Sarah’s Secret

‘Gran!’
The note of alarm in my grandson’s voice caused me to rush downstairs as fast as the stair-lift could carry me. He was in the study with my antique compendium on the desk in front of him- its doors wide open.
‘Oh Sam you haven’t!’

Sam was fascinated by the little rolls of paper inside the compendium and the small brass screws one turned to adjust the day, month and year. I had bought it at a sale on my last visit to Lancashire and the date was fixed at the 1st July 1916. I felt something momentous must have happened on this date and told Sam we should not alter it out of respect for the previous owner.

‘I didn’t touch the date Gran. Honestly! I just touched this little knob and the drawer shot out.’
A secret drawer! And there was something in it. With shaking hands I gently retrieved a letter, a newspaper cutting and something wrapped in yellowed tissue which looked like a crushed bluebell. With help from Sam I read the following letter:

Dear Lord Barraclough,

I am sending you my resignation as under-gardener with an ache in my heart. Me and the lads from the village have signed up for the Accrington Pals and we are being shipped out tomorrow. Being a big lad they didn’t question my age, and the date of my 18th birthday must be our little secret. It is a comfort to know my mother will be looked after as you do with all your retainers.

I shall miss looking after Miss Sarah’s roses but I believe the poppies in Flanders are a sight to be seen. As a true patriot I know you will understand. I must do my best for King and country. We are going to put the kibosh on the Kaiser and beat the Hun. We’ll be back in Blighty- victorious by the time the bluebells are out in Ramsgill Wood.
Always your faithful servant,
Ned Owens

PS: Please say goodbye to Miss Sarah and give her my best.The newspaper cutting’s headline said:

LOCAL LAD KILLED IN BATTLE OF THE SOMME
584 men were killed, missing or wounded.

I thought back to when I bought the compendium. I was sad to see Broughton Manor for sale. The family had died out with the death of the old, unmarried daughter Sarah. There were two portraits of her in the sale which I coveted but they were way out of my price range. One as a lovely young girl, in a bluebell wood, and one as a frail old lady, looking so sad it made me want to weep.

‘Don’t get upset Gran. We can put it all back and pretend we never found it,’
I looked at my grand-son. Thank God he would not be sacrificed like Ned. That awful war and the one after it had been wars to end all wars. Hadn’t they?

I wrote this, some time ago, for Remembrance Day.