knit her own cardigans along with the children’s clothes she knitted for the church.
At seven o’clock we were sitting by the fire when the doorbell rang. Mum looked surprised. ‘Are you expecting anyone, Mary?’ Granny shook her head, but before either of them could get up, I was in the lobby and opening the door. I got such a shock when I saw the man standing on the landing. Dressed in a long army coat, he had a black eyepatch over his left eye. My first thought was that he was a pirate.
By now Mum had arrived beside me and she gave me a telling-off for running to the door. She then saw the man and almost slammed the door in his face.
‘Mrs Flint, I’m Andy Baxter.’
Mum gasped and peered at him, her face turning a bright red. ‘Oh Andy, I didn’t recognise you. Come in.’
He hesitated. ‘I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy.’
Mum had recovered from the surprise and said, ‘No, come in. We’re not busy.’
I was mesmerised by this man with his eyepatch and followed him into the living room, wondering who he was. Granny looked up as we entered and she was also surprised.
Mum said, ‘This is Andy, he was a member of the swimming club that Peter used to go to.’
As he sat down, Granny said, ‘I remember you, Andy. Weren’t you the youngest member of the club?’
He looked uncomfortable sitting in the chair, but he nodded. ‘Yes, I joined when I was fourteen and I loved the swimming and the competitions we used to go to.’
‘Let me take your coat, Andy.’ Mum stood beside him and took his coat into the lobby.
That was when I saw he had no left hand. He saw me looking and pulled the sleeve of his jumper down over the red-looking stub.
Mum offered him a cup of tea, but he said he didn’t want anything.
‘I just wanted to come and see you, Missus Flint. I wasn’t sure of your new address, but Mrs Whyte told me where you lived.
Granny also saw the missing hand. ‘Were you in the army, Andy?’
He nodded again. ‘Aye, I was called up when I was eighteen and I’ve been in France.’ He turned and looked at Mum. ‘That’s why I’m here. In 1917 I was in the same trench as your husband, Peter, and he saved my life.’
Mum put a hand over her mouth. ‘You were with Peter.’
‘Aye, I was. I was hit by shrapnel and I was lying in the mud when Peter ran out into no-man’s-land and picked me up. I was taken to a hospital in France before being transferred back to Blighty. I lost my eye and my hand, but I’m one of the lucky ones.’
Andy stopped talking and wiped his face with his right hand.
‘Was Peter injured as well?’ Mum’s eyes were bright with tears. ‘It’s just that he hasn’t been sent home yet and we’ve had no word from the War Office.’
‘When Peter carried me back to the trench, he heard another poor injured soldier crying out and he went back to save him.’ Andy wiped his face again with a white handkerchief and it was a moment before he resumed his story. ‘There was a bomb blast, Missus Flint, and when someone went out to look there was just a huge crater. No one could have survived that.’
Mum cried out. ‘No, no, no, it isn’t true. I know he survived and he’ll be back home again soon.’
Granny tried to change the subject. ‘Do you still live in Alexander Street, Andy?’
‘Yes, I do. My father died when I was in France and Mum has gone back to work in Halley’s jute mill.’ He sounded bitter when he mentioned his father. ‘I wish I could have said goodbye to him.’
Granny nodded. ‘You’ve been through such a traumatic time, Andy, but your mother will be happy to have you home.’
Andy said that was true. ‘I just wish I could find a job, but what job could I do? Anything manual is out of the question and I have to take one day at a time.’
Mum cried out again, ‘I know Peter is alive, he is a survivor and he survived that bomb blast.’ Her face was red as she realised she was repeating herself, while I stood in shocked