The Author

Chapter 3

Startled by this flashback, he wakes with a dry throat, and stumbles on his unsteady feet as he stands up from bed, and wraps his nightgown around him. Trundling down the stairs, he brings a glass of milk back up from his kitchen, and sits it on the bedside cabinet beside him. After drinking about a quarter, he returns to his sleep.

***

It was another April morning, but this time Harry noticed the floor was much further down from him than his last flashback, and, as he looked in the new mirror, he observed that he must be around sixteen years old, making the year 1940. Amused by the pathetic stubble forming on the tip of his chin, he stroked it, laughing at it.

As for his bedroom, there were still two beds, and his desk was the same, other than the odd screw that had fallen out. Across the hallway, there were now two occupants of his sister's room, as the war had brought torrents of evacuees from the likes of London, Liverpool, and Manchester, and currently a girl named Rose Taylor was taking up temporary residence in the Greening house. She had become surprisingly well accustomed to country life in the few months that she had lived there, especially considering she was from London, where the smell of smoke and smog replaces the smell of fresh nature, and greedy businessmen replace local, friendly producers, like Mr Richards.

Eliza was now seventeen, and had left school. She was working in the local post office as a clerk, but still lived at home. Rose was only sixteen, and it was due to her mother's friendship with Harry's that had enabled her to escape London at such an old age compared to other evacuees, and she was a great help around the house, as well as becoming a good friend of Harry's and Dan's. Dan was especially pleased when Rose and Annabel became friends, as the necessary stepping-stone (as he called it) was now in place.

Of course now that Britain was at war with Germany, food was even scarcer. Rations limited the meal quantity and quality, while even more food was being supplied to the cities. 'Dig for Victory' was incredibly popular, but Harry's back was sore enough to feel he was being mercilessly defeated.

Fortunately, Harry's father was too old to be called up to the army, but he did his bit at the farm as well as volunteering with the home guard. As for his mother, she worked on the farm too, though she primarily worked with the livestock, whereas her husband toiled in the fields.

Harry's brother, now 13, was rarely seen inside, as he cycled around the village a lot with his friends. He was also quite excited about the war. He often asked for details about Germany's agenda, and he always asked if Hitler was dead yet. He had become rather aggressive as he entered his teen years.

As for school, Harry and Dan still sat near each other, and luckily for Dan, Ann was just behind him. He was still infatuated and it was likely she knew it, judging by Dan's subtlety.

It was July, and the Battle of Britain was raging. Not only this, but Harry and Dan had but a few weeks before they left school for full-time work. It was also feasible that they could be called up to the western front. Harry though this often, and hoped to God that the war was over by the Autumn. However, since the fall of France, this seemed unlikely, and Harry knew it.

Up until now, the war had little effect on the small village that Harry lived in. Few men were eligible to be called up, and those who were were still fit and fighting. This all changed for Harry, when he went into school just a couple of days before his last.

He and Dan walked into their form room one morning, to see Miss Robinson staring at a picture, glasses left carelessly on her desk. She was crying.

"Er...Miss?" Said Harry, nervously.

She started suddenly, quickly slamming the photograph face-down on the table. After almost throwing her glasses back onto her face, she replied.

"What do you want?"

"Are you alright, Miss?"

Her lip trembled, and she tried to keep control.

"Yes, yes. Every...everything...I'm fine."

Harry pulled up a chair. He had noticed the telegraph on the desk. Miss Robinson had forgotten to remove it.

"Tell me, Miss."

"Alright." Miss Robinson answered, wiping away a tear, "If you really want to know. My son, Adrian. He...he died. Fighting in Italy."

This came as a shock to Harry, and he treated Miss Robinson much better after that. He had uncovered her heart, and was glad to have perhaps made a friend out of her.

Harry arrived home from his final day at school. His parents had saved up their rations, and they ate well that night, in celebration of Harry entering the workforce at Mr Richards' farm. It was a happy time in rural England, far away from the bombs and horror of the front line on the continent.