Authors: Carl Leckey
I am enjoying a Cuban cigar when I reveal. “I have hired an automobile and intend to visit friends some distance away from Birkenhead. I will be away for a couple of nights. Tomorrow is Armistice Day. I will be at Hamilton Square in front of the town hall at eleven o’clock to celebrate the ending of the war. I will leave here the day after.”
Without hesitation she replies. “Then I shall accompany you. I am not letting you out of my sight so soon after finding you.”
I am not sure if I want her along and attempt to dissuade her. “It will be cold in the car.” She replies scornfully. “Ha! Adam I hunt in all weathers, an open car holds no hardship for me. You are not talking me out of accompanying you my dear you may as well accept the situation.” I smile and reply. “Frankly I shall enjoy your company. I would like you to meet my friends. They are from my army days; both are good and true men.”
A liveried page enters the lounge, locates me and offers a telegram on a tray. The telegram is from Gunter a brief reply to my request it reads.
Investigation regarding family estate in progress, I will fly to England if required. I am available for the next three weeks at this address
.
The page enquires. “Is there a reply sir?” I apologise. “Excuse me Mother I shall be back shortly.” I follow the page to the communications office and send a reply.
Thanks Gunter I appreciate your involvement Things are more complicated than I first assumed. I might require you in England in about a week’s time. I will contact you again in a few days to give you details.
I also take the opportunity to send a telegram to Denise updating her on the latest situation. When I return to the lounge Mother says. “Forgive me? You left it on the table I couldn’t help seeing the message.
Is it the Carstairs estate the telegram refers to?”
I can’t make out by her expression if she is annoyed or resigned to the fact I know about the crisis in their finances
“Mother I am aware you are in financial trouble due to bad investment advice.”
“How did you find out?” She enquires. “I picked up a few hints from here and there. A great deal of information comes my way from all kinds of sources.”
With a laugh I add. “Mother would you believe your Son moves in international financial circles these days?”
I add this bit of bullshit as I don’t want her to know I acquired the information from Toot.
Mother looks concerned she assures me. “Adam I hope you don’t think I was trying to involve you with the estate because of the problem?
We could easily clear our debts by disposing of some of Father’s collections. I have already had them valued.” She adds hurriedly. “I must confess without Emily’s knowledge. She would not be pleased if she learned what I have done. I am afraid Emily does not live in the real world. We were financially sound until she took advice from her so called friends. I am more concerned about the staff we employ than myself. They depend on us and if we let them down what will happen to them?”
I take her hand and assure her. “This will not happen believe me.
Emily will have to face up to what she has done, but we will work it out together with advice from an expert. The person I have contacted will give us sound advice to resolve the matter.”
Totally unrelated to what we are discussing she makes a request.
“Adam would it be too much to ask if you would call me by my name. Don’t you recall our trip to Canterbury when I said the self same thing to you?”
Amused I reply. “I do remember that outing. I also recall I blabbed on a bit about the injustices in this world of ours and you patiently listened.” She replies in a taunting manner. “I wonder do you still retain those opinions now you are yourself an extremely wealthy man.”
I find her remarks a little hurtful. To be truthful my conscience still pricks me when I indulge in extravagances of the rich and idle.
I find I have to justify myself to my Mother. “Well I hope I do. I admit sometimes it is difficult as I partake of the good life. I believe I still work hard for my daily bread. The people employed by me are treated as partners not employees. I don’t believe you will find any complaints from that quarter. As a matter of fact there is a long list of people desperate to work for our company.”
The anger I feel quickly evaporates when I notice the smile on her face and realise she has been baiting me.
I return to the subject of how I should address her in future.
“I will do anything you ask Angelique, but I warn you I like having a real Mother and do enjoy referring to you in this manner.”
She looks disappointed until I make an offer. “Shall we make a compromise? When we are alone you will be addressed as Mother, whilst we are in some company I think Lady Angelique will suffice” Getting my own back for her baiting of me over my status now, I add.
“If you are a particularly nice Mummy to me I will call you Angelique.” She squeezes my hand and smiles my idea evidently satisfies her.
I suggest. “Now let’s get back to the telegram and the financial crisis.”
“Oh Adam let us forget about the problems for tonight at least. Look they are dancing over there. Do you dance?” I reply sarcastically. “No I do not. We didn’t have much use for dancing at the front line I’m afraid.”
She rebukes me. “Don’t be such a grump, you naughty boy. Come I shall teach you.” She stands and holds her hand out to me. I laugh.
“Mother I have to decline your invitation. My Wife tells me I have two left feet.”
A well dressed middle aged gentleman swoops in with a bow introduces himself as Joseph Stead. He requests Angelique. “May I have the pleasure of a dance Madam?” She gives him a wonderful smile turns to me and says “May I have your permission my dear?” I reply in the same vain. “Of course Angelique go and enjoy yourself. Hum! Hum! The old leg is playing up this evening. I shall just sit here and enjoy another cigar while I watch you dance.”
As I observe her whirling around the dance floor in the arms of a stranger. I have an odd feeling. Surely it can’t be jealousy she is my Mother after all? Is it envy of her dancing partner’s ability? I suppose if I am to move in her circles I shall have to learn to dance. Something I have ridiculed for as long as I can remember. Bloody hell! I suddenly realise how I am being drawn into the way of life I have always despised.
My Mother returns to her seat escorted by her dancing partner. She thanks him and he gallantly kisses her hand and leaves us together.
I enquire tongue in cheek. “Did you enjoy that my dear?”
She smiles. “I certainly did, he is an excellent partner. He asked me to dance again but I refused. I told him you are very possessive and only allow me to have one dance with a stranger.”
Startled I enquire. “Why did you tell him that? Who does he think I am anyway?” She replies with a secretive smile. “That is for him to wonder isn’t it my dear? A little bit of mystery spices up life don’t you think? Let him believe you are my handsome young beau. He is quite a handsome chap himself don’t you think Adam? A very interesting man with a very exciting profession Hmmm! Yes very interesting.”
As she describes him in such a way I feel it again that touch of jealousy or whatever it is. I am learning another side to my Mother. After another drink we arrange to meet for a nine o’clock breakfast, we then retire to our separate rooms for the night. It has been a busy and rewarding day with the exceptional input of wine and spirits I am asleep as soon my head hits the pillow.
The car I ordered is already waiting when we leave the hotel. A quick familiarisation lesson accompanied by the delivery driver and I have an excellent car for a week at least.
I introduce Mother to Norman when we meet as we park the car. Together we stroll towards the already packed Hamilton Square.
A military band is playing a medley of wartime Songs. Gradually we work our way close to the Town Hall steps until we have an unhindered view of the dignitaries assembled there. Norman points out to us the roped off area where it is proposed to erect the cenotaph. This will be inscribed with names of the fallen. Although there is no memorial actually built to commemorate the lads that died in the Great War one is planned for the near future but no certain date has yet been set. Norman explains that a model of the monument is on show in the Town Hall.
Members of the public and local businesses are contributing to the cost of erecting the memorial. He excuses himself and heads to the area he has arranged to meet his family leaving Mother and I alone amongst the throng.
All around me it is possible to witness the results of the war. Men on crutches, legless men in bath chairs, blind men led by family members all gathered together to celebrate this most unique moment in our time. Ten thirty a hush descends over the assembled people. Speeches are made by the Mayor the local Member of Parliament, Lord Leverhulme and senior members of the armed forces.
Eleven o’clock strikes on the Town Hall clock. Mother reaches out and grasps my hand. An uncanny silence engulfs the square. A lone bugler on a balcony high up on the building plays the last post.
The fluttering flag perched high above is lowered to half mast.
Mother and I are moved unashamedly to tears, joined by most of the public present.
Tears of relief that the insanity of the past four years has ended.
Tears of joy that we have survived the madness
.
This has to be the most emotional day of my short life, an experience I shall never forget.
I have personally witnessed the end of the war to end all wars in the company of my Mother.
After the ceremony a spontaneous cheer erupts from the crowd, the band strikes up Land of Hope and Glory. As the song draws to a close there is a burst of thunder and the heavens open cascading a torrent of cold rain onto the assembled mass of people.
Quickly they disperse from the square, Mother and I head back to our parked car which is open to the elements. We are giggling like a couple of school kids as we climb in and sink onto the soaking wet upholstery. I race back to the hotel through blinding rain having a few near misses on the way. On arrival at the Hotel Victoria our first stop is in the lounge in front of the huge log fire to thaw out and sip a welcome glass of brandy. After arranging to meet for lunch we depart to our separate rooms to change out of our dripping apparel. The rain appears to be in for the day and there’s no way I fancy driving an open car in this weather. Mother decides to retire to her room to write some letters. I wander into the bar and play a few games of billiards with the elderly chap that danced with Mother on the previous evening. His name is Joseph Stead and as we swap stories he explains he was a war correspondent and had witnessed action in the Middle East, France, and Turkey and South Africa. We mutually agree not to talk war and enjoy the afternoon together. He is a fund of amusing stories on all kinds of subjects. I am so taken with Joseph I invite him to join us for dinner that evening.
Stating he is surprised that my companion is my Mother and he would like to meet her again.
Unfortunately he has made prior arrangements and won’t be dining at the hotel this evening. As we play billiards although we had previously agreed not to talk war the subject came around to myths and legends, particularly the Angels of Mons. Joseph informs me he had been following the story when he had the opportunity and was considering writing an article about the sightings. He asks me had I had any experience regarding the matter. I reply.
“Joseph, I wish someone would prove or disprove the affair I have heard so many conflicting stories from good and honest men I don’t know what to believe. All I do know is this. I believe a guardian Angel saw me through the war. I am not religious in fact I would consider myself the contrary. Why I was chosen out of the millions of others to come through virtually unscathed I will never know but something or someone looked after me, I am convinced of that.”
As I finished talking a telegraph boy enters the room he recognises Joseph the boy hurries over and hands him an envelope. He rips it open reads the contents apologises to me grabs his coat off the hanger and disappears through the door at speed.
Well it seems my billiard session has been abruptly terminated. I have one more drink in the company of the barman and head up to my room to write another long letter to Denise.
Mother and I dine alone that evening and retire early to our rooms ready to face the journey tomorrow. Before retiring I write another long letter to Denise relating today’s events finishing it with a passionate expression of my undying love for her.
After studying a map and planning a route, at nine o’clock we set off to meet my old army mate Sandy, and the finest officer I have ever had the privilege to meet and serve, the Colonel. The temperature has certainly dropped since yesterday the sky is black and heavy with clouds.
I have never been any further than New Ferry by road so I am on unfamiliar territory as I head towards Chester. About lunch time I feel the cold creeping through my body. Despite my experience driving open army trucks during the war I have not remembered to pile on extra clothing. My feet are freezing as I make a decision to look for an inn or hotel to dine and warm ourselves. My Mother doesn’t complain but I have a feeling she is suffering in silence. I glance her way but she sits as if at ease and smiles back. If she is as stubborn as me she won’t admit being uncomfortable in the open car after scorning my warnings of an arduous journey. A pub sign appears through a scattering of sleet. The Yacht Inn is located miles from anywhere but nevertheless welcomes us with a huge open fire and the aroma of roasting food.
The Landlord attends to our needs personally as we are the only patrons in the comfortable lounge. He has evidently observed us arriving in the open car and advises me to drive the vehicle under the cover of an open barn. I comply with his advice immediately. As I park the vehicle under cover a flutter of snow spirals down out of the leaden sky.