For The Sake of Her Family (29 page)

‘Give us a light, mate.’ The young lad next to him was trembling as they neared the shores of Calais. He seemed so young, Will wondered if he’d given the recruitment officer
his true age. They’d heard the guns as they stood on the docks at Dover and now, as they were nearing French soil, they sounded even louder. The young lad’s hand shook as he held the
match to Will’s cigarette. He flinched as an extra-loud shell exploded somewhere on the Belgian border.

‘You’re going to have to get used to that, mate. We’ll be right under them in twenty-four hours.’ Will winked at the young lad.

‘I know. I just can’t do with the noise. I’ve never heard anything so loud. I didn’t think it’d be like this.’ His face was strained and frightened.

‘What’s your name, and where you from? I’m Will, come from a little town called Dent in Yorkshire, which seems a million miles away now.’ Will held his hand out.

‘I’m Billy, from Buxton in Derbyshire. Me mam and dad farm, but I’d had enough, wanted to see the world.’ He smiled and shook Will’s hand.

‘Well, Billy, you stick next to me and we’ll get through it together. We’ll show these bastards not to take us farm lads on. We’ll make your mum and dad proud of
you.’

Will looked at young Billy, still wet behind the ears, yet desperate to prove himself. How could he have envisaged what he was going to be up against? The way the lad was quivering every time a
shell went off, he’d be a sitting duck on the front line. Will decided he’d make it his business to keep an eye on the young lad, keep him alive as long as possible. For the sake of
Billy’s mam and dad, who must be going out of their minds with worry, he’d be the lad’s guardian angel without letting him know it.

His thoughts returned to his own life and the way he’d walked away from his responsibilities. By now things should have calmed down. Alice would have cursed him, and Nancy would be doing
her usual wailing, but she’d soon have a baby to keep her busy. His thoughts were interrupted as the sergeant major gave orders to get ready to disembark. The clank of rifles, ammunition and
backpacks being gathered up by hundreds of intrepid soldiers echoed around the ship. The atmosphere was so laden with fear, you could almost taste it and smell it as the aged troop ship docked.

‘Stick with me, lad – I’ll look after you. Keep your head down and your mouth shut and we’ll make it.’ Will pushed his protégé down the gangplank in
front of him.

Orders were being yelled out left, right and centre as they marched out of the docks and down the road that led to the Belgian border at Ypres.

Ten miles from the Allied trenches, the troops rested for the night in a holding camp; even that far back from the front line, they could smell gunpowder and hear the pounding shells and
gunfire. Will could hear Billy in the bunk above him sniffling and crying.

‘Quiet, lad, you can’t go home to your mother now – it’s too late. You’ll have to grow up and be a man. Get some sleep, ’cos this will be the last good
night’s kip you’ll have for a long time.’ Will looked up at the wooden boards of the bed above his head and heard the young lad turn over. Not another word was spoken as Will
gazed into the night. In truth, he too was frightened. He longed to be back at the little cottage in Dent, even if it meant putting up with Nancy’s screams and his sister’s caustic
tongue. He knew now what a fool he’d been.

‘For fuck’s sake, Billy, keep your bloody head down – a good sniper could pot you off as easy as shaking hands.’ The two men lay with their backs
against the trench wall, both caked with mud, breathing heavily after making a dash from one trench to another. Will watched a rat run along the trench wall, squeaking as it went. It had no fear of
the two men watching it; there were rich pickings among the dead and dying and it knew how to survive. ‘Bloody flea-infested things! I woke with one of ’em running across my face
t’other night.’ Will lit a cigarette and offered it to Billy before he lit one for himself.

Billy inhaled the smoke and then exhaled slowly, watching the smoke rise above the edge of the trench. ‘I hate ’em an’ all. We used to have them on the farm, around the pigpens
mainly, but never as big as this. These French rats are nearly as big as dogs.’ Billy turned on his side and examined his canteen. It had taken a battering as he flung himself into the
trench.

‘Well, that looks knackered to me. We’ll pick one up somewhere en route, or Sarge will issue you with one.’ Will threw his cigarette stub into the filthy mud. ‘Give us
ten minutes and then we’ll make our way over the top, back to our own trench. I’m a bit like your canteen – knackered. It’s hard keeping alive with them bastards always
taking a pop at you.’ Will shut his eyes and pulled his cap down.

As he catnapped in the wet and filthy trench, Billy sat watching him. Will had found out everything there was to find out about him, even down to the name of his pet dog. But Billy knew nothing
about Will, apart from the fact that if he hadn’t had him as a guardian angel, he’d have been killed fifty times over. The rough Yorkshireman was a crack shot and a good comrade, but he
kept himself to himself, never talked about his family or home. Billy closed his eyes; he couldn’t sleep, but he might as well rest while he could. The non-stop pounding of the big guns and
the cracking of rifle fire meant someone else was probably meeting their death right this minute. How he wished he’d not joined up. He’d seen things this last fortnight that a man his
age should never see. His mind raced with faces that he’d never see again and the cries of dying men. Then a hand grabbed his shoulder.

‘Some guard you are!’ Will was shaking him awake. ‘Come on, get ready – we’ll make a run for it. All’s a bit quieter at the moment.’ He adjusted his tin
helmet and stood ready with his rifle. ‘You make the run first and then I’ll follow. I’ll cover you, but be bloody quick – no dawdling like an old fellow.’ Will raised
his head over the trench. ‘Go on, then – there’s nothing about. It must be Jerry’s tea time.’

Billy’s heart was pounding; he hated these desperate scrambles between trenches where you felt like one of those ducks in the shooting gallery at the fair. He climbed the wooden ladder up
the side of the trench, his boots slipping on the mud-covered rungs and his hands shaking as he hauled himself to the top.

‘Go on, fuck off then, else Jerry’s going to blow you to bits,’ Will urged.

He gave Will a quick glance and then scrambled the few yards to his battalion’s trench, heart pounding, running half bent to dodge any bullets aimed for him. Overcome with relief, he threw
himself into the relative safety of his unit. He’d just picked himself up and was about to peer over the trench wall when a shot rang out. So distinct and clear, it was a shot that would be
with Billy for the rest of his life. As he stuck his head above the wall, Billy saw Will sink to the ground, a bullet hole straight through his head, blood streaming down his face. His eyes were
wide open, staring at Billy as he fell with arms outstretched, trying to reach for the safety of the trench. He was dead; Billy’s guardian was dead. The young man slid down the side of the
trench, curled up in a ball and sobbed, every bone in his body aching and shaking. Why couldn’t it have been him? Why Will? He’d always been able to hold his own, he didn’t fear
anything, and now he’d left him on his own.

Will’s body lay on the sodden, mud-covered ground of no-man’s-land until nightfall; then he was retrieved along with the other fallen, his details noted and his corpse buried in a
mass grave. No ceremony, just another statistic, another life claimed by the endless pounding of the guns of war.

Alice sat at the kitchen table, Gerald’s letter in her hands. She’d just finished reading it aloud to Nancy and was trying to head off the inevitable flood of tears
by playing up the few positive points: ‘At least he’s well, Nancy, and he sends us all his love. It doesn’t sound too bad: he’s got food and drink and—’

‘He’s going to die! They are all going to die! He’ll never come back. I’ll never see him again. He’ll be buried out there in one of those filthy trenches stabbed by
a Hun carrying a bayonet just like Will will be and all because of me.’ Hair uncombed and still in her nightgown even though it was mid-morning, she began rocking herself backwards and
forwards in her chair. ‘Everyone who loves me dies! I’m cursed!’ she wailed, tugging at her hair.

‘Nonsense! Lots of people have bad times in their lives, and right now there are thousands of young men out on the front lines. The one I can’t forgive is my brother – trust
him to take care of himself, leaving us like this with his baby due any minute.’ Alice put another log on the fire. It was a cold, frosty day and the autumn leaves were falling from the
trees. ‘Go and get some clothes on – you can’t sit around like that all day. We can’t have the local gossips thinking that you are going around half dressed.’

Alice was at her wits’ end. Ever since Will had absconded to join the army, Nancy had been impossible. If it hadn’t been for Jack occasionally popping in on his way up the dale to
see his dad, she was sure she would have gone mad. It was Jack who’d brought the mare back after a traveller who’d been staying at the Royal Shepherd in Kendal delivered Will’s
message saying that he’d stabled the horse at the inn and asking Jack to come and collect it. He was the one who listened as she poured out her worries and cursed her brother for leaving them
and going to fight in a war that had nothing to do with them. The rest of the time she kept her worries to herself, knowing there was nothing she could do and that sitting around moping would get
them nowhere.

‘Come on, let’s get you up those stairs so I can brush your hair and make you look respectable.’ She pulled at Nancy’s arm to ease her up out of the chair.

‘Alice, I don’t feel well today. I keep getting a pain in my stomach. I’ve been feeling it for a while. I didn’t want to say anything when you were reading the letter,
but now I think I better had . . .’ She looked down at her wet nightdress and the puddle of fluid that had appeared on the floor underneath her chair. Then she screamed, not knowing where it
had come from.

‘Shh, shh, keep calm, your baby’s on its way. Now, let’s get you up those stairs and in bed while we can.’ Though her voice remained calm, Alice was filled with panic as
she ushered her screaming sister-in-law up the stairs. She needed the doctor, or at least old Mrs Batty, but the thought of her entering the house made her skin crawl. ‘We’ll get you
into bed and then I’ll have to run and ask someone to go and get the doctor.’

‘Don’t leave me, Alice, please don’t leave me – the baby’s coming,’ she cried, grabbing Alice by the neck.

‘Stop it, Nancy – it takes hours for babies to be born. My mother was on three days when she had Will, I remember her telling me. It’ll not come yet, don’t worry. Now
that I’ve got you settled, I’ll go and put some hot water on – we’ll need it to wash the baby.’ She paused until Nancy, gripped by another spasm of pain, had finished
screaming. ‘I’ll not be long. Stop in the bed until I come back up and you’ll be all right.’

She rushed downstairs, grabbing her shawl from behind the kitchen door, and ran as if the devil himself was after her across the fields to the neighbouring farm of Cow Dubb. Banging on the door
and fighting for breath, she pleaded with young Ben Harper to go get the doctor from Dent and to be quick about it. As she raced back across the fields to Stone House, Alice looked over her
shoulder and saw Ben galloping round the first bend in the road, his jacket flapping around him. By the time she reached the lane end she could hear Nancy’s screams. It was all she could do
to keep going. The muscles in her legs were burning as if they were on fire, her heart was pounding, and her lungs were struggling to take in air.

Somehow she found the breath to yell up the stairs between pants: ‘I’m coming, I’m coming, Nancy. I’m just putting some water on.’ Hurriedly filling the kettle and
putting it on to boil, she hauled herself upstairs to Nancy, who was screaming so loud Alice thought her eardrums would burst.

‘The baby’s coming, the baby’s coming,’ Nancy panted, perspiration running off her brow.

There was nothing else for it: Alice was going to have to deliver it as best she could.

She grabbed some towels from the bathroom and arranged them under Nancy. ‘Breathe, Nancy, breathe. Try not to scream . . . I think I can see it coming . . . That’s right. I think I
can see the head . . . Push, Nancy, push . . . One more big one . . . Go on, you can do it.’

With an almighty scream from Nancy, the baby was born, its red face all screwed up and angry-looking. Alice wrapped the little mite in one of the towels, hoping that her attempt at cutting the
umbilical cord would be acceptable to Dr Bailey, who was hopefully on his way. Exhausted and soaked with perspiration, Nancy lay back, grateful that the ordeal was over. Alice wiped the
newborn’s face and handed the swaddled bundle to its mother.

‘You have a little girl, Nancy, and she’s beautiful – just look at her!’

The new arrival’s eyes were closed tight, as if she had no desire to see the world she’d been thrust into.

‘She’s beautiful, and she’s all mine.’ Nancy gazed down at her daughter with tears in her eyes. ‘I wish her father was here to see her. Will he ever be able to see
her, Alice?’ A tear dropped onto the new baby’s head, christening her with love.

‘I don’t know, Nancy. I really don’t know. But she will always have us two, and we are all she needs.’

‘I’ll call her Alice – after all, you’ve brought her into the world. Alice Rose. Rose was my mother’s name.’ Nancy bent and kissed Baby Alice on the head.
‘Hello, Alice Rose. I’m your mother and this is Aunty Alice.’ She smiled at Alice and yawned.

‘I’ll go and get the cot; then we can wrap Baby Alice up and put her in it. The doctor’s on his way – no doubt he’ll want to check you over on his arrival.’
Alice dragged the heavily draped cot next to the bed and gently placed the sleeping baby inside. ‘Now then, let’s tidy you up a bit, and then you can have a little sleep. You’ll
need all your strength with a new baby to feed.’