Thick black material covered the large sash window. Candles were lit strategically around the dining room. The silence was deafening. Sarah stood up and placed the first record she could find on the gramophone. Placing the arm of the needle on the edge, she turned the handle several times before it crackled into life. She breathed a sigh of relief as one of the familiar Irving Berlin tunes burst from the trumpet speaker. It was Christmas Day, but there was no celebration. Sarah had only decided to decorate the tree the night before. She told herself everything had to be as expected, in case her boys walked through the door. The girls hadn't wanted to exchange gifts; it hadn't felt right with no news of their brothers or Freddie. Victoria and Daisy sat with Lily, Arthur being a good distraction for everyone. No one spoke of the war, or the boys that were away from home.
Victoria's attention kept being drawn to Alice, wondering how she was really coping. She’d always be grateful that Ted and Stephen both wrote to her regularly and she felt immense relief that no one asked her about either of them.
‘That was a lovely lunch,’ Edward offered, before sipping his coffee. ‘I don't think I shall eat for a week.’ He patted his stomach. ‘You did well, Sarah, with some food in such short supply, especially sugar and eggs.’
Jane nodded. ‘We’ve practically given up sugar.’
‘We’re the same. What little we have been able to get, we’ve been storing for today's meal, but it's probably still better than the boys on the front are eating.’ Sarah picked up the heavy teapot, to pour the dark steaming liquid into the waiting cups.
‘There's no doubt about that.’ Edward reached for a crumb of plum pudding. ‘I don't know why I'm still eating,’ he chuckled as he popped it into his mouth.
‘The way the Germans are bombing our merchant ships, we will soon run out of food supplies.’ Luke sighed. ‘If you ask me, we need to go back to basics and start growing our own food again.’
Alice stared at her father, wondering what was going on inside his head. He had been subdued all day. Was he finally realising he may not see his sons again?
Edward nodded. ‘Well, it was all very nice. I particularly enjoyed the oyster soufflé.’
‘It was very tasty, although it has to be said that even oysters are in short supply now.’ Luke sipped the tea that Sarah had placed in front of him.
Edward opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again. He looked across the table at Sarah. ‘I don't think we will leave very late, with the streets being so dark.’ He looked sideways at Jane, before returning to his daughter. ‘Your old step-mother gets a little scared these days,’ he chuckled into his cup.
Jane nudged him with her elbow. ‘Hah, I think you'll find we both get a little frightened. It's amazing how dark it is when there’s no light coming from the houses you walk past.’
Alice smiled at the pair of them. ‘Grandpa, you are funny.’
Edward smiled. ‘I’m very glad you think so.’
Alice shook her head. ‘I can't get used to all that hair under your nose; I'm not sure I like the moustache.’
Edward lifted his fingers to smooth it flat. ‘My father had one that was described as a large handlebar; he used to constantly tweak it at the ends.’
Sarah laughed. ‘That's right, he did. Uncle Henry was always telling him off for not getting rid of it, but I remember him saying the ladies liked it because it tickled.’
Alice smiled. ‘Is that what you’re doing, growing a handlebar moustache?’
‘No, I'll probably shave it off in the summer. I just fancied a change.’ Edward smiled. ‘How are you getting on with this delightful baby of yours?’
‘He's an angel.’
‘He certainly seems to be coming on a treat, doesn't he?’
Alice laughed. ‘He is, and he weighs a ton now, not literally, but you know what I mean. He’s all that keeps me going, some days.’
Edward frowned. ‘I know it's difficult for you, but hopefully, Freddie will be home soon and you’ll be united as a family and start your lives together properly.’
Alice nodded. She could feel the tears pricking her eyes.
Jane leant forward in her chair. ‘I don't remember seeing the announcement of his birth in the papers.’
Sarah laid a hand over Alice's. ‘It wasn't in the papers; we made the decision to go against tradition and not to announce it.’ Her hand patted Alice's, before she moved it away.
Jane fidgeted in her seat and raised her eyebrows. ‘I see.’
Alice lifted her head high. ‘It was my decision. I didn't want Freddie finding out by reading it in a newspaper.’ Jane opened her mouth to speak, but Alice held up her hand. ‘I know he probably wouldn't have seen it, but I don't know where he is.’ Tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘I don't know whether he’s dead or alive, in England or France. I don't know anything.’ She sniffed, before angrily wiping her hands over her cheeks. ‘Sorry, but I'm afraid I’m not coping very well. It's the not knowing. I can't sleep at night for thinking about it.’
Jane lowered her eyes and blinked rapidly, before looking over at Alice. ‘I’m so sorry, my dear girl; I just didn't think. Please forgive me.’
Alice nodded. ‘There’s nothing to forgive.’ She gave a watery smile. ‘I seem to cry at the drop of a hat since I've had Arthur.’
‘That's true.’ Lily laughed. ‘She cried the other day because she couldn't undo the wrapper around the soap.’
Alice joined in the laughter that was slowly building in the room. ‘That's true, I did.’
*
Sarah and Alice removed their gloves and coats, placing them neatly on top of a wooden bench, at the end of the long buffet table on Victoria Station. Alice shivered as she donned her apron, before joining the line of women waiting for the trains to come in. They all busied themselves, preparing cups for tea and slicing cake. Arthur was sound asleep in his pram, tucked in the corner, out of harm's way. He didn't murmur as the trains came and went. Engine noise and the toots of the whistles filled the station, while the grey smoke billowed out of the chimneys. People waited expectantly for them to deliver their heroes home to them. Women murmured to each other as they waited.
‘Damned war,’ an old grey-haired lady whispered. ‘We were told it was going to be over by last Christmas, and yet here we are, over a year later.’
The younger woman pulled at the sides of her headscarf. ‘Hah, they got that wrong, didn't they? It's been seventeen months now and we haven't heard anything about it being over.’
The old lady lifted her walking stick and waved it around. ‘I come here every day, in the hope my son will be on one of the trains, but it hasn't happened so far.’ She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
The young woman arched her eyebrows. ‘Let's hope he’s on today's.’ She shook her head. ‘I heard someone say they’re going to bring in conscription, whatever that is.’
The women stopped talking as they watched a train pull into the platform, casting its shadow over the people waiting. The wheels slowed and the puffing grey smoke gradually lessened. The carriage doors flew open before the train came to a complete standstill. Soldiers in their uniforms stepped off, the first few having to move quickly, as the train was still moving. Their boots and legs were caked in mud. Their weather-worn faces were tanned, each one etched with the pain and gravity of their experiences. Most of them were stooped over, not meeting anyone's gaze.
People cheered as the soldiers approached. Some were waiting, searching the soldiers faces, their eyes alight with the expectation of seeing their man, brother or son.
‘Welcome home.’ An elderly woman went up to each man, repeating herself over and over again, guiding them to the buffet table, where they could each get a free cup of tea and a slice of cake.
Alice searched as many faces as she could, looking for Freddie and Charles, but all to no avail. All she saw were bloodshot eyes and faces that appeared rigid and set in stone. Was this how Freddie and Charles were going to come back?
‘Welcome home.’ Alice frowned at the soldier standing in front of her. ‘Have a cup of tea and a slice of cake.’ She thrust a cup in front of him, along with the sponge cake. ‘You look exhausted.’
The soldier stared at her. ‘Not many of us get to sleep properly.’ He bit hungrily into the light sponge. ‘The trenches fill up with water, rats run around your feet, and that's without the worry that the enemy are going to get you as soon as your eyes are shut.’
Words failed Alice, as she shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry. I don't know what to say.’
The soldier let out a humourless laugh. ‘Don't worry about it; trust me that's a good thing.’
‘I don't know about that,’ Alice mumbled. ‘I feel quite inadequate.’
‘Don't. You’re a vision standing there, and will lift the men's spirits.’ He laughed. ‘The cake's good too.’
Alice smiled. ‘Thankfully.’
The soldier raised his cup in salute and drained it before moving off, and she was faced with another soldier. The eyes of a man, but the face of a boy stared back at her.
A couple of hours later, there was a shift change at the buffet table. Alice removed her apron and replaced it with her heavy black winter coat. She glanced across at her mother, who was doing the same thing. ‘I feel quite exhausted.’
Sarah's face was ashen when she looked over at Alice. ‘They look terrible, don't they?’
Alice nodded, searching for words that accurately conveyed her thoughts. ‘It's strange, but I’ve only thought of them coming back as injured, or not at all.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I’ve never thought they wouldn't come back the same men they were.’ She shook her head. ‘These men today seemed so sad, and yet they were coming home.’
Sarah walked over to the pram and peered inside, before looking back at Alice. ‘They probably know they have to go back. It's not over for them and what they’ve seen will probably never be forgotten. It’ll stay with them forever.’
Alice fastened the last of the buttons on her coat. ‘I don't know how you do this every day.’
‘That's easy. Searching for the boys keeps me coming here.’ Sarah paused. ‘Just like you.’ She shrugged her shoulders and let out a sigh. ‘I know why you insist on driving the ambulance here every night. We are both looking for them, in our own way.’
Alice nodded. She blinked quickly as the tell-tale tears began to prick at her eyes. She closed them for a moment, knowing her mother's thoughts were the same as hers; they were with their men. Would they come back the same as the men that had stopped at the buffet table? Would they come back at all?
Sarah grabbed the bar of the pram. ‘Come on, we have to stay positive; they deserve that.’
Alice stared at her mother, wondering when she had grown so strong. Perhaps she always had been.