Chapter Text
Richard Hammersmith did not care much for retirement. For the most time his work was easy labor. At least in contrast to that of all his friends. While some of his cousins had been forced to retire out of the coalmines, he lived a good life. The pay was good enough, and he could always retire later.
His dear Marian had wanted him to retire for years. They had talked about moving to Devon, the Lake District or wherever else the trains could take them. But he wasn’t ready yet, but he had considered it once.
In ’38 he had received a bonus. After some gentle nagging from his Wife, they had even taken the time to visit Kent, to see if that could be the right area for them. It hadn’t been, so they decided against it. They were a bit too far away from what they knew, and the Atlantic had called for them for decades.
A week later, the 12th of March, Germany had annexed Austria. What had started as whispers in hallways Richard had never been in, became hushed chatter in the streets he walked daily.
Every day he hoped they could stay away from his line of work. He didn’t want to hear of it. Did not want to see them. It made it more crowded, but also lonelier than before. It made his work harsher and more taxing. He knew Marian already prayed for him as often as she could.
They had started praying harder when Germany annexed Czechoslovakia. The government issued a royal decree where they demanded that all British men between 20 and 22 had to report for army registration.
Richard and Marian had cried when their son’s letter had arrived in the mail. Telling them that Jimmy, his son, and their grandson had to register. He was but 20 years and 19 days when the decree had been issued.
1939 began, and it took mere months before his hopes shattered. What he desired the least had come true. The hard work he wished it never would come to was upon him, and there was no time to shed tears.
It had been with sad eyes Brown had shook his head and whispered. Five of them, and they had to be done before Friday. More would come, so he told Richard to keep working if he finished the first five.
Richard Hammersmith gathered his shovel. It hurt him, but it must hurt Father Brown more than him. Therefore he simply went to work, if his fears came true it would be enough to do.
The five that originally had been requested turned into 13 by Wednesday evening. Thursday morning they realized that Richard needed help and hired a young lad to assist. It was heavy labor. Not so heavy on the body, but heavy on the soul.
Richard never really got used to digging graves.
***
“I pray you weren’t someone’s brother. I nearly lost mine once, and the pain I carried never really went away, despite how he lives and breathes today.”
Richard looked up. He was four feet into the ground currently digging the third grave of the day. Not too far away sat a girl about 10 years old. She sat in front of one of the rather new graves. If Richard remembered correctly, the burial was two weeks ago.
According to father Brown, no one had showed up to the ceremony. He had confided in Richard the day after, saying that he hoped God would forgive him this once for thinking that he appreciated it for the little break it gave him.
Now, there sat a girl there, one that didn’t seem to know the dead fellow at all. It didn’t seem like she wanted to defile the grave. She just sat there in her school uniform, with her bag next to her, chatting to the cross in the ground.
“24 years old. If you had made it for some more months you could’ve been 25. It’s a weird age to be, being halfway to 50 and all. Sue said that’s when she found her first grey hair.”
The little girl snickered, as if she remembered a very funny story. She must have, because she started telling one, and he used that time to start digging again.
Two more feet. He had been six feet below far too much for a man who was still breathing.
“Ed was so rude, can you believe? He told her he had been finding her grey hairs for years, that she had been selectively blind to the color grey. Well, maybe not that rude. I did laugh, I must admit. But we had found loads of grey hairs on Peter too. In addition, his hair started thinning at 20. We might just have very bad genes”
Of course, Richard was not listening. He simply had a smoking break at the same time. They needed breaks, and Father Brown let them have as many as they needed. He called them periods of contemplation and praying. He did not pray too much in his breaks, but he often cracked his back, stretched, and had a cigarette. All in the line of duty of course.
Marian might not like it when he smoked at the cemetery, but she realized he needed it. His smoking picked up when his work did, and as long as he refrained from the bottle his wife was happy. It took money out of their pocket, but as did Marian’s tea parties. Each to their own. It costed a bit more to get one through these troubling times, but it was worth the pennies in his pockets.
“I hope you rest peacefully Thomas. I’ll try to get some flowers for you the next time I come by!”
The girl rose on her feet, grabbed her bag and walked out of the cemetery. She stopped at no other grave and walked out.
As soon as she was out, Richard crushed the butt of his cigarette under his shoe sole. With a little more work, he arrived at his destination. The world didn’t feel too different at six feet, but he made sure to stay there as little as possible. Tempting the devil was not Richard’s cup of tea.
When he proceeded to the next plot he noticed that the grave the little girl had sat by was the only one without planted flowers. The only grave without visitors. It was one of many graves, but it looked lonelier than the others. It had had one visitor now. Richard would make sure to tell Father Brown come tomorrow morning.
***
“Hi there Thomas. I brought some daisies for you.”
It must have been a week since the girl had been by last. The days had started to mesh into a single stream of continuity. A dark stream. Richard’s eye sight was still with him, but he struggled seeing the end of this misery. There was always a new grave.
The girl held some daisies in her hand, and used her hand, and no shovel, to dig a hole in the little flower bed before the cross. Gently the flowers were placed into the ground, and the dirt was patted around them.
Richard watched as she rose back on her feet. Maybe she wasn’t staying as long this time, there might be someone waiting for her. With some quick glances he looked around the area. There were no adults in sight. Just him, the lad, and a little girl in school uniform. She was here all by herself.
“I told Ed about you, and he said he can be your brother in arms, so you’re not so alone anymore. I planted these daisies with you. Maybe they will make you cheer up. You were probably very handsome back before all of this, so I am just going to return some of that to you. You can still be pretty. Both here and in memory. Inside and out.”
That appeared to be all for today, because the girl gave a wave to the grave – Thomas, he corrected himself, and then walked away. She did however not walk out. She headed to another grave.
It had been fresh the last time she had been here, but now it had been patted down, and some green could be spotted in the dirt. There were new names every day, and Richard had done his best to not remember any of them. He feared he would get attached.
“I see your name is Sebastian, it’s rather pretty I think”
She still had some daisies left in her hand, so again she used her hand to dig into the dirt, gently place the flowers there, filling with dirt, and patting it down again. Everything was done with respect and deft hands. It looked like someone who had repeated this action many times. Perhaps a time too many, if all of them were in graveyards.
“I know it must have caused you great pain to end up where you are now, but I hope He has eased all your pain. So that you can be in peace. It’s still raging, but you should be proud of yourself. Peter says that those who survive have lost more than one can lose. Sometimes I think he forgets that people like you don’t have anything left to lose. That’s why you’re here after all.”
Richard had to explain War to his son when the previous war had broken out. He had been too young to be drafted, and for that, Richard thanked the heavens. He had tried to explain to his son what was going on, what war was, but his words fell short. He could never explain and answer their questions. They undoubtedly had questions, but even if he was 60 years old, he still would not know how to answer them. Somehow this girl seemed to have more answers than him, and even fewer questions.
“The battlefields are so crowded. It’s chaotic. But here it’s just as crowded. It just doesn’t feel like it because every inch of the field has a purpose. Now this inch has a purpose of keeping these daisies. I hope you like them”
She rose again and took a look around. When her eyes met Richard’s he nearly dropped his shovel. He expected the gleeful face of a child. Possibly a sad face, but not her face. It held calm sorrow, as if she was grieving, and had been for quite some time. But it did not hold the grief of mothers who lost their sons, or boys who lost their friends.
Her face held great similarity to the face he had seen in paintings time and time again. Queen Victoria had grieved her husband for a long time, and Richard could not help but notice the similarity. Apart from the loss of husband. His eyes surely had to play him a trick, because the girl in the field looked far less like a 10-year-old, then a young woman of 25.
Slowly she approached him, and a smile found its way to her face.
“My name is Lucy”
Richard managed to mutter his name and give a small bow with his head. He kept looking down, feeling like he intruded at his own workplace.
“Thank you, for your work.”
He watched as the pair of feet in front of him turned on their heels, and then started walking off. When he looked up, the girl – Lucy, stood at the gate and gave him a wave.
“I’ll be seeing you Mr. Hammersmith” He returned her wave, and then continued with his work.
***
A couple of weeks later, Lucy returned. Her visits were never following a schedule, but rather seemed to happen when she had time. In her hands she held an abundance of daisies. She must have heard.
Now that he knew what, or perhaps more accurately whom, she was looking for, it was easy to know where she would be. At the closest lonely grave there was a boy named Marcus. An aunt had showed up for his funeral, but also left shortly after.
On top of the dirt there lied a small shovel. It was one of Marian’s old ones. Richard did not hide much from his wife, and the young girl who used her hands to dig in the dirt had not been something he had withheld from her. As soon as she heard it she had located one of her old shovels and told him to let the girl, Lucy, use it.
There it lied, waiting for her. She saw it instantly and looked over at him. A grateful smile shone back to him, and he made a mental note of her face, so he could describe it to his wife over dinner.
While she dug, she spoke to the cross. Her voice as soft and calm as always, but still as sad.
“You’re all brothers in arms, comrades during war. Yet there’s no one here when you come back. I am sorry for not arriving sooner, Marcus. I hope old Mr. Hammersmith keeps you company.”
Richard wouldn’t call it company per say. If it was real quiet, he had started to talk a bit. Introduce himself. Mostly the graves he worked with, had yet to be filled, so it was not often he talked. It felt weird talking to one grave, while digging another.
Marcus on the other hand, he had talked a bit to. When he placed the shovel there he had made sure to let him know that young Lucy had a heart of gold, and that he ought to be grateful to her. Richard would have been if it was him who lied there.
“It is easy to feel like you’re one of many. One of many registered, one of many conscripted, one of many soldiers. One of many fallen”
Lucy rose on her feet and grabbed the shovel. The papers had written about the many who had fallen, and Richard supposed that’s how she knew there were more to visit that day. She waved a goodbye to Marcus and proceeded to the next one, just a few yards away.
“Hi, …Arthur. I will have to be briefer than I’d like. I’m here with some daisies for you.”
It should appear like routine, but it didn’t. As if every time she planted a flower it was like the other time. Yet each time was special. Every flower was managed with respect, and she spoke as if the man in the ground was just a friend she had yet to meet. Richard knew there was much courage in loving someone who could never return that love.
“It’s going to be warmer the next week, so I hope that’s to your liking. Say hi to Him for me”
Then Lucy went on. Theodore, Lawrence, Johnathan and William all were talked to, and all had flowers placed upon their grave.
The air felt more at ease after her visit. As if the souls of the young men had waited for someone to show them some last caring gesture, before they could pass on. Meet at his gates knowing the world below was okay. Kept safe by a young girl whose name was Lucy.
***
Richard never wanted to dig a grave, but he did so nonetheless. For 35 years he had dutifully dug graves as the church had asked of him. This was one grave he could not dig. Father Brown would not have let him should even if he have asked, and thus the lad had been sent to work.
The funeral was modest, and the attendance also so. He and Marian, their Son and some friends. His young boy had been lowered down. Into a hole, six feet into the ground. Down where Richard had been so many times and come back from. Jimmy would never come back. Jimmy would stay there.
As the lad began shuffling dirt over the wooden casket, there was not a dry eye around. Father Brown too struggled with keeping his voice as straight as it should be. Grief was easier on a distance. It hurt when you knew.
It hurt when it was his Jimmy. His young kid, who had laughed and called him Gramps the last time he has seen him. ‘Don’t Worry’ he had said, ‘I never plan to be at your work, gramps’ and that was it. It was a promise Jimmy didn’t keep.
***
Two days later he was sitting in front of Jimmy’s cross. The lad had to work twice as hard the past two days, but had never once complained. He was the strength Richard didn’t have.
He didn’t notice Lucy as she entered. Never registered that she walked over to him and didn’t see the flowers in her hand. First when she spoke, he was dragged out of his misery.
“Your grandpa is crying for you, Jimmy Hammersmith”
Richard had not noticed the tears, or his wet face. He would not know when he had started crying. If he had stopped at all the past days. Perhaps only to sleep.
“I usually only plant daisies for those without visitors, but I can always spare one for you. Richard is my friend, and his tears can water this plant.”
Just like he had seen her do countless times before, she bent forwards, and found a place fitting for a small daisy and its roots. It was placed with so much love and care that Richard started crying even more.
“He loves you so much. No grandparent wants their children to die before them. I am sorry that you have to see this Jimmy, but he needs time. Time to heal. It will not heal completely. But it will heal. He will never stop loving you, and that’s okay. You can rest now, Jimmy.”
Never once did she acknowledge Richard as she spoke, but he did not mind. She was here for his young boy. She was here for Jimmy who had lost his first tooth in his and Marian’s living room. The boy who laughed louder than any of the other kids. He who never understood math.
Lucy sat there, in front of Jimmy’s grave, and became Jimmy’s friend. She let his hand rest on top of Richards, and then went on to the other graves. Giving him room to grieve, and air to breathe. Little by little he would heal.
***
As the years went by, Lucy had visited both frequently and less so. Every time a there had been a big battle she had brought more daisies than usual. Every single flower had been spread around. Not a single cross stood without flowers at it’s bottom.
The first gravse, the one belonging to Thomas, Sebastian, Arthur at the others, had grown fields of daisies, all stemming from the little flowers Lucy had brought so many years ago. Other graves too had small bushes of daisies covering the ground. The little she had left behind, had grown and thrived.
The war had been over for quite some time, but she still dropped by. She still went to school nearby and still took time to drop by with a handful of daisies in her hands.
This week, Richard had finally given in to Marian. He was to retire, and in his pocket, he held two train tickets to Cornwall. They planned to leave in two weeks’ time.
He had told Lucy about his retirement last week. The lad was to take over his responsibilities, so now she would have to befriend him too. She had told him that she was going away for a short while, but that she hoped to be back and see him before he left for Cornwall. She was going with her two brothers, and he had wished her a safe journey.
On Monday this week, Father Brown had told him that three graves had to be dug next to each other, their funeral was on Wednesday, so it left him and the lad ample time.
They had dug three fine graves, and when Wednesday morning came, the funeral was held. It was an odd party, it felt like there was missing quite a variety of people, but Richard didn’t comment. Many families had lost members after the war had ended 4 years ago.
His work day had ended before the funeral had, so he came back the following morning. Two days left of his work. Marian had told him that there had been a terrible train accident some days ago, and he thought nothing of it until he arrived safely at work.
He walked over to the new crosses and looked at them. First lied Peter Pevensie, then lied Edmund Pevensie. Their names all too familiar. At the last gravehis breath hitched.
All the way to the right stood a white cross. With beautiful engravings he read
“Lucy Pevensie
1932-1949
Courage, dear heart”
***
On his second last day of work, he had cried tears for a 17-year-old girl. He had told the lad about Lucy, a girl who had been 10 years old the first time he saw her. Who repeatedly had shown up and comforted those who had no visitors.
On his last day of work, he walked in with Marian in tow. In their hands they held as many daisies as they could hold onto.
They covered the ground around the three crosses in daisies.