Chapter 9

      The conversation hadn’t gone exactly as he had planned, but he hadn’t expected his ma to storm out quite like that. It was good of Uncle Stephen to stay behind and give him some encouragement, but then he had left too. He hoped he would see him again before shipping out. He loved his uncle dearly. George put his face in his hands, elbows on the desk. He felt like crying, but a soldier didn’t cry. A man didn’t cry. He would remain strong for his mother’s sake, but it was so difficult.

      He heard the door click open again and looked up. He had expected his mother or Uncle Stephen, but it was his brother. He hadn’t realised Joe was home. How much had he heard? Joe didn’t say anything, but stood in the doorway looking sad. He always looked that way, some might say he had a sad face. George couldn’t remember if he had ever seen his brother smile. At least, he never had with George in the room. Now, though, he looked as if he were about to break out in tears. It was a sentiment George shared, but how could he tell his brother that?

      Joe opened his mouth, about to say something, but then was interrupted by the sound of their father’s cane on the hallway tiles. ‘What are you two doing moping around here?’ he said, joining them in the kitchen. He was dressed in his work clothes, a woollen suit and bow tie. George knew that he so much wanted to be wearing his uniform, but his father would only ever get to wear it on special occasions. He wouldn’t be joining George in France. ‘Why aren’t you down the dock getting work, and why aren’t you at that paper of yours?’ He limped to the table and lowered himself into a chair. ‘Where’s that mother of yours? She’s normally here when I get home from work.’

      George wasn’t sure what to say. His father wasn’t unused to his wife’s bouts of sadness, but it wouldn’t make him particularly happy to hear about another. Besides, George had something important to tell him, and he didn’t want to put him in a worse mood. He was sure that his dad would be proud of him, and he would have to tell him sooner, or later. ‘D—’

      ‘She’s just gone for a walk with Lizzie,’ Joe interrupted, giving George a pointed look. He wasn’t sure why Joe had interrupted. He always had to get in the way of things, ever since they were little he had been trying to get in George’s way. But this wasn’t the time; he was a soldier now and that gave him a certain sense of power.

      ‘I’ve got something I need to tell you, Dad.’ He took a gulp of air, remembering how his mother had reacted. He found it difficult to say what he wanted to. It should have been easier to tell his father, but he felt a strange sense of reluctance. Perhaps it was because of Joe’s presence as well. He plunged ahead. ‘I went to the recruitment office, up on Gwent Street. I went with Tom.’

      His father didn’t look up. He was flicking through the newspaper on the kitchen table, grumbling to himself with the turn of each page. George wasn’t sure that he was even listening.

      ‘He and I…’ George paused again, trying to read his father’s expression. ‘He and I… well, we signed up. We signed up to the regiment, Dad. We wanted to go out to Europe, to France. We wanted to stop the Hun.’ The words came out in a torrent, as if a floodgate had been opened. George thought what he had been trying to say was obvious, but the silence in the room had made him spurt it out. Joe sighed and sat down in another chair with a thump. He didn’t say anything, but shook his head, then put his head in his hands. Their father carried on reading the newspaper. Nothing could change George’s mind now.

      ‘Dad?’ George said, unsettled by his father’s silence. He knew that when his father was silent, something was brewing. George thought that his father was going to cry out as his mother had done and felt guilty again. She had made him second guess his decision, but all along he had thought that his father would support him. Had he made a mistake? No, he couldn’t have. He thought of returning to work on the dock and it made him shudder. He couldn’t go through that again. His father’s stories of the army sounded much better. It had made his father a man and given him so much pride. After all, that’s how his parents had met. George wanted the same sense of belonging, to make something of himself. The dock had no prospect of advancement. Most of the men that worked there were twice his age and would never be anything more.

      ‘Right,’ his father said at last, in a low voice that always signalled he had made his mind up about something. He pushed the now closed newspaper to one side and looked at both of them, before settling on George. ‘That’s that then.’

      Joe leaned forward on his elbows. ‘If I had known—’

      ‘You keep out of this.’ Their dad didn’t even look at Joe, but stared at George. The gaze was piercing, as if his father was trying to see into his very soul and guess his inner thoughts. His father had often told them off, but George hadn’t seen his father look like this before. It made him shudder. ‘You’ve made your decision then. I had expected you to wait a few years, but what’s done is done.’

      He couldn’t have sat around and waited. What if the war was over before he got his chance? He couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing he was here doing nothing and others were out there defending their country. He had always felt older than his years, which was perhaps something to do with being a younger brother and everyone he knew being older than him. Most of them treated him like an adult, except his brother.

      ‘We could tell the recruiting office that they’ve made a mistake?’

      ‘Don’t you dare, Joseph. If he’s taken the King’s shilling then he’s one of us now. He’s a soldier, and there’s nothing that can be done to change that. Besides, it’s what you want, isn’t it, George?’

      George nodded. He thought about all the answers he could possibly give, all the different reasons. What would be the best thing to say? What did his dad want to hear?

      ‘Of course, I always wanted to,’ he said, and hesitated again. Why was it so difficult to talk to his dad? He felt like a child again. ‘Now felt like the right time. When we got there, to the recruiting office, there was a whole line of other men signing up, including some I knew from school. I couldn’t let them go without me. How would I feel sat here waiting? It wouldn’t be right not to do my bit too.’

      ‘Good, honourable reasons.’ His father stood up and limped towards him. The click of the cane was deafening in the kitchen. He then put a hand on George’s shoulder. It took all his willpower not to flinch. ‘If it helps, I think you’ve done the right thing, son.’

      ‘But he’s too young.’ Joe stood up and George thought that he was going to storm out again. Why was he getting involved? What was it to him if George enlisted? At least it would take the attention off him. ‘How could they let him enlist? It’s clear he’s not old enough.’

      ‘He’s a grown man now, bigger than me or you, Joe,’ their father said. ‘He’s an intelligent chap, that’s what they’ve seen. They’ll make him an officer in no time. And every man should do his bit. You know, I wish I was coming with you.’

      ‘You’re both mad.’ Joe was pacing now, every bit as angry as he had been the other morning. He looked as if steam was about to burst out of his head, which had gone red.

      ‘Don’t talk to me like that, Joseph. I’m your father. Don’t forget that you should be doing