If it wasn’t a bus it was a taxi or a train seat or the very fact of daring to be with a white girl in a country with no colour bar. It was an incongruous gesture mirroring a similar thought, but he couldn’t help shaking his head and grinning. It was fifty-fifty as to what would happen next.
The clippie pushed at his chest. ‘Get off of my bus!’
Although looking surprised at the outburst, Noble stood rigid, his brows a straight line above his beetle black eyes. ‘That nigger should be giving me his seat!’
Suddenly the clippie seemed to swell to twice her size.
‘Well, he bloody well ain’t, is he? This is my bus and we’ll ’ave none of that nonsense!’
The two civilians at the bus stop grabbed Noble from behind so he couldn’t help but topple backwards. A man got up from a seat and pushed through to form a barrier with another man out on the platform.
Noble was left struggling on the pavement, the two civilians, obviously veterans of boot camp themselves, holding onto him.
As the bus moved off, the clippie held onto the pole at the rear and leaned out at an angle. ‘And if I see you again, even if I ’aven’t got one bloody soul on this bus, I ain’t letting the likes of you on it!’
A cheer went up.
‘Bleeding ’ell, your mate’s enough to make anybody swear,’ she said to Aaron as she squeezed by.
Laughter rippled from one end of the bus to the other.
Aaron grabbed her arm. ‘He’s not my mate,’ he said quietly.
‘No,’ she said, ‘he’s a bastard!’
She left him open mouthed.
‘Any more fares please!’ she shouted, then, ‘Move yer ass. Let me get through.’
Aaron stared down at his hands again, wishing he was back home or at least with the same guys he’d been with when he’d first volunteered to fight for his country. As the bus rattled on he thought about when he’d had sergeant’s stripes. They’d lasted until he’d said outright what was in his mind, that the US High Command were a bunch of hypocrites. He had accused them of something they had no wish to face up to. Why was the US army a segregated army when it was fighting a war against a race that regarded itself as superior to all others? Could someone tell him what the difference was?
No one could, so he’d lost a stripe and got himself a beating plus relocation as a guard to a Prisoner of War camp.
‘I’m sure them Krauts will appreciate having you there seeing as there are not too many Jews around these parts!’
Some guys had thought it funny. They’d laughed, but he hadn’t cared. He’d thought he could handle it. And he would have done, too, if there’d been other black guys there. Instead, he was alone among whites. He had a room on his own, he ate on his own. The civilian staff that came in intermittently were his only respite, they and the prisoners.
The main bugbear was Mickey Noble. He was mean as a rattlesnake with just as small a brain, except for his memory that is. Noble, like an elephant, never forgot a perceived wrong.
Chapter Seven
IT WAS THE Saturday before Christmas and Edna was alone when another parcel arrived.
For a while she stared at it, longing to rip it open and fondle its contents. She also longed to write to him, but simply didn’t have the courage.
When she could no longer face the parcel or her own cowardice, she reached for her coat and rushed out of the door.
She was going to marry Colin. Her son, Sherman, was going for adoption. Everything would be for the best and Colin need never know.
She ran down the avenue, her tears under control by the time she reached Colin’s house. Charlotte’s car was parked outside; no doubt she was once again checking on the progress of the toy Colin was making Geoffrey for Christmas. Well, that was fine. She could do with the company of someone who always seemed brave and able to cope with everyone else’s troubles.
Charlotte beamed at her the moment she entered the room . ‘Edna, darling. Look at this. Isn’t it
The clippie pushed at his chest. ‘Get off of my bus!’
Although looking surprised at the outburst, Noble stood rigid, his brows a straight line above his beetle black eyes. ‘That nigger should be giving me his seat!’
Suddenly the clippie seemed to swell to twice her size.
‘Well, he bloody well ain’t, is he? This is my bus and we’ll ’ave none of that nonsense!’
The two civilians at the bus stop grabbed Noble from behind so he couldn’t help but topple backwards. A man got up from a seat and pushed through to form a barrier with another man out on the platform.
Noble was left struggling on the pavement, the two civilians, obviously veterans of boot camp themselves, holding onto him.
As the bus moved off, the clippie held onto the pole at the rear and leaned out at an angle. ‘And if I see you again, even if I ’aven’t got one bloody soul on this bus, I ain’t letting the likes of you on it!’
A cheer went up.
‘Bleeding ’ell, your mate’s enough to make anybody swear,’ she said to Aaron as she squeezed by.
Laughter rippled from one end of the bus to the other.
Aaron grabbed her arm. ‘He’s not my mate,’ he said quietly.
‘No,’ she said, ‘he’s a bastard!’
She left him open mouthed.
‘Any more fares please!’ she shouted, then, ‘Move yer ass. Let me get through.’
Aaron stared down at his hands again, wishing he was back home or at least with the same guys he’d been with when he’d first volunteered to fight for his country. As the bus rattled on he thought about when he’d had sergeant’s stripes. They’d lasted until he’d said outright what was in his mind, that the US High Command were a bunch of hypocrites. He had accused them of something they had no wish to face up to. Why was the US army a segregated army when it was fighting a war against a race that regarded itself as superior to all others? Could someone tell him what the difference was?
No one could, so he’d lost a stripe and got himself a beating plus relocation as a guard to a Prisoner of War camp.
‘I’m sure them Krauts will appreciate having you there seeing as there are not too many Jews around these parts!’
Some guys had thought it funny. They’d laughed, but he hadn’t cared. He’d thought he could handle it. And he would have done, too, if there’d been other black guys there. Instead, he was alone among whites. He had a room on his own, he ate on his own. The civilian staff that came in intermittently were his only respite, they and the prisoners.
The main bugbear was Mickey Noble. He was mean as a rattlesnake with just as small a brain, except for his memory that is. Noble, like an elephant, never forgot a perceived wrong.
Chapter Seven
IT WAS THE Saturday before Christmas and Edna was alone when another parcel arrived.
For a while she stared at it, longing to rip it open and fondle its contents. She also longed to write to him, but simply didn’t have the courage.
When she could no longer face the parcel or her own cowardice, she reached for her coat and rushed out of the door.
She was going to marry Colin. Her son, Sherman, was going for adoption. Everything would be for the best and Colin need never know.
She ran down the avenue, her tears under control by the time she reached Colin’s house. Charlotte’s car was parked outside; no doubt she was once again checking on the progress of the toy Colin was making Geoffrey for Christmas. Well, that was fine. She could do with the company of someone who always seemed brave and able to cope with everyone else’s troubles.
Charlotte beamed at her the moment she entered the room . ‘Edna, darling. Look at this. Isn’t it
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