about her father when he had come back, not only injured from the mustard gas that had created chronic breathing problems for him, but also broken on an emotional level that was both a lot less measurable than his constant wheeze, and less able to be remedied with medication. Shell shock, as it was called, was their daily reminder of a war, fought and won nearly twenty years before, that had left its mark forever, still ever-present to many; whole families, not just hers, who’d had to readjust to living with an enemy that continued to assault its victims long after the ceasefire had been celebrated.
She’d closed the kitchen door and looked across at her mother. ‘Is he okay, do you think?’ she asked in a whisper.
‘Yes, love.’ Jessie nodded, drying a teacup in her hand, a gentle smile drifting across her face. ‘He will be. Of course, it’s hard for him with so many of our friends and family already off to war, and now you’re going to join up. But don’t worry, his garden will keep him busy.’
Diana hadn’t been convinced, and walking into the sitting room, she had observed her dad in a familiar routine, taking out his pipe, tamping tobacco down into it, lighting a match, and inhaling deeply as he continued to stare mindlessly out at the garden.
‘Are you all right, Dad?’ she asked in a forced, chirpy manner as swirls of blue smoke scented the air with its earthy aroma. When he didn’t answer her, she nervously started rearranging the cushions on the sofa, pretending that was the main reason for her being in the room as he made his way back to his favourite chair. ‘I don’t want you to worry.’
Horace nodded slowly, staring at the floor as if he was considering the zigzag pattern of their brown and cream carpet for answers. Sitting down next to him in the saggy brown armchair with the lacy cotton armrests her mother had embroidered herself, Diana reached forward and laid her hand gently upon his, noting once again with sadness how he still had the tremor he’d been left with. Diana could see he was fighting with emotion.
Finally pulling his pipe from his mouth, he looked up at her with reticent eyes. ‘Are you sure you want to do this, Diana? There are plenty of things you could do right here in Birmingham for the war. Why don’t you settle down and marry a nice local boy here? You could still do something for Britain. But you could also be close to your family.’
Diana swallowed down the guilt that was now gripping her throat, acknowledging his pain at her leaving. Bringing her hands back together, she began to wring them in her lap. ‘I just feel I want to do something more, Dad. Something meaningful. I know I could roll bandages or knit socks here, and there is nothing wrong with that. But with so many of our boys overseas and so many of my friends already signed up…’ Her voice drifted away, allowing the silence to fill the end of her thought, and he nodded his head in resignation.
Eyeing her shiny new suitcase in the hall with obvious sadness, he sat back in his chair and took another long draw of his pipe, and Diana’s heart went out to him. She had immense love and fondness for her kind-hearted dad, his fragility creating an opportunity for him and Diana to connect on a much deeper level. While other fathers were away all day working, her father had often been at home, helping take care of her throughout her childhood. With his health issues, he had not been able to hold down a job since he’d returned from the war. And though he’d managed to do part-time work here and there, it had been her mother, Jessie, who had become the family breadwinner.
As soon as she was old enough, Diana had supplemented their family’s income, working in Birmingham’s city centre as a hairdresser. But now bigger things were calling to her and she couldn’t help feeling pulled to do something on a much grander scale for the good of her country.
Propelled by the heavy silence, she stood up and strode to the window, folding her arms across her chest. ‘Your victory garden’s looking good, Dad.’
He pointed his pipe towards the garden. ‘The lettuces will be ready soon, and you’ll miss the cabbages.’
She turned and smiled, and his warm eyes studied her. Diana thought how strange