“Now may God bless you all. May He defend the right. It is the evil things that we
Shall be fighting against - brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and
Persecution - and against them I am certain that the right will prevail."
Her mum stood up and flicked the switch on the side of the wireless, smoothing down her apron as she stood, staring at the shocked faces in front of her. She hadn’t really understood what most of what had been said, but then again she hadn’t had to. It was adamant from his very first sentence that another bitter war had been enacted. She stole a few glances to her right, were her stiff upper lipped father had been sitting with a very straight back in silence. She thought she’d seen a tear roll down the side of his cheek and fall limply into his lap but she couldn’t be sure. He didn’t look like he was crying. He didn’t look like he was feeling anything. She stared left, her grand dad was openly weeping into his hanker chief. Mum looked like she was going to cry to.
“So that’s it then,” He started to say “The beginning of the en-“
“No,” Her dad cut in “It’s about time we did something about this abomination, it’s about time we fought for what’s right. And besides, the war did some good last time. Showed the good old queen-y just what us lower classes can do, and it’ll do the same again”
Elizabeth just felt sick. And numb. And sick some more. War was such a tiny word. Three letters, one syllable. Short and snappy. It didn’t do the actual act of war any justice. She remembered her granddad’s stories. Death, agonisingly slow and painful. Rationing. Gas. War was long and tiring and painful for everyone. And there was so much hurting.
She could picture it just then, in her living room. Her dad battling for his life, locked in a dual with a German. Both tired and panting heavily, hidden behind boulderous pieces of lumpy pink sofa. A gash to his forehead leaving blood running down into his eyes and blurring his vision. He fires and misses. Then makes a dash for it, but he isn’t quick enough and the German fires. Hitting him in the side. She could see him fall. And what about at home, what about if they all went out there and the Germans were already here. Knocking on doors and killing the weak. Who knew what they would do. The Germans were angry, and arrogant and destructionist. They probably enjoyed killing, like the English were the Rabbits limbering limply across the playing field and right into the trap. She was scared.
When she zoned back in she realised her mother and father had left the room and her granddad was just staring at her.
“It’s going to be okay Kiddo,” He paused and opened his arms in an invite that she gratefully accepted “It has to be”
“And breaking news, following the death of Mark Duggan; Police are warning that the riots that were witnessed last night have the possibility of spreading. Possible next locations include Woolwich, Hackney and again hitting the town centre of Tottenham. Police have suggested people secure their shops as much as possible, leave calmly if asked to evacuate and above all not to panic if they find themselves caught up in a spontaneous mugging. Currently social media sites and the blackberry messaging service is being closely monitored in order to try and prevent a follow up attack, Mary Griffins has the story today live after the first Tottenham riot. Mary?”
