The Poison Pen Part One

On a glorious July evening in 1945, Tom Scott's Tank regiment crossed the Italian border into Austria. The war was over. The Germans had surrendered.  The prospect of peace and getting home in the not too distant future, cheered everybody.  At the door of the mess tent a trooper stood handing out mail from home.

'One for you Scotty'.  Tom took the letter and went to put it in his pocket.  It would be from Laura, he would read it later.  Then, frowning he stopped, it was not Laura's handwriting.  Puzzled, he opened the letter.  The printed message was terse and to the point.  'Your wife is committing adultery with a man called John Boardman, at his shop.  It has been going on for three months.  They have been caught in the act.'  The letter was unsigned.

'What's up Tom, bad news from home.'  His comrades retraced their steps and crowded round.  With an effort Tom pulled himself together.  'It's a poison pen, it's about Laura.'  The advice from the rest of the tank crew was, 'Ignore it.  It was probably not true anyway.'  Tom ate little.  His mind raced.  Laura, he could not believe it. They had married when he was twenty years old and her eighteen, pregnant and in trouble with her father for throwing her grammar school girl prospects away on a plumber.  Tom had been still serving his apprenticeship.  Money had been scarce but they had battled through.  Laura had worked as a book keeper until the baby was born.  They now had two children, June and Jeffrey, ten and nine years old respectively and now this.  It seemed a long time since he had seen them.

Back in their sleeping quarters, Tom and his friends discussed his predicament.  Poison pen letters were not all that rare.  They usually had a devastating effect on the recipient.

Tom wrote to Laura enclosing the note.  It was eight weeks before he got a reply and when the letter did arrive, it was from his Mother in law.  Basically it said the allegations were true.  Laura could not bring herself to write to him.  She had ended the affair and was very sorry, everybody was.  Even the children knew something catastrophic had happened.

By Autumn the regiment was in barracks.  One day just before Christmas, Tom was sent to brigade headquarters to collect medical supplies.  It was a cold sunny day.  There had been snow which had frozen on the road and on the return journey he drove slowly.  Suddenly his attention was taken by a woman pushing a pram up a track that branched off the road.

He stopped the truck and watched.  The woman could not get a firm footing in the snow and kept falling to her knees.  He saw there were two children in the pram, one in the pram proper and the other sat facing the woman with a blanket over it's legs.  Tom jumped down from the truck and walked over to them.

The woman turned at Toms approach. She put her hands out and exclaimed, 'nein!      Nein!' Tom lit two cigarettes and offered the woman one.  Reluctantly she accepted his offer.  He turned his attention to the track up which the woman was trying go.  It was a good hundred metres of steady climb.  At the top he could see a pine forest.  He looked at the woman and her unresponsive children, He saw that they were cold and exhausted.

The woman was tall, she had Auburn hair, green eyes and an olive complexion.  He could see that she had once been stunningly beautiful.  Now her fine nose and cheeks were reddened by exposure to the cold.  She wore an ancient fur coat fastened with safety pins, mens socks and mens boots.  Her possessions were in a canvas bag slung over her shoulder.   As Tom studied the woman he felt an overwhelming feeling of admiration for her and a strong attraction.  Here was a woman coping with difficulties unimaginable to the women back home.  He came to a decision.  He would load them onto the truck and take them up the hill.  If he got the truck stuck, the trouble he would be in was incalculable but the woman and her children could freeze to death out here.

Tom pointed to the truck, 'Come!'  He started to pull the pram towards the truck.  The woman sprang at him trying to wrest the pram from him.  He pushed her away, took the unprotesting children, a boy and a girl, installed them in the front seat of the truck, then despite the woman’s attempts to stop him he threw the pram in the back.  'Get in,' he ordered.  The woman looked desperately about.  The road was deserted.  Reluctantly she climbed into the truck beside her children.  Tom selected first gear and slowly they began the ascent.  At the top he brought the truck to a halt.  They were on a plateau of cornfields, stubble sticking through the snow.  The track continued along the side of the pine forest but Tom could see it was little more than an access track for farm implements.  He could take the truck no further.  About two miles ahead he could see what looked like a village.  He could make out some roofs and a church spire glinting coldly in the failing evening sunlight.  He jumped down, retrieved the pram and opening the passenger door, indicated to the woman to get out.  When the children were installed in the pram, Tom pointed to the village ahead.  'Is that where you live?' he asked.

The woman looked at him doubtfully, she had not understood.  She placed her hand on her chest, 'Anne Marie,' she said quietly.

Tom nodded, 'Anne Marie.'

The woman indicated to him.

'Tom.'  He responded.

'Tom,    Tomas?'

Tom nodded.

They stood looking at each other. 

'Danka,' Anne Marie said quietly.  Then she turned and with a preparatory push she recommenced her journey.  Tom watched her until she rounded a slight bend and was lost from view and he was left looking at the frozen desolation.

When Tom finally returned his truck to the motor pool, the Squadron Sargent Major Chris Gannon. was there.  Tom groaned, Gannon was a big man with a bristling moustache and brandy fed nose that could glow with rage.  He glanced at the list on his clip board and scowled at Tom.  'I could have done that journey quicker with a fucking. mule train,' he snarled.  Then he went on, 'Fall the men in Corporal!'  When the men were at attention, the Sergeant Major began, 'You lot are getting sloppy.  Just because the Germans have surrendered, you think you can cab around as if you are on a day trip to bloody Brighton.  Well I will tell you this.'.....

Christopher James Gannon was an orphan raised in institutions.  His only memories of England was  of cold dormitories and cold charity.  He had joined the army as boy soldier at fourteen years old and grew to manhood in India, where the regiment were when war broke out.  He loved India and wanted to return.  The prospect of having to leave the Army and live in England, an alien country he did not understand, filled him with dread.  He saw the end of the war as just the beginning.  The next step was to re-take control of the Empire but even as he berated his men he new there were no Empire builders here, just war weary conscripts eager to get back to Blighty and be looked after from the cradle to the grave.  My god he thought contemptuously, Why should England tremble.

Tom heard little of the sergeant majors rant, his thoughts were of Anne Marie.  Where was she, Shivering in the open, or did she live in the village he had seen.  Had she made it there and if so what sort of a reception did she receive?  What was her story?  He new he would make his way to that village and try to see her.

'SCOTT!!'

Tom jerked his head up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw men staring at him. They were stood at ease, he was still at attention.  The sergeant major came and stood before him his face flushed with anger.  Tom braced himself for the inevitable verbal onslaught.  It did not come. Gannon dropped his eyes and then, raising them wearily asked, 'Why is it Scott, you just couldn't give two fucks.'

A Christmas card from Laura and the children arrived.  She simply wrote, 'I hope you are keeping well Tom.  I am sorry for the way things have turned out.  I will do what ever you want.  Laura.'

It was June when Tom was granted two weeks pre-demob leave.  He decided to go home and sort things out one way or another.  His mother was dead and his father lived with his sister, Tom's Aunt in a council flat.  If Laura did not want him staying at the house, at least he could sleep on the floor there.  The truth was, however, that he was desperate to see home and the kids.  He wrote to Laura advising her of his intentions.

It was strange being back in England.  There were interminable delays.  He had said in his letter that he would be home by six o’clock in in the evening but it was gone ten o'clock when he knocked on the door of the tidy little terraced house that was his home.  He glanced around.  Chapel street looked war weary.  The houses all needed painting.  The chapel from which the street derived it's name had had a tidy well clipped privet hedge which now stood twelve feet high.  He saw the curtain twitch in the window next door.  The old witch Ada Manning was spying as usual.

Laura opened the door, 'Hello Tom.'

'Hello Laura.'

After a pause Laura turned and walked into the kitchen.  Tom dropped his kit bag in the hall and glanced around.  The stair carpet was missing he noticed.  The old house was clean but drab.  The strain on Laura was plain to see.  She stood arms folded, gripping her elbows with her hands, her eyes down.

Tom asked,'Are the kids asleep?'

Laura raised her eyes and nodded.

'I'll go up and take a look.'

He eased open their bedroom door.  They had been infants when he had last seen them, now they were children.  He could see Laura's traits in their features and his own.  Suddenly June sat up, 'Hello Dad.'

'Hello June I thought you were asleep.'

Jeffrey sat up rubbing his eyes, 'I was asleep,' he said.

The children sat looking at him.  Tom was at a loss.

'Are you and Mum getting divorced?' Jeffrey asked.

'Let's not talk about things like that just now,' Tom reasoned.

June asked,'Is there going to be a big row?'

'No,' Tom said reassuringly.

Jeffrey spoke emphatically, 'Herbert Shaw says you will kill her.'

'Do I look like a killer.  ' Tom walked between their beds and took one of their hands in each of his.

'Go back to sleep and stop worrying.'

The children lay back.

'It's good to have you home Dad,' June said.

Jeffrey, ever practical, asked, 'Will you be here in the morning.?'

'If you two don't go to sleep soon, it will be morning.' Tom replied.

He went down stairs.

'I made a shepherds pie,' Laura said, 'but it's ruined.'

 'It will be fine,' Tom replied,

They did not speak whilst he ate.  The radio was on playing quietly, the music of the light programme.  When he had finished eating Laura said, 'I will make a cup of tea.'

Tom nodded, 'I'll just take a walk up the garden.'

It was a warm evening.  The garden was only the width of the house but was thirty yards long, split in two by a rose arch and two espaliered apple trees.  The apple trees were overgrown and in need of attention but the roses were better than ever.  He walked through into the second half of the garden which had a green house, a small shed and vegetable plot.  As he did so the gate in the adjoining wall opened and his neighbour Joe Manning came through.

'Tom!'  It's great to have you home, 'Ada said you'd landed.'

They shook hands.  'Thanks,' Tom said, 'It's grand to be home.'

Joe looked round the garden, 'I am sorry everything’s in a mess Tom but my gardens just as bad.  I haven't been here to look after them.  I've been working away you know, directed labour.'

Joe Manning was a man in his late fifties.  As a skilled engineer he had been sent to work in an aircraft factory near Hull.

'Anyhow you are back now and that’s all that matters,' Joe said.  'We are proud of you lad.  You beat those damned Germans.  I was in Hull when they bombed it.  I pulled one little girl out of the rubble myself.'

Tom spoke wearily. 'Well I've just come through Germany and I can assure you that they are pulling plenty of children out of their rubble.'  He saw that Joe was puzzled by his attitude and went on, 'Can we not just forget about the war.  Come round some night and we will have a game of crib.'

Joe's face brightened,'That's the spirit Tom..I'll bring a couple of bottles stout.  He was turning to go when Ada Manning appeared.

'Good evening Tom, welcome back.'

'Good evening Ada.'

'You are all in one piece I see.'

'Yes I'm O.K.'

Joe took his wife's hand, 'Come on, let's leave Tom to get on.'

Ada allowed her husband to lead her away but in the gateway she turned arms folded defiantly,  'It's a disgrace what's been going on while you lads have been away,'she stated, then abruptly, she vanished.

Tom stood for a moment, then smiled grimly.  Joe must have given her a hell of a tug,  She vanished

like the pantomime fairy.

When Tom got back to the house Laura gave him a cup of tea.  He sat down with it in the old rocking chair whilst Laura went outside to empty the teapot.  She stood for a while in the fresh night air and tried to calm herself.  She had heard Tom talking to the Mannings.  What had that old witch been saying?  what was Tom going to do?  What were the sleeping arrangements going to be?  It was so good to have him home.  She longed to get her old life back but hardly dare hope.  She steeled herself and went back into the house.  Tom was fast asleep.  She eased the cup out of his fingers, switched off the radio and went to bed.

 

When Tom awoke, Laura and the children were still asleep.  He washed and shaved at the kitchen sink,  and took a walk up the garden.  God it was good to be home.  This modest terraced house and garden meant everything to him.  They were totally contented here.  Their own little Eden.  He had always assumed that Jeff would become a plumber like himself and live nearby and that June, who had shown a startling hunger for knowledge from an early age would go to the grammar school as her mother had done.  How he wondered, would things turn out now.  When Tom returned to the house he found Laura up and preparing breakfast.

'Good morning.'

'Morning.' Tom replied

 'You must have been dead beat. You went out like a light.'

'I'm all right now.' Tom responded.

Laura switched on the radio and called the children.  Tom watched them eat and prepare them selves for school.  He was pleased, whatever else she had done, Laura was making a good job of bringing up the children.  June left the table, went to the front door and returned with a bottle of milk.  'Our milkman Mr Walmsley's horrible Dad.'

'Is he,' Tom answered.

'Yes, he's always saying horrible things.  Mum hates him don't you Mum.'

Laura frowned, 'Finish your breakfast June. You are going to be late.'

June went on, 'He has a horrible wart on his nose and one day at Christmas, when he was handing Mum a bottle of milk, she said, 'Your hands are cold' and he said, 'Cold hands but warm in bed' and he leered in a horrible way.'

 'He does sound pretty horrible,' Tom agreed.

Jeffrey said 'Warty devil, I'll fetch him a kick.'

When they were ready to leave for school June laid her head on Tom's arm. He put his arm around her and squeezed.  Jeffrey held his hand out Tom laughed and shook it.  'Will you be here when we get home?' the boy asked.

'I'll sort something out, trust me,' Tom replied.

When the children left the two adults were again at a loss.  Laura started clearing the breakfast things away.  Tom got his jacket, 'I'm going out,' He said.  'I'll be back at tea time.  We can talk then,   decide what to do.'

Laura made no reply, she simply held his gaze.  Tom nodded and left.

End of part one.