Battles Lost and Won Read Online Free Page A

see you later.’
    Ruth watched her friend walk into his house, and sadness for him made her shoulders droop. He had taken on the responsibility of the man of the house all through the war, doing any dirty job he could find just to earn some money, and never once had she heard him complain. To have it end this way must be devastating for him.
    Bob waited for the old man to come home from the pub, and pushed a strong cup of tea towards him as he slumped at the scullery table.
    ‘Drink that,’ he ordered, standing over him with the teapot in his hand. As soon as the cup was empty he refilled it, again and again.
    When the pot was empty, Bob put it down and towered over his father, hands on hips. ‘The funeral is in six days’ time, and this is what we’re going to do. I don’t care how much you drink for the next five days, but on the day of the funeral you are going to remain sober. I will not have you disgrace Mum by falling down drunk as we lay her to rest. Do you understand?’
    Alfred Hunter gazed up at his son with tortured eyes. ‘I won’t disgrace her or you.’
    ‘Good. Now, I know it won’t be easy for you because you’ve been permanently drunk since you arrived home, but I’ll help you through the next week. After that you are on your own.’
    ‘I have tried, really I have . . . I’m sorry, son.’
    ‘It’s too late for apologies.’ Bob took some coins out of his pocket and put them on the table. ‘That should get you through the week, but it’s the last I’ll be giving you.’ Then he left the scullery and made his way upstairs to try and get some sleep. He had done all he could for the moment.
    The morning of the funeral dawned bright and warm, and Bob was grateful for the sunshine. If it had been a gloomy day it would have made everything even more upsetting.
    Steve walked into the scullery. ‘Where is he, Bob?’
    ‘Still in bed, and I was about to drag him out. I don’t think he had quite as much to drink last night as he usually does, but I doubt he will be completely sober this morning.’
    Steve nodded, his expression grim. ‘Come on, lad, I’ll give you a hand. We’ll manage him between us.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    Alfred Hunter was up, washed and dressed without a murmur. With Bob on one side of him and Steve on the other they arrived at the church without mishap.
    During the service and at the graveside, Alf pushed aside their restraining hands and stood unaided, tears rolling silently down his cheeks. Bob didn’t dare look at him or his anger would rise again, and this was no place for such emotions. He needed to remember his mum with love in his heart. She had been so brave.
    Daisy and Ruth had prepared sandwiches, cakes and tea for the neighbours and friends who had attended. Both parents had been only children, so there weren’t any close relatives, but it had been a good turnout. Helen had been well liked and quite a few had come to pay their respects.
    It had been a simple funeral, but a dignified one, and Bob was immensely grateful to the Coopers. Finally the last person left, and Bob sat at the table, giving a huge sigh of relief. Everything had gone well and the old man had made an effort, talking to people and remaining on his feet.
    Steve Cooper gathered his family together. ‘Time to go. Bob will want to be on his own now.’
    Bob gave him a grateful look. ‘Where is he?’
    ‘Asleep in the armchair,’ Daisy told him. ‘I should leave him there, Bob, he’s exhausted. And so are you. Try and get some rest.’
    He nodded wearily. ‘I’ll try. Thank you for all your help. You’ve been wonderful.’
    Steve gripped his shoulder for a moment, and then herded his family out of the door.
    When he was finally alone, Bob rested his head in his hands and cried for the first time that day. After a while he dried his eyes and put the kettle on to make a strong cup of tea, feeling better now he’d let his sorrow come out. He’d been bottling it up ever since his mum had