The Other Side of the Bridge by Mary Lawson

Author:Mary Lawson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 0440336376
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2006-09-25T22:00:00+00:00

August 1942. Otto and Gertie Luntz received two telegrams in one day.

Arthur’s mother was beside herself. “How can I face Gertie?” she said, fiercely brushing away the tears she felt she had no right to shed. “What can I say to her? What can I possibly say?”

Arthur’s stomach had gone cold when he heard the news and he was ashamed of his relief when it turned out that Carl was okay, it was Eric and Gunter who had been killed. Fighting for Canada, the home of their birth. They’d finally left England, all the boys from Struan together, as part of the Royal Regiment of Canada assault force. They landed on the beach at the German-held port of Dieppe and Gunter and Eric were killed the moment they set foot on the ground. They were not the only casualties, by any means. Nearly half the households in Struan got a telegram that day, and many others across the country. The papers were full of it. COURAGE UNDER FIRE! VALUABLE LESSONS LEARNED. OUR GLORIOUS BOYS!

The following day the Luntzes received another telegram, informing them that Carl was missing. The day after that a fourth arrived, saying that he was dead.

Arthur’s mother, now beyond tears, went over to the farm again. There was smoke coming from behind the barn so she went to check on it before going into the house. Otto was there. He had made a big pile of driftwood sticks and was burning them. He didn’t look around as she approached. She said, “Otto?” and then realized that the sticks were not just sticks but the antlers Carl had spent his childhood carving. Her horror was so great that she could not speak. She turned and went home, out to the fields, and found her husband and dragged him back to the Luntzes’ farm, to stand beside Otto and help him watch the antlers burn. Then she went into the farmhouse to look for Gertie. She found her sitting in a kitchen full of smoke—a rhubarb pie was burning in the oven; she must have put it in just before the final telegram arrived. Arthur’s mother took the blackened pie out of the oven, put it outside the back door, and then sat down beside Gertie, who looked at her without recognition and said, “Tell them.”

“Tell them what, Gertie?” she said fearfully, her voice a whisper.

“Tell them no more telegrams. I don’t vant more telegrams.”

“No,” Arthur’s mother said. “No, Gertie. There will be no more telegrams.”

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