Our Lives are Defined by Opportunities, Even the Ones We Miss
Accidental Hero Ep#4 : A romance with one foot in the past
Continues from Ep #3 Where Ben takes his crush Verity to meet his mother. A visit to the churchyard brings them a little closer to Walter, who was awarded the medal. Ben enlists the verger’s help, and later learns that Patrick has mistreated Verity.
Walter ‘s Story
The sea breeze whipped the ribbons on Hetty’s hat and lifted the ends of her auburn hair. It put roses in her cheeks and I was glad to see them there. She smiled shylywhen I was bold and took her hand. Other people from our village were strolling along the pier, many them billing cooing, our behaviour would not draw attention.
“I have something to ask you, Hetty.” I squinted to look at her, the sun was slanting in my eyes.
“Yes, Walter?” She sounded a little breathless. My heart was drumming too.
“Now I’ve been made up from junior clerk at Bryant and Wicklow, my prospects are improved. Of course, I still have to look after my mother, but — would you consider — well, we’ve been walking out for over a year now.” I stopped, my ears were burning hot. Finding the right words was an ordeal. I rubbed my moustache and started again. “Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
“Really, Walter, you want us to become engaged?” Hetty’s bright smile was encouraging, and I felt a little steadier.
“I do, yes. If you are agreeable, I will ask your father. He might be pleased that I have a special dispensation not to fight. I shall be able to care for my mother, with her health troubles, and I can look out for your family too.”
“My answer is yes,” she sighed, and her eyes sparkled.
I looked left and right; seeing nobody nearby, I stole a kiss. Hetty’s cheeks were like peaches and cream, and she looked flustered when we stepped apart.
Hetty is a wonderful girl. We got friendly when I played cricket for the village XI and she and her mother provided the teas. She is loving and considerate, kindness itself, and she bakes a beautifully light sponge. Hetty’s father, is captain of the team, and seems to like me. If he gives approval to our plans, I imagine I could jump into the sea and swim straight to France!
We were squashed like peas in a pod in the charabanc on the journey home, but I was content sitting close by Hetty. We leaned our heads together and made plans for the future in low voices. After travelling for about an hour, some of the men called out to the driver, suggesting we stop at a public house.
It had been a long day, but it seemed some didn’t want the fun to end. I suspected many passengers needed to avail themselves of the facilities. Our driver agreed to pull over outside a whitewashed building where the swinging sign declared it was The Lamb and Flag.
“We’ll be leaving in twenty minutes,” his instruction was firm. “Don’t go far.”
It was a balmy evening, and Hetty suggested we stretch our legs by walking a little way along the country lane. Other couples were doing the same, but a few likely lads entered the pub for a swift half of ale.
Hetty removed her bonnet. I longed to tug at the ribbons in her hair as I had done when we attended the village school. It was a treat to see her tresses tumble around her shoulders, and back in the day she got deliciously riled.
I noticed a couple of the office girls, Letitia and Agnes, with their heads together giggling, but didn’t pay much attention. Hetty, however, watched them closely. I saw her frowning before she broke away, talking to them in a heated manner. She snatched for something one of them was holding and appeared to lecture her.
Hetty was known for her fiery temper, which matched her hair, so I left her to it. I hung back, waiting, fingering the brim of my hat. She returned to my side.
“What was that about?”
“Just setting some silly girls straight, they ought to know better.”
Hetty brushed at her Sunday dress, as if dealing with the matter had left smuts on her outfit. She smiled broadly at me, despite her shoulders remaining tense.
“Hey Walter.” It was a brash fellow who worked with the invoices. “Why haven’t you enlisted? I got my papers last week.”
Letitia and Agnes tittered, as he strutted, puffing up his chest like a pigeon.
“My mother has a weak chest. I have special dispensation to stay home to look after her,” I answered, with a sinking heart.
“All the more glory for us men,” he cried.
Now murmurs of ‘pathetic’ and ‘mummy’s boy’ rose around me. I experienced uncomfortable anguish. I knew young, able-bodied men ought to fight, but my mother’s lungs were compromised. Plus, Mr Bryant was counting on me to keep the wheels of his company turning; he had lost so many men to the recruitment office, that the business was hanging by a thread.
“Are you sure you aren’t chicken?” Letitia called out, holding up what she and Hetty had argued over. Like a slap, I recognised a white feather.
Hetty, who’d previously linked her arm with mine, broke away and tried unsuccessfully to grab the feather Letitia was using to taunt me.
Meanwhile, the lad who had questioned my patriotism had removed his jacket to begin rolling up his sleeves.
“C’mon Walter Gibbons, show me your mettle,” he goaded.
I couldn’t back down. I shrugged off my Sunday jacket and handed it to Hetty, already seeing how the ensuing months, maybe years, would go. I’d be constantly defending myself, having to field questions. Was I a conscientious objector? Why hadn’t I enlisted? Ignoring Lord Kitchener’s call to take up arms against the enemy would raise suspicions, being as I was in A1 peak health.
The lad, who I later learned was called Harry Crawford, threw the first punch. I was nimble on my feet, and I dodged it easily, but his friends made a circle around us. There was no escaping, so I raised my fists as my father had taught me and jabbed at his sweaty face, catching him square on the jaw.
Harry reeled a bit, but his friends helped him back to his feet and he came at me again. Taking the first blow had made him angry, which also made him careless. Henry put his body weight behind the next blow, which glanced off my shoulder, and he staggered again.
“Knock him out, Harry,” one of the girls cried. I was shocked at her uncouth behaviour.
When Harry grinned unpleasantly and stepped towards me again, his fists were up; as weapons, not in defence. But I was faster, I clocked him right in the eye. He howled in pain and toppled backwards, falling like a skittle. His friends hurried to catch him, but he was senseless and fell limply to the ground, hitting his head on the road surface.
There was a flurry of activity, people gathered around him. Agnes started crying.
“He’s dead, you’ve killed him.”
It certainly looked bad, Harry’s face was slack and pale and his body was motionless.
I glanced at Hetty, needing to make a snap decision. I’d landed myself in a heap of trouble. Instead of proving I wasn’t a coward, I’d shown myself to be a violent thug and killed a man with my bare fists.
“Look after my mother,” I implored Hetty as I snatched my jacket and hat out of her shaking hands, and took off at a run.
Dear Hetty,
I hope you are well my darling, and not missing me. I hardly know who I am without you, but training has kept me busy.
So much of my time is spent marching, drilling and learning how to charge, plus cleaning and use of our weapons. It is exhausting but very necessary, I assume. When we retire to our bunks to sleep, the other men and I go out like a light. It’s strange to sleep among so many bodies, instead of my quiet room at my mother’s house, Just one of the many things to which I must adjust.
At least, for now I have a bed, I hear there is no such luxury in the trenches. We are not allowed to share where we are being posted, but we depart soon.
Please take care of Mother and make sure she eats properly. Perhaps your father would be so kind as to chop her firewood.
Wishing we were not apart — your ever-loving;
Walter
To be continued (on Monday) A fictional story blended with facts gleaned from various historical websites. The title is a quote from Benjamin Button. Hetty was my grandmother’s name. Series originally appeared on Medium.
Can’t wait for the next part!❤️❤️❤️