that is. Right feisty little bugger. Look at the way he’s chasing Goebbels about.’
‘Goebbels?’
‘The scrawny little one over there.’
‘And that fat one?’
‘That’s Goering. Go on Churchill, shove the bastard out of the way.’
The fat little piglet squealed and scurried away behind the sty.
‘So when are they taking you away?’ said Alfred.
‘They said they’d write to let me know.’
‘Your mother’s very upset.’
‘Not as upset as you, I bet.’
‘She hides it better, Jacob, that’s all. She’s barely slept all week, knowing you were going back there. Why don’t you go up and see her? Go on now, she’s in the bedroom.’
Jacob went in the door and up the narrow stairs and he paused on the landing and heard his mother breathing
‘Come in, Jacob.’
‘How did you know it was me?’
‘I know my son’s footsteps after all these years.’
Jacob went in and sat on the bed next to his mother.
‘Jacob, I want you to know that I understand. I understand why you’re going and I’m proud of you. I’ll miss you like heaven-knows-what, but I know you’re doing what is right.’
‘You’re not angry with me, then?’
‘How could I be angry with you?’
‘Father is.’
‘He’s worried, Jacob, that’s the thing. He’s afraid he’ll lose you, and William too.’
‘Is William coming soon?’
‘He wrote to say he has some leave after Christmas.’
‘Let’s hope I see him before I go, then.’
1941
William arrived for three days’ leave in early February. The snow had stopped but the ground was white from January’s heavy falls and ice placed its chill hand around the countryside and closed its fingers so that by day the fields never lost their hoar frost and the nights set hard and in the morning when Jacob and William collected Rose from the cottage across the lane, and they went together across the field that led down to Pool Meadow, the grass crunched like glass beneath their feet and the tops of the trees were lost in the mist and the calls of the rooks hung ownerless in a void. The shallow pond in the valley had frozen hard and they took off their shoes and laced up the old boots they kept in the loft with the screw-in skates. Rose went first, skimming away across the pond, first on one leg, then the other. She turned half-way across and called back to Jacob and William, indistinct figures now in the mist.
‘Come on you two, get a move on!’
Her voice echoed up the valley. She laughed and skated further out across the pond.
‘She’s lovely, isn’t she?’ said Jacob to William, as he helped his brother up onto his skates.
‘Oh yes,’ said William. ‘She is that.’
They set off behind Rose towards the far side of the pond where the tips of trees hung trapped in the ice. She smiled as they reached her and she stretched out her hand to steady Jacob as he stopped. William skated past and Rose put her hand on Jacob’s shoulder, then pulled him gently towards her and as she hugged him she whispered in his ear.
‘I’ll miss you, Jacob,’ she said in a voice barely audible. ‘You must come back to me.’
‘I haven’t gone away yet,’ he said.
She kissed him gently on the cheek, then took his hand and led him off in the direction that William had gone.
***
Jacob spent two more months at home. Then the letter came and he left for an aircrew reception centre in North Yorkshire. He saw the row of Nissen huts adrift in a tide of unrelenting mud and negotiated a path along duckboards that led from the road to the dormitory huts and from there to the gym and the classroom block and the mess. A rat-faced man showed Jacob to his bunk half-way down a row of twenty beds, another twenty opposite.
‘Hello,’ said a pale young voice two beds further down the row. ‘Harry Pollock.’
‘Jacob Arbuckle. Nice to meet you.’
‘Pleasant here, isn’t it? The glamour of the RAF.’
‘When did you get here?’
‘Lunchtime. I’ve already sampled the
‘Goebbels?’
‘The scrawny little one over there.’
‘And that fat one?’
‘That’s Goering. Go on Churchill, shove the bastard out of the way.’
The fat little piglet squealed and scurried away behind the sty.
‘So when are they taking you away?’ said Alfred.
‘They said they’d write to let me know.’
‘Your mother’s very upset.’
‘Not as upset as you, I bet.’
‘She hides it better, Jacob, that’s all. She’s barely slept all week, knowing you were going back there. Why don’t you go up and see her? Go on now, she’s in the bedroom.’
Jacob went in the door and up the narrow stairs and he paused on the landing and heard his mother breathing
‘Come in, Jacob.’
‘How did you know it was me?’
‘I know my son’s footsteps after all these years.’
Jacob went in and sat on the bed next to his mother.
‘Jacob, I want you to know that I understand. I understand why you’re going and I’m proud of you. I’ll miss you like heaven-knows-what, but I know you’re doing what is right.’
‘You’re not angry with me, then?’
‘How could I be angry with you?’
‘Father is.’
‘He’s worried, Jacob, that’s the thing. He’s afraid he’ll lose you, and William too.’
‘Is William coming soon?’
‘He wrote to say he has some leave after Christmas.’
‘Let’s hope I see him before I go, then.’
1941
William arrived for three days’ leave in early February. The snow had stopped but the ground was white from January’s heavy falls and ice placed its chill hand around the countryside and closed its fingers so that by day the fields never lost their hoar frost and the nights set hard and in the morning when Jacob and William collected Rose from the cottage across the lane, and they went together across the field that led down to Pool Meadow, the grass crunched like glass beneath their feet and the tops of the trees were lost in the mist and the calls of the rooks hung ownerless in a void. The shallow pond in the valley had frozen hard and they took off their shoes and laced up the old boots they kept in the loft with the screw-in skates. Rose went first, skimming away across the pond, first on one leg, then the other. She turned half-way across and called back to Jacob and William, indistinct figures now in the mist.
‘Come on you two, get a move on!’
Her voice echoed up the valley. She laughed and skated further out across the pond.
‘She’s lovely, isn’t she?’ said Jacob to William, as he helped his brother up onto his skates.
‘Oh yes,’ said William. ‘She is that.’
They set off behind Rose towards the far side of the pond where the tips of trees hung trapped in the ice. She smiled as they reached her and she stretched out her hand to steady Jacob as he stopped. William skated past and Rose put her hand on Jacob’s shoulder, then pulled him gently towards her and as she hugged him she whispered in his ear.
‘I’ll miss you, Jacob,’ she said in a voice barely audible. ‘You must come back to me.’
‘I haven’t gone away yet,’ he said.
She kissed him gently on the cheek, then took his hand and led him off in the direction that William had gone.
***
Jacob spent two more months at home. Then the letter came and he left for an aircrew reception centre in North Yorkshire. He saw the row of Nissen huts adrift in a tide of unrelenting mud and negotiated a path along duckboards that led from the road to the dormitory huts and from there to the gym and the classroom block and the mess. A rat-faced man showed Jacob to his bunk half-way down a row of twenty beds, another twenty opposite.
‘Hello,’ said a pale young voice two beds further down the row. ‘Harry Pollock.’
‘Jacob Arbuckle. Nice to meet you.’
‘Pleasant here, isn’t it? The glamour of the RAF.’
‘When did you get here?’
‘Lunchtime. I’ve already sampled the
Similar Books
