In Spite of Everything
by Charles Lacey
Chapter 10
Aiden
At last! I thought. I had been granted two weeks' home leave. I'd been with an RAMC unit in France. The Germans were fighting back ferociously, though the Allied forces were advancing steadily. But there was still a good deal of work for medical staff. To my sorrow, Major Harding had left and gone back to civilian work as a surgeon. But Captain Colston, his replacement, was competent enough, though he did things 'by the book' which meant that medical procedures I had been unofficially allowed to do under Major Harding were now performed only by qualified men. It made for a much less interesting life. But I was going on leave, and the thought of seeing Paul again drove every other thought from my mind. He'd managed to wangle a week's leave – he had been seconded from the Army to some kind of strange secret place in the Home Counties – but we were to have a week together at his Grannie's house in Derby.
I got out of the train and Paul did not see me at first; the sight of one of his eyes was still very limited due to a retinal detachment caused by the explosion. But I saw him and hurried over to him. In those days Englishmen did not greet one another with more than a handshake. But the moment we were alone in Paul's bedroom our arms were round one another. I saw tears in his eyes and I have to admit that there were some in mine too. We dabbed at each other with our handkerchiefs, laughed and embraced again before going through to the sitting room.
Paul's Grannie was the sweetest old lady you can imagine. She was rather small, slightly plump despite wartime rationing, with snow-white hair and dark eyes. Her manner was brisk and she had a way of putting her head on one side while looking at you that reminded me of a bird. And she was nobody's fool. She had me summed up in moments. I could see the question in her face: Was I good enough for her Paul? By the end of an hour, she had her answer: Yes. And from that point onwards, I was to call her Grannie, and I was to come and stay as often and for as long as I liked. She even sent us to bed early on that first night. "I'm sure you must both be tired after your long journeys," she said, "have an early night. Sleep well, my dears."
Paul had managed to find a mattress which he had put on the floor in his bedroom. He insisted that he would sleep on the mattress, and I would have his bed. It felt wonderfully intimate, sleeping in the bed which he usually occupied. We undressed together with no sense of embarrassment. Of course I had seen Paul naked countless times when I was looking after him, but this was the first time he had seen me. I noticed him looking at me attentively! We put on pyjamas, and exchanged a tender and loving kiss before getting into our beds.
We were both dead tired, and we slept through that night. The next day we helped Grannie with some gardening and then went for a walk. Paul showed me the place where he had worked before it was bombed. It was clear to me that he was still very bitter over that. As I understood it, the bomb had not only destroyed the timber yard and the workshop but killed the man he worked for and his wife; Paul seemed to have been very fond of them. That night we again exchanged a kiss before going to bed, and dropped off quite quickly. But I woke in the small hours. I lay there for perhaps twenty minutes, listening to Paul's steady breathing, and the small sounds from the street outside. And then I heard Paul's breathing change, and knew he was awake.
"Paul?" I whispered.
"Yes. Are you awake too?"
Nothing in the world could have stopped me from doing what I did then. I got out of bed, crossed to where Paul was lying on the mattress on the floor, lifted his top sheet and blanket and got in beside him. "Turn over," I whispered, "so you have your back to me." He did so, and I slid my arms around him, drawing his body into the curve of my own. It was a mighty tight fit, the two of us together, but the warmth and intimacy were wonderful. Paul dropped off to sleep again quickly, but exaltation of spirit kept me wakeful for a while. Eventually I, too, slept and in the morning we found that we had turned over and Paul was holding me.
That was a marvellous week. We never spoke of it, but by the end of the week we knew beyond any possible doubt that we would be spending the rest of our lives together. For the time being, though, the war was still on and our duties called. I had another week's leave which I would spend at home, since Paul had to return to his mysterious unit. He had signed the Official Secrets Act which meant that if he revealed anything about his work, even where it was, he could be court-martialled and shot for treason!
After I left Paul I came back to Ainsworth Hall. I was met by my sisters at the kitchen door who were obviously bursting with some news, but wouldn't let on what it was. I went in; Mrs May was in the kitchen. She greeted me warmly as usual, but seemed to be holding something back. Then Mum came in, and we sat down at the kitchen table. Mrs May made a pot of tea and brought out one of her scrumptious fruit cakes. Goodness knew where she got things like dried fruit and sugar, which were still rationed. Mum asked about my Army life, and then she asked after Paul. Then she said, "Aiden, I have some news. I hope you will think it's good news."
I sat, listening expectantly.
"George's uncle has died and left him a house and some money, so he can retire. He's going to sell the house and buy a cottage near here. And… and, well, he and I are going to be married."
For a moment I was all at sea, and then I remembered that Mr Tootell's Christian name was George. Well, he was a decent old stick, and I'd always liked him, so I got up from the table and gave Mum a kiss and said, "I hope you'll be very happy together." A couple of minutes later Mr Tootell came in – I think they had timed it pretty carefully – and I got up again and shook his hand and congratulated him. But of course it did mean that once they left the Hall I'd no longer have a room there. Mr Tootell – (it took a long time for me to get used to calling him George) did say that they would have a spare room and I would be welcome at any time, but Paul's Grannie had also said that I could stay with them as often and for as long as I liked, so this was not a cause for anxiety. I didn't have a lot of possessions at the Hall anyway, just some clothes and a few books and one or two small things from my childhood.
We drank our tea and ate a slice of cake each, and then the bell rang. Betty went up to answer it, but came down to say that Sir Russell wanted to see me.
He was as kind as ever, was Sir Russell, though he had aged a good deal. He asked after my Army career (he had served with great distinction in the Great War, reaching the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel). He asked after my health, and how I felt about my mother marrying Mr Tootell. I was able to reassure him there. And in fact once the initial surprise wore off, I was genuinely happy for her. She was getting no younger, and this would give her a permanent home with a husband who I knew would be kind and generous.
We discussed my University prospects. My experience in the RAMC had altered my mind radically. I no longer wanted to be a teacher, but hoped to become a doctor. I knew I would never be anything like the man Major Harding was, but if I could be just an ordinary hospital doctor, I'd be satisfied. But, Sir Russell explained, the wartime taxation had eaten into his capital, and he could no longer afford to pay my University fees, certainly not for the length of time it would take for me to complete medical training.
I felt deeply for Sir Russell and Lady Hanbury. They had, as they saw it, a duty to look after their staff, despite the privations caused by the war and the enormous increase in taxation. And so they sold the Rolls-Royce and the other big car and bought a small one, an Austin Ten which Sir Russell learned to drive himself. I was able to help him there as I had been taught by the Army. They sold their horses, including Lady Hanbury's riding horse which she loved dearly. They even sold off part of the estate to a local farmer. From this point of view it was a good thing that George Tootell and Mum were going to leave, as it meant that the Hanburys could just afford to keep on the remaining staff: two housemaids, Mrs May and one gardener. All the other male staff had joined the Forces, of course, when the War began. But financially I would be on my own. Poor Sir Russell was dreadfully embarrassed but there was nothing to be done about it.
So I went to Liverpool, to the University to see what could be managed. They were encouraging; there were County Council grants to cover fees and very basic living expenses. They had kept my place open to train as a teacher. With a heavy heart, I accepted that I would have to do that. But I remembered Mr Leyburn at St Anselm's; he always seemed happy and cheery enough. And, I reflected, there were advantages to a teacher's life: long holidays and regular hours. I desperately wished Paul were there with me.
But there was still nearly a year of the war to run, and I had to go back to my unit. Little by little we were pushing our way towards the heart of all the mischief: Berlin. It amazed me that the Germans still thought it was worth their while to fight on. But I wasn't reckoning on Hitler's egomaniac personality: he just refused to believe that the war was, as far as the Germans were concerned, lost. And so he lurked in his bunker underneath thick reinforced concrete below the streets of Berlin, issuing mad orders to keep resisting. It wasn't until the very end, when the British, the Americans and the Russians were all in Berlin that he finally gave up. Even then, he could not accept defeat, but took his own life and that of his wife.
Berlin was a desert. Ragged women and children foraged in the rubble for anything they could eat or sell. But I was not there for more than a few days, because my unit, under Captain Colston, was moved to the north of Germany, where American and British forces had entered the concentration camp at Bergen-Belsen. No-one who was not there could believe what we found. Mr Dimbleby of the BBC was there, and he recorded a broadcast that went out in April.
Bit by bit, the horrors caused by Hitler and his gang of thugs came to light. I have never seen men so angry as those troops that went in and saw for themselves the state that the prisoners were in, and I have seldom seen such gentle kindness and concern as they showed to the starving, in many cases dying, prisoners. I was there to do a job as part of Captain Colston's team, and I did it, I hope thoroughly and with compassion, but I longed for home, and most of all for the comfort of being with Paul. I remember well the day when I got back to Derby. Grannie later told me that she had never seen such pain in a man's eyes as she did in mine.
That night, Paul held me in his arms as I wept. I thanked God for him, and it is due to him that I was able to face going back to finish the job. We weren't meant to get too close to the prisoners, but I became very friendly with a young Polish man, Jan Kowalczik, who had been imprisoned because he loved another young man. They had had to wear pink triangles stitched to their clothing, and the Germans treated them if anything even worse than they treated the Jews. His friend had been killed, just shot at random by a German guard, and Jan was so close to death that it still amazes me that he survived. But survive he did, and eventually went back to Krakow, where he had come from, and he met another man. They live together still, and in 1949 Jan and Krzystof came over to stay with us for a week. We still write to one another and exchange birthday and Christmas cards.
But the war was dragging on towards its end. I spent VE-Day working in a hospital in Berlin, longing to get back to Paul and to England. It took some time, but eventually I was 'demobbed' and returned to Derby. George Tootell had bought a little house in a village just outside the city and he and Mum seemed very happy there. I stayed with them for a few days, but Paul and I needed to be together. He too had been released from the Army and was working as a 'chippy' for a building firm. It would take many years to repair all the damage caused by the war, and men who could help with reconstruction were in short supply. While Paul would rather have been making beautiful furniture, at least he had a job which was reasonably well paid, and was doing useful work. But he told me with some glee that most joiners have their own personal mark that they leave somewhere in each house that they work on. There are a good many houses around Derby that have Paul's personal mark somewhere on their timbers. It consists of the letters A and P in a heart shape.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
