Page 113 of Summer in Greece

‘No, if you don’t mind me telling you, sir, it is not all right at all.’ Without waiting for any further discourse, she went on to explain. ‘They, those local braggarts and fools, decided I was partly to blame for the loss of life on the Britannic because I work for you. They’ve harassed us all weekend. Jacob Boniface is amongst the worst. I couldn’t step outside my own house today until they had cleared off.’

‘But what did they do?’ I asked.

‘They threw rotten tomatoes at the window, and when I went outside to tell them to clear off or I’d call the peelers, well, that was when the real trouble began. They had put human excrement into a paper bag and set it alight on my doorstep. Well, I didn’t know what was in it, did I? And what do you do when you find a small fire at your front door, well, you stamp on it to put it out, don’t you? It’s natural instinct, isn’t it?’ She appeared so glum, and then her chin shivered and I realised she was struggling to stay in control. ‘I’ve never felt so humiliated in my life, me with kack all over my slippers and them laughing!’ Mrs Cooper had hardly finished speaking when a crash came from the front of the house. Another of the small panes of glass shattered.

*

I returned home from shopping on Friday to find the constable waiting at my door.

‘What is it? What’s happened?’ I asked, hurrying towards him.

‘Your father, miss. A flying rock from a troublemaker struck Dr Smith while he was visiting patients. He swerved and drove his automobile into a tree. Don’t be alarmed. He lost consciousness, but regained it on the way to hospital. His vehicle has suffered a little from the altercation, but that can be mended. He’s recovering with nothing more than scrapes and bruises,’ the constable told me. ‘It could have been worse, so let’s be grateful it wasn’t.’

This was my fault! I returned to town in the cab and hurried into the hospital.

My father lay in a bleach-scented ward under clean, but thinning, sheets. After greeting him, I studied the head bandage and found the dressing nurse was competent. Quiet rage built up inside me. This was too much! Once Father was settled for the evening, I went to the police station.

‘That thug Boniface could have killed him,’ I said to Inspector Glassman. ‘Surely there’s something you can do to stop him?’

He ran his hand over his bald head, then down over his steel-grey moustache and beard. ‘Feelings are running high, miss. People are demanding a public inquiry. They’re not satisfied with the military one. They want someone to pay for their losses, and it seems they’ve decided that someone should be you.’

‘Can’t you speak to him, protect us?’

‘In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a war going on. Our best constables are away fighting the Kaiser. What am I supposed to do with half a dozen girls in police uniform?’ He raised his palms towards the ceiling.

‘We’ve had three broken windows, Inspector. My own mother was injured by flying glass. Then Mrs Cooper was victimised in a horrible way, and now my father almost killed. These people have nothing to do with His Majesty’s Hospital Ship! Boniface and his thugs are simply terrorising us because they are angry and feel useless. It’s bullying, and if you can’t put a stop to it, then I will try to end it by myself. It simply can’t go on, Inspector. Will you come with me while I go and talk to Jacob Boniface?’

Where had I found the courage to speak to a policeman in this way? Thank you, Sissy, my darling sister.

He frowned and twisted the ends of his waxed moustache. ‘I really don’t think that would be a good idea, miss. The man’s unstable.’

‘Well, I can be unstable too. I am going to talk to him whether you come with me or not.’

Glassman closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. I noticed his clenched fists.

‘Please, Inspector Glassman, isn’t it better to talk than fight?’ I stated vigorously.

He pulled in his chin and blinked at me. ‘My thoughts exactly, but people are always eager to rush into an affray and fight. The sooner you lot get the vote the better.’ He huffed and his shoulders dropped. ‘Come on then, let’s go and see the troublemaker.’ He picked up a ring of keys from his desk and locked the police station once we were in the street.

Boniface was halfway between his delivery cart and the bakery when I saw him.

‘Mr Boniface, can I have a word with you?’

He stopped, glared at me for a second, then hefted another sack of flour onto his back. ‘You’ve got a nerve! Why are you here? Come to see what further heartbreak and damage you can cause?’

‘Mr Boniface, you must understand, it was the Germans that sank HMHS Britannic! Now this has gone on long enough. My father could have been killed today!’

‘Eye for an eye then, ain’t it! You killed my youngest son. You don’t know what it’s like to lose yer boy. Fifteen ’e was. An’ what about Fairclough’s lad, ’is arm chopped off? What sort of a carpenter will ’e make now? Yer’ve got no idea what it’s like, you in yer posh, White ’Ouse!’

‘What! I’ve got no idea? My brother died fighting for the likes of you! My dearest brother!’ Burning rage hissed through my body. I erupted like a volcano, my words venting inner fury. ‘My most darling sister died far from home, nursing the boys that fought for us. How dare you! Yes, how dare you talk about sacrifice as if you are the only one who’s suffered!’

Engulfed by wrath, I grabbed the scrubbed baker’s paddle left to dry against the wall of the shop, and with all the anger in me, I swung it at Boniface. He stood there sneering, grasping the corners of a bulging flour sack on his back. Little did he know, I’d accumulated considerable strength, mostly in my arms, due to my work in Mudros. The wooden paddle twisted in my hands and the side of the spade chopped his arm and, I suspect, cracked his elbow.

He let out such a holler, dropped the flour, and we all disappeared in a dense white cloud. The Inspector made a grab for me and caught my shoulder. It took all my self-control to resist swinging a punch at the policeman’s chin.

Boniface hollered. ‘She’s busted me elbow, little trollop, I want her arrested! Arrest her!’

‘Oh, so sorry, Mr Boniface,’ I screamed back sarcastically, pushing my face towards his. ‘Perhaps we should call a doctor for you. But wait, of course we can’t. Because you’ve put the only doctor in Dover in the hospital, you stupid, horrible, bad-tempered ogre!’