seventeen, and if the girl took it into her head to walk out, he’d be in a right old fix. Christ, he needed to get out of there–he needed a drink, but with little money left this week he could afford only a pint. He sank back in the chair, berating his life, thoughts drifting.
They’d been happy once, him and Myra, but then the war had started and he’d been called up. As his mind took him to the front, Tom shook his head, not wanting to think about it, yet still the memories invaded. He didn’t want to remember the sickening things he’d seen and done. Yet as always, even as he struggled to forget, the first horror returned to haunt him. He was in a landing craft, nerves taut as they waited to beach. The young chap next to him was in the same state, shaking, his eyes wide with fear, and they’d started to talk, inane chatter just to break the tension.
When they’d hit the beach, the shout went up to disembark and, lugging their packs, they surged forward. Tom didn’t know how far he had run when the bloke next to him suddenly spun, a look of shock on his face before he fell. Until that moment he hadn’t realised how frail the human body was, but as the soldier clutched at his stomach, guts spilling out, his screams combined with the sound of explosions and gunfire. Tom shuddered at the memory, recalling how he’d been paralysed with shock, unable to move, horrified to see the soldier’s dying moments.
Bullets raked only inches away and at last he moved, diving to the ground, terrified as he used the young man’s body as shelter. It was like a living hell; the thunder of mortars, machine-gun fire, the stench of cordite, shouts, yells, cries as more bodies fell to the ground. He had no idea how long he had lain prone behind the soldier’s body, hands over his ears as shell after shell exploded, but then a corporal hauled him to his feet. Tom had seen the look of disgust on his face, and then he’d been shoved forward.
‘Get moving,’ the corporal had shouted and, feeling like a coward, Tom had followed the command, bent double as he raced up the beach, more and more soldiers falling beside him. He’d lost it then, firing his weapon without thought, determined to kill or be killed.
That moment had changed him, and as the weeks went by he had hardened. He would kill, feeling nothing, becoming an animal with only one thought–survival. One enemy soldier had actually begged for mercy, but, grim-faced, Tom had shot him, uncaring of the blood that spilled from his body.
When the war ended, he no longer felt human, returning home to find that many streets and buildings he’d known were gone, bombed to oblivion. He’d tried–oh, how he had tried–but soon after his return the memories began to haunt him until, day and night, he relived the horrors of war. It had been years now, but still they plagued him. When would they stop? When would he find peace…?
There was a tap on the door. Alice Moon poked her head inside and Tom welcomed the interruption.
‘Can I have a word?’ she said.
‘Yes, come on in.’
‘Hello, Emma,’ Alice greeted as she crossed the room. ‘Doing a bit of sewing, are you?’
‘Yes, but I’m still useless at it.’
‘You’ll learn.’ As her eyes raked the room, Alice added, ‘Where are the youngsters?’
‘Dad made them go out to play.’
Alice’s lips tightened momentarily, but then she focused on Tom. ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’
‘There’s only a stool.’
‘That’ll do me,’ she said, making herself comfortable. ‘Look, I won’t beat about the bush. I’ve seen the way Emma struggles to look after the kids, and to help her out I’ve had the two youngest for a couple of hours in the afternoons.’ Shifting a bit on the stool she rushed on, ‘I’ve grown fond of them, Tom. They’re lovely boys, and Cyril and I would like to take them on permanently.’
There was a stunned silence, but then Emma’s voice rang out. ‘Alice, it…it’s good of you, but we can’t let you take James and Archie.’
‘Shut your mouth, girl. This is my decision, not yours,’ Tom barked.
‘But, Dad—’
Tom felt his face redden. ‘I said shut up!’
‘Now then, Tom, there’s no need to shout. It must be a shock for her, but listen, love,’ Alice turned to Emma. ‘They’ll be better off with Cyril and me. I love them and we can give them a good home. They’ll want for nothing, I’ll see to that.’
‘Oh, Alice, I know your place is like a palace compared to this, but Dad can’t break the family up.’
Tom surged to his feet. ‘I’ll do what I bloody well like.’
‘Please, Tom, calm down,’ Alice cajoled. Then she spoke softly to Emma again. ‘It’s for the best, love. I’m only downstairs and you can see the lads whenever you want.’
‘Hold your horses, Alice,’ Tom protested. ‘It’s me you should be talking to, and I ain’t said you can have them yet.’
‘Surely you can see the sense of it? Emma is run ragged.’
Tom flopped onto his chair again, running a hand over his chin. There was no denying that it made sense. With the others at school, Emma had only James and Archie to worry about, and without them she could go out and earn a few bob, if only part time. After all, the girl had turned seventeen in February and it was about time she earned her keep. The rent owed was piling up, he knew that, and he doubted the landlord would put up with it for much longer. Tom knew he should pull himself together, cut down the booze, but he had a craving inside, eating away at him and driving him to the pub whenever he earned a few bob. A wave of self-pity washed over him. Bloody hell, no wonder he’d turned to drink! Any man would. He’d fought a war, and instead of things getting better, they were still stuck with bloody rationing. Work was tight, and on top of that he’d lost his missus. All he had left was a horde of bloody kids that drove him mad with their constant noise.
It was the thought of having two less to worry about that made Tom’s decision. Looking up, he nodded at Alice. ‘All right, you can have ’em, but I can’t give you anything towards their keep.’
‘None’s expected, Tom.’
‘Right, that’s settled then.’
‘But, Dad…’ Emma protested.
‘If I hear one more word from you, my girl, you’ll be sorry. I’m doing what I think is best and that’s that.’
‘She’s bound to be upset, Tom,’ Alice placated.
‘Do you want the kids or not?’ he said, his tone threatening. He could change his mind, and Alice knew that.
She nodded. ‘You know I do.’
‘Right then, when do you want to take them?’
‘I’ll have to get beds first. After all,’ she chuckled, ‘I can hardly stuff them in with me and Cyril. I’ll buy them tomorrow, so how about Tuesday?’
‘Yeah, that’s fine with me. It’ll give Emma time to prepare them, not that I think they’ll mind. After all, as you said, they’ll only be downstairs.’
Alice
