The CBB :: View topic - The Village Boy's Tale Part 6

The Village Boy's Tale Part 6 - 01/06/05 COMPLETE

#1: The Village Boy's Tale Part 6 - 01/06/05 COMPLETE Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 6:14 pm

Walking out of the station, I paused to decide what to do next. Matron had been complaining about the state of my shirts for a while. The collars and cuffs had already been turned and now there were fraying again. There was nothing for it but a shopping expedition. I’d see if I could find Marks & Spencer and buy a couple.

I had two hours before I was due to meet Miss Hatcherd for lunch. If I was to make Yorkshire my home for the foreseeable future, perhaps I should get to know a bit more of Leeds. I set out along Boar Lane and turned up Briggate, being distracted by the indoor Market and then saw Marks and Spencer. I went in and chose two new shirts from the small range available and a pair of trousers. The assistant looked with amazement at my unused coupons and then at my rather shabby appearance and hesitated.

“Ermm, You haven’t bought any clothes since rationing began in 1941, Sir. Are you sure there is nothing else you need?” She blushed and looked down, embarrassed, and then, squaring her shoulders, looked me straight in the eye, “I hope I’m not being cheeky but after what you’ve been through, you deserve to look after yourself.”

I couldn’t help flushing. No one, had commented so openly on my looks for some time. Then I saw that her eyes were showing, not pity, but sorrow.

“Did you lose someone?”

“My husband. He was a Spitfire pilot. They did what they could, but …..”

“Was he at East Grinstead?”

“Yes. I guessed you were, too.”

I felt a momentary pang of shame. I was alive and so many had died and I couldn’t even rise above my problems to look presentable. Catching sight of myself in a long mirror, for the first time in two years, I realised that my clothing really was shabby (as Matron had told me in no uncertain terms), perhaps I ought to make the effort.

“You’re right.” I said, ruefully. “I’ve just let myself go. I don’t look in a mirror unless I have to these days. I’d better have some underwear, socks and another pair of trousers. Do I have enough coupons for that?”

The girl’s face lit up. “Goodness, yes. You get sixty six coupons a year and you’ve got three years worth. You could have everything new for that” She hesitated and blushed again. “If you wanted to, of course.”

I realised that she had suddenly thought of the monetary implications. I grinned and told her that, within reasonable limits, that would not be a problem.

“I’m a teacher at a boys’ boarding school out in the country.” I explained. “It’s not a very big salary but I get my keep and there aren’t any shops nearby so the money just sits there. Come on, help me shop.”

The assistant took me round the store and helped me choose two more shirts, enough underwear to replace everything I had, more socks, two pullovers, another pair of trousers and to crown it all, she even found a suit in my size and I chose a new tie.

I was slightly appalled at the thought of spending so much money on clothes but I knew that this young woman was right and only confirming what Matron had been trying to tell me.

As we walked back to the till, I suddenly had a thought. My hair was overdue for a cut and, having seen myself in the mirror, perhaps I ought to change into some of the new clothes before I took an attractive young woman out to lunch.

“You can help me with something else if you will.” I said, hesitantly. “Is there a good barber between here and the Headrow and is there anywhere I could change? I think the clothes I’ve got on should be relegated to working on the car.”

“There’s a barber farther up the street. As for changing, just wait a moment.” She left me and went over to an older man, who I guessed was the Manager. After a few minutes conversation, he came over and offered to take me to the staff cloakroom, guiding me through a maze of corridors.

I changed into my new suit and a new white shirt and the rather smart tie. I was surprised to find that I immediately stood more upright and actually felt different – most strange. When I came out of the cloakroom, my old clothes over my arm, the Manager was waiting and looked with satisfaction at my new appearance.

“Definitely better.” He said, approvingly.

“It does seem strange not to have turnups.”

“All part of saving cloth, we can’t even sell double breasted suits. If you don’t mind me saying so, you do look smarter. I can understand clothes seeming unimportant to you but it does help morale if we make an effort, even if it is just for best. Those of us who can’t make a direct contribution really look up to you people you know, One of our Assistant Managers at a store in London was a Spitfire Pilot and he reckons civilian morale is probably more important than most things as the war drags on. He crashed and only came back a few months ago.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way but it makes sense. It’s difficult to adjust though. I forget about it at school because everyone knows me, then I come out and people stare. Let’s face it, it’s not pretty.”

“I think people need you to look as if you are coping, however you feel inside. It’s another thing you can do to help. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.”

“Not at all. You’ve given me something to think about.”

“Good. Mrs Grey will pack your old clothes for you with the rest of your shopping.”

We emerged into the shop and, after thanking Mrs Grey and the Manager, I emerged laden with rather more parcels than I had planned. The barber was equally helpful and soon I was luxuriating in a cup of tea while I read the Yorkshire Post in a nice little teashop. Then I wandered up to the Headrow and discovered that I had timed it nicely.

Last edited by patmac on Wed Jun 01, 2005 5:55 pm; edited 18 times in total

#2: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 6:29 pm

Heyyyyyy! It's back - knew you wouldn't be able to leave it for long Pat - it's an obsession! Laughing

Lovely post - how nice for Hugh to meet up with such understanding and sympathetic people.

Laughing

Soooooo Happy this is back.

Last edited by Lesley on Wed May 11, 2005 6:36 pm; edited 1 time in total

#3: Author: Ann, Location: Newcastle upon Tyne, England

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 6:30 pm

It's back! Mexican Wave

That wasn't a very long break, Pat - not that I'm complaining, of course!

#4: Author: Mia, Location: London

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 6:37 pm

Hooray! Thanks Pat! Looking good as ever!

#5: A Village Boy's Tale part 6 Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 6:49 pm

Great to see this back again, Patmac - and thanks for my wander down memory lane of the centre of Leeds as I remember it soon after the War!!

Love the encouragement Hugh got from Mrs. Grey and the M&S manager - and that 'mini-sermon' of encouragement to make the best of appearances, from the Spifire pilot.

#6: Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 7:13 pm

thanks Pat. My f-in-l used to work in a deparmtent store on Briggate (I think). It closed down soon after the War ended.

#7: Author: Laura, Location: London (ish)

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 7:45 pm

Yay! It's lovely to see this back Pat. Thank you!! Very Happy

#8: Author: keren, Location: Israel

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 8:33 pm

Great.
Its back

#9: Author: Sugarplum, Location: second star to the right!

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 8:44 pm

Yay It's back! Thanks Patmac.

#10: Author: Sophoife, Location: down under Down Under

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 8:57 pm

Shiny shiny Patmac!

So glad to see that the forcefield is still holding Twisted Evil

#11: Author: Susan, Location: Carlisle

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 9:29 pm

Thank you pat so nice to see this back again. Glad Hugh met such nice people and is looking so smart.

#12: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 10:28 pm

Yay - it's back! Very Happy

*tries hard not to gloat*

You know my feelings on this already, but haveto say Lovely! (start as I mean to go on! Wink

)

#13: Author: Kathy_S, Location: midwestern US

Posted: Wed May 11, 2005 11:13 pm

Very happy to see this!

*hopes Miss Hatcherd appreciates the effort*

#14: Author: Vikki, Location: Sitting on an iceberg, freezing to death!!!

Posted: Thu May 12, 2005 12:08 am

Yay! Yay! Yay!

Thank you PatMac!!!!

#15: Author: MaryR, Location: Sale Cheshire

Posted: Thu May 12, 2005 7:18 am

Thanks for bringing itback, Pat. I was missing them all. Very Happy

#16: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Thu May 12, 2005 7:32 am

Thanks, Pat. I wasn't expecting it so soon. Very, very shiny.

#17: Author: Joey, Location: Cambridge

Posted: Thu May 12, 2005 11:16 am

It's back!

O frabjous day! Calloo! Callay!

Thank you, Pat - great to see this again.

#18: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Thu May 12, 2005 1:18 pm

Yay!!! Thank you Pat! Wonderful. Lovely to see Hugh shopping and the support from Miss Grey and the Manager. Hope he has a lovely lunch!

#19: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Thu May 12, 2005 6:15 pm

Thank you everybody. I begin to think this is turning into a Saga rather than a drabble!

Katy's forcefield has trapped several argumentative bunnies and, though I wanted to speed things up a bit, I couldn't get on with the next part till this was written. I'm quite impressed that she can operate it from the other side of the world.

I went into the bookshop where Mrs Hatcherd was serving a customer. She smiled at me and I waited while she finished.

“Hello, Mr Douglas. Dorothy will be through in a minute. You look as if you’ve had a busy morning!”

“Oh, I only went in for a couple of shirts and then I caught sight of myself in the mirror and they persuaded me I needed virtually everything new. I’ve not bought anything except socks since 1938 or so.”

“Well you look very smart now. How did you get on with the books?”

“They’re proving very popular, thank you. I’ve got a list of boys wanting to borrow them and I overheard a conversation between a group the other day, planning which books they should ask their parents to buy for them at Christmas so they didn’t all get the same ones!“

Dorothy appeared from the back room at this point, looking trim and slightly nervous and my heart gave a little lurch. I left my shopping in the care of Mrs Hatcherd and we walked to a small café nearby. We were quiet during the walk, not really knowing what to say but once we had given our orders, I broke the ice by telling her about the reception the books had received. The shared love of books soon had us chatting happily, throughout the meal.

As we sat lingering over a final cup of tea, I told her about my ideas for a big overhaul of the library, at some stage, to make it more attractive to the boys.

“Boys of this age don’t really use it for studying and they just don’t go in there. I sometimes think people have sent old books just to get rid of them. It’s dark, it smells of musty old books and I should think if anyone tried to take some of them off the shelves, they’d fall apart! There’s no less than seven complete sets of Shakespeare, not one of them published after around 1830! Some of them are even too big for the boys to lift – why would anyone want to send an enormous tome on eighteenth century veterinary medicine to a Junior School?”

I stopped, realising I was getting carried away but she just laughed.

“Perhaps a College might want it? What would you replace them with?”

“A mix of fiction and non-fiction but much more relevant to the age group. Oh, I know it’s just a pipe dream.”

To my surprise, she didn’t agree.

“You can’t do much immediately, I agree. It would cost too much, even if you could get the books in the quantity you need, and you’re a bit new to make sweeping changes, but you’ve already made a start by getting the boys interested in reading and you say they are queuing up to borrow the books you took back last time. If you could get a small but more formal system set up where you could use a small area in the library and have a proper lending system, it could grow. Perhaps some of the older boys could run it. That way it would be they’d feel they had control of it.”

She blushed.

“Here I go again! Mum says I’m much too ready with advice.”

“I wouldn’t have told you, if I didn’t want your thoughts on it. I’ll ‘think on’ as the locals say. You’ve cheered me up no end. It might have to wait till we have quite few more books but it’s a start. Anyway, I’ve monopolised the conversation long enough. How are things going for you. Have you heard from your father and brother?”

She told me about the letters they had received. Both were well, though she was obviously concerned about her brother who was a tail gunner on a bomber.

“He doesn’t say much.” She finished. “I suppose he can’t. The censors wouldn’t let him, but last time he had leave, he was thinner and he even had some grey hairs! He’s only twenty eight. Mum and I don’t talk about it but I know she worries, too. You do hear things.”

Her voice faltered and I really didn’t know what to say but, without thinking, I put my hand over hers. She didn’t pull away and my heart gave another little lurch. I was getting to like her more than I really should.

We sat for a moment and then she pulled herself together and gave me a weak smile. I took my hand away and returned her smile.

“Don’t worry about talking to me about it. You need to air your worries once in a while.”

“Thanks.” She changed the subject. “Did I tell you I heard from Hilary?”

I nodded. “Yes. You said she’d finished her course and was going back to teach at your old school.”

“Yes. I couldn’t remember if I told you. She’s coming to stay for a few days at Christmas. She’s got news of lots of old friends. I’m really looking forward to seeing her again.”

“It’s nice to catch up, isn’t it.” I said, cheerily, feeling a pang that I had lost touch with all my friends. “Didn’t you say the school had reopened on the Welsh borders?”

“Yes. Somewhere near a place called Armiford.”

I frowned. “Now where have I heard of Armiford before? I’m sure it’s only recently someone was talking about it. Perhaps we’ve got a boy from there.”

“Maybe it will come back to you.”

“Probably at three in the morning!”

“Only if you don’t try to think about it. It’s like looking for your keys. You have to creep up on them.”

We both laughed.

“Will you go back there to teach?”

She shook her head. “No. I liked it well enough but I’d rather stay somewhere nearer to home. I like Yorkshire. I’d like to live up in the Dales or on the Moors somewhere.” She sighed. “Anyway, I’ve got to go back and finish my training first.”

She looked at her wrist watch. “Goodness, I’d better get back. Mum needs to get to the bank before they close.”

We walked slowly back to the shop and I asked her if I could see her again during the Christmas Holidays. To my delight, she was quite willing and, after purchasing some more books, I took my leave and went to get the tram to the station, loaded down with parcels and walking on air.

#20: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Thu May 12, 2005 7:28 pm

Thank you Pat - good to see Hugh's romance is progressing nicely!

Laughing

#21: Author: Sophoife, Location: down under Down Under

Posted: Thu May 12, 2005 8:59 pm

patmac wrote:

Katy's forcefield has trapped several argumentative bunnies and, though I wanted to speed things up a bit, I couldn't get on with the next part till this was written. I'm quite impressed that she can operate it from the other side of the world.

Whose forcefield?

And those of us in touch with the Force...

Seriously, thank you so much this is super!!

#22: Author: Ann, Location: Newcastle upon Tyne, England

Posted: Thu May 12, 2005 9:30 pm

Hugh really is a man after my own heart! Would he like to come and work with me in my library?

#23: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Thu May 12, 2005 10:07 pm

Oh bless them! I feel all warm and fuzzy now! Very Happy

Quote:

“Only if you don’t try to think about it. It’s like looking for your keys. You have to creep up on them.”

So true!

Thanks Pat Kiss

#24: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Fri May 13, 2005 7:33 am

Hurrah!

Thanks Pat - you're spoiling us by posting more so soon. Please continue to do so Wink

Liz

#25: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Fri May 13, 2005 8:19 am

Lovely! Thank you Pat!

#26: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Fri May 13, 2005 12:19 pm

Do I spy a romance for Hugh on the horizon? Thanks Pat.

#27: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Fri May 13, 2005 6:38 pm

I made a nasty boo boo! Embarassed

I called Sophoife, who is really Anna, Katy! total laziness on my part from not checking before posting. However, she has graciously realeased the forcefield and is only keeping in the bunnies who are writing the first year at Polgarth Wink

The weekend passed quickly. Matron was much happier with my new clothes and said she would pass most of my old shirts to the seamstress in the village to use for making collars and cuffs for other customers. I kept a couple of old shirts and a pair of trousers for working on the car or gardening. No one else commented, though I expect they all noticed but didn’t like to say anything. I certainly felt better for smartening up.

Sunday afternoon saw me driving down to the station to collect Entwistle and Peters from the afternoon train. They arrived laden, carrying rather more luggage than when they set out, each carrying a shopping bag, probably cake or suchlike for their friends, and Entwistle had an extra, rather heavy and battered suitcase as I discovered when I picked it up to swing it into the boot.

“Good grief, what have you got in here? Bricks?”

The two boys laughed.

“No, much better. It’s books!”

“Hop in and you can tell me about it on the way up to the school.”

They climbed into the back of the car and we set off.

“Well? How come you’ve got a load of books?”

“It was my birthday on Saturday and I got eight brand new books. They were all the Arthur Ransome books, except the first, I’ve already got that; ‘Swallowdale’, and ‘Peter Duck’ and ‘Winter Holiday’ and ‘We didn’t mean to go to Sea’ and ‘Pigeon Post’ and ‘The Big Six’ and ‘Secret Water’ and the newest one, ‘Picts and Martyrs’.

Then I was telling Doctor Jack about school and how we were trying to get newer books. He didn’t want to let his Arthur Ransome books go because they’ve got little children who will grow into them and anyway he says he might read them again one day and he’d like to go on holiday to the Lake District and then he’ll want them to see where the places are and so he said he could let us have some other books for the library. He and Mrs Jo (that’s his wife) both hunted out some books for us. Some were ones they’ve got two copies of. There’s one about a French detective called Inspector Maigret and there’s one called Lonely Road. Then there’s some by someone called something Burroughs and lots more too. He says I have to show you so you can decide if some of them are suitable for us.”

He paused for breath and I could see in the mirror Peters stifling his laughter at the enthusiasm of the younger boy.

“There’s some books on bird watching and … And!” he paused for effect, “Mrs Jo writes children’s books. They’re mostly for girls, but she’s written one for boys and girls that’s all about history, the Forty-Five and all that and she’s going to send us a copy and then there’s one called The Hobbit, they’d got two of that and there’s one called ‘Stowaway to Mars’ and ……”

“Woah! It all sounds very exciting and I’m looking forward to seeing them, but I have to concentrate now. “

A convoy of army lorries was coming towards us, taking up most of the narrow road and we pulled into a gateway to let them past. It was the biggest troop movement we had seen for a while and the boys were full of speculation that this was the start of the long awaited move into the North of Europe. I was a bit sceptical. Even if it was the start, it would take months to prepare.

“Watch it, you two. Don’t go telling people what you’re guessing. If you’re right, you don’t want the wrong people to hear and if you’re wrong, you’ll be getting people’s hopes up for nothing.”

The boys subsided and we drove the rest of the way in comparative peace.

After dropping Peters off at the Senior School, Entwistle and I returned to Chaucer House in time for tea. I told him could bring his books to show me afterwards.

He’s an odd lad. Unusually serious in some ways and with an oddly adult view on life most of the time. He’s obviously very bright and he’s got guts, he was the only one to keep his head when Hanson fell down the cleft in the limestone pavement, but he’s usually quite reticent and I’ve never seen him so excited before.

Charles thinks he is driven by a need to prove himself to this Doctor Maynard who is paying for his schooling. I’m not sure Charles is right. The way he talks about ‘Doctor Jack’ is more like a favourite uncle. I wonder what the background is to this story, apparently they only met in the summer.

Entwistle duly brought the books to show me. I insisted he should keep all the new ones himself – if he wants to lend his birthday gifts to his friends, that’s his business, but he shouldn’t put them in the general lending collection. I think he was a little relieved at that.

I had a letter from the psychologist chappie who sent me here in the first place. I kept meaning to write and thank him and tell him he was right but there is always something more urgent. I wrote back the same day, feeling rather guilty and I was half way through the letter when a thought struck me. Leaving the letter unfinished, I went down to find John. It wouldn’t do to go over his head.

I found him in his study, snowed under with paperwork. Apparently, being a school secretary is not a reserved occupation so he’s perpetually behind with administration.

I told him what I was thinking and he immediately picked up the phone and spoke to the Head at the Senior School. When he put the phone down, he was beaming.

“Cartwright was nearly banging his head on his desk because neither of us had thought of that! Get that letter off and tell him to phone either Cartwright or me if he has anyone available.”

I returned to my room and finished the letter.

“Dear Doctor Gosling,

Thank you for your letter. I am so sorry that I have not written before but it has been rather hectic here. First of all, I hate to admit this but you were right. It has worked out extremely well for me. I don’t know if this is an unusual school, not having any prior experience of Public Schools, even minor ones, but I’ve certainly fitted in better than I dared hope. There are days when I don’t even think of what happened from morning till night and the nightmares are few and far between now.

I was struck with an idea as I wrote this and went to see John Wheeler about it before finishing this letter. Both the Junior and Senior Schools are incredibly short staffed. We even had one master who was seventy five and, literally, had a heart attack and died in his classroom earlier this term.

Do you have any other chaps who are qualified to teach and would consider moving to Yorkshire? They’d need to be mobile. No one in a wheelchair or even on crutches could cope, I’m afraid. There are just too many stairs here.

If you have anyone in mind, could you phone or write to John Wheeler if they could teach Juniors or Dr Eric Cartwright if they could cope with Seniors from thirteen upwards. I don’t honestly think the subject matters too much. We all teach at least two or we couldn’t cover everything.

I’m supposed to be seeing The Maestro at Easter next year to talk about more reconstruction and I will most definitely come and see you while I’m down.

Yours with thanks,

Hugh Douglas”

#28: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Fri May 13, 2005 8:12 pm

Excellent, Pat, lovely seeing Reg so enthusiastic - and what a great idea from Hugh.

Thanks

#29: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Fri May 13, 2005 8:13 pm

Thanks Pat

Reg is so generous. Hugh is so luffly. You are so wonderful Kiss

Liz

#30: Author: Carolyn P, Location: Lancaster, England

Posted: Fri May 13, 2005 8:41 pm

Can't believe I missed this starting earlier in the week. I am so glad to have it back, one of myn favourites, thanks Pat.

#31: Author: Dawn, Location: Leeds, West Yorks

Posted: Fri May 13, 2005 9:29 pm

So good to have this back Pat - and I'm guessing there's going to be lots and lots about Hugh which is great

sends some lovely greens and carrots for the bunny and chocolate and a bottle of wine for Pat

#32: Author: Beth, Location: Back in Durham...nearly finished a whole year!!

Posted: Sat May 14, 2005 3:40 pm

Hello, patmac! Now, I have a few things to say to you...

Firstly, I have just spent a couple of hours getting up to speed with Reg's story, and I wanted to tell you how much I've enjoyed it. Your writing is amazing - the characters are so well drawn and sympathetically written that it's impossible not to get involved with the story. The plot is ace too - and it's so good to have a fill-in for a generally harangued character!

The second thing is that I would like to put in a plea for you to keep writing for ever and ever and ever, and I'm sure the CBB will combine forces to send you (sadly only virtual) supplies in order for you to do this! However, please do make sure you take lots of time for yourself - I'm in constant fear that my favourite writers will burn themselves out, a la OOAOML.

The third thing is that I am very pleased that the next installment is underway, and I'm thrilled it involves Hugh (who, incidently, I'm planning on marrying).

And (almost!) lastly, I'd like to say a great big THANK-YOU!! for taking the time to write and post this - I really hope I've given you some idea of how much I like it!

Finally, I'm going to a) settle down to hear the next part of the story, and b) sit as close to you as I can (for some reason, I've envisaged you in a big comfy chair telling stories to a crowd of enraptured CBBers!) in the hope that some of the talent will rub off.

Thanks again, and apologies for taking such a big space to say all that!!
Beth.

*plonks self down to wait for some more*

#33: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Sat May 14, 2005 4:02 pm

at Reg and all his books. His enthusiasm is wonderful and so infectious. Very Happy

Very interesting to see Hugh's different perspective on Reg's realtionship with Jack too. He seems to understand Reg better than the others in many ways. Glad he stopped him giving his books away too!

And what a great idea of Hugh's about the staffing problem. Hope it all works out.

Pat, this is fabulous as ever. Eagerly looking forward to the next bit.

#34: Author: MaryR, Location: Sale Cheshire

Posted: Sat May 14, 2005 4:36 pm

Dawn wrote:

So good to have this back Pat - and I'm guessing there's going to be lots and lots about Hugh which is great

Agrees wholeheartedly with Dawn. Laughing

Thank you, Pat

#35: Author: Sophoife, Location: down under Down Under

Posted: Sat May 14, 2005 7:47 pm

Aww Patmac! If you're going to write like that I'm gonna keep those bunnies in that forcefield for a long long time! <g>

I got all teary reading Hugh's letter!

Thank you!

#36: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Sat May 14, 2005 9:18 pm

A bit late tonight, I'm afraid.

The rest of term passed quickly. We had the occasional problem. An outbreak of measles – goodness knows where that came from – decimated classes for a while in the lower forms but it was mostly confined to the First and Second forms. From Lower Third up most boys had already had it so it was more a problem for Matron and Mrs Hulton who were at their wits end for a while.

The Junior boys always joined the Senior School for a Carol Concert on the last Sunday of Christmas Term. There was a fair bit of coming and going between the two houses, as we provided the Soprano voices for the choir. It was not helped by the wet weather and dark evenings. Most of the rehearsals were held on Saturdays and the boys walked across but we provided three soprano soloists, Hanson, Canning and Entwistle. Privately, I doubted that Entwistle’s voice would last till Christmas. He had the occasional break that I remembered from my own adolescence.

These three needed to go across some evenings for practice and I tended to get escort duty as a lot of the staff were a bit apprehensive about driving at night. The blackout was a real nuisance, not because of a lack of street lights, we’re too far out for those anyway, but because the dratted slits on the headlamps meant you could only see a short distance ahead. Really, the night time speed limit of 20 miles per hour was quite unbreakable round here on the lanes.

One good thing about these visits to the Senior School was that I got to know some of my colleagues up there. I had been surprised when I first arrived at how little contact there was between the two houses. It transpired that this was not because of any ill feeling but just a product of the low staffing levels caused by the war. No one had any time for the luxury of staff meetings or social get togethers.

Miss Hatcherd and I developed a pattern of writing to one another every week. I did realise that I was possibly heading for a disappointment when the war ended and servicemen were demobbed. Would she really settle for a disfigured, limping cripple once there was a choice? I shoved the misgivings to the back of my mind. “Carpe Diem” as someone once said. I’ve come this far, who knows what lies ahead. I am alive.

Towards the end of term, two men arrived from East Grinstead for interviews. One, Howard Chambers, had a good degree from Oxford and had gone on to do some research in Physics. The other, Jack Parsons, was about my age. He had gone straight from University into the Air force. John asked me to pick them up from the station as he thought seeing me would help them.

“You’re a living testament to Mrs Newby’s cooking and good Yorkshire air.” he said. “You look so much better than when you arrived. If they see how it has suited you, it might encourage them.”

I laughed and accused him of showing me off like a prize pig but when I met them off the train, I realised he was right. They were both very thin, their clothes hanging off them and looking quite apprehensive and tense. The younger of the two, Jack Parsons, had lost an arm as well as being badly burned. We met Mrs Thompson the baker’s wife as we left the station and, when she didn’t look at all shocked at their appearance but took it in her stride, I thought some of their worries eased.

I answered their questions about the school as we drove and I delivered Howard Chambers to the Senior School and then returned down to Chaucer House with Jack Parsons and took him into John’s study. When I took them back to the station the next day, Jack told me that he would be joining us in January but Howard was a bit more cagey and hadn’t made a decision. He was older than us, in his thirties I guessed and finding it more difficult to cope.

As I drove back to the school, I pondered over how far I had come in four short months. I realised now that I must have looked just as frail that day in August when I first came to Polgarth.

As well as the Carol Service the staff usually put on a pantomime, followed, after a late supper, by an informal sing song and I was regaled with tales of previous performances. It did sound great fun. The staff really let their hair down for the evening and competed vigorously to be outrageous. John was rather disappointed that we could not manage one this year.

“The boys enjoy it so much and it would be good to end this term on a high note rather than just letting it fizzle out with memories of all the difficulties we’ve had.” He said, wistfully. “It’s too late now though to plan and rehearse anything and we just haven’t had time what with one thing and another.”

We were all quick to reassure him that he had done all he could this term. He was looking tired and in need of a holiday. Henry Reed was now helping out with Latin to free John for the backlog of admin and ‘Heading’, as Copley so eloquently expressed it but we all knew it was a stop gap measure and we were all getting concerned about how we would manage the next term, even with Jack Parsons joining us.

“Listening to you all talking about the end of term pantomime, something struck me.” I said to Charles one morning when we were on break duty and keeping an eye on the boys out on the front lawn.

“What?”

“The things that seemed the funniest were the ones that went wrong.”

“The boys always seemed to think so too. Was that an idle comment or were you going somewhere with that thought?”

“I just wondered if we could put together some short sketches. We needn’t be too bothered about learning proper lines. After all, if we couldn’t ad lib we’d not last long in a classroom. It would be better than nothing.”

“We couldn’t find time for rehearsals, it’s next week you know.”

“We just do things in small groups – pairs, even. Some of the classic pantomime scenes like the ugly sisters. So long as we agree a linking line at the end of each sketch we could go where we liked with the story!”

“You might have an idea. The boys don’t really care about the quality of the acting, they just enjoy a legitimate laugh at our expense. Leave it with me. I’ll sound out a few people first. I don’t want to add to pressure if they really feel they can’t cope with it. If we do manage it, you’ve got your role already lined up!”

I looked at him bemused. “What is that?”

“Captain Hook. You’ve already got part of your costume.”

I laughed. “So I have. All I need is a crocodile to fight.”

Just then a fierce argument broke out over a game of marbles and Charles, with a friendly grin, strode over to sort out the combatants.

#37: Author: Sophoife, Location: down under Down Under

Posted: Sat May 14, 2005 9:29 pm

Late to you is great to me!

That was gorgeous - and I loved the Captain Hook bit!

ETA: And it looks like I'm spreeing - honest, that wasn't my intention!!

#38: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Sat May 14, 2005 9:51 pm

That was great Pat - so nice that Hugh can see just how much he has changed in the one term.

Thank you.

#39: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Sun May 15, 2005 12:05 pm

Don't know whether to laugh or cry, Pat. Thank you.

#40: Author: MaryR, Location: Sale Cheshire

Posted: Sun May 15, 2005 1:24 pm

I'm glad Hugh has decided to go with the flow and not worry about the future where his little *romane* is concerned. Why would someone want somebody else when he is so *huggable*? Wink

And the Captain Hook dig is wonderful!

Thanks, Pat

#41: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Sun May 15, 2005 2:50 pm

lovely - thanks Pat

Liz

#42: Author: Emily, Location: Land of White Coats and Stethoscopes.

Posted: Sun May 15, 2005 4:22 pm

Am positively skipping with delight to see this back again so soon! Wonderful as ever Pat, thank you Very Happy

#43: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Sun May 15, 2005 4:58 pm

Thank you everyone.

The last week of term arrived and lessons became more relaxed as the boys’ excitement at the approach of Christmas increased. We held quizzes and spot tests and generally eased off.

Christmas Day was on a Saturday that year and the boys were to travel home on the previous Tuesday, not returning till the 10th of January, giving virtually a three week break. Charles and Paul cut a big fir tree and somehow heaved it into the old ballroom we used as a hall. The younger boys had made paper chains and there was a carefully stored box of tree decorations from before the war. It looked quite festive.

My idea of a series of sketches had been taken up with enthusiasm and we had put together – well, I’m not quite sure what to call it. It certainly wasn’t a pantomime or a play but our little skits were hung together with a rather loosely interpreted version of Aladdin with a bit of Cinderella and Peter Pan thrown in for good measure.

The only person who opted out was Mr Cockcroft. Most people shrugged when he declined to take part, though there were a few tetchy comments about his attitude in general and I could see that even John was losing patience with his attitude.

All the school staff joined us. The gardeners, the handyman, Mr Newby who managed the school farm and Mrs Newby with all the maids were gathered to see the fun.

There was a little room off the end of the Hall that we could use as a dressing room. I suppose it was somewhere for the ladies to retire to in the days when the Hall was used as a ballroom. We put screens across to hide the door and made our entrances from behind them.

Charles and Paul did a knockabout routine as a pair of ugly sisters. George, with the aid of some pillows for stuffing and an outlandish costume made of old curtains, topped off with an enormous turban, was the Genie. Miss Hulton, in her gardening breeches and a very frilly blouse, with her hair tied up under a cap was Aladdin or the Prince depending on which scene she was in, while John hammed it up as Cinderella, clad in an old dress which had been found in one of the cupboards of the house when the school took it over and treasured for such occasions. The effect of his hiking boots poking out from under the dress brought the house down.

Matron and I were the last act. She had dyed some sheets green, (even she admitted they were past all redemption) and with the aid of some cardboard which she painted green to make a head, turned herself into a crocodile, with a large alarm clock hung round her neck to complete the ensemble. We performed a sketch where I was Captain Hook, complete with eye patch, clad in a long black coat, borrowed from John and a most elegant hat made of newspaper and painted black, with an enormous feather duster pinned on. With my trusty cardboard cutlass, I eventually slew the crocodile, who died most enthusiastically and then revived to berate me for the untidy state of my drawers.

The boys were laughing so much by this time, that some of them were leaning against one another for support. Those who could still manage it stood and shouted for us to return for an encore. We looked at one another in consternation as we had certainly not planned anything for this eventuality.

Instead, we all trooped onto the platform with Matron centre front and took our bows.

Then everyone trooped along to the refectory where there was milk and lemonade with cakes and biscuits for the boys, while the adults recovered with a cup of tea.

When everyone had finished, we returned to the Hall for a sing song. We sang all the old favourites and, when the younger boys became drowsy, they were taken off to bed while the singing continued well after normal bedtime.

Once the last boy was in bed, we retired to the Staff Room for a glass of whisky before seeking our own beds. John stood and raised his glass.

“Thank you everyone. It’s been a hard term but we came through. Perhaps this time next year we will be drinking to peace.”

We all raised our glasses and drank. That was a hope we could all drink to.

#44: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Sun May 15, 2005 7:11 pm

Lovely Pat, a wonderful end to the term - can see old misery Cockcroft being given the elbow - he'll not be missed. Shocked

#45: Author: Carolyn P, Location: Lancaster, England

Posted: Sun May 15, 2005 8:38 pm

That is great Pat, a wonderful end of term scene.

#46: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Sun May 15, 2005 9:40 pm

Thanks Pat - what a lovely end of term

Liz

#47: Author: Susan, Location: Carlisle

Posted: Sun May 15, 2005 9:57 pm

Thanks Pat some lovely scenes there. Hugh is so nice with Dorothy - hoe there is a future in their romance. And he is superb at the school a brilliant teacher and wonderful ideas for the library.

#48: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 12:23 am

Oh how lovely!

Thanks Pat. Do we get to see what Hugh gets up to in the holidays now then? Very Happy

#49: Author: Kathy_S, Location: midwestern US

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 12:44 am

Amazing progress for Hugh! He may be noticing primarily the physical improvement compared to the newcomers, but what seems more impressive is his improved morale. Somehow taking initiative on staffing issues and the Christmas doings feel like bigger steps than the less interactive projects of the library and auto maintenance.

Did I ever say I was glad Reg got to keep his presents? Very Happy

I loved the dramatics -- especially the crocodile. Laughing

#50: Author: Emma A, Location: The Soke of Peterborough

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 7:36 am

Pat, I've just caught up on this and the whole of Part 5 - and I have to say, wow! I'm so impressed by the wonderful story and the frequency of posting is amazing. I really loved Reg's first term at school, and now hope we see a lot of him even though this new part is told from Hugh's point of view - and Hugh is lovely. Agree with Kathy about his mental progress which he hasn't noticed (and loved the bit about the crocodile berating him for untidiness).

Very satisfying. Thank-you.

#51: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 10:53 am

Wonderful! Thank you Pat!

#52: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 4:10 pm

This post was written a long while ago and I'm amazed how many of us have picked up the theme of equality and discrimination - though somewhat saddened that we still feel the need to.

The next morning, after a late start, the boys all seemed content to read or talk quietly. Some of the smaller ones were tired after the late night and lunch was to be early so that we could all be ready in good time for the walk across to Polgarth House for the Carol concert. I drove our three soloists over later in the morning for a last rehearsal and they were staying there for lunch.

After we had eaten, the boys all lined up at the front of the house and set off along the well worn footpath which leads up the hill, while I drove a car full of the youngest ones up. It was cold and the overnight frost lingered in the hollows so they kept a brisk pace and arrived in good time, with a healthy glow. The boys deposited their coats and hats in a cloakroom and filed into the chapel where pews had been reserved for them at the front, except for our choir members who were whisked away to don their robes. John had gone to join the Senior Masters and the rest of us sat among the boys as a deterrent to any unseemly behaviour.

Apart from poor old Godwin’s Memorial Service, it was the first time I had been in the chapel and on that occasion, I had not really taken note of my surroundings, apart from surprise at the size. It seemed too big for a Chapel, being the size of a Parish Church. Even with the two hundred boys from the Senior School and our ninety odd, there was plenty of space. Quite a few people had come from the village and surrounding farms to join us and there was plenty of room for all.

The organ was playing softly and even the more unruly boys seemed awed by the atmosphere. I looked up at the lofty ceiling, and noticed the intricate painting. The whole interior was ornate, with Gothic arches, a magnificent stained glass East window and one of the most ornately carved altar canopies I had ever seen. It looked more like a Roman Catholic Church than a School Chapel.

The organ stopped playing and then a clear Soprano voice came from the back of the Chapel.

“Once in royal David's city
Stood a lowly cattle shed,
Where a mother laid her baby
In a manger for his bed:
Mary was that mother mild,
Jesus Christ her little child.”

The whole choir took up the next verse, accompanied softly by the organ and we all stood as the thirty choir boys came down the aisle, led by Mr Wilson, the School Chaplain.

I am not normally sentimental and wasn’t, at that time, at all sure that I had any of my childhood faith left but the sincerity which showed on the faces of the choirboys brought a lump to my throat and I had to clear it in order to join in the last two verses as the choir took their places.

We remained standing for the bidding prayer by Mr Wilson.

“Belovèd in Christ, be it this Christmas our care and delight to prepare ourselves to hear again the message of the angels: in heart and mind to go even unto Bethlehem and see this thing which is come to pass, and with the shepherds and the wise men adore the Child lying in his Mother's arms.

But first let us pray for the needs of his whole world; for peace and goodwill over all the earth; within the dominions of our sovereign Lord, King George within this School, and in the wider community in which we live.

Let us also remember those who are, even at this moment, parted from loved ones by the horrors of war. Let us pray for them, whatever their nationality or creed. Let us also pray that, when peace comes, it will be a just peace and that mankind will learn to shun evil and follow the path of Thy Light, that we may live in brotherhood with all nations.

And let us at this time remember in his name the poor and the helpless, the cold, the hungry and the oppressed; the sick in body and in mind and them that mourn; the lonely and the unloved; the aged and the little children; and all who know not the loving kindness of the Lord.

These prayers and praises let us humbly offer up to the throne of heaven, in the words which Christ himself hath taught us: Our Father...”

The service followed familiar lines, though we only had five short readings and rather more singing than would have been normal for an adult service.

Between each lesson there were two carols, one sung by the choir or a soloist and one which the congregation joined in. Seeing Hanson step forward to sing ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’ backed only by a subdued harmony hummed by the choir, I could not reconcile this angelic looking lad with the one who had, only the previous week been rescued, dripping, from the ditch on the other side of the boundary wall, having fallen off while attempting to play his own brand of hopscotch on the top. Then, as his pure voice rose, all memory of his misdeeds fled in the beauty of his voice.

Entwistle sang ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ and Canning, looking rather nervous ‘I Saw Three Ships’. The Lessons were read by Prefects from the Senior School.

After we had all joined in ‘Hark The Herald Angels Sing’, Doctor Cartwright stepped forward, looking imposing in his gown and ascended the pulpit.

"And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three, but the greatest of these is charity."
[St Paul; Corinthians xiii]

“That may not be a verse you normally hear at Christmas, although some, having heard it now, will expect me to be reminding you of the need for faith. Yes, that is important, but you have heard that message repeated again and again during this service.

Others will expect a message of hope during a time of world wide strife and personal loss for many. That is also important, but I want to remind you of the most important of the three, charity.

The word ‘charity’ comes from the Latin word ‘caritas’, which in turn comes from the adjective ‘carus’, meaning ‘dear’. The early Christians used it to mean ‘love of one's fellow human beings’. Most people use it now to mean giving help or money to those in need, which is really only a part of it.

Love is not a word we use easily. We think it sentimental and sloppy. That is because we use the word rather loosely. The Greeks express it much better with three different words and the one we need here is ‘agape’.

The real meaning of agape is regard and respect. If we regard a person with agape, it means that nothing that he can do will make us seek anything but his highest good. That quite clearly means that this kind of love is not an emotional thing. It means caring about everyone, even if you don’t particularly like them; even if they are different. After all, we are all different from one another. Some of you have dark hair, some red, some fair. Some of us don’t even have hair at all!”

He ran his hand over his bald pate as he spoke, evoking a general laugh.

“Some of us are good at sports, some not. Some are good at Maths and some not. Although we all speak English here, some of us have different accents. I come from the South of England and I walk up the ‘parth’ and have a ‘barth’. Some of you walk up the ‘path’ and have a ‘bath’.

Because I have no hair, can do Maths but have never been good at sports, and have a daily ‘barth’. I am different in one way or another from every one of you. Unless of course we have any other bald, Maths loving, non sports players from the South of England in the Chapel! That doesn’t mean I am better or worse than anyone here. I am still a human being.

The same applies to all the people of the world. Sooner or later you will hear people tell you that some people are not equal to you. They are somehow inferior because they are not British or are poor or have something physically wrong with them or are not as clever as you and so you do not need to respect them or care about them.

This war, which seems to be going on for so long is being fought because some men decided that they are ‘superior’ to other people and that because those other people are ‘inferior’, they do not deserve to have the same rights.

This is not a war between the British and their allies and the Germans and their allies. It is between those who believe all men are equal and those who believe they are somehow better than others and so have the right to enslave people they see as inferior.

We should not blame the Germans as a nation for what is being done in their name. Some British people, though they may be keeping quiet at the moment, have sympathy with the Nazi ideals. They believe that the white race (whatever that means) is somehow superior to all others.

Many Germans have suffered or even died for standing up to their leaders. Many of those who have not objected to what has been done in their names do not agree with their leaders but either do not have the courage to stand and be counted or are protecting their loved ones. I would not presume to judge them. I have not stood in their shoes.

To look down on anyone because they are ‘different’ is a step on the road to what we call Nazism. To do them harm, by word or deed, is yet another step. We have all seen where this can lead.

I am telling you today that this attitude is not in keeping with the spirit of Christmas. Christ did not come for any one section of humanity. He came for us all. Part of our following of His teachings must be to have agape – respect and unconditional regard for all people.”

As he left the Pulpit, and returned to his seat, three boys came forward and sang.

Frohlocket, ihr Völker auf Erden,
und preiset Gott!
Der Heiland ist erschienen,
den der Herr verheißen.
Er hat seine Gerechtigkeit
der Welt offenbaret.
Halleluja! Halleluja!

( Rejoice, O ye peoples of the earth,
and praise the Lord
The Saviour has come,
he whom the Lord hath promised.
He hath made manifest
his justice to the world.
Halleluja! Halleluja! )

I couldn’t help thinking that it was justice that the only three sopranos capable of harmonising in this beautiful hymn were Entwistle, Hanson and Canning.

#53: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 4:53 pm

A beautiful service and sermon

Thanks Pat

Liz

#54: Author: Emma A, Location: The Soke of Peterborough

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 5:29 pm

That was so beautiful, Pat - tears in my eyes. Thank-you.

#55: Author: Beth, Location: Back in Durham...nearly finished a whole year!!

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 5:31 pm

Oh - reading that has made me go all tingly! The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up...thank-you, patmac!

#56: Author: MaryR, Location: Sale Cheshire

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 5:43 pm

Wonderful, Pat, and how good to see the word "agape" explained here. I'd forgotten all about its meanings. It fits in beautifully.

Thank you. Feeling a bit *teary*

#57: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 6:57 pm

Beautiful sermon Pat, and a message that needs to keep being repeated.

Thank you.

#58: A Village Boy Part 6 Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 7:01 pm

A beautiful service and sermon, Pat - quite gave me goosebumps. I love the way the sermon made its points so calmly, yet so relevantly.

The force of your comment at the beginning was brought home even more strongly with that hymn being sung in German as well as English - I know this often happens, (Stille Nacht and others) but this was during the War... The fact that it could happen here speaks so well for the school's philosophy - and the content of that sermon.

I also loved the fact that only those 3 boys were capable of singing the harmonies. I assume that hymn has a real tune? I'm not familiar with the words, but if any musically minded CBB-er could PM me with a way of accessing the tune, I'd know if I actually know it.

Also agree with someone who said 3 or 4 posts ago how good it was to see the physical and psychological improvement in Hugh over the course of the term.

#59: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 7:08 pm

Tear-jerking, Pat, thank you.

#60: Re: A Village Boy Part 6 Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 8:09 pm

Elder in Ontario wrote:

I also loved the fact that only those 3 boys were capable of singing the harmonies. I assume that hymn has a real tune? I'm not familiar with the words, but if any musically minded CBB-er could PM me with a way of accessing the tune, I'd know if I actually know it.

It's by Mendelssohn and appears on quite a few CDs of Sacred music. I don't know a free source, I'm afraid.

#61: Re: A Village Boy Part 6 Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 11:03 pm

Patmac wrote:

It's by Mendelssohn and appears on quite a few CDs of Sacred music. I don't know a free source, I'm afraid.

Thanks, Patmac - I'll try to find it.

#62: Author: Susan, Location: Carlisle

Posted: Mon May 16, 2005 11:09 pm

Thank you Pat a very beautiful service for Christmas!

#63: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Tue May 17, 2005 8:46 am

Thank you Pat. Beautiful and vry apt for that Christmas.

#64: Author: Dawn, Location: Leeds, West Yorks

Posted: Tue May 17, 2005 3:51 pm

That was awesome Pat - thankyou from a rather wet eyed dawn

#65: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Tue May 17, 2005 5:46 pm

We finished with the usual blessing and sang ‘Come all Ye Faithful'.
The organist, with obvious relish started to show what he could really achieve and Bach’s ‘In Dulce Jubilo’ rang through the Chapel as Mr Wilson led the choir followed by the two Heads and then Heads of Departments up the aisle.

The boys followed, two by two, and crossed quickly to the school where they were ushered into the Refectory where extra tables had been set up for the Junior School and the visitors. When we had all the boys seated, we found places where we could and I found myself sitting between Mr Thompson and Tom Hopkins from the Garage.

“Where is Mrs Thompson?” I asked, looking round.

“She’s helping in the kitchen.” He replied, proudly. “She does every year. We bake the cakes as well. We’ve been up since three this morning. Worth it though! Ah, but you should have seen it before the war. A lot of the parents came and the chapel was full to overflowing. Them were the days.”

“I liked what Dr Cartwright said. I’d never really thought of Nazism coming out of little steps, but he’s right. You know, before he was head, we’d never have been sitting here with the teachers. We knew our place and we weren’t invited to anything. Now everyone is polite and even the boys call me Mr Thompson and thank me when they come in the shop. Perhaps it works both ways and things like being polite to people who aren’t in your class is a little step towards fighting those Fascists.”

He flushed, embarrassed that he had made such a long speech.

“I’m sure you are right. I hope after this is over, we’ll be able to get rid of a lot of that class nonsense. If we can make a change with this generation of boys, we might stand a chance.” I responded as I reached for a sandwich. “Do you know the history of the chapel? It’s very big for a school chapel. I suppose it belonged to the previous owners.”

“That’s right. They were Roman Catholics and had some architect from London up to design it, way back. All the Catholics for miles here used it as a church My Granddad told me about it so it were somewhere early in Victorian times.”

“He were someone called ‘Puji’ something. He worked on the Houses of Parliament as well as I hear tell.” Added Tom.

“Puget?” I asked, in surprise.

“That’s right. He did one down in Keighley as well. I might have known you would know the name.” Said Tom, with his gap toothed grin.

“Only because he built one in Southwark that I visited once. Mind you, I don’t know if that survived the blitz. It could well be gone now.”

“The local Catholics have a little church in the village now. Not a patch on this, of course. A Priest comes once a week for their service.”

The talk turned to more general matters, but my curiosity was piqued about the previous owners.

When we had finished tea, I collected Entwistle, Canning and Hanson and a couple of the smallest boys and we set off back to Chaucer house. The rest walked down and we were all safely back before dark. A lot of the boys were tired having stayed up late the night before and were packed off to bed early.

The older boys spent the evening in their common room and, once they were in bed, we gathered in the Staff Room for a last drink before end of term. The next evening most people would be packing for the holidays. I think we all came down with a bump from the Service. I suppose it was just tiredness but suddenly, I just wanted to be alone.

I said goodnight and went to my room where I sat for a while just looking out of the window at the shadows. The moon had not yet risen but the stars had that crisp look which showed there was frost about. I wasn’t consciously thinking of anything in particular but my mind wandered over the events of the past few years. I had lost so much. My mother, my home, my ambitions. I’d never cared that much about my looks till I crashed. So long as I was clean and tidy that was all that mattered. I faced again the fact that there was probably not much more even McIndoe could do to improve my scarring. That would be with me for life.

I thought of what Dr Cartwright had said in his sermon. ‘This is not a war between the British and their allies and the Germans and their allies. It is between those who believe all men are equal and those who believe they are somehow better than others.’

Was it really worth the pain and the loss? I thought of the three boys who had sung so sincerely this afternoon. Entwistle from a poor background who wanted to be a doctor; Hanson who had proved himself his father’s son by standing up to a bully; Canning who managed a cheerful face, despite a crippling illness.

Yes. It was worth it. They were worth it.

I undressed slowly in the dark so that I didn’t have to close the blackout and lay in bed looking out at the stars. I’d come through. I had found a purpose in life. I still regretted the loss of what might have been but it was still worth it.
As I slowly slipped into sleep, I thought of Dorothy (for I no longer thought of her as Miss Hatcherd) and I had hope for the future.

#66: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Tue May 17, 2005 8:17 pm

Luffly - thanks Pat

I'm so glad Hugh has some hope

Liz

#67: A VIllage Boy Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Tue May 17, 2005 8:20 pm

I just found today's instalment, Patmac - there is so much in it which is interesting.

Mr. Thompson's comments on the changes in the class system are very telling, clearly the vicar's sermon made a great impression on him.

Hugh's reflections on the three boys, and on the changes in his own attitudes which his injuries, and the influence of his successful first term in the school have wrought confirm he is an intelligent man who can now believe in a future, even though he might not have done when he first came to the school from East Grinstead.

Between the philosphy and the Carol service, what a beautiful end to the term. Thank you for all of this.

Looking forward to more - naturally.

#68: Author: Nina, Location: Peterborough, UK

Posted: Tue May 17, 2005 9:00 pm

*big contentend sigh* Smile

and a few

Hugh

and Reg

are so lovely, it's fascinating seeing them develop as they get used to the school.

#69: Author: Mia, Location: London

Posted: Tue May 17, 2005 9:25 pm

I totally agree with Nina, Hugh is lovely!

*Hopes he gets together with Dorothy* Very Happy

Thanks Pat - and the sermon was beautiful too

#70: Author: Sugarplum, Location: second star to the right!

Posted: Wed May 18, 2005 12:03 am

Wow Pat ...just caught up on most of this. The Xmas Service was lovely.

#71: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Wed May 18, 2005 12:06 am

The service was beautiful, and I loved Hugh's reflection int he last line of that post.

And the second post is just wonderful It's amazing how much his mindset has changed since we first saw him going to the interview with John.

Thanks Pat. Kiss

#72: Author: Kathy_S, Location: midwestern US

Posted: Wed May 18, 2005 3:53 am

Beautiful posts, Pat!

You can hear a a somewhat jerky midi of a tune for Frohlocket, ihr Völker auf Erden at http://www.choirmidi.nl/mids/frohlock.mid. Is this the right one? I can't quite match words to tune, but may be trying to start in the wrong place....

#73: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Wed May 18, 2005 8:41 am

Beautiful, thank you Pat. Glad Hugh has found hope and liked the talk at supper.

#74: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Wed May 18, 2005 8:07 pm

Clever use of the emoticons, Nina Laughing

Kathy. It's usually sung as in parts - almost a round so I couldn't really relate to the file. Will hunt through my CDs and see if I have it anywhere. some day, I'll catalogue them. Wink

Next instalment coming up.

The next morning, the boys went to their form rooms and we gave out the final marks for the term. There were no surprises in Lower Third which was my own form, except that young Canning had moved several places up the form after a rather shaky start earlier in the term. It brought home to me just how much a bully like Molyneux could affect a child.

As they left for morning break, he stayed behind to speak to me.

“I wanted to say Happy Christmas and thank you for what you said that day.”

“Happy Christmas to you, Canning. As for what I said, it was true and I’m pleased if it helped.”

A head popped round the door and Davis’s shrill voice called “Come ON Canning. I want my milk!”

Seeing me, he looked dismayed but I just grinned and Canning, his momentary seriousness forgotten, grinned back and went off with his friend.
After lunch, the boys packed ready to go home on the Tuesday and then, as it was fine, we let them run riot in the grounds. They were all going on early trains and would need to be up and ready to go by eight o’clock, but there wasn’t much point in trying to send them to bed early. They were so excited that we had some difficulties getting them off to sleep but, eventually, they were all settled and the staff got round to packing.

John and I were the only ones staying at school, both being devoid of relatives and would have to manage for ourselves during the holiday as all the household staff were given the school holiday as well.

The coaches arrived and the boys trooped onto them, their cases going into the storage compartment. Each coach was accompanied by staff who looked only slightly less excited than their charges. They all looked so bright and happy as children should when going home. John and I stood and waved and watched till the coaches were out of sight and then turned and went back into the big, empty house.

We slipped into a routine over the next three days. We got our own breakfasts though in fact they coincided, neither of us being late risers, and then I went for a walk while John had a much more energetic hike. After a late lunch, which was a rather scratch affair, we went to John’s study and I helped him plough through the paperwork. He had been doubtful about that as I was officially on leave, but I insisted and we got through a lot more with two of us, once I got the hang of what he wanted. I pecked out letters on the old typewriter and caught up on the filing while John struggled with the accounts. Mrs Newby had left us a large meat pie which did us for the three days and we just prepared some vegetables while large slices reheated in the oven for a late supper.

The evenings we spent toasting our toes at a log fire in the staff room and reading before a reasonably early night. John was good company. He needed this few days of space as much as I did and, apart from the occasional comment, we spent much of the evenings in silence.

Christmas Day, we drove down to the village for the early service and then went back to the school for a light breakfast. We were invited to the farm for Christmas Lunch and John warned me that the meal was likely to be of gargantuan proportions so we each just had a cup of coffee and a slice of toast.

We strolled across with a bottle of whisky from John’s never ending store and two bottles of wine. It was a clear crisp day, and although we had not seen any snow yet this low in the valley, the tops of the moors were gleaming white in the sun. It was not far but we were glad to get into the warmth of the big farm kitchen, for we had dressed in our suits with overcoats to honour the day and were not wearing the big pullovers we normally wore when outside.

I looked round with interest, not having visited the house before. An enormous range dominated the end of the room, laden with steaming pans and putting out a scorching heat. A large table stood in the middle of the stone flagged floor, laid for ten people and with an assortment of chairs surrounding it. At the head was an enormous chair, which I guessed was Mr Newby’s as it was the only one in the room which would comfortably fit his frame.

A dresser stood along one side which must surely have been built in the room for it could never have been brought in through the door. The wood shone with generations of polish and the base was laden with cakes and pies. I had not seen such a feast for years. I realised that the top of the dresser, where the crockery would be displayed was empty and then saw that the table, spread with a snowy cloth, was laid with blue and white willow pattern plates and I guessed that these were normally displayed on the dresser.

Two oil lamps were set on the table and I suddenly realised that the farm had no electricity. Rag rugs were laid on the stone floor and I remembered my mother making one for our kitchen at home.

As I looked round the room, more people arrived. I was pleased to see Mr and Mrs Thompson and close behind them came Tom who had brought two elderly ladies I had not met before. Mr Newby introduced them as Miss Gregory and Miss Snaith. By now, Mrs Newby was ladling vegetables into tureens and setting them to keep warm on the hearth.

We all took our places and I saw that one was empty. Mr Newby saw my glance and looked a little sheepish.

“’tis an old tradition.” He said. “We always set an extra place at Christmas. My Dad always did it and my Granddad before him. My Grandma told me it was for the Christ Child. If a stranger comes to the door, she told me, it might be Christ. It wouldn’t seem like Christmas without.”

“I think it’s a lovely tradition.” I replied.

#75: Author: Sugarplum, Location: second star to the right!

Posted: Wed May 18, 2005 8:50 pm

That was a lovely post a real feel of an old xmas about it!

#76: Author: Carolyn P, Location: Lancaster, England

Posted: Wed May 18, 2005 9:02 pm

That was lovely Pat. Thank you. Smile

#77: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 8:39 am

Beautiful and very evocative - I can just see the kitchen.

Thank you Pat.

#78: Author: keren as guest,

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 9:27 am

As I opened this I thought, "oh good, I like how patmac writes, lets see what happens"
Please keep going.

#79: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 10:40 am

Why am I crying so much over this? It's so moving, that's why.

#80: Author: Joey, Location: Cambridge

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 11:42 am

Patmac, the only Christmas scene I can compare this with is the one in Jo of. Although this is completely different, it's also very moving and conveys what Christmas is really about.

Would you mind if I print this and the last few out and keep them with the rest of my special Christmas reads?

Thank you so much, Pat. I know I don't comment regularly - it's lack of time, not lack of appreciation!

#81: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 12:48 pm

Thanks Pat - these Christmas scenes are all so beautiful. It's a shock after reading them to look outside and see leaves on the trees - you make me forget it's May and summer is approaching.

Liz

#82: Author: MaryR, Location: Sale Cheshire

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 3:18 pm

I have just caught up on all the Christmas scenes, Pat, and had a wonderful read, very evocative, bringing back memories of myu own early Christmases.

Hugh really seems to be sttling down and enjoying what life has to offer.

Thank you.

#83: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 5:37 pm

Thank you for the kind words everyone. I was going to skate over Christmas but the bunny wouldn't let me. Till I started this, I never realised what drabblers meant when they said they couldn't write what they planned. Now I do Confused

Mrs Newby was taking something out of the oven. It was not the meat I had expected but a huge tin of Yorkshire pudding. She brought it to the table with an enormous jug of gravy and served it into dishes, which were passed round. I was a bit taken aback but managed to hide it as I saw everyone else seemed to take it for granted.

Mr Newby asked John to say Grace and then we all tucked in. When the dishes were removed and cleared, Mrs Newby brought the tureens of vegetables over to the table and then a large joint of beef was placed before Mr Newby who proceeded to carve with great skill while John poured everyone a glass of wine from the bottles we had brought over with us.

There were brussel sprouts, carrots, cabbage, roast potatoes, roast parsnips, mashed potatoes, horseradish sauce and gravy to complete the meal. I could hardly believe my eyes. I realised that everything, except the wine, had been produced here on this farm. For a city boy this was heaven. Everything tasted fresh and was all the better for being eaten in good company.

The Thompsons were now good friends and I often popped in to the shop for a cup of tea when I was down in the village. Tom and I shared a love of car engines and I had come to respect his knowledge and savour his dry humour.

I had not, however, got to know the Mr and Mrs Newby very well. Mrs Newby, while always good for a quick cup of tea, often accompanied by a slice of cake, was always busy in term time and not given to chatter. I think I had taken for granted the fact that three meals a day appeared from her kitchen, but now I came to think about it, she only had three girls working with her and she was always there for breakfast at eight in the morning and still serving supper at seven in the evening. She must have been on her feet for at least twelve hours a day!

Mr Newby, I knew even less well. After my first disastrous foray into gardening when I mistakenly hoed out a row of carrots, thinking they were weeds, it was thought better to keep me away from the livestock for fear of worse disaster. I was fairly relieved at this. I had no experience with animals, apart from feeding the coalman’s horse a crust of bread each week when I was little – and even then, I used to snatch my hand away for fear it would disappear with the crust. The very idea of standing in front of an advancing cow and shooing it in the direction of a field gate was akin to facing a charging elephant in my mind. The first time I saw young Entwistle do it, I nearly shouted at him to run!

George Newby turned out to be a man of few words, thinking before he spoke and content to listen most of the time but what he had to say was always to the point and down to earth.

The Misses Gregory and Snaith were the biggest surprise of all. I guessed they were in their late sixties, typical English spinsters wearing twin sets and tweed skirts with thick ribbed stockings and brogues. Miss Gregory looked quite fragile and was tiny with wavy white hair and wearing a single string of pearls and an assortment of rings on her thin fingers. Miss Snaith was taller with iron grey hair, pulled back severely and was almost gaunt with a strong chin, her only ornament being a large cameo brooch. I thought they would be very parochial with no interests beyond the local community.

I was hopelessly wrong. It turned out that they had travelled widely across Europe and Northern Africa in pre-war days and had a better idea of the current war situation than most civilians.

“You see,” explained Miss Gregory, “We’ve kept all the maps of Europe from our travels and we mark places on them as they come up in the news. Most of the places we’ve visited at some time or another. I do hope the war is finished before we get too old to travel again.”

Once we could eat no more, Mrs Newby cleared away the remains and then went once more to the range and, took a large bowl wrapped in cloth out of a saucepan. With great ceremony, she turned out an enormous Christmas Pudding. She put it on a dish and brought it to the table with a jug of cream and looked at it.

“I’m sorry it’s a small one this year.” She said, sadly. “We just didn’t have enough fruit for a bigger one.”

I thought for a moment that she was joking but the sympathetic comments which were made convinced me that she was absolutely serious. I wasn’t at all sure I could eat another mouthful but one taste convinced me I was wrong. I would never be too full to manage such a delicious pudding.

After we had finished, Mrs Newby made a pot of tea and we sat round the table till it was time for the King’s Speech. At around five to three, Mr Newby switched on the wireless and fiddled with the knobs for a minute till he had it tuned properly. John poured the men a glass of whisky, while the ladies had another glass of wine and we all listened intently to the halting voice of King George VI.

When the speech was finished and the National Anthem was played, we all stood. When the last notes died away, Mr Newby raised his glass.

“Happy Christmas everyone, God Bless the King and Peace to all men.” We all responded and sat down again round the table to savour the whisky.

“Do you think it will be over by next Christmas?” Mr Newby asked me the inevitable question.

“I doubt it. It would have to be summer before we could really get back onto the continent and it’s going to be a slow task to get across to Germany, fighting every inch of the way.”

“It’s over 500 miles to Berlin if we go through France. That’s the shortest sea crossing which would be important.” Miss Gregory chipped in. “and that’s in a straight line.”

“Won’t the Russians come in from the East?” queried Mr Thompson.

“Yes but that’s twice as far. From Moscow to Berlin is about 1,000 miles.” Miss Gregory was sure of her facts. “We measured it with string and then checked it out by the scale of the map.”

The talk continued but the heat of the kitchen, the good food, wine and the whisky were going to my head. I had a bizarre picture of these two old ladies with maps spread out on the kitchen table, intently moving armies across Europe just as the plotters moved aircraft across the tables on the airfields.

I think I dozed for a little while and came to as the conversation moved, as it did so often in those days, to the plight of people in the towns.

“You come from London, Mr Douglas.” Mrs Newby was saying. “Was the blitz really as bad as they say?”

#84: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 5:46 pm

Some truly lovely posts, Pat, and the wonderful Christmas scenes are made all the more poignant for interspersing information about the War in there.

Thank you.

#85: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 7:37 pm

Quote:

I would never be too full to manage such a delicious pudding.

Amen!

Thanks Pat, they were such wonderful, evocative posts. I feel extremely warm and festive on this miserable May day!

#86: Author: keren, Location: Israel

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 7:42 pm

From reading all this I would be sure that you experienced all you write about.

#87: Author: Sugarplum, Location: second star to the right!

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 8:38 pm

Wow Patmac. Those recent posts are soo evocative Smile

#88: Author: Alex, Location: Hunts, UK

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 8:55 pm

Yesterday evening I read parts 1 and 2. This afternoon I've read parts 3,4,5 and 6. All I can say is WOW Pat (and dammit the worshipping smiley seems to have gone somewhere).

Gregory and Snaith sound like the Stuffer and Maria.

#89: A Village Boy Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 9:50 pm

Some lovely posts, Pat - thank you for creating such a lovely seasonal atmosphere despite the war.

Clearly that's the first time Hugh has come across the traditional practice of serving the Yorkshire Pudding as a separate course - there's at least one Yorkshire hotel which continues the practice to this day.

#90: Author: Vikki, Location: Sitting on an iceberg, freezing to death!!!

Posted: Thu May 19, 2005 10:10 pm

Alex wrote:

Gregory and Snaith sound like the Stuffer and Maria.

I thought that too Alex!!

i'm loving this Pat! Hugh is such a lovely character!!!

#91: Author: Susan, Location: Carlisle

Posted: Fri May 20, 2005 12:18 am

Thank you Pat, a lovely old fashioned family Christmas. Glad Hugh was able to enjoy it.

#92: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Fri May 20, 2005 7:00 am

Thanks Pat

I also thought of the Stuffer and Maria - or Miss Patty and her niece from Anne of the Island.

Liz

#93: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Fri May 20, 2005 8:47 am

Thank you Pat. Lovely!

#94: Author: JenniferG, Location: Durham

Posted: Fri May 20, 2005 9:17 am

Ooh, what a lovely Christmas scene.

I didn't realise serving the Yorkshire puddings separately first was unusual - in my family it's what we've always done.. Smile

#95: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Fri May 20, 2005 3:02 pm

I never thought of Stuffer and Maria - just have known so many feisty similar pairs of ladies that they are familiar to me !

On the Yorkshire pudding front. It's not done down South to my knowledge.

Really popped in to say we're off to see Star Wars tonight.

Mexican Wave

As Alan is picking me up from work, there'll be no post tonight.

Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

#96: Author: Alice, Location: London, England

Posted: Fri May 20, 2005 10:28 pm

There's no more!!!

I've spent the past week reading this from the beginning and I'm enthralled. Thank you Pat, this is wonderful.

#97: Author: Mia, Location: London

Posted: Sat May 21, 2005 7:30 am

*Echoes Alice*
It is wonderful, Pat, thank you x

#98: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Sat May 21, 2005 12:37 pm

This is wonderful Pat.

Is there any other way to serve Yorkshire pudding? We always have it first with lots of gravy. It doesn't taste right any other way.

#99: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Sat May 21, 2005 5:15 pm

Star Wars was GOOD! Very fast moving though and I now need to see it again to get the detail Wink

I was caught off guard. This was something I had never talked to anyone about and, normally I would have said something non-committal but the alcohol and the heat loosened my tongue.

“I wasn’t there. The last time I was home was on leave in the Spring of 1940. My Mum was so proud of me in my uniform. I should have had leave in July but none of us got it. We were too busy. Then when they started bombing London, we carried on flying and that was that. There wasn’t any choice. Lots of us had family there and we could see the docks ablaze from miles away. My Mum wrote every week.”

I had lost all awareness of my surroundings. It all just seemed to spill out, all the grief and the loss.

“Then, one week I didn’t hear. It was the end of the next week when the Squadron Leader called me to his office. It took that long to trace me. A direct hit. They never found her body. I was given leave and I went home.” I laughed, bitterly. “There was no home to go to. Where our house had been was a crater. The whole street was flattened, empty. No one was there. I don’t know how long I walked, looking for someone I knew. They say hundreds died that night. I went back to the base. There was nothing I could do.”

There was silence for a moment, then I came fully awake and realised no one knew what to say.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get maudlin. Generally, yes, it is pretty bad. Whole areas are just rubble, the people moved elsewhere. It’s broken up the little communities. They were like little villages. A corner shop on the end of each street where all the gossip got passed on. Everyone knew one another and looked out for one another. They’ve lost all that.”

Mrs Newby got up to close the curtains even though it was not quite dark, breaking the reflective mood and we were all glad to be stirred into action. It doesn’t do to dwell too much on things like that.

We all helped carry the dishes to the scullery for washing up. The four ladies shooed us out and began the task. Mr Newby went round lighting more lamps and soon there was a cosy glow in the room.

Mr Newby and Mr Thompson were talking about some local affairs, both being churchwardens. John sat and listened, putting in an occasional comment. Tom and I talked about car engines, arguing amiably about torque and ideal gear ratios. Eventually, Mr Newby looked at the clock and stood up.

“Time to milk the cows. They don’t know it’s Christmas.”

“We’ll give you a hand. It’ll be done all the sooner.” Said Tom, and he and Mr Thompson stood to follow Mr Newby out of the kitchen.

To my surprise, they went through a door at the side of the kitchen into a corridor along the front of the house and I could immediately hear and smell the cows.

“I didn’t realise there was a connecting door.” I commented to John.

“Saves going outside in the winter. The cows generate some heat too so farmers leave the doors open at night. It’s a very old design. They call it a Long House.”

We had tea with them, though I could hardly eat anything I was so full, and then the party broke up. Mr and Mrs Thompson would be baking at four o’clock in the morning and, as Mr Newby had remarked, the cows didn’t know it was Christmas. The Misses Gregory and Snaith invited me to take tea with them as soon as we could arrange it. I accepted warmly.

Mrs Newby loaded us with two baskets of food to take back to school and after thanking her profusely, we set off across the fields. The cold air woke me up and I looked appreciatively at the moors, the snow showing white against the sky. The moon was only a thin crescent in the sky but there was enough light to walk along the well trodden path without switching on our torches. We paused for a moment outside the house, taking in the view.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else tonight.” John commented with satisfaction. “We’ve had good food and good company and now we have this peace.”

We turned and went in.

#100: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Sat May 21, 2005 7:34 pm

*So jealous you've seen that film!*

Lovely post Pat - Hugh's description of what happened to communities in the Blitz - so poignant.

(And nice to see another who felt that at Christmas 1943 there was snow! Wink

)

#101: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Sat May 21, 2005 7:46 pm

Lesley wrote:

(And nice to see another who felt that at Christmas 1943 there was snow! Wink

)

Poetic licence, Lesley. Fog is not nearly so much fun!

Anyway *bunnies rule Wink

#102: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Sat May 21, 2005 10:33 pm

Lesley wrote:

Lovely post Pat - Hugh's description of what happened to communities in the Blitz - so poignant.

Certaily was - it brought a ump to my throat.

Wonderfully evocative post, Pat.

And Lesley - isn't there *always* snow at Christmas?! Wink

#103: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Sat May 21, 2005 10:49 pm

Josie wrote:

And Lesley - isn't there *always* snow at Christmas?! Wink

Well I thought so! Laughing

#104: Author: Dawn, Location: Leeds, West Yorks

Posted: Sun May 22, 2005 12:23 am

What a lovely Christmas Pat

them us eats mos puddin gets mos me-ut

But am I the only one who is concerned about where the never ending whisky supply is coming from in wartime Wink

#105: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Sun May 22, 2005 11:26 am

Wonderful, Pat. It brought tears to my eyes, again.

#106: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Sun May 22, 2005 2:12 pm

Thanks Pat - a lovely mixture of sad rememberances, good company and hope for the future

Liz

#107: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Sun May 22, 2005 4:22 pm

On Boxing Day John went off for a long, solitary hike taking a packed lunch with him. I decided to spend the day reading and relaxing. I was rather relieved to have a day to myself. During term there was little opportunity to be truly alone and I sometimes felt hemmed in.

I sat in my room for a while, looking out over the valley. In the distance I saw a farmer climbing the hill, bent under a bale of hay, his dog at his heels. The sheep saw him and came down the field towards him. I watched as he scattered the hay and the sheep encircled him. He stood for a few minutes, watching them and then set off again down the field towards the farm, followed by his dog. I wondered how the sheep managed when the snow came down to the valley.

There was a lot to think about. From the age of eighteen when I left London for college, my whole life had been dictated by events beyond my control. Even coming here had been a passive response to pressure from the hospital. I was committed to seeing the school year out but I knew that, if I stayed longer, I would probably never leave. I would have to take a decision before Easter as, if I was moving on, I would need to give at least a term’s notice.

Then there was the possibility of more surgery. I really did not want to go through that again, but should I? I got up and crossed to the dressing table and for the first time in a long while looked at myself, closely, in the mirror. The scar tissue was not so red and angry now. It looked more like a pale yellow parchment, stretched tightly over the right side of my face and puckered in places. Although the scars didn’t quite reach my mouth, the damage to the muscles pulled it down at that side. My scars stretched a few inches beyond the hairline which gave an even more lopsided look to my face.

I took off the eye patch and looked detachedly at the empty socket. They’d talked of fitting a false eye but I felt it would look worse than the patch. I wondered how much improvement could be made, possibly not enough to go through yet more skin grafts and waste a precious summer.

I replaced the patch and decided this choice could wait. Perhaps unconsciously, I already knew what I would do. I had put my January appointment back to Easter already to fit in with the School Term.

I wandered downstairs to the kitchen, made a cup of tea and took it to the staff room where I had left my book but found that, for once, I was not in the mood for reading, so I just relaxed and watched the fire flickering while my mind wandered.

As they so often did these days, my thoughts went to Dorothy. I was going to Leeds for New Year. Hilary would still be staying with them so I wouldn’t get time alone with Dorothy but it was better than nothing. I’d booked a room at a hotel, not far from the station, for two nights. I wondered what Hilary was like. Dorothy was obviously fond of her so I was quite ready to like her too.

Dorothy. She was not pretty I supposed, at least not in the glamorous sense, but when a smile lit her face she was transformed and she had very expressive eyes. I’d like to see her with her hair loose, I thought. She was warm and friendly. She was clever, too. I liked that. We could talk about anything. We even liked some of the same books.

I hadn’t had a lot to do with girls. I’d been out a couple of times with a girl at University but that had not meant anything. I’d also had the odd fling with a WAAF. Most of us did. When you know you may die tomorrow, you make the most of today. It had been more a clinging together of two human beings in the midst of horror than a true relationship.

Dorothy had said she wanted to live in the dales or up on the moors. I wondered if she would like Polgarth. A couple of the staff were married and lived down in the village, so it was not impossible to make a life here. She wanted to finish her training and teach. Maybe she wouldn’t even want to get married.

My mind went on in the circle it always did when I got to this point. What did I have to offer her. I had little in the way of savings. When the war ended, there would be a lot of men my age around who could offer her much more.

A coal fell in the grate and I came to with a start. I poked the fire and built it up again. It was one o’clock. I must have been asleep for an hour. My stomach told me it was time for lunch even though I had sworn last night I would not need to eat for the next three days.

I went and got a sandwich and decided I would go for a walk after lunch. The day was still bright, though colder than Christmas Day had been. I wrapped up warmly and set off. I had no destination in mind but walked through the woods towards the village, intending to make a loop round the bottom edge of the wood and return along the lane. It was a walk I had done several times before and I loved the woods.

There was a thick layer of leaves on the ground, all frozen crisp and making a crunching sound with each footstep and an occasional cry from a bird was the only other sound. The bare trees arched overhead, with the sun glinting through. The East wind which had chilled the earlier part of the day had dropped and it was sheltered under the trees. It was beautiful and peaceful.

Eventually I came out on the track running along the edge of the wood down to the lane and I turned downhill. It was quieter walking on the grass and there was no sound except my breathing. The sun was still shining as it descended towards the hills to the West, throwing long shadows. Already the valley would be in shade and the temperature dropping. I picked up my pace as the complete stillness stirred an unease in some primitive part of my brain. As I reached the lane and as I turned east back towards the school, I saw clouds massing in the distance and the hills were disappearing in a haze, which could only be snow.

Then I heard a low moaning sound in the trees and the freezing wind hit me in the face.

#108: Author: Mia, Location: London

Posted: Sun May 22, 2005 4:51 pm

Oh hope Hugh isn't going to get trapped in a blizzard!!!
I also hope Dorothy reciprocates his feelings...

Thanks, Pat, great as ever

#109: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Sun May 22, 2005 5:18 pm

Thanks Pat - that was beautiful.

Until the end - please keep Hugh safe. *wibbles*

Liz

#110: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Sun May 22, 2005 5:34 pm

Nice ending! Laughing

Lovely post Pat - I think he has already made the decision to stay at the School.

#111: Author: Ann, Location: Newcastle upon Tyne, England

Posted: Sun May 22, 2005 9:38 pm

*wibbles*

Thank you Pat - this continues to be excellent.

#112: Author: Carolyn P, Location: Lancaster, England

Posted: Sun May 22, 2005 10:08 pm

Hope he stays and that Dorothy accepts the proposal he must make soon. Laughing

(hint hint Patmac!!)

#113: Author: Kathy_S, Location: midwestern US

Posted: Mon May 23, 2005 7:33 am

Beautiful set of posts. Christmas was lovely – and the reaction to Hugh’s anguished description of the blitz very realistic. It’s nice to see him really looking toward the future now. It’ll be interesting to see Hilary’s impact! (Unless, of course, everything is thrown off by that cliff, er, storm ....)

#114: Author: MaryR, Location: Sale Cheshire

Posted: Mon May 23, 2005 10:22 am

That was a beautiful, reflective post, Pat, making us see the innermost workings of Hugh's mind. What a lovely man he is.

May he find the happiness he deserves.

#115: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Mon May 23, 2005 10:28 am

Wonderful post, Pat, but I'm wibbling about who will rescue Hugh from the blizzard.

#116: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Mon May 23, 2005 2:35 pm

Beautiful posts thank you Pat. Agreeing with Lesley that Hugh seems to have already made his decisions.

#117: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Mon May 23, 2005 8:00 pm

I keep hoping that if I keep looking at this, Pat will have written another long episode.

Yes, that was a hint.

#118: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Mon May 23, 2005 8:45 pm

Sorry! I'm afraid even Reg can't compete with 2 whole hours of The Chelsea Flower Show on TV Wink

I stopped for a moment and weighed up the options. I had no idea how fast the snow would approach. If I turned and went back through the woods at least it would be sheltered but I doubted my ability to find my way through the trees in a snow storm. Here, I was walking on a road and couldn’t possibly get lost. I pulled my scarf up over my mouth to protect my face as far as possible and set off as fast as I could walk. I tried to think how far it was to the school. Ten minutes? Fifteen at most. Surely the snow could not come as fast as that. In any case, this was England, not the Alps. I had privately taken the local’s tales of snowstorms with a pinch of salt but now I began to wonder.

My eye was streaming with the cold wind and I could hardly see, but I kept close the grass at the edge of the road and kept my head down. I walked on and suddenly came to the big gates to the school drive. As I turned into the drive, the laurels planted up the drive suddenly gave me some shelter and I felt a little better. Not far now.

Snow flakes started swirling down, just a few at first, then more and, as I reached the end of the drive and started out across the gravel forecourt, they came down in a dizzying cloud. I could hardly see the house and forced myself to pick up the pace. I pushed open the front door and, as I stepped inside, turned to look out. All I could see was a white, spinning mass, already covering the ground.

I took of my coat, boots and hat and padded through to the staff room in my socks to thaw out. My leg was aching and my face felt on fire. After a few minutes I made my way through to the kitchen and put the kettle on the hottest part of the range to make some tea. I took a cup back to the staff room, cradling it between my hands to warm them, and looked out of the window, nothing to be seen but white swirling flakes.

Then I suddenly realised.

John was not yet back. He was out somewhere in that blizzard.

#119: Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster

Posted: Mon May 23, 2005 8:49 pm

Pat stop taking lessons in cliffs!

#120: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Mon May 23, 2005 8:51 pm

But she does them so well! Wink

Thank you Pat, hope John is OK.

#121: Author: Laura, Location: London (ish)

Posted: Mon May 23, 2005 8:51 pm

Patmac have you been taking cliff lessons too??!

Hugh to the rescue!

Thanks, though!

#122: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Mon May 23, 2005 8:55 pm

Someone else to wibble about! Thanks, pat.

I blame all this cliff-building on Lesley.

#123: Author: Carolyn P, Location: Lancaster, England

Posted: Mon May 23, 2005 9:15 pm

You got him safe...and then landed the cliff, now that is sheer class Pat! Wonderful.

#124: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 12:28 am

Sorry! I'm afraid even Reg can't compete with 2 whole hours of The Chelsea Flower Show on TV Wink

Completely understand! Laughing

('tis why my own update was so late in coming too!!)

Thanks Pat, great posts. Hope John's okay - come on, Hugh, time to be the hero.

Looking forward to seeing Hilary at New Year too - maybe midnight would be a perfect time for Hugh to let Dorothy know how he feels! Very Happy

#125: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 7:32 am

I was just feeling so relieved that Hugh got back safely then WHAM!

Thanks Pat

Liz

#126: Author: Mia, Location: London

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 8:37 am

*Wibbling madly*

Is John safe??

#127: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 8:52 am

Nice cliff! And I enjoyed the CFS coverage as well!

Thank you Pat. Hope John is ok!

#128: Author: Dawn, Location: Leeds, West Yorks

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 10:52 am

patmac wrote:

Sorry! I'm afraid even Reg can't compete with 2 whole hours of The Chelsea Flower Show on TV Wink

And another who was watching Very Happy

Again was relieved that Hugh was OK then fell off the (very snowy) cliff re John

#129: Author: Vikki, Location: Sitting on an iceberg, freezing to death!!!

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 4:38 pm

PAAAAAAAAAAAT!!!!

Don't be mean to poor John! (or Hugh!)

#130: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 4:45 pm

Sorry folks! 'tis *as the bunny bites* More Chelsea Flower Show tonight! I just wonder which will be best in show. The judges often surprise me on that!

Common sense told me that John was an experienced hiker. He would have taken shelter somewhere. He would be in a shepherd’s hut or even at a farm ….. somewhere.

After a few moments, common sense departed and I fled to the phone in John’s study. I waited while the operator came on the line and told her of my predicament. She was maddeningly calm.

“Now, now, Mr Douglas. Don’t you be worrying yourself. Mr Wheeler will have had an eye to the weather. I don’t doubt he’ll be safe and sound. We couldn’t get anyone out to look for him anyway till the snow stops and it gets light. I’ll ask round some of the hilltop farms. He’ll have gone up to Egton High Moor, I expect. It’s his favourite walk. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

With that, she disconnected the line.

Now what! I looked out of the window again. It was dark apart from the snow which was still whirling down and I saw that it had now formed a thick blanket on the ground. I had never seen so much snow in my life. When snow falls in London, it is quickly turned to grey slush. An inch lying on the ground is a heavy snow fall. This was deeper than that already. I thought of some the tales Dorothy had told me of her time at school in Austria and near disasters in the snow. I felt so helpless. I had no idea where he had gone.

I suddenly realised I hadn’t drawn the blackout curtains. I turned off the light and went back into the hall and closed the study door. No! I might not hear the phone. I went back into the study and closed the curtains. I switched on the light again and went across to the fireplace. Fumbling desperately with the matches, I lit the twists of newspaper under the wood and watched as the fire caught. I was shivering now. The study had not been heated since Christmas eve and it was so cold my teeth were chattering. I knelt by the fire and waited till I was sure the larger logs had caught. Then I sat and waited.

Eventually, I could sit no longer and I started wandering aimlessly round the room. I realised that I was still in my socks. This was likely to be a long wait. Perhaps I should go and get them and another pullover. But what if the phone went? I was still not very fast going up and down the stairs. I decided I would have to go and fetch them and I left the door open so I would hear the phone – ridiculous in hindsight as my room was on the second floor. I came down with my slippers on, carrying an extra jumper and a blanket and sat down again by the fire to wait.

I looked idly round the room. I had been in here many times since that first day in August but there had always been a purpose to my visits and I had not really taken in the details. I knew John spent long hours here. He used it as a sitting room as well as a study and now I noticed more personal touches. I got up and went to look at a picture on the wall. Eight young men stood in a row smiling broadly at the camera. They were standing on the top of a mountain somewhere. I recognised John by his height and black unruly hair. At a guess, he was about nineteen or twenty. Another showed John in gown and mortar board flanked by a proud looking man and woman, his parents I guessed.

I moved on. There was one of a group of young men in Army uniform. I picked out the one I thought was John and wondered what had become of the rest. After this all the pictures were of groups of boys with Chaucer House in the background.

I sat at John’s desk for a moment. I knew little about him apart from his life at the school. He had told me that he had come here straight from the First World War, but I knew nothing else.

Then my eye fell on a small silver frame, standing towards the back of this desk. The blurred snapshot was of a young woman, laughing at the camera. She stood, wearing a long dress, against a background of the sea. One hand was raised, pushing back an errant strand of hair. A sister? A long lost girl friend?

I got up and went back to my seat by the fire, feeling I had invaded John’s privacy. I had no right in this room but I could not leave till I knew he was safe. I stoked up the fire, pulled the blanket up round me and settled to keep vigil for a man who had given me a chance in life.

#131: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 5:44 pm

Awwww, poor Hugh, he's probably having a worse time than John - I expect, with him knowing the weather, John is holed up nice and comfy in some farm somewhere!

Thanks Pat.

#132: Author: MaryR, Location: Sale Cheshire

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 6:16 pm

Looks like it's going to be a long night for Hugh.

Don't leave John out there too long, Pat. Pretty please! Rolling Eyes

Thank you.

#133: Author: Sugarplum, Location: second star to the right!

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 7:40 pm

echoes Mary ...

#134: A Village Boy Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 7:47 pm

Lesley is probably correct in thinking that John is sheltering safely somewhere, even if it's in a shepherd's hut.

Since it's likely that nothing will be heard from him until morning now, even though he's safe, I agree with Mary and Sugarplum that Hugh is in for a long night, and is probably in a worse state than John.

Please don't keep us in suspense for *too* long, Patmac!

#135: Author: Carolyn P, Location: Lancaster, England

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 9:23 pm

Thanks patmac. Hope they are both ok.

#136: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 10:12 pm

Lesley wrote:

Awwww, poor Hugh, he's probably having a worse time than John - I expect, with him knowing the weather, John is holed up nice and comfy in some farm somewhere!

Just what I was thinking. Poor Hugh, but so very real - it's often the one's waiting at home for news and thinking the worst who suffer most.

(Am hoping that is actually the case and you're not about to do something horrid to John Shocked

)

thanks Pat

#137: Author: Susan, Location: Carlisle

Posted: Tue May 24, 2005 11:39 pm

Was also watching Chelsea Flower Show last night and tonight.

Thanks Pat some wonderful updates there. Lovely Christmas scene about the blitz. Read last nights post and was rejoicing that Hugh was safe and then found out John wasn't, oh dear. Am now wibbling about John hope we hear he is safe soon.

#138: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Wed May 25, 2005 5:55 pm

Advance warning that I'm away tomorrow night, possibly won't be back to post on Friday evening and so Saturday is almost certainly the next post.

I dozed, fitfully, waking with a start every time the logs collapsed in the grate. Twice I went to fetch more logs from the Staff Room and to make tea in the kitchen. Each time straining to hear if the phone rang. Eventually I drifted into a deeper sleep and woke with a start to realise that it was early morning.

I switched off the light and pulled back the curtains, looking out with awe at a white landscape. It was that moment of renewal between night and dawn when the world stands still and the new day is just a promise, a glint of light in the east.

As I watched, the stars faded and, as the pale sun slowly emerged from behind the hills, the snow became dazzling stretching across the valley and up the hills to meet the deep blue sky. Absolute stillness held the scene in it’s grip. I stood in awe for a moment and then came back to reality.

The snow was so deep that the low wall bounding the forecourt had disappeared. I had not had a phone call. Should I ring the operator again? She had promised to make calls to outlying farms and call me back if he was safe. I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. I picked up the phone.

A man’s voice answered and, with that inhuman calm which characterises exchange operators everywhere, told me that the lines were down to most outlying farms and so he had no way of contacting them. Thinking quickly, I asked to be connected to Polgarth Home Farm and then endured an agonising wait while the phone was picked up.

Mr Newby answered and I told him what had happened. There was silence at the other end while he took in what I had told him.

“He knows these hills like the back of his hand.” He said reassuringly. “He’s been walking them for the past twenty odd years and he knows the weather as well as a local. I’ll get word to the high farms but I wouldn’t be surprised if you see him walk in the door any time soon.”

“The operator says the lines are down. You can’t phone them.”

There was a rumble of laughter down the phone.

“Bless you! I was forgetting you were a city lad. We haven’t had the phone round here that long. There’ll be lots of coming and going now the snow’s stopped. ‘Tis not as though it was a heavy fall. Only about a foot or so. You bide easy. We’ll find him.”

With that I had to be content. I went through to the kitchen and made toast and yet another pot of tea and returned to John’s study and sat by the window, looking out at the view. The snow lay undisturbed and looked so beautiful and innocent that, if I had not experienced the beginnings of the storm, I would never have believed it could have been born of such violence.

It was about eleven o’clock when I heard the sound of a tractor and craning my neck to see along the drive, saw two figures, one driving and, precariously balanced behind, him was a tall man with a shock of dark hair.

I rushed to the hall and opened the door. The tractor stopped and John, looking none the worse for wear, jumped down. With a quick word of thanks to the driver, he stamped his way through the snow to the house with a broad grin on his face.

“I’m sorry.” He said as he walked into the hall, leaving a trail of snow on the parquet floor. “I tried to phone but the lines were down.” He shed his outer clothes and I pulled him into the study.

“The fire’s lit in here. Come in and get warm.”

He took in the presence of a blanket and several dirty cups and plates. “Have you been here all night?”

“You don’t think I’d have gone to bed without knowing if you were alright, do you?” Relief and lack of sleep made my reply rather acerbic.

“I saw it coming and rushed over to Mountain Ash Farm. I got there just as the snow started. I tried to ring a bit later but the lines were down by then. Mr Patterson brought me down as soon as he could.”

“Just so long as you are safe!” I replied. “I imagined all sorts of things. Oh, and we’d better phone the exchange and Mr Newby. I rang the exchange last night and Mr Newby this morning.”

John was contrite. “You were quite right to be worried. If I’d been on the west side of a hill and not seen it coming it could have been nasty. I’m just not used to anyone worrying during the holidays. Let’s phone round now and then have some breakfast.” He glanced at the clock. “Or an early lunch! I had breakfast with the Pattersons at around six o’clock and I’m ready for a fry up.”

He made the necessary calls while I started a serious fry up. Bacon, eggs, black pudding, sausages, baked beans and fried bread all went into the pan and the smell of cooking permeated the kitchen. John joined me and I thought he was a little surprised at the relief with which his safe return was greeted.

Once we had eaten and drained the last drops of a pot of coffee, John was yawning. “I could do with a couple of hours sleep.”

“So could I.” We retired to our rooms and the next thing I knew it was dark again.

#139: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Wed May 25, 2005 6:28 pm

Thank you Pat! So relieved John is OK and smiling that he was surprised Hugh worried! Laughing

#140: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Wed May 25, 2005 10:28 pm

Thanks Pat

Glad John is safe

Liz

#141: Author: Kathy_S, Location: midwestern US

Posted: Thu May 26, 2005 3:22 am

Thank you for resolving that before you left, Pat!

Despite clifflets Cool

and the very real problems the characters have faced, there's an underlying serenity in this series that I find very attractive.

#142: Author: Sophoife, Location: down under Down Under

Posted: Thu May 26, 2005 8:01 am

Golly just caught up from page 2 - and so glad I kept the forcefield up! Twisted Evil

Patmac sorry you are away - did you like the "outdoor lounge" as the Aussie TV news described it that apparently won a gold medal at Chelsea?

This story is my CBB comfort read. hence the forcefield

#143: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Thu May 26, 2005 10:02 am

Thank you Pat. Glad John was ok and amused at his surprise over Hugh's worry.

#144: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Thu May 26, 2005 10:07 am

Thank you for bringing John safely home, PatMac. I was wondering whether Hugh would have to take over the running of the school.

#145: Author: Mia, Location: London

Posted: Thu May 26, 2005 10:11 am

I'm glad John is safe too. This is a lovely piece of writing Very Happy

#146: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Fri May 27, 2005 1:33 am

So glad he's safe! Very Happy

Thanks Pat. Hope you have/had a lovely time wherever you're going.

#147: Author: Susan, Location: Carlisle

Posted: Fri May 27, 2005 11:23 pm

Thank you for keeping John safe Pat. Hope you have had a nice time whilst you were away.

#148: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Sat May 28, 2005 2:30 pm

I hope that you've had a great time whilst you were away.

Is it too soon to start chanting or whinging? Whichever one gets on your nerves the most.

#149: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Sat May 28, 2005 2:31 pm

We went to Alan's brother's birthday dinner, stayed over and then went down to Trentham to see the Italian Gardens. Alan remembers going on picnics there when he was little! Chelsea Flower Show followers will have seen the Gold Medal winning 'Trentham Awakes'. Worth a visit.

http://www.trenthamleisure.co.uk/index.html

For the next three days, we slipped back into our pre-Christmas routine. Walks in the morning and work in the afternoon, followed by a quiet evening. The snow disappeared remarkably quickly in the valley as the temperature rose and we settled into a period of mists. Poor flying weather, as I still thought of it.

I left for Leeds on the day before New Year’s eve, taking the afternoon train. I think John had an inkling that there was a girl involved as I left in my suit, but he was too much of a gentleman to say anything.

I signed into the Hotel Metropole, most impressed with it’s Victorian Splendour, spoiled only by the paper tape across all the windows to reduce the chance of flying glass if a bomb fell nearby. We hardly noticed this now. It had become a feature of all buildings. After unpacking, I set off for a walk round the nearby streets. The Hotel was situated in a business area and I walked some distance through the dark streets before the sound of unfamiliar music drew me down an alley leading to a Public House. I went in and saw that the place was filled with American servicemen and I hesitated for a moment.

A young, stocky airman with an unruly head of fair hair happened to glance across and saw me by the door. He came across beaming a welcome. “Hi, there! I’m sorry we’ve taken over your local pub. Let me buy you a drink.”

“It’s not my local, actually. I’m a stranger here too. I was just looking for somewhere to have a drink. I gather you’ve got some leave?”

“Yep. We move on tomorrow, God alone knows where, and the powers that be decided we could have a night off. I guess the MPs will be along later to round us up but in the meantime what are you drinking?”

“A pint of beer, please. I don’t recognise the music. What is it?”

My companion bellowed across the room. “Chuck! A pint for a Limey who’s not scared to drink with us roughneck Yanks!” He turned to me again. “the music is Dixie. You might say we brought it with us. I can’t help noticing. Were you an airman.”

“Yes. Spitfires.” From a fellow airman, I could take the direct comment.

He winced. “When the fuel tanks blew, I hear they spewed the fire straight back at you.”

“Yes. What do you fly?”

“Thunderbolts, low-level fighter-bombers. We do a mix of escort for heavy bombers and a bit of low level bombing.”

It was my turn to wince. “Dodgy stuff, from what I hear.”

He shrugged. “Got to be done. We’ve got to beat the bastards. My family come from Holland originally and it’s sorta personal.”

A darker man, taller than the young man who had originally welcomed me came over, carrying three pints of beer with the careful concentration only a less than sober man could manage. We each took a glass from him.

“Cheers!” We drained our glasses in unison.

“I’m Dutch van Alden, Mike really but I answer to Dutch more easily nowadays.” He cocked a thumb at his companion who had brought the drinks. “This is Chuck Bradley.”

“I’m Hugh Douglas. Pleased to meet you both.”

I stayed, drinking and chatting for longer than I intended and only the thought that the Hotel Restaurant stopped serving dinner at half past nine stopped me staying till closing time. As it was, I was slightly unsteady on my feet as I retraced my steps. Mike and I had exchanged addresses, vowing in the heat of a slightly inebriated moment to stay in touch.

In the cold light of the next morning, fighting a pounding head, I discounted the promises of everlasting friendship and threw his home address into the wastepaper bin. Then I hesitated, rescued the torn piece of paper and slipped it into my wallet.

I didn’t give a lot for his chances over the next few months but it seemed churlish to write him off. “Who knows?” I thought. “Maybe I’ll get to America one day.”

#150: A Village Boy Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Sat May 28, 2005 2:47 pm

Thanks for the update, Patmac. Are we supposed to read anything for the future into Mike van Alden's name - it sounds rather familiar to me.

Glad that Hugh was able to respond so frankly to a fellow airman, who clearly knew the dangers.

#151: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Sat May 28, 2005 2:53 pm

Thanks for the update Pat. I guess that you're weaving more than one storyline into this.

#152: Author: MaryR, Location: Sale Cheshire

Posted: Sat May 28, 2005 3:42 pm

Still as interesting as ever.

Thank you, Pat

#153: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Sat May 28, 2005 4:03 pm

This Dutch Van Alden is the same one Auntie and Reg met before Reg had started school. Is he also Corneys intended??

Lovely update Pat - glad the Americans were so welcoming to Hugh. Rather worried about their chances if a spitfire pilot doesn't think much of them.(Their chances I mean) Shocked

#154: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Sat May 28, 2005 6:43 pm

I'm sure I've heard that Mike van Alden name somewhere before! Wink

Thanks Pat - it's just as wonderful for the second time of reading. That last bit really brings home how many people never did make it back.

#155: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Sat May 28, 2005 9:12 pm

Josie wrote:

I'm sure I've heard that Mike van Alden name somewhere before! Wink

I forgot to credit Jo with the Mike TM character and full authorisation was received before posting Wink

We are in the same universe whenever Corney, Evadne or their doings are mentioned in Reg.

#156: Author: Sophoife, Location: down under Down Under

Posted: Sat May 28, 2005 10:18 pm

Awesome! Dutch has appeared! Thank you Patmac!!

The Italian garden looks sublime by the way...

#157: Author: Kathy_S, Location: midwestern US

Posted: Sun May 29, 2005 4:59 am

Thanks, Patmac! Nice to see Hugh able to open up to fellow fliers.
(Good thing we know Mike survives, though.)

(Nice site, too. Also impressed by any network that will put a flower show on TV.)

#158: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Sun May 29, 2005 7:17 pm

Kathy_S wrote:

( Also impressed by any network that will put a flower show on TV.)

It was watched by 5.5 million viewers, too. I must admit it is not 'a' flower show but 'the' flower show of the year. don't forget this is the country where a radio programme has been running since 1947 called Gardeners Question Time! You can listen to the latest show here

http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/gqt/

I felt better after breakfast, even if the eggs were scrambled powdered egg and set off to make my way to the Hatcherds’ house. They lived a little way out of the centre of town at Headingley and the tram ran most of the way there. All I knew of Headingley was that the Yorkshire County Cricket Ground was there. As we climbed out of Leeds, the houses became bigger and the roads wider. There were trees planted along the road and grass verges between the road and pavement. Imposing stone Victorian Villas were interspersed with rows of semi detached houses with bay windows in the 1930s style.

My heart began to sink. Semi detached houses, let alone detached Victorian Villas were rather above the mark for a lad from a two up, two down in the East End of London. I couldn’t see me being able to offer Dorothy anything in this class.

Eventually, I saw the church which Dorothy had told me to look out for. It stood set back on a bend in the road and I got up, ready for the next stop. I was somewhat relieved to see that it was set in what had once been a village rather than the affluent suburbs I had passed through. I set off down St Michael’s Road and, checking the instructions Dorothy had sent me, turned right again. To my relief, I found myself in a street lined with terraced houses, bigger than my own home had been and each with a front garden, small, but nevertheless a front garden. These houses were at least considerably less imposing than some I had passed. Stone steps led up to the front doors and each had a basement with a window at the front. I checked the numbers and, as I made my way along, a door opened and there was Dorothy waving. She must have been waiting for me and my heart did it’s little lurch again as I broke into an uneven run to meet her as she ran down the steps.

For a moment we clasped hands and, as I looked into her eyes, I saw a promise I had hardly dared hope for. We stood for a moment and then a voice called “Hey, you two. Come on in before you freeze to death.”

A pleasant faced young woman, a little older than Dorothy was peering out of the front door, her eyes twinkling with amusement at the sight of us standing there. We broke apart, both flushing slightly and went up the steps.

As I had guessed she was Hilary. Dorothy introduced her us and we politely shook hands. I got the impression she was weighing me up and it made me nervous.

“I’ll get coffee.” She offered and went through to the back of the house. I shed my coat and hat and Dorothy ushered me into the sitting room. As always when we saw one another there was a short stage where we were both shy. Our letters were advancing our friendship in a way that meant we had to readjust to a physical presence each time we met.

Hilary was gone rather a long time just to make a pot of coffee and I guessed she was giving us a few minutes alone. By the time she returned, we had got over the awkwardness and were bringing one another up to date on happenings at Polgarth and Leeds.

Hilary passed the cups round and curled her long legs under her in a large armchair. “Don’t mind me.” She said gesturing for us to continue talking. “I’ll bet you’re talking about the school anyway so it’ll be interesting for me. You know I’m a teacher don’t you?”

“You teach at the school where you and Miss Hatcherd went to school. She’s told me about you.”

Hilary raised her eyebrows. “Haven’t you two got to first name terms yet? Well, I’ll tell you now, I’m Hilary during the holidays! I have enough of Miss Burn during term. Come on. Don’t be so stuffy!”

I looked at Dorothy. Her eyes were twinkling and she shook with suppressed laughter. “You haven’t changed a bit Hilary! Blunt as ever.” She looked across to me in an unspoken query.

I grinned. “I think of you as Dorothy and sooner or later it’s going to slip out. Your decision!”

“You’ve been Hugh for a long while in my mind.”

“Good, now that’s settled. Yes, I was at the Chalet School with Dorothy, though I’m a couple of years older. I went back to teach there when I qualified. I teach games.”

The conversation flowed then and I heard stories from their time at school and of friends there. I listened to their tales with interest and amusement.

“Do you remember Corney Flower?”

“Who or what is Corney Flower?” I queried. “That’s a weird name. Cornflower I know but ‘Corney Flower’?”

“She’s really Cornelia but no one called her that unless she was in deep trouble. Which she quite often was. She’s American. She and Evadne, that’s another American, were quite an education.”

The two girls giggled.

“You rubber-necked”

“splayfooted”

“glumph!”

I laughed. “I spent yesterday evening in a bar with some American Airmen. The language was similar. Very colourful!”

Then, of course, I had to tell them the whole story of my evening in the pub and had them both laughing at the tale.

“That sounds like the Americans we know! Though Lulu wasn’t like that was she?” Dorothy appealed to Hilary.

“She was from New Orleans so maybe they’re different in the South. Anyway she was Head Girl when we joined the Chalet School so she was on her best behaviour. Anyway, I think her brother being so ill made her more serious.”

“Come to think of it wasn’t Evvy from Louisiana?”

“Ah, but she moved to New York so perhaps she picked up the madness there. You’d really like her, Hugh! She came back to England and joined the WAAFs.”

Both girls suddenly went silent and Hilary looked stricken.

“What happened?”

“Her fiancé was shot down earlier this year. He was in the American Air force.”

I hadn’t noticed till now that Hilary sported a diamond ring on her left hand.

“I’m so sorry.

Dorothy stood up and suggested we have lunch and then go for a walk. It was the only way most people could cope. Just get change the subject and carry on. I think the whole country would have come to a standstill if people stopped to think of their fears. I admired the way Hilary responded.

“Let’s walk up to the Carnegie Institute. You promised me we would one day while I’m here.”

“H’mm. Only if you promise not to spit on the doorstep!”

“And why would you do that, Hilary?” I asked, curiously.

“It’s a PE College but for men only. They’re a bit snooty about it.”

“I might just spit with you!”

Dorothy pretended to be shocked. “I’ll have you two remember I have to live here when you’ve gone home!”

#159: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Sun May 29, 2005 7:33 pm

Love it - like that Hugh's ideas on Carnegie are the same as Hilary's. Poor Hilary - she obviously has heartache to come. Crying or Very sad

Thanks Pat.

#160: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Sun May 29, 2005 11:06 pm

Poor Hilary. I do hope the engagement ends on a break-up rather than a death (we never found out why she didn't marry first time round, did we?)

Thanks Pat, a lovely post. You've got Hilary just right - very EBD - and I love watching Hugh and Dorothy's relationship develop.

Quote:

We are in the same universe whenever Corney, Evadne or their doings are mentioned in Reg.

Ditto when Reg, Auntie, Pheobe or Hugh turn up in mine! Very Happy

#161: Author: Dawn, Location: Leeds, West Yorks

Posted: Mon May 30, 2005 1:20 am

As superbly good as ever Pat

Love the bit about the diferent houses - my mother still wails about the fact that her friends from school used to live in this or that house and now it's all run down flats or B&B/guest Houses and students everywhere Wink

#162: Author: Sophoife, Location: down under Down Under

Posted: Mon May 30, 2005 2:23 am

Thank you Patmac!!!

Wondering if we *will* get to see the reason for Hilary's non-marriage...

Agree with Dawn about houses - my mum does the same thing!

#163: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Mon May 30, 2005 11:24 am

Thanks Pat

It's lovely to see Hugh and Dorothy's relationship developing - and to see Mike again Smile

Liz

#164: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Mon May 30, 2005 7:28 pm

The reason for Hilary's non marriage will be revealed when KB's 'Peace' is published. Since I'm quite willing to regard her version as 'Canon', I shall leave her to reveal that when the book is published Wink

*no, I'm not on commission but it will be published by GGBP this very year*

After lunch we strolled up the side streets till we came to the grounds of Beckett Park where the college was situated. As we walked, Dorothy and Hilary told me more about the Chalet School. I listened with half an ear to tales of girls and mistresses until a name suddenly struck a chord.

“I couldn’t believe it when Jo married Jack Maynard after you got out of Austria. Then when I heard she had triplets, I just fell about laughing. So like Jo!”

“Dorothy, did you say Jack Maynard? He’s not a Doctor is he?”

“Yes. Why? Do you know him?”

“Well, if it’s the same one, he’s paying Reg Entwistle’s school fees. Oh! That’s where I’ve heard of Armiford. It must be the same one.”

I turned to Hilary. “A friend of theirs got married in November. Reg Entwistle and Archie Peters went to the wedding. Does that ring a bell?”

Her eyes widened. “That’s weird. It was Phoebe Wychcote. She married Dr Peters. He’s Archie’s uncle. Good grief! A boy called Reg was there with his Aunt. He was a friend of Phoebe’s.” She chuckled. “That would be stretching the long arm of coincidence in a book. I didn’t know Jack was paying for his schooling. It does sound like Jo and Jack though. Jo is always helping people and, Jack’s the same. I’ve a very soft spot for them. I owe my life to Jack and another Doctor, Gottfried. Has Dorothy told you about our escape from Austria?”

“Just the bare outline. You got mixed up in a riot and had to escape over the mountains? I don’t think you told her the details.”

Hilary told us about it as we strolled along. It started off as an adventure yarn and then she seemed to be reliving it. I could see that the experience was difficult to relate and wondered if she had told anyone the whole story before. Her eyes were unfocused as she relived the horror of the riot and the fear during the journey into Switzerland.

Dorothy and I exchanged glances and linked arms with her as she continued.

“Poor old Herr Goldman died. He mended this watch when I over wound it.” She gestured to her wrist. “And his wife, too, and Vater Johann. Why?”

The last sentence came out as almost a sob and neither Dorothy nor I knew what to say.

Hesitantly, I found myself recounting the address Dr Cartwright had given at the end of our Carol Service and the comfort I had taken from the three boys singing a simple hymn in German.

I struggled to find the words I needed. Perhaps there were no words to express it. I had suffered physically but not in the personal way that Hilary had related. I had never seen, let alone spoken to, a Nazi soldier. My war had been machine against machine. It was kill or be killed. Even the deaths I had witnessed when the airfield was hit had been the result of impersonal bombs, not a face to face encounter. I talked on, trying to explain. I told her of the past term’s problems with Molyneux and how that had nearly ended in tragedy, searching for words to clarify my own mind as I told them what that had taught me.

“We can’t turn the clock back. We can only go on from where we are. I know you will remember the old man, his wife and the priest for ever. Father Johann knew what he was doing. He couldn’t stand by and see innocent people hurt without trying to do something. I think he got to the point where he could ignore his own safety by all the countless little steps to fight injustice he had taken through his life. He didn’t have a crisis of conscience and wonder what to do. It was second nature.

I used to think I could change the world. I would go into politics and make a big difference – get rid of injustice by forcing change from the top. Now I think it is as important to fight the small prejudices, to teach the next generation to be more tolerant. Every time you teach one of your pupils to look at someone who is different from her as a real person who is equally worthy of agape, you are carrying on where Father Johann left off. I’m sure, if we could ask him now, he would tell us he doesn’t regret what he did.”

Hilary stopped walking and pulling her handkerchief out of her coat pocket, scrubbed her eyes fiercely and gave a weak smile.

“Sorry to be a waterspout. I’ve never really talked about it like that. Everyone who was there has enough problems without reopening old wounds and my parents were frantic enough as it was without telling them the details. When we tell the story to people, we usually make out it was a big adventure. I didn’t mean to spoil your day.”

Dorothy gave her a quick hug. “You’re not a waterspout! I’m only glad we could listen. It’s what friends are for.”

We walked on and Hilary asked me to tell her more of Polgarth. I rattled on, more to give her time to recover herself than anything and she listened quietly.

“My brothers go to a public school. Bullying and the stupid class system seem to be rife.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I thought it was normal for boys’ schools.”

“That I can’t tell you. I don’t know anything about other public schools except what I’ve heard. Maybe Polgarth is different.”

She thought for a moment.

“I went out to Austria when our Head decided to move the school out there. We were St Margaret’s in England but Miss Browne renamed us as St Scholastika’s. It was the only concession she made to being in Austria! We had no contact with the local people and the whole point of it, which was to broaden us culturally was just a pretence. We were still an English School. We didn’t even learn the language properly. My parents were keen for me to have a broader outlook and it didn’t really happen till Miss Browne gave up and closed the school.

Then we joined the Chalet School. That really changed things. We were mixed with girls from all over the place and all walks of life. We got to know the locals as real people and our Head was absolutely insistent on good manners to everyone. Jolly good thing too! I think your Head is right. It all starts with little steps.”

We were now standing in front of a row of imposing red brick buildings which comprised the College. No one was about and the shutters were closed. We stood and looked at them for a moment.

Hilary grinned. “Perhaps we had better start here.”

Dorothy and I both looked puzzled.

Her grin widened and she curtseyed to the building.

When we had stopped laughing, we stepped forward and ceremoniously spat on the ground.

#165: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Mon May 30, 2005 7:45 pm

Yahhhhhhh! Good on them!!!!

Lovely Pat - love Hilary's recounting of the escape - not as an adventure, as a time she feared for her life.

Thank you.

#166: A Village Boy Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Mon May 30, 2005 7:58 pm

Thank you so much for this, Patmac - EBD was so concerned with the effects that this flight from Austria had on Jo, Jack, Gottfried, Robin and Miss Wilson that we forget how traumatic it must have been for the others, particularly Hilary, who was probably the strongest of the girls, physically at any rate and well able to appreciate the danger they were in. So good that Dorothy and Hugh were there to listen when she finally described her own experience and that Hugh can draw on what he has learned during the term to bring her solace.

I've never been as familiar with Headingley as I am with other areas of Leeds, but the description of the changes in the previous post reminded me so much of my own mother's description of the changes in the areas south of the University, too.

I know that a publication date for 'Peace' isn't yet announced in the GGBP lists - do you happen to know if KB has any idea when they expect to add it?

#167: Author: Pat, Location: Doncaster

Posted: Mon May 30, 2005 8:09 pm

I did my Librarianship degree at Beckett Park. they still do sports dgerees there.
My daughter is doing her Masters there as well. It's a beautiful place.

#168: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Mon May 30, 2005 8:19 pm

I have to read each post twice before I can reply, it's so good.

#169: Author: Sophoife, Location: down under Down Under

Posted: Mon May 30, 2005 11:44 pm

Jennie - snap!!

Patmac - thank you for that one.

#170: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Tue May 31, 2005 9:08 am

Thank you Pat!

#171: Author: Mia, Location: London

Posted: Tue May 31, 2005 9:49 am

Hugh is really lovely. isn't he? I'm glad Dorothy seems to reciprocate his feelings. He deserves a lovely romance! Very Happy

ETA: Wow I have a star!

#172: Author: keren as guest,

Posted: Tue May 31, 2005 9:59 am

Wonderful, wonderful post.
Hilary was the oldest girl, and also did not go back to the CS then.

#173: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Tue May 31, 2005 7:16 pm

Pat wrote:

I did my Librarianship degree at Beckett Park.

So did Alan's niece. Alan taught there when he joined LMU and was most dischuffed when they moved to City Campus with its ghastly tower blocks.

Thank you everyone for the encouragement.

We walked through the grounds for a little while and then made our way back and Dorothy started preparing dinner. The kitchen wasn’t big enough for us all to be in there at once and she shooed us into the sitting room with a cup of tea.

“When do you go back to school?” I asked.

“I’m going back on Monday. The girls don’t come back till the tenth but there’s always plenty to do. We’re keeping half term short at the moment and taking longer for main holidays. Travel is so uncertain these days. What about you?”

“We’ve done the same as you. Some of the boys come from as far away as Devon and Cornwall so we’ve made it a long vacation. I’m staying at the school for the holidays. I’ve no family and all my friends are scattered and I’ve lost touch over the past couple of years, so I’ve nowhere to go. John Wheeler is in the same position so we’re enjoying a quiet couple of weeks. I don’t really mind. The last few years have been hectic and I need some time to take stock.”

“Will you stay at Polgarth?”

“That I haven’t decided. I probably will. I’d be lucky to find somewhere that suits me as well.”

“I agree. What you said earlier made me think. I went straight from The Chalet School to College and back again to teach. If it hadn’t been for the war, I’d have been married and it wouldn’t have mattered but that’s off for the duration. I’m happy there but I had wondered if I should spread my wings and get some other experience. I’d considered joining the forces, even.”

“And now?”

“I’ll stay. We’re teaching the girls to respect everyone – agape, as your Head put it. By the time this is over and the dust has settled, these children will be having their say. Teaching them is important in the long run. I don’t think I’d last long anywhere that didn’t take that view. And what about you and Dorothy?”

“What about us?”

“You know what I mean. Are you serious?”

I flushed. “I’d like to be but it’s not fair to her. I’ve no money nor likely to have. I’m very aware of how I look. When the war is over, there’ll be any number of young men coming home with more to offer. She should have her pick, not just settle for me because I’m available. Anyway, she may not feel the same way.”

Hilary stared at me in amazement for a moment and then laughed.

“I didn’t think you were an idiot. Can’t you see what’s in front of your eyes!”

“What!”

“Oh, she’s not told me so. I wouldn’t betray a confidence, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you and your name has come into every other sentence since I arrived. It had me worried, I can tell you. She’s not the type to play around and I’d hate to see her hurt. Lack of money won’t bother her. Her father and his brother built their business up from scratch and I’ve heard her father’s views on inherited money! As for your scars, that obviously doesn’t bother her or you wouldn’t have got this far.”

I was speechless for a moment. I couldn’t sit still. I stood up and walked over to the window, looking out onto the street till I could control my feelings. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She sounded so confident.

I swung round to face her. She just sat there and laughed.

“You look like a stranded codfish! Did you really not guess?”

“I didn’t dare.”

She stopped laughing and looked seriously at me.

“Hugh, I know you’ve had a rough time, worse than I can imagine, but don’t let it ruin the rest of your life. I’ve forgotten most of my Latin but what’s that phrase that means ‘Seize the Day’. I think it was at the end of one of Horace’s Odes.?”

“Carpe Diem.” I replied.

#174: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Tue May 31, 2005 7:31 pm

Go for it Hugh!!!

And isn't Hilary lovely?

Thanks Pat.

#175: Author: Mia, Location: London

Posted: Tue May 31, 2005 7:34 pm

I have all my fingers and toes crossed that Hugh will tell Dorothy how he feels! Crying or Very sad

*Crying because it's so romantic*

Thanks Pat

#176: Author: Carolyn P, Location: Lancaster, England

Posted: Tue May 31, 2005 11:04 pm

Thanks Patmac. I love the way you have managed to tie in Polgarth and the Chalet so neatly, very EBD. It is lovely the way Hugh couldn't see how Dorothy felt, or was too scared to see, and so like Hilary to tell him.

#177: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Tue May 31, 2005 11:34 pm

Thanks Pat - that was lovely. Hopefully Hilary has given Hugh the encouragement he needs.

Liz

#178: Author: Kathy_S, Location: midwestern US

Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2005 5:05 am

Magnificent set of posts, especially the one ranging from the trauma of Hilary's escape to the gesture at the college. I do love the way the Polgarth and CS stories are coming together -- and Hilary makes a fabulous catalyst. Very Happy

#179: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2005 8:32 am

Beautiful. Thank you Pat. Hope Hugh can believe Hilary and act upon it!

#180: Author: Sophoife, Location: down under Down Under

Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2005 8:32 am

Awwww. Also teary cos it's so romantic!

Thank you Patmac!!

#181: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2005 11:47 am

Wonderful, Pat. I'm having to wipe the tears away.

#182: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2005 5:21 pm

Wonderful Pat. The part with Hilary recounting the story of the escape from Tirol was very touching, and I loved the way Hugh comforted her.

Had a good chuckled at them spitting on the doorstep of the college, and now I want to give Hugh a big hug!!

#183: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2005 5:50 pm

Hilary went to see if Dorothy needed help and I sank down in my chair again in a daze. After a few minutes, they came in, laughing at some joke about the dinner. I managed to pull myself together and we fell to discussing books we had read. Hilary was a voracious reader, too and when Mrs Hatcherd came in we were well away. Hearing them discussing French and German authors they enjoyed, I wished my French was up to reading them and that I had learned German.

Mrs Hatcherd came and sat down with us, greeting me warmly, and hearing the girls using my first name, followed suit. After a few minutes, Dorothy slipped away to the kitchen and soon called us through for dinner.

We all went through to the dining room. At least this time I was ready for the first course of Yorkshire Pudding with gravy.

“We saved Christmas dinner for today.” Announced Dorothy as she and Hilary brought in the vegetables. “Hansel stopped doing his duty a couple of weeks ago so we fattened him up nicely.”

“Hansel?” I queried.

Dorothy looked slightly embarrassed and giggled. “We keep chickens on the allotment and when we got the first ones, I very stupidly named them. Hansel and Gretel are, or I should say were, a cock and hen who always liked sitting on a pile of leaves. Gretel stopped laying ages ago and made some good dinners, and we have a new young cockerel now so today’s dinner is Hansel.”

“Why was it stupid to name them?”

“Because it makes it harder to wring their necks when they have names. The newer ones don’t have names.”

Hansel was all a chicken should be and we gave him a good send off with much appreciation for his virtues. After dinner, Dorothy and Hilary insisted on washing up while Mrs Hatcherd and I went through to the sitting room. When they appeared with a tray of tea we settled down for the evening.

“Have you played Monopoly?” Mrs Hatcherd asked me. “You really need at least four players and we don’t often get a chance these days.”

“Yes, do you have a set? It’s a good game.” I replied, remembering some of the riotous games we had played at the hospital and thinking this would be a more sedate affair.

A folding table was set in the middle of the room and Dorothy produced a large box containing the board game. We pulled our chairs near, chose our tokens and threw for first turn.

Sedate was not the right word for what ensued! Within minutes, the inevitable arguments began about the rules and we were laughingly consulting the rules book. Hilary played as whole heartedly as I guessed she did everything, shrieking when she went to gaol and throwing her dice with a flourish which had us scrambling under chairs to find them more than once.

Within half an hour we had all abandoned our chairs and were sitting on the floor. Property changed hands at a fast rate and loud were the groans when we landed on someone else’s property complete with hotel. When Dorothy drew the dreaded ‘Go directly to Jail. Do not pass Go, do not collect £200’ card twice in succession from the Chance cards pile we laughed so much at her chagrin that Hilary and Mrs Hatcherd collapsed together in a dishevelled heap.

By the time we stopped the game at a quarter to twelve and counted our assets to determine a winner, their hair was coming down and my tie was found behind the sofa after a search. I hadn’t laughed so much for years and my sides ached..

After declaring Hilary the winner, we put the game back in it’s box while Mrs Hatcherd went to fetch drinks to see in the New Year. She came back with a bottle of home made plum wine and four glasses.

As the hall clock struck twelve, we raised our glasses and toasted the New Year, the fifth one of the war.

“To absent friends,” said Mrs Hatcherd, “and Peace in 1944.”

There was silence for a moment and then Hilary asked the inevitable question.

“Do you think it will be over before next Christmas?”

They all looked at me with hope and, for once, I found I could not bear to give my true view on the matter.

“The tide has turned now. With the Americans pouring troops and aircraft in and the Russians wearing the German Army down, we know we will win. We know Germany is in a bad way. Perhaps they will have had enough this year.”

Mrs Hatcherd got up and banked up the fire with slack for the night.

“It’s past my bedtime.” She said standing up and stretching. “I’ve had a lovely evening. I’m going to turn in. Goodnight everyone. It was lovely to see you Hugh. I hope it won’t be long before you come again.”

Hilary picked up the bottle and glasses. “I’ll clear these.”

She returned a few minutes later and declared that she, too, was going to bed.

“It was nice to meet you, Hugh. I hope all goes well for you.”

“You, too, Hilary. It’s been a good day.”

I got up to shake hands but she was having none of it and kissed me on the cheek.

“See you soon.” She left the room.

I looked at the clock. “I’d better allow ten minutes to get the tram. It’s the last one and I don’t fancy walking. I’ll need to leave at about twenty to one to be on the safe side.”

“There’s just time for a coffee. I’ll make us both one.”

She set off to the kitchen and I followed her through. While the kettle boiled we made plans for my next visit which would be towards the end of January.

There was a pause in the conversation and I looked into her eyes. What she saw in mine made hers widen. I was trying to pluck up courage to ask if I stood a chance for the future, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Dorothy.” I croaked, my voice having deserted me.

She smiled and put her hands on my shoulders. I pulled her towards me and she nestled her head into my shoulder. She murmured something I could not hear and, still holding her, I placed my hand under her chin and lifted her face.

“You said something. I didn’t quite catch it.”

Her eyes were full of unshed tears but she was smiling.

“I said ‘Yes’.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“Because I’m happy.”

She put her hand behind my head and pulled my face down to hers.

THE END OF HUGH SETTLES DOWN.

#184: Author: Lesley, Location: Allhallows, Kent

Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2005 6:10 pm

Oh! That was so lovely. I'm really happy for Hugh.

Thanks Pat. Laughing

(Happy tears)

#185: Author: MaryR, Location: Sale Cheshire

Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2005 6:19 pm

Thank you, Pat, a lovely, happy ending to a moving tale. Smile

#186: Author: Mia, Location: London

Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2005 6:34 pm

This is marvellous, I am sorry to see it end though, but glad it ended happily! Thanks Pat

#187: Author: Ann, Location: Newcastle upon Tyne, England

Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2005 6:55 pm

Awww, that was lovely Pat!

#188: Author: Sugarplum, Location: second star to the right!

Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2005 11:10 pm

awwww that was lovely
Thanks Patmac!

#189: Author: Alice, Location: London, England

Posted: Wed Jun 01, 2005 11:28 pm

That was lovely, thanks patmac.

#190: A Villag boy Author: Elder in Ontario, Location: Ontario, Canada

Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2005 12:34 am

A really satisfying ending, Patmac. It's been wonderful to see how Hugh has progressed since coming to Polgarth - hope he and Dorothy will be very happy!

Looking forward to Hugh and Reg's second term at Polgarth, and of course, eventually to a wedding, once you've had time for the bunny to bite again - please and thank you!

#191: Author: Miss Di, Location: Newcastle, NSW

Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2005 3:33 am

That was so romantic, it brought a tear to my eye.

Thanks Pat for such a thoughtful lovely story.

#192: Author: Kathy_S, Location: midwestern US

Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2005 4:43 am

Lovely beginning of the New Year.
And I could just see that Monopoly game. Very Happy

#193: Author: Karry,

Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2005 7:46 am

Pat!!!!!!!

You can't leave it there!!!

Sad

(Where is the crying emoticon when you need it!)

#194: Author: Caroline OSullivan, Location: Reading, Berkshire, UK

Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2005 8:01 am

Thank you Patmac. This is fabulous. Looking forward to the next part when RL and PB co-operate.

Caroline

#195: Author: Jennie, Location: Cambridgeshire

Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2005 8:34 am

A lovely ending, but it came far too soon, PatMac. Still, weeping happy tears.

#196: Author: Nell, Location: London, England

Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2005 8:55 am

A wonderful ending. Thank you Pat. Look forward to seeing the wedding and more of Reg at school next term - when you're ready of course!

#197: Author: Josie, Location: London

Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2005 9:58 am

Awwwww - what a beautiful ending, Pat. I am so happy that Hugh seems to have found his happily ever after.

I've said it you already, I know, but he really is one of my favourite ever drabble characters. You draw his character so very well.

This has been as magnificent as all the others have been. *Really * looking forward to the next installment. Very Happy

Last edited by Josie on Thu Jun 02, 2005 10:17 am; edited 1 time in total

#198: Author: Joey, Location: Cambridge

Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2005 9:59 am

Wow, Pat, that was fantastic! Good for Hugh and Dorothy. I love the way the CS and Polgarth are related in so many small and unexpected ways, and getting another glimpse of Mike van Alden was super.

Thank you so much. Hope you have a good rest before starting part seven!

#199: Author: LizB, Location: Oxon, England

Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2005 12:19 pm

That was so lovely Pat - Thank you.

*laughing and smiling and crying at the same time*

Liz

#200: Author: patmac, Location: Yorkshire England

Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2005 5:36 pm