The Caxley Chronicles (13 page)

It was at that moment that the door burst open and Leslie Howard and Winnie appeared, bright-eyed. Winnie ran to her mother, holding out her hands.

'Mummy, Leslie and I have got engaged! Look at my ring!'

Hilda's face grew rosy with mingled pleasure and wrath. What could be said in the face of such combined triumph and joy? Hilda, tears in her eyes, looked at Bender for assistance.

Something seemed to burst in Bender's head. The rumours flew back to buzz round him like stinging wasps. The heat, his private worries, the depressing newspaper, and his deep love for Winnie pressed upon him unbearably.

He flung the newspaper upon the floor and turned on Leslie.

'Engaged? That you're not, my boy, until I've had a word with you in private. Step across the hall, will you? No time like the present!'

He stormed past the young man, pale-faced, into the empty dining-room, leaving Winnie and her mother trembling.

Sep Howard did not hear of the unknown young Mr Parker's promotion until the day after Leslie's uncomfortable encounter with Bender. He did not hear, either, about that piece of news, from his son.

He was very perturbed on Bender's account. This was going to hurt him very much, and it might well mean that he would be very poorly off. Should he go once again, and offer any help that he could? It needed a certain amount of courage to face Bender at any time, but Sep remembered those words: 'You'd be the first I'd turn to, Sep,' and took heart.

He had heard the news from Jack Tenby himself, and so knew that there was no doubt about it. He decided to step across to the shop as it opened, and to do what he could.

A little nervous, as he always was when approaching Bender, yet glowing with the consciousness of doing the right thing, Sep entered North's shop. Bender glowered at him over his spectacles. His voice was gruffer than ever.

'Whatcher want?' he growled.

'A word with you, please,' answered Sep.

He followed Bender's broad back into the privacy of the shop parlour, and began, diffidently, without further ado.

'I've heard the news about the new manager, Bender. Jack Tenby mentioned it. It's very hard lines on you. Is there anything I can do?'

Bender wheeled to face him, face down, like a cornered bull,
his eyes blazing and his breathing noisy. Sep began to step back in horror.

'Clear out!' said Bender, dangerously calm. 'That ain't the only news you've heard, I'll lay! You heard about that son of your'n and his goings-on?'

He threw his head up suddenly, and began to roar.

'I don't want no mealy-mouthed help from you, Sep Howard, and I don't want to see hair or hide of you or your dam' kids ever again! If Leslie comes crawling round our Winnie once more, I'll give him the hiding of his life. Clear off, clear out! And dam' well mind your own business!'

He flung open the door, bundled Sep outside, and slammed the door shut again in the little man's face. Two or three interested assistants peered furtively from behind shelves. Sep pulled his jacket straight, and walked past them with as much dignity as he could muster.

His legs trembled as he crossed the market square, and his head buzzed with the echo of Bender's shouting. He must see Leslie at once and hear his side of this shocking story. Shaken though he was by the encounter, Sep felt more pity and concern for Bender than fear, and rejoiced in his own confidence.

His eldest boy, Jim, stood immersed in the newspaper at the bakery door. His hair was white with flour, his sleeves rolled up, and his white apron fluttered in the breeze from the river near by. The boy's face was excited. His eyes sparkled as he looked up from his reading.

'Well, dad, it looks as though we're ready for 'em! Les and I should be on our travels pretty soon according to this!'

He held out the paper so that Sep could read the headlines.

'Ultimatum to Germany. War at Midnight.'

Sep's face grew graver as he read.

'I never thought it would come to this,' he said in a low voice, as though speaking to himself. He looked soberly across the paper at his son.

'But it is the right thing to do,' he said slowly. 'No matter what the consequences are, a man must always do what he knows is right.'

He turned to enter, and his son turned to watch him go, a small erect figure, bearing himself with a dignity which the young man had never noticed before.

Across the square, Bender paced up and down the shop parlour, quivering with rage. The calendar caught his eye, and he stopped to tear off yesterday's date. What had he done, he asked himself, crumpling the paper in his hand? His world seemed in ruins. He had upset Hilda, and poor Winnie, and now he had thrown his old friend from him. What straits a man could find himself in! What depths of despair still lay ahead?

Automatically he bent to read the daily motto on the new date. It said: Aug. 4, 1914 'Be strong and of a good courage'.

It was the final straw. Bender sank upon the office stool, dropped his burning head to the cold leather top of the desk, and wept.

T
HE PEOPLE
of Caxley greeted the declaration of war against Germany with considerable jubilation and a certain measure of relief. Tension had been mounting steadily throughout the past week. Now that the die was cast, excitement seized them.

'That Kaiser's bin too big for 'is boots for time enough. 'E needs taking down a peg or two!' said Mrs Petty.

'Us'll daunt 'em!' declared a bewhiskered shepherd nearby.

'Ah! He've got the Empire to reckon with now!' agreed his old crony, spitting a jet of tobacco juice upon the market place cobbles, with evident satisfaction. The air rang with congratulatory greetings. August Bank Holiday may have been upset a little by the news of war, but spirits were high everywhere.

The papers were full of cartoons depicting Belgium as a helpless maiden in the grip of a strong, brutal, and lustful conqueror. Chivalry flowered again in the hearts of Caxley men. Justice must be done. The weak must be protected, and who better to do it than the British, with all the might of a glorious Empire to support them? There was no possibility of failure. It was simply a question of rallying to a good cause, throwing down a despot, succouring the victims, and then returning to normal life, with the glow of work well done, and a reputation enhanced with valour.

If war had to be, then it was inspiring to be so resolutely on the right side. There was no doubt about this being a righteous cause. It was the free man's blow against slavery. It was even more exhilarating, at this time, for the common man to realize how wide-flung and mighty were the bonds of Empire. There was a sudden resurgence of pride in the colonies overseas. For some years now the word 'imperialism' had seemed tarnished. Kipling's jingoistic exhortations were out of fashion. But the older people in Caxley, including Sep and Bender, remembered the show of might at Queen Victoria's Golden and Diamond Jubilees in 1887 and 1897, and remembered it now, with fierce pride, and considerable comfort.

'You see,' Bender told Hilda, 'they'll come flocking from all over the world—black, brown, and every other colour! Wherever they salute the old Union Jack! The Kaiser hasn't a hope! It'll all be over by Christmas!'

It was the phrase which was heard on all sides: 'Over by Christmas!' As the troop trains poured through Caxley station on their way to the coast, the men shouted it jubilantly to the waving mothers and wives on the platform. Caxley had never seen such a movement of men before. This was the first European war in which England had taken part for generations, and the rumble of road and rail transport, as Haldane's Expeditionary Force moved rapidly towards France, was an inspiring sound. Between August 7th and 17th, in a period of blazing sunshine, it was said that over a hundred thousand men crossed the Channel. To the people of Caxley it seemed that most of them made their way southward through their reverberating market square.

A recruiting centre had been opened at the Town Hall and
the queues waiting outside added to the noise and excitement. From all the surrounding villages and hamlets, from tumble-down cottages hidden a mile or more down leafy cart tracks, the young men found their way to the market square. They came on foot, on bicycles, on horseback and in carts, farm waggons, and motor-cars. One of the most splendid turn-outs came from Fairacre and Beech Green. Two coal-black cart horses, gleaming like jet, drew a great blue-painted waggon with red wheels into the market place. Harold Miller held the reins. His whip was decorated with red, white and blue ribbons, and the brass work on the vehicle and the horses' harness shone like gold.

About a score of young men grinned and waved cheerfully as they clattered into the market square. Jesse Miller sat beside his brother, and among the sun-tanned men aboard could be seen the bright auburn head of Arnold Fletcher, fiancé of Dolly Clare of Fairacre. Bertie North, who had already added his name to the lengthy list, waved enthusiastically to his fellow-comrades from the doorway of his father's shop.

He had never known such deep and satisfying excitement before. Ever since he and the Howard boys had volunteered, life had assumed a purpose and meaning so far unknown to him. It was as though he had been asleep, waiting unconsciously for a call to action. Now it had come, vibrant and compelling, and Bertie, in company with thousands of other young men, responded eagerly.

Their womenfolk were not so ardent. Hilda was openly tearful. She had never made a secret of her great love for Bertie. He held a special place in her heart, and the thought of her eldest child being maimed or killed was insupportable.
Winnie, though outwardly calm, was doubly anguished, for Leslie was involved, as well as Bertie.

Edna Howard, with two sons enlisted and Kathy worrying to leave home to nurse or to drive an ambulance, had her share of cares, but there was a child-like quality about her which rejoiced in the general excitement and the flags and uniforms, military bands and crowds, which enlivened Caxley at this time. It was Sep who went about his business white-faced and silent, suffering not only for his sons, but also because of his years, which denied him military action.

He grieved too for the rift which had parted him and Bender. The rebuff which he had received hurt him sorely. He was too sensitive to approach Bender again, and a quiet 'Good morning' had been greeted with a grunt and a glare from the ironmonger which froze poor Sep in his tracks. As things were, with everything in turmoil, it seemed best to leave matters alone and hope that time would bring them both some comfort.

The Corn Exchange had been turned into a medical centre, and the young men went straight there from the Town Hall. The Howard boys and Bertie were passed fit and swore to serve His Majesty the King, his heirs and successors, and the generals and the officers set over them, kissed the Bible solemnly, and looked with awed delight at the new shilling and the strip of paper bearing their army number, which each received.

'Do we get our uniform yet?' asked Jim hopefully.

'Old 'ard,' replied the sergeant, in charge of affairs. 'You ain't the only pebbles on the beach. You clear orf back to your jobs till you're wanted. You'll hear soon enough, mark my words. Now 'op it!'

Thus began the hardest part of this new adventure. Carrying on with an everyday job was galling in the extreme to these young men. But at least, they told each other, they were in. Some poor devils like Jesse Miller, for instance, had been found medically unfit.

Jesse was heart-broken.

'Flat feet and varicose veins, they said,' Jesse cried in disgust. 'I told 'em I could walk ten miles a day behind the plough without noticing it, but they'd have none of it. Makes me look a proper fool! But I'm not leaving it there. I'll try elsewhere, that I will! I'll get in by hook or by crook! If Harry goes, I go!'

He received a great deal of sympathy, as did other unfortunate volunteers who had been unsuccessful. It was Kathy who shocked everyone by stating a startling truth at this time.

'You'd think they'd be glad really. After all, I suppose lots of the others will be killed or wounded. I think
they're
the lucky ones.'

Her hearers looked at her aghast. What treason was this? Her brothers, and Bertie too, rounded on her abruptly. Had she no proper pride? Did patriotism mean nothing? Of course it was a deprivation for men like poor old Jesse Miller to be denied the glory of battle. They were amazed that she should think otherwise.

Kathy shrugged her pretty shoulders and tossed her dark head.

'It seems all topsy-turvy to me,' she replied nonchalantly. And, later, amidst the chaotic horror of a French battlefield, Bertie was to remember her words.

***

The sun blazed day after day throughout that golden August. The corn fields ripened early and there would be a bumper harvest. The lanes round Caxley were white with dust. The grass verges and thick hedges were powdered with the chalk raised by the unaccustomed volume of army traffic making its way southward.

It seemed unbelievable that within less than a hundred miles of Caxley, across a narrow ribbon of water, men were blasting each other to death.