Born to Trouble (33 page)

Whether it was the mood of the country’s women or the fact that several of his peers had lied about their age and gone away to fight, Pearl wasn’t sure, but at the beginning of February 1916 – a month before the Military Service Act that called for all single men between the ages of eighteen and forty-one to enlist came into force – James came home one day and said he’d enlisted. He was five months away from his eighteenth birthday. When Patrick, loath to be parted from his brother, followed suit the next day, Pearl felt her world had come to an end. Patrick was only sixteen, eleven months younger than James, and furthermore he didn’t look any older than the age he was, but with the call for recruits ever more urgent due to the ongoing slaughter on the battlefields, the war machine didn’t look too closely at things it preferred to ignore. Or that was how many mothers felt anyway. With the Navy already legally taking lads of fifteen, many a big burly Recruiting Sergeant had the idea that what was good enough for the Navy was good enough for the Army.

The next day, the boys left for training camp. Pearl didn’t know what she would have done without Nessie. It wasn’t so much the lads’ work in the shop, although the two girls she hired weren’t a patch on the boys, but the constant nagging worry once she knew they’d actually left for the front that had her beside herself. But with Nessie’s help she finally accepted what she couldn’t change. By May, when a brilliantly sunny day marked the start of the Government’s new ‘daylight saving time’, and clocks throughout Britain were put forward by an hour to make the most of work output in long, lighter evenings, Pearl was able to sleep properly again most nights. The boys wrote to her when they could, cheerful letters which made light of their circumstances. This changed after the beginning of July. The carnage which began as the Somme campaign opened resulted in 19,000 men dying in one day, mown down by German fire, and over double that number maimed, blinded or crippled. Old Generals – elderly and unimaginative professionals from the peacetime Army – refused to contemplate the problems of trench warfare, and the result was a massacre. The slaughter was prolonged for weeks, then for months. It only came to a halt in November when it foundered in mud and both sides dug in for the winter, the zest and idealism with which nearly three million Englishmen had marched forth to war gone for ever.

Pearl received fewer letters now and their tone was heavy even though both her brothers tried to keep the horrors from her. But she read the papers. She knew the troops were choked with mud and dulled by death and tested to the limit of their endurance. But as long as the letters kept on coming, they were alive. It was a telegram that she dreaded.

She and Nessie prepared for a quiet Christmas. Amazingly, with the price of a loaf at record levels of tenpence, and food costs soaring, Pearl found she was busier than ever. Or perhaps it wasn’t so surprising. For the first time in England’s history, over three million women were employed outside the home in war work and earning a wage of their own. Pearl’s policy of keeping her prices down and providing tasty, filling food meant weary wives and mothers, exhausted after a day in the armament factories or delivering sacks of coal or any of the other hundreds of jobs women were doing with no menfolk available, could bring their families to eat cheap good food without having to cook it themselves.

Pearl’s bank balance, already extremely healthy, rose sharply, and even when she decided to employ a third girl, her profits continued to increase.

As Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday Pearl had decided to close the shop for three days, re-opening on the Wednesday. It was the first time since she had started the business that she’d had three days off in a row and she knew she needed it. She was exhausted, in body, soul and spirit. And then, on the Friday before Christmas, she received a telegram. It was Nessie, all the colour drained from her face, who brought it through to the kitchen where Pearl was up to her eyes in dough. Pearl took it without a word, terror making her ears ring. ‘I said I was you,’ Nessie said shakily. ‘I didn’t want him to frighten you.’

Frighten her? Pearl stared at her friend. She felt sick, physically sick. Her fingers seemed to work independently of her mind because she watched them opening the telegram as though they belonged to someone else. For a moment everything was blurred and then her vision cleared. She read the printed words once and then twice before sitting down on one of the hardbacked chairs as her legs gave way. ‘It’s Seth,’ she said numbly. ‘My eldest brother. He’s – he’s hurt, dying. He’s named me as next-of-kin. I – I have to go to him.’

Hilda and Martha, who had been helping Pearl in the kitchen, stared at their employer in surprise. They hadn’t known she had any other family but James and Patrick. Nessie took control.Taking the telegram from Pearl’s frozen fingers she read it swiftly. ‘The hospital’s in Gateshead,’ she said briskly. ‘One of them grand houses that’s been converted since the war by the sound of it, Wynford Hall. Still, that’s a lot better than him being somewhere down South. We can have you there in no time, lass. You go an’ freshen yourself up and I’ll get a cab, all right? We can manage here.’

‘I – I have to go.’

‘’Course you have to go, he’s your brother.’ Seeing that Pearl was incapable for the moment, Nessie nodded at Hilda. ‘Run and get a cab, an’ you – ’ she looked at Martha – ‘make a strong cup of black coffee. Not tea, coffee. An’ bring it up when it’s ready.’ Taking Pearl’s arm she raised her to her feet and it was like that, Nessie leading her friend as though she was an old, old woman, that they left the two open-mouthed girls.

Pearl was ready when the cab came ten minutes later. Nessie had offered to go with her, but she had told her friend she needed her to stay and look after the shop. This was true, but the main reason was that she wanted to see Seth by herself. If he was dying – her heart stopped at the thought and then jerked into life so violently she put a hand to her chest – if he was dying she wanted to stay as long as he needed her, without worrying that she was putting anyone else out.

Seth, Seth . . . All the way to Gateshead his name reverberated in her head. He was a soldier. The telegram had said he’d been injured in battle. He had gone away to fight and he hadn’t told her, hadn’t come to see her . . .

Nessie was right, Wynford Hall was a grand old house set in extensive grounds on the outskirts of Gateshead. When the cab deposited Pearl at the foot of several semicircular steps which led to magnificent oak doors, the building in front of her seemed vast. Once inside, a reception area with a number of comfortable-looking armchairs dotted around small tables confronted her. She made her way over to a desk, behind which sat a young woman who smiled at her as she approached. ‘Can I help you?’

‘I had a telegram this morning.’ Pearl fetched it from her bag. ‘My brother’s here. I – I’ve come to see him.’

‘It’s not visiting hours.’ The woman’s words could have appeared officious but her tone was sympathetic. ‘Do you have an appointment?’

Pearl shook her head. ‘It says he wants to see me and he’s very ill. I thought . . .’

The woman nodded. ‘Sit down for a minute and I’ll see what I can do.’

Ten minutes later, a young nurse came and escorted her to Matron Gordon’s living quarters which Pearl suspected had once been a reception room. The Matron was sitting at a desk as Pearl entered, but rose and shook her hand before asking her to be seated. ‘You are here to see your brother, is that right? Corporal Croft?’

Pearl nodded. She had read that Seth was a Corporal, but only now did it really register. ‘I had a telegram.’

‘I know. I arranged for it to be sent.’ The Matron paused. ‘You understand your brother is very ill, Miss Croft? He was hit by shrapnel which caused considerable internal damage and necessitated three operations. However – ’ again the woman paused – ‘it’s more the fact that he has no interest in getting better that worries me. In cases like his, the mind really can make the difference between life and death. He seems very troubled.’ She flapped her hand. ‘Of course all the men are troubled, why wouldn’t they be after what they’ve been through? But somehow I feel it’s different with your brother. Anyway, he told me he wanted to see you and I promised I’d contact you and here you are.’

‘Yes, here I am.’

The Matron looked at her, a penetrating look. ‘I don’t know why your brother hasn’t asked for you before in the two months he has been with us, but I don’t have to know. All I would say to you is that he is something of a hero. I don’t know if you’re aware of this?’

‘No. No, I wasn’t.’

‘He was mentioned in dispatches, I understand. Got several of his men who had been injured to safety whilst under enemy fire. Went back four times. The fifth was when he himself was injured.’ The Matron paused. ‘Whatever the family situation is, you can be proud of him.’

Pearl stared back into the discerning eyes. ‘I’ve always been proud of him,’ she said simply.

For the first time since Pearl had entered the room, Matron Gordon smiled. ‘Good.’ She rose to her feet. ‘If you would like to follow me, I’ll take you to see him.’

The patients’ dormitories were all on the first floor, the Matron explained as she led Pearl into the hall and up the wide curving staircase. It wasn’t an ideal situation, not with some of the men having been blinded or crippled, but in these times they had to make the best of things, didn’t they?

Yes, Pearl replied, they did.

And of course these facilities doubled as a convalescent home once the patients were feeling better, and with the grounds as they were, this was a huge bonus. There were several acres for the men to walk or sit in, and a couple of the local carpenters had made over two dozen benches and tables free of charge for them. That was kind of them, wasn’t it?

Yes, Pearl replied numbly. It was very kind.

A nurse – bright, brisk, young – had told Seth ten minutes ago that he was going to have a visitor. His sister. She was talking with the Matron at the moment, but she’d be along shortly so they were just going to make him nice and fresh for when she came.

He had submitted to the girl’s ministrations without protest. He usually did. They had a job to do, after all, and they did it very well. It was thanks to Nurse Hardy and the rest of them that he was still here, he supposed, because if it had been left to him to eat, to physically put the food in his mouth, he wouldn’t have bothered. But they’d fed him initially and then bullied and cajoled him to eat while they stood over him. But he was growing weaker. He knew this and he welcomed it. But with the knowledge had come the need to see Pearl one last time and explain. Just to explain.

He was looking at the door when Pearl and the Matron walked into the ward, and in the moment before her eyes found him he saw what a fine-looking young woman she had matured into. Of course, she had always been bonny, even as a little bairn, but now there was an air of . . . what? he asked himself. Something which had been missing the last time he’d seen her eight years ago. And then it came to him. Self-possession. The way she held herself, the tilt to her head – that was it, self – possession.

And then she was in front of him, her great blue eyes glittering with unshed tears and her arms outstretched. She took his hands, which had been resting on the starched counterpane as she bent over him, her lips brushing his cheek as she whispered, ‘Seth, oh, Seth, I’ve prayed for this day, prayed that I’d see you again. Why didn’t you let me know you were here before?’

He didn’t answer this. ‘Thank you for coming.’ His words were low and husky.

‘You don’t have to thank me – of course I came! You’re my brother.’

Matron Gordon cleared her throat. Speaking to Seth, she said, ‘I’ve explained I don’t want you tired, Mr Croft, so your sister will only stay a short while on this occasion. Fifteen minutes, all right?’ Nodding at them both, she departed in a rustle of starched linen.

Pearl released his hands to sit down, but then she took the one nearer her and held it tightly between her own. ‘How are you?’ she said softly. ‘Are you in much pain?’

Again he didn’t answer this. ‘I – I wanted to talk to you.’ He carefully adjusted his position in the bed, but even then the knife-like pain speared one side of his abdomen. The other five occupants of the ward were asleep – or lying with their eyes closed, at least – it being the time for their afternoon nap. He knew he was lucky compared to them. Foster had lost both legs, and Davidson and Bainsby an arm and leg each. Shaw was so badly burned his wife had fainted when she’d first seen him, and as for Alridge . . . He didn’t like to think what Alridge’s life would be like if he lived. How could a man exist as a torso and little else?

‘Please don’t tire yourself, you heard what the Matron said.’

‘Pearl, I have to explain. I have to tell you about Fred and Walter.’ He swallowed. ‘They – they’re gone, both of them. We joined up together in the first week of the war and Fred bought it as soon as we were shipped to the front. Walt went the first day of the Somme. It was quick for both of them – and believe me, that’s something to be thankful for.’

She said nothing but clutched his hand tighter, her face white and strained.

‘They paid their dues to their country, Pearl.We all have. If there’s any justice in the hereafter, that’ll count for something. Whatever anyone says, they were good lads at bottom.’ He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to regulate his breathing so he could carry on. He had to say it all. There wasn’t much time. He gazed into her face, his voice coming in gasps when he muttered, ‘We knew what you’d done, the shop and all, and – and we were as pleased as Punch. Our baby sister running her own business – and not just running it, expanding and all sorts. An’ the lads, James and Patrick. You’ve done ’em proud, lass.’

‘Not me.’ Tears were rolling down Pearl’s face now, she couldn’t help it. ‘It’s all thanks to you and Fred and Walter, all of it. I was at my wit’s end that day you found us, and suddenly you turned everything round.’