Bold, Brash and Brave Page 5

  Just then, a plumpish woman with jet-black hair, aged about thirty, entered the room. She wore a long black dress with a white apron over it, and carefully carried a tray with plain white dishes on it, from which she daintily began to serve soup.

  Timothy smiled and thanked her when she got to his place, but noticed that no one else did. He decided they were bad-mannered, but politely turned to the Major’s wife, and stuffily replied, ‘My family are farmers. A profession we all have to give our thanks to because it nurtures life by providing food. Without farmers, we would all starve.’

  The Major sniggered. Timothy heard, and looking directly in Mrs Templeton-Smythe’s eyes quickly added, ‘Please, I meant no insult. My upbringing has not been very sophisticated or elegant, despite its value.’

  ‘I understand fully, Timothy,’ she said, smiling faintly. Penelope remained quiet while she ate her meal, and occasionally Timothy eyed her. He found her very good looking, and he began to be nervous again, recalling that he had never eaten in the presence of a young lady before. He didn’t realise that Penelope had taken a shine to him and couldn’t wait until after dinner, knowing that her mother was going out for the evening and her father usually drowsed in a fireside chair.

  Trying to distract himself from thinking about Penelope, Timothy began to assess the food, and decided that it was not up to his mother’s standard. After the main course, which seemed to be a pork stew with mixed root vegetables, the maid brought him a sweet containing a thick cream, and he stared at it dubiously. Penelope studied his face, and then asked, ‘Do you not like it?’

  Recalling his manners, Timothy tasted it and smiled, replying, ‘It is very nice, and thank you.’

  As soon as the Major’s wife finished her meal, she excused herself politely, stood up and left the room without another word. The major watched her go, and half-smiling, declared, ‘It’s time for a smoke now,’ and standing up, pushed his chair back.

  As the Major strolled over towards the fireplace, and when he was out of earshot, Penelope quickly glanced at Timothy, and smilingly asked, ‘Did you enjoy your meal?’

  ‘It was very nice,’ he replied, then took a gulp of water.

  She smirked, teasingly. ‘I can tell you are lying.’

  ‘I am not, and please do not suggest that I would insult your parents’ hospitality when they have granted me lodgings. I feel ashamed by your insinuation,’ he gasped, and rather regimentally sprang to his feet. ‘Tim, please, sit down,’ said Penelope, and when he did, he had to smile.

  Looking around, Tim sniffed the air, and then noticed a plush red armchair and the back of the Major’s head. ‘Come and have a smoke, lad,’ shouted the Major, and then a cloud of blue tobacco smoke rose in the air.

  ‘No thanks, I can’t stand the smell of tobacco,’ Timothy replied, as he waved the air with his hand.

  ‘Please yourself. It’s one of my only pleasures, you know,’ sniggered the Major before resting his head back.

  ‘Thank goodness, because neither can I,’ whispered Penelope, standing up. Recalling his manners, Timothy immediately stood up, but was surprised when Penelope walked around the table to him, slipped her arm in his and asked ‘Let’s go for a walk?’

  Bewildered, he asked, ‘Where to?’ He had noticed on their arrival that the house was nearly in the centre of a long stone terraced row of about ten houses.

  ‘Just follow me,’ she replied, and led him towards a door.

  They ambled through the house, which was much larger than he had thought. Timothy took note of the directions they went in, until they entered the kitchen. He smiled at the maid who had served them dinner; she now had her sleeves rolled up, and was up to her elbows in a large white sink washing up the dishes. Penelope tugged him towards a large door.

  As they went outside, Timothy could make out a shrubbery and four tall trees bordering a large garden, although it was nearly dark. Sniffing the fresh air, he instantly thought of home, and smiled as he noticed the large halo around the moon. He smiled again as Penelope squeezed his arm, and couldn’t believe his luck at walking in a lovely garden in the moonlight with a beautiful woman.

  At the farm, Timothy’s letter arrived in the morning, and George and Henry turned up early in the afternoon. Timothy had written that he had to report to a training course, and so couldn’t return home, and Mahala was very upset. Her tears turned to relief as she heard voices and dashed to the door, and when George and Henry walked inside she cried for joy among all the hugs and kisses. Joseph stared with amazement at his sons’ uniforms, and realised that for the first time, they did look like men. He watched as each in turn hugged their mum, but somehow, in the back of his mind, held the thought that he wouldn’t see Timothy again.

  After he had shaken hands with his father, who clapped him on the back, George dashed into their bedroom to quickly change. Mahala had to smile, knowing where he was going, and when he came out, she shouted, ‘Don’t you be late for dinner; it will be ready at five.’

  ‘Right, mum, I won’t be long,’ he replied, turned back and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before dashing out of the house.

  ‘So, Henry, you might as well sit down, lad, and bring us up to date. It can’t all have been a bed of roses,’ said Joseph, sitting down at the table.

  ‘You’re right there, dad, and you’ll never guess what happened to George on our first night,’ he replied, and sat down opposite him.

  Florence was washing up, gazing dreamily out of the window, when she saw George coming up the path. She stared at him in disbelief, and then suddenly flew out of the house shrieking. She threw her arms around his neck, and greedily kissed him. Her father heard the door bang, opened it and stared at them in disgust. ‘Hey you two, let’s have less of that,’ he grumbled.

  Florence’s mother looked over his shoulder, and knowing that out of sight was out of mind when it came to her husband, she quickly shouted, ‘Florence, will you go over to Mrs Hardcastle’s house and get me a roll of lace, please—she promised it to me last week.’

  Florence and George set off down the lane, Florence smiling because she couldn’t get a word in edgewise while he chatted on about where he had been and what he had done. As soon as they had turned the corner, and were continuing down the lane towards the Sunday school, Florence stopped and threw her arms around his neck, pressed her body against his, and kissed him greedily.

  ‘Steady on, love,’ gasped George eventually, and took a deep breath.

  Following their last brief and rushed loving encounter, Florence had missed two periods and was in a dilemma about whether to tell George. She realised that he had joined the army to earn money for them, and was fully aware that there were hard times ahead. She decided not to tell him because she didn’t want to scare him away with the thought of more responsibility; she decided to enjoy the time they had together.

  ‘Goodness me, I could strip you here and now,’ she breathed. Florence grabbed him, and holding him tight moaned, while she kissed him.

  ‘Come on lass,’ said George taking hold of her hand and set off into the bushes.

  At the farm, Henry informed Joseph of the standard of discipline at the camp. Joseph was intrigued and sat up straighter when told that the food was fine, then frowned with incomprehension when informed that they didn’t do much besides marching up and down a boggy field.

  As she laid the table, Mahala eyed Henry, and said, ‘You both have lost some weight.’

  ‘I feel alright, mum. Mind you, when we return, the medics will be waiting for us. The Sergeant said we all have to be checked over top to bottom before we are classed as proper soldiers,’ said Henry, and smiled innocently.

  ‘I wonder where that bugger is. I’ll go and finish preparing dinner now,’ moaned Mahala, and glanced through the window before continuing on into the kitchen. She didn’t know Joseph was finally smiling because of Henry’s new army lingo.

  After their quick moments of wild passion in the lane, George and Florence were lo
cked in an embrace under a canopy at the rear of the church.

  ‘Please stay a while longer?’ asked Florence, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was coming, and then hugged him tight.

  ‘Mum said I had to be back for five. Can you get out tomorrow?’ he asked, smiling and kissing her. ‘We’ll have to help dad first, so it’ll be about half past four before we finish.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can get up to the farm before that. If not, or if I’m not allowed, will you meet me at my home after tea?’ she asked, and then smirked because knew he didn’t like doing so. Before George could reply, she kissed him heatedly.

  Coming up for air, and after a sneaky glance over her shoulder, he replied, ‘I’ll do my best, love.’ Grinning, he slid his hand down to her backside and gave it a pinch, making her squeal.

  As they walked home, waving to each other until they couldn’t see one another anymore, both had that nagging feeling of not wanting to leave each other. George began to get frustrated; he really wanted to get married, but had nothing to offer. On the other hand, Florence also had nothing, but knew that if they were together, they would have everything.

  Chapter 7

  There were more tearful farewells by the side of the railway line on the day they returned to camp. Like many others, Henry chatted with his mum and dad, waiting patiently for Florence and George, who at the last minute came dashing towards them. There were hugs and kisses before the lads boarded the train, and they waved until their loved ones were out of sight once they were seated in the carriage. Again, George stared out over his parents’ land, recalling how healthy Florence was looking, but still not realising why. He wished he was not returning to camp, and then suddenly grimaced at the thought of the consequences if he didn’t.

  They were all bored by the tedious journey back to the camp. They were further dismayed as the train ran early because of changed and untested running times. Quietly seated in a compartment with only a few other army lads, dozing or staring out of the windows, Henry asked George, smiling sarcastically, ‘I wonder how many of our platoon won’t return?’

  ‘I think there will be a lot, brother. Let’s be fair, I’d rather be at home with Florence now. Given half the chance, I could just snuggle up in bed with her,’ sighed George, staring out of the window.

  ‘Oh aye, and if her dad caught you together like that, he’d kill both of you. That man has a temper like no other bloke on this earth,’ said Henry, and frowned at him.

  Eighty-five miles further south, Timothy chanced his arm, and after he kissed Penelope’s hand, he dared a quick kiss on her cheek as they said goodbye. He had enjoyed himself; he had eaten decent food and had good company in comfortable surroundings. He did think it strange that the Major’s wife did not bid them farewell, but he regretfully waved goodbye to Penelope, as their coach set off with a jolt. Timothy didn’t realise that the Major was feeling rather pleased that everything seemed to have gone according to his plan. Although he obviously had to keep it quiet, he knew when the battalion would move, and he always had in the back of his mind that when his personal problems changed for the better, the first thing he wanted to do was legally edit his wife out of his will. Eighteen months before he had automatically enrolled into the army, the Major had hired a private investigator to follow his wife. After a month, the investigator submitted a report about her activities, confirming that the Major’s suspicions were correct and she had taken a lover. Although this was unacceptable for the middle classes, it was not uncommon. The Major was the youngest of two brothers and two sisters, and had had a strict upbringing in his family’s engineering business. Not wanting to dirty his hands publicly, the Major took command of staff induction, and began to hire-and-fire.

  The plant produced railway lines as fast as they could, and the turnover of the workers was rapid because of the heavy work involved. Serious accidents were common and occasionally fatal. Because there was such high unemployment in the area, many men who were unable or unwilling to complete a hard day’s work quite often offered their women folk to the managers to secure employment.

  The Major had witnessed various types of infidelity among the workers in his family’s engineering business, and with the experience he had gained by being seven years his wife’s senior, her affairs had not shocked him. He had learned to assess character in his line of work, and had always believed that his wife had married him for status and money. At present, his measurement of character was focused on Timothy; so far, he ranked high, and was at the top of the list of potential husbands for his daughter.

  On the other hand, Timothy now regretted not going home, and had really missed seeing his parents. He tried to cheer himself by thinking about what he had achieved so far in the army—including obtaining an officer’s rank because he wanted to give orders, and not take them. A wry smile came to his face; he knew that the Major had earmarked him for promotion, but then he frowned as he knew he wasn’t ready for it. His self-confidence was growing, but he didn’t realise that his superiors had also judged him to have the initiative, courage and intellectual foresight to lead a unit of men. So far, the training Timothy had received was intense and repetitious, but his only doubt was whether he could give orders under pressure. He expected experience of battle conditions shortly, which would provide the answer, but could he also maintain discipline? Unfortunately, the only way to find out was when he arrived at the battle front.

  George, Henry, and a dozen more were the first to return to the training camp. Billy soon followed, and straight away knelt down to light the fire, grumbling, ‘Better do this first to keep the Sergeant off our backs.’

  Most of the soldiers felt subdued, and with nothing much to do, they soon retired to bed. At one o’clock on the morning, their door burst open with a sudden crash. The Sergeant was carrying an oil lamp; he stamped his feet together and yelled ‘Stand by your beds! Come on, at the double.’ Eyeing everyone as he strolled towards the stove, he swung around and noted two empty beds. Then he marched towards the door, shouted, ‘At ease,’ and slammed it shut after him.

  Taffy shivered, and then moaned, ‘Hellfire, he’s mad.’

  ‘He’s counting them that are late back,’ said Billy, crawling back into his bed. Cursing and chuntering away to himself, he shivered before spreading his clothing over his blankets, then curled up and pulled them over his head, making the others smile.

  ‘He’s counting how many aren’t coming back,’ said Henry, and pulled the blankets up to his chin, glancing at George. Noticing him staring at the ceiling as if studying its cracks, he decided not to bother him. Henry closed his eyes and thought, ‘I bet tomorrow we are all in for a real rough day from the Sergeant.’

  The next morning, at seven o’clock, everyone was dressed in uniform and standing to attention in the field. The Sergeant bellowed, ‘You may not be aware of this, but fourteen men have not arrived back from leave. Lord Kitchener said he wanted quarter of a million men from Yorkshire to fight in the King’s army, and we are part of that number.’

  Trying not to get noticed, Henry whispered, ‘He looks very angry.’

  Billy licked his lips, then breathed, ‘Stuff him.’

  ‘Attention! Right turn, and quick march,’ shouted the Sergeant, and watched them set off. Smartly following them to the end of the field, he ordered them to about turn. Marching next to George, he said, ‘Take your unit to the hut, and prepare for breakfast,’ then stopped, and observed the rest as they passed him.

  George shouted, ‘Unit fourteen… right wheel!’ and when they peeled off, carried on towards their hut.

  ‘Attention,’ shouted the Sergeant, and when they were settled, he shouted, ‘Unit twelve, quick march.’

  As soon as they entered their hut, Billy moaned ‘Thank God for that, I’m bursting for a shit!’ He glanced out of the door before quickly setting off around the back of their hut.

  George noticed a small brown envelope with his name and number written on it on his bed. He opened it and
then smiled as he read the bulletin from the Sergeant. It stated that the food wagon would arrive at nine fifteen, and that one hour later, the water wagon would arrive. They all had to shower in preparation for the medical team, who were arriving at 11 a.m. He shouted ‘Listen all!’ and when everyone was quiet, he issued their orders.

  That evening after dinner, all were relaxing, either sitting or lying on their beds. George sniffed and glanced around, his feeling of missing Florence heightened by their bleak environment. He groaned, ‘For Christ’s sake, Walter, will you go outside if you want to smoke that bloody stuff.’

  Walter had whittled himself a pipe out of a piece of rosewood he found at the rear of their hut. Luckily, he only lit it once a day, because he couldn’t afford proper tobacco. He always kept his eyes peeled, and would gleefully pick up anything that resembled tobacco off the floor. He saved it in a tin, and nearly always enjoyed a smoke after his dinner, so in silence, he would roll off his bed, saunter to the door and open it. Looking up at the sky this evening, he moaned ‘Hey up, it’s starting to rain,’ and lit his pipe.

  ‘Do you know something, mate, I’m bloody positive I‘ve failed my medical,’ grumbled Billy, staring grimly up at the ceiling.

  Henry turned to face him and asked, ‘How come, mate?’

  ‘Because when I was at school, my games teacher always said I had two flat feet,’ he replied, and smirked, as if turning it into a joke.

  Taffy sat up, and staring at him rather seriously, asked, ‘Did that make you exempt from anything else? You know, physical education, and keeping fit?’

  ‘It hasn’t stopped him farting,’ complained Bernard, and rolled over.

  Billy leaned to one side as if letting one go, didn’t, and thoughtfully replied, ‘Not really.’

  ‘Let’s be fair, you can’t run to save your life, can you?’ asked Walter, and they all laughed heartily.