Bia's War (31 page)

In the kitchen, Victoria
prepared lunch for her parents and then put Nana’s cup of tea and a
shortbread biscuit on a tray, ready to carry them upstairs.

“Still listening to her stories,
then?” Her mother growled as she took her place at the table to eat
her lunch. Victoria’s head was so full of the bombardment of the
docks and of the deaths of Simon and Peter that she hardly heard
what her mother said. She nodded vaguely in her direction and then
left the kitchen, so intent on getting back upstairs for the last
part of the story that she didn’t hear her mother’s comment as she
left the room, but was vaguely aware that her father had spoken as
well.

“Leave the lass alone, Bia.” Her
father said. “She’s caring for her grandmother and that’s a good
thing. There’s not many her age would have the kindness and
patience that she’s got.”

Bia merely grunted into her
teacup, not bothering to waste her energy on an argument that
wouldn’t give her any satisfaction, but she resolved to ask her
mother what she had wanted to see Mr Vine for, she was unlikely to
get any information from her daughter.

In Nana Lymer’s bedroom,
Victoria had to help her grandmother to lift the cup to her lips.
She seemed to be rapidly running out of energy and strength and
Victoria wanted to call the doctor, although Nana Lymer refused her
offer.

“I’ll do, lass. There’s nothing
wrong with me that a good night’s sleep won’t cure. Leave doctors
for folk that need them. I don’t. Let me finish the story and then
I’ll sleep better than I’ve done for years.”

There was nothing that Victoria
could say that would make her change her mind so, in the end, she
capitulated and resumed her seat next to the bed.

“Sam, Annie and I didn’t go to
bed that night. The girls were all snuggled in together in Hannah’s
room, so we left them alone, not wanting to spoil their sleep with
bad news. We three spent what little of the night that remained,
sitting in the kitchen next to the range and going over all that
had happened. It didn’t make any difference to the outcome, but we
all felt the need to reiterate certain points and quiz the other
two about certain events, as though talking about it would make it
easier to bear. It didn’t, but we each attempted it.”

“Sam went off to work and Annie
and I opened the shop as usual. It was an unspoken agreement
between us to open the shop, but I think it was the best thing we
could have done. We would eventually have to face our customers and
our neighbours and it was sensible to do it as soon as possible,
before any of us got cold feet. We were prepared for the curiosity
that would inevitably be part of meeting any neighbour or customer,
but I wasn’t prepared for the kindness and empathy shown us by all
who came into the shop that day and for months afterwards. Some
people were uncomfortable, having to talk to two recently bereaved
women, but most were very understanding and I did gain strength
from knowing that so many people were genuinely feeling such
sympathy for me and Annie.”

“Right from that first day, it
was obvious that everyone accepted the story that the pig butcher
and William were looking for a burglar in the warehouse and they
commiserated with me that Simon happened to be with his father that
night. No-one even suggested that there might be something strange
about William and Dennison being together, because I don’t think it
was widely known that they disliked each other. It seemed that the
tale of Young Dennison’s death hadn’t been spread among the general
population so nobody put two and two together and made five, a
situation which made life a lot easier for me.”

“The fact that so many people
had been killed on that same night meant that the whole town was
grieving because everyone was so directly connected to at least one
person who had died. This meant that when I could no longer hold
down my grief, no-one seemed at all surprised when I dissolved into
tears while slicing ham or pouring a pint of vinegar and people
tried to comfort me with hugs and their own tears when anyone found
me doing it. One and all agreed that it was probably ‘the best
thing’ for us to try and carry on by opening the shop and I must
admit having to serve customers stopped me dwelling on the events
of the previous night and probably stopped me from going mad.”

“We had told the three girls the
whitewashed tale of what had happened the night before when they
all came downstairs the next morning. They weren’t as closely
involved as us, of course, although the deaths of Simon and Peter
hit Hannah very hard. She tried to be a brave little trouper and
declared that she was ‘fine’ when I caught her crying as she mixed
the pastry for some pies, but the flour mixed with tears on her
face belied her words. She forgot how to be happy and didn’t sing
as she went about her work and it was heart-breaking to see her so
depressed and miserable. She missed Simon a great deal, because
they had played together so much when she was working in the
kitchen but she also missed Peter as well and I often saw her raise
her head in hope if she heard a deep voice in the shop. I think
their deaths reminded her of the death of her mother and she
grieved twice over every day. I fervently hoped that she would find
joy in her life again soon because the world had lost one of its
angels while she was wrapped in sorrow.”

“The next few weeks passed in a
blur to me. There were countless questions asked by the authorities
as they tried to piece together all that had happened that night
along the riverside. We learned that Middlesbrough hadn’t been the
only town attacked by the Hun that night. The same group of ships
had also bombarded Scarborough and Hartlepool, causing an equal
amount of damage and destruction and devastation in both those
towns. The loss of life in all three places had been horrendous and
the attacks were pointed out as an example of the barbarism of the
German nation for attacking unarmed civilians.”

“We learned that the Royal Navy
had launched ships to counter-attack the Hun and try and sink or
capture the ships which had done so much damage to the North
Eastern coast, and I believe they did have some success, although
their sailors lost their lives as well as our civilians that night.
Because so many people had been killed and because most people were
so shocked that we could be attacked in our own homes, we didn’t
stand out amongst the townsfolk at having lost so many of our
little family. The deaths of William, Simon, Peter and the pig
butcher weren’t discussed endlessly by the town gossips, because
they had so much ‘material’ to discuss, so no-one probed too deeply
into their deaths and discovered facts that we didn’t want
uncovering. Their deaths were only a handful amongst many, or as
Sammy put it, four more trees in that dreadful forest and, as so,
unremarkable.”

“There was an inquest into all
the deaths that had occurred that night, originally intended as
separate, independent inquests for each death, but it soon became
apparent that that way was unworkable, so it became a combined
inquest for all the dead. It was dealt with with great sensitivity
and the combined result was that all had died as the result of
enemy action. Death certificates were issued and, eventually,
everything settled back down to its normal wartime pattern and the
town moved on, still mourning its losses, but facing them
resolutely.”

“I awoke every morning to the
fresh realisation that Simon was dead. Sometimes I remembered
immediately on waking, so that the knowledge was with me before I
had chance to draw some strength into me, other times it was a
while before my brain was limber enough to process the information
but, whether I realised immediately or remembered after a few
moments, each realisation was like learning of his death all over
again. I got to the point where I tried not to sleep, so that I
wouldn’t have to wake up and go through the whole experience again,
seeing him dead on the warehouse floor. My body invariably defeated
me and I fell into an exhausted sleep every night.”

“But I was so lucky at that
time, in the people I had who surrounded me and gave me the
strength to carry on with everyday life. Annie was much stronger
than I in how she coped with Peter’s death and she helped me live
through that terrible time in the few weeks after their deaths. She
often caught me sitting next to the embers of the fire late at
night, trying desperately not to go to sleep so that I wouldn’t
have to wake the next morning and have the realisation of Simon’s
death to live through again. She would make hot drinks for us both
and we would sit and talk about our boys, remembering things they
had done and, eventually, smiling at our memories instead of crying
over them.”

“I saw on Annie’s face the same
sorrow that I could see in my own, on the rare occasions when I
looked in a mirror. It was the same sorrow and anguish which was on
the faces of all the people in our town who had lost loved ones in
the bombardment or whose boys had died at the Front. It was a cruel
world at that time, with so many people feeling this great sadness
and that was when I lost my belief in any god. I know many people
turned to the Church at that time and it helped them battle through
to the end but I turned against it and after William and Simon’s
funerals, I didn’t set foot in either church or chapel ever
again.”

“That time was the only time in
my life when I didn’t know if I could cope with what life was
throwing at me basically because I didn’t have control over events,
I didn’t make the decisions. All I could do was flounder along in
the wake of this flood of horrendous happenings and try and cope as
best I may. It made me feel insignificant and weak and incapable of
ever being able to make a decision about my life ever again. I was
constantly waiting for the next horrible event to happen and I
couldn’t get rid of the feeling that the Sword of Damocles was
swinging noisily over my head, all day every day, and I didn’t know
when, or why, it would fall. Perhaps I’ve always been a basically
weak person, I don’t know, but I do know that living with the
constant daily fear of disaster is extremely exhausting. If it
hadn’t been for Sam, encouraging me to eat when I didn’t have any
appetite and reading aloud to me to calm me, I do believe that I
would have gone under at that time.”

“All through those terrible
days, Sam was at my side. He supported me both physically and
emotionally, whenever I looked as though I was faltering he was
there, urging me forever onwards until, eventually, with his and
Annie’s help, I stopped wishing I had died along with my child and
I turned my face towards the future once again.”

Chapter Fifteen

Nana Lymer stopped speaking and
Victoria realised that she had fallen asleep, even though she was
still sitting upright, propped against her pillows. She tried to
slide her down so that she could rest more comfortably but her body
seemed almost wedged somewhere, so this was no easy manoeuvre. As
Victoria was watching her, trying to think of some way to be able
to move her without waking her up, Nana’s eyes opened sluggishly
and she slid herself quite easily down into the bed.

“I’ll finish the story tomorrow,
Victoria,” she whispered, before she turned over and made herself
comfortable under the covers.

Victoria was more concerned than
she had ever been before about the state of Nana’s health. She had
never seen her so frail and tired and she briefly wondered if she
was coming down with some sort of bug.

“Please don’t let it be that she
is exhausted from reliving her experiences during the First World
War.” Victoria didn’t think that she could cope with being the
reason for her grandmother being ill. She would never forgive
herself if Nana died because Victoria wanted to hear the story of
her life; that would be unbearable. She resolved to keep an extra
special eye on her grandmother the next day and to stop her from
finishing the story if she looked at all tired.

Once again, Victoria’s mother
made no complaint when Victoria said she intended spending the day
with Nana Lymer again. She didn’t react in any way other than
raising her eyes above her teacup as she drank her tea and glancing
at her daughter. Victoria took this unspoken communication as leave
to spend her day however she chose, so she quickly finished her
toast and washed the pots which were waiting on the draining board,
before making her exit from the kitchen. Her mother ignored her
completely, but her father winked at her as she passed him on her
way to the hall and staircase.

Nana Lymer was awake and sitting
up in bed when Victoria entered her bedroom, finishing her own
breakfast.

“I’ll just take your pots
downstairs and wash them, and then I’ll be straight back up.”
Victoria said.

“Ok. Then I’ve got a story to
finish telling you. We should get through the rest of it today and
then it doesn’t matter if I peg it tomorrow.” The old lady smiled
at Victoria, ignoring the frown that her words had produced on her
granddaughter’s forehead. Within minutes, Victoria was back in Nana
Lymer’s bedroom, making herself comfortable on the chair next to
the bed.

“Before you ask, I’m as healthy
as anyone my age can expect to be, so there’s no need for you to
worry about me.” Nana Lymer smiled at the expression on Victoria’s
face. “If I wasn’t well enough I would let you know, so let’s just
get on with the story, shall we?”

“Ok, I give in.” Victoria said,
raising her hands in submission.

“Good. Once I had decided that I
wasn’t going to try and join Simon by killing myself, I turned my
face towards the future and that was when Mrs Dennison came to see
me. She turned up in the shop one rainy Wednesday afternoon,
shaking the raindrops from her shawl and asked Hannah if she could
have a word with me. I was in the kitchen with the door open into
the shop so I heard her voice as soon as she spoke. Hannah’s face
appeared at the open doorway and she raised her eyebrows as she
tilted her head towards Mrs Dennison. I carried on making the fresh
batch of ginger beer that I had started but nodded my agreement at
Hannah and she went and brought Mrs Dennison into the kitchen. I
watched her enter the room with some trepidation. Was she going to
accuse me of murdering her husband? Could she possibly have some
idea of what had happened that night? I went cold through to my
bones, but then shook myself mentally over my guilty conscience and
civilly asked her what I could do for her. Her answer to my
question knocked me for six.