Until We Meet Again Page 8

  ‘Sorry, Greg,’ she said. ‘Amy kiss it better.’ She planted a noisy kiss on his cheek and then, as his eyes filled up with tears, she patted him on the shoulder. ‘Come on now, Greg,’ she added. ‘Big boys don’t cry.’

  ‘That’s right, Amy,’ said Jessie, laughing as she went over to her son. ‘That’s what I say to him. Let’s have a look what’s happened, shall we?’ There was a little red mark on the side of his face. Jessie stroked it then gave him a kiss. ‘There now; that’s better, isn’t it?’

  Gregory gave a weak smile, but he was soon playing happily again with his friend, until it was time for them to go home ‘to get Daddy’s tea’.

  Jessie and her husband, Arthur, also lived in the South Bay area, not too far away, on Valley Road. Arthur was a partner with his father and uncle in the long-established firm of solicitors, Newsome, Newsome and Pickering, on Falsgrave Road, a little way out of the town centre.

  Jessie sympathised with her husband’s disappointment at being rejected for army service, but in her heart of hearts she was oh so glad that he didn’t have to go. Freddie, Samuel, Bertram, Joe Black, and several friends of hers and Arthur’s at the church and cycling club had already gone or were awaiting their call-up. When would it all end? she wondered. And at what cost? But she feared that the end could be a long way off, and she dreaded to imagine the cost of it all, not in money, but in lost lives, lost hopes and aspirations.

  Jessie was aware that she, as a woman, could do little to help in the war effort, except to knit socks for soldiers, which they were all being encouraged to do. Had she been single she could have done much more. Already men who were serving at the Front were being replaced by women in jobs that would never have been considered suitable before. Women were driving trams, buses and ambulances; joining the newly formed Land Army; working in munitions factories; and more young women than ever were volunteering for nursing. But Jessie, like thousands more, was a wife and mother and she knew that, for the time being at least, her job was in the home, caring for her little family and endeavouring to cheer up her frustrated husband.

  Hetty Lucas, Jessie’s stepsister, was finding herself in a similar situation. Her husband, Bertram, was completing his training not far from York, in the same camp as Freddie Nicholls. Whilst Samuel Barraclough – who was the father of five-year-old Angela – had joined the Durham Light Infantry and was training somewhere in the far north of England. Already he had been selected as a potential officer, the difference being that he had been educated at a private school and had then gone on to university. Unlike her husband, and Freddie, too, who were Grammar School boys, and had, therefore, not entered such an elitist regiment as had Samuel.

  He had called round to see them a few weeks previously to tell them that he had joined the army. He was not by any means a regular visitor at the Lucas household, but he had made it clear right at the start, when Angela was born, that he would like to maintain some contact with the child who was – although unknown to many – his real daughter.

  Bertram was an easy-going sort of fellow who believed in the doctrine of ‘live and let live’. It could be said that Samuel had let Hetty down by not marrying her; but the truth was that by the time Hetty had discovered she was pregnant, she had also realised that their relationship was at an end. She had had no wish to marry Samuel, and so his shock at her revelation was of little consequence. By that time Bertram had expressed his desire to marry her and bring up the child as his own. And Hetty had known that she was already falling in love with the young photographer, and that this time it was a love based on true friendship and affection.

  She had been pleasantly surprised, however, at how well Samuel had behaved. He had never forced his attentions on the little girl, taking his place in her affections as ‘Uncle Sam’; the only one, in fact, who was ever allowed to call him Sam instead of the more correct Samuel, which he preferred. He had agreed that it was only right that Angela should be legally adopted by Bertram, but had insisted that he must be allowed to contribute each month to the child’s upkeep. Hetty and Bertram had agreed, although they were financially quite secure. Hetty knew, deep down, that although Samuel was behaving quite admirably, there was a part of him that was relieved to have escaped so lightly.

  She had received the news that Samuel had enlisted with a certain surprise. She would have thought, at one time, that he would be more concerned with self-preservation. But there had been a marked change in him; and men of all classes and personalities were being urged to answer the call to serve their King and Country. She was pleased, though, that Bertram was able to say that he, too, was going.

  ‘Same here,’ he grinned when Samuel had told them his news. ‘Actually, I signed on yesterday; 16th battalion of the West Yorks, same as Freddie Nicholls. I should be joining him soon, I hope, near Malton.’

  ‘And I’m off to the far north, up on the Durham moors,’ said Samuel. ‘Durham Light Infantry. I’m going in a couple of days. I’ve just popped over to say goodbye to everyone. I’m staying at Mother’s place tonight.’

  Yes, your mother’s place…and my father’s too, thought Hetty, but she did not comment. Samuel very rarely made any mention of William Moon. It could be said that they tolerated one another, but there was little love lost there. ‘What about your post at the university?’ she asked. ‘It will be there for you to go back to, will it?’ He was a lecturer in Geology at Leeds University.

  ‘Oh yes; that’s the understanding. It has been filled already, of course.’ He grinned. ‘There are any amount of old codgers – retired professors – crawling out of the woodwork now. There shouldn’t be any shortage of tutors to carry on the work… What about your photographic business, Bertram?’ he enquired.

  ‘I’m afraid we shall have to close down for the time being,’ answered Bertram, sounding somewhat regretful. ‘It’s a one-man business, you see. Well, Hetty helps me from time to time, don’t you, darling?’ He smiled affectionately at his wife. ‘When we have a wedding she arranges the groups for me; she knows just what is required – his family and her family and all that. And she’s a marvel when I’m taking children’s portraits. She knows exactly what to do to make them smile and feel at ease.’

  ‘But I really don’t know one end of a camera from the other,’ laughed Hetty. ‘I don’t understand all the technical stuff, but I’m all right with one of those box cameras. You just press a button and Bob’s your uncle; you’ve got a picture.’

  ‘That’s what we take with us on holiday and on day trips,’ said Bertram. ‘I must admit they’re pretty good… Yes, I shall have to shut the shop and the studio until further notice… And who can tell how long that will be?’ The two men nodded, exchanging significant glances, a moment in which they were truly in accord.

  ‘Angela and I shall stay here, of course,’ said Hetty. ‘We had been thinking of moving into a house and expanding the business here. Bertram needs more space for a more efficient darkroom and a bigger stockroom, but then…well…all this happened, so we’ll have to wait a while. I’m helping my father in the office rather more now. Angie started school last September so I have a little more free time.’

  Samuel nodded and smiled at Angela. ‘Yes, you are growing up fast, aren’t you, Angela? I do believe you must be at least three inches taller than the last time I saw you. And do you like your school?’

  ‘Yes, I love it,’ replied Angela. ‘It’s the same school that Aunty Maddy and Uncle Patrick went to, and Grandad as well. That must have been simply ages ago.’

  Samuel laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose it must have been. She’s at the Friarage School then?’ he enquired of Hetty.

  ‘That’s right. It’s a good school from all accounts and she’s doing very well there. She’s happy, and that’s the main thing.’ Hetty spoke in a decisive voice. ‘Anyway, if it was good enough for the rest of the Moon family then I reckon it’s good enough for our Angie.’ If Samuel had any ideas about Angela going to a private school then she intended to put him s
traight. She and Bertram had no such pretensions. She wanted to make that quite clear to him, but she hoped she hadn’t sounded too belligerent.

  Samuel smiled, however. ‘Quite so. It’s handy too, isn’t it? Only about ten minutes’ walk away?’

  ‘This is my reading book, Uncle Sam,’ said Angela, picking up a book from the sideboard top. ‘Miss Johnson – that’s my teacher – lets us bring them home to practice. I’m up to page twenty. Would you like to hear me read?’

  ‘Yes, I would, Angela, very much,’ replied Samuel.

  She perched on the arm of his easy chair and read very fluently – as fluently as was possible that is, in the stilted language of the primer – about the everyday life on a farm; the cow that said ‘Moo’, the dog that said ‘Bow-wow’, and, of course, the cat that sat on the mat.

  ‘That’s very good,’ he said, clearly impressed. ‘I daresay you’re the top of the class, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m in the top reading group,’ said the little girl. ‘And I’m good at sums; adding up and taking away, and I know my three times table off by heart, don’t I, Mummy?’

  ‘Yes, you’re doing very nicely, Angie,’ said her mother. ‘Put your book away now, though. Put it in your school bag, then it’ll be ready for the morning. It’s nearly your bedtime anyway.’ Hetty knew that her daughter was developing into a clever child and should be praised for her achievements, but she didn’t want her to become precocious. She feared lest she might have inherited a bumptious trait from her real father.

  Samuel seemed to take Hetty’s remark as a signal that he should be on his way. ‘I may not see you again before I go overseas,’ he said. ‘I gather one doesn’t get much prior notice. Anyway, the best of luck, old pal.’ He shook hands firmly with Bertram, and the look they exchanged conveyed what they both knew; that they would need a great deal more than luck to get them through the conflict ahead of them.

  He gave Hetty a chaste little kiss on the cheek, and the same with Angela. Hetty was glad that her daughter did not go overboard with affection whenever she saw her ‘Uncle Sam’. But she was not a shy child and had offered to read for him because, quite frankly, she liked showing off a bit. Hetty was relieved, that evening, when Samuel had gone, although the meeting had passed off quite smoothly.

  A few weeks later, both men, in different camps, were waiting for the call to go overseas. The news from the battle front was grim. The British had launched an offensive at Ypres and Loos, but very little ground was gained, and at an enormous cost in lives. And at the same time news was filtering back home that the Germans were retaliating with a deadly weapon; tear gas was being used in the trenches.

  The war at sea had, at first, appeared to be more in Britain’s favour. The news was eagerly followed by many folk in Scarborough, families of fishermen whose sons had joined the Navy. The Royal Navy had managed to sink the Blucher, Germany’s most powerful battle cruiser, bringing to an end the raids on the east coast ports, which had caused such havoc. Then came the announcement that the Germans had launched a submarine blockade of Britain’s coast, targeting merchant vessels. The first ships had been sunk in February and from then on the number of victims had increased steadily, culminating in May, in the sinking of the Lusitania off the Irish coast. Feelings ran high as many civilians had lost their lives.

  Inevitably, this led to shortages of food throughout the land. Folks were tightening their belts, realising that there would be little money left for treats or luxuries with the menfok serving overseas.

  Luxuries such as having one’s photograph taken, mused Hetty. The shop and studio were closed, with a notice in the window, ‘Closed for the duration, due to circumstances beyond our control.’ Indeed, trade had dropped off considerably in the early months of 1915, even before Bertram had answered his country’s call to arms.

  And even before that, the first few anxious weeks of the war had led to hoarding and panic-buying, resulting in big price rises. Sugar, for instance, had doubled in price and was now being regarded as a luxury rather than a necessity. Queues were becoming a fact of life and people were being urged to eat more potatoes and to dig over their flowerbeds and lawns to grow their own vegetables.

  Maddy and Hetty missed their husbands more than they dared to admit, but they found solace in one another’s company. And although they had half expected it, they were dismayed by the news, in May, that both Tommy and Dominic had decided to join the army.

  Chapter Eight

  The two young men were in the second year of their sixth form schooling at King William’s Academy, fondly known as King Billy’s.

  Tommy’s main subject was Mathematics. He intended to go on to university to take a degree which would qualify him to become a chartered accountant, whereas Dominic’s interest lay more with the Arts. His ambition was to become a writer of memorable fiction, like Thomas Hardy, whose works he greatly admired; Dominic was something of a dreamer. He knew, though, that once he had his English degree he would, perhaps inevitably, become a lecturer or a teacher of English Literature whilst working on his masterpiece.

  But all such thoughts were put to one side as early summer followed the spring, and it became increasingly obvious that there would be no early return to peace. Several of the lads – only a year or so older than Tommy and Dominic – who should have gone on to university the previous September had, instead, joined the army. They had served in the cadet corps and could not wait to join the fray. Then, at the beginning of May, news reached the school, announced by the headmaster at the morning assembly, that the academy had suffered its first casualty of the war. Archie Pendleton, who had been head boy the previous year, had been killed at Ypres.

  ‘Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, lest we forget – lest we forget…’ they sang lustily, although there were tears in many an eye and lumps in many a throat.

  Tommy and Dominic did not need to say very much to one another. They each knew what was in the other’s mind. They discussed it as they were walking home from school a couple of days after they had heard the tragic news about Archie – ‘a great guy, one of the best’ – who had been the captain of the cadet corps.

  ‘We don’t have any choice, do we?’ said Tommy.

  ‘No, the way I see it, we have no choice at all,’ agreed Dominic. ‘We have to go and do our bit.’

  ‘Precisely, or else there isn’t much point in being in the ATC, is there? Some people think of it as just playing at soldiers, and we have to prove that it isn’t.’ A couple of the older lads in the corps who had turned eighteen had already left school and joined up. And several of the younger ones, aged sixteen or seventeen, declared that they couldn’t wait until they, too, were old enough to enlist, even admitting that they hoped the war would continue long enough for them to do so; a statement that might, on the other hand, be bravado.

  ‘I’m sure their parents would not agree,’ Tommy remarked to his friend. ‘Which reminds me… When do you think we should tell our parents? Shall we go and do the deed and tell them afterwards, then it will be a matter of fait accompli? Or…’

  ‘Or shall we tell them first?’ Dominic completed the question, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘Yes, that’s a tricky one. And I have to break the news to Tilly as well, although I think she might well be expecting it.’

  ‘Yes, it’s getting quite serious between you two, isn’t it?’ said Tommy with a knowing grin at his pal. ‘She doesn’t say much, my sister, but I can read the signs. I would say she’s fallen for you good and proper, old chum. Though I can’t imagine why!’

  ‘Can’t you? I can!’ quipped Dominic, never the most modest of young men. ‘Dominic Fraser’s quite a catch, I’ll have you know!’ He smiled confidently. ‘Joking apart though… Yes, I’m quite nuts about your sister. She’s a great girl… Back to what we were talking about though – telling our parents. I think it might be as well to tell them of our intentions, then it’s all open and above board.’

  ‘So long as we don’t let them talk us out
of it,’ said Tommy.

  ‘Oh, there’s no question of that,’ said Dominic. ‘We’ll have to stand firm.’

  Tommy spoke to his mother and Uncle Will that very teatime. He thought of his mother’s husband as more of a father than he had ever considered Edward Barraclough to be. His sister, Tilly, was there too, and she listened in silence, knowing all too well, Tommy guessed, that Dominic would have the same intention.

  ‘You are still at school, Tommy,’ said his mother, as he had known she would, even if it was only a token protest. ‘You are in the middle of your studies for university. Surely young men like you are not expected to volunteer…are they? And will they allow you to leave school?’

  ‘They have no choice, Mother,’ replied Tommy. ‘Some of the lads have already gone. Anyway, I know it’s what I have to do. University will still be there…when this is all over.’ He did not say ‘when I come back’, although he knew the same thought – not when, but if – must be in all their minds, but would remain unspoken.

  William nodded soberly. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised, Tommy, and neither is your mother, not really. And we both admire you for your courage… don’t we, Faith, my dear?’

  ‘Yes, of course we do,’ replied Faith, trying hard not to let the threatening tears begin to fall.

  ‘And we won’t stand in your way, either, Tommy lad. That’s right…isn’t it, Faith?’

  Faith nodded. ‘Yes; we are very proud of you, son.’

  Tilly, who had not spoken a word, pushed back her chair, stood up and fled out of the room. Faith glanced sympathetically at her retreating figure, then in a quiet voice she asked, ‘Dominic as well, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ replied Tommy. ‘Oh dear! Perhaps I should have waited until the two of you were on your own. I wasn’t sure what to do.’

  ‘It might have been as well, Tommy,’ said William. ‘But never mind. You couldn’t have kept it from her for long, and now she’ll be prepared when Dominic tells her.’