Maurice Northmore
It Started With A War
WHEN DARKNESS FALLS
By
Maurice Northmore
IT STARTED WITH A WAR
Moorland, a small town nestled amongst the rugged isolated barren moors of the Yorkshire Dales, has a history dating back as far as the 7th century. Its narrow roads more suitable for a horse and cart, its cramped cottages having changed little throughout the centuries. Its people are a tough lot having battled through wars and the harsh weather that is a regular visitor to these parts.
From one of the cottages, Tom Madison, propped against a window, was watching the removals van ease slowly away. Its heavy load pressed down hard on the chassis springs, smoke bellowed from its exhaust. Soon it had reached a row of stone clad cottages, where dirty grey smoke drifted aimlessly out of chimneys and clung perilously to grey slate rooftops. It’s dark outside and difficult to see the removals van disappear down the main street.
Unrest has been simmering in Europe since Germany claimed a stretch of land from Czechoslovakia and just this week, invaded Poland. The government were quick to respond and have urged all gas streetlights should not be lit and people should switch off their lights and keep their curtains closed. The situation in Europe must be worrying the government because they are introducing all sorts of measures to combat the bombing and gas raids they are expecting to befall Britain, including an urgent need to identify suitable refuge shelters, such as railway arches, cellars, subways, underground tunnels, basements, and any existing air raid shelters. Everyone is being issued with gas masks. There is no telling what will happen to cats and dogs. Talk is amongst the townsfolk of Moorland; the government might order them to be put down. Conscription has been implemented for men aged 20 to 21 and they must undertake 6 months military training. Children are being evacuated from London and other major cities. All this comes at a time when Britain is ill prepared to fight another war, and the feeling on the streets is one of uncertainty.
Madison’s wife Ruth is still complaining with as much venom as she had done the day Madison first broke the news to her. ’I don’t know why we have to uproot and move to London, especially at such an uncertain time like this. What with all the trouble in Europe, there’s sure to be more trouble ahead. Not to mention, I’ve spent my whole life in Moorland. All my friends live in Moorland. I socialise with them at the Women’s Institute, the local book club and gardening club. I love the country life. Why would I want to give all that away and move to a busy city? Especially a city as big as London. I doubt they have any gardens down there.’
Madison frowned and slowly inhaled a lung-full of cigarette smoke and exhaled his customary circle towards the ceiling.
’And why do you have to smoke? You know the doctor told you it’s bad for your health.’
Madison turned and looked at her, and saw that face and that stance. A picture he had seen many times before. Mouth screwed up. Brow creased. Arms folded. Legs apart. Hands on hips. ‘You will make new friends Ruth. You always do. There will be plenty for you to do in London. And a job in CID is too good to refuse. And the shops are better.’
Ruth’s stance had not changed. But she was quiet and appeared to be thinking about what he had said, especially the shops. She couldn’t argue Moorland was not blessed with good shops.
When Madison had said, "a job in CID was too good to refuse," all he could see was, if he stayed in Moorland, his life would be speeding swiftly towards a mid life crises. ’Look Ruth. My career here is never going to improve. I’ve got as far as I can. Nothing ever happens in Moorland, and I mean nothing. Except petty crime and pilfering. CID will open up a totally new avenue for me. I will be a Detective with good career opportunities, not a Sergeant taking notes. Anyway, you know it’s sorted. I’ve already said I will take the job, and we have a nice house waiting for us in London. We can’t live here, anymore.’
Ruth looked around at the empty cold space that was once her home filled with all sorts of personal things, now stripped of everything she had looked at and cleaned, for how many years was it, she thought? She relaxed her stance. Her look of dismay signaled she was beaten. She held out a sandwich for him. ‘We should be tucking into a meal of chicken, potatoes, vegetables and gravy. Not corned beef sandwiches.’ She looked at him and scowled. ‘Are you going to stand there all night, dreaming your life away? Or are you going to eat?’
Madison stubbed his cigarette out on the fire grate and reluctantly made his way towards her.
The sandwich hardly filled the space inside his stomach. He was thinking, maybe I’ll treat myself to fish and chips later.
’Are you coming to say goodbye to Fred and Joan?’ Ruth waited for him to answer, but he said nothing and put his coat on instead.
Fred and Joan would have liked them to stay there all night, but they had to get back to the cottage, where Madison knew the taxi would be waiting to take them to the hotel near Moorland’s railway station.
Outside, Ruth made her way towards the taxi and climbed into its rear seat.
Madison walked towards the house and made sure the front door was locked and secure, before pacing to the taxi and stepping into it alongside Ruth.
The taxi set off through the deserted streets of Moorland.
Madison peered at the deserted streets; memories came flooding back to him, some good, and some not so good.
They arrived at the hotel and checked into their room for the night. It was basic. It had a kettle though, and he soon had it boiling.
’Cuppa love.’
Just about everyone in Yorkshire was addressed as "Love."
Ruth took the cup of tea from him.
’I could bring us some fish and chips later, if you wish.’
Ruth never answered.
She could be stubborn when she wanted to be. Somehow between now and her finishing her cuppa, she had to make him feel that when she said, "yes to fish and chips," she was not giving in. Another Yorkshire trait. “Don’t show your feelings.”
The next morning at 8am, they caught the slow train from Moorland station to Leeds Central, and by mid day, they were sat on the express commuter train speeding towards London.
The moment Madison stepped onto the platform at London’s King Cross Station and saw the mass of people rushing frantically towards the exit, he was oblivious of the perilous event which would very soon change everyone’s life forever.