Chapter Fifteen

1941-42

The raids carried on, one town after another was hit, then the Luftwaffe came back to London again. The House of Commons was destroyed, but St Paul’s remained still proudly standing, a symbol of hope.

On 10 May Amy spent the night in the tube station. When she came out in the morning the roads of Notting Hill Gate were covered in broken glass, and shrapnel from the shells lay in the gutter, still hot to the touch. She made her way home, bathed and changed and went to her morning clinic. She visited some of her old ladies. Some of them, to her surprise and delight, had resurrected themselves and were happily helping in the WVS or the food offices or the clothing-exchange shops. Give them something to do, she thought, make them feel needed, and they come alive again. It shouldn’t take a war.

 

‘How are we supposed to exist on this?’ Amy was looking at the week’s rations spread out on the kitchen table. ‘Two ounces of butter each, two ounces of cheese, four ounces of bacon, one egg, one pound of meat, eight ounces of sugar. Not much else. What are we supposed to eat?’

‘It isn’t going to get any better,’ Dan said. ‘We manage, don’t we?’

‘Nora does. I don’t know how she does it.’

‘We haven’t had Woolton Pie yet,’ Dan said. ‘Whatever that may be.’

‘It’s a vegetable pie. The recipe was on Kitchen Front on the wireless, but I think you just put in anything you’ve got.’

‘Strangely enough,’ he said, ‘rationing has its advantages. We’ve had the Ministry figures in. Do you know that heart attacks have decreased, even through the Blitz? It must be because people aren’t eating so much fat – more fruit and vegetables.’

‘As long as we still get them.’ Amy sighed. ‘I wonder whether we’ll ever see an orange or a lemon or a banana again.’

He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. ‘One day. At least the Blitz has eased off and we can sleep most nights.’

‘I don’t think Nora sleeps at night,’ Amy said. ‘Not with Jim at sea. They’re still attacking the shipping.’

‘We’ve been very lucky,’ he said. ‘We’ll just have to put up with the shortages of everything.’

‘It infuriates me to think of Germany with the whole of Europe to steal from.’

‘We’ll get there,’ he said. ‘We’ve beaten them in the air. We’re going to win. Bananas shall rise again.’

She caught his eye and began to laugh. ‘You have a very naughty mind.’

 

At school Sara began to do science in earnest, separate chemistry, physics and biology, getting ready for her School Certificate exam. She had to choose her subjects. Teachers were in such short supply that some subjects had to be dropped. History or chemistry? No contest. Geography or physics? No contest. Latin or needlework? She just laughed. For the first time she told her form mistress what she wanted to do. She was asked to see Miss Jenkins, the headmistress.

‘Medicine, Sara?’ she said. ‘We don’t have many girls doing that. What does your father do?’

‘He’s a carpenter,’ Sara said, ‘when there isn’t a war on. He’s in the Navy now.’

‘It’s a long training,’ Miss Jenkins said, ’and it’s very difficult for girls to get in at all. There aren’t many places for women. And it’s very expensive. You’d have to get a scholarship. You’ll have to work very hard.’

‘I know. I like it.’

‘In that case we’ll help you all we can.’

‘That’s if we win the war,’ Sara said.

Miss Jenkins smiled. ‘Oh, we’ll win. You can count on that.’ She sighed as Sara left her. It was difficult enough for girls, she thought, without a war to worry about. It was especially difficult for girls from working-class homes. She saw so many – bright, intelligent girls who never made it to university. Such a waste. Perhaps things would change after the war, which, of course, we were going to win. She sighed again. Everything was after the war.

Sara went back to her classroom, feeling elated. The headmistress hadn’t told her it was a mad idea, and the raids weren’t as bad. It was funny, she thought, how you got used to them. She even managed to sleep through the din most nights. It didn’t make any difference, really. Everything went on as usual. She wasn’t going to change her mind.

 

Charlie burst into the mess, the letter in his hand. ‘Guess what, chaps,’ he shouted. ‘Good news. Arthur’s alive.’

They gathered around him. ‘What? Where?’

‘I expect the CO will be informed but I’ve got a letter from his father. He was shot down over the Channel, picked up by a French fishing boat and hidden by the Resistance. He’s been on the run all this time, trying to get back home, but they caught him in the end. He’s a prisoner, alive and well.’ They raised a cheer and sank a further round of beers.

Charlie sat down and read the letter again. His mother always said he was alive, Arthur’s father wrote. She said she’d know if he was dead. Charlie wondered what he’d been through when they caught him. What had the Gestapo done to him? There were hideous rumours trickling out from Germany. He was lucky not to have been shot as a spy. But he was alive and one day he would come home again. His mother could make her pastry in peace. He wondered what it was like in a German prison camp. Were they civilized and decent? Arthur had done his fighting. How would that feel? Relieved? Would he, Charlie, be relieved? Hell, no. Give me a Spit, he thought, and a chance to get back at the bastards.

 

The year wore on, privation upon privation, even clothes were rationed. Everything was beginning to look grey and shabby. It was difficult to get anything, Amy thought, to cheer yourself up a bit, even a lipstick or a little bottle of perfume. There was a rush on at Woolworths because there was a rumour they’d got some face powder in. The raids had eased, but ordinary life became more and more difficult.

 

Tessa started her clinical training in London and found herself on the wards for the first time. She persuaded her parents to let her share a flat near the hospital with two other girls.

‘If I live at home, Dad,’ she said, ‘I’ll miss all the fun. It’ll be just like being back at school, coming home every night. Anyway, I need to be near the hospital. We’ll have work to do at night, and I expect I’ll still be fire-watching.’

They gave in in the end. ‘I can see her point,’ Amy said. ‘She’s not a child any more – she’s twenty-one. And the bombing seems to have petered out.’

Tessa whispered in her ear, ‘Thanks Mum.’

Amy smiled at her. Don’t think I don’t know the other reason, she thought. Much easier to be alone with Tim there. And why not? Why not get as much fun as possible? The war was a long way from over.

She had thought about having a talk with Tessa about the responsibilities and anxieties she was about to face in clinical training, but she almost laughed at herself. Tessa had faced these things already. She had seen suffering and pain. You could hardly live in a British city and not see that. Tim had told them about the Café de Paris, and fire-watching had been no picnic. Neither of them had commented on the night they spent together. So what, she thought. Life was contracted now. You took each day at a time. You took joy where you could.

She wondered when Charlie would get a girl he was really keen on. He seemed to have occasional girlfriends, but nothing serious. In fact he said as much. ‘Nothing serious, Mum, not with what’s going on. I wouldn’t want to have a wife and children and not be there to look after them.’ God knows, she could understand that. But one day, she thought, it’ll bowl him over. Charlie was like that.

 

Into December, and on Sunday the seventh they heard the astounding news that the Japanese, without any warning, had attacked the American fleet at Pearl Harbor. The Americans and the British declared war on Japan and the Germans and Italians declared war on America. ‘That’s it then,’ Dan said. ‘It’s global now. It’s a real world war – everybody everywhere killing each other. What have we all done to deserve this?’ He smiled. ‘But America is with us now, Amy, with all their riches and their power. The Japs must be out of their minds, crazy, like Hitler attacking Russia.’

But the news was dire. The enemy seemed to be unstoppable. By December the Germans were at the gates of Moscow. Then came the news that two great warships, the Repulse, and the Prince of Wales, had been sunk by the Japanese. Amy had an awful feeling. She didn’t know which ship Nora’s husband was on; she doubted if even Nora knew, but she had an awful feeling.

She knew what Nora was going to say as she stepped through the door. She was pale as a ghost, white with shock, trembling. Amy brought her into the sitting room and sat beside her on the settee. She took her hand. ‘Oh Nora,’ she said. Nora burst into tears. Amy put her arms around her and held her against her shoulder and rocked her like a child. She waited until the storm of sobbing had died away and Nora was resting against her, her body shaking. ‘Is it Jim?’ she asked gently.

Nora sat up, sitting with her head bent, her hands clenched. ‘His ship went down,’ she whispered. ‘They didn’t find him among the survivors.’

‘Is there any chance he might have been picked up by someone else?’

‘The Japanese? No. The War Office says he’s dead.’

Amy held on to her hand. ‘How dreadful. Does Sara know?’

Nora shook her head. ‘No. The telegram came just after she’d gone to school.’ She began to cry again. ‘I don’t know how to tell her.’

‘We’d better go and get her,’ Amy said. ‘I haven’t got a surgery this morning. I’ll come with you.’

She put Nora into the car and they drove to the school. They asked to see the headmistress urgently.

Miss Jenkins’s eyes filled with tears. ‘It’s the second time this week. Another father has been killed.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘Keep Sara at home for a day or two if you wish, Mrs Lewis, but not for too long. It’s better for her to keep going. She’s such a bright, clever girl.’ She sent for Sara.

As gently as she could, Nora told her. Sara flung herself into her mother’s arms and for a few moments they clung to each other, Sara sobbing on her mother’s shoulder.

‘I’ll take you home,’ Amy said. She took them to their house, went in with them and made some tea. ‘Do you want to take a few days off, Nora?’ she said gently. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

Nora shook her head. ‘Thank you, but what can anyone do?’

‘Would you like me to stay?’

‘No.’ Nora took Sara’s hand. ‘We’re best on our own for a bit.’

Amy got up. ‘If you want anything, anything at all, just telephone, and I’ll come.’

Nora nodded. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

She arrived as usual the next day. ‘Sara went back to school,’ she said. ‘It’s best. She’s very upset but it’s best keeping her mind occupied.’

Amy could find no words of comfort. What can I say, she thought, that isn’t trite and meaningless. She remembered all too well the pain of losing those she loved in the last war. There was no explanation, no reassurance, no degree of patriotism that could ease that pain. She lived in daily dread of losing Charlie.

Nora began to cry. Amy put her arms around her. ‘You must think of Sara now,’ she said. ‘She’s a fine girl. She’ll make you proud.’

Nora dried her eyes on her handkerchief. ‘That child is going to get what she wants,’ she said. ‘Her father didn’t die for nothing. I’ll see to that.’

 

Charlie came home on a twelve-hour pass. Amy met him at the door. ‘Bad news, darling. Nora’s lost her husband. He was killed at sea. She’s upstairs. Sara’s here too.’

‘Oh no!’ Charlie was brought back again into the world of loss. He’d lost so many friends, and then he’d had the surprise and pleasure of Arthur’s unexpected return. Life in the north in the Depression must have been an absolute nightmare. Arthur’s return from the dead seemed like a well-deserved miracle. ‘Is there no chance?’ he said. ‘Arthur came back after months of everybody thinking he was dead.’

‘He was at sea, Charlie. There’s no way of coming back from that.’

He tried to blot out of his mind the pilots who had come down in the Channel, shot up, drowned. He sought out Nora, who was hoovering the bedrooms. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Charlie,’ she said, ‘but I’m not the only one, am I?’

‘No.’ He paused. ‘But it doesn’t help much, does it?’

‘No. It’s Sara I’m worried about. Children losing their fathers.’

He found Sara at the kitchen table, doing her homework. ‘I’m very sorry about your father,’ he said. He sat down beside her. ‘I’ve lost a lot of friends. I know it’s not the same, but I know how you feel.’

She looked as if she were about to say something, but then she began to cry. He put an arm around her, awkwardly. She leant against his shoulder and cried. He could feel her slight body shaking with her sobs. He patted her, trying to comfort her. He felt his own tears rising, tears for the loss of so many men he had known, tears for the strangeness he sometimes felt for his own survival, for the whole hideous, sorry mess.

Amy came into the kitchen. He looked up at her, distressed and helpless and gave a little shrug. She took Sara’s hand and led her away to her mother.

He pulled himself together. No use being sentimental. But not for me, he thought. I’m not going to marry and then leave behind a sobbing mother and child.

Amy came back. ‘Are you all right?’ she said.

He nodded, ‘Yes.’ He looked out of the window where the lawns and the flower-beds had gone and the winter frost shone on the vegetable plots that were empty now, waiting for the spring. He felt exhausted, physically and mentally. An exhaustion of the spirit. No good feeling like that, he thought. There was still a job to be done. Would it ever end? He turned back to his mother. ‘How about a sherry before lunch?’

 

It was Christmas again and very cold. Charlie and Tessa and Tim came to lunch at home, to laughter and love. And then it was into 1942. The enemy seemed unstoppable; the Germans had been at the gates of Moscow for weeks and at the end of January came the shock of the surrender of Singapore to the Japanese, with 60,000 British soldiers taken prisoner.

In May the RAF sent hundreds of Lancaster bombers to bomb Cologne.

‘I’m not sure I agree with this,’ Dan said, ‘bombing civilians. We don’t have to do it, just because they do.’

‘Yes we do,’ Nora said. ‘Serve them right. Give them a taste of their own medicine. They started it. They should suffer it, like we have.’

Dan smiled, a wry smile. ‘It’s true what they say, Nora. The female of the species is more deadly than the male.’

Then the Germans began to bomb British cities known only for their history and beauty: Canterbury, Exeter, Bath and York. ‘Sheer wickedness,’ Dan said. ‘Those lovely towns have no strategic importance. If they think that’s going to make us give up they’ve another think coming.’

‘What did I tell you?’ Nora said.

 

‘If I’d known they were going to put clothes on ration last year,’ Tessa said, ‘I’d have bought a few more things. I’m running out of coupons. My underclothes are falling apart – the lace is coming off everything, and I need a new coat.’

‘Lace curtains,’ Nora said.

‘What?’

‘Old lace curtains,’ Nora said, ‘if your mother’s got any. I could take a bit off and use it for lace.’

‘Can you?’ Tessa said. ‘Where did you get that idea?’

‘The Ministry of Information booklet, Make Do and Mend, featuring Mrs Sew and Sew. All sorts of tips. I’ve made Sara a dress out of one of mine. She’s nearly as tall as me anyway, but she’s a lot thinner.’

‘Can you sew?’ Amy asked.

‘Oh yes.’ Nora was making dried egg omelettes for lunch. ‘You have to be able to do everything where I come from. I’ve got a nice Singer sewing-machine.’ She paused and her voice trembled. ‘Jim bought it for me.’ She dished up the omelettes. ‘Some of those sheets need turning. Charlie put his foot through one of them last time he slept here. We’ll never get new ones. We should turn the edges to the middle.’

‘Nora,’ Amy said, ’you are amazing. Is there anything you can’t do?’

Nora grinned. ‘Not much. I’ll do the sheets for you if you like.’

‘Would you?’ Amy said. ‘If you have time. I’ll pay you to do some sewing – only if you have time.’

‘I’ll have time. I’ve got the evenings. The sheets won’t take long.’

‘I don’t suppose you can magic a new coat,’ Tessa laughed, ‘out of old net curtains.’

‘No,’ Nora said, quite seriously, ‘but I could make you one out of that nice grey blanket in the airing cupboard. Nobody seems to use it.’

‘Could you really?’ Tessa looked amazed. ‘That’s fantastic.’

‘You go and buy a paper pattern,’ Nora said, ‘and I’ll make it.’

‘Fantastic,’ Tessa said again. ‘Thank you so much, Nora.’ She got up. ‘I’ll have to get back to the flat now, Mum. I’m going out tonight.’

‘Tim?’

‘Of course.’

‘Anywhere nice?’

‘We’ll try to find a nice quiet place to have dinner on our own. It’s getting quite difficult. The West End’s a madhouse – soldiers from everywhere looking for fun. And hundreds of American GIs.’ She laughed. ‘The war’s certainly cheered everything up. I just wish I could have some new clothes.’ She kissed her mother’s cheek and bounced out of the house.

Amy sighed. ‘Isn’t it awful,’ she said. ‘All this scrimping and saving. In some ways it’s harder to bear than the Blitz. Our girls should be able to have a few pretty things. It’s part of being young. They can’t even get silk stockings. They have to paint their legs with something or other and draw a line down the back.’

‘I can remember my first dance dress,’ Nora said. ‘I made it myself. It was blue with a sweetheart neckline. Times were bad then. I made it out of a bedspread. I thought it was wonderful.’

Amy smiled. ‘I expect it was.’ She paused. ‘It must have been bad, Nora, in the slump.’

‘It was. Very bad. In some ways we’re better off now. At least everybody’s got a job.’

‘It shouldn’t have to take a war. We’ll have to make a better world, afterwards.’

‘That’s what they said last time, so I won’t hold my breath.’ Nora picked up a pan. ‘We need a new saucepan. This one’s got a hole in it.’

‘I’ve no idea where we’re going to get one,’ Amy said. ‘I wish we hadn’t given those others to make Spitfires. It seemed the right thing to do at the time. We didn’t know how bad it was going to get.’

‘I expect it was,’ Nora said. ‘We wouldn’t want Charlie to be flying some old crock, would we?’

Amy laughed. ‘Dear me, no.’ She looked at Nora, whose head was bent over the saucepan. ‘Are you all right, Nora?’

Nora bit her lip. ‘Most of the time. I just wish Jim was going to be here to see Sara grow up. It’s not right. It’s cruel.’

Amy put her arm around her shoulders. ‘I know. I know.’

 

In November the news came that General Montgomery and the Eighth Army had defeated the Germans at El Alamein. They were in full retreat.

‘Where’s that?’ Sara asked. She and Nora looked it up on an atlas at Amy’s house.

‘North Africa.’ Nora said. ‘Very close to the Suez Canal. We need the Suez Canal. We get a lot of our supplies through there. Anyway, it’s the first time we’ve given them what for.’

There was a new feeling in the air. ‘It feels as if we’ve turned a corner,’ Dan said, ‘and the Americans got the Japs at Midway. It’s beginning to happen, Amy.’

 

In December 1942 Dan came home one day from work. He knocked the snow from his shoes at the door. ‘I’ve got one,’ he said.’ He handed the booklet to Amy. ‘The Beveridge Report. I had a struggle to get one, there was a queue.’

She laughed. ‘Isn’t there always?’

They read it together. ‘It’s fantastic, Dan.’ She put the heavy booklet down. ‘A new deal for everybody. I like the way he’s described the five social giant evils: Want, Disease, Ignorance, Squalor and Idleness. It’s the children who are mainly affected – the state some of those evacuees were in, like that little girl Mrs Parks got, half-starved, filthy, head fill of nits. Some of them didn’t know how to use a lavatory. It’s a national disgrace.’

‘It seems to cover everything,’ Dan said, ‘and what do you think of the best thing?’

They both smiled. ‘A National Health Service,’ Amy said, ‘free to everyone. When you think of the things we see that people struggle on with because they can’t afford the treatment….’

‘I know,’ Dan said. ‘I’ll probably spend the rest of my life doing hernias and all the truss companies will go out of business.’

Amy laughed. ‘Nothing wrong with that.’

‘I don’t think it can possibly happen until after the war,’ Dan said, ‘but what a world to look forward to. It’ll put new life into everybody. Now I know we’ll win.’

 

The squadron took off to new battles; now the RAF flew to France to attack and harass the enemy on their own ground. They attacked airfields or trains or barges, anything that looked useful, or tempted the enemy fighters up to waste themselves in useless fights. ‘rhubarbs’, they called those raids. Or they flew on ‘circuses’, escorting bombers on raids to French targets. None of the pilots liked these much, having to fly at the slower speeds of the bombers.

As they approached the French coast Charlie felt more apprehensive than usual. If he was shot down over England and baled out he could look forward to a cup of tea or a whisky and a lift back to the airfield. If he was shot down over France it was a prison camp, if he wasn’t just shot out of hand. They flew on, expecting trouble. It came, of course. The Me109s appeared above them and once again he found himself in a whirling nightmare of wings and tracer bullets.

He began to feel as if he wasn’t in an aircraft at all, as if he were flying free, surviving, watching the fight from the outside. He shook himself. This dreamlike state was the quickest way to dusty death. He watched a bomber go down, the parachutes blossoming. Then he saw a Spitfire, trailing smoke, spinning and spinning. He was struck with shock. He knew the aircraft. ‘Get out, Tim,’ he shouted, knowing it was useless. ‘Get out,’ but the Spitfire spun and spun and then came out of the spin and flew into a hillock.

 

‘Charlie!’ Amy threw her arms around him. ‘How lovely. What a surprise.’ She led him into the sitting room. For a few moments she didn’t notice his silence, the pain in his face. She realized suddenly that he was staring at her, his face twisted and agonized. ‘Darling,’ she said. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

‘Where’s Tessa?’ he said.

Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No. He’s not dead?’ She sat down on the sofa, searching his face. He sat down beside her and took her hand. His eyes filled. ‘When?’ she said.

‘Early this morning. We were attacking targets in France. We were set on by 109s – too many. We lost two pilots. The rest of us were lucky to get away.’

‘Are you sure?’ Amy said. ‘Couldn’t he have baled out? Couldn’t he be alive, taken prisoner?’

He shook his head. ‘I saw him go down. He didn’t get out.’ Amy began to cry. ‘I don’t know how to tell her,’ he said.

‘I’ll tell her,’ Amy said. ‘It’s better if I do it. She’s shopping. She stayed here last night. She’s coming back soon.’

Charlie stood up and stared out of the window. I’m glad I haven’t got a girl, he thought. He couldn’t imagine how Tessa was going to bear this. He wasn’t sure how he was going to bear it. Tim had been his best friend.

He heard the front door open and Tessa’s eager voice, ‘Hello, anyone about?’ His mother left the room. He heard her voice, ‘Come here, darling, into the kitchen.’ Then silence.

Tessa sat beside her mother at the kitchen table, utterly stricken, her face white as parchment, too horrified to cry. ‘I don’t want him to be dead,’ she said. ‘We were going to be married.’ She put her head in her hands. ‘I might just as well be dead too.’

‘Don’t, darling,’ Amy said. ‘Tim wouldn’t want you to feel this way. He’d want you to go on with your life. He’d want you to be brave and remember him with joy and love.’

‘We were going to be married,’ she said again.

‘Listen,’ Amy said, ‘while I tell you something. In the last war I fell in love too, with a pilot in the Flying Corps. He was killed, Tessa, shot down by a German.’

Tessa raised her head and looked at her. ‘You never said.’

‘I didn’t know how to go on,’ Amy said, ‘but I had a job to do, to help the others as much as I could, to keep going, not to break. That’s what they want, darling, to wear us down, to break us.’

‘Dad?’ Tessa said.

‘I fell in love with Dad later, and I love him just as much. He knew about Johnny, my pilot. I’ll never forget him, but life goes on, darling. And time heals. I know you don’t believe it now, but it does. It does.’

Tessa began to cry. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You’re doing your clinical training,’ Amy said. ‘You’re going to meet pain and loss and you’re going to have to help your patients through it. Love is never wasted, darling. My father said that to me at the time, and he was right. This pain now will help you to understand.’

‘I’ll never understand,’ Tessa said. ‘Why? Why do people do this to each other? What’s it all for?’

‘I don’t know the answer.’ Amy took her daughter in her arms, their tears mingling. ‘We’re all here to love you and look after you. You’ll never be alone, darling.’