got a… Got a daughter getting wed in four weeks from this Saturday, and she gave us a list of people to ring, so sorry I woke you, and all”

“Don’t be silly. Just that I have to be off to work in a while, and, well, getting on a bit. Need my beauty sleep, unlike my own blushing bride here. Look: this is Skype, lets us talk cheaply, not like a phone call. Your friend there—bloody vicar? Ah well. Sorry, Vicar! Get this lot noted and I’ll mail you from work, set up time for a proper chinwag. I want to know everything!”

I took it all down, and of course Ruth was there with tea and a hanky, and four weeks flew by, filled with suit-fittings that were suddenly abandoned as another and finer suit was delivered marked ‘Courtesy of the R.E.R. and R.T.R.’

That day came, a grinning Wilfie and his beautiful wife arriving three days beforehand, so much to discover, to share, to unearth from the vault I kept all my favourite memories in. Ruth was so right about living a life well, for we only received one, and there was no training. Everyone learns on the job and there are no second chances for the big mistakes.

I had watched as the guests assembled, young Pete so much taller than I remembered, his fiancée looking radiant beside him. Our Officers, all of them, were in uniform, along with Ernie, Joe, all the old and new comrades. The Royal East Ridings’ band made all the right noises for the day, while Val just sat weeping quietly to one side of the aisle. I could just make out Andy with Darren standing before Ruth.

That had been an interesting conversation.

“Surely one of your own friends, son?”

“They were never my friends, Gerald. What they tried to get me to do with my girl was just a piss-take, right nasty. That lad there, he’s been at her back since day she started with you. Nobody else comes up to that, ‘cept you, and you’re busy that day”

He started to laugh, and I gave him a look to ask what was funny.

“It’s the name, Gerald. Susie says having him there as best man finally kills off what she used to be called. Symmetrical, she says”

So, there we are. I straighten my uniform, settling the stable belt in three colours: mud, blood, green fields. My daughter takes my arm, beautiful in white, smiling up at me. I can hear the brass of the East Ridings’ band playing the wedding march and see their honour guard at the church door and, in my mind’s eye, the other people watching over, smiling as they do so. Maurice, our accountant who became an officer. Harry, smiling now, and Wilf, with that cheeky grin set in place.

Dear, sweet, loving Bob.

My darling, my love, my life, my Tricia, my other Susie, cradled in her arms.

I will be with you soon, my loves.