Fic: Troubled Times chapter 20

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Title: Troubled Times
Chapter 20
Author: Emerald
Beta : jestana and windysame Thank you very much! I greatly appreciate your work!
Inspiration and Encourager: ironicbees
Rating: Mature.
Disclaimer: Wooster and Jeeves belong to Wodehouse.
Summary: The story deals with the time before, during, and after WWII.
A/N: July 1940

 

 

In July, tea and margarine were rationed, and for the first time I heard a complaint from Mr. Wooster. We were eating breakfast as he read the news, and the newspaper hit his tray with a small thunk.

“They've rationed tea, Jeeves. That's un... un... un... something. I guess this is the last cup of hot and steaming that I'll be seeing for a while.”

“No, sir. I have some that I set aside in case of this event. If you limit yourself to your morning cup, you should be able still enjoy tea at breakfast for another ten months.”

Unable to bear the despondency on his face, I added, “Sir, there is a way to get tea, if you greatly desire it.”

He studied me for a moment before asking, “How?”

“I will simply purchase it from someone. I have already done so once for sugar. I started buying butter and bacon from our neighbours before rationing began. It is easier than standing in long queues in hopes that the item will still be available when my turn arrives. Visiting the neighbours takes less time than going into town and trying to obtain groceries. Nor has it cost us more for the items. I suspect that will different in the case of tea, however, as it is not grown locally. Our tea comes from India, sir. As long as the East India company can get ships to Britain there will be some tea available, and people willing to sell it.”

“Is that legal, Jeeves?”

“No, sir. Trading is acceptable, but paying a higher cost to get extra of an item besides one's rationed amount is not legal. As we commit illegal acts almost every day, it does not trouble me to add more. It was my practice to buy from the neighbours before rationing commenced.”

Mr. Wooster frowned and rubbed his forehead. “There's something wrong with that argument, old fruit.” He ceased eating and thought.

After a few minutes he said, “It's like saying, 'I've robbed a bank so I might as well add murder to my crimes.' Besides we didn't choose to disobey the bally law.”

“I must disagree, sir. I knew the law when I realised that I loved you, and I chose to disobey it.” I wondered how much reflection he had given to these issues before. I had spent many a night thinking about it.

“That's not what I meant. I made the same choice, but I didn't go through life saying, 'I'm going to fall in love with another chappie'. I just love you, and the rummy law be dashed.”

“We did not choose rationing, either. Nor were we asked whether robbing banks should be against the law.”

He sighed. “Are you deliberately making this matter difficult?”

“No, sir. I was just curious to know if you had ever thought about it.”

“Not in the way you mean. I've never forgotten the law because one has to always be careful. What's the penalty for buying illicit tea?”

“Fines or jail time. Perhaps both. I am not concerned about it. I do not intend to get caught.”

“I think we risk enough, Jeeves. I'll survive without tea. I don't mind coffee, sometimes, but I suppose that will be gone soon, too. As we are... as you said committing illegal acts almost every day, I see no reason to add to our list of law-breaking. What you did before rationing you might as well continue. There's no point in going to the store and standing in lines for hours if one doesn't have to. If you are offered tea along with the other items then accept it. Be careful, though, Jeeves. We've been lucky not to get caught all these years. I don't want that luck to change.”

“I do not plan on allowing it to change, sir.”

************

It was in July that the name of the Local Defence Volunteers was changed to Home Guard. We had an exercise that month involving a lighthouse. The idea was to assume that the lighthouse was occupied by the Germans, and we were to re-take it. Unfortunately it had rained heavily before the exercise, and the ground was saturated. We had a long walk to the rendezvous point and another journey through an area of coal mines. Then there was a crawl in and out of ditches and over a waste. We moved across thorns and nettles that grew by the footpath. When we finally reached the lighthouse we were thoroughly soaked, muddy and weary. I doubt Mr. Wooster had ever worked so hard in his entire life.

We returned home, after the exercise. As soon as the door was shut, I rushed Mr. Wooster into a bath. He tactfully did not mention that my own appearance required one, too. I did assure him that I would bathe once he had.

While some towels warmed in front of the fire, I changed into pyjamas. When the towels were warm, I took them to the bathroom. I stood in the doorway, and admired his form despite my exhaustion. My employer was covered with scratches and a few bruises, but knowing how he had earned them, my admiration for him only increased.

An overwhelming sense of pride in him seized me. He had walked long distances, crawled through mud and thorns yet not once had he complained. I also felt reassured that he would manage to live through whatever the future gave us.

I placed a towel on the floor next to him. Taking a cloth, I wetted it with warm water from the sink. Then I came and knelt on the towel.

Mr. Wooster was rather lazily wiping his chest with a sponge, and occasionally pushing the duck around the bathtub. He said, “Jeeves, you don't have to bathe me. I'm not that tired. I know you're eager to get clean yourself.”

“Yes, sir, but if you permit me, I will tend to your abrasions.”

I pressed the cloth to the scrapes, before beginning to gently clean them. Grief seized me, and I kept my head bowed over my task in order to avoid upsetting Mr. Wooster. His body was perfect, and viewing him after a day's work, and seeing the damage broke my heart. My respect and admiration remained, but now it was mingled with sorrow.

Dimly, I heard him say something about how he wasn't in pain. I said, “Yes, sir” in reply, but my thoughts were on my dislike of a world that bestowed scrapes and bruises upon a body not meant for working. Mr. Wooster was still talking, but besides for answering, “Very good, sir,” occasionally, I ignored him, lost in my own misery.

“Reggie, I'm not hurt.”

Startled at the use of my first name, I met his eyes. Mr. Wooster said, “Jolly good! I finally have your attention. What's wrong, old fruit?”

“I do not like your cuts and bruises, sir. You should not have to work, sir.”

“And you should have to work? There is some bally law that makes me different from you?”

“We have discussed the difference in class before, sir.”

Mr. Wooster sighed heavily. “I guess not being able to sir me when we're serving in the Guard has given you a desire to use the word. Yes, we've chatted on this before, and you know I don't give a fig about class. It can go drown itself!” He splashed the duck hard in the water.

“Yes, sir.” I started to mention that we had been happy with our positions in life before the war, but I restrained myself. Mr. Wooster could not help the change of circumstances. He was adjusting well. I did not wish to cause him anguish.

There was a short silence while he pushed the duck in the water. I stood up and stretched. Glancing at me, he said in a low voice, “I want to serve, too. My scratches aren't bothering me. Heffie looks like he got into a battle with a cat and lost, and Bingo has twice as many bruises, but at least we got to serve together for once.

“I'm fine. The thinggummy you need to remember, Jeeves, is that circs. may get worse before they get better, but matters will change. This isn't forever. I'll be happy to go back to not working, once this is all over.”

Taking comfort in his words, I nodded. He was correct; nothing last forever, not even bad times.

My employer said, “When I was a young shrimp, I went after a ball that had rolled in a thorn bush. I got the ball, but I was as scraped up then as I am now. My mother fussed over me, the way you are currently doing. Did your Mum ever do that, Jeeves?”

“No, sir,” I stated firmly. Even as I spoke, a memory came into my mind. “Actually, sir, I do recall one occasion when my mother expressed concern. I had had a minor accident...” I paused, trying to remember. “I believe I had been walking on a low boundary wall, and I fell off onto a gravel pathway. My Mother spent some time worrying over me afterwards.”

Mr. Wooster stood up, and I helped him out of the bathtub. I continued, “I was telling people that I was five, but I was four months shy of my fifth birthday, if I remember correctly.”

Mr. Wooster smiled. “That's my Jeeves.”

I proceeded to dry him, taking care to be especially gentle over the abrasions and bruises. When I had completed this service, I said, “If you will kindly retire to your bedroom, sir, I will treat your injuries.”

Mr. Wooster shifted from one foot to another. “What I'd really like to do, Jeeves, is curl up in your bed and wait for you.”

“That would be very satisfactory, sir. I will bring the iodine to my room.”

“I'm not injured, old chap. A few bruises, a couple of scratches, do not an injury make. You've washed the scrapes good. I hope you don't plan to dab each one with iodine. I'll stink and be painted.”

“I only intend to treat the more serious ones, sir.”

My employer laughed. “I thought so. Well, I guess I'll consider smelling of iodine as part of the rumminess of the times.”

“I shall love you no matter how you smell, but I assure you that it is not my goal to make you smell unpleasant, sir.”

My employer grinned. “Just remember that you're a bit scraped up, too, and I shall demand the iodine once you're finished dousing the old Wooster frame and have bathed.”

“I will not forget, sir. It provides me with an excellent reason to be generous with the iodine when I apply it.”

This statement was greeted with more mirth and teasing.

Later that night, as I was falling asleep with Mr. Wooster in my arms, I realised that despite the trying exercise, we had concluded the day with laughter and love.

Tbc

Comments

[mxdp.livejournal.com]

Oooooh. *squishes them both* I love you guys so much!

Jeeves who still, despite everything, refuses to accept the idea of equal classes (or at least, refuses it for him and his dearest Bertram) and Bertie having to tell him he's not injured... the childhood story, and the tea rumminess...

*siiiighhh*

<3

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you for commenting and sharing your thoughts! Jeeves sees each of these adjustments as a step away from the life they once had; another sign that the times they loved are gone. Bertie will, later, in the story have his own time of mourning for the past, but he adjusts better to the changes, simply because I feel that Bertie had a more cheerful outlook on life than Jeeves did.
I'd hate tea rationing! Writing this story has made me grateful for many things I have in life.
Hugs.

[jestana.livejournal.com]

I still love the chapter. *pets them both* Please continue soon!

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much!

[willdew.livejournal.com]

Read this about three times. -_-;

It's cute to see Bertie becoming class-aware and Jeeves rankling over it. It's a neat little idiosynchratic chemistry you've created, where for intellectual reasons Jeeves feels irritated by the laws re:sodomy enough to rail against the government and the church but still insists on addressing his lover by title and wishes Bertie wasn't working. In the meantime, Bertie's far more accepting and open-minded... due to the fact that he has the ability to reconcile things in his own private manner (as his easy-going nature allows.) Hence his desire to go to church and pray, to avoid breaking the law re: rations, etc.

I hope that is somehow constructive. I could just mimic flailing my arms about and spew out a string of words like "mmm gah they are cute and old and cute!!!!" and demonstrate just how reading this fic has effectively turned my brains to mush, but I doubt that would be quite as rewarding.... 9_9

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much! It makes me happy to know that it was worth reading three times!

I'm glad my writing of Jeeves shows him as a complex, in-depth character. And like most people he wants progress, but only progress he is comfortable with. I'm also happy that Bertie's easier nature shows.

It is constructive. It helps me to be given thoughts on a chapter, and influences how I write the next chapters. I appreciate your comments a lot!

[sige-vic.livejournal.com]

*As we commit illegal acts almost every day, it does not trouble me to add more*
I like Jeeves' logic :-) And also it sounds almost like a joke (though a very dark one, of course).
And I like Bertie calling Jeeves by his first name! :-)
Warm and touching chapter, thank you!

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you for commenting and letting me know what you especially liked! Jeeves gives high priority to Bertie's need and comforts. I'm glad you liked this chapter!

[ironicbees.livejournal.com]

I totally sympathize with Bertie worrying about not having tea anymore. I need my daily cup or three, too!

It's interesting how Jeeves is still so fixated on class differences, despite being romantically involved with an upper-class gentleman.

I loved the whole bath part, and the teasing about the iodine. :)

[emeraldreeve.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the reply and letting me know what you liked! I feel for Bertie. too. I drink tea often, also. Jeeves is mourning the life/time they lost.