A Mother Forever Elaine Everest (best beach reads of all time .txt) 📖

she took home gave her and Pat a good life. She pondered at times how many men, or even women and children, had died because of her helping to make bombs. She mentioned it once to her friends and they laughed, so she kept it to herself. That is, until one day when she was taking a breather outside the house where they worked and a young foreman stopped to chat. She asked him the same question, and instead of shrugging it off, he told her there would always be a war somewhere.

‘However, I’ve been informed that production is about to change. We are going to be extracting powder from the Verey Light cartridges, so at least you’ll still have a job.’

‘I’ve prayed for this day,’ she said. ‘I’ve been worried of late about making bombs, now I have a young grandchild.’

‘Think of something happier,’ he said. ‘You’re a good worker, Caselton; don’t let your thoughts hold you back. I reckon if the war had continued, you’d have been made a supervisor on the lines. Perhaps one day you’d have been fighting me for my job,’ he’d laughed before walking away.

Back at Buckingham Palace, being pushed about by the crowds, Ruby suggested to Pat that they move on a little. ‘Don’t forget, George said he would meet us,’ she reminded her. ‘Irene is leaving baby Sarah with her mother. He said to meet us by the gates of the Palace. I don’t know what we were thinking of, coming here today to see the parade amidst these crowds. Why did we not realize there would be so many people? I doubt we will spot them,’ she tutted.

‘We will,’ Pat said. ‘We’ve just got to look for a hat covered in silk roses. I helped Irene stitch them onto her best black hat. It was George’s idea, as he knew how Irene wanders off to look in shop windows and he was worried he’d lose her.’

‘Why ever did he think of roses when everyone is talking of poppies?’

‘She had them in a vase in her front room, so thought they’d do. I do think poppies would have looked prettier,’ Pat said, considering her mum’s words. ‘Why do people think so much of poppies?’

‘They are seen as a symbol of the war, which is now called the War to End All Wars,’ Ruby explained. ‘The poppies grew on the battlefields after the guns stopped.’ Thinking of this turned her mind once more to her friends and what the war had done to them.

Frank was back home, his face haunted by what he’d seen. He’d told her that there was a time when for weeks on end they had never removed their boots or even slept, as the guns pounded relentlessly while they tended to the injured and dying. He’d remained at the field hospital, where he had done every job imaginable. Ruby had wanted to know more about what that was like, but Frank refused to go into detail, saying that it would only haunt her dreams.

‘A lady should never see what I have seen. If anything, it has reinforced my belief that war is terrible and no side ever really wins; so what is the point in fighting?’ He would argue long into the night whenever the two friends got together.

Frank had given Ruby a copy of a poem and told her to read it often, and understand the words, and to make sure that Pat too understood the futility of war. The poem was ‘In Flanders Fields’ by John Alexander McRae, a poet who had served in the war. Ruby wasn’t one for poetry, only ever having read nursery rhymes to the children when they were younger, but this poem resonated greatly with what she’d read, and the little she had been told of the war was brought home to her by its simple lines. She had copied the words out for Pat to keep and understand and not forget.

As she stood there now, just by the crowds, she murmured the words. ‘In Flanders fields the poppies blow . . .’

Was Eddie one of the fatalities of war? Did he have poppies marking the spot where he’d perished?

Derek had been as good as his word and written numerous letters to those in authority, but their replies had failed to explain what had happened to Eddie or where he might be. Ruby needed to know, so that she could move on with her life. It was as if she was in perpetual mourning. Several times, one of the younger foremen at work had invited Ruby to go to the picture house with him or even just take a walk, and she’d had to explain that until she knew what had happened to her husband she would have to refuse – even though, as she admitted to herself, she found him very handsome.

‘Well, I’ll be blowed,’ Ruby said, as Pat started to jump up and down with excitement as she spotted Irene and her hat. ‘I shall have to borrow that hat for next time we go shopping in Woolwich market and you wander off.’

‘Mother, don’t you dare,’ Pat scolded before pushing through the crowd and leaping onto her big brother. ‘We found you,’ she exclaimed as she beckoned to Ruby to hurry up and join them.

‘That is certainly a startling hat, Irene,’ Ruby said, admiring Irene’s handiwork.

‘It’s suited the purpose of standing out in the crowd, and at least you found me,’ Irene said. ‘You must help me remove the roses now, though. My mother would be rather upset to find I’d used them to adorn a hat, rather than letting them sit in the crystal vase she also purchased.’

Ruby looked at George. ‘You seem rather miserable, my dear – is this upsetting you?’

‘No, Mum. I feel, one year on from the end of the war, it is rather uplifting. The two minutes’ silence will give me much to think about,’ he answered.

All the same, Ruby thought, there was more on his mind than