Forget Me Not

By Valmai R Harris

It is September 1916, and Jack Stanley has enlisted to go and fight in a war on the other side of the world, leaving behind his wife, Jess, and their three children. We follow Jack and his close-knit group of mates, through months of gruelling training before they finally reach the battlefields of France, and discover for themselves, the ha

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valmai Ruth Harris
• Release date: Apr 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9780645072716

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Forget Me Not

Forget Me Not

This is a work of fiction, inspired by my grandfather’s journey through the Great War.

The characters have been created to draw a parallel between the experiences of those men and women sent from Australia to the Western Front, and the struggles of families left to fend for themselves back home.

Any similarity between my characters and persons living in that period is purely coincidental.

Certain names and place names have also been changed.

Valmai Harris

Copyright © 2019 Valmai Harris

2nd edition copyright © 2021

ISBN -13:978-0-646-80958-8

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Cover design created by Joanne Livingstone

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Author Photography

Imaginepictures.com.au

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the author.

Produced and Printed in Australia by IngramSpark

Introduction

It was Saturday afternoon, September 26th 1916.

Jess Stanley was at the table in the kitchen, ironing tablecloths for her friend, Jean O’Malley, the proprietor of the Grey Goose Hotel, just along the street.

The window was open to let in the faint breeze that stirred the gum tree in the back yard, and as the sun slanted across the kitchen, tiny dust particles danced in the light.

As she worked, Jess could hear the sounds that made up a Saturday afternoon in the central Victorian goldfields town of Bendigo.

She heard the rattle of a tram as it passed along the Main Street, and the umpire’s whistle at the local football match playing out on the oval several blocks away. These comfortable sounds were punctuated by the incessant warbling of a magpie family that had taken up residence in the gum tree that grew by the back fence.

Jess looked up as she heard the whistle of the Melbourne train, as it approached the Bendigo station. It meant that Jack would be home soon.

Jess bent to her work.

Bendigo, with its classic architecture, its wide leafy streets and its beautiful gardens, was suffering the effects of the war in Europe, just like every other town and city in Australia. People were stoically going about their everyday lives, knowing that every time news reached them from ‘over there,’ it was seldom good news.

The number of men and women leaving their occupations to go and fight alongside the Allied Forces was growing daily, and those left behind, struggled to cope with the gaps left by their absence.

Jess sighed as she placed the flat iron on the stove and waited for it to heat. She glanced out the window and thought about the future if Jack passed his medical. He would probably be among the next group to leave the town. That’s where he had been this particular Saturday, in Melbourne, joining the long queue of men anxious to do their bit for their country.

Jess glanced at the clock above the mantel. It was nearly four o’clock. Picking up the flat iron, she continued smoothing the white damask cloths.

Part One

The Enlistment

Today I picked forget-me-nots,

And pressed them in a book, for you.

A keepsake, to remind you

of my love so strong and true.

Think of me when I’m far away

on a distant war-torn shore,

And remember, just like the forget-me-not,

That it’s you I’ll be fighting for.

Jack and Jess`

The screen door squeaked and then slammed.

Jess looked up sharply. She placed the flat iron on the stove, brushed a stand of golden hair from her face and waited. The mantel clock ticked loudly. She heard footsteps along the passage. They stopped at the kitchen door.

Without turning, she said, How did you get on?

I passed my medical.

Why now, Jack? Still without turning.

It seems right that I go now.

Jess turned, her hazel eyes glistening with anger and fear.

This bloody war has been going for two years, and now you should go?

I didn’t do all that artillery training at Williamstown, for no reason, Jess.

I know. Jess sighed heavily.

If our Gracie hadn’t come along when she did, I’d be in France now, with the local lads from the 38th Battalion. That outbreak of meningitis at the Epsom Training Camp, back in January, put me right out of the running.

Jess flicked her head, in a gesture of irritation.

And you blame the birth of your daughter for that?

He frowned. Come on, Jess, please be reasonable. Gracie was only three months old. I couldn’t stay at the Epsom Camp. I couldn’t risk her health.

Jess’s shoulders slumped. I have to be thankful for small mercies, I suppose.

We can’t let Gerry win this war, Jess.

The fire in Jess’s eyes cooled. She smiled wanly at her husband. He was dressed in his best suit; actually it was his only suit, bought for their wedding day, nine years ago. It was a little frayed at the cuffs, but he was still as handsome as he had been then. She smiled at the memory. His brown hair flopped over his brow, as it had a tendency to do. Jess took his hands and gazed into his serious brown eyes.

I know, Jack. I get so angry about the whole thing. War is such a waste of human energy, whatever side you are on. It doesn’t achieve anything. She looked at the military issue bag on his shoulder. When do you go?

Jack was silent for a moment before he said softly, Day after tomorrow I have to go down to Williamstown. Probably have to do more training. It depends how desperate they are to get men to the Western Front.

What about me, Jack? How am I going to cope all alone, with three children? Jess’s eyes glistened with unshed tears and her shoulders heaved.

Jack gathered her into his arms.

You’ll be alright, Jess. You’ll get two-thirds of my wages while I’m away, and mum and dad are just around the corner. I’m sure Jean O’Malley will still want you to do her ironing. After all, you are the best in the business.

Jess twisted to look at the clock on the wall above the fireplace.

My goodness, Jack! Jean has the children, and I promised I’d have these tablecloths done by 4 o’clock. It’s almost that time now, and I haven’t finished. She looked imploringly at Jack. Could you please go and get the children, and tell Jean I’ll be along shortly?

I can do that, He said easily, throwing the kit bag down on to a chair.

As he turned to go, Jess made a grab for the iron, which had been sitting on the stove. The handle was hot. She let go quickly and reached for a cloth to wrap around the handle. What a stupid thing to do!

Are you alright? asked Jack from the doorway.

Yes, yes. You go. I’m not thinking.

The screen door creaked as he opened it, and then it slammed.

Damn! she cursed out loud.

Jess threw herself into her task, and in half an hour, she had a pile of freshly ironed tablecloths ready for delivery. Jack would be home soon, with their three children, and a meat pie was cooking slowly in the oven. The front door slammed, and Jess heard the clatter of running footsteps along the passage. The kitchen door burst open and two small boys rushed towards her, both speaking at once.

Ma, Mrs. O’Malley gave us some cakes! We have to share them. That was Ben, the oldest; a brown-haired seven-year-old, who looked just like his father.

Ma, Mrs. O’Malley said we were very good. That was Edward, her fair-haired, blue-eyed five-years old.

Jess knelt down and they handed her their precious chocolate cupcakes.

What lucky children!

She looked up as Jack came through the doorway, carrying the squirming eleven-month-old baby, Grace. She had golden curls and the same green-flecked eyes as her mother. Her cheeks were red, as she struggled to get down. Jack obliged.

Mama? Ca’, mama!

You’ve got cake too, have you, Grace? Jess laughed.

I have one for Gracie, said Jack, reaching in to his jacket pocket. He pulled out a squashed cupcake, and handed it to Jess with a wry smile.

Sorry about that, he muttered.

Never mind, laughed Jess. Let’s put these on a plate, and we can have them after tea. She looked at Jack. I must take these tablecloths to Jean. There’s a pie in the oven, Jack. Get the children cleaned up, and I’ll be back shortly.

Right! said Jack, clapping his hands. Who’s first for a wash?

Jess smiled her gratitude, placed the cakes on a plate, scooped the ironing into a large cane basket, and headed for the front door.

You might want to wear a coat, called Jack to her retreating back. There’s a sneaky wind springing up out there.

I’ll be back before I have a chance to get cold. The screen door slammed.

She turned right on Oleanda Street. There was a nip in the air, so she hurried to keep warm. The hotel was two blocks away. Her footsteps echoed on the asphalt footpath, and she kept her head down, to avoid the wind stinging her eyes.

The high grey walls of the hotel, covered tenaciously with ivy, loomed up ahead. A metal sign, featuring a grey goose in flight, banged fitfully over the main entrance, which sat squarely at the fork of Oleander Street, and Upper Oleander Street. The bar door swung open, spilling light and two sturdy figures on to the street. The men lurched drunkenly on the footpath.

Jess waited until their footsteps died away, and then walked quickly along the south side of the hotel to the entrance of the Ladies Lounge. She heard laughter and the faint sound of a piano. Jess looked around for Mrs. O’Malley. The lady was behind the bar. She spotted Jess, whispered something to the barman, went to the till and then headed towards her visitor.

Jean O’Malley was a rather stout woman with a round, cheery face and silver hair that escaped from its restraining combs. She had been the proprietor of the local pub, since the death of her husband some years before.

Jess, dear, I didn’t expect you quite so soon. She took the basket from Jess, and handed her some coins. Jack tells me he’s off to the war.

He’s enlisted and is off to the training camp. Jess suddenly felt uncomfortable.

The Maitland boys are, too.

Both of them?

Yes. Frank and Bill have both left their jobs at the railways, to go and fight.

This war is taking a lot of young men, replied Jess. ‘Now they’re taking my Jack.’

Tears burned her cheeks as she fled the hotel.

At her front gate, she stopped to take a deep breath. Her legs trembled as she looked up at her home; a plain, cream painted weatherboard cottage with a faded red iron roof. It was the ‘ugly duckling’ in a row of red brick terraces, but it was theirs; hers and Jack’s, and in her current moment of anger and uncertainty, it felt strangely comforting.

Taking another deep breath, Jess walked unsteadily up the concrete steps to the verandah. Opening the front door, she stood for a moment. The sound of childish laughter reached her ears. Fixing a smile on her face she headed for the kitchen.

Back already? Jack frowned. You look flushed, Jess. Is anything the matter?

No, no, I’m fine. I hurried to get out of the wind.

Jess grabbed an apron from the hook behind the kitchen door.

The pie smells good. she said, tying the apron around her waist.

Come on, children, time to eat. Jack lifted Grace into her highchair.

When they were all seated around the table, he looked across at Jess.

Let’s give thanks for this food. Everyone bowed their head, except Grace, and Jack proceeded to give thanks. For what we are about to receive, Lord, we are truly thankful. Amen.

When they had all finished, Jess cut the cakes and handed them around.

Now you can have your treat.

Looks like the dish washer has an easy job tonight! exclaimed Jack.

Jess got up, scraping her chair on the floor.

Why don’t I do the dishes tonight? Jack, what about lighting the fire in the lounge, and playing with the children before they go to bed?

Their eyes met across the table. Jess wanted Jack to spend precious time with his children before he went away.

Good idea. Come on, children.

Jack lifted Grace out of her chair, and they headed out of the warmth of the kitchen, closing the door behind them.

Jess slumped against her chair. How was she going to manage all of this without Jack? Shaking her head, she began to clear the table.

When the dishes were done, Jess checked on the fire in the stove. The coals were still glowing, so she placed another log in the firebox and closed the door.

The front end of the house was bouncing as she headed towards the lounge. The sound of childish laughter reached her ears, and her heart gave a sudden spasm. Jack loved his children, and he would be suffering at the thought of leaving them.

The warmth enveloped her, and she smiled as she saw Jack pretending to be a horse, with Grace on his back. He looked up and saw her watching, so he did a belly flop on to the floor, and Grace tumbled off, shrieking with delight. Jack rolled over and Jess held out her hands to him. He sprang lightly to his feet. Their hands remained entwined, and Jess felt his grip tighten.

Looks like you’ve got the troops stirred up tonight, Private Stanley. Now you’ll have to get them to bed. Her eyes were glassy, and she blinked rapidly. Jack kissed the tip of her nose.

Trying to be brave, my love? he whispered.

Yes, she retorted, pushing him away.

For a moment they stared at one another, before Jack turned to his children.

Come on, troops, the Captain has spoken. It’s time for bed.

There was no argument from the boys. Jack scooped Grace up in his arms, and they left the room. Tears spilled down Jess’s cheeks. Why did this have to happen, when everything was so good? She brushed impatiently at her wet cheeks.

She pushed the old brown couch in front of the fire, and threw on another piece of wood. It crackled and sizzled, and flames leapt up into the chimney. Then she stood with her back to the warmth, and waited for Jack.

The heat burnt her legs through her grey twill skirt, so she turned to sit on the old couch. It sank beneath her weight, as the cushions were well worn. Unbuttoning her shoes, Jess kicked them off, and stretched her toes out towards the fire.

Jack appeared, holding two steaming cups of tea. All done.

As he sat beside her, Jess tucked her knees beneath her, and they drank in silence.

Did you say anything to the boys about your leaving?

Hm. I told them I had to go away, and they’d have to look after you and Gracie.

And what about your mum and dad?

I called in there on my way home from the train station. Mum was anxious, of course, and dad said that I was doing the right thing.

It will mean he has to employ another plumber.

He’s going to take on young Simon Knight as an apprentice.

They sat in silence again, sipping tea until their cups were empty. Jack stood up, put both cups on the mantel, and sat down again, gathering Jess into his arms. They didn’t speak, but sat entwined, listening to the crackle of the fire, until it died down to glowing embers. Finally Jack stirred.

Come on, my love. Let’s have an early night.

He got up and moved to the door. Jess stood up, slipped her feet into her shoes, placed the copper guard, with its embossed red setter dogs, in front of the dying remains of the fire, picked up the cups and followed Jack from the room.

After returning the cups to the kitchen and banking the fire for the night, she made her way to the bathroom. There she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and opening a small cupboard above the basin, took out a glass atomizer and sprayed it over her hair. The room was immediately filled with the sweet smell of lavender. After running her fingers through her hair, she turned down the light, and headed for the bedroom. Jack’s eyes were closed and his breathing was regular. Jess slipped out of her clothes and into a fine cotton nightdress, turned down the light and padded across the cold floor to the bed. Slipping in between the sheets, she slid her arm around her sleeping husband. He turned, groaned deeply and gathered her into his arms.

Oh, Jack, she murmured against his chest. I can’t bear the thought of being without you.

Don’t even think about it tonight, my love, he whispered into her hair.

Some time later, and still entwined in each other’s arms, Jack felt the warmth of her tears on his chest. He breathed in the fragrance of her hair, and promised himself that he would never forget that sweet smell, no matter where he might chance to be.

Final Day

The following morning, Jess awoke to the sun filtering through the lace curtains, making patterns on the blue bed quilt. She rubbed her eyes. Jack was standing at the window. He was dressed in trousers and shirt, and stood staring out on to the street. Jess lay and watched him. He was not a big man, but there was strength in his shoulders and straight back.

Jack must have sensed her watching him, for he half turned.

I’d like us all to go to Church this morning, he said simply.

Jess shuddered. I wanted today to be ours.

It’s an opportunity for me to say good-bye to some of our friends.

Jess winced. I’m sorry. You’re right, of course. So you should. I just thought that it might be nice for us to go to the park and have a picnic.

Jack turned to face her. We can do that as well, if you like.

I’d like that very much, Jack.

A childish cry reached their ears. Grace was awake.

I’ll go, said Jack, tucking in his shirt, and sprinting from the room.

Jess threw the covers back and scrambled out of bed. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet, as she reached for her slippers. Wrapping her blue chenille dressing gown around her, she padded down the passage.

Time to put on your Sunday best, boys! she called as she passed their bedroom. Jack and Grace were talking gibberish in the third bedroom. Jess smiled softly to herself. Those two understood one another perfectly.

After dealing with her morning ablutions, Jess entered the warm kitchen, and opened the firebox. A few coals still glowed there. She took some kindling from the basket on the hearth, and placed them on the hot coals. As soon as they had taken hold, she put some larger pieces of wood on top, closed the firebox, and shifted the kettle over the heat.

The clock on the mantel read 8.30. She poured the porridge oats into a large saucepan, and put it on the stove. It was time to get dressed.

Jess took her favourite dress from the wardrobe. It was pale green cotton, with tiny sprigs of forget-me-nots. It had long, tight sleeves and a high neck with panels of lace across the bodice. It was a little old-fashioned, but she knew Jack liked to see her wearing it.

Lifting her arms she eased the dress over her head, and it fell into place around her body. After doing up the hooks at the waist, and buttoning her shoes, Jess surveyed herself in the large mirror on the wardrobe door. She was still able to get away with not wearing a corset.

She ran her fingers through her unruly hair, and headed back to the kitchen. Ben and Edward dived out of their room in front of her and rushed outside, banging the kitchen door behind them. They were dressed.

Jack was in the kitchen, putting Grace in her highchair. He glanced up.

My favourite dress, she heard him murmur.

Jess said nothing. She put bowls and spoons on the table, and went outside to fetch milk from the ice chest that stood on the verandah beside the washhouse.

When she returned, everyone was seated, and Jack was spooning the thick porridge into bowls. Jess poured milk and a little honey into each steaming bowl, and soon they were all eating quietly, except Grace, who insisted on banging her spoon into the middle and laughing at the spray of milk. The boys watched on in amusement as their father wrestled the spoon from her chubby hand.

Grace! No! Jack directed the spoon towards her mouth. She clenched her teeth on it, and Jack looked beseechingly at Jess, who was trying not to smile.

Grace will have to go hungry if she won’t eat her porridge, said Jess matter-of-factly, and you boys can go and finish getting ready, if you have had enough. There was the scrape of chairs as they made to leave. Just a minute! They halted. Ben, please help Edward clean his boots.

The two boys created a cool draught as they flung open the kitchen door.

Jess sighed and turned her attention back to Jack and Grace. He had won the battle and Grace was now meekly eating her porridge.

Good, said Jess. I’ll leave you to it, and go and finish getting ready.

In the bedroom, she found a pale green felt beret crumpled at the back of the drawer. After straightening it out, she pulled it on her head. Stray strands of gold peeped out from its brim. Jack poked his head around the door. He had Grace.

I’ll round the boys up and meet you at the front gate.

Jess nodded, wrapping a cream knitted shawl around her shoulders.

Jack disappeared down the passage, calling to the boys as he went.

Ben! Edward! Look sharp you two. We’re about to leave.

Jess hurried into Grace’s room to look for a warm jacket. She found one knitted by Jack’s mother; cream wool with a little beret to match. Did Grace have shoes on? She couldn’t remember, but she couldn’t find any discarded from the night before. In the kitchen her eyes did the usual scan. The stove had been banked, and the dishes washed. Oh, Jack, I’m going to miss you. Tears prickled her eyes.

Grabbing a baby’s milk bottle from the ice chest on the back verandah, Jess hurried back inside.

She locked the front door, placed the key under the potted rubber plant, and hurried down the steps. The gate creaked as she closed it. Jack and the children were some yards ahead. So much for waiting for me, Jack! Clutching Grace’s clothes in one hand, she held up her skirt and ran to catch up with them.

Running, Mrs. Stanley? Jack remarked, as she took his arm.

You turned this into a race, Jack. Now, can we slow down, please?

The pace slowed fractionally as they passed the imposing ivy covered walls of the Grey Goose Hotel, gleaming in the morning sunshine. They walked on down the hill, crossed another road, and were soon outside the red brick Congregational Church. They heard the organ wheeze into life with the strains of ‘What a friend we have in Jesus,’ as they lifted the heavy cane pram up the steps to the porch. The heavy door creaked loudly as Jack opened it, and many heads turned as the family crept, none too quietly to an empty pew near the back. Jack joined in with the singing, while Jess stood silently until the organ had wheezed to a halt.

When she sat down, the pew was cold and unyielding against her back. She glanced around to see who was there. Jack’s parents were sitting in the front row, and behind them the Maitland boys with two young ladies sitting close beside them. Jess flicked her eyes across the scattered congregation, and studied the church in detail. The walls were cream, and in need of a fresh coat of paint. Along the east and west walls were a number of stained glass windows, depicting scenes from the gospels. The sun was shining brightly through the east windows, bringing those scenes into vibrant life.

A large arched window rose above the pulpit, and shot out a kaleidoscope of patterns across the red carpet. The scene in the middle caught Jess’s attention and she stared at it for a long time. It was Christ the good shepherd, carrying a lamb across his shoulders. In the dappled light he seemed to be smiling at her. The preacher was announcing another hymn, and she hadn’t heard a word he had said. Jess rose to her feet, and stood silently while Jack sang lustily. His eyes ventured across to her, and she returned his look with an apologetic little smile.

When the organ rattled to a halt, Jess felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked up to see a pretty young woman with heavy-rimmed spectacles, and dark hair cascading down over her shoulders. It was Sally Mitchell.

Would you like me to take the children out to the Sunday school, Mrs. Stanley?

Oh, yes please, Sally, replied Jess, as the boys were already on their way out of the pew, pushing past with eager haste. Jack reached across and handed Grace to Sally, who moved off after the two boys. The door crashed shut behind them.

Jess and Jack both moved closer together. Jack took her hand and squeezed it gently. Jess felt a bubble of emotion rise up in her chest. She swallowed hard.

The preacher began his sermon. Jess began to count the triangles of stained glass above his head, as she willed him to finish.

Finally she heard the word, ‘amen’. His eyes raked the small congregation. Three members of our flock are about to answer the call of duty and will head off tomorrow to begin working for their country. I am referring to Jack Stanley, and Frank and Bill Maitland. We wish them Godspeed, and a safe return when this awful business comes to an end. Let us pray.

Heads bowed and Jess gripped Jack’s hand, rather tighter than necessary.

The preacher concluded with a prayer, before he strode up the aisle and swung the heavy door open. A rush of air swept through the church.

Jess excused herself and made her way to the hall to collect her children.

People were scattered around the churchyard. Jess looked around for Jack. He was in conversation with his father. Charles Stanley was a burly man, unlike Jack, and with his thick grey hair and bushy beard, looked fierce and intimidating.

Jess saw Margaret Stanley heading towards her. She had the same fine features and warm brown eyes as her son, and she smiled softly at Jess.

Margaret looked very petite in a coat of grey wool over a pale blue dress that reached the fashionable length of above the ankles. A close-fitting matching hat covered her grey hair, but wisps had escaped and framed her pale face.

How are you feeling about all this, Jess?

Jess shrugged. It’s what he feels he has to do, Margaret.

I know, Jess, but I’m terrified for him. Tears were brimming in her eyes.

Jess nodded wordlessly.

Seeing Jack approaching, Margaret murmured, I mustn’t let him see me like this.

It’s hard not to, whispered Jess.

The Ring

Are we going on a picnic?

There was a chorus from the boys. Yes! Let’s go to the park. Let’s play cricket!

It was unanimous, and within half an hour the family was heading in the direction of the town proper. They passed shops and Sunday strollers, and the impressive Alexandra Fountain, which graced the centre of the town. It’s white stone maidens gleamed in the midday sun, and water spurted from the mouths of the polished stone horses that stood above the pool.

Crossing the busy main street, they came to Rosalind Park, where leafy elm trees were green and lush, and garden beds were bursting with spring flowers.

They found a spot, away from other picnickers, and Jack produced a blanket from the pram. He spread it on the grass.

Jess knelt down and opened the basket. Who’s hungry?

There was a chorus of ‘yes’, so she set out table napkins, and on each she placed a hard-boiled egg, bread, and a small slice of leftover pie.

This looks good enough to eat, said Jack, rubbing his hands together.

Everyone tucked in, even Grace, with a little help from her father.

Jess then produced a jam tart, which she cut into slices, and shared around.

Now look what I have as a special treat! She held up two bottles of lemonade.

Where did you find those? asked Jack.

Mrs. O’Malley gave them to me. I’ve been saving them for a special occasion.

She poured the precious liquid into cups and handed them around. The boys drank without hesitation. They didn’t get lemonade very often.

Jess lifted her cup to her lips, and looked at Jack over the rim. He returned her look and they both drank simultaneously.

When all the crumbs had gone, the two boys grabbed their cricket gear.

Come on dad, said Ben, Let’s play.

We’ve just eaten, Ben. Can’t we rest for a while?

No, cried Edward, trying to haul his father to his feet.

But we haven’t got enough for a team, protested Jack.

That doesn’t matter, answered Edward matter-of-factly. We don’t need a team.

Jack got to his feet, looking beseechingly at Jess, who ignored his look, and began to repack the picnic basket. He sighed, as he removed his suit coat, and rolled up his sleeves.

Grace was rubbing fiercely at her eyes. Jess picked her up and laid her in the pram, hoping that she would go to sleep. The hazel eyes drooped. Jess rocked the pram gently, and Grace was soon asleep.

She sat on the blanket and watched the progress of the modified cricket match. Jack was wicket keeper, Ben had the bat and Edward bowled a reasonable ball, which Ben failed to hit. Jack caught it and threw it back to Edward. He bowled again, and this time Ben hit it.

Run, Ben! shouted Jack. Ben made it back to the wicket, as the ball sailed past.

It was thrown too hard for it to have been Edward. Suddenly they found that a few young lads wanted to join in, and the game cranked up a few notches.

Edward found himself fielding, while a lanky youth with straw coloured hair, sent the ball down to Ben with more vigour than he could handle.

Go easy on the lad, called Jack. He can’t hit them at that pace.

Jack looked over at Jess and she caught his grin, just as the lanky youth bowled. Ben missed, and the ball hit the unsuspecting Jack in the middle. He doubled up.

Hey wicket keeper, called out the lanky youth, Keep your eye on the ball.

Jack grimaced, and beckoned to another lad who was standing near-by.

Here, lad, take over, will you?

The boy needed no further urging. Jack sank down on the rug beside Jess.

They can sort it out, he groaned. I need a rest.

He grabbed his suit coat, retrieved his pipe from the pocket and proceeded to plug it with tobacco. He lit it, and soon he was inhaling gently.

That’s better, he murmured as he settled down with his head on Jess’s lap.

Jess felt the peace of the afternoon drift across her. The sun was warm on her bare head, her baby was sleeping, the sounds of laughter carried on the warm air, and the man she loved was close by. If only the moment could last forever, she thought drowsily.

A sudden shout made her aware of her surroundings.

Run, Ben! Then It’s a six for sure!

The ball had disappeared into another crowd of picnickers. Ben ran for all he was worth, but soon gave it up, as the hunt went on for the ball.

It was handed over, along with a stern warning from an irate gentleman whose drink had been sent flying by the errant cricket ball.

Jack tapped out his pipe, got to his feet and strolled over to the boys who were looking a little deflated.

A little less enthusiasm, lads, he said. Other people are enjoying the park.

There were mutterings from some of the boys, but they duly resumed their game and the rest of the afternoon passed peaceably enough.

Finally it was time to pack up and head for home. The sun had lost some of its warmth and a light breeze had sprung up.

Back home, the evening chores began. Grace was awake and had to be attended to immediately. The boys went to collect the eggs and make sure the chooks were fed and watered. Jack went off to the bedroom to begin packing his bag for the coming journey. Jess filled the copper in the washhouse and lit the fire beneath it, ready for the large volume of washing that had appeared. She needed to do it now, for tomorrow was a day she dared not think about.

As she stood at the trough, Jack appeared in the doorway.

I have to go out for a few minutes, love. Won’t be long.

Out? Where? but he was gone.

Jess tossed her head, in a characteristic gesture of annoyance. Where was he going at this late hour?

Finally the washing was billowing gently on the clothesline, but there was no sign of Jack. The children were quiet, so Jess pulled off her apron and went to the bathroom to rearrange her hair. Tendrils curled around her face, and she knew that Jack found this so endearing.

As she returned to the kitchen, Jack appeared, carrying a large box.

What have you got there?

I’ll show you, he whispered conspiratorially, opening the lid.

A cream sponge! Jess exclaimed. Jack, where did you get that?

Mum made it for us, as a special treat.

Jess smiled at Jack across the table.

It looks lovely. Her eyes glistened. I have just the plate for it.

Jack carefully lifted the cake from its box, and on to a special plate that Jess had found in the dresser. She cut slices of the sponge, and handed them around.

Within minutes the cake was eaten.

I’ll go and light the bath heater, said Jack, pushing back his chair.

Left alone, Jess sat for a moment, toying with her spoon. The time was edging away from her, and she wanted to hold back every single minute.

The sound of laughter reached her ears. Jess made her way to the bathroom, and stood in the doorway. It was just like any other Sunday, but it felt different.

Time to get out!

Jack turned quickly, unaware that she was there.

Are the boys going to school tomorrow? he asked, lifting Grace out of the bath.

No. Jess threw towels around the two wet boys standing before her.

No school! exclaimed Edward, rubbing himself vigorously. Why?

Ben gave him a nudge.

Dad’s going to be soldier. Is that right, dad? Ben’s brow was furrowed with the effort of remembering what his father had told him the night before.

That’s right, Ben. Jack looked up at Jess, who was wrapping Grace in a towel.

With a uniform? Edward’s imagination was captured now.

Yes, with a uniform.

Can I see it?

You’ll see it tomorrow, said Jack ruffling his son’s wet hair.

Alright! Jess lifted Grace. Time to get dressed before you all catch a chill.

Finally the house was quiet. Jess went to find Jack. He wasn’t in the boys’ room. She could hear them murmuring to each other in the darkened room. He wasn’t in Grace’s room. She was gurgling to herself.

The lounge was in darkness, as was the bedroom.

Jess smiled to herself, and wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, opened the front door. Jack was sitting on the bench seat on the verandah, his legs outstretched as he puffed gently on his pipe.

She closed the door quietly and sat beside him.

What are you doing out here? She pulled her shawl closer around her.

Just thinking that I’m going to miss all this.

Oh Jack, sometimes I wish we didn’t have to go through this.

The soft moonlight was shining on her face, and her eyes gleamed.

Jess! You can’t possibly mean that!

She turned to look at him, and at once her face was masked by shadow.

No, she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder.

They sat in silence, each busy with their own thoughts.

Jess trembled convulsively. Jack immediately put an arm around her shoulders.

It’s going to be alright, love. I could be home before you know it. The war could be over before I even leave Australia.

I’m going to miss you.

I’m going to miss you, too, more than you know.

Jess stood up. Wait here for a moment, was all she said, and disappeared inside.

She went into the bedroom. In the wooden box that stood on the dressing table, she found a gold ring. Jess fingered it gently before shutting the box.

Jack was standing, enjoying a last puff on his pipe.

Remember this, Jack? she said, holding out the ring.

Of course. He took it from her. You gave it to me when we got married.

And because of your job, you couldn’t wear it, so it’s been in my box ever since.

Taking the ring, Jack held it up to catch the moonlight. He turned to Jess and recited:

All my love, Jess.

Take it with you, Jack, even if you have to wear it around your neck.

Jack put the ring on the little finger of his left hand. It was a perfectly plain band of gold. He looked at Jess. Her eyes were brilliant in the soft moonlight.

Now we’ll never really be apart, she whispered, as Jack pulled her to him.

No matter what, he murmured into her hair.

Parting

Brilliant sunshine flooded the bedroom as Jess opened her eyes. If it had been any other spring day, she would have been out of bed and ready to explore it, but it wasn’t. It was the day that she had been dreading.

Her hand reached across the bed. The sheets were cold. Jack had been up for some time. Throwing back the covers, Jess slipped into her dressing gown and slippers, and made her way down the passage to the kitchen.

Jack was busy with the porridge, and the kettle was singing merrily. Ben and Edward were both sitting waiting for their breakfast. They were all dressed.

Have I missed something? Jess pushed back her hair, as she took in the scene. Couldn’t sleep, said Jack, and I didn’t want to disturb you, so I came out here and got the breakfast started. The boys were already up. Grace is still sleeping soundly. He smiled at her frowning face. Ready for porridge?

No, not yet. The mantel clock read 8 o’clock as Jess headed for the back door.

When she returned, the boys were noisily eating their porridge. Jess went through to the bathroom, where she held her hands under the cold running water. She looked in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy, and her hair was a mess. She pressed wet fingers to her eyes, and looked at herself wryly. Apart from smoothing her hair, there was very little else she could do.

There was still no noise from Grace’s room, so she went back to the kitchen. Jack had put out a bowl of steaming porridge for her. She looked apologetically at him.

I’m not really hungry, she pushed the plate away.

The front door closed, and Margaret Stanley appeared at the kitchen door.

Am I too early? she asked softly.

The two boys scrambled off their chairs and ran to her embrace.

Grandma! She held them both for a moment.

The little one still in bed?

Yes, said Jack as his mother gave him a brief hug.

Jess noted that her mother-in-law looked very neat for this time of the morning. Her silver hair was pulled back into a bun and her pale blue suit fit snugly to her slender form. She wore a white shirt with pin tucking across the bodice, and everything about her breathed elegance.

Where’s dad? asked Jack.

He’ll be along shortly, to drive the boys to school in the motorcar.

They’re not going to school today, said Jess, frowning, as she looked at Jack.

Charles thought it might be a distraction for them, began Margaret tentatively. Jess flicked her head with annoyance. Damn him, she thought angrily, but she saw the eagerness on her sons’ faces and said reluctantly,

He might be right. She pushed back her chair. I must go and get dressed.

As she opened the kitchen door, she could hear Grace crying.

I’ll go, said Margaret quickly. Come on boys, let’s get your sister up.

Jess fled to her bedroom. What could she wear? Margaret looked so neat, but then she always did. Jess picked up the dress with the blue forget-me-nots. It lay on the floor, where it had fallen last night, when Jack had taken her to their bed. The memory of that union was bittersweet, and her fingers trembled as she picked up the dress. She was pulling it over her head, when Jack appeared at the door.

Mum is in her element looking after the children.

Jess felt the tears flowing down her cheeks. Jack put his arms around her, holding her close. They stood together until Jess’s sobs had subsided.

I must look a sight. She laughed shakily, as she moved out of his embrace.

Jess retreated to the bathroom to repair the damage to her tear-soaked face.

When she returned to the bedroom, Jack was resplendent in his khaki uniform. She smiled tremulously at him,

You look… just like a soldier.

I hope so, and you look like a lady. He kissed the tip of her nose. Time to face the judges. He took her hand, and together they headed for the kitchen.

Grace was in her highchair, and Margaret was trying to get her to eat her porridge. The two boys were nowhere to be seen.

Margaret looked up as they entered. Her eyes were moist.

Very handsome, Jack, she whispered.

Thank-you, mother. He planted a kiss on her head. Where are the boys?

They’ve gone to wait for Charles. She added, and the motorcar.

The front door squeaked and slammed.

No running in the house, boys! boomed a loud masculine voice.

The two boys entered the kitchen, followed by the burly figure of their grandfather. Charles Stanley cut an impressive figure in his driving jacket and leather cap, which he swept off his head upon entering the room.

Everyone was looking in Jack’s direction, and there was silence for an uncomfortable length of time. Finally Jack spoke.

When you’ve all finished gawking, do I look alright?

Very impressive, I must say, son. Charles was nodding approval.

Charles, ventured Margaret quietly, did you bring the camera?

Of course. Charles held up the box camera.

Can we take some photographs, perhaps out on the front steps?

Whenever you’re ready, Jack. Charles had turned to his