The Boer War was also the topic of conversation over the Dawsons’ supper table.
‘What was it like, Dad?’ Bernard wanted to know. Bernard, the eldest at twenty-four, was always the one to lead the conversation round the meal table. ‘I know you weren’t in it yourself, but you must have read about it.’
‘It was a messy war,’ Len said. ‘The British losses were high because of disease as well as actual combat. Typhoid, dysentery and the like were rife. I’m glad I wasn’t in it. Some lads from the village – well, they’re men now, of course – were involved and they reckoned that the British soldiers were unprepared for the type of countryside they were fighting in and poorly trained for the conditions they faced.’
‘Really, Len, must we talk about such things over the supper table and in front of Boy too?’ Norah said.
‘I’m not a boy, Ma,’ Harold said indignantly. ‘I’ll soon be old enough to fight for my country, just like my brothers. I wish everyone would stop calling me that childish nickname.’
‘That’s the spirit, Harold,’ Ma said and her glance rested for a moment on William, but, yet again, he was taking no part in the conversation. She wondered how long it would be before the rest of the family noticed his reticence, but at present the excitement amongst the other three boys masked his silence.
Bernard was still talking animatedly. He was of average height but muscular from his work at the anvil, for it was he who had taken on the blacksmithing, helped by Harold, who was learning the trade under his guidance. He had brown hair and twinkling eyes and a ready smile, though his expression could darken in a trice, for he had a swift temper. He was a great favourite with the village girls, though at present he did not have a serious girlfriend.
Roy, however, who helped his father in the carpenter’s workshop, was walking out with Betty Cooper, the daughter of the farm manager on Mrs Maitland’s estate. Betty worked in the dairy and their courtship was approved of by both families. Even Ma, who was very choosy about who her grandchildren should keep company with, approved of the quietly spoken, well-mannered girl. Betty was a pretty girl with fair hair, a clear skin and she openly adored Roy. Roy resembled his father; he was thin and wiry with light brown hair.
‘Though you’re far too young to be thinking of marriage yet,’ Ma, who still had some sway in the family, had pronounced when the blossoming romance had become common knowledge. ‘I don’t believe in women working once they are married. They should be in the home caring for their husband and any children that might come along. And they will come along, so, Roy, you need to be earning enough to keep both of you, and don’t tell me the old adage “two can live as cheaply as one”, because it’s nonsense.’
But the brother who had a real roving eye was young Harold. Tall for his age, Harold was a good-looking, cheeky sixteen-year-old – well, almost – and the village girls of the same age simpered and blushed whenever he winked saucily at them.
William had never shown any interest in the village girls; he knew that if anyone found out about the girl who held his heart in the palm of her hand, he would be mocked and ridiculed. So, he kept silent, just as he was keeping quiet now whilst the talk of war – and his brothers’ excitement – raged around him. He was the quiet one in the family. He could see his grandmother glancing at him now and again. Thankfully, she seemed to be the only one who had noticed his reluctance to join in the conversation and he was grateful to her for not trying to engage him in the discussions. But just as William was thinking he was being overlooked, Bernard suddenly became aware of his brother’s silence.
‘What about you, William?’ he asked his brother directly. ‘Will you volunteer?’
There was a waiting stillness around the table, as if all the other members of the family now realized that William had not yet voiced his opinion about the threat of war. Colour flooded William’s face, but he said steadily and firmly, ‘No, I wouldn’t.’