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Authors: Beryl Matthews

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BOOK: Battles Lost and Won
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The two young boys peeped in the open doorway and whispered, ‘Can we come in, Mum?’

‘Of course.’ Daisy smiled at her sons as they slipped quietly into the room. Steve had explained the situation to them, and they had obviously understood. ‘Where’s Sally?’

‘She’s asleep,’ they told her.

The youngest, John, was clutching his favourite dog-eared storybook, and he went straight over to Bob, holding it out to him. ‘Would you read the story of the dragons for me, please? There’s lots of words I don’t understand, but I always know them after you’ve told me.’

Ruth was alarmed and started to get up, but Daisy caught her arm, shaking her head. She sat down again and watched. John loved Bob to read to him, but she didn’t think this was the right time.

Taking the proffered book, Bob gazed at it for a moment, then reached out and pulled John on to his lap. ‘Lots of new words, are there? Have you got the little dictionary I gave you?’

After fishing about in his pocket, John produced an equally tatty little book. ‘I’ve always got it with me.’

‘Good boy. Now, do you know what page the story begins on?’

‘It’s the last story in the book.’ John settled down, a look of expectant pleasure on his face.

Eddie grinned at his mum and sister, then went and sat on the floor next to Bob’s chair so he could listen as well.

‘They’re good boys,’ Daisy said, quietly.

At first Bob’s voice was husky and hesitant, but soon he was speaking normally. Ruth never got tired of listening to him; he spoke well and had a lovely tone to his voice. She often wondered if he could sing, but she had never heard him do so.

Daisy tapped her daughter on the arm, and indicated that they should leave the room now.

‘He’ll be all right,’ she said once they were in the scullery. ‘The boys will take his mind off things for a while. I’ll wash his clothes out while you make us all some cheese sandwiches, Ruth. I don’t suppose any of us feel like eating, but we must have something.’

‘He ought to be a teacher, Mum. Although he’s in shock after finding his mum like that, he’s still got time for the boys and their reading.’

Daisy nodded. ‘I doubt he’s ever going to get the chance to become a teacher now though.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because we are considered the poor, Ruth, and people in our station don’t get many chances in life to improve ourselves.’

Ruth snorted in disgust. ‘I thought the war was supposed to change all that! Isn’t this now a land fit for heroes, like they promised? It’s not our fault we’re so poor. We’re not daft, and should all be judged on our abilities, not on where we live, or how poor we are.’

‘Ah, that sounds like Bob talking. What a world that would be.’ Daisy smiled at her daughter, then turned her attention to her husband as he walked into the scullery. ‘How’s Alf? Does he know what’s happened to Helen?’

‘He’s a mess, but he knows she’s dead. He was just too drunk to do anything about it. He’s crying with shame.’ Steve sat down and wiped a hand over his eyes. ‘Lord knows what’s going to happen to both of them now. As sick as she was, Helen held that family together.’

‘She knew she was dying,’ Daisy told her husband, ‘but she so wanted to live long enough to see Alf through his problems. She just didn’t have enough strength to hang on any longer.’

‘But Bob did everything he could for her, didn’t he?’ Ruth said.

‘He did, darling.’ Steve smiled wearily at his caring daughter. ‘He’s a good lad, but I fear for him now. Unless he can learn to forgive, that anger he’s carrying around will drag him down, if he isn’t careful.’

‘I’ll keep an eye on him.’ Ruth’s expression was grim as she piled sandwiches on a plate. ‘He’s my friend, and I’ll help him.’

‘I know you will, and we’ll have to watch out for Alf, Daisy.’ Steve pinched a sandwich from the plate, and then stood up. ‘We’ll have to arrange everything, and I’d better start immediately. We can’t leave Helen in the house. Did she have any funeral insurance?’

‘Yes, she told me her mother had taken out a penny one when she’d been born, and she’d kept it up. The policy’s in a biscuit tin at the back of her wardrobe.’

‘That’s a relief. At least we’ll be able to arrange a proper funeral.’ He hauled himself up, and left, eating as he went.

Three

The next day Bob went to work as usual, saying nothing about his mother’s death. It was too painful to talk about, and the last thing he wanted, or needed, was sympathy. He couldn’t handle that at the moment. The Coopers were seeing to all the distressing details, and he was enormously grateful to them. They had always been like a second family to him, but now they were all he had.

Somehow he got through the day, and when he reached home, Ruth was waiting for him.

‘The undertakers have been, Bob, and you can stay with us again if you don’t want to go into your own house at the moment.’

‘Thanks.’ He laid a large hand on her shoulder and shook his head. ‘You’ve all been very kind, Ruthie, but I’ve got to face up to everything. As much as I hate the old man, he’s got to get through the funeral. I’ll have to sober him up enough to stand at the graveside with some kind of dignity. Mum deserves that.’

‘He’s very upset,’ Ruth told him.

Bob’s expression darkened. ‘So he should be! I suppose it’s asking too much to expect him to have stayed sober today?’

When Ruth just shook her head, he turned away and swore under his breath, then spun back to face her. ‘Is he down the pub already?’

‘He went as soon as they opened. I’m sorry. We did try to stop him.’

‘Dear Lord, Ruthie, you don’t have to apologize. There’s only one person who can help that man, and that’s himself. Until he recognizes what he’s doing to himself and those around him, he’s never going to change. I did hope that the shock of Mum’s death might have brought him to his senses, but it seems not.’

‘I know you’re right.’ Tears shone in her clear blue eyes. ‘I do so wish we could help him.’

He looked at his little friend with affection. ‘You’d save the whole world if you could, but some people are beyond help. Don’t you worry; I’ll get him through the funeral. Tell your mum and dad I’ll be in to see them later to discuss the arrangements with them.’

‘All right. Have you got any food in the house? Mum said you could eat with us if you haven’t, and she’ll take a dinner in for your dad.’

‘Don’t worry about that. I did the shopping yesterday and there’s plenty there.’ His voice broke slightly, and he turned away, hiding his emotions. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Ruth watched her friend walk into his house, and sadness for him made her shoulders droop. He had taken on the responsibility of the man of the house all through the war, doing any dirty job he could find just to earn some money, and never once had she heard him complain. To have it end this way must be devastating for him.

Bob waited for the old man to come home from the pub, and pushed a strong cup of tea towards him as he slumped at the scullery table.

‘Drink that,’ he ordered, standing over him with the teapot in his hand. As soon as the cup was empty he refilled it, again and again.

When the pot was empty, Bob put it down and towered over his father, hands on hips. ‘The funeral is in six days’ time, and this is what we’re going to do. I don’t care how much you drink for the next five days, but on the day of the funeral you are going to remain sober. I will not have you disgrace Mum by falling down drunk as we lay her to rest. Do you understand?’

Alfred Hunter gazed up at his son with tortured eyes. ‘I won’t disgrace her or you.’

‘Good. Now, I know it won’t be easy for you because you’ve been permanently drunk since you arrived home, but I’ll help you through the next week. After that you are on your own.’

‘I have tried, really I have . . . I’m sorry, son.’

‘It’s too late for apologies.’ Bob took some coins out of his pocket and put them on the table. ‘That should get you through the week, but it’s the last I’ll be giving you.’ Then he left the scullery and made his way upstairs to try and get some sleep. He had done all he could for the moment.

The morning of the funeral dawned bright and warm, and Bob was grateful for the sunshine. If it had been a gloomy day it would have made everything even more upsetting.

Steve walked into the scullery. ‘Where is he, Bob?’

‘Still in bed, and I was about to drag him out. I don’t think he had quite as much to drink last night as he usually does, but I doubt he will be completely sober this morning.’

Steve nodded, his expression grim. ‘Come on, lad, I’ll give you a hand. We’ll manage him between us.’

‘Thanks.’

Alfred Hunter was up, washed and dressed without a murmur. With Bob on one side of him and Steve on the other they arrived at the church without mishap.

During the service and at the graveside, Alf pushed aside their restraining hands and stood unaided, tears rolling silently down his cheeks. Bob didn’t dare look at him or his anger would rise again, and this was no place for such emotions. He needed to remember his mum with love in his heart. She had been so brave.

Daisy and Ruth had prepared sandwiches, cakes and tea for the neighbours and friends who had attended. Both parents had been only children, so there weren’t any close relatives, but it had been a good turnout. Helen had been well liked and quite a few had come to pay their respects.

It had been a simple funeral, but a dignified one, and Bob was immensely grateful to the Coopers. Finally the last person left, and Bob sat at the table, giving a huge sigh of relief. Everything had gone well and the old man had made an effort, talking to people and remaining on his feet.

Steve Cooper gathered his family together. ‘Time to go. Bob will want to be on his own now.’

Bob gave him a grateful look. ‘Where is he?’

‘Asleep in the armchair,’ Daisy told him. ‘I should leave him there, Bob, he’s exhausted. And so are you. Try and get some rest.’

He nodded wearily. ‘I’ll try. Thank you for all your help. You’ve been wonderful.’

Steve gripped his shoulder for a moment, and then herded his family out of the door.

When he was finally alone, Bob rested his head in his hands and cried for the first time that day. After a while he dried his eyes and put the kettle on to make a strong cup of tea, feeling better now he’d let his sorrow come out. He’d been bottling it up ever since his mum had died.

Holding a fresh cup of tea between his hands he took a deep breath. All he had been able to think about was getting through the funeral, but now that was over it was time to make some decisions.

After draining the cup he stood up and went to the front room. The man asleep in the armchair seemed like a stranger to him, and he felt pity when he remembered the vital man who had once been his dad. But pity wasn’t going to do either of them any good. He knew the only way he was going to find peace again was to forgive the worry and sadness this man had caused his mother. But at the moment he couldn’t do that. Perhaps one day, but not now.

‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve done all I can for him. It’s now time for me to move on.’

Four

Robert Hunter closed the door of the house he had called home, and fighting back the crippling sadness that threatened to tear him apart, he walked up the street. He’d loved his dad, but the man who had returned from the war had changed beyond recognition. Now Bob only felt contempt for the man who had caused his gentle mother so much pain.

‘Bob!’

Ignoring the call he kept going, his step never faltering. He had made up his mind and no one was going to turn him back. The decision had been hard because it meant leaving everything he was familiar with, and that included good friends and neighbours . . .

‘Where are you going?’ Ruth caught his arm, looking anxiously at the bundle he had tied with string and slung over his shoulder.

He shook off the restraining hand, being sharper than he should, but it was the only way he was going to hold on to his composure. He had been desperately hoping no one would see him so that he could slip away unnoticed. ‘I’m leaving,’ he said simply.

Tears filled Ruth’s eyes. ‘You don’t need to do that. Mum said you could come and live with us if you’d rather not live in the same house as your dad.’

‘Don’t be daft!’ he snapped. ‘You haven’t got enough room for me. Your house is full and she has quite enough people to look after as it is.’

‘We’d make room,’ she pleaded. ‘And you’d still be close enough to keep an eye on your dad. He needs you, Bob.’

‘No!’ He felt rotten when he saw her face crumple. She didn’t deserve to be spoken to like this. Hell, he sounded just like his old man, and that was something he must never do. ‘Your mum’s a kind woman, Ruth. You thank her for me, but I can’t stay. I’ve got to try and make something of myself.’ Bob’s mouth set in a grim line as he looked at the row of squalid houses. ‘I’m not going to end up like my old man who can’t face the world sober.’

‘He’s a troubled man—’

‘That’s no excuse. So are lots of other people.’ Bob’s voice came out in a snarl. ‘Mum would still be alive today if he’d stayed away from the drink and found a job. She was dreadfully ill, and he didn’t even notice. He can take care of himself now!’

‘We all know how bad things have been.’ Ruth touched his arm in sympathy. ‘But you’ve got friends here who will help and support you. If you leave you’ll be on your own. Where will you go? What will you do?’

‘I’ll be all right.’ He straightened up, trying to appear confident, his grey eyes hooded to hide his emotions. ‘I’m strong and can do any kind of heavy work. I’ll move around, picking up jobs where I can.’

‘Have you got any money?’ Ruth delved into her pocket and held out two pennies.

‘No, Ruth.’ He backed away. ‘I’ve got enough. I can’t take your money.’

‘I want you to have it.’ She stepped forward and thrust the coins into his large hand. ‘You can pay me back when you’re rich and famous.’

He smiled then. ‘All right, Ruthie. You’ll get it back with interest, and that’s a promise.’

‘And you make sure you bring it yourself.’

‘I will.’ Bob looked at his little friend with affection. He knew she had been doing jobs for neighbours so she could earn enough to buy herself a badly needed winter coat, but she was the kind of girl who always put other people first. ‘You’re a fine girl, Ruth, and with your dark hair and hazel eyes, you’ll be real pretty when you’ve grown a bit.’

BOOK: Battles Lost and Won
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