‘You mustn’t say that. You’re not a coward, and neither is Dad.’
Jake continued as if he hadn’t heard her.
‘If it hadn’t been for the baby, I honestly might have deserted,’ he murmured. ‘Only I couldn’t stand thinking that then he’d grow up knowing his dad was a coward, the way I had to. I wanted him to have a father he could respect, even if it meant lying the rest of my life about how frightened I was every time they sent us out to another damn bomb.’
Bobby let him go. ‘Do you really think that being afraid and being a coward are the same thing?’
‘Well, what’s the difference?’
‘The difference is… I honestly don’t know, because I’m not sure I really believe in cowards. That is to say, I’ve met a lot of men since this war started – and women too – who have done things the world would call brave, but I’ve never met one who hasn’t been afraid.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s my fault for reading you all those Bulldog Drummond stories when you were little. They’ve given you the idea that heroes are men who don’t know the meaning of fear, when in real life there’s no such thing. If there are men who feel no fear, they’re probably in the funny farm where they belong.’
‘What are you on about, funny farm?’
‘Everyone feels fear in the face of death, Jake. Everyone. It doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. If you didn’t feel fear when you were defusing a bomb,thenthere’d be something wrong with you. Anyone who says they’re not afraid in that situation is either lying or touched in the head.’
‘Running away makes you a coward though, doesn’t it?’
‘Perhaps, in some circumstances. But you didn’t run away.’ Bobby dipped her head to catch his gaze. ‘You didn’t, did you? You are going back?’
‘Only because I have to. Because I don’t want my kid to find out his dad was a deserter. Don’t see how that that makes me less of a coward.’ He put his neglected cigarette out in the ashtray before it burned his fingers. ‘I’ll probably wind up like Dad, screaming like a bairn and shaking all the time.’
‘You think Dad’s the only man from the last war who ended up that way? The only man from this war?’ Bobby demanded. ‘That’s what happens to someone when they’ve been dragged to hell and back, Jake. Any good, modern doctor will tell you it’s the sign of being pushed to the limit of what the human mind can stand, not cowardice.’ Bobby paused, wondering whether she ought to talk about this without her husband’s permission, then decided Jake’s need was greater. She knew her brother admired Charlie, and it might help the boy to understand. ‘You’ve noticed Charlie’s hand shaking when he smokes, I suppose.’
‘That’s because his arm was burnt when his plane caught fire.’ He frowned. ‘It is, isn’t it?’
‘Not only that,’ Bobby said quietly. ‘He has… the doctor calls them attacks. Nervous attacks, like Dad has after a bad dream.’
Jake stared at her. ‘But Charlie climbed out of his plane to put the fire out and saved those other men. That’s what you told me.’
‘He did, and the fact he was afraid doesn’t make him any less of a hero for it. If anything, it makes him more of one.’ Bobby rested a hand on her belly. ‘I hope our baby will always understand how brave his father was, no matter how Charlie might shake or cry in his sleep.’ Something occurred to her. ‘Hang on. There’s something I want to show you.’
She tiptoed to the bedroom, where Charlie still slept soundly. Quietly she took her dad’s Military Medal from a drawer, then carried it back to Jake in the parlour.
‘Here,’ she said when she was again sitting by him, opening the newspaper the medal was folded in. ‘Look at this.’
‘What is it?’
‘Take it to the fire and see.’
Jake did so, blinking at it in the red glow.
‘It’s a medal,’ he said. ‘Is it Charlie’s?’
‘No, it isn’t Charlie’s. And it’s not just any medal, it’s the Military Medal. They were awarded in the last war to soldiers who’d carried out acts of gallantry under fire. A very great honour, and one of the rarest decorations there were.’
‘Well, whose is it then?’
‘It’s Dad’s. He was awarded it for saving the lives of three men at the Somme, even though he was bleeding heavily from a shoulder wound that could have killed him. I’d never have known about it if Mam hadn’t told me on her deathbed – at least, not until he gave it me a few weeks ago.’
Jake stared at the medal with something like reverence. ‘This is really Dad’s?’
‘It is. Turn it around and see what it says.’
Jake did so. ‘For bravery in the field,’ he murmured, reading the inscription.
‘That’s right. He’s a hero, Jake.’ Bobby stood up to put a hand on his shoulder. ‘And so are you,’ she said quietly.
‘How come he never told us he’d got a medal?’
