1940

 

1940

The third part of a trilogy by strzeka  (04/23)

Part One, 1914 (10/22) and Part Two, 1926 (01/23)

 

PROLOGUE

 

Adrian Bell and Arthur Callahan remained in London after the outbreak of war until the start of the Blitz in summer 1940. The East End of London, where their business was situated, was severely damaged by bombing. Over several weeks, they salvaged as much equipment and materials as possible and hunkered down at home in Parson’s Green.

 

            – We have another three orders, Ade.

            – I’ll send them the standard reply. Leave it to me.

The supply of prosthetic limbs from Bell & Callahan had dried up as the number of workers gradually dissipated. Ben found it increasingly difficult to commute from Golders Green and the two metalworkers had their hands full at home coping with bomb-damaged living quarters. They had applied for evacuation and urged Adrian and Arthur to do the same. George was the more keen, since his home had suffered serious damage.

            – It’s for the best, I reckon. I’d like to get up on the roof to patch it up but that’s beyond me now on these legs. The missus wants to take the kiddies to her sister’s down in Newhaven, like.

            – Probably the best idea, I should think. Send them off safely and you can follow a bit later.

            – I don’t know where we might end up.

            – Let’s apply together, then, and try to get billets close to each other.

 

Adrian composed the disappointing letters to his prospective customers and turned to the problem of evacuation. Along with women and children, the disabled had also been urged to evacuate. First reports from evacuees had not been encouraging. There were stories of children being mistreated and single women with children being regarded as wastrels and worse. Adrian bore the potential opposition in mind as he composed an application to the authorities, mentioning that three legless invalids required billets preferably immediately adjacent. They were business owners and one employee and might be considered for office-bound work. Arthur posted the letter the following afternoon on his way to the baker.

 

Three days later, a reply arrived. He and his companions were to present themselves at ten o’clock on the following Saturday morning at the Evacuation Office in Waterloo station. They would be billeted together somewhere on the south coast. There was an enclosure explaining what it was permitted or expected to bring. There was no suggestion that the letter was personalised to their situation.

            – This seems clear enough but nowhere does it say where we might be going, other than the south coast.

            – It’ll be fine, Arthur. They can’t force us to stay there if it turns out to be uncomfortable. I’d prefer to be out of town for the duration. You’ve seen for yourself what’s going on around Shoreditch.

 

Adrian was conflicted about whether to use his peg leg or his artificial limb. The latter had recently been refurbished with new leather straps. Unfortunately, they had a tendency to chafe his stump. He would have preferred to appear less disabled on new acquaintance in a new venue but reluctantly decided that he would use his peg with the knee mechanism. Arthur had no cause for hesitation. He had worn a peg leg from the opening days of the first war. He had adopted a similar design as Adrian and his peg folded at the knee. Adrian had a perverse preference for completely rigid pegs. He said they made him feel more secure. They assumed that George would turn up wearing his two wooden legs. He had little choice in the matter. His smart new tin legs had been destroyed along with his collection of walking sticks and crutches when the front of his house was hit by an incendiary. His well-worn wooden legs were fifteen years old and had seen better days although they were still comfortable enough.

 

Saturday morning

 

Arthur packed as much as he could into two rucksacks. He tried to keep the weight down as much as possible. It was challenging to balance with a load on their backs. A few sets of underwear, stump socks and liners, various creams and ointments, a couple of shirts and a spare pair of trousers. Arthur helped Adrian stand and find his centre of gravity. He slung his own rucksack over his shoulders and looked around.

            – Everything is turned off. I’ve let upstairs know that we’ll be gone for a while so they don’t worry themselves. Are you ready?

            – As ready as I’ll ever be. Come on then, before I change my mind.

At eight o’clock, the two men stepped carefully out of Cripple’s Corner and crossed the road to the Underground station. For the last time in quite a while, they laboriously climbed the flight of steps to the platform. There was a long delay before a train arrived and it was going only as far as Earl’s Court. They would have to change to a Piccadilly train and change to the Bakerloo. The deep level trains ran more reliably than the District and Met trains these days. Adrian said he needed a rest so they sat on a bench at Piccadilly to get their strength back. Adrian took out his favourite nosewarmer and fired it into life. He cut quite a figure with his full beard and moustache, his dapper clothes and the shocking single black peg leg. Arthur waited patiently for his friend, his lover, the man who had provided him a living since they met as friends in adversity early in the great war. They had both slowed down with the advancing years. They were both in their forties, in the prime of life, as the saying went. But now they were off on a mystery tour to an unknown future somewhere safe from the bombing, abandoning their successful business. It seemed partly like an adventure and partly like dereliction of duty. Their place was in the centre of things where their skill as manufacturers of tailored prosthetic limbs had made Bell & Callahan into one of the most favoured providers in the home counties. Adrian tapped ashes from his pipe.

            – Alright, my friend. Pull me up and let’s get ourselves to Waterloo.

 

Waterloo was in a state of organised chaos. There were hundreds of children with their mothers or standing in groups. Evacuation officials darted from one group to the next, noting names, numbers and destinations. One harried woman noticed the two men looking very much like country backpackers and approached. As she neared Adrian and Arthur, she became aware of their disability.

            – Good morning, gentlemen. Are you part of the evacuation?

            – Yes, we are. We were instructed to be here for ten o’clock.

            – I see. You must be on the invalid list.

She ruffled through papers attached to her clipboard and found what she was looking for.

            – Yes, here it is. You are assigned to group H. Remember that. Ten thirteen from platform seven. Make your way to platform seven and await further instruction.

            – Thank you, ma’am.

Adrian leaned on his crutches and swung his peg leg into motion. The woman watched him, half in pity, half in excitement at seeing such a handsome figure of a man so cruelly maimed. She felt the hairs on her arms rising in goose bumps, a sure sign which she recognised. She put the licentious thoughts from her head. There was work to be done. There was a war on.

 

Platform seven resembled a scene from a horror film. Dozens if not hundreds of disabled men stood or sat on the platform, a few lucky ones having taken all the available benches. Amputees with and without artificial arms jostled with the legless for the best positions. Their idea was to gain access to the seats first. The train would certainly be full to capacity and more and journey times had suddenly become slow and erratic. It would be a fate worse than death to have to stand all the way to the back of beyond. A train’s whistle split the air and to the passengers’ surprise, one of the Southern Region’s new electric trains slid alongside the platform. Several authority figures called for attention.

            – You will board the train according to which group you have been assigned. Group A, make your way to the rear coach.

A cheer went up and a flurry of disabled men shoved their way along the platform, walking sticks beating their way to the back carriage. A hundred men and more fought their way into a carriage designed for sixty. And so it continued. The logic was obvious. Group B were directed to the second carriage and the waiting passengers voluntarily arranged themselves next to the carriage they expected to be assigned. Arthur looked at Adrian and mouthed Front!

 

It was almost eleven o’clock before the train completed boarding. The guard walked down the length of the train slamming the doors shut. After another long wait, the train jerked into motion and rattled through the network of points outside Waterloo station. Both Adrian and Arthur found seats and Adrian thoughtfully removed his rigid peg to make more room for the one-armed chap strap-hanging in front of him.

 

It was a tedious journey. The train stopped several times for unspecified reasons. The air grew thick with smoke, there was no water or food, and standing passengers slumped against seats. They called at hamlets amid fields where the guard called on successive groups to disembark. Despite room becoming available in other coaches, no-one was allowed to take it. After four hours of torment, the train halted again at a small nameless station. Moments later the guard’s strident voice called for group H to disembark. Arthur rose and threw the door open, waiting while Adrian attached his peg. They climbed down and looked around to see the rest of group H. There were four other men watching them. Two stood holding two walking sticks each, the other two boasted artificial arms with leather-clad fake hands. Further down the platform, a man in a flat cap sat smoking and watching. The guard checked that there were no more passengers for this halt and slammed the doors. He returned to his post in the rearmost carriage and moments later, the train moved off slowly, only to stop again two hundred yards away. The seated stranger stood and crushed his smoke under his heel. He approached the six bewildered amputees and wished them a good afternoon.

            – I’m to collect you and bring you to your billet. I can only take three of you at a time, so which three are comin’ now and which three will wait for a half hour?

It was decided that Adrian and the men with walking sticks should accompany the man first. Arthur and the arm amputees sat on the bench to wait their turn. The local man indicated the exit and they moved off. There was a black Ford concealed behind the station building. The men with sticks handed their baggage to their driver who packed it into the boot. Adrian leant his crutches against the car and shrugged his backpack off. It joined the others.

            – I’m afraid I’m going to need to take my peg off.

            – Do what you need to do. There’s no hurry.

Adrian’s crutches would fit inside only if they intruded on the other passengers’ space. There was quite a collection of mobility aids in the car. Adrian once again detached his peg and held on to it as he straightened himself in the car’s front seat. The driver cranked his car into life and joined them.

 

He drove for over a mile along nondescript country lanes and turned off the road onto a gravel lane which led to a thatch-roofed house with a whitewashed extension to the right.

            – Will you wait here, gentlemen, and I’ll tell Mrs White you’re here.

Several minutes later he returned with Mrs White, a short, lean woman wearing a man’s jacket and a bandanna.

            – Welcome, gentlemen! I was beginning to think that your had changed your minds about coming. Now, if Charlie you’d be so good to unpack the luggage, I’ll escort our guests to their room.

Charlie opened the boot and placed the three backpacks on the ground. Adrian used the time to replace his peg leg and pulled himself up with his crutches. The two passengers in the back used their hands to rearrange their artificial legs so that they could leave the vehicle. Mrs White watched them, forewarned that her evacuees were severely disabled amputees but independent men who did not need outside care. She was a little older than the man with the peg leg, she thought. He looked very distinguished with his handsome full beard and moustache and he seemed to be dressed in his Sunday best. The two men from the back of the car now leaned on their walking sticks, looking bemused at the situation.

            – If you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you to your quarters. Charlie, would you be so kind as to bring the gentlemen’s luggage?

Charlie was about to drive back to the station but begrudgingly picked up the three backpacks and followed the others. The entrance was at the far end of the extension. There was a small entrance hall with a desk and bureau, beyond which the room opened up. There were eight beds, four on each side, with cupboards beside them. In the middle of the room was a long table with eight chairs, four each side and at the end of the room was a fireplace and a couple of easy chairs which had seen better days. A door led into the main house.

            – Take a bed, anywhere you like, except for the two which are already taken. I’ll explain everything when the others get here but until then, make yourselves comfortable. We’ll have tea momentarily.

 

Charlie drove off to fetch the other three evacuees from the station. He tried to remember if there were any more chaps with peg legs. What a palaver that had been! Stone the crows, what a life. The train had gone. He saw Arthur chatting to the other two and his attention was drawn to the peg leg which poked out in front of the man. They spotted him, got up and approached. Charlie led them to his car and noticed that the one-legged man’s peg leg could bend. He had never seen anything like it before. The men sat holding their meagre luggage on their laps. Charlie started the old car and set off back to the estate.

 

Mrs White was outside when she heard the motor. Once again she welcomed the newcomers and escorted them to join the others, who had enjoyed a cup of tea and a biscuit while waiting. Mrs White clapped her hands twice for attention and beamed at her guests.

            – Here we are at last, all except for Mr Jones and Mr Matlock who will get back around six, I expect. Now, as you see, this is perhaps not the kind of accommodation which you expected. This extension was built by my late husband as a way of bringing a few extra pennies in. We ran a youth hostel here and as a result, we have a nicely equipped kitchen, hot water and all the peace of the countryside, which I imagine will come as considerable relief to you. Now, before I forget, I need your ration books. I will register you myself with our shopkeeper but you will be relieved to know that we have a few animals out back, pigs and chickens, and they provide us regularly with a little beyond what the ration book allows us and I hope that you will not speak of it to anyone.

 

            – I have been instructed to tell you that tomorrow morning, you will hear what your positions will be. Beyond that, I have no idea. Now, you three latecomers. Would you like some tea?

Three heads shook.

            – No thank you, ma’am.

            – Just call me Mrs White. Can I have the ration books? I’ll leave you to it to get acquainted. If you need me, that door leads through to the kitchen and I’m almost always in there. Warmest room in the house, these days, you see. Well, I’ll leave you to it.

            – Mrs White, might I ask where we are?

            – This is Coldwaltham, my dear. Bognor Regis is some way to the south of us.

They were none the wiser. Mrs White rubbed her hands and disappeared back to her kitchen.

            – Adrian! I want you to meet Edward and Bill. We had a bit of a natter while we were waiting. Bill got the same letter we did, telling him to be at Waterloo for ten o’clock. And Ed had someone pull him aside at the Evacuation Office. Tell him, Ed.

            – Yes, well, how do you do, by the way.

Adrian took Ed’s proffered hand and felt its rigid wooden fingers inside a brown leather glove.

            – I think we were supposed to call in at the little office, which I did and just as I was about to leave, a military officer took hold of my arm and muttered something or other. I assume I shouldn’t tell you exactly what, but it rang true. Heaven knows how they find these things out but I was told I belong to group H, which turns out to be us six. Or eight, if you include the men who are still out somewhere.

            – It sounds very mysterious. Do you think we’ll been singled out for something?

            – Well, it does appear that way. I mean, we all seem to be disabled so obviously we all have skills beyond the ordinary run of the mill.

            – It does seem strange. And according to Mrs White, we’ll hear more tomorrow. And I should like to introduce my fellow legless companions Stephen and Peter. Believe it or not, Peter is still walking on wooden legs made by none other than Cohen & Son.

            – How do you do. Did Adrian mention what our profession is?

            – He did and I have you pencilled into my little black book of useful contacts.

            – Excellent, squire!

 

The six sat around the long table, exchanging generalisations and brief descriptions of their injuries. Stephen did not provide many details, mentioning only that he had lost his legs as a nipper on a farm very much like the ones they had passed on their way to Coldwaltham. He had a pair of tin legs for his below-knee stumps, held on by lace-up leather sockets, worn to a beautiful glossy patina. Peter’s wooden legs both extended to his groin and he felt fortunate to have retained enough stump to operate the heavy wooden legs. Edward had lost his hands in an explosion in a motorcar repair shop and Bill’s injury was the result of playing with his mates too near to the tramway. He had used artificial hands since he was six years old and the first few pairs were merely cosmetic. But that was twenty years ago. Best not to think about what could have been. The others nodded sagely.

 

The missing members of group H arrived shortly after six. They were both dressed in black trousers and matching jackets which bore the initials G.O.S. on the breast. One was younger than the others present, possibly in his mid-twenties and the other was by far the oldest, nearing or in his sixties. They both walked with walking sticks and both wore built-up boots of shocking size attached to steel struts which formed their leg braces.

            – Ah! At last! Good evening to you all. So good to have some company. May I introduce myself? I am Henry Wilson and this is my young colleague Jeremy Matlock.

Henry heaved himself around the table shaking hands with everyone, followed closely by Jeremy. They reached the end of the table and sat on the last two available chairs, arranging their braced legs to interlock under the table.

            – We’ve been here now for four weeks and have more or less settled in to the new routine— you know, up with the lark, in bed by sundown. I’m afraid there is very little to do here in the evenings, which is why I’m happy to find you all here. Young Jeremy here has some good tales to tell of his travels but I’m afraid to say he’s rather deaf.

Henry looked at Jeremy and covered his ears. Jeremy looked around at the newcomers, nodding morosely before breaking into a wickedly handsome grin. He shrugged in a devil-may-care manner and returned to reading Henry’s lips. Arthur stared at him in wonder. Jeremy was very much the kind of young man he found most interesting—virile, handsome, cheeky and disabled. Arthur also suspected that there was more to Jeremy than met the eye or could be mentioned in polite society.

            – I suppose I should let Mrs White know we’re here.

Henry rose to his feet, dragging his eight inch tall boot from beneath the table. Its horseshoe cleat scraped the floor. He limped to the connecting door and went through to the kitchen. Voices were heard and Henry limped back with a smile. Adrian watched how the rigid leg twisted slightly after the heel noisily struck the floor. It was fascinating to see someone else functioning as a disabled man, disabled in an unfamiliar way. Leg braces and surgical boots were a branch which Bell & Callahan had not considered catering to.

            – Ten minutes. It smells wonderful whatever it is.

 

Mrs White served a shepherd’s pie, apologising that there was so little meat in it. She did not mention that it was rabbit. But the potato crust was delicious and crisp, and the gravy was thick and creamy. As would almost always be the case, Mrs White’s kitchen skills were second to none regardless of how challenging it became to provide eight hungry men with satisfactory meals. With the economy of scale engendered by access to nine ration books, the eight invalids at Coldwaltham would be among the best fed in the county and quickly realised it.

 

After the meal was cleared, Henry suggested a game of poker for pennies. Edward and Bill naturally declined. Stephen volunteered and Adrian made the fourth, apologising that he was really not very familiar with the game.

            – I think you’re bluffing, my friend.

Arthur saw that the seat next to Jeremy was empty and sat down. Arthur looked sideways at Jeremy, watching cards being dealt. The long eyelashes and beautiful thick eyebrows. The fuzz of hair high on the cheeks which promised a magnificent beard a little later in life. And the huge built-up boot, easily nine inches or ten inches high. So much good black leather around such a boot. It did not run cheap, as Arthur knew very well. Jeremy passed a few humourous comments as the game began and turned to see if his neighbour was watching the deal. He was not. He met Jeremy’s eyes directly and held his gaze. Jeremy stared back for the extra second, confirming the doubt, promising the expectation. Arthur was excited and relieved. It had been a while since he had fucked Adrian. They were getting old. No, that was not true. Adrian was losing interest. Arthur, who had only recently turned forty and looked younger, was as ready for an adventure as he had ever been.

 

Sunday

 

 The men settled down to the day of rest after Mrs White had cleared the breakfast things. There was little else to do. It had not occurred to anyone to bring a chess set or anything to while away the time. Arthur and Adrian made a short inspection of the grounds and the vegetable patch but being city boys, they did not recognise any of the plants with certainty.

 

A car pulled up outside. The chauffeur stayed inside and two men in uniform got out and announced themselves to Mrs White, who escorted them to the dormitory for the second time in as many weeks.

            – Good day, gentlemen. If I may have your attention.

The amputees turned to face the newcomers.

            – I see Messrs Jones and Matlock  are present. This does not concern you, gentlemen. Please continue with what you were doing. If Messrs Bell and Callahan would kindly accompany me to the car, we can explain why we are here—indeed, more to the point, why you are here.

Adrian and Arthur glanced at each other. Arthur lent a hand as Adrian found his footing and the pair followed the military man outside. The chauffeur held the rear doors open for them to climb in and stood by some distance away. The official sat in the front passenger seat and leafed through a file of foolscap.

            – Right, I’ll be direct with you. You have been selected because you know how to run a business, which we understand is currently inoperative. We need some scrupulously attentive men with knowledge of double entry bookkeeping and how to keep a close eye on acquisitions in and deliveries out. In short, you will be working for the Ministry of Food, Southern Sector. Your job is to make sure that everything is accounted for. There have already been reports of pilfering and fraud, not locally, fortunately. You will make weekly reports and make special note of any discrepancies. Do you think you are up to the job?

            – I should think so. The quantities involved are far greater than what we are used to but the principle remains the same.

            – Indeed it does.

            – Where will we be working and how are we expected to get there? As you see, both of us have a certain degree of difficulty with our mobility, especially in unfamiliar surroundings.

            – This has been taken into account. You will be collected from the road each morning at approximately, let’s see—seven fifteen, and returned some time before seven in the evening. The working week is from Monday to Saturday and Sundays are free.

            – Whereabouts will we be working?

            – I would prefer not be too precise at this moment but on the outskirts of one of the larger communities in the general area. Do you know this part of the country at all?

            – No. Neither of us have been any closer than Brighton.

            – That is indeed quite a distance. Very well, gentlemen. Thank you for your attention. Please be ready tomorrow morning at a quarter past seven at the end of the driveway for collection. Ah! I almost forgot. You will receive a weekly allowance of four pounds sixteen shillings—not a large sum but enough for what you might need in the way of tobacco and other sundries. And that’s all I have for you. I should have no need to remind you that all this is strictly confidential. You are not to mention your work or anything in connection with it to anybody. Tomorrow you will need to sign the Official Secrets Act so have your papers with you. Let me accompany you back to your quarters.

 

They returned in silence. The official called for Stephen and Peter, who both limped out to the car for their briefing.

            – What do you make of that, Ade?

            – I’m not sure. It sounds like an office job which suits me. The hours are rather long, aren’t they?

            – I suppose they would have to be if we have any distance to travel to this office or whatever it is.

Half an hour later, Stephen and Peter returned looking equally as dumbfounded and bemused as Adrian and Arthur had. They caught each other’s eyes and gestured with open arms and a shrug. The two new handless residents, Edward and Bill, were the last to hear their assignments and returned looking quite confident. Whatever they had been assigned was obviously to their satisfaction. It was almost lunchtime and a tempting aroma wafted from the kitchen. The men cleared the table of their books and journals. Mrs White served a vegetable soup savoured with sage and a main course of potatoes, carrot and boiled ham. The men made little comment about the morning’s revelations but it became obvious that they would all be making the journey to their places of work by bus, an old single-decker marked with Southampton Corporation insignia which had last seen service several years previously. Since no-one ought to discuss their work and with a nascent sense of importance imparted by working on confidential war work, the men felt a growing bond and stoic acceptance of their less than ideal living conditions. It could not be helped. There was a war on.

 

 

Monday

 

With a houseful of hungry residents, Mrs White rose to the challenge with good cheer and good food. Breakfast was on the table at six—freshly baked home made bread, dripping, a little cheese, boiled egg. She always served it with decent crockery and regardless of how meagre the food, it always looked dignified and appetising. All washed down with a mugful of builder’s tea. Tea was not rationed, not yet, although everyone expected it to be. Unknown to the population, hundreds of cargo ships and their crews toiled throughout the war to ensure that the British public never ran out of tea. It was their effort which allowed the public to say, regardless of how difficult life became, ‘Never mind. Let’s have a cuppa’. The eight invalids were all set and ready by seven o’clock, having assisted each other with applying liners and stump socks and a variety of artificial limbs. It would become a normal morning routine, the same men helping each other and being helped in turn.

 

The group made their belaboured way down the driveway to the road. Arthur and Jeremy hung back a little, sharing the last of Arthur’s factory-made cigarettes. It would be roll-ups from now on. Jeremy’s built-up boot and his long leg brace beat a rhythm with Arthur’s peg leg on the gravel path. Ahead of them, gravel crunched beneath Stephen and Peter’s rigid wooden feet, and Adrian stumped along on crutches in front, discussing Ed’s wooden hands. He had not yet revealed that he was an accomplished professional manufacturer of artificial arms and was intrigued to hear Ed’s unbiased opinions about the advantages of the wooden hands compared with steel hooks.

 

Their transport arrived, an old bus painted green with cream decoration with private marked on the destination board. The leg amputees pulled themselves up into the interior and collapsed into the first available seats. There were one or two other passengers already on board. They nodded a good morning. The driver checked that everyone was seated and the bus lurched into motion. Branches scraped against the windows on the narrow country lanes. The bus seemed to be completely lost. It made several more stops to pick up new passengers, all of whom were disabled in some way. After travelling from Coldwaltham for forty-five minutes, the bus turned into a by‑road fenced on each side with chicken wire. It came to a stop in front of a barred check‑point and a guard boarded the bus to inspect everyone’s identity. He checked the names against a register on his clipboard and signalled to his colleague to raise the boom. The driver inched his way forward and stopped in front of a camouflaged one-storey building. The guard went inside to announce the arrival and returned to the entrance, calling out permission for the passengers to disembark.

            – What a palaver, eh? Is it going to be like this every morning?

            – I expect so, at least until they learn to recognise us.

The passengers carefully climbed down from the bus and stood in a loose group, leaning on walking sticks and crutches, watching the efforts of others, appraising disabilities and probable prosthetic limbs. Adrian used the time to fill his pipe and light it. Two men in civilian clothes appeared at the building’s entrance and beckoned the arrivals forward.

            – Just wait in the lobby, if you don’t mind.

The two officials circled among the men, checking names and directing them into various rooms abutting the lobby. Adrian was shown where to go first and was soon joined by Arthur and three other newcomers. Shortly, one of the officials arrived and closed the door behind him.

            – Welcome, gentlemen. I hope you have not been too perturbed by our security arrangements. You will understand that they are quite necessary under the present circumstances. Now, I will demonstrate our bookkeeping system, which you will find quite familiar, I am sure. You will see that new reports are continually delivered and it is our job to collate them and ensure that incoming and outgoing produce match up. Credit and debit, if you like. We are on the lookout for discrepancies, regardless of how minor they may seem.

He distributed new ledgers, made sure everyone had a pen and ink, and showed examples of official reports which had arrived the previous week. It was clear enough after one or two reports which figures were to be entered in which columns, and re-entered for cross-checking. Everyone seemed confident that they understood what was required of them and after the best part of an hour, they were left to begin work.

 

Their work was interrupted at eleven o’clock by the arrival of a trolley bearing a large tea urn and stacked cups, pushed by one of the kitchen staff.

            – Tea, gentlemen. Take a break. Unfortunately there is no sugar. You had better bring your own if you take sugar.

There was milk. People were becoming used to sugarless drinks. Sugar was not yet rationed but it was only a matter of time. The five co-workers used the few minutes available to introduce themselves. Fred was a shoe shop owner from Dagenham, very much one of nature’s bachelors, but friendly enough. He had lost both legs as a child in a Zeppelin raid in 1918. He had an assured mechanical gait on his tin legs. David had come a cropper on the Somme and counted himself lucky to have been hurt near a field hospital. Anywhere else, he reckoned, he would have been left to perish. He ran a fish and chip shop in Bow and had been bombed out. He had two below knee prostheses, old-style wooden legs with thigh corsets which creaked when he walked. Adrian and Arthur demonstrated their peg legs, which caused the others to exclaim various degrees of admiration.

            – It takes a lot of effort to use a peg, I reckon.

            – I suppose it’s something I’ve got used to, Fred. I do have an artificial leg but it’s back home in Parson’s Green. I thought I’d do better with a peg just in case we’re stuck in the back of beyond without recourse to a repair shop.

            – You’re right about the back of beyond. Does anyone know where we are exactly?

            – Not really. Our landlady mentioned that we were some distance north of Bognor. It’s a bit awkward to judge without there being any signposts along the roads. We could be anywhere. Well, best get back to work, eh? Helps pass the time until dinner.

 

Adrian found the work simple enough but was also intrigued at the amount of food available and by the intricacy of distributing it fairly. He also uncovered a discrepancy in fuel rationing in Bournemouth and called it to the attention of one of his supervisors.

            – We’ll keep an eye on that over the next fortnight, Bell. It could be that one of the reports is late or mislaid somewhere. Well done. Keep it up.

 

The bus stood waiting for the crowd of workers at six o’clock. They made their way back to Coldwaltham, feeling tired from the mental effort and hungry. Perhaps it might be possible to persuade Mrs White to prepare a few sandwiches for them in future. They could well afford to pay. It was simply a matter of whether the rations would suffice. It seemed ironic.

 

But after the evening meal, Peter produced a fresh pack of cards which he had bought from someone in his department and a lively game of poker took place. Edward and Bill sat by, stoically watching the game, sometimes wishing they could join in and quickly putting the idea from their heads. It was an enjoyable way to while away the rest of the evening and became a regular fixture in their routine.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Jeremy gradually understood that Arthur was attracted to him. He was not a proud man. Being disabled with a severe limp and his huge built-up boot on display to all and sundry, it was a rare occasion to find himself the focus of attraction. He knew he was a handsome man. He kept himself trim, dressed smartly and had impeccable manners. Arthur managed to corner him one Sunday morning when they were both taking a constitutional before breakfast. The sun had been up for a couple of hours and promised a beautiful day. The men approached each other on the lane outside the grounds and exchanged a few words. They continued walking together, Arthur walking back in the direction from which he had come.

 

            – How are you enjoying it here, Jeremy? It’s a bit different from home, don’t you think?

Arthur spoke as clearly as possible, remembering that Jeremy was hard of hearing.

            – It is. I’ve never really spent any time in the country. I grew up in Leytonstone, see? Sometimes when we were kids, mum and dad would take us to Epping Forest on the train for a picnic but other than that, we rarely saw any greenery.

Arthur explained his own circumstances. Growing up in and around Shoreditch, working there and then moving further out to Parson’s Green which was a bit less built-up and a bit newer. There was a wooden barn about a hundred yards away, just inside the perimeter of a fence. A wide wooden gate led to it. Maybe they could get past it somehow. Other people had been before them and had broken open a gap. They squeezed in, balancing carefully on the uneven ground, and walked across towards the barn. There was a door hanging on by only one rusted hinge on the wall facing away from the road. Arthur peered inside. There were a couple of bales of hay and a scattering of it on the floor.

            – Let’s sit down for a minute.

 

Jeremy bent to release the locks on his leg braces and sat close to Arthur. There was at least ten years age difference between them but neither paid it any notice. Arthur turned and placed a hand on Jeremy’s cheek. His thumb traced the left eyebrow, his fingers touched the ear and moved to the man’s lips. Jeremy allowed Arthur to touch his mouth for a second or two and opened it to grip Arthur’s index finger with his teeth. He sucked at it. Arthur put his finger in deeper and Jeremy sucked harder.

            – Shall we? Now?

            – Yes. Help me!

            – Stand in front of me.

Arthur loosened Jeremy’s trouser belt and opened the flies. He pulled on the trousers and they fell, revealing the full extent of Jeremy’s disability. The left leg was visible inside its steel and leather cage, an undeveloped limb like that of a young boy. The steel bracing extended along the huge orthopaedic boot and attached to its heel. Arthur worked the underpants over the leg brace to release Jeremy’s tool. The glans glistened. He leaned forward and took it into his mouth. Jeremy held Arthur’s shoulders. His knees felt weak but he knew his leg iron would not let him down. He tilted his head back in pleasure and looked down to see the older man twisting his head to envelope his cock even more. It felt like his entire body was light enough to float, tight sensations building in power inside him until suddenly the pressure ceased, leaving only ecstasy. His prostate pulsed and Arthur’s throat took his sperm. Arthur hawked and spat and looked at Jeremy’s expression. He still held Arthur’s shoulders and balanced on his enormous boot. Arthur waited half a minute.

            – Lie on your belly! Down there.

Jeremy looked at Arthur’s face as if to seek confirmation. Arthur nodded at the floor behind Jeremy. He manoeuvred his crippled leg and knelt on his sound leg. The huge boot turned inwards and its outer edge lay almost flat on the ground. He watched Arthur open his trousers and let them drop. He balanced on his long black peg and kicked the trousers off his natural leg and lifted his peg leg out. He swung it over Jeremy’s legs and knelt on his sound leg. The peg leg knocked against Jeremy’s leg brace as Arthur sought a suitable position. The uppermost strap of Jeremy’s leg brace was already pulling on his buttock. Adrian prised them apart and lubricated Jeremy’s anus with precum. He poked and thrusted his tool into his mate’s body and rearranged his position. The prosthetic devices scraped against each other. Arthur’s peg leg found a niche between Jeremy’s knee cuff and a lower leg strut and rested there. Arthur raised himself on his hands and began his signature slow coitus which Adrian loved. Arthur achieved orgasm only in slow and steady phases. His penis almost exited before it was plunged deeper and again withdrawn. Arthur knew what Jeremy was experiencing but fully intended to expend every last drop of spunk he had produced in the weeks since he last had Adrian. Jeremy was unused to anal intercourse which seemed to last for ever. He tried to change his position but was held firmly in place by Arthur’s wide hands. The peg leg slipped and it began to knock against his leg brace with every thrust. It sounded ridiculous and erotic. Jeremy thought of the legless man’s power. He was able to maintain his rhythm despite having only one leg. And his cock felt so good. It hit the right spot every time. Every time. And again. Arthur fell against his shoulders and pumped for many seconds. The scraping ceased and Arthur lay on Jeremy’s back until he rolled off, drawing a thick line of spunk across Jeremy’s buttock and leg brace. They lay on the ground recovering their composure and slowly dressed.

            – Are you ready? Shall we go back?

            – Probably best before anyone starts getting suspicious.

 

– – – – – – –

 

Life returned to some kind of predictable routine. Living conditions were simple at best but the continual company of men their own age all of whom had to cope with identical conditions made life more bearable and everyone agreed that Mrs White did her level best to ensure their comfort. Working hours were long and tiring but the importance of their travail to the war effort was obvious enough and they felt some degree of self-worth despite their situation. Several of the men were able to hone skills they had to such a degree that they would either be favoured employees after the war or in a position to start businesses of their own. Despite difficulties, morale at Coldwaltham remained high. Jeremy and Arthur kept their liaison as secret as the other things they were bound to conceal. Adrian suspected nothing. The two men had never specifically reached any formal agreement regarding carnal matters. Arthur was careful only not to disturb Adrian’s frame of mind.

 

Christmas 1940

 

There was a four day furlough. Those with family or other seasonal commitments would be transported by Charlie in his old Ford to the station and thence to their destination, with luck and good winds. Adrian and Arthur discussed the matter and decided that Arthur would return to London to check on his sister and her children, and also visit his mother. His niece and nephews had been evacuated in September but had not adapted well to being parted from their mum and had returned a month ago. He also wanted to see if Bell & Callahan was still standing. The East End had been hit badly but there were areas where most of the damage was by fire, which the local firefighters battled against nightly. If there was time, he might pay Cripple’s Corner a visit to collect any post and check on Smiffy and Charlie. He knew the place was still standing. Smiffy had promised to let them know of there was ever any air raid damage.

 

Adrian had few family ties. There was an old uncle, his father’s brother, in Sunderland, a widower for many years, who had retired near to the factory which had generated much of the family’s wealth when the Queen was alive. His aunt had suffered a mental breakdown after her only son, Adrian’s cousin Albert, went missing in action at the beginning of the great war, and she had never fully recovered. The huge old Paddington house had been left to Adrian on the death of his mother, naturally enough, but it was entirely impractical for a legless man and his companion and it was sold. Adrian invested the proceeds and received a regular amount of interest. It was his lifetime security should anything happen to his business. Assuming victory, there would be much new business when hostilities ceased and a new generation of young ex-servicemen and civilian victims alike needed new artificial limbs.

 

None of the Coldwaltham inmates professed to being religious but Mrs White was in the habit of attending church on Sunday mornings, more out of curiosity to catch up on local news and gossip than any devout belief. She persuaded her remaining guests to attend a Christmas Eve service with her and promised that Charlie would ferry those who desired a lift. The church was nearly two miles away, a formidable distance for a man on wooden legs or who relied on crutches and a single peg leg. The event sounded promising and the whole community attended. Charlie turned up at exactly the agreed time and ferried Adrian, Peter and Henry in the old car. The service was enjoyable. The amputees were all strangers but were welcomed warmly by both the vicar and the local congregation. The church had been beautifully decorated with holly and pine branches bearing cones, the vicar preached the Christmas story and the organist set the pace for the familiar hymns and carols which everyone knew most of the words to. They enjoyed themselves, some surprised by the fact. Everyone had a new sense of belonging and felt grateful for it.

 

Arthur wandered the damaged streets around his sister’s home. He had always thought that they should be demolished and replaced with modern blocks of flats with inside toilets and bathrooms but it was alarming to see the destruction wrought from above. Arthur felt indignant. His old neighbours did not deserve the pounding they had received that autumn. They were decent, honest folk for the most part, and had borne the brunt of the nightly attacks on the docks. Stray bombs devastated tight-knit communities and scattered families far and wide. Things would never be the same again. He walked along Stepney High Street and surveyed the damage. One side of the street had boarded windows, the results of bomb blasts, no doubt, but apart from shards of glass outside the frontage and brick dust clinging to the window, Bell & Callahan seemed to be in condition. His key grated in the lock but the door opened and he stepped inside for the first time in almost six months. There was dust everywhere and a pile of letters in front of the door. The place seemed to be in order. The heavier machinery in the back was still in place, biding time. Arthur wondered if Bell & Callahan would ever function again in this building, on this street. No‑one knew. No‑one could tell him. He picked up the letters, locked the door and pegged along to Petticoat Lane to buy some toys for the children.

 

1941

 

Arthur returned on the evening of the twenty-seventh. It had taken longer to get from the local station to Coldwaltham than from London. He assured Adrian that the shop was still standing, that his family was managing, and that Charlie and Smiffy were doing as well as could be expected. Charlie was still on the trams. Smiffy had given up begging at King’s Cross. He had already accrued enough to live on for many years. He intended waiting out the war and would look around for a job afterwards. There would be thousands of invalids searching for gainful employment and he would avail himself of the opportunities.

 

Smiffy was one of those optimists who were sure of victory. He was an East Ender, always upbeat, practical and pragmatic, and defensive of the decent things he knew were right. But the situation did not look promising. The enemy had ceased bombing the docks every night and people could get some sleep again. The news, censored though it may be, was not encouraging. The community of invalids at Coldwaltham knuckled down and resumed their austere duties.

 

Arthur’s positive news preyed on Adrian’s conscience. He understood the importance of the war work he was doing but reasoned that it could be done by almost anyone with a knowledge of bookkeeping.  He felt he would be able to serve better if he were allowed to return to London and continue his profession, the manufacture of artificial limbs. He discussed the matter with Arthur who was dubious about their choice in the matter. Adrian promised to delve into the matter further and find out where they stood.

 

No-one at their place of work was prepared to say one way or the other. His superiors either genuinely had no authority to decide on their employment or they did not wish to involve themselves in a matter they regarded as irrelevant. After several weeks of official indecision, Adrian wrote an explanatory letter to the Ministry of Food and expressed his beliefs that he could be of more use if he were allowed to return to the capital. As greenery returned to the countryside, an official letter addressed to Adrian Bell, Esquire, arrived. Mrs White handed it over one morning at breakfast.

            – This looks rather important, Mr Bell.

            – Oh! I’ve been expecting this. Thank you, Mrs White.

Adrian waited until he was on the bus before opening it. It was written in officialese, stilted language intended to be impenetrable and officious. Adrian’s heart sank as its meaning unfolded. The war work was of essential importance. No deviation for personal preferences was entertained. In short, they would not be allowed to leave their current positions to return to their civilian professions for the duration of hostilities.

 

It was a double disappointment. Not only could they not return home, they were also compelled to continue with the present arrangements for the foreseeable future. Adrian sat staring blankly at the passing scenery, the letter trembling in his hand. After a few minutes, he had recovered his composure and put the letter in his inside jacket pocket. To make matters worse, he had run out of pipe tobacco and it would be some time before he could buy more.

 

Outwardly, Adrian remained the same thoughtful good-natured man but his mood had been soured. A new edict proclaimed that milk too was rationed from the beginning of the year which led to a considerable increase in their work load. That something so trivial could demand such a drain on brainpower and effort. All to stop shopkeepers handing over an extra bottle of milk to a favoured customer. It was ridiculous.

 

Arthur noticed the change in Adrian’s mood soon enough. When they had a private moment, Adrian explained what the Ministry of Food had replied to his perfectly reasonable enquiry.

            – So you mean to say that we’re stuck here for as long as the war goes on?

            – Yes. That’s what it means. How do you feel about that?

            – Well, it’s shocking, ain’t it? I mean, I don’t mind checking figures for them but I don’t feel like they have the right to say whether I come or go. It’s none of their business whether I stay here or go back to London.

            – That’s just it, though, Arthur. It is their business and they can say where we have to be.

            – Stone the bleedin’ crows. Who’d’ve believed it, eh?

Arthur was not as perturbed as Adrian. He was not as anxious to return to London, having seen the state of the place with his own eyes. And he had Jeremy.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Arthur had become infatuated with Jeremy’s deformed leg. On the rare occasions when they managed to slip away to the old barn together, Arthur insisted that Jeremy remove his heavy leg brace before love-making. More than once, Arthur had spent time caressing the short limb before turning to the steel and leather contraption which enabled Jeremy to walk. The boot was especially enticing. It fit Jeremy’s small foot perfectly and therefore its shocking length was exaggerated. It was not unlike a thick peg leg, something which Arthur was quick to point out.

            – If you had your leg off just above your knee, you could walk on a peg like mine. I reckon it would be a lot easier to get about than lugging that heavy brace around all day.

            – I know. I’ve thought about applying for an amputation before but the doctor I spoke to said they don’t do amputations just because you want them and that there’s nothing wrong with using crutches if I don’t feel up to walking on my boot. So I’m stuck with this. I don’t mind, Arthur. Don’t worry about it. I’ll admit the brace is a bit of a nuisance sometimes but I love my boot. I think you like it too, don’t you?

            – I love it. You keep it looking smart, too. I like that. Nice and shiny. Now get down on the floor for me.

Arthur removed his peg leg and placed it alongside Jeremy’s leg brace. They looked so erotic beside each other, as if they were close companions too. Arthur rubbed his stump and dropped down to lie beside Jeremy. They kissed and ran their fingers through each other’s hair. Arthur felt Jeremy’s muscular chest and abdomen, the stiff erect nipples, the smooth belly. Then the handsome penis, a perfect size and shape, with a flaring glossy glans, glistening now with precum. Arthur pushed Jeremy onto his front and began the foreplay unique to themselves. Arthur stroked Jeremy’s disabled leg with his thigh stump, enjoying the limbs’ shortcomings and disability. The stump was an awkward thing to use for intimacy but it strengthened the sensation of amputation and a missing limb. The absence of his leg and the remaining stump were still as erotically charged as they had been when he first walked out of Cohen’s wearing his new peg leg for the first time, feeling Adrian’s eyes on him as he cockily strutted out to the street. Arthur’s penis gained additional power and urgency from the thought. He spread Jeremy’s buttocks wide and entered his friend.

 

It was always a disappointment to return to their digs. Their living quarters had gradually become a surrogate home and various room dividers had risen to provide a modicum of privacy. But there was no opportunity for love and Arthur was still cautious about offending Adrian. The man’s mind was already preoccupied with other matters. Arthur was trying to think of a situation after the war when Jeremy might join them. Perhaps they could branch out into making leg braces and have Jeremy working with them, a customer service receptionist or whatever the proper name was. Arthur did not relish the idea of suddenly losing contact with Jeremy after the war ended and people were allowed to return home.

 

Work continued. Adrian uncovered another major source of fraud involving petrol. This time the regulated distributor was implicated. Adrian was quietly congratulated and commended, not realising that his aptitude strengthened his tie to the job. He was even less likely to be allowed to leave than before. He had managed to resign himself to his situation. Things could be worse. He was safe, in work and respected in his small community.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Adrian’s department received a new recruit, a young man who was introduced to the bookkeepers as Derek Holme. He was in his late twenties, wore a brown corduroy jacket and a pair of olive shorts from which extended a single peg leg. He was leaning on axillary crutches, which were so common a sight as to be almost invisible.

            – Mr Bell, might I impose upon you, sir? If you would be so kind as to take Mr Holme under your capable wing for a week or two and show him the ropes, so to speak, I should be most obliged.

            – Of course.

            – Good man.

Derek Holme lifted himself on his crutches and carefully pegged across to the chair next to Adrian. Adrian was surprised to see someone in the exact same situation as himself, although it was obvious that Holme was a novice and lacked the familiarity with his peg leg which Adrian had achieved twenty years prior. Holmes balanced carefully and held out his hand.

            – Derek Holme, reporting for service, sir.

            – Adrian Bell. How do you do. Sit down, Derek. May I call you Derek?

            – By all means.

Adrian waited until Holmes had settled himself, crutches by his side, peg leg resting horizontally on the chair seat. Adrian’s own peg and crutches were on the floor beside him. He had long since learned that it was far more convenient to remove the peg for the long hours spent seated. The supervisor brought Holmes a brand new ledger and a cardboard box containing a goodly amount of reports to be entered. Adrian showed him what he was currently working on along with a couple of previous entries. Holmes seemed to understand the principle well enough and turned to his first assignment. He read through the report noting the figures and indicated to Adrian how he thought the entries should be made. Adrian nodded. Holmes smiled back, clearly pleased to have picked up the formalities so quickly and winning the bearded man’s approval.

            – Ask anything if you’re not sure, Derek. These reports can be a little convoluted at times. Not everyone who has to fill them out has a clear idea of what they’re doing and it can be a bit of a muddle sometimes.

            – Only natural, I suppose.

They worked together. The idea crossed Adrian’s mind that the man had not yet realised that he was seated next to another man who also used only a single peg leg. He wondered if it was a strictly temporary phase before the man was fitted with prosthetic legs or whether he had decided to adopt a single peg leg through personal preference. He looked remarkable virile on one peg. Adrian assumed he had also cut a similar figure in his former years.

 

As the time approached noon, Adrian made a few last checks on the report he had been working on and laid down his pen. He swivelled in his chair and reached down for his peg leg. Derek glanced across and noticed what he was doing.

            – By God! I hadn’t noticed that you use a peg leg too. Are you recently injured, Mr Bell?

Adrian laughed.

            – No! I’ve been legless since before the start of the last war. Always used a peg unless decorum calls for something less obvious.

He tightened the buckles holding his peg to his leather corset, lifted his crutches to lean against the table and pulled himself upright.

            – It’s time for lunch. I’m going to the canteen. Are you coming or do you want to continue?

            – I’ll come alright. Do we need our ration books?

            – No, this is included.

            – Jolly good.

The two men stepped away from their desk and pegged out into the corridor and along to the canteen, from which the distinctive smell of boiled cabbage emanated. Since neither could be expected to take a plate of food to a table themselves, they placed their orders and sat down facing each other at a nearby table. Their peg legs clashed under the table.

            – Excuse me.

            – Don’t worry. No damage done.

Another handsome smile. Holmes looked around at his surroundings. The walls were dark green and cream, decorated with posters exhorting the reader to remember that walls have ears and to look out in the black-out. There were a few other diners, several of them tackling their meals with artificial arms and hooks. It was interesting to see how accomplished they appeared, using their hooks as well as an ordinary man would use his hands. Holmes had watched several arm amputees when he was recovering from his own injuries and he remembered the despair on their faces as they flailed their stumps trying to operate their new hooks. One of the kitchen staff delivered their meals. Boiled cabbage, a little mashed potato, a few peas and some braised meat of indistinct origin. Two slices of white bread were also permitted and there was a cup of unsweetened tea after the meal. Neither man made any comment about the meal. It was prepared well enough but only enough for a child in normal times.

            – Have you been an amputee for long, Derek? I was wondering why you use a peg rather than an artificial leg.

            – Three years now, almost to the day. Do you remember the Oakley Junction train crash in Bedfordshire? I had the misfortune to be in the second carriage and got mangled pretty badly. I was trapped by my legs, you see, and they had to be amputated on the spot to get me out.

            – How awful. I’m afraid I don’t remember that accident, though.

            – Anyway, I was left with a stump and a half.

            – Ha! What on earth do you mean?

            – Well, I have a decent stump on the left, a bit more than half my thigh, you know, handy for using with the peg. But the other one is only half as long.

            – Not very long at all, then. I see. I have no stump at all on that side.

            – That is unfortunate.

            – I thought so at first, of course, but I have made a fine living from being legless, so I can’t complain.

            – What is it you do?

            – Well, right now, I check rations procurement. But I’m part-owner of a company which manufactures prosthetic limbs. The trouble is that it’s in Shoreditch.

            – Oh! I see the problem.

            – Indeed. So after we closed down, we were snapped up for war work as soon as we applied for evacuation.

            – Were you bombed out?

            – As far as I know, the place is still standing but there’s a lot of lesser damage in the area. My colleague was there over Christmas and inspected the place.

            –Let’s hope there’s no more bombing. It seemed to have died down now. Well, we had better get back, don’t you think?

Adrian glanced at his watch.

            – I suppose so.

Both men rose in the same way, lifting themselves by holding onto the edge of the table and positioning their crutches smartly under their arms. Holmes led the way. Adrian watched the movement of his peg leg, fascinated to see a familiar device in use by another man. It was an elegant way to ambulate. He swung his own peg along, savouring its secure rigidity and comfort.

            – I was going to ask you why you use a peg leg, Derek.

            – Yes. I often get asked. It was the first leg they gave me, you see. In rehabilitation. I was in Roehampton, if you know it.

            – I know it very well.

            – Yes, I expect so. And after I got used to the feel of it and how it moves, I never felt the need for an artificial leg. And I hope you won’t mind me saying so but I like the way I look. I like being legless on crutches with a single solitary peg leg. Does that sound very odd?

            – Not at all. I know exactly what you mean. It is unusual, as I’m sure you realise. But some men seem to find themselves after amputation. Almost as if they were meant to lead disabled lives and to thrive doing so.

            – That’s how I feel. You express it very well. Ah well, here we are.

They manoeuvred their pegs under the desk and continued their work.

 

Arthur had been transferred to the adjacent office from the beginning of the year, nominally as some kind of supervisor but more realistically, as a pair of hands. All his colleagues were bilateral arm amputees. Arthur had been singled out for his matter-of-fact attitude to seeing prosthetic hands and steel hooks. Most people were perturbed by seeing so much severe invalidity in one place but Arthur was completely at ease. The bilaterals were all experienced bookkeepers, purloined from small companies or selected from evacuees. Several of them brandished indelible pencils with skill and craftsmanship. Others preferred to enter their figures on sheets of paper for someone else to enter into a ledger. Arthur spent much of the day cutting foolscap-sized sheets of paper from old rolls of wallpaper. They had a fairly good supply of discarded rolls. Arthur was not looking forward to bleaching newsprint as an official circular had recommended. The rest of his time was spent deciphering the pencilled scrawls and inking them neatly into ledgers. He marked significant discrepancies in red ink and alerted his own superiors.

 

Work continued until six. Then there was a daily clamour while prosthetic limbs were reattached, jackets and coats were held open for arm amputees to put their unfeeling prostheses into and ledgers and other documents were locked in safes. Derek waited for Adrian, not sure of protocol. His colleagues were simply leaving. Adrian was finally ready and collected his jacket from the back of his chair. He leaned against the table while he fed his arms into the sleeves, balancing on his peg.

            – Oh! You’re still here. No need to wait, Derek. There’s nothing else to be done.

            – I see. I wasn’t sure.

Adrian crutched across to where Derek stood by the door, switched off the lights and they left.

            – Is your billet around here?

            – Not far, I suppose. Seven or eight miles.

            – Good heavens! How are you going to get there? Does a bus pick you up?

            – Chance would be a fine thing. No, no. I have a trike outside. You’ll laugh when you see it. I brought it from home in the guard’s van. That was quite a palaver, I can tell you. How about you?

            – Oh, there’s an old bus which they confiscated from a museum comes to pick up our crowd. Should be here in a minute.

            – Jolly good. Well, thank you for your help, Mr Bell. I appreciate it. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Adrian watched Derek peg along to the end of the building and turn the corner. A minute later, he reappeared on his tricycle, a twenty year old hand-operated vehicle for a legless man. It even had a canvas hood to keep the rain off. Derek’s peg leg pointed the way as he turned the trike’s hand crank. It was odd to see a young man in such a decrepit contraption. Derek raised a hand as the green and cream single-decker turned into the forecourt. The Coldwaltham group boarded and were shortly back home, looking forward to the best moment of the day, Mrs White’s dinner.

 

Adrian and Arthur’s relationship was as amicable and reliable as ever. They had their own corner of the dormitory to themselves but had not made physical love since arriving. Adrian had masturbated several times when weeks of celibacy drove him to it. Arthur’s liaisons with Jeremy, currently reading on his bed at the other end of the room, were his outlet but to add to the deceit, Arthur was fostering a desire for a closer relationship with the leg-braced cripple. It was a conundrum which preyed on his mind every day. It was disloyal to Adrian but Jeremy was virile, enthusiastic and desirable. His enormous boot and his belaboured gait were additional bonuses. Arthur loved watching Jeremy walking, heaving and twisting his body to swing the useless leg along, hearing the horseshoe cleat striking the ground at regular intervals. Something would have to be decided one way or another before long. After twenty-odd years with Adrian, they were like an old married couple, not needing to speak, knowing what the other was thinking and how they felt. Jeremy’s presence had thrown a spanner in the works.

 

Adrian was also in turmoil. After only a few hours in Derek’s company, and at work above all things, he felt a growing love and desire for a man which had paled with Arthur a decade ago. When he closed his eyes, Adrian could see Derek’s gratifying smile, his uninhibited freedom to express his feelings and his self‑confident masculinity to a complete stranger. That he should do so while being so severely disabled, almost by choice, indicated to Adrian that they had much more in common to discover about themselves. And Adrian, while not willing to disappoint Arthur, wanted to know Derek better—to see his smile, to feel his body and explore their leglessness in a mutually erotic manner.

 

Adrian and Arthur were both, unknown to the other, hatching future plans which involved embarking in new directions. Adrian was infatuated with his new colleague on his single peg leg and Arthur lusted for Jeremy with his steel and leather braces leading to the stunning built-up boot. Sooner or later, something would give. There was trouble ahead.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Trouble was delivered by Mrs White later that week. A large brown envelope had been forwarded to Coldwaltham for Adrian Bell, Esquire. Mrs White handed it over just before breakfast. It was the annual breakdown of fees and charges for the rental property on Stepney High Street, trading as Bell & Callahan.

            – Oh God! Look at this, Arthur.

Arthur scanned the paper, noting the amounts owed on a defunct business.

            – Stone the crows! All this expense for nothing. Ade, listen. I think we should close the business for the duration. Start up again after this is all over with new machinery in a new place.

            – I’m inclined to agree with you. There’s a still a goodly amount of equipment in the back room, though. I don’t want to lose it unless it’s unavoidable.

            – Sell it. That’s what we should do. What’s in there? The lathe and grinder. Nothing wrong with them.

            – They’re at least twenty years old, Arthur. No-one wants that sort of thing.

            – You never know. Lots of places have been bombed out. I’ll wager there’s many a soul who’d be grateful for a twenty year old lathe.

            – Yes, I suppose so. So would you agree that we should close the business?

            – You mean not just the shop but the whole company? I’ll have to have a think about that.

 

Adrian could well afford the expense of closing Bell & Callahan. He had the proceeds from the sale of his parents’ house to his name, many thousands. It was the inconvenience of the whole business which annoyed him the most. It would not be easy to divest themselves of the rental property and its remaining contents while they were exiled in Coldwaltham. Apart from the imminent annual charges and fees, there was no great urgency. They could plan what to do over the next few weeks and put the process into motion. They would probably have to hire a solicitor for terminating the company. Even that would pose a problem. Adrian should really take a few days off and return to the capital to arrange his affairs, preferably with Arthur. Arranging that called for some delicate negotiation too. It was all too much.

 

There was another matter which needed to be settled. Adrian had gradually noticed that Arthur was more distant, less likely to chat. He put it down to general fatigue and boredom at first but noticed that Arthur and Jeremy were often absent together and returned at the same time. It did not take much to realise what was happening. Adrian was not a jealous man and realised well enough that his libido was not what it had once been. It was always Arthur who initiated one of their intimate interludes. Adrian wondered if Arthur was still willing to share the flat in Parson’s Green or if he might eventually follow Jeremy, wherever that might be. At forty-five, Adrian was too mature to fret about matters of the heart but he wondered about the practicalities of life without his life-long companion. His mind turned to Derek and he suddenly realised how hypocritical he was. He would much prefer to start anew after the war with the handsome young peg legger who demonstrated the same insouciance and defiance as he himself had in his youth. They were not only perfectly matched by similar outlooks but Adrian was also enamoured by Derek’s handsome face and smile, not to mention his trim body and stumps. Adrian also sensed that Derek might appreciate a long‑term relationship with an older man, a senior figure who had also adapted to living a wholesome life on a single peg leg. Derek’s disability was still comparatively new. It would be a shame if he abandoned his peg for a pair of artificial legs a little later in life. Adrian was fairly sure that he would retain his peg if they were together, gaining self-confidence from the other’s presence.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Adrian wrote to his employees and associates from Bell & Callahan, explaining his intention to close the company and wishing everyone good fortune in the future. Ben replied and enquired about the fate of the heavy machinery in Stepney. He knew exactly what the equipment was and its condition. He was sure he knew someone who would be keen to buy it. Adrian was hugely relieved that he might sell it without needing to be present and delegated the sale to Ben, who, he knew, had a copy of the keys to the premises.

 

One Sunday morning after breakfast, Arthur put his jacket on as if to go out.

            – Wait a minute, Arthur. I’ll come with you. I could do with some fresh air.

Arthur looked surprised. He and Jeremy had arranged to meet in a disused bus shelter, from which they usually walked to the old barn.

            – Oh! Alright.

Arthur helped Adrian put his own jacket on and held out Adrian’s flat cap. He looked very much the country gentleman. Adrian settled his crutches into his armpits and found his balance.

            – After you, squire.

Adrian swung his peg leg and lifted himself over the rigid leg. A few more steps and he would find his rhythm, making progress effortless and automatic. It was the greatest advantage of using a peg. There was only one movement possible, only one well-practised motion. The peg leg swung ahead alternating with the crutches’ rubber ferrules. Glancing first at the path head, Adrian turned to Arthur and measured his words.

            – Tell me about Jeremy.

Arthur was shocked and confused. He looked towards Adrian, his eyes seeing Adrian’s salt‑and‑pepper beard.

            – You know. I’m sorry, Adrian. I tried to keep it from you. I don’t want to hurt you.

            – I’m not sure I do know. That’s why I’m asking.

Adrian pegged on at his own speed, knowing that his one-legged companion could easily keep pace. He waited for Arthur to find his wits.

            – I suppose you could say me and Jeremy are very good friends.

            – Is it physical?

            – Yes. Physical. I’m sorry, Adrian.

            – Is it because of me?

            – No! It’s because of Jeremy. I thought I could, you know, make love once or twice. We haven’t been together since we arrived down here and it was difficult. And it so transpired that we get along very well and one thing led to another.

            – Do you love him, Arthur?

            – I think I do. Yes, I do. I’m sorry.

            – No need to be sorry, Arthur. I know very well that you still have a man’s needs while mine have dried up lately. On top of the lack of privacy down here. Where do you go to… you know?

            – To the old barn on the neighbouring farm.

Adrian knew it by sight. If Derek lived closer, they might easily have paid the old barn a visit themselves.

            – What are we going to do, Arthur? Are we still going to live together in Parson’s Green after this is all over or are you going to stay with Jeremy? What do you want to do?

It was an excruciating question for Arthur. There were so many things he could not be sure about. How long the evacuation would last. How his tryst would affect his relationship with Adrian. What Jeremy might think if their friendship suddenly ended with life returning to the way it had been before the war. No, that would never happen. There was no way back. Nothing would be the same.

            – I don’t know, Adrian. I really don’t know. I still want to be with you. We’ve been good together, haven’t we? Good mates? But I can’t face losing Jeremy. Can you understand?

            – I don’t know, Arthur. We’ll have to see.

In the general confusion, they had strolled in the direction of the old bus shelter. Adrian spotted the unmistakable sight of an orthopaedic boot jutting out, although its wearer was still hidden.

            – Look, Arthur. I think it’s your friend.

Arthur came to his senses and realised where they were. In a matter of seconds, the three of them would confront each other. In his confusion, he tripped and in the split second before he fell, he smashed his peg leg into the ground with such force that it snapped at the knee. The lower section fell to the ground. Arthur barely succeeded in remaining upright but he had never felt so helpless in his life.

            – Oh Christ almighty!

Jeremy heard the kerfuffle and peered around the edge of the bus shelter. He was dumbfounded to see both Arthur, clearly in trouble, and Adrian, of all people. What was he going to do? There was only one thing for it. He heaved himself erect and lurched as fast as possible to join the others.

            – Good grief! What happened?

            – I tripped and broke it. Gawd! What am I going to do now? I can hardly hop all the way home.

Jeremy thought for a moment and made a suggestion.

            – Look, sit in the bus shelter and wait. Do you happen to have a pair of crutches back at the digs?

            – No. I don’t need crutches.

            – Well, you do now. Mr Bell, sir, might it be possible to loan Arthur your crutches if we return first? I can easily carry the crutches back here for Arthur.

            – Yes, of course. As I understand it, you know the route quite well.

Jeremy sensed the sarcasm and it jarred. Did Adrian know about their liaison?

            – Actually, it is probably the best thing. Come along, Jeremy. Let’s get back and you can borrow my crutches. Arthur, sit tight and wait.

Arthur held the shaft of his broken peg leg and hopped twenty yards to the bus shelter. He disappeared from view.

            – Come on, then, Jeremy. Let’s get going.

They walked together for half a minute before Adrian spoke.

            – I was talking to Arthur about what he wants to do. You must know that we share a flat in London and we’ve been together for twenty-odd years. It’s not easy to hear that someone else is breaking our friendship up.

            – That’s not what we want at all, sir.

            – So do you mean that when we leave Coldwaltham, you’ll never see Arthur again?

The paradox was all too clear to Jeremy. He slowed and stopped, letting his braced leg balance on the horseshoe cleat. Adrian swung himself around to face the handsome young man whose face showed his mental confusion.

            – I don’t know, sir. I don’t know what Arthur wants. We’ve not spoken about the future. No‑one knows what the future will hold. Maybe this is just an affair which will blow over. I don’t know, sir.

            – Alright, Jeremy. I think I understand. When you are with Arthur, is he the one who takes control?

            – Er, yes sir.

            – That’s what I thought. Alright, Jeremy. I get the impression that you are not trying to steal my companion from me.

            – Oh no, sir! I wouldn’t dream of it. We tried very hard to keep it a secret. Arthur said he didn’t want to hurt you.

            – He said that, did he?

            – Yes sir. And we tried. It’s so difficult, sir.

            – Yes, I know it is. Very well, Jeremy. From what you tell me, you are the innocent partner in all this.

I can’t say I’m happy about it, but I do understand. I know Arthur quite well.

Jeremy was silent for the rest of the journey back to Coldwaltham. Adrian crutched to his bed, sat and straightened his peg leg. He handed his crutches to Jeremy.

            – Here you are. Tell him not to break them.

It was a mild joke but it broke any animosity there may have been. Jeremy looked at Adrian and smiled in gratitude. Adrian could see why Arthur was infatuated. Jeremy was beautiful.

            – I’ll bring them back as soon as possible, sir.

He limped out, the cleat beating on the wooden floor. Adrian began to think about how to repair Arthur’s peg leg. Perhaps there were some woodworking tools available.

 

They returned half an hour later. Jeremy carried half a peg leg, Arthur wore the rest. He was definitely a novice on crutches, not trusting enough to swing his body forward at a sensible pace. Adrian was still on his bed, reading.

            – Whew! I’m glad that’s over. I don’t know how you can use crutches all day and not complain.

            – It’s crutches or a wheelchair. Thank you, Jeremy. We shan’t be needing you.

Jeremy and Arthur looked at each other in resignation. Jeremy returned to his end of the dormitory and was lost from view.

            – Take the socket off and let’s have a look. Did you hurt your stump?

            – It got a bit of a jolt. I think it’s alright.

A brief inspection revealed the extent of the damage. The knee mechanism had failed. A piece had dislodged and had been lost, making a repair impossible.

            – The only way I can think to fix this is to slide the two ends into a metal collar of some kind. Ideally you need a new pylon but it’ll have to be rigid.

            – I was worried about that. Oh well, it won’t be the first time. I wonder if Mrs White has any odds and ends in the shed we could use.

            – We’ll ask her next time we see her. Don’t go bothering her now.

Stephen wandered over, having seen and heard some of the problem.

            – Hello. You’re in a bit of a jam, I see. Look, I have a pair of crutches with me which I could lend you for a while.

            – That’s very civil of you. Thank you very much.

            – They’ll probably need adjusting but you can do that, can’t you?

            – Are you going to be able to manage, Stephen? Won’t you need them yourself?

            – I reckon I can get by for a day or two. Wait a minute and I’ll bring them over.

Adrian and Arthur heard Stephen’s prosthetic legs creak as he turned. It was such a familiar sound from the shop. The crutches did need lengthening, easily done.

 

Adrian brought the matter up at lunchtime.

            – Mrs White! I wonder if I might prevail for a moment. You see, my colleague came a cropper this morning and snapped his peg leg in two.

            – Good heavens! How on earth did you do that?

            – I just tripped.

            – Good lord.

            – So I was wondering if there might be something like a length of pipe we might be able to repair it with. And some tools, too, if you have any.

            – Well, there are all kinds of bits and bobs in our shed. I’m afraid I don’t know what all there is there but you are welcome to have a look.

            – That’s very kind of you.

            – Come by a little later and I’ll give you the key.

 

The shed was a treasure trove of off-cuts, tubes, pipes and dowel. A small workbench held a large vice and several hand tools hung neatly from the wall. The late Mr White had obviously been a man with an orderly mind. Adrian sought a length of pipe to brace the peg’s broken ends. There was nothing immediately suitable. He spotted a metal can which had once held tennis balls. It now contained a few screws. If he could remove the base, the sheet metal could be bent to the right size around the peg’s lower section and screwed in place. It might work. Adrian tried to imagine how strong the result would be. If he could find a piece of dowel to compensate for the missing knee mechanism, the metal sheet should hold firm enough for a while, until Arthur could collect his hated artificial leg from Parson’s Green. There was a broomstick handle. He could cut three inches or so off it. He returned to the dormitory to fetch the broken peg leg and dropped in on Mrs White to ask her permission to use the broom handle.

            – Do use whatever you can find, Mr Bell. Help yourself.

            – You’re very kind, Mrs White. Thank you.

 

Adrian slowly removed the base of the metal can with secateurs and split the tube along its seam. The sheet metal was pliable and wide enough to roll around the pylon twice. Once it was screwed into the pylon, it should be sturdy enough. There were about a dozen half-inch screws among the few which the can had contained. They would do. He found some washers and set to work.

 

An hour later, he needed a helping hand. Someone would have to hold the peg leg while it was in the vice. Jeremy could do that and make himself useful. Adrian went back to the dorm to fetch him. He was asleep, taking advantage of the Sunday afternoon quiet. Adrian left him in peace and crutched along to find Arthur playing patience on his bed.

            – Any luck?

            – I need someone to help.

            – You should’ve said.

            – Not you. I need someone with legs.

            – Oh. Ask Jeremy.

            – He’s asleep. Let sleeping dogs lie. Listen, I think this repair will be alright for a week or so but you’re going to need a new peg. And I can’t make one in the present circumstances so I think you’re going to have to get your artificial leg from home.

            – I was thinking about that.

            – So you’d better arrange for a day off and get it before the peg falls apart again.

            – Alright. I’ll do that. Anything else we need from home while I’m there?

            – You could bring your crutches.

            – Yeah. Good idea. I’ll do that too.

            – Good show.

They looked at each other wordlessly, examining each other’s mature, still handsome features. They still loved each other. They knew each other’s foibles and troubles and likes. Now it was all threatened by the vagaries of war. Who could say what the outcome would be? For the time being, Adrian was content to help his old friend and, if all went well, to stand by him.

 

Adrian pegged back to the kitchen in the hope that Mrs White might have some tea in the pot. She was up to her elbows with baking. She kept as much of the flour ration during the week and used it to make fresh bread for Sunday dinner.        

            – Hello, Mr Bell. How are you getting on?

            – I think we’ll be done by teatime. I really need a helping hand but my volunteer is having forty winks so I thought I come and scrounge a cuppa if there’s any going.

            – There might be a drop left, Mr Bell.

Adrian found a teacup and held the strainer over it. There was almost a cupful left, the few tea leaves had stood long enough to darken the tea.

            – May I have a splash of milk, Mrs White?

            – Help yourself.

She patted her dough and placed a tea towel over it.

            – How are things, Mr Bell? I won’t ask if you are happy but are you managing down here?

            – Strange you should ask that today. It has been a most odd day. In fact, a broken peg leg is the least of it. But I’m sure you mean in general. Yes, as far as I can tell, we’re a happy bunch. I’m sure we’d prefer to be at home but we all appreciate your work to make our lives comfortable.

            – Don’t mention it. I’m sure you’re all doing very important work, otherwise they would have sent you home by now.

            – Yes, I expect so. I’m sure you’re right. Well, thank you for the tea.

            – Any time, Mr Bell.

Adrian left, watched by Mrs White who was no longer shocked by the sight of the handsome man with the single black peg leg. She hoped the other gentleman’s could be repaired. Adrian glanced across at Jeremy, who had revived and was rubbing his eyes.

            – Jeremy! I need your assistance in the shed.

Jeremy immediately thought of being lured to his death but put the idea from his mind. Adrian was holding Arthur’s broken peg and needed an extra hand. He lifted his huge black boot to the floor and stood.

            – Very well. Show me how I can help.

Adrian needed to make holes in the sheet metal in order to attach it with screws and someone needed to hold the peg in the vice. Jeremy positioned himself as far away as possible to give Adrian room to work, seemingly anchored by his leg brace and boot. He was impressed by Adrian’s ingenuity and happy to help. There was no mention of the affair or of future plans. It was futile to plan anything. The two men’s co‑operation eased Jeremy’s initial tension and after a couple of hours, as the light began to fade, Adrian pronounced himself satisfied. He loosened the peg from the vice and stood it on the floor. The sheet of metal wrapped around the knee looked a little odd but seemed to serve its purpose. The peg felt rigid and trustworthy.

            – I think we’ve done as much as we can for now. Thank you for your help, Jeremy. Let’s see what Arthur thinks. Will you take it?

Adrian leaned on his crutches and stretched his back. He pegged out of the shed and waited for Jeremy before shutting and locking the door. They went to the dormitory, to Bell & Callahan’s own small corner of it. Arthur was surprised to see them both together. Jeremy handed Arthur the peg leg for inspection.

            – Looks like you’ve done a good job on this, Ade. Let’s give it a try.

He looked around to check that he was not being watched and removed his trousers. He leaned over and took a sock from the bedside cabinet and pulled it over his stump. He stood and pushed into the socket. The peg leg took the strain. He stepped out into the room to test it, watched by everyone else present. He noticed and gave them a thumbs-up. They broke into applause. Adrian laughed.

            – Thank you, squire. As good as new.

            – Glad to hear it but don’t forget what I said, Arthur. That’s a temporary repair. You’ll have to fetch your old tin leg sharpish.

            – I know. I’m not looking forward to it.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Arthur and Jeremy’s affair changed after that day. They never met again for an illicit sexual encounter in the disused barn but Jeremy found himself forging a closer friendship with both Arthur and Adrian. He had stated that it had not been their intention to damage the old friendship and he held his desires for Arthur in check. Arthur arranged a journey one Saturday to Waterloo and thence to Parson’s Green to collect his little used artificial leg and crutches. He called in on Smiffy to hear the latest news. Charlie was at work, driving the seventeen to and from Teddington. He would be back late, too late for Arthur to wait. He would miss his train. Life in London had become a lot more bearable after the nightly air raids had stopped. Food rationing was a problem but it was possible to have a fairly good meal in one of the new British Restaurants. There was one near Oxford Circus where they occasionally went. Smiffy spent his days at home, killing time. He could get out in his wheelchair if he had to but was content to wait for Charlie to push him these days. It was no fun getting old.

 

Arthur walked carefully back to the Underground station and caught a connection to Waterloo. His tin leg still fit his stump with a couple of stump socks. Everyone had lost weight. It was only natural. Fortunately the leather straps on his thigh socket could adjust enough to take up the slack. Actually, it was alright walking on the old tin leg. He would wear it and not complain. Heaven knew when he might be able to get himself a new peg. He heaved himself up with his crutches at Waterloo and made his way to the Southern Railway’s platform. The journey was as tedious as always, the carriage full of military men and officious senior officials in old-fashioned suits looking serious. He had to walk to Coldwaltham from the nearest station, the last mile on crutches as the tin leg began to chafe. Now he remembered why he hated it.

 

– – – – – – -

 

In late June, one such serious official arrived in a chauffeur-driven car and the supervisor called for everyone’s attention. Mr Cholmley-Pratt had arrived from the ministry bearing unpleasant news. He was personally disturbed by having to confront an entire department of disabled men. He had always suffered from a fear of dismemberment after seeing a schoolmate run over by a train near Clapham when he was ten years old and by his father, who had lost both a leg and his left arm in South Africa, who used to beat the boy with his peg leg for the slightest impropriety. He held a sheet of paper in front of him, fighting against his instinct to flee from the sight of crutches and artificial limbs standing around the walls and the expectant gaze of arm amputees whose artificial arms and hooks lay lifeless on the table in front of them. He swallowed and swiped at his eyes.

            – Gentlemen! I have here an instruction from the Ministry of Food which I must regrettably relate to you. The boffins in Whitehall have decided that the collection of information relating to rationing can be undertaken more expeditiously by concentrating efforts in central distribution centres. Although the Ministry has the greatest respect and gratitude for the work you have done here and indeed in similar centres nearby and around the country, we regret to inform you that your contributions will no longer be required from August the first, nineteen forty-one.

            – So you mean we’re getting the sack? We’re free to go?

            – Er, well, no-one is getting sacked, sir, but it does indeed mean that your services here will no longer be required after the first of August.

            – So we’re free to go.

            – Yes sir. You would be free to go.

The room burst into applause and hoots of elation. Mr Cholmley-Pratt and the supervisor exchanged muttered words and left the room. Adrian was more perturbed by the news than most of the others.

            – Well, what do you think of that, Adrian?

            – Oh, hello Derek. I don’t know. It looks like I’ll be out of a job for the first time in my life. It’s only been a couple of months since I closed our company. I haven’t got anything to fall back on, you see.

            – Do you mean your artificial limb company?

            – Yes.

            – I didn’t know you’d closed it down.

            – It seemed to be an unnecessary expense, you see.

            – Yes, I quite understand. Well, I can tell you one thing, Adrian. Roehampton are begging for technicians. I was there a few weeks ago to pick up my new peg and they actually apologised that it had taken so long. Four months to make a peg! Imagine! So I reckon that if you called in offering your services, they’d snap you up in a trice. Just tell them that you’re Adrian Bell of Bell & Callahan and they’ll know right away you’re just the man they need.

            – You sound very sure, Derek. I suppose I could drop them a line, couldn’t I?

 

Adrian discussed the situation with Arthur that evening.

            – Have you given any thought to what to do after July? Do you want to go back to Parson’s Green?

            – Do we have an alternative? I don’t know what else we can do.

            – I was talking to Derek Holmes this morning and he reckons that Roehampton Hospital would take on experienced limb makers. He said they have a serious shortage of technicians. So I’m going to write to them shortly to offer them my services. Are you interested?

            – You’re the expert. They wouldn’t want me.

            – Well, you’re very capable too, Arthur. Don’t put yourself down. Think about it.

            – I don’t need to think about it. When you write, tell them that Bell & Callahan are at their service. And tell them we need accommodation.

            – Oh? Why’s that?

            – They have some new flats built for staff members on the edge of the park, you know, private places. It would be grand to move into a new place.

            – That is very devious of you, Arthur. Hmm. I will do exactly that.

 

Adrian drafted an application over the next few evenings. He explained how he had heard from a recent patient about the shortage of limb makers and his own situation. He briefly described his experience as co‑owner of Bell & Callahan and offered Roehampton their combined services. Finally, he mentioned his interest in renting one of the new private apartments for staff which had been recommended to him, although the availability did not preclude possible employment. He showed the draft to Arthur, who made a couple of suggestions. Adrian went over the application once more, shortening it where possible and executed the final application in his fine copperplate. Three concise paragraphs. He asked Mrs White if she would be kind enough to post the letter when she went shopping and put the matter in the hands of fate.

 

The atmosphere at work changed for the better. With a definite date of cessation made known to everyone, there was a new enthusiasm for entering thousands of figures into ledgers. It was the home stretch with a second wind. One or two of the staff who had been bombed out had misgivings about losing a job when they had no other work immediately available. They were nonplussed about how to continue. Gradually, through word of mouth and the old boy network, everyone who needed employment after the end of July had a job lined up, either immediately or after a period of weeks. Except for Adrian. Derek had been taken on by an accountancy in Epsom with the promise of a furnished bed-sitting room in a semi-detached house nearby, two rooms on the first floor. It meant negotiating the stairs on his single peg, but needs must. He was overjoyed with his luck. Adrian was still waiting to hear from Roehampton, and becoming slightly concerned with the delay. Mrs White had confirmed that same evening that she posted the application. There were only three weeks to the end of July.

 

The weight was lifted from Adrian’s shoulders when Mrs White delivered her guests’ letters when they were seated around the table for dinner on Friday evening. She handed a long thin brown envelope to Adrian. Its typewritten address was unusual. Adrian guessed immediately who the sender was and ripped the envelope open. He had guessed correctly. He read voraciously, delighted more by each successive paragraph. He read to the end and reread it before throwing his head back and letting free a combined laugh and howl of relief. The others looked at him in concern and amusement. Adrian was the most staid and correct of those present and it was extremely unusual for him to draw attention to himself, other than his extrovert use of a single peg leg. He threw the letter across the table to Arthur, saying nothing. He watched Arthur’s face as he read, knowing what he was seeing. He chuckled as Arthur’s expression changed. Arthur read to the end and looked across at Adrian.

 

            – We just need to turn up on the fourth?

            – That’s what it says. And there are two apartments waiting for us on the ground floor.

            – I can’t believe it.

            – Oh, believe it, Arthur. They don’t mess about with things like this, especially as they’ve had six weeks to think about it.

Jeremy, seated a little further down the table, asked what the jollity was about.

            – Well, not to put to fine a point on it, Arthur and I have been offered jobs as makers of artificial limbs at Queen Mary’s Hospital in Roehampton with accommodation on the grounds.

            – Oh, well done! Congratulations! How wonderful! Some people have all the luck!

 

Congratulations echoed around the table. All the amputees knew that Adrian and Arthur had run their own company which had made a reputation for itself over the years. Even Stephen and Peter with their leg braces and built-up boots had heard about Bell & Callahan from their amputee friends. It was the best possible outcome for the two men who insisted on wearing black peg legs proclaiming their disabled status to all and sundry when most men did their very best to disguise their artificial limbs. Jeremy’s ears pricked up when he heard that Arthur would be getting his own accommodation. Jeremy had been promised a job in Gant’s Hill and faced a long, slow journey on two buses from his home in Dagenham, assuming it was still standing. It was better than nothing.

 

– – – – – – -

 

August

 

Both Adrian and Arthur were heartily welcomed to join the team of expert technicians at Roehampton. They were handed the keys to their individual ground floor flats in two separate spanking new three storey blocks on the edge of Richmond Park. They were both identical, comprising a living room, a small kitchen, a large bathroom and a small bedroom with a walk-in closet, which both thought of as a wonderful idea. The kitchens and bathrooms were outfitted bearing a wide spectrum of disabilities in mind. It was perfectly possible to use a wheelchair inside and to access the building without negotiating steps. And best of all, there was central heating, although the radiators were currently cold. Fortunately the summer had been glorious and the views from both flats were verdant and pastoral. Not unlike the environs near Coldwaltham, but at Roehampton there was the opportunity to travel into the capital with little effort.

 

They discussed what to do with the rental property at Cripple’s Corner. Arthur was quite prepared to move to Roehampton but Adrian was a little dubious, not wanting to leave his home of twenty years for a new address which might not prove to be so secure if Bell and Callahan restarted as an independent company after the end of hostilities. In the end, Arthur won the argument and Adrian set about terminating the rent agreement with young Joachim Silverstein, who had inherited the property after his father’s death from stomach cancer in nineteen thirty-five. The removals were undertaken by Pickering’s using one removal van to two adjacent addresses in Roehampton. Smiffy and Charlie were sorry to see them go and promised to keep in touch. Arthur took the large bed, which almost completely filled the bedroom and Adrian took the sofa. He could sleep on it comfortably enough, being almost completely legless.

 

Adrian was by far the most severely disabled of Roehampton’s technicians but his reputation was such that none of his new colleagues had any doubts of his professional prowess. He heard that he could avail himself of prosthetic components if he wished to manufacture new equipment for himself and would be charged only twenty-five percent of the standard cost. Arthur needed a new peg leg but he would need to be treated as a brand new patient. None of his old measurements were accurate or useful any longer.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Three evacuees remained at Coldwaltham in Mrs White’s efficient care. Peter, Edward and Bill bid a gentlemanly farewell when Adrian and Arthur departed for the last time on August the first. Mrs White once again did herself proud by handing the amputees a small packet each wrapped in greaseproof paper. They were, she said conspiratorially, chicken and tomato sandwiches for the trip. No other gesture she could have made would have expressed her respect and admiration better for her two crippled guests. She wished them well, knowing they would never meet again. After watching them strutting down the driveway, she returned to her kitchen and shed gentle tears for so many lost opportunities.

 

– – – – – – -

 

At the end of the month, on another bright Saturday morning, Adrian spotted the unmistakable gait of a familiar figure approaching. He limped past Adrian’s living room window, seeking another address. It was Jeremy. Adrian and Arthur had spent two evenings together during the previous week but no mention had been made of the present visitor. Adrian was surprised and somewhat disappointed. He had assumed, mistakenly it seemed, that the liaison between Arthur and Jeremy was over and consigned to the past. He himself had written a postcard to the Epsom address Derek had given him, mentioning merely that he had received a gratifying welcome and was settling in. He had not had a reply.

 

Arthur was excited to see Jeremy. They had been in regular contact by post for four weeks and this visit was the earliest occasion which found both men with a day of leisure. Arthur almost pulled Jeremy inside and they clasped each other, kissing greedily. They both had insistent erections which they could feel through their trousers. Jeremy threw his jacket on the nearest chair, carefully disengaged his hearing aids and they went into the bedroom and lay on the bed, the tin leg crashing against the steel leg brace and boot.

            – Leave your boot on!

They stripped as quickly as possible, pawing at each other, pushing their trousers and underwear off. Arthur released his tin leg and let it topple to the floor. His stump was what Jeremy had been waiting for. He gripped it, licked it, fondled it and ran his hand up the truncated thigh to Arthur’s handsome penis and tight scrotum. Encumbered by the weight of his leg brace, he tried to twist himself to fellate Arthur but Arthur wanted to fuck and pushed him away, turning him onto his belly. Jeremy’s erection dug into the rough blanket which felt, at this moment, heavenly. While Arthur straddled him with his stump, Jeremy gyrated his cock against the bed and became even more excited. Arthur wiped his cock head around Jeremy’s anus and inserted his tool into Jeremy. In his frantic excitement, it took only seconds before he came. He roared in a mixture of ecstasy and frustration. Jeremy took the opportunity. He rolled away from Arthur, who landed face down on the wide bed. Jeremy forced his braced leg and the enormous boot over Arthur’s leg and stump and mounted him. Jeremy’s dick was narrower but longer than Arthur’s and the sensation of something like a fat finger suddenly seeking entry caused him to clench his anus. Jeremy had seen the trick used before and tickled the puckered skin with his middle finger. The feeling was so pleasing that Arthur relaxed for a moment. Jeremy plunged forcefully into Arthur, who yelled in shock and pain. Jeremy paid no notice but began to finally fuck the man he was determined to have as a partner. He was an accomplished lover, familiar with the rhythm of love-making, knowledgeable of the anatomy his long penis was exploring. Arthur’s shock turned to acceptance and enjoyment. At the age of forty-two, Arthur lost his virginity to Jeremy, whose leg brace was chafing his stump at every thrust. Arthur grunted, all resistance now lost to the young cripple who felt so good. Arthur’s penis had found the precum-soaked area of the blanket where Jeremy’s dick had been. It felt disgusting and wonderful. Jeremy’s cock was massaging his insides, forcing another urgent erection, tightening his balls, and he ejaculated again onto his blanket, lying in his warm mess, enjoying the cool steel of the leg brace against his stump.

 

– – – – – – -

 

The independent life was not completely to Adrian’s taste. He was proud of his new home and had adjusted to being an employee rather than a business owner but he missed the simple presence of another man. He needed company, a simple relationship. The current situation with Arthur living elsewhere and unlikely to forego his equally comfortable home was a conundrum. Seeing Jeremy a couple of hours ago had emphasised the distance between Arthur and himself. It was difficult not to feel hard done by, unreasonable as it probably was. Adrian put his jacket on and left home for a stroll around the park. He often did his best thinking in the fresh air. He could remember the pleasant mornings he often spent in Hyde Park after he returned from hospital, battling on with a single peg leg. It seemed a lifetime ago in a different world.

 

It was disappointing that Derek had not replied to his postcard. Perhaps he had lost the new address. Adrian should write again, a letter this time, including his address. What else? A plea for contact? A call for help? An admission of need? It was ridiculous. If Adrian were honest with himself, all those things applied. He felt himself to be a respectable, honest man, thoughtful and considerate. He had his good points. Why should he condescend to feeling rejected? Yes, he would write to Derek again and invite him to visit Roehampton one Saturday afternoon. He knew Derek was familiar with the route. His peg leg had been manufactured there. There was much to discuss. With his mind clearer, Adrian turned his attention to his surroundings. He had walked quite a way. He looked around him, enjoying the scenery, the full promise of oaks and chestnut trees laden with acorns and conkers. He could see a few red deer grazing further off, lifting their heads between mouthfuls, wary of the distant man. He turned around and pegged back the way he had come, this time with a more determined stride. He imagined Derek beside him, both of them content with their extraordinary single peg legs. Derek was the only other man whom Adrian had ever met who preferred a solitary peg over the alternatives. It was especially unusual because Derek had more stump and could have adopted artificial legs. Perhaps it symbolised that they might have more in common.

 

– – – – – – -

 

Derek was delighted to read Adrian’s letter. He had indeed mislaid the old tram ticket on which he had scrawled Adrian’s new address and not surprisingly, Adrian had not included it on the postcard. Derek knew he could enquire about Adrian the next time he visited Roehampton but with his own sturdy new peg leg and a smart new pair of axillaries, that might be quite a while. And Derek had often thought about Adrian, whom he admired tremendously. He was one of the nicest men he had met and, of course, it was wonderful to know another man who was as determined as he was himself to boast a single peg and crutches. Derek reread the letter while kneading his short right stump which never failed to engender a pleasurable sensation. It would be grand to have someone else do it, who understood. As far as he knew, Adrian had only one stump. The other side was smooth. It would be interesting to see Adrian’s stump to compare it with his own stump and a half. Adrian replied with a postcard, suggesting a meeting one Saturday evening.

 

Roehampton was notoriously difficult to reach from almost all directions. Fortunately, his job was situated only a few hundred yards from the end of the trolleybus route in Sutton, and he could catch another bus in Putney. Derek had spent a whole day retrieving his old invalid carriage from Coldwaltham, hand-cranking the old machine the thirty-odd miles to Epsom. But he had no intention of using it to travel to Roehampton, not on this occasion, especially not after a full day’s work. Despite leaving Sutton shortly after five, it was half past seven when Derek knocked on Adrian’s door.

 

            – Hallo, Adrian. Thank you so much for inviting me and I do apologise for being so late.

            – Not at all. Did you take the train?

            – No, the trolley to Putney but there was almost an hour to wait for the next bus.

            – It’s beastly. Do sit down. Would you like a glass of beer? I managed to persuade the local publican to spare me a few pints.

            – That would be just the ticket. Thank you.

Derek looked around the new flat with its sparse furniture. He was curious to know what the view was like but the black-out curtains were in place. Adrian brought two bottles of beer and two glasses in his leather satchel, which he placed on the table, and lowered himself to a chair. Foam rose in the necks of the bottles when he opened the swing-top.

            – Your good health and welcome to my humble abode.

            – It looks very nice. You must be very happy to live here.

            – I am, of course, but there is one thing missing. As you know, Arthur and I lived together in Parson’s Green for many years. It was a situation we were both comfortable with but now Arthur too has a very similar flat nearby.

            – So you’re neighbours now.

            – We are. The trouble is, I feel lonely without him. And he has found a new friend who has, I fear, rather taken my place.

            – I’m sorry. I have never been fortunate enough to have a companion so I don’t mind being alone but I do understand.

            – I knew you would. I’ve noticed before, Derek, that you and I have much in common. I am not referring merely to our peg legs. There is more, I feel. I am sure.

Derek was confused. Adrian sounded more vulnerable than ever before. He was almost skirting the issue, which, if Derek understood correctly, was one which always had to be approached with the utmost delicacy. If he had misunderstood Adrian’s words and acted on his assumptions, Adrian might well take offence and have him arrested for indecency and worse.

            – I have always wanted to know you better. Our conversations at Coldwaltham were always so brief but I must admit, finding an older gentleman such as yourself who has made a life for himself on a single peg leg was tremendously inspiring for me. I have thought about you very often over the past weeks when we were apart.

            – Did you not have my address?

            – Adrian, I am ashamed to say that I must have misplaced it.

            – Is that why you were silent for so many weeks after we last met?

            – It is. I was so relieved to hear from you again.

Adrian was hinting as much as he dare. The younger man may be naïve and inexperienced. It could be treacherous if Adrian’s words were misunderstood.

            – Well, you are here now and although we have only just sat down, it is rather late and I would hate for you to hurry back to Epsom so soon. May I invite you to spend the night? Do relax and make yourself at home. Is the beer to your taste? I’m afraid I had little choice in what the publican had to offer.

            – It’s very good. Cheers! So I might stay the night? That is very kind of you. I promise not to disturb you.

            – Oh, there is no chance of that, Derek! Now we are together again, I shall savour every moment. Your very good health!

 

The two men had one uniquely specific way to greater intimacy. Both were severely disabled and chose to overcome it in the most minimal and difficult way. Their peg legs were unmistakable signals of like‑mindedness. Both men had chosen slightly thicker shafts, slightly larger than usual ferrules and both glossy black pegs gleamed in the weak light from the standard lamp in the corner. Adrian paused and filled his pipe with some shag he had discovered in a Richmond tobacconist. Derek watched his gestures and the process of lighting the tobacco. The aroma of seaman’s strong pipe tobacco filled the room. Adrian clenched the large billiard between his teeth and looked at his guest. Derek looked back at him with admiration, eagerly willing to do anything Adrian bid him. Adrian was a father figure for Derek, unsurprising since he had grown up fatherless in the East End. Adrian subconsciously promised to fill the absence of love Derek had always yearned for. His own desire to walk on a solitary peg leg symbolised his need to see a very masculine figure full of brave determination in his life, even if he had to experience it himself.

 

            – How are your stumps, Derek? I hope you have not had any discomfort from the new peg?

            – No, none at all. As you know, the right stump is rather short and I have no artificial leg for that side.

            – I was wondering about your shorter stump after something reminded me. It seems odd not to use it to your advantage.

            – Is that because you are missing a stump altogether?

Adrian sucked on his pipe and tilted his head back in thought.

            – Do you know, you may be right. I’d  be interested to see your stump some time, when it is convenient, of course.

            – Oh, I could show you now, if you wish.

            – Of course.

The two men’s eyes met, confirming that now would be a convenient moment to expose a stump and to confirm their doubts, putting conformity aside and launching an intimate new special friendship which could last a lifetime. Derek lowered himself to the floor and set about removing his trousers. His peg leg and its lace-up leather socket were fully exposed together with his right stump, which was almost completely hidden by his underwear. He looked up at Adrian.

            – May I?

            – Please do.

Derek slid his underpants down his peg leg, revealing his four inch stump and his genitals. He had a magnificent erection which stood proud, his foreskin tautly nestled around the gleaming glans. Derek paid it no attention but swung himself around on his hands to face Adrian directly.

            – As you see, it is rather short.

Adrian’s breath came in short bursts. He was fascinated to see a peg leg quite unlike his own and was entranced by the idea of a short rounded thigh stump. Derek was right. It was useless but it would be wonderful to touch. And the erect penis, its mere appearance, spoke volumes. Adrian loosened his trousers and underwear and ordered Derek to pull them off over his peg. He lowered himself to the floor and the two men fell into each other’s arms, kissing and tentatively touching the other’s penis and stumps. The two cripples wrestled for superiority, precum wetting their stumps, Derek burying his face in Adrian’s big beard, almost choking with relief that the man he admired more than any other accepted and admired him. Their game of exploration continued for many minutes until Adrian suggested they go to the bedroom. Derek followed his man. They removed each other’s waistcoats and shirts and naked at last, clasped each other closer, genitals grinding against each other, stumps twitching in remembrance of forgotten movement. Derek turned on his belly as a blatant invitation and Adrian, casting his past away and forging forward into the future, inserted his rigid penis into his new lover, his new life-companion, for the first and most wonderful time.

 

1940