Interrupted Journey

Chapter 9 - Christmas

Laura's burial was traumatic.

Other deaths had been desperately sad, of course, but for most of us Laura's uncompromising teaching was the reason we were still alive.

It was a strange affair because Susan insisted that the two groups of mourners stayed at least ten yards apart. Because Laura belonged in the 'assumed infected' group, Samson, James and I had the honour of performing the burial. Samson and I both had tears streaming down our faces as we lowered Laura into the ground. James, however, seemed to be completely impassive.

I was surprised how small and light she was in death. In life, she seemed to take up more space by force of her personality.

Afterwards, the five of us returned to the barn which was going to be our home for the next two weeks. Most of us were still in tears, of course, but as we walked in, Stab collapsed to her knees making strange little gasping noises. I moved to do what I could to comfort her, though I didn't know what I could do as she reacted violently whenever anybody so much as touched her hand. I was beaten to it by James who scooped her off the ground and, sitting on a hay bale, held her on his lap as her gasps progressed into almost hysterical sobs.

I have rarely felt so proud of my son.

Since their mother's death, he had been extremely protective of his baby sister, Lizzie, and since she joined us, Emily too, had been taken under his wing.

But now, as he held her gently on his lap and allowed her to cry, he had clearly decided that poor, little, damaged Stab needed a big brother too.

And, as I watched her, I realised that she had never really had the chance to mourn the death of her family. Desperate and heartbreaking though this collapse was, perhaps it would do her some good.

Not for the first time, I wished I could talk to Susan.

For two weeks we held ourselves in a careful quarantine - stuck in the barn, in the cold December weather, with no fire. Our only major worry in this time was when Stab became ill but it turned out to be just a cold - not really surprising as we were living in an unheated barn in the middle of winter and she was, of course, still badly undernourished. There was not much we could do about that, either.

Fortunately December is a relatively quiet time on the farm. Through some shouted negotiations with Mike and Susan we decided that we wouldn't spend any time in the trenches - there was too much risk of infection - but we could take over the roving patrols. These turned into extended training sessions for Stab and she applied herself to learning everything we could teach her with a frightening intensity. She would still react with almost hysterical panic if anyone but James touched her so he took over most of her 'hands on' training - completing on the promise that Laura had made to her. As he taught her to move, and more importantly think, in a military manner, I gradually came to recognise that he was more of a soldier than I would ever be. That thought made me extremely uncomfortable - my fifteen year old son was a skilled and experienced killing machine.

I suppose it was another disadvantage of our extended isolation - I had time to think about these things.

After two weeks we were allowed out - just in time for Christmas. As I was reunited with Susan, I was shocked at how she had changed in the last two weeks. She now looked distinctly pregnant - her growing stomach highlighted by her emaciated body.

At noon on Christmas Day, I found myself back at the bridge defences and was rapidly coming to the conclusion that guard duty was an unremitting bind. For a week now there had been snow on the ground and, though various people had taken steps to improve the trenches, we were still just hanging around outside in a cold, damp hole in the ground.

When there was work to be done on the farm, having two people in the trenches seemed like something of a waste of resources. Now it was vitally important to ensure we stayed alert.

It was a couple of hours before the end of our shift when we were disturbed by some surprisingly musical singing from a couple of people coming down the track. I looked across at James, with whom I was sharing a trench, and smiled. "I hadn't expected Carrol Singers!" he said.

Mike and Samson appeared round the corner and, after checking that we had neither fallen asleep nor lost any vital bits from frostbite, Mike told us that Christmas lunch was nearly ready up at the house and that they were there to relieve the two of us so we could join our family for the meal.

I was genuinely touched. We hadn't been able to do much for Christmas but at least people were making an effort.

We had collected a tree from the woods on the other side of the valley which we had decorated - mostly with paper garlands that the children had made. Ashley had demonstrated an artistic side, of which I had not previously been aware, by creating a beautiful star from cardboard and scraps of aluminium foil.

I had found some proper artist's colouring pencils that Mary must have left last time she was here and Mike had given me some chocolate bars that he had found when he had been clearing out Jimbo's things so at least the children had something to open in the morning.

While the meal wasn't the orgy of overindulgence that we would normally expect, there was a little more to eat than normal, and some of the more exciting foods had been pulled out from the back of the larder. It was a wonderful change from our staple lamb stew. Somebody had even found a bottle of champagne that was left over from the wedding.

Best of all, though, was the fact that we were all there to enjoy it. In spite of everything the world had thrown at us, my expanding family: Susan, James, Elizabeth, Emily, Ron and now, I suppose, Stab, had all made it this far.