Chapter 73: Incidents

Margaret saw Wilf as her ultimate challenge. She'd finally suspected what had always been true - that he'd been up to no good. The local policeman called a few times and asked to speak with him. When she questioned him about this, he was evasive and she became less confident about his being such a good influence on Michael. She forgot her misgivings, to a certain extent, when she finally persuaded Wilf to start going to evensong, on Sundays, with Michael and Gwyn.

"Your voice has broken so you'll be no good in the choir. You can sit with Gwyn." Wilf had never had any intention of joining the choir.

Gwyn was delighted. "Will you? Will you sit with me Wilf?"

"Course I will darlin," Wilf replied. He'd make sure he'd be sitting next to Eileen Perkins too, his latest conquest, and a regular attender at the church.

There was going to be a special carol service, just before Christmas. It gave him a chance to show off in front of Eileen so Wilf agreed to read one of the lessons. Margaret was convinced that Wilf was fully restored to virtuous ways.

Michael, Rob and Paul were to stand at the front and sing, "We Three Kings". At rehearsal, the curate praised them. "Well done lads! That sounds lovely."

On the day, they made a complete mess of it. They wore paper crowns and dressing gowns. Paul had an imitation moustache-and-beard. Unfortunately, his crown slipped one way, and his moustache the other. It happened half way through the verse he was supposed to be singing. This made Rob start laughing and he gave Michael a nudge. Michael saw the funny side of Paul's misfortune and he started to giggle. Paul tried to control himself but soon all three were convulsed with laughter. The organist glared at them, which made them laugh even more. The congregation smiled indulgently, but the curate, seeing that it was a situation which could not be salvaged, stepped forward and escorted them to the choir vestry.

Their mothers were not pleased.

"Made a public disgrace of us!" Margaret stormed.

The three boys thought it was brilliant. The best thing that had happened to them since they'd started at different schools, at the end of summer! It sent the holidays off to a really good beginning. Nothing had really changed: they were still the best of mates! They knew how to misbehave together and enjoy themselves.

A few days later, Wilf's mother sent his railway fare through the post, and asked for him to be sent back home to London. Everyone was sorry to see him go.

Eileen wept buckets. Margaret shed a few tears. Gwyn cried. Wilf gave Michael his knife. Wilf said, "You'll have to come and stay with us in London when the war is over."

They all went to see him off at Lancaster Castle Station. They took Eileen with them. Wilf and Eileen kept on kissing passionately, before the train arrived. Margaret told them to stop it. "You're showing us all up, Wilf. Making a spectacle of yourself!"

"Sorry, Mrs Watson!" he said.

Then as the train arrived, he gave Margaret a hug and a big smacker for herself before he climbed aboard his carriage. Eileen stood on tiptoe and Wilf leaned down and kissed her yet again. The train departed and they all waved. And that was the end of Walworth's 'grand lad' in Lancaster.

Back at home, Margaret told Michael and Gwyn they could put the Christmas decorations up while she went out to do some shopping. They kept tattered trimmings from one year to the next. There was an old, artificial Christmas tree which Sheila Matthews had given them. Standing on a chair, Michael was able to reach the places to pin the trimmings up high. Gwyn found some fragile coloured balls and other ornaments for the tree. These were kept in a cardboard box, with a few small wax candles, under the stairs in the pantry.

When Margaret returned, she said, "That's more like it. You've done a good job. It seems more like Christmas now."

She went into the kitchen and left them to finish off. Michael found a box of matches on the mantlepiece. Gwyn saw him open the box. "You're not supposed to strike matches unless Mam's here," she warned.

"I know that. She's not far away. She's only in the kitchen isn't she! I know what I'm doing!" He struck a match and tried to light one of the wax candles which Gwyn had fixed to the tree. It wouldn't light at first, then it flickered into flame.

Michael lit another one. Soon all six candles were shining brightly. The tree was transformed. It had become a magical tree.

"Turn the light off Gwyn!"

She did so and the tree looked even lovelier, in the darkened room. Gwyn was ecstatic. She clapped her hands together and said, "You were right Michael. I'll ask Mam to come and look!"

"Mam! Mam! Come and look at the tree!" she called. She swung open the door of the kitchen, where Margaret was cooking their evening meal. The opening of the door caused a draught. The draught brought disaster. The flames of the candles were blown sideways and contacted the dry, imitation, pine-needles of the tree.

Whoosh! it went. It made a noise like the wind in the chimney on a stormy evening. Just the one - Whoosh! The tree was consumed. Just like the sudden letting off of a huge firework on bonfire night! The flames leaped aloft, ceiling-high, leaving a black patch there. The main trunk and a few blackened branches remained with the glass ornaments on them. It looked really ugly now.

Gwyn stood transfixed, aghast at what had happened. The sudden turn around from delight to disaster was a shock. Michael let out a frightened shout. Margaret leaped into the room, terrified at first, and then with anger blazing in her eyes, when she realised what had happened and who had caused it.

She grabbed Michael by the scruff of his neck and bundled him upstairs, smacking the backs of his legs with the flat of her hand, all the way to his bedroom. "Stay there! I've told you not to play with matches," she shouted then she slammed the door on him.

It wasn't the first time that Michael had played with fire and courted disaster.

Sometimes he and Gwyn had arrived home before Margaret. One afternoon, they'd let themselves in using the key their mother had left hidden. Margaret had dampened the fire down by covering it with ashes before going out to her cleaning job. Michael poked the ashes with the iron poker kept with firetongs at the side of the fireplace. Michael was allowed to put coal on the fire and encourage it to revive and warm the room.

If the fire had gone out, he was permitted to clean out the grate and lay a new fire. He was good at that, using a sheet of newspaper, crossed firewood sticks and making a pyramid of small pieces of coal. The skill was in leaving spaces between the combustibles so that air could flow easily and spread the flames upwards from the easily ignited paper underneath. He had been told to wait for his mother to arrive before he ever lit the newspaper. "I don't want you to set the house on fire!"

He and Gwyn would keep their coats on until the room warmed up. Being cold for much of the year was one of the worst features of the war as far as Michael was concerned. Both children suffered from chilblains. Worst of all, was if you got some snow down the inside of your Wellington boots. The backsof their knees were often chapped.

To make the fire blaze quickly, Michael had seen his mother spread a sheet of newspaper across the open fireplace. Air would be sucked in down below and the strong draught would increase the amount of oxygen and make the flames fare up. To increase the draught, you could open a door or a window for a short while. It could be a dangerous procedure, because the newspaper might catch alight, and sparks fly into the room. Michael felt he was the real thing, when his mother let him follow that slightly dodgy procedure, but only when she was there to watch him.

Only once had he tried it when his mother was not there. It had been a frightening experience. Wind roared down the chimney. The newspaper had flared up suddenly, and bits of charred paper floated around the room with red bits still glowing angrily on them. He and Gwyn tracked them anxiously, watched where they landed and stamped them out before they could set fire to anything in the room. The danger passed. He had not been tempted to do it again!

He still enjoyed being the man with the matches when his mother was there. When the fire was going well, Michael and Gwyn would warm themselves in front of it. "Don't put your feet too near," Margaret would warn them, "or you'll make your chilblains worse!" She should know, Michael thought; his mother always had chilblains and scorched legs every winter.

Michael didn't like going errands much but he enjoyed doing the washing-up after meals. He washed and Gwyn dried. He'd fill the sink up with hot water and stir Oxydol into it. He'd flick soapsuds at Gwyn. Sometimes they played splashing each other. It reminded Michael of when he and his sister had their baths together when they were younger. Margaret was not amused if they spilt water all over her kitchen floor.

Sometimes Margaret would let the children play with containers and floating objects in the bath upstairs. She warned them not to use too much hot water. "We haven't much coal ration left and it takes a lot to heat the water," she'd remind them. It was good, kneeling side-by-side, on a waterproof mat and leaning over the side of the bath, playing naval war games with bits of wood for ships and trying to sink empty matchboxes with water 'bombed' from their cupped hands. When they played there a long time, their hands were all swollen and creased with being in the water so long.

Water play was okay but he still liked playing with fire. There were all sorts of other enjoyable things you could do with matches. Michael liked lighting the gas-stove, but was always a bit apprehensive. The gas coming out of a ring made a plopping noise as it ignited. If Michael left it too long, because a matchstick broke and he had to strike another, the plopping sound was more like a bang. Coal gas smelled horrible. He knew it was dangerous and could cause a minor explosion if you took too long finding the the outlets in the dark oven. "Mind you don't singe your eyebrows!" his mother would warn, if he put his head inside the oven, trying to see where the gas jets were.

Fireworks were unobtainable. For bonfire night, there were ways around the wartime shortages. Mr Martin had 'contacts' who supplied him with indoor fireworks, including sparklers and sulphur matches, which burned in a variety of colours when lit. They were a bit tame but they gave off pungent clouds of intriguing coloured smoke. Mrs Martin asked Michael and Gwyn round to a special tea and afterwards the children took it in turns to hold the sparklers and wave them around, making silvery-golden patterns in the air.

Gwyn was frightened at first, then risked holding hers when she saw that the sparkles of iron-filings did not burn the other children when it was their turn.

The previous autumn, Wilf had been anxious to be mobile on Michael's bicycle after dark. He'd acquired a carbide lamp. Ordinary lights and their batteries were hard to come by. He bought some lumps of carbide from a chemist's shop, poured water over the carbide and lit it. Michael was very impressed by this. Wilf showed him how it worked. He told Rob about it and Rob bought some carbide for the friends to mess about with. Messing about was still a favoured occupation.

They piled it all up one evening when it was almost dusk. They were by the shed at the bottom of Michael's back garden. Michael brought a jar of water from the kitchen and they poured it over the carbide, which started hissing and bubbling and giving off a foul smell. Rob had some matches. He lit one and threw it on the carbide. Flames leaped into the evening sky and their fire burned steadily.

A couple of minutes later, the ever-vigilant Mr. Jackson appeared, striding down the garden path. He was really angry with them. "What do you think you're doing? No lights after dark!"

"It's not dark yet," Rob protested.
"None of your lip, young man!"

He went and knocked on the back door of Michael's house and asked Margaret for a bucket of water. "I thought you'd have known better than to let them have a fire going, this late in the day!" he told her.

Margaret protested, "What an earth are you going on about? I didn't know what they were up to!" She had been busy inside the house and had not noticed what the boys were doing. She said she was sorry and filled a bucket with water. Mr Jackson took it from her, walked down the garden and threw it over the fire. It had the immediate effect of causing the fire to blaze up even more and of sending the  ARP Warden into a rage. He shouted at Michael, "You! Fetch me a spade. Quick!"

Michael went into the garden shed and fetched his dad's spade. Mr Jackson set to work, digging up earth and throwing it over the fire. It took more than a half dozen spadefuls to extinguish the fire. He handed the spade back to Michael and then gave both the boys, a stern lecture. "If it depended on you two, we'd have lost the war ages ago!"

The most dangerous 'good adventure' involved messing about with thunder-flashes. These were explosive devices used by the Home Guard on manouveres. They were meant to go off bang loudly and flash vividly, in an attempt to give Dad's Army some idea of what it might be like to be under real fire in a real battle.

Paul's dad was in the Home Guard and had pilfered a few of these. Paul brought one with him, one Saturday afternoon, when the boys were playing their war games near the hedge at the top of the road. Paul had only 'borrowed' it for his friends to have a look at it. Rob had other ideas! When it exploded, there were singed eyebrows and terror in the ranks before they all had the presence of mind to go and hide behind the hedge.

Margaret, the Martins and three other people from further down the road came out of their houses and looked around, trying to trace the source of the mysterious explosion, which they had heard clearly from indoors.

"Must have been a car back-firing," said Mr Ward from the opposite side of the road.
"What car?" muttered Margaret, staring intently at the field.

The boys kept their heads down and stayed very quiet and still. The grown-ups went back inside. Then the boys chortled with glee.

Authority had been baffled by what they'd done! However, they didn't ask Paul to bring any more thunderflashes. They knew they'd had a lucky escape from being severely burned.

Another thing they'd enjoyed was setting parts of the field on fire. Then they flailed with their coats and stamping-feet to keep the burning grass within bounds and to put it out. They enjoyed playing with fire, liked frightening themselves and loved risking being caught by Authority.

Until the Christmas tree was destroyed because of his disobedience, Michael had gambled dangerously in a variety of ways and won. The destruction of the tree should have been a lesson to him!

When Christmas finally came, it was a happy one. Gordon was home on leave and more relaxed, more like his old self than he had been for years. Soon the war would be over, everybody believed it now, and he would be back for good. He could not wait for that to happen. He'd soon put his neglected house and garden in order and be finishing projects which were only half done in 1939. He was delighted that he and Margaret were happy together again and making plans for the better times just around the corner.

Nan came round for Christmas Day and there were no provocative remarks from her to upset her daughter-in-law. A friend 'in the know' had provided a chicken for the meal and they'd clubbed together to buy it. Margaret made it last for four more meals in various guises.

In addition to the family's Christmas party on Christmas Day, there was one on Boxing Day when the Matthews came to tea and stayed the evening. Jack and Gordon had a long chat about politics.

Jack was jubilant. "You'll see, as soon as it's over the old gang will be out on their ear."
"How can you be so sure?"
"People have learned. The only way to run a country is to pull together. That's what they've been telling us for six years and people have seen it works. They've convinced folk about something which will be their own downfall. Cooperation's going to replace competition. Sharing's going to takeover from grabbing profits!"
"I hope you're right," Gordon responded, not convinced.

Jack kept on at him, "You should know better than I do. From what I've heard, all the Forces are determined to have a better deal after the war." Gordon had to admit that he hadn't talked much about politics recently. All he could think about was surviving his last two missions. After that, it would be easy street for him until the war was over. He'd be given a job as an instructor or, better still, become a member of an Air Force roadshow. He'd love going round the country, with a Lancaster bomber, letting people have a close-up of one of the famous aeroplanes.

Jack was all fired-up, talking about the New Education Act. "Even the Tories are in favour of that. It'll make a big difference to all our kids."

Gordon thought to himself, "Our Michael's doing all right as it is, thank you very much."

Jack went on, "You must have read the Beveridge Report! All the changes for good he wants! And he's only a Liberal. Just imagine what we'll do, when our lot get into power! Real power for the first time! There are good times coming Gordon!"

Gordon felt his batteries recharging. The war had got him down. Now he was revitalising. He was moved by Jack's enthusiasm. He said, "I'm out of touch Jack. All I think about is the war. I'm sure you'll be around to make sure we win the peace."

Before the Matthews went home, Michael and Rob compared notes. Christmas was not over yet. They had invitations to quite a few parties. It was as though people were anticipating victory and in a mood to celebrate at every opportunity. Whatever the reason, all the stops were pulled out to give the children a good time.

There was the Cubs-and-Brownies combined party. The three boys were invited, although they were too old to belong to the Cubs now. Akela asked "three of my best lads" back for the special occasion. The three friends had belonged to the Scouts, only very briefly, after they left the Cubs. Authority was too much in charge there, so they soon relinquished their membership of that organisation. It meant that they were not invited to the Scouts-and-Girl Guides party.

Michael went to the Choir's party and the Sunday School party. It was amazing how the mothers found goodies for the events despite rationing. Everywhere they went the boys had a feast.

Michael went with his sister to Nan's Working Men's Club party, where they had a super tea, played games, had competitions with prizes for the winners, and were given an apple and an orange at home time.

All of the family went to the Church party. Again, the committee had managed to provide a variety of sandwiches, trifles, cakes and mince-pies. Each child was given a Christmas cracker and a balloon. Michael enjoyed watching his Mam and Dad dancing together to gramophone music. They were really good ballroom-dancers.

Michael and Gwyn were in complete agreement. It was the best Christmas ever! Their Mam and Dad enjoyed it too. Gordon would have liked a few drinks in the house. But the money would only go so far. You could not expect to have everything you wanted. He went back off leave, feeling that he was a very fortunate man. Life really was beginning all over again for him at forty!

For Michael, best of all wasYvonne Robson's party. Yvonne had been in the same class as the boys at Ryelands School. It was her birthday, five days after Christmas. There were six boys and six girls at her party. It was held in one of the bigger houses on Cross Hill.

They had a Beetle Drive then a slap-up feed. After tea, they played Spinning The Bottle, Postman's Knock, Truth, Dare Or Promise, Charades and Sardines.

Rob was disdainful, but Paul and Michael made no secret of enjoying kissing girls. Michael managed to do this several times before they played Sardines. He hid in a narrow brush-cupboard and could not believe his luck when pretty Yvonne squeezed in there with him. They were two of the last to be found and Michael felt that it was one of the best adventures that he'd ever had, in the dark, with Yvonne Robson.

When they were walking home, Paul asked Michael, "What did you do? What did she let you do?"

"Nothing!" Michael defended robustly. "It was only a stupid game wasn't it?"
"They were all stupid games!" Rob added, vehemently, still in recovery-mode after his lengthy encounter, entombed, under a single bed during Sardines, with Yvonne's older sister, a big girl for her age and two stones heavier than he.

There was snow and sledging during January. They went as often as possible to the Shell Hole before the snow melted. Yvonne Robinson was always there, with her friend Patsy. Yvonne always managed to be near Michael in the queue waiting to go down the Shell Hole. She had a really good sledge. Michael was sharing a home-made one with Paul. That year, Rob had one of his own. After they'd had three goes, Yvonne said to Michael, "You can come with me if you like."
Rob guffawed!

Michael accepted the offer. All of the kids were wearing several layers of thick clothing. Close bodily contact was impossible. Michael still found it interesting to lie on top of Yvonne when they sped down the slope. She held onto the front of the sledge and steered it. Michael held onto her shoulders as they plunged into the deep crater and took off from the top of the other side. The extra weight made the sledge hurtle down the slope, towards Thompson's gate.

At the last moment, Michael realised that they were heading straight for the stone gatepost. He threw himself, sideways off the sledge. Sir Galahad abandoned his Fair Lady! Every man for himself!. The sledge and Yvonne hit the gatepost a terrific smack, still going at breakneck speed.Yvonne screamed and was thrown off.

All of the other kids were running to see what had happened to her. Yvonne's nose had been flattened and her face was covered in blood. She and her friend ran off down Powder House Lane and up Cross Hill to her home. Michael and Paul followed, pulling her sledge for her. Poor Yvonne's nose was broken and she had two enormous black eyes for ages.

"It's always the same!" Michael thought. "Just when you're really enjoying yourself, something unexpected happens to spoil it." What happened next in his life certainly underlined that thought!