J.B. In Charge Chapter 9

The police visit our farm

After a few hours spent shivering in bed, I had to get up to milk the cows.

A mud and blood soiled mess was I when I returned from the cowbails for breakfast. Brian never even noticed my injuries.

Mum, without fuss for questions, bandaged me up. Returning from the bails like that was as common and unalarming as bee stings in Summer. I snatched my lunch and was off to school.

At morning assembly, Mr Macgregor announced Germany had surrendered. We had won the war in Europe.

I was surprised. I had never remembered a time when we were not at war. I had assumed war was the natural thing as cows giving milk and millions of people would fight and kill one another for ever.

As tomorrow will be the last day before the May holidays, you may take tomorrow off school to celebrate the end of the war, said Mr Macgregor.

We kids were not delighted. We all knew what a public holiday meant down on the farm – more mud and sweat for Mum and Dad.
As we left school that day in Jack's car, we kids chatted and joked about kids' matter. I don't know about the others, but for the first time I thought about what the end of the war meant.

It was not really the end of the war. There were still the atom bombs on Japan and all the wars after that. But Mr Macgregor had said it was the end of the war. Until a higher authority – our parents, or even higher, the Movietone news at the movies – told us differently, that was that.

It was hard for me to work it out. I had known no other world. Maybe we kids would not have to run and hide any more in the fern around the school, screaming our heads off and pretending there were Japanese planes. That was a game the teachers made up for us. When we had to do it, the fun soon went out as with all fun things. I gave up. All I was sure was there would be more cows and more men in suits to trample over us Browns.

I was walking though the farm, the weight of it already settling upon my thin shoulders, when my war truly ended. I saw Dad working with a shovel in the vegetable garden. He was a little unsteady and he seemed to be constantly falling over to his left side. My heart jumped to my mouth and I ran and put my arms around his neck.

So you see I am well again, said Dad.
The doctor said I will have to take it easy for a few more weeks.
Now you can return to being my little boy again.

That sounds sappy. I was so happy I didn't care. I put my hand into his and together we went into the house.

As we went in, Dad said,

Old Bootles never turned up to powwow about selling up the farm.
Did you deliver that letter to him?

I looked down on the ground. Dad said,

I should scold you, but I am glad you didn't.
When the bailiffs come, we will leave with dignity.

I looked down on the ground again.
I was so happy now, I even hoped I had stopped them ever coming.

When Brian and I came out of the cowbails on Saturday evening, there was a strange car parked outside the front door. I did not like the look of it, it looked so grand that it could only be from the Government or the bank.
When we got closer, we saw it was a police car!

My heart sank to my gumboots. I had no doubt what business they had come about. A rat would have scurried away. I had no choice but to walk into the kitchen. Aunty Fan was, as usual, spinning.

We heard voices inside Mum and Dad's bedroom. Brian went immediately to their room. I sat down on the floor and picked up a Champion magazine and pretended to read it. The Champion was a kids' story magazine. Mum and Brian walked into the kitchen with two huge smiling policemen.

As you can see, said Mum.
My husband is a sick man. He could not have done the Bootles burglary.

I dared not look at the policemen. My ears burned. A gruff voice said,

We police are satisfied about that too, Mrs Brown. As the missing court order referred to your farm, Mr Bootles accused your husband. But as a valuable radio also went missing, we suspect the burglar was from outside the district.

As I stared at my Champion, I realized the talking policeman was looking directly at me. I played my old trick of pretending to be invisible. It worked with grownups as easily as ever.

With many a friendly word, the policemen went out the door and soon the car noise was also gone. I kept my nose in my Champion.

Saturday night was always a highlight of the week. Every other night we had to be satisfied with plain lean dinners. On Saturday night we feasted royally on roast. For the first time on a Saturday night I was not gluttonous, even with my plate piled high with roast beef slices, cauliflower and sauce, soft juicy cabbage and creamy potatoes.