Читать книгу Goodbye for Now: A breathtaking historical debut - M.J. Hollows - Страница 18

The conversation hadn’t gone exactly as he had planned, but he hadn’t expected his ma to storm out quite like that. It was good of Uncle Stephen to stay behind and give him some encouragement, but then he had left too. He hoped he would see him again before shipping out. He loved his uncle dearly. George put his face in his hands, elbows on the desk. He felt like crying, but a soldier didn’t cry. A man didn’t cry. He would remain strong for his mother’s sake, but it was so difficult.

He heard the door click open again and looked up. He had expected his mother or Uncle Stephen, but it was his brother. He hadn’t realised Joe was home. How much had he heard? Joe didn’t say anything, but stood in the doorway looking sad. He always looked that way, some might say he had a sad face. George couldn’t remember if he had ever seen his brother smile. At least, he never had with George in the room. Now, though, he looked as if he were about to break out in tears. It was a sentiment George shared, but how could he tell his brother that?

Joe opened his mouth, about to say something, but then was interrupted by the sound of their father’s cane on the hallway tiles. ‘What are you two doing moping around here?’ he said, joining them in the kitchen. He was dressed in his work clothes, a woollen suit and bow tie. George knew that he so much wanted to be wearing his uniform, but his father would only ever get to wear it on special occasions. He wouldn’t be joining George in France. ‘Why aren’t you down the dock getting work, and why aren’t you at that paper of yours?’ He limped to the table and lowered himself into a chair. ‘Where’s that mother of yours? She’s normally here when I get home from work.’

George wasn’t sure what to say. His father wasn’t unused to his wife’s bouts of sadness, but it wouldn’t make him particularly happy to hear about another. Besides, George had something important to tell him, and he didn’t want to put him in a worse mood. He was sure that his dad would be proud of him, and he would have to tell him sooner, or later. ‘D—’

‘She’s just gone for a walk with Lizzie,’ Joe interrupted, giving George a pointed look. He wasn’t sure why Joe had interrupted. He always had to get in the way of things, ever since they were little he had been trying to get in George’s way. But this wasn’t the time; he was a soldier now and that gave him a certain sense of power.

‘I’ve got something I need to tell you, Dad.’ He took a gulp of air, remembering how his mother had reacted. He found it difficult to say what he wanted to. It should have been easier to tell his father, but he felt a strange sense of reluctance. Perhaps it was because of Joe’s presence as well. He plunged ahead. ‘I went to the recruitment office, up on Gwent Street. I went with Tom.’

His father didn’t look up. He was flicking through the newspaper on the kitchen table, grumbling to himself with the turn of each page. George wasn’t sure that he was even listening.

‘He and I…’ George paused again, trying to read his father’s expression. ‘He and I… well, we signed up. We signed up to the regiment, Dad. We wanted to go out to Europe, to France. We wanted to stop the Hun.’ The words came out in a torrent, as if a floodgate had been opened. George thought what he had been trying to say was obvious, but the silence in the room had made him spurt it out. Joe sighed and sat down in another chair with a thump. He didn’t say anything, but shook his head, then put his head in his hands. Their father carried on reading the newspaper. Nothing could change George’s mind now.

‘Dad?’ George said, unsettled by his father’s silence. He knew that when his father was silent, something was brewing. George thought that his father was going to cry out as his mother had done and felt guilty again. She had made him second guess his decision, but all along he had thought that his father would support him. Had he made a mistake? No, he couldn’t have. He thought of returning to work on the dock and it made him shudder. He couldn’t go through that again. His father’s stories of the army sounded much better. It had made his father a man and given him so much pride. After all, that’s how his parents had met. George wanted the same sense of belonging, to make something of himself. The dock had no prospect of advancement. Most of the men that worked there were twice his age and would never be anything more.

‘Right,’ his father said at last, in a low voice that always signalled he had made his mind up about something. He pushed the now closed newspaper to one side and looked at both of them, before settling on George. ‘That’s that then.’

Joe leaned forward on his elbows. ‘If I had known—’

‘You keep out of this.’ Their dad didn’t even look at Joe, but stared at George. The gaze was piercing, as if his father was trying to see into his very soul and guess his inner thoughts. His father had often told them off, but George hadn’t seen his father look like this before. It made him shudder. ‘You’ve made your decision then. I had expected you to wait a few years, but what’s done is done.’

He couldn’t have sat around and waited. What if the war was over before he got his chance? He couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing he was here doing nothing and others were out there defending their country. He had always felt older than his years, which was perhaps something to do with being a younger brother and everyone he knew being older than him. Most of them treated him like an adult, except his brother.

‘We could tell the recruiting office that they’ve made a mistake?’

‘Don’t you dare, Joseph. If he’s taken the King’s shilling then he’s one of us now. He’s a soldier, and there’s nothing that can be done to change that. Besides, it’s what you want, isn’t it, George?’

George nodded. He thought about all the answers he could possibly give, all the different reasons. What would be the best thing to say? What did his dad want to hear?

‘Of course, I always wanted to,’ he said, and hesitated again. Why was it so difficult to talk to his dad? He felt like a child again. ‘Now felt like the right time. When we got there, to the recruiting office, there was a whole line of other men signing up, including some I knew from school. I couldn’t let them go without me. How would I feel sat here waiting? It wouldn’t be right not to do my bit too.’

‘Good, honourable reasons.’ His father stood up and limped towards him. The click of the cane was deafening in the kitchen. He then put a hand on George’s shoulder. It took all his willpower not to flinch. ‘If it helps, I think you’ve done the right thing, son.’

‘But he’s too young.’ Joe stood up and George thought that he was going to storm out again. Why was he getting involved? What was it to him if George enlisted? At least it would take the attention off him. ‘How could they let him enlist? It’s clear he’s not old enough.’

‘He’s a grown man now, bigger than me or you, Joe,’ their father said. ‘He’s an intelligent chap, that’s what they’ve seen. They’ll make him an officer in no time. And every man should do his bit. You know, I wish I was coming with you.’

‘You’re both mad.’ Joe was pacing now, every bit as angry as he had been the other morning. He looked as if steam was about to burst out of his head, which had gone red.

‘Don’t talk to me like that, Joseph. I’m your father. Don’t forget that you should be doing your bit too. If you weren’t so selfish… What gives you the right to judge, Joseph? You, who won’t lift his finger to help another.’ Joe was frowning, furious, but he didn’t storm out as he had last time. Still, their father didn’t look at Joe, as if he didn’t want to see him. Only George glanced between the two of them, oddly noticing how alike they appeared at this moment.

‘No, Dad. People die in wars. Look at your leg! Do you want the same for George?’

‘How dare you?’ Their father raised his voice only enough to make Joe be quiet. It was a commanding voice he had practised for years. ‘I was just one of the unlucky ones. Our George won’t be. He’s got a smart head on his shoulders. He’s smarter than I ever was.’

‘I have to go to work.’ Joe moved to the kitchen door, but waited on the threshold. He gave George another sad look, slightly too long so that it became awkward, then with a sigh he left. George heard the front door close a few seconds later.

‘When do you go?’ his father asked, sitting again.

George didn’t know the answer to that question. They would start training soon, he had been told, but technically he wasn’t eligible to go out to Belgium yet.

‘I don’t know. The regulars have been mobilised, but I joined the territorials, the reservists. They haven’t told us when we will be shipped out yet. I don’t even have any kit.’

He handed over the form that he had been given after enlisting, along with the shilling that he had taken as part of the ritual of signing up. ‘This is what they gave me. We’ll have drill training and then when they need us we’ll get our mobilisation orders. I’m not even old enough to go yet. They might decide to keep me back.’

‘They won’t. What did you tell them about your age?’

‘I told them that I was eighteen, almost nineteen.’

‘You gave them your actual day of birth, son?’

‘Not the full date, no. I just changed the year by two and so to them I’m eighteen.’

‘Very clever, half a lie rather than a full one.’ His father’s face became a brief smirk. ‘Speaking of clever, or not, have you seen this rubbish they printed in the paper? All about the cost of war and encouraging lads to think about their decision before signing up. It’s cowardice, rank cowardice if you ask me. Typical of the kind of nonsense that your brother gets up to at that paper. This Albert Barnes should be ashamed of himself. How could they let him write such a thing, let alone publish it?’

‘It wasn’t him, Dad. I overheard him say it wasn’t. He’s even signed up for the regiment. I saw him at the recruitment office.’

‘Odd.’ His father was back flicking through the newspaper.

George had a thought and rummaged in his pocket. He pushed the shilling across the table. His confidence was rising by the second, secure in the knowledge that his father was on his side. He could do anything with his father on side. ‘It’s not much, but there will be more where that’s come from and I’ll make sure it is sent here while I’m out in France, for you and Ma.’

‘We don’t care about the money, George. We get along all right. This isn’t about money.’ He shoved the paper aside again and looked at George. This time his eyes were full of warmth. Gone was the stare that made George feel tiny. ‘This is about doing something right; doing something bigger than yourself. The money is yours if you want it, we’ve no right to claim it. You’ve done the right thing.’