The Tourney Story by Paul Audcent - HTML preview

One day we had a great silver like bag land in the Dairy field and upon inquiring Father discovered it had been a old Barrage balloon that had strayed from its mounting. The army came down to collect it and with them a Major who had known Beth’s captain prior to his Dunkirk wounds. I was able to ride over with him to meet his old friend and after much chitchat the Major offered Beth’s husband a position in the department he himself worked in. It was not far from Amblemead in a large Georgian house they had recently requisitioned. Beth was delighted, as her Captain, in spite of his allotment visits, was bored to tears and upset. He felt he had been left on the shelf because of his limp, ‘My brain and hands are still capable of work,’ he’d complain to Grandpa Bailey.

‘I can vouch for that, you be a great weeder.’ Would come back the reply.  Later Captain Barton was allocated his own military motor cycle, and he taught Beth and I how to ride it over the fields. Eddie begrudgingly provided the fuel.

It was shortly after the Captain had been recalled to service that my uncle and father called us all into the dining room. Celia was on leave and staying with us. My uncle explained that once the war was over and the castle returned to the family that he and Aunt Emily would find it far to large to live in. Therefore he decided to deed gift it to Father. With a large family to cater for and with Arthur and Tom hopefully with us then we would certainly need the extra room. Father had declined at first but my uncle had persisted. The cost of running the castle was to be born by the Estate, which itself was to turn into a trust. My uncle was well ahead of his time to ensure that death duties would not decimate our livelihood. I believe Cecil’s early death, plus his obvious affection for the Manor House, affected his decision, for my father was his heir. None of us had thought at all about this matter. I had assumed Celia would succeed, wrongly for the

castle and title went from male to male. With the war’s end still three years away it made not a bit of difference, though I always felt a little different walking through the castle gates, and I did find myself taking a little more notice of the surroundings. A crack in Grandpapa’s concrete pond I hadn’t noticed before, and the top window frames could do with a fresh coat. Thus I would become already a part owner of my father’s new abode, naturally, when our guests eventually moved out.

I did feel a little sorry for Celia. She had lived in the castle all her life and it would be a wrench for her to leave. Of course I had not thought why she had moved down to Devon, as far as I knew Grandpapa had no property there. As I remember I had asked Gerry the same question a year or two back, but she only gave me a wink and a nod but actually clamed up and said nothing.

‘Not a bit of it,’ she said when I met her on the staircase.

‘I shall be moving back to Devon as soon as the war finishes, please God it will be soon.’ Celia said and she had a twinkle in her eye. ‘Anyway thank you for asking perhaps you would ask Uncle George to let me keep my room though.’ She thought for a few seconds. ‘You don’t know yet, you mean nobody’s told you?’ I shook my head but I felt Celia was going to spill the beans so I stayed silent.

“I’m to be married next spring to Walter.’ I searched through my brain for a Walter, but none came.

‘Walter Gibbons in Salisbury,’ A picture of a tall, clean shaven, bespectacled man, lovingly dusting the covers of books which he had stacked upon a huge table in a dingy bookshop close to the Railway station. Yes I had him then.

‘I had no idea’ said I, but now I remembered it was Celia who would drag Eddie, Gerry and I along to this dusty decrepit book shop, where, I admit the books were clean and well cared for whilst the linoleum was somewhat patchy, and apt to trip the unwary.

‘Mr.Gibbon’s, but he left years ago.’ Said I somewhat shaken by the image of my pretty cousin with the lanky bookworm.

‘He took his mother to Devon out of the war zone. That was very thoughtful of him and made a distinct impression on me. We met again when he bought in his Mama for tests in the hospital, quite by accident.’ I doubted it, for Celia was often in the bookshop, but I kissed her lightly on the cheek and wished them both well.

‘We thought of asking you to be best man. Well Arthur and Tommy are away, Eddie is too busy with the farm so he says, so that’s leaves you.’

‘Excuse me Celia, he surely has a male friend of his own?’

‘He’s a very shy person and has no male relatives.’ It wasn’t the question I had asked and I really saw no way out of this best man business. However I definitely felt a twinge in my side, so nodded my head in agreement. I thought as I said goodbye to Cousin Celia that this castle had not yet lost my grandfather’s wandering spirit, and I wondered what Grandmama was doing about it. I walked down to the study, knocked and entered. No one was inside so I stood in front of his portrait and cried out ‘Why me?’ Now you are half expecting me to say I received a reply, but the study was as quite as our meadow on a raw winter’s day. There was a more than a hint of blue cigar smoke and it was wafting out of the open window. So I shrugged and left having lost that round. At least I would be fourteen and hopefully a bit taller, otherwise Mr.Gibbon’s would tower over me.

CHAPTER TEN.  FAMILY AND FRIENDS.

Mr. Gibbons did loom over me despite my sterling efforts to gain a few more inches after my birthday. I endeavored to do stretch exercises by hanging onto tree branches or clinging off the top of a brick wall and doing lift ups. This did wonders for my arm muscles but didn’t put a millimeter on my height. I asked Cook if I could be fed a special diet and she suggested Tapioca pudding, which I had always despised. So I remained well below average, whilst Ted Wallis was gaining inches every month. He’d soon be a foot ahead of me. I asked Mrs. Wallis what he ate, but she laughed and said it was in the genes, and that I would be as I should be. That really was no help to my anxiety. However Jane, who arrived down from my aunts, suggested I ask the cobbler to put a false sole and heel on my shoes, and she agreed to pay. Well it did the trick, and at one inch taller I felt a new man. Alas, we had had my brown shoes adapted but Uncle insisted on black shoes for the ceremony. I'll return to that piece of theatre a little later.

As usual this spring and my fourteenth birthday, I was given the task of delivering presents around to those children who had the foresight to land on the day I was borne. My uncle had continued the practice of my Grandpapa’s birthday gifts with a few changes. When Cecil had died, he kept that date still for the giving of gifts as a memorial to his son. The second change was to discontinue the gifts when the child had reached sixteen. At that age they were given a monetary present. It was enough to buy a bicycle or help defray apprentice costs, or enable them to be articled to a profession. Uncle was very keen on the latter, and would examine the final year’s marks of each child. There would follow a visit to the study at the castle, which both the child and parents were invited to attend. Uncle would make the trip up to the castle and, like a doctor’s surgery, would see all those invited for a cozy chat on the child’s future prospects. Miss Preston would be in attendance, as was the family solicitor Mr. Giles. This would have been an unenthusiastic visit for some of the villagers, and indeed some were undecided whether to go or not. Invariably they would turn up, somewhat intimidated by the size of the estate, as well as having to dress up to the nines.

Uncle Arthur soon realized that folk would be put off by having to wear their best, although I’m sure the mothers enjoyed the chance. So he instituted an invitation where ties and jackets need not be worn, indeed he himself refused to wear either, and would dress in an old worn gabardine jumper and matching trousers. A marquee was erected for sandwiches, beer and tea, so inevitably it became quite a social occasion. Sadly it had one down side; it tended to evoke jealousy in the village between those parents with bright children and those, whose children were lost overboard in the tumultuous sea of education. Ultimately my uncle decided to open up the castle grounds on that day, to all parents and children of the Amblemead School, and then to hold school races in the afternoon. Inevitably those children not so clever in the classroom, were far better at sports.

Jane arrived the night before we were due to drive to Celia’s wedding, and I discussed my lack of height with her and Mother. I showed them the brown shoes that had been altered and I thought I caught the ghost of a smile from by my mother.

Jane then ordered me to fetch methylated spirits to take the brown polish off and we then would re-polish the shoes with black. By evening after a great deal of brushing and rubbing, my shoes were a glossy black.

Uncle had hired a motor coach, which Mr. Wallis had agreed to drive.  So the whole family, including Celia in her wedding gown, with Jane and Gerry in special bride’s maids dresses, all piled in for the drive to meet up with the Gibbon’s. I sat with Beth who admired my brilliant black shoes.

‘My how tall you’ve grown since yesterday.’ She laughed and the others joined in, but Celia came to my rescue explaining as ‘best man’, I was entitled to be at my best for her special day. We drove to Winchester, where Mr. Gibbons and his mother were awaiting our arrival inside the Cathedral. Apparently the family had something to do with the town and this was why Celia had selected it for her and her beloved’s wedding ceremony. I had been half hoping to go to Exeter, it would have been a great trip. Still the wedding came off very well, I had purloined from the Manor, a small brass curtain ring in case Mr.Gibbon’s had forgotten to bring Celia’s along, luckily it wasn’t needed. No bells because of the war, and sadly no rice to throw. We had a surprisingly fine tea at the hotel with a dance to follow in the ballroom.  By this time my poor ankles where suffering and when Jane hauled me up for a waltz for the third time I had to mumble my apologies. Now our dancing attracted other residents into the ballroom and it happened that my refusal led to Jane being asked by a Canadian soldier. So she swept onto the floor whilst I studied my sore ankles. I endeavored to pries the extra leather off but was unable to undo the stitching. Jane and her partner arrived soon after and the Canadian took the shoes off me and laughing said I was to wait. He disappeared, only to return in half an hour with my shoes back to normal. So it was that somewhat reduced in size, but no longer hurting, I was able to watch the ball in progress. My thoughts were torn between wishing Laura was here, and what an absolutely waste of energy dancing was. Gerry pulled me out of my dreams and once again I was wrenched around the floor. Beth said how much smaller I had grown, and a roar of laughter followed Gerry and I as we swung around and around. The news on the bus when we were returning was that Jane had invited the Canadian to visit us. And Father had agreed.

‘But Jane lives with Aunt Agatha.’ Said I to Gerry.

‘Then we’ll see more of her down here, won’t we?’ Gerry eyed me with a grin.

Looking back now at Celia’s wedding, that ballroom, my poor ankles and Jane’s meeting her Canadian. It all led ultimately to my own happiness.

Then Jane’s Canadian friend Ted was sent up to Scotland for special training. So she came down from Aunt Agatha’s to be close to Mother and Beth. Mother was pleased, as Beth and Captain Barton’s child would be due soon. Jane was worried that Ted had joined a group of infiltrators and would be sent abroad soon, but in fact the plan fell through and a few months later he was stationed in Aldershot. Beth’s baby, a blue eyed girl was born in November and notices were sent out to Arthur in Africa and Tom in his prison of war camp. CTC, Jane’s Ted, whom Gerry and I had so nicknamed to differentiate from Ted Wallis, treated us all to a barbecue to celebrate, interesting but a cold outside experience. He told us the current temperature in Ottawa, so we didn’t complain! Beth had her baby christened Jasmine. Just to be different.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: INVASION, TRIPS AND TRIBULATIONS.

It is here that my journal entries become smaller, and the reasons could be many, I might have been too busy at school with a surfeit of compositions and algebra, or more likely the older I got the more I had to do about the estate and its books. Or perhaps it was that the war was finally turning the way of the allies. Of course it could have been sheer laziness on my part. Now I look back through the decades I suppose it must have been all of these. Especially now I had a bicycle and Laura to visit.

I remember clearly never being invited to her cottage for tea. Even her grandfather seemed loath to raise the subject and invite me. Of course it wasn’t his house, he was only a guest there. So Laura and I took to cycling along our unmarked lanes with a picnic that Cook had packed for me. Sometimes Ted came along with Clare and we would find a green to park ourselves on and dive into Cook’s sandwiches or Mrs. Wallis’s sponge cake. These were days of wonderful freedom and sheer bliss, but occasionally we would stop as the thunder of bombers crossed overhead. Then we would be sober and still as we thought of other folk receiving the onslaught of the allied bombing force. Then of course the fear of casualties from our side as we thought of the aircrews being themselves attacked both from the anti aircraft and the fighters. We would return to our homes chastened. What a sad time it was for the world. So my fifteenth, and sixteenth years proceeded unspectacularly with the war in the background and a steady schedule of schoolwork, homework, swan’s, estate ledgers and escape. Escape being by far the least in time but the most profitable for sheer enjoyment, together of course with visiting all the swans and their rivers and ponds. I found Ted and the girls to be equally enthralled with them, so often we would merge our cycling trips with visits to the waters and lakes that we came across. I built up an extensive catalogue and mapped each site diligently. In fact as I look at that exercise book crammed with facts and figures, it seemed that it was not in anyway affected by my apparent indifference to my written daily journal.

Naturally I had long since filled up Aunt Agatha’s diary, but she would supply me with a new one every Christmas. That was not all, she would ask me to let her read the summer months sections when she visited us. True it was not often she came, but as my years increased, the private things I would have liked to write down were left unrecorded. Particularly those thoughts and deeds that had occurred during our bicycle excursions! But my memory serves me well, and maybe my imagination has polished them to a brilliant sheen by their constant referral in my mind’s eye. I often wondered why my great aunt should select only that particular summer season. My uncle thought it might be that she, Agatha, considered anyone living in the countryside had probably hibernated in the other cooler seasons. I scoffed at the idea but Father thought it likely. ‘However she does enjoy reading your thoughts, and it keeps her close to Amblemead, which after all was her home, before her marriage.’

Father then grinned. ’Mark you. You have to be careful what you say in it. She says you keep mentioning your grandfather as if he was alive, so she asked me to have you examined.’

‘Well you haven’t yet.’ Said I.

‘No, otherwise we would all have to queue up to the surgery for treatment.’

‘You feel Grandpapa spirit is still about as well Father?’

‘Maybe, but your mother and sisters definitely do.