and Lewis would ’ave showed ’em. Give us a sharp bayonet and we’d ’ave pig-sticked the lot of ’em!’
The thought of anyone pig-sticking any other human being, enemy or ally, filled her with disgust and a powerful urge to back her son, to do anything to stop him going to war. She lived for her children. It was all that kept her going and made life worth living. She didn’t want him to go. She didn’t want him to die.
She turned to Harry. ‘I think you’re right, Harry. This war will be different and there’ll be more than one way to fight it.’
Henry looked as though he was about to burst a blood vessel, but she knew he would keep his temper – at least for now. Her expression was as stern as that of her husband. ‘If you men stop playing at soldiers, I can refill this cruet set and put some fresh bread on the board.’
Her heart beat like a drum. Already she could see the anger smouldering in Henry’s eyes. No doubt she’d pay for it later, but even if it meant a slap or two, she would do all she could to keep her son from being sent away to fight. After snatching upthe necessary utensils, she retreated back to the scullery where the two girls were whispering together.
Lizzie eyed her over the top of a saucepan she was wiping. ‘Is Dad still angry?’
Mary Anne didn’t want to discuss the matter. She gave orders instead. ‘Being busy will keep our minds off things. Lizzie, go scrub the pig’s head.’
Daw was trembling. ‘Ma! I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘What’s that then?’
A deep flush rushed over Daw’s cheeks. ‘It’s something to ask you really – seeing as I’m not twenty-one yet.’
Mary Anne had been about to open the outside larder where the dairy products and eggs were kept. She paused, fear clutching her heart. She thought she knew what was coming. She could see the intensity on Daw’s face; the fear of what she presently had being wiped out before she could really enjoy it. Hadn’t she been there herself over twenty years ago?
‘John and I … well … seeing as there’s going to be a war and it’s pretty sure that he’ll be called up … we want … he’s asked me—’
Lizzie interrupted. ‘For goodness sake, Daw. Don’t blush about it. It’s perfectly normal.’ She turned to her mother. ‘They want to get married, Ma. Just in case …’
Mary Anne finished her sentence. ‘…just in case he doesn’t come back.’ She knew the words well. She’d known them years ago in the days before Henry, before Edward had gone marching to war. He’d asked, she’d accepted, but her parents hadn’t allowed it. ‘You’re too young. You’re both too young.’ He hadn’t been too young to fight. Off he’d marched and never came back. There was a hole in her heart that had never been filled, even by the young, dashing Henry who’d been flattered, surprised in fact, when she’d agreed to marry him. It was onlylater he found out the reason why, and had turned on her like an animal caught in a trap.
Mary Anne turned the tap, the water dribbling over the pale meat. ‘You’re not twenty-one. You’ll need your father’s permission.’
Daw bit her lip. ‘He will say yes, won’t he, Ma?’
The sound of arguing still filtered out from the other room.
Lizzie put her arm around her sister. Her eyes stayed fixed on her mother. ‘Of course he will,’ she said, shaking her sister’s shoulders as she hugged her. ‘Of course he will. Won’t he, Ma?’
‘You’re under twenty-one. There’s a form to be signed.’
‘Should she ask him now?’ pressed Lizzie.
‘Oh, no!’ Daw looked fit to faint at the prospect.
Mary Anne pushed her hair back from her face and half closed her eyes. ‘Get the paperwork. We’ll wait for the right moment.’
‘Will you sign it, Ma?’
Mary Anne thought of Edward and nodded. ‘Yes. I will.’ She shrugged. ‘Unfortunately, it’s not up to me. It’s your father that has to sign. You know that.’
Daw
The thought of anyone pig-sticking any other human being, enemy or ally, filled her with disgust and a powerful urge to back her son, to do anything to stop him going to war. She lived for her children. It was all that kept her going and made life worth living. She didn’t want him to go. She didn’t want him to die.
She turned to Harry. ‘I think you’re right, Harry. This war will be different and there’ll be more than one way to fight it.’
Henry looked as though he was about to burst a blood vessel, but she knew he would keep his temper – at least for now. Her expression was as stern as that of her husband. ‘If you men stop playing at soldiers, I can refill this cruet set and put some fresh bread on the board.’
Her heart beat like a drum. Already she could see the anger smouldering in Henry’s eyes. No doubt she’d pay for it later, but even if it meant a slap or two, she would do all she could to keep her son from being sent away to fight. After snatching upthe necessary utensils, she retreated back to the scullery where the two girls were whispering together.
Lizzie eyed her over the top of a saucepan she was wiping. ‘Is Dad still angry?’
Mary Anne didn’t want to discuss the matter. She gave orders instead. ‘Being busy will keep our minds off things. Lizzie, go scrub the pig’s head.’
Daw was trembling. ‘Ma! I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘What’s that then?’
A deep flush rushed over Daw’s cheeks. ‘It’s something to ask you really – seeing as I’m not twenty-one yet.’
Mary Anne had been about to open the outside larder where the dairy products and eggs were kept. She paused, fear clutching her heart. She thought she knew what was coming. She could see the intensity on Daw’s face; the fear of what she presently had being wiped out before she could really enjoy it. Hadn’t she been there herself over twenty years ago?
‘John and I … well … seeing as there’s going to be a war and it’s pretty sure that he’ll be called up … we want … he’s asked me—’
Lizzie interrupted. ‘For goodness sake, Daw. Don’t blush about it. It’s perfectly normal.’ She turned to her mother. ‘They want to get married, Ma. Just in case …’
Mary Anne finished her sentence. ‘…just in case he doesn’t come back.’ She knew the words well. She’d known them years ago in the days before Henry, before Edward had gone marching to war. He’d asked, she’d accepted, but her parents hadn’t allowed it. ‘You’re too young. You’re both too young.’ He hadn’t been too young to fight. Off he’d marched and never came back. There was a hole in her heart that had never been filled, even by the young, dashing Henry who’d been flattered, surprised in fact, when she’d agreed to marry him. It was onlylater he found out the reason why, and had turned on her like an animal caught in a trap.
Mary Anne turned the tap, the water dribbling over the pale meat. ‘You’re not twenty-one. You’ll need your father’s permission.’
Daw bit her lip. ‘He will say yes, won’t he, Ma?’
The sound of arguing still filtered out from the other room.
Lizzie put her arm around her sister. Her eyes stayed fixed on her mother. ‘Of course he will,’ she said, shaking her sister’s shoulders as she hugged her. ‘Of course he will. Won’t he, Ma?’
‘You’re under twenty-one. There’s a form to be signed.’
‘Should she ask him now?’ pressed Lizzie.
‘Oh, no!’ Daw looked fit to faint at the prospect.
Mary Anne pushed her hair back from her face and half closed her eyes. ‘Get the paperwork. We’ll wait for the right moment.’
‘Will you sign it, Ma?’
Mary Anne thought of Edward and nodded. ‘Yes. I will.’ She shrugged. ‘Unfortunately, it’s not up to me. It’s your father that has to sign. You know that.’
Daw
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