Regret to Inform You... (48 page)

When Arthur left the West Lane cottage a short while later, he wondered if Jack would ever really think of him as his father.

As she retired to bed, Olivia's heart went out to her son, but she was relieved that Jack now knew the long-kept secret; she would never regret his conception at a time when two injured people's compassion became a momentary loving union. She briefly thought of the one other person who knew the secret, but knew it would be safe.

Jack was confused as to what he should think; he knew he must accept what he had just been told, but he wondered if he could ever see the Rusfield vicar in his new role.

The soldiers continued to come home; there was talk of little else in the village. Relationships disrupted by their years away took time to rebuild; some were never the same, but in the passing months so many villagers gave support that much healing took place. Sebastian and Isabella de Maine opened their home each Friday morning for men returning from the
war
to call in, talk with one another and enjoy a cup of tea together. The walk to the manor was pleasant and sharing time, often with friends they had not seen for years, was good; some could not bring themselves to go. The memorial fund continued to grow, as did discussions about the best way to commemorate the Rusfield men who had died. More immediately, the memorial service filled many minds. Arthur, Reggie Gregg and those on both committees were determined to make it a village service where people from church and chapel would join easily with those who had no allegiance to either. Sunday, 27 April was chosen, the Sunday after Easter, commemorating the resurrection, an occasion thought by both Arthur and Reggie Gregg to be appropriate; to those who had no place for church anniversaries, it was the Sunday following St George's Day.

St Mary's overflowed with villagers; whichever way people looked they saw a soldier, now with his family. There was a single red flower on a table near the altar for each man who had given his life, arranged by the loving hands of Eliza Carey and Liz Smith who had both lost sons. Reggie Gregg read out the names of the thirty-nine men; Frederick Richards from St Mary's and Bertram Jackson from the chapel read the lessons. Returning from Devon, Peter Meadows, who had known virtually every one of the men during his time as headmaster, spoke words that were heartbreaking, not least to himself. Liz Smith still had tears of pride in her eyes for words that he had said to her before the service, when they both talked of her only son, Fred Smith. ‘Liz, I remember Fred in the school football team, but I also remember how we needed matching shirts for that all-conquering team. We collected together enough shirts, but they were of different colours. It was you who dyed them our chosen colour, green, and ironed them.'

Arthur began his sermon: ‘This tragic episode in the history of our village started with some of our young men walking in to Steepleton to join the Territorial Army. To them
and
all the others who later joined our armed forces we offer our praise. To those who never returned we give our gratitude; they will always be remembered in Rusfield. To those of you whose husbands, sons, brothers or friends never returned we give our love.'

Everyone went away with their own thoughts and memories. As Jack Atkins and Patricia Bagshott walked away hand in hand, with Olivia and the three other members of Patricia's family close behind, Jack was determined to tell his fiancée of his new-found father. He had wrestled hard with the recently discovered truth, endlessly talking it over with his mother, now finding that his own feelings towards Patricia helped him to understand a little more of the evening in the family cottage many years earlier.

E
PILOGUE

1919 and Beyond

On the first day of September, Mrs Richards stood watching the children line up before going into Rusfield School. ‘It's nice to see you, Miss,' smiled Margaret Robinson on the teacher's first day at her school.

‘You should say “Mrs Richards”, Marjorie,' corrected her eleven-year-old sister, Martha. ‘Grace is married now.' Grace had excitedly looked forward to having her new class since deciding to move from Wensfield School. The change had not been without tears as she had loved her first teaching position, but being in her own village was a new adventure.

Arthur Windle would be a little later arriving at the school for the assembly to which he had been invited on this first day of term; forty-five minutes being allowed to register and settle in the new children. Meanwhile, Arthur walked into the rear garden of the vicarage which, with a little help from David Johnson, he managed to maintain. He cut a cream rose and took it across to the churchyard where he placed it on Eleanor's grave, near to the door into St Mary's; 28 August 1917, two years since she had died. He missed her as much as ever, but knew she was close by him. Some confetti from the previous Saturday had blown across her grave and Arthur smiled. Eleanor would have loved all the weddings that had
taken
place at St Mary's in the past few months, the scene for so much joy and hope. Dear Ruby Johnson, distraught by the deaths of Fred Smith and her loving brother Willy, but now much loved by Peter Woods, still postman in the village: no longer the herald of war deaths. Married two days earlier, Arthur was sure their future was bright.

And all the other weddings earlier in the year: Doris Groves and Albert Jones had been the first and Arthur had been astonished at the way Albert's mental wounds had been lessened by the caring Doris. Albert and Arthur had spent much time together and the younger man had told Arthur how he had travelled to the small village in Yorkshire and called on Nellie Marsden. His visit had revealed that her husband, Mike, had been killed, the letter from his sergeant stating that he
died instantly in an explosion.
She had been grateful that Albert told her of her husband's bravery; Albert relieved that no accusation of cowardice had ever been suggested in official letters. Nellie had told Albert that her parents were now living with her and together they were coping well with the large family.

Two weeks earlier, Doris, proudly cradled seven-week-old James, whilst Albert told Arthur they were emigrating to New Zealand in a year's time when their son would be old enough for the long journey. Albert had corresponded much with Robert Grayson and his wife. They admitted to struggling on their farm near Little River and how they could certainly offer plenty of work to Albert along with a cottage for his family. Sadly, his son Martin had been killed two months before the end of the war. In one of the letters home, Martin had told his parents about the time he spent with a young Englishman in a shell-hole and how they had talked about the farm.

Weddings of young men returning from the war had been expected, but the marriage of Violet Rushton and Robert Berry was a surprise, one that delighted the many who knew them. They now lived above Violet's shop, the storeroom where the
soldiers'
parcels had been prepared having been pleasantly converted into a well-appointed additional room. Violet had happily agreed to the transfer of her husband's treasured Union Jack from Sandy Lane to their garden overlooking the village green.

On a beautiful mid-July day, Abraham Richards and Grace Reynolds had married. As he now stood alone in the churchyard, Arthur pictured the large numbers that had cheered as the couple stepped out of the church. The village youngsters, who had followed every race that their hero won, had joined the many guests for the joyous occasion. The wedding feast had been in Jack Mansfield's barn, beautifully decorated by their many friends. As Grace had told Doris, ‘Abraham and I want it to be there because that's where we fell in love at that Easter-time party seven years ago.' She added, with her engaging smile: ‘Although, I suppose we should really have held it in the infants' classroom as I liked Abraham when I saw him there on my first day at school!' Abraham was now assistant manager at Spinney Farm where one of the attractive cottages was enjoyed by the young couple as their first home.

To Arthur, the most wonderful of all weddings had taken place not in Rusfield, but at St Peter's in Ealing. Jack had married Patricia with both Arthur and Olivia recognised as parents of the groom. Arthur would forever be indebted to Jack for his courage in speaking to the congregation at St Mary's, following his own confession. After Arthur had moved down from the pulpit to speak to the many present, Jack, grasping his mother's hand, had walked forward and the three had joined hands together. Jack had spoken of his pride in his parents, Olivia and Arthur. Arthur thought back to how he had expected the admission to be greeted with anger and much criticism, but had found only surprise and love. When they saw each other now, Olivia and Arthur no longer had to hide behind the disguise of priest and parishioner; they were
dear
friends and the proud parents of a splendid son. Arthur had seen Patricia earlier in the morning walking from the cottage vacated by Robert Berry; now the home for the young couple. Jack had recently taken over as manager of the bakery in Steepleton and hoped to own the flourishing business one day.

Before moving off to the school, Arthur sat for a few minutes in the quietness of St Mary's. He was still uncertain of his own future. Some of the church's utterances still found no favour with him, but he felt much more certain of a God whose presence was never far away. He now shared Eleanor's love for the Sermon on the Mount and understood Christ's love shown in his suffering on the cross. He rejoiced in a firmer foundation for his own faith.

After the knowledge of him being Jack's father had not lessened the villagers' regard for him, he realised how much he wanted to stay in the village. He had again met with the dean who had indicated his support and promised to encourage the new bishop to reconsider the intended reprimand and Arthur's removal from Rusfield. A final decision was awaited. Before leaving Eleanor's grave, Arthur looked across the age-old churchyard and noticed a buzzard sitting in its favoured tree by the village green.

Now, as he sat on the slightly raised podium and looked out at the children enthusiastically singing their morning hymn, he felt the village to be in good hands. He was sure any decline in the school numbers over the next year or so, would soon be put right.

The following Saturday, Abraham, Jack and Albert met at The George, the first time for many weeks. Turning to his lifelong friend, Jack put down his glass and asked: ‘Well Racer, another championship race won last month, so what about the Olympics next year? Antwerp isn't it?'

Abraham with a slight smile replied: ‘Well, I hope so, I
managed
to equal the best time I did before the war, but I need to do better than that. I can only hope to be there.'

‘Oh, you'll be there,' responded Boney. ‘All Rusfield will be cheering you on, including Fred, Willy and Jammy.'

‘Well, I can hardly let them down.'

A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Whilst any errors rest with the author, he particularly acknowledges the help of:

Jennie, my wife, who supported me from the outset

Jane Bennett, my daughter, whose help in every aspect of the book was a major driving force.

Naomi, Alice and Hannah of Troubador Publishing Ltd.

Charlotte Fausset, whose drawing of the village brings Rusfield further alive.

John Temperton of United Kingdom Athletics

British Postal Museum & Archive

Royal Gunpowder Mills, Waltham Abbey

Author contact:
[email protected]