The Stonnall Brigade: 60 Short Stories. Fact, Fiction Mystery, Suspense and Romance.

By David S. Smith

For many years I have wanted to commit some thoughts to paper and this is a random collection of ideas that have just poured out.
Some are true; others are based on fact while the remainder are ideas that just came into my head.

Many friends who read my stories have enjoyed them and encouraged me to publish them in a book form.

So what you have here is a miscellany or as my Brother in Law described them a box of assorted assortments.

I hope that readers will enjoy my deliberations and perhaps smile, recall a similar event in their past or maybe shed a tear.

But most of all enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504935265

David S. Smith

David S. Smith. The Bronze Butterfly is Davids first novel. It explores a series of events that turn the world on its head and perhaps reverse history in a way that some may feel is uncomfortable. The story is observed throughout the world under the close scrutiny of the television camera. The final outcome is for you to decide but the journey is fun. This is Davids third book and follows his collection of 60 short stories, The Stonnall Brigade and his first book Lily that is an account of his mothers life growing up in Birmingham from the First World War to the end of the second. His varied career has included marketing regional newspapers, running a theatre ticketing agency, a computer company and fashion magazines. He went on to launch his own advertising and marketing business before entering into the world of politics becoming Leader of Lichfield District Council and later Council Chairman. He was responsible for the construction and development of the Lichfield Garrick Theatre and made a significant contribution to the economic development of the district. David received an honorary doctorate from the University of Staffordshire in 2006. He also played a major role both regionally and nationally when he was Chairman of the West Midlands Regional Assembly. As a member of Staffordshire County Council his major interests are in Regional Development and the environment. David is married with a son and a daughter and has five grandchildren.

Book preview

1

The Stonnall Brigade

When we sit in Church and remember those that were killed in the First World War we know so little about any of them. This is my attempt to remember them in a different way.

I ’m not daft, just a bit slow. I can do my numbers but sometimes they come out backwards. When we go round the class doing our tables I get all confused. My reading and writing is also a bit slow, some of the boys tease me and call me loopy but never when I have my best friends with me. My favourite subject is History. I can tell you everything you want to know, all about Nelson and Wellington but I can’t get it down in writing. My Mom says I was left too long under the gooseberry bush and it hurt my brain. I wish I knew what I could do to be like other boys. The first thing I can really remember was the party we had in the Mission hall for the Kings Coronation, the old Queen had died and everyone was very happy that the new King had taken over. We had lots of sandwiches and jelly and strawberries from the garden of the manor house. I had had strawberries before and we nearly got caught scrumping by the gardener, he said if he did catch any of us he take us up before the beak and get us sent to Australia, I couldn’t think what bird would have a beak strong enough to take us to Australia.

My best friends are John and William; they look after me and keep me out of trouble. We are all farm boys and when it comes to animals I am as good as any of them and I can trap a fox, rabbit, hare or a magpie as well as any man. John lives in Lower Stonnall and comes to school from Swan Farm over the hill to Church Road. I wait for him every morning in the copse by the pool at the back of Thornes Hall Farm. At the top of the hill I can see all the way to Lichfield and Burton, I sometimes go to Lichfield on market day but I have never been to Burton. They say Burton is an evil place where they make a lot of beer but I don’t believe that because they make beer in Lichfield and that’s where God lives in the big Church. I went there once to be confirmed and a man all dressed in gold stuck my head in a bath of cold water. If that was God I don’t like him very much.

I like going to Lichfield for the market; we travel in the hay cart pulled by Dolly our old horse. All the farmers bring in their cows, sheep and pigs to sell and a man stands with a hammer and shouts out a lot of rubbish, bangs the hammer and the cow is sold. They all then go off to buy from the market stalls in the square, where they have everything you could want, farm tools, food, chickens. Sometimes there are singers and dancers all dressed in white with bells and hitting each other with sticks. Market day is fun but then they all go off to the pub and we lads sit outside with the girls waiting for them while they have a drink. We get jugs of ginger beer sent out to us but it takes older people much longer to drink their beer so we all have to wait a long time. Then we all climb onto the hay wagon and start the journey home, the older people all start to sing, it’s a real noise not like Church. They let me sit on the horse to guide it back to Stonnall, then they all fall asleep and it’s just me and Dolly. When Dolly has been at the apples the men laugh at her because she farts, as she gets into a trot her rear legs get into a rhythm and she farts with every step and her tail swishes to spread it around. I never laugh at Dolly because it may hurt her feelings I know how upset I am when I fart in class sometimes and everyone holds there nose and shout to open the windows. Sometimes I fall asleep and it’s a good job she knows her way home.

Waiting on the hill if you sit very quietly you can see all the animals, every field bird, sometimes butterflies and in spring you can hear the lark so high in the sky that you must close your eyes half shut to see it. I can see John as he makes his long walk up the track along the hedge that runs all the way from Laurels Farm to Thornes Hall Farm. My Dad has worked every winter to layer the hedges around Stonnall; one day I will have hands like my Dad that can bend the thorn branches without them hurting. When John gets to the top we race down the slope to the farm yard, we wave at young Cliff who doesn’t go to school ’cos he’s deaf and dumb and a Catholic, then down the lane to meet William and off to school. Every morning the Stonnall siren sounds off to wake up the miners and tell them its time to go to work and then a bit later we hear the Aldridge siren to wake up the Aldridge miners and off they go to work underground. I can’t imagine what it must be like not being able to look up and see the sky. I don’t know why anyone would need a siren to wake them up when we farm boys have been out doing our jobs for ages when it goes off.

We don’t have much to do with the lads from the mines and they don’t like us, sometimes we have fights and end up in trouble at school and then getting the cane. We don’t mind that ’cos our hands are tough from our farm work and we don’t feel much. When there is a lot of farm work we don’t go to school and this gets our teacher very cross but most of us can’t wait to finish school and work all the time in the open air. My Dad gave me a dog that was the runt of the litter and I cared for it till it grew to be as strong as all the other farm dogs. Bramble followed me everywhere and would sit outside school till I came out to go home. No one would ever dare touch me if Bramble was there and he became the best dog to guard the chickens from any fox that was hunting for dinner.

I remember my last day at school and thinking no more sums, reading or writing but I will miss history and the stories that our teacher read about the great days of our past. I know all about seasons, when to plant, when to harvest and how to tend the crops. I could care for any animal, cows, sheep, pigs, and chickens and together with Bramble we were the happiest people alive. My mom said after she had me there could never be another that would match me so they didn’t have any more children. I wish that they had had more brothers and sisters for me as I was sometimes lonely but at least I had Bramble as my companion and that was better than William’s sister.

We all grew up together and met in the Mission Hall for dances although I couldn’t remember the steps and I had one leg a bit shorter than the other. I enjoyed watching them swing each other around and make arches that they all danced under. The girls and the boys started to look at each other a bit funny like some of the animals do at mating time but I don’t think people do that. We were all growing up and becoming men and the news came that we were going to war with Germany.

A Duke had been killed and we needed to go and sort it out, the boys were all talking about going to give the country a hand, they said that we could go after harvest, see France and be back for Christmas.

I thought this was a great idea. I knew all about the wars in France and how we had won so many battles, I was ready to go and fight for my country today. The lads said there was a place in Lichfield where we could enlist so we packed our sandwiches and cold tea, said goodbye to all our families and we would see them at Christmas. There were lots of people crying but we said that we would not be away that long. Bramble had to be locked in the shed ’cos he couldn’t go and join the army or go to France. There were seven of us all lined up and ready to march to Lichfield. We cut lengths of wood that we pretended were our guns and with these on our shoulders we set off trying to keep in step. I led the way and the others followed in twos behind. Marching in step was hard for me with one leg a bit shorter than the other, but my dad had put some extra leather on my one boot but it made me drag my foot a bit so no one could keep in time with me. Whenever we met people on the road they would cheer and wish us well. As we came into the Town more lads were on the road heading to the office to join up, people were lining the streets and cheering like we were the Mayor of Lichfield.

When we got to Bird Street we had to give our names and where we came from and who your Mom and Dad were. I got confused and couldn’t remember their names; they are just Mom and Dad to me. Then I had to sign a form, I can’t write properly so I just put a cross. The man got cross and said am I some sort of idiot, that really upset me and I got even more confused. After that we were sent into a room to see the Doctor. We had to take all our clothes off and get checked over. The lads were being sent into another room; the doctor turned to me and said I was rejected. I didn’t understand what he meant and turned to a man in a uniform to explain, he just said your country doesn’t need you so bugger off home. By now all the lads had gone outside and were being lined up to march to Whittington Barracks. I tried to get to them to say what had happened and that I would see them at Christmas and then all went quiet as the lads marched away.

I sat and ate my sandwiches, drank my cold tea and then started the slow walk back to Stonnall. By the time I got home it was getting dark and I could hear Bramble still barking. I let myself into the shed and he almost licked me to death, for the first time in my life I can remember that I started to cry. I cried so loud that soon Mom and Dad came out to see what all the fuss was about, it all hurt so much that it took ages before I could explain and some of the hurt only Bramble knows about.

Christmas came and went but no sign of the Stonnall Brigade. The Village talked of great battles at lots of strange places with names no one could pronounce and lots of mothers crying but no one ever told me why. Each day I would go to the top of the hill to look for the lads coming home but all I saw were foxes and rabbits. The fields were very quiet with none of the lads out working. Walking along the lanes all you met were old people or children even the girls had gone off to work in factories. In the Church they put a plaque up to remind us who had gone to France so we would remember them when they came home.

That made me more determined to be the first to meet them when they got back. France must be a long way away for it to take so long and surely a war can’t go on for all this time.

Bramble died of old age and I buried him in the garden. I then went on to Bramble two, three, four and five they all came with me every day to look out for the lads, but still no sign, I sometimes wonder if they prefer it in France and are over there with all that wine and pretty girls. The old folk have long since died and a new generation have moved into our village. The old buildings I remember have gone and new houses have grown up covering the stream and the lake where we used to skate in winter. The old tin-roofed Mission Hut has now been replaced with a new smart room, the old school has closed and another big school has been built. I am now too old to work but I can still sit on the wall of the Pound and tell the children about life in Stonnall and the friends I am waiting for.

Like me Bramble five is getting to be an old man but we still manage to go up the hill every day. They say I will be 90 soon, but I don’t know, numbers were always hard for me so I never counted. We get to the top and stand where the copse used to be before the farmer ploughed it up, I can feel some pains in my chest, maybe coming up here is not going to be so easy. Also my eyes are failing but I can still see all the way down the footpath where the hedge used to be. In the far distance I can see a line of people, they are making their way up the hill, yes I can now see them clearly, sixteen of them all marching in formation, the boys are coming home. I shout and wave and they all wave back. So many years and at last we are all going to be together again.

When the Handsworth Wood Ramblers Society got to the top of the hill there was an old man slumped, still with an arm outstretched as if welcoming old friends home and sitting beside him was an old grey sheepdog guarding his now dead Master.

The boys of the Stonnall Brigade were back together again.

CHILDREN

Don’t we love them!

2

Nine Months Old

What fun if we could hear what a nine month old was thinking!

W aah, waaaaah wa wa waaaaaaaaaaah Don’t worry Rosalind, I’ll look after the lovely little chap, he likes to be looked after by his Aunty Rita. No I don’t, I want my Mum. Waaaaaaaaaaah Waaah Waah Now here you are diddum’s. Aunty Rita’s here to look after you. Don’t want Aunty Rita, I want my mum. Waaah, Waah. Now what’s the matter with little Jimmy. I’ve been sitting in a warm pancake for the last hour and you didn’t care. Oh no, here she comes with her long painted nails, cold hands and the smell of cigarettes on her breath, maybe a bit more Waah waaaaah waaah and Mum will come- no luck. She picks me up and smells my bottom. Oh yes we have got one here she says with great joy. I could have told her that an hour ago, I’ve had to put up with it in my nappy. She picks with her long nails at the sticky tabs on the side of my Pampers. Goodness me what a mess and what a smelly little poo bear you are. Not as bad as your breath Her cold hands are as cold as the cream she is wiping all over me. Now who’s a nice clean boy?

She picks me up by my legs and places my naked body onto a nice new clean nappy, then leans forward and blows a raspberry onto my bare tummy, I encourage her with a giggle and again she comes breathing her smelly breath all over me. I line up the range and just at the right point I let go with a fountain that hits her right between the eyes. That will teach her and I let out a really big chuckle.

Then Mum comes and takes over with a new nappy so all is OK now. She is warm and soft and cuddles me like no one else matters, her big smile makes everything right, Teatime, she says, so now I am in my high chair with a big tray in front of me, a spoon and a bib with a little tray to catch the bits. I like the sloppy things in dishes that splash when you hit them with your spoon and my mug that makes a loud bang when I hit it down on my tray.

Hello Daddy. Dad gets home for bath time and my special time with him. Auntie Rita says goodbye and gives me a kiss, she gets banana all over her face. I don’t think she likes little boys. Daddy is big and I feel like a feather being whisked in the air. He smells of work and the car. He has great big soft hands that are almost as big as me. When I grow up I want to be like my Daddy. You be careful you don’t make him sick when you throw him around like that. Wheeee off we go again. Daddy throws me in the air and