Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [28]
‘Mr Murray doesn’t seem to think he was lucky.’
‘Well, he wasn’t really. He got hit in the face. It ruined his whole life. Turned him into such a bitter man. I’m OK. I’m still doing what I did before. Everything changed for him.’
‘What? Do you mean he wasn’t a teacher before the war?’
‘Him? A teacher? Do you think he’d ever have wanted to be a teacher? He hates it. Surely you’ve noticed that?’
‘I’ve noticed that he hates me,’ said Johnny. ‘He’s so mean and cruel.’
‘He doesn’t really hate you, I’m sure,’ said Hutch. ‘But he’s angry. He never wanted to fight. He didn’t volunteer like me. He was called up towards the end of the war. He was a good-looking man – hoping to become an actor, you know. He can’t do that with half his face shot away, and now he’s stuck with a job he doesn’t like and can’t afford to give up.’
‘But why take it out on me?’
‘He probably doesn’t mean to. You probably just make him feel guilty.’
‘Guilty? Why?’
‘Because your father died and he survived. It’s hard for us veterans, you know. I don’t think many of us are going to take pride in being able to march in the parade today. We’ll be thinking of all the dead men who deserve to be there. And there’ll be plenty of others angry that we’re still around, when their loved-ones are gone. That Miss Dangerfield lost her sweetheart. Your own mother lost your dad. She’d be a saint if she wasn’t jealous of the women who got their husbands back.’
‘But she’s proud of how Dad died. This morning she got out the little plaque with his name on, and the scroll the King sent when he was killed. She keeps them in a special box, you know, with the letter they sent about how his body couldn’t be recovered. Mr Murray says that means he was blown to bits.’
Hutch winced. ‘Who knows, Johnny? Who knows? It was chaos out there. Half the stories about what happened to people must be lies or guesswork. But whatever happened, your mother is right to hang on to her pride. The trouble is, it’s all wearing off a bit now. During the war we were heroes. Now I’m just a man with a limp, and your Mr Murray is a bitter bully with an ugly face. We’ll have our parade, but some people won’t even bother to go. And next year there’ll be even fewer who’ll brave the cold. There’s plenty of folk who think we should put it all behind us. Maybe they’re right. The war’s been over for more than ten years now, after all.’
Hutch was staring into space, and Johnny felt awkward seeing him so emotional, so he picked up the bag and set off on his paper round. The square was being prepared for the ceremony, and the band was rehearsing stirring marches and sad laments for the dead.
At ten o’clock, Johnny and Winnie took their place by the war memorial. Johnny quickly found his father’s name, but this year he noticed two Hutchinsons and a Murray there too. He hadn’t realized before that those two had lost brothers. Gradually other people joined the crowd – all of them well wrapped up in winter clothes, stamping on the stone cobbles to keep their feet warm. Towards half past ten, Dr Langford and his wife arrived. They both looked smart. She was wearing a stylish black coat with a wide fur collar, bought in the days when they still had plenty of money. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun under her hat, showing off the fine features beneath her wrinkled skin. Even Johnny could tell that she was naturally elegant. Maybe it was that French blood the doctor had told him about. Mrs Langford exchanged some pleasant words with Winnie as they waited for the parade to begin. Dr Langford quietly shook hands with several of his former patients. He pinched Johnny’s cheek in his well-meaning, but painful, way.
The bandsmen were just lifting their instruments to start playing when a large black car swept into the square. Johnny was collecting cigarette cards with pictures of all the latest models,