“So he has! How clever of you to see that, dear. What have you been doing, Richard, to be given a medal? Are you sure you should be taking such risks? I am told it can be quite dangerous, in wartime as well!”
“I am sure Richard did all that was necessary, Mother. Perhaps you should come and sit down now. We can discuss Richard’s doings over dinner.”
“Oh, yes. Tell cook to put up another plate, dear. Alexandra can do that, won’t you, dear.”
Richard’s younger sister trotted off to the kitchen, obediently.
Mrs Baker retired to her sitting room, leaving her elder daughter to deal with the bothersome details of her son’s return.
“Have you no baggage, Richard?”
“Lost everything in France, Vicky. The baggage train became separated from the battalion and was probably captured. I have what I stand in. I must report to depot in Bedford on Monday. There will be uniforms waiting for me I can wear civilian clothes till then.”
“Your wardrobe is untouched in your room. You look thinner but will be able to wear your old clothes.”
“Haven’t eaten much these last weeks in the retreat.”
“You have grown older, Richard. In the face, that is. Not a bad thing, I suspect.”
“Thank you, sister. When is Father due home?”
“For six o’clock, as always. We will eat for half past six, as normal. Mother will have a pot of tea in a few minutes.”
“I will join her – travelling since this morning and having to attend the tailors in London, haven’t had time to eat. No choice, but I shall have to beg Father to foot the tailor’s bill.”
“I expect he will pay up, Richard, the circumstances being out of the ordinary.”
“I hope so. What of you, sister? A young man in tow, perhaps?”
“No. Most of the young men have followed your example and have gone to war. Well, in fact, almost all are in some sort of training before they can go, but they are not here in Kettering. Alexandra has a follower, but Father hardly approves of him – he is a farming man, owns a thousand acres, in fact, quite large, but he is thirty years of age and not the sharpest of men. Father says that farms do not make money.”
“I don’t know – I have never been awake on the money-making side.”
“Nor me – but as a young lady, father says I should not be.”
Richard was waiting in the hall when his father entered. He had changed into his old civilian clothes.
“Back home - and looking more like a man. Was that you in the Telegraph this morning? Captain Baker, VC? I wondered… Didn’t think it was likely. Glad to be wrong, for once.”
“Yes, sir. Buckingham Palace on Tuesday, sir. Back to the depot on Monday and I shall take my company out to France on Friday. New men, of course.”
“So the paper said. Fewer than twenty men left out of eighty and you the sole officer surviving.”
“That’s right. Lucky to make it back, sir. I had a good sergeant and two of the local men came up trumps. Abbott and Ekins, both corporals and from boot and shoe factories locally.”
“Tell them there will be work with me if they survive the war, paying better.”
“Thank you. I would like that, Father. They are fine men.”
“What about you? Wearing your old clothes, I see.”
“No choice. I have one borrowed uniform. Had to go to Gieves in London to order up a full set to replace everything. Lost the lot when the baggage train disappeared. Wore the same clothes for weeks, and that included days fighting over slagheaps in the iron making area north of Ypres.”
“Filthy stuff, slag.”
“I noticed that, Father.”
“We’ll put you in your borrowed uniform for photographs. Local paper will want them. Good for the firm. Captain Baker, VC! Far more than ever I hoped for from you. Well done. I’ll put a thousand a year into your bank account, for life, boy. You’re worth more than that to me, now. Bound to be promoted, too. Stay as a soldier when the war ends, will you?”
“I have a permanent commission, sir, in the Bedfords.”
“Good. You’ll be useful, and that I never expected. I’ll look after you in the Will, as well, never fear! Can the family come to the Palace on Tuesday? Never been near there. Never thought to.”
“I don’t know. I expect so. I can ask at the depot on Monday. Or, better, I’ll go down to the Drill Hall tomorrow – they will know.”
“Go in uniform. Be seen in town. Good idea! You’ll need some cash, I don’t doubt.”
His father was in a state of amaze, it seemed, and much inclined to dip his hand into his pocket.
“Never been a military man in our family, Richard. You are the first. Best you should take a wife, I think. Daughter of one of the biggest men in the locality, that might be best. I can set you up in a proper size house with gardens and such.”
“No, sir. Thank you for the offer, but I shall be a major if the war lasts two more years. If it goes for more than that, there’s a possibility I’ll make lieutenant-colonel. Once I have a battalion and with the VC, there’s a strong chance I can get higher. Wullie Robertson is a general, and he started as a private soldier, so it can be done – but only if a man fits in. That means a proper wife – toffee nosed and daddy Sir Somebody Something. A manufacturer’s daughter would not be good enough for what I need. If I become a general, it will do you a lot of good, I think.”
“So it will – good to see you can work things out for yourself. I don’t know any nobs, nor any way of getting in with them.”
“The officers of the battalion will look after me that way, sir. They are all of them of the right sort – it was a fashionable regiment. They will introduce me, one way or another. Bound to come back to England on leave occasionally, and we may be posted away from France after a year or two if the war lasts.”
“Well, I’ll leave that to you. Glad to know I can leave things to you now! I’ll talk to the newspaper tomorrow, get your photograph in next week’s edition.”
The meal went very pleasantly, the elder Baker not snubbing Richard once and chuckling kindly when Vicky asked whether Richard might not be able to introduce her to an officer or two.
Richard put on his uniform in mid-morning and walked the mile into town, calling into his bank and discovering that his father had already paid them a visit.
“A chequebook, sir. Correct for an officer and a gentleman.”
Richard gave them his signature, as was necessary.
“There will be a cheque to Gieves, the tailors, which will likely be quite substantial,” he told the manager. “I lost every stitch I possessed in the retreat.”
The manager had refreshed his memory from the Daily Telegraph, knew that Richard had displayed great heroism and English pluck in covering the retreat of his battalion. He was not surprised that he had not had time to pick up his wardrobe.
“There is a balance in your account sufficient to cover any number of tailor’s bills, sir. Your father has assured me of such.”
“Excellent, sir. For the while, I should take a little cash out for my own use. I lost wallet, purse and everything else in the field. I must purchase a watch and another wallet.”
The manager showed Richard how to write a cheque to cash and took him to the counter.
He walked off to the Drill Hall with ten sovereigns tucked away, entered to find Captain Hendricks still there and the building busy with young men learning their drill. He exchanged salutes as they were called to attention and stared in awe.
“Good to see you again, sir! And risen in the world. May I congratulate you, sir?”
“Thank you, Captain Hendricks. Much of my success is yours, sir – you gave me the military grounding I needed.”
“You are flattering indeed, Captain Baker. I would venture to say that the ribbon you wear so proudly was of your doing entirely.”