Connie’s Courage (26 page)

Pain and longing savaged him. Somehow he had thought that the pain of loving her would lessen with time, and not increase.

The guests drifted away until only the family was left. All too soon it was time for the bridal couple to leave, and Sophie, reluctant to release the happy excitement of the day, pleaded to be allowed to go with them as far as Liverpool station.

‘Yes, why don't you all come, Mother?' Mavis begged. ‘That way you can see Harry off as well, since he has to return to his barracks tonight.'

‘An excellent idea,' the Best Man agreed. ‘And you need not worry about getting back home, ma'am,' he assured Mavis's mother, ‘for I shall undertake to bring you back here safe and sound.'

‘Goodbye, dearest Connie. And thank you for everything!'

Silently Connie returned her friend's fierce hug
and then stepped back only to have Frank give her a big bear hug himself, his honest face slightly red with embarrassment as he announced gruffly, ‘Don't think that Mavis hasn't told me about the part you played in bringing this about Connie. As close as sisters, that's what Mavis says you are, and it's as much a sister you will be to me now as young Sophie is.

‘All of us consider Connie to be part of our family, Mavis declared emotionally before adding, ‘Harry, I pray that you will be kept safe and well. And Mother thank you for everything … Connie, I shall see you next week when I am back on duty, and Sophie, you help mother.

Another round of fierce hugs and then the porter was blowing his whistle and Frank was urging Mavis toward the waiting train.

‘I must take my own leave of you now, Mother, Harry announced quietly.

He could see the anxiety in his mother's eyes.

‘I pray that you will be safe, Harry.

‘Oh, since the other men have nicknamed me Lucky, I think you can be sure of it,' Harry joked, but Sophie's face was already crumpling and she flung herself into his arms.

‘There, Sophie, no tears now,' he comforted her gently.

Connie had tried to distance herself from them, but as she stepped back from Harry, Sophie took hold of her hand and cried out, ‘Harry, you have not said goodbye to Connie yet.

Numbly Connie tried to force her lips into a smile, as her unwanted tears blurred her sight of Harry's face.

‘Connie!'

Unable to stop himself Harry took told of her, holding her as tightly as he dared.
This
would be the memory he took with him into battle he admitted; the feel of Connie's warm flesh against his own, the scent of her, the soft brush of her hair against his chin. He felt her tremble, and instinctively he whispered her name.

Blindly Connie lifted her face to snatch one last look at him, one last memory to hold and treasure.

Her tears, the soft warmth of her breath against his skin, were more than Harry could bear. Bending his head he pressed a fiercely passionate kiss against her mouth.

Harry was kissing her, no doubt overwhelmed by the emotion of his departure, Connie acknowledged dizzily, as she clung to him and wished with all of her turbulent heart that he was hers, and that she had the right to share this sweetest and most tenderly intimate of embraces with him.

A shrill whistle pierced the air, bringing them back to reality. As Harry released her Connie whispered to him, ‘Be safe, Harry.'

Connie watched as he plunged away from them and into the mêlée of men on the platform, reaching for Mavis's mother's hand as carriage doors slammed and the train disappeared into the smoky distance.

In the emotion of the moment, neither Mrs Lawson nor Sophie seemed to have noticed the kiss she had shared with Harry. But Connie knew she would never forget it.

‘You'd have thought that Josie would have put on a better spread than this for her Ted's funeral. I mean it's not as though she mustn't have been expecting it like, him being so poorly an all, Vera complained, as she pulled a face over the sandwich she was eating.

Silently Connie and Mavis exchanged speaking looks. Unlike Vera, who had only arrived in time for the funeral tea, they had both not only attended the funeral itself but also done as much as they could to help Josie in other ways, too.

‘I still can't believe he's gone, Josie had sobbed piteously when Connie and Mavis had gone to help her lay out the body, a familiar task now so far as the two friends were concerned.

‘And the Government can say what it likes, my Bert is not enlisting,' Vera continued defiantly, tossing her head. ‘Why should he when it's against his principles?

Connie and Mavis exchanged another look.

‘And what principles would those be, Vera?

Connie couldn't resist challenging her sharply. ‘The Bert put-yourself-first principles?'

‘By, but you've got a cheek! Vera retorted, her face going red. ‘If you must know, Miss Clever Clogs, my Bert is a conscientious objector!

Connie knew that if she hadn't felt so bitterly contemptuous she would have laughed.

‘If your Bert possesses anything remotely resembling a conscience of any kind, I'd be very surprised to hear it, she contented herself with saying cynically instead.

‘Well that's all you know, Bert has been against this War right from the start. Said all along it shouldn't ha been allowed, he did. Anyway, now that the papers are full of this big push that's going to knock the Germans for six, and put them in their place for once and for all, the whole thing is going to be over and done with. Bin working night and day down at the munitions factory, we have, for months now. That's why I couldn't get ere for the service. Not that it was much of one by all accounts, him being a Methodist. Can't beat a good Catholic funeral in my book. Know how to send ‘em off proper-like the Catholics do …

‘Pity your Frank and that brother o' yours rushed to join up, Mavis. Could have saved themselves the bother. If you'd have had any sense, you'd have married your Frank sooner and then he wouldn't ‘ave needed to go, leastways not until they bring in this law for conscripting married men, she added smugly.

‘Frank and Harry both volunteered, Mavis
reminded Vera, white-faced. ‘Unlike your Bert they put their duty to their country before their own safety!'

It was unlike Mavis to be so outspoken, and Vera looked resentfully taken aback. ‘ ‘Ere keep your hair on, Mavis. Mind you, I must say I'm surprised that the Army ‘ud take someone like that brother of yours, what with his weak chest and all. And fancy your Frank volunteering as well, ‘im being in the police, like.' She gave another defiant toss of her head. ‘But then some folk don't ‘ave the sense they was born with, do they, and all as they can think about is a row of medals and calling themselves a hero!'

Vera, you've got no call to be speaking to Mavis like that,' Connie objected, immediately going to her friend's defence. And if you had a ha'pennyworth of sense, you'd know that for yourself, without having to be told it. If you want the truth, then your Bert is no better than a coward, and in your shoes I'd keep my opinions on others to myself. Mavis and me know better than most what happens to conscientious objectors once word gets out about them – and that's just before they end up in hospital. There's a Sister that I know of who mixes her own special enemas to give to men like your Bert,' Connie told Vera darkly.

An angry flush ran along Vera's face as she glowered mutinously at Connie, but she didn't try to retaliate.

‘Vera really is the living end, Mavis pronounced later, as she and Connie walked back to the hospital. ‘I wouldn't mind so much, Connie, if I thought that her Bert really was a conscientious objector.

‘He and Vera have always been the kind to look out for themselves first,' Connie reminded her.

‘I don't mind admitting that she fair got my back up, Mavis admitted, before laughing, ‘mind you, the look on her face when you said about that enema!

Connie laughed. ‘I couldn't help myself. Not that I don't feel a bit sorry for them.

Mavis sighed. ‘Me, too. We had one on our ward a while back. He'd been caught by a gang of women and forced to drink carbolic. She gave Connie a speaking look. ‘It was so pitiful to see him die, Connie, and his poor mother …

‘It isn't cowardice that makes them refuse to fight, no matter what some folks might say,' Connie agreed soberly. ‘But it gets my goat to have Vera standing there and criticising your Frank and … and your … and Harry, when they re risking their lives for the sake of her and her bloody Bert!

‘Do you think Vera is right when she says it will all be over soon? Mavis asked Connie shakily.

‘I don't know, Mavis, Connie answered her honestly.

She suspected that they were both remembering how, right at the start of the War, they had been
promised that it would be over by Christmas – and that had been two years ago!

‘It says in the papers that after the losses at Ypres the Government is determined to crush the Germans once and for all.'

Both girls looked at one another.

‘I couldn't bear it if either Frank or Harry came back like those poor men who were gassed, Connie, or those others whose minds have been so badly affected.' Mavis stopped speaking and shuddered, whilst Connie gripped her bottom lip between her teeth and looked away from her. ‘I'd rather they were killed outright than suffer that.'

There were soldiers in what had originally been the Infirmary's lunatic asylum ward, who raved and sobbed, or just sat silently never speaking. No one ever talked about them, not even their bewildered and shocked families.

‘Have you had word from either of them?' Connie asked Mavis, as they neared the hospital.

‘Yes, Mother has had a letter from Harry telling her that they were leaving for France, and Frank has written to me twice. Once saying that he hates Army food, and then a second time asking me what I would like him to bring me back from Paris!'

Dawn was already lighting the summer sky. Soon the order would be given for them to go over the top.

They had come up to the Front during the night,
marching at a swinging pace. Ernie had got out his mouth organ, and started playing a well-known music hall tune. Someone had started to sing, and then the others had joined in, all of them aware of the bright spots of light stabbing the darkness as the British artillery pounded out its shells into the distant enemy lines. Every now and again a staff car had slid past them, raising a rousing cheer from the marching men.

As they had passed through one small French town, a French sentry had raised his arm in a salute and called out to them,
‘Bonne chance, mes camarades.'

‘Wots he say Arry? Ernie had demanded.

‘He's wishing us good luck, Harry had told him.

‘Aye, well, for myself I'd rather have some bloody support from the French troops instead of his bloody
bon chance!
Ernie had reported pithily, as a motorcycle despatch rider had raced past them furrowing up the road.

Around him everyone else was still asleep, and Harry reached into his jacket and removed the carefully-wrapped photograph he carried everywhere with him. Mavis had sent it him, and he smiled tenderly as he unwrapped it.

There was Mavis in her wedding dress with Frank standing proudly at her side. He himself was standing on her other side, next to his mother, whilst Sophie and Connie stood together next to Frank.

Connie! Harry closed his eyes and let his emotions roll over him. Maybe it was wrong to let himself think of her now, when rightfully his thoughts should be with his wife. But in his heart, Connie was the woman he cherished and worshipped above all others, and since God must surely see and know that, there was no point in trying to conceal his feelings from Him, Harry reflected. And He must know, too, that he had gone to sleep thinking of Connie last night, and that it would be her image he took with him today when he went into battle.

‘'Arry?'

As he heard Ernie's voice, he quickly rewrapped the photograph and put it away. The rations were coming round and the camp was coming to life. Automatically he reached out for his pack, even though he had already checked its contents a dozen or more times. The methodical, practical, physical action was somehow comforting.

‘I can't do it. I can't … I'm too scared. We're all going to be killed, I know it. I'm getting out of here.' A pitifully young soldier, more of a boy than a man, had started to sob noisily in panic.

‘Belt up, you young idiot,' Ernie, who was sitting next to him, protested sharply, swearing under his breath before warning him, if the Sergeant hears you carrying on like that he'll have you shot as a deserter and no messing. ‘Ere ‘Arry, give us a hand,' he urged, making a grab for the boy's arm.

‘I don't care. I'd rather be shot now than left to die with me belly ripped open by some Hun.'

The other men were beginning to react to the boy's panic and Harry felt his heart ache with pity for the youngster, as he went to Ernie's aid.

The boy was their youngest recruit, and only just sixteen. He had admitted tearfully to Harry and Ernie that he had been bullied into enlisting by a group of female munitions workers who had virtually marched him down to the recruiting office, and stood over him whilst he signed his name.

All of them were on edge, knowing that as soon as dawn broke properly, they would be told to fall-in and wait for the order to go into action, storming across no man's land to drive back the enemy. The youngster's panic was doing neither himself, nor anyone else, any favours. But still Harry could not help sympathising with the boy, and feeling protective toward him, just as he would have done toward one of his pupils.

‘Johnny, you can't turn back,' he told him gently. ‘We can only go forward now.'

‘No … No … I'm not going to do it, I can t, and you can't make me … I'm going home to me mam, he sobbed wildly.