Everyone was talking about the second front that summer – when it would happen and where – but it was largely conjecture. Those in the know realised there was a great deal of work to be done before that happened: planning, raising the troops, gathering the equipment, arms and ammunition, and training, a great deal of training. Alec heard that volunteers were needed for a new parachute division and put himself forward. He liked the idea; it had a certain glamour attached to it and there was a shilling a day extra pay once you passed out. Not only that, he knew Eve was stationed at Ringway where the training was done. He had no intention of giving up on her.
He found himself in the newly formed 13th Battalion and stationed at Larkhill on Salisbury Plain, with no idea what was in store for him. Being in the south it was a long way from Ringway, but they were not there long before they were sent to Hardwick Hall in Derbyshire. He did not tell Eve what he was doing; he was determined to make her see that he would not accept defeat and the element of surprise might help.
Hardwick Hall was one of the most historically important stately homes in the country and they weren’t allowed anywhere near the house. Their quarters were huts on the estate. The training here was meant to toughen them up and weed out any who were not up to the physical aspect of the job. Alec found himself on assault courses set up in the woods, where they clambered about like monkeys in the treetops and wallowed in mud, and undertook route marches in full kit, carrying arms and ammunition. These started at ten miles, which had to be done in two hours, then twenty miles in three hours, and ended up with fifty miles to be done in twenty-four hours. Alec, used to working all day on the farm, considered himself fit, but this was something else altogether. The disgrace of being sent back to their units as unfit was a spur to most, but Alec had the extra one of being determined to go to Ringway. He arrived there in July 1943.
He had no time to make enquiries or go looking for Eve, the training was so intense. Apart from the continuing physical exertions – they were up at the crack of dawn for PT – he soon found himself in one of the hangars, where they learnt to fall, jumping out of an old fuselage onto matting, keeping knees and feet together and learning to roll, both forwards and backwards. They did it over and over again until it became second nature.
‘When are we going up in a bloody plane?’ someone muttered under his breath as they toiled to the top of the tower, a contraption from which they jumped, their rate of descent being controlled by a fan. It was much higher than a fuselage and the landing harder.
His words were heard by the RAF instructor. ‘Not yet, you don’t,’ he said. ‘Not until I’m satisfied you won’t break your ruddy neck on landing.’ He held out a helmet on the top of which were painted the words ‘Dig here’, which produced a laugh from the fledgling parachutists. Though they were all keen to make their first jump, they were also nervous. So much could go wrong. The instructor’s job was to minimise that.
At the end of the week they were told they could have the weekend off, which was received with a cheer and a general exodus into Manchester. Alec went looking for Eve.
She was on duty in the stores, looking forward to going off at lunchtime and having the rest of the day to herself, not that she could go until the queue of men with chits to draw stores had been dealt with. Head down, concentrating on the paperwork, she did not notice Alec until she heard his quiet voice say, ‘Hallo, Eve.’
Her head shot up. ‘Alec! What are you doing here?’
‘Looking for you.’
‘How did you get here?’
‘By train and truck, as if that mattered. I’m here.’
‘On leave?’
‘No, silly, posted here to do parachute training.’
‘Oh, Alec, why didn’t you warn me?’
‘I wanted to surprise you.’
‘You certainly did that.’
‘When are you off duty?’
She looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘In about half an hour.’
‘Come on, Corporal, we can’t stand here all day while you chat,’ the man next in the queue grumbled.
‘Go away,’ she told Alec.
She was in a blue funk. Alec was here and he was wonderfully vibrantly alive; he was not at the end of a letter, subject to the vagaries of the postal service. Feelings she had been manfully suppressing had suddenly shot to the surface on seeing him. She had wanted to throw herself into his arms at the same time as she was dismayed by her reaction. Now what to do? She toyed with the idea of slipping out of the back door and avoiding him, until she could sort herself out, but told herself that would be cowardly. She worked for the next half-hour in a daze, then walked out to meet him.
‘Where to?’ he asked, kissing her cheek.
‘Wherever you like. We could take a bus into Manchester, go to a dance, or the pictures.’ Anywhere public where they would not be alone, she thought, admitting to herself that, after all, she was a coward.
They went to see Mrs Miniver, which was not a good choice, Julie realised, when she found tears running down her face, and not all to be laid at the door of the film. She mopped them up, hoping Alec had not noticed. Afterwards, walking through the darkened streets to catch a bus back to the station, he put his arm about her shoulders. ‘You’re not as tough as you’d have us believe, are you?’ he said.
She laughed. ‘No, I’m a big softie.’
‘Could you not spare some of that softness for me?’
‘Oh, Alec, you know I do.’
‘Then why turn away from me?’
‘I haven’t turned away.’
‘Yes, you have. On that last leave at home, you pushed me off.’
‘I’m sorry, it’s just that …’ She was floundering and stopped to calm herself. ‘It’s just that life is so uncertain. You never know from one day to the next what’s going to happen, do you?’
‘And after losing all your family, you are afraid of losing me, is that it?’
It was a way out. ‘Partly, I suppose.’
‘Isn’t that all the more reason to make the most of the time we might have together, however long or short. That’s what Florrie and Matt decided and I think they were right.’
‘But you don’t know much about me, do you?’
‘I know all I want to know. The past is gone. You can’t bring it back.’
She sighed. ‘I wish I could.’
‘Oh, Eve, I wish I could take away the hurt. Please, let me try.’
‘You’ll hate me then.’
‘I could never hate you. I love you. Don’t you understand what that means? It means that I want to marry you, to call you mine, to be joined with you, body, mind and spirit for always. We could be happy together and I could make you forget the horrors.’
‘Forget,’ she murmured. ‘I wish I could and I wish I didn’t.’
‘That’s an enigmatic statement if ever there was one.’ There was a bench at the bus stop and, instead of going to stand in the queue, he pulled her down beside him onto it. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s troubling you?’
She looked about her; there were people coming and going, not the time or place to unburden herself, but she knew she would have to, sooner or later. She could not go on stringing him along. ‘Not now, it’ll take too long. Tomorrow. I’m off duty.’
‘Yes.’
He hugged her to him and kissed her cheek. The bus drew up and they climbed aboard behind the queue. He was cheerful; she was withdrawn. Already she was rehearsing in her mind what she was going to say. And after it was all over and he had left her, angry and disappointed, she would have to write to Florrie and repeat it all. And that would be the end of their friendship, the end of her visits to the farm and the dear people there who had been so good to her. She would be alone again.
‘Good God!’
They had taken a bus into the countryside and walked for miles. He had tried light conversation, but she was unresponsive until he had almost lost patience with her and pulled her down onto the grass beside the track. The sun was shining, the heather was in bloom and the skylarks soaring, but she noticed none of it. He put his arm about her shoulders. ‘Eve, we can’t go on like this.’
‘I know.’
‘Then what’s bugging you?’
She had taken a deep breath and launched into her story, the words tumbling over each other in her effort to get them out, and at the end of it his reaction had been, ‘Good God!’
‘They told me I’d had a child. Whether it’s alive or dead, I’ve no idea. Whether I wanted it or not, I’ve no idea. Whether I loved its father, I have no idea. How can you want to marry someone like that, someone who does not exist?’
‘Of course you exist. You are sitting here beside me. The problem is, what do we do about it?’
‘There’s nothing we can do. I’ve tried everything.’
‘Do you think you will remember in time?’
‘At first I thought I would, the doctors thought so, but it’s been so long now I think it’s gone for good.’
‘I can’t imagine what it must be like, not to remember a childhood, not to remember mother, father, sister, going to school, taking that first job. Can’t you recall any of that?’
‘No. Sometimes I have odd flashes of what I think might be memories, but they’re never substantial enough to grasp and say, ‘Yes, I remember that.’
‘What sort of flashes?’
She told him about the long corridor in what she assumed was an institution where she might have left her baby, the feeling that it was at the seaside, reinforced by the most recent one about the bouncing bombs, which had left her unsettled for days, and her fear of being shut in the dark, which she assumed was on account of being buried under rubble during the air raid. ‘As far as I am concerned that was when my life began,’ she said, relaxing a little now the story had been told. ‘The seventh of September 1940.’ She gave a troubled laugh. ‘Eve Seaton came into this world already an adult.’
‘Oh, my love,’ he said, hugging her to him. ‘I wish I could help, but if you can’t remember, you can’t, and that’s it.’
‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a disappointment to you, but you’ll soon find someone else.’
‘Find someone else! What are you talking about? I don’t want anyone else. I want you. Why, if you were to marry me, you would have a new name, a real one.’
His words echoed for a second, as if she were being nudged, but the feeling left her as had so often happened in the past. ‘But would such a marriage be legal?’
‘I don’t see why not. In any case, I don’t care. The past’s gone, water under the bridge.’
‘No, it’s not. It’s a whirlpool, going round and round, going nowhere, dragging me down and everyone I love with me.’
‘Eve Seaton, you are talking nonsense. Either you put the lost life behind you and get on with the one you have, or we make a concerted effort to find out the truth and all that entails, good or bad. There must be something that can be done. Somewhere or other there must be lists of people missing in air raids. At least you know the place and the date, so that’s a starting point.’
‘I’ve done all that.’
‘Then we’ll do it again. Together.’
‘And if we don’t succeed?’
‘Then I want you to promise me you’ll put it behind you and become Mrs Alec Kilby.’
‘Can you put it behind you?’
‘Yes.’ He was firm on that score.
‘I don’t think you realise how difficult it will be. Every day something or someone will remind you that you’ve only got half a wife, the other half will be gone into some void, a ghost to haunt you. I might even be a criminal. Who’s to tell?’
‘I don’t believe that for a moment. Losing your memory does not change you fundamentally. You’re still the same person inside, still the sweet, compassionate, brave Eve Seaton I know and love, and I reckon you always were.’
‘Oh, Alec.’ She was in tears. He mopped them up.
‘Don’t cry, sweetheart, I was trying to cheer you up.’
She gave him a watery smile. ‘You have.’
‘What about Florrie and your parents? I’ll have to tell them now I’ve told you.’
‘Of course, but they know how I feel about you and will go along with whatever we decide. All I need to know is if you love me. That’s all that matters.’ He turned towards her and took both her hands in his, looking earnestly into her eyes, such very blue troubled eyes. ‘Do you? Yes or no?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank heavens for that.’ He gathered her into his arms and kissed her good and long, but he was careful not to let his feelings run away with him. This love was too precious to spoil and he had to take it very slowly. He was also aware that nothing else had been resolved. It was all very well to say they would find out the truth, but how could they do anything about it while they were subject to the vagaries of the War Office? Sleuthing would have to wait while he went back to helping win the war.
For the next few weeks he saw Julie as often as he could, but the training was even more intense as they progressed. They had to do eight jumps to qualify, three from a cage suspended from a barrage balloon, one of which was done at night, and five from an aircraft. He was a bundle of nerves before that first balloon jump, as they all were, but once in the air with the parachute open above him it was a wonderful sensation. They had been told how to control their descent by manipulating the harness straps, but that was not easy as they swung to and fro while an instructor on the ground yelled up at them through a loudspeaker. They all landed safely, if not elegantly, rolled up their parachutes and carried them to the trucks to be taken back to Ringway, where WAAF parachute packers would repack them.
‘It’s the most exhilarating feeling,’ he told Julie, later that day when they both had a few hours off duty. ‘You feel so free and the world’s spread out below you. The landing was a bit hard and one or two hurt themselves …’
She knew that happened quite often and had seen the ambulance careering out of the gate towards Tatton Park where the men were dropped. Broken femurs and ankles and dislocated shoulders were fairly common. Now and again there was a fatality when a parachute failed to open ‘But you were OK?’
‘Yes, fine. Don’t worry about me.’
‘What does your mother think about you doing this?’
‘Oh, she’s all right about it. She thinks it’s keeping me out of harm’s way.’
‘Oh, Alec, what sort of yarn have you spun her?’
He laughed. ‘Parachuting is great fun and miles away from any action. I could be on active service in Italy instead of safely in England, which I pointed out to her. And don’t you dare tell her any different.’
They were a couple now, everyone knew it, and Julie had accepted it, though she still had enormous doubts. It was a good thing, she decided, that they couldn’t think about marriage or she would have to make decisions she wasn’t ready to make. Not that she didn’t love Alec; she loved him heart and soul and knew he was ‘the one’, as Florrie would have said, but they were no nearer a solution to her dilemma. She had told Florrie about it in a very long letter and been forgiven for keeping her in the dark for so long, and Florrie had told her that if Alec wanted to marry her, then what was she waiting for? Speaking for herself, she had never been happier and would not have forfeited her time with Matt for anything, even though it took a lot of organising and switching of duties and leaves to bring it about.
Julie knew about that because she and Alec were doing the same thing as far as they were able to, but even being on the same station did not help when he was being kept at it night and day. There was a purpose to it all, and everyone appreciated that.
The balloon jumps out of the way, Alec found himself lining up with his ‘stick’ of ten men to climb aboard a Whitley to make his first descent from an aircraft. They had to clear the aeroplane in the shortest possible time after reaching the dropping zone. It was important that they land close together because the jump was really only the beginning; they had to assemble and turn themselves into ground troops ready for battle. When the red light came on in the fuselage, they stood up and hooked themselves onto the static line which would automatically release their parachutes, and shuffled into line. The exit was through the floor and they had practised it many times, because if you didn’t jump clear the pack on your back hit the back of the opening and sent you spiralling, but jump too enthusiastically and your nose hit the front – the ‘Whitley kiss’ they called it. The first man sat on the edge. Red light changed to green and the RAF dispatcher shouted ‘Go!’ and they went out one after the other with no hesitation. A refusal to jump meant being sent back to your original unit and was the ultimate shame. ‘Go!’ was the command that governed all their training and was ingrained into their brains, so that obedience became an instinct.
‘I’ve done it,’ he told Julie after his eighth jump. ‘Passing-out parade tomorrow and I get my wings and my red beret.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘And you know what? It’s ten days’ leave before we’re posted.’
Julie suddenly felt miserable; she had known it had to end, this being on the same station, but now it was close she realised how much she would miss him. ‘Where are you being sent?’
‘Back to Salisbury Plain, I expect.’
‘Nearer home, then.’ It was said flatly to cover her dismay.
‘Yes, but that’s not the point. The point is ten days’ leave. Can you get some leave, so we can have time together before I go?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘But you’ll try, won’t you? It’ll be the last time we’ll be able to see each other for ages. I reckon the invasion’s not too far away and all leave will be cancelled. I want to have some happy memories to take with me.’
Happy memories. Why did remembrance feature so strongly in everyone’s lives, especially her own? He wanted happy memories and so did she.
‘You do want to be with me, don’t you?’ he queried, sensing her hesitation.
‘Yes, yes, of course I do. I’ll ask.’
‘You’ll do more than ask, you’ll beg.’
She laughed. ‘OK, I’ll beg.’
If she had expected their leave to be spent at the farm she was mistaken. Florrie had told him what a wonderful time she and Matt had had on the shores of Lake Windermere and he had booked a week at the same holiday cottage. He did not tell her until they were well on their way, and she realised with a sudden jolt that when he said he wanted them to spend their leave together, he had meant night and day. It sent her into a panic. Had he taken her agreement for granted?
Her first reaction was to tell him to turn round and go back, but that was quickly followed by ‘Why?’ Why go back? What had she to lose? Not her virginity, that had already gone, but she might lose the man she had come to love. Life was too uncertain to be prudish. She settled back in her seat and closed her eyes, letting the cool wind flow over her face and relax her. She was lucky, so very lucky, and she must make sure he knew how she felt. Her loss of memory seemed suddenly less important, not really important at all.
Slowly and surely as the year progressed, the tide of war began to turn in the Allies’ favour. The Russians had turned defeat into victory at Stalingrad and were on the offensive. They were difficult allies, in spite of the help being sent to them in Arctic convoys which braved the U-boats and the terrible weather conditions to reach them. They wanted a second front in the west to take the pressure off them. They didn’t want it any more than the British people, who were war-weary and longed for peace. An invasion of Europe would surely be the beginning of the end, but it could not be done in a hurry, and Italy had to be dealt with first.
The North Africa campaign ended in total victory, leaving the troops to turn their attention to Sicily and then to Italy. News of the invasion came on 3rd September, exactly four years after the declaration of war. Five days later the Italian government surrendered and changed sides and Italy became one of the occupied countries. The Germans still held out and the Allies’ slow progress up the boot of Italy was frustrating for those who had been anticipating a second front that year.
It was the main topic of conversation in The Papermakers. It was always full, even when there was a shortage of beer. Half a pint could last all evening if it was larded with conversation and a game of darts or shove-halfpenny, which amused the Americans. They hadn’t taken over the airfield at Swanton Morley as they had done in other places, but since that first draft, they had arrived in huge numbers and spread themselves all over the country. There was no ignoring them and even those who hadn’t a good word to say for them realised they had come to be part of the invasion of mainland Europe, and if they had to invade Britain first, then so be it. There were still some in Swanton flying combined ops with the RAF. The villagers had become used to seeing them around. There had even been a couple of weddings, though the more sceptical among the population wondered what the new wives were letting themselves in for. ‘A strange country, strange customs, and how do they know their new in-laws will welcome them?’ Jane had said.
‘It’s too late this year,’ someone said gloomily, staring into his almost-empty glass, swilling the dregs round as if it would suddenly fill again. ‘Another bloody year of this.’
‘It can’t get any worse,’ Pam said. Harry was on duty, which was why she had come into the pub with her parents. She had a weak lemonade shandy on the table in front of her. She would not allow herself anything stronger because a baby was due in April the following year. ‘Perhaps the war will be over by then,’ she had said, so happy and optimistic no one had the heart to argue with her. Harry had expressed himself ‘pleased as punch’.
‘Wanna bet?’ the landlord said. ‘Did you hear on the news there’s been more air raids on London. Don’t look like they’re ready to give up yet. At this rate there’ll be nothing left standing.’
‘There i’n’t nothin’ left standing of Hamburg,’ Bert put in. ‘We’re givin’ them hell. You ask Harry.’
Harry, along with all the other airmen, was flying almost every other night, pounding away at targets in Germany and the Low Countries, softening them up for the invasion which was sure to come. Germany was being repaid several times over for the Blitz on London and other British cities. He had told Pam the euphoria he had felt at the beginning was wearing thin, and when he looked down at the burning cities, he found himself wondering about the people down below, not only the troops which he said were legitimate targets, but the women, old men and children – women like Pam expecting new life and instead having it snuffed out. He said it was making him feel like a murderer.
Leave was in short supply that Christmas, but Julie managed a seventy-two-hour pass for the New Year and travelled down to Hillside Farm on New Year’s Eve, which was a Friday. The Kilbys made her as welcome as they always had even though they now knew her secret. As far as they were concerned she was Eve Seaton, their son’s chosen bride. If they had misgivings they certainly did not voice them.
Maggie and Julie were toasting their toes by the kitchen range after washing up the lunch things, when the door was opened. Thinking it was Walter, Julie did not look up from contemplating the flames, but Maggie did. She jumped up … ‘Alec!’ … and flew to embrace him.
Julie was on her feet as soon as she heard his name and he crossed the room and hugged her to him, kissing her soundly before she could even utter a word. It was Maggie who did all the talking. ‘Why didn’t you let us know you were coming? We’d have delayed lunch. Have you eaten? Are you hungry? How long have you got?’
He released Julie and turned to his mother, laughing. ‘I didn’t know myself, so I couldn’t let you know, and I’m due back on Sunday night. And I could eat a horse. Any more questions?’
‘Not now, later perhaps. Take Eve into the sitting room, there’s a fire in there, while I rustle up some food.’
Julie followed him into the next room and they sat down side by side on the sofa where he kissed her again, this time more thoroughly. ‘God, I’ve missed you,’ he said.
‘And I’ve missed you.’ She nestled in his arms, no longer afraid. She had seen men come and go, listened to the news and followed the conduct of the war, or as much of it as was made public, and had decided the past did not matter – especially her own past, which had no bearing on the momentous events unfolding about her – that the future was as unknown as the past, and it would be better to concentrate on the present.
‘It will be over soon and then we can think of getting married.’
‘The war, you mean.’
‘Of course the war. I reckon the invasion’s not far off and that will put paid to Hitler and all he stands for. The world will be at peace.’
‘When d’you think it will be?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine, but judging by all the training we’ve been doing, it can’t be that far away. We’ve been on so many night exercises I feel like an owl. We’ve criss-crossed Salisbury Plain with maps so many times I’m beginning to think I know every rock and pool. Salisbury Plain in midwinter is perishing cold and we’ve been soaked to the skin many a time. We’ve dug defensive positions and been on exercises, when we’ve jumped into supposed hostile forces and practised capturing and holding bridges, and then we’ve taken our turn to be defenders on the ground. On one occasion we were dropped up in Scotland with nothing on us – no money, no identity, nothing – and told to make our own way back to camp in twenty-four hours, and if the police or MPs picked us up, we’d have failed. All good fun but none of it gave any hint as to where we’re going and when.’
‘Did you manage it?’
‘To get back? Yes, hitched a lift to start with and got as far as Manchester. I’d have stopped by to see you, but I didn’t have time. Then I got on a freight train when no one was looking, which landed me in the middle of nowhere, but there was a little country station with no one checking tickets, so I nipped on a train, dodged the ticket collector when he came round and jumped out just before it rolled into Salisbury Station. I pinched a bike for the last few miles.’
‘That was naughty of you.’
‘All’s fair in love and war. I reckon the owner got it back. The road to the camp was littered with stolen bicycles, cars and motorbikes. There was even a light aircraft. They couldn’t pin the crimes on anyone and in any case we had been told to use our initiative and a blind eye was turned. But it was made known that anyone who had had a vehicle stolen on the particular day could come and pick it up.’
‘And how could they do that if you’d taken their only means of transport?’
‘I’ve no doubt a bit of initiative was called for,’ he told her wryly. ‘Anyway, they were paid compensation. Enough of me – what have you been up to?’
‘The usual. Minding the stores. We’re not getting so many training courses at Ringway now so perhaps you’re up to strength. I might get moved.’
‘Any idea where?’
‘No.’
Maggie called them back to the kitchen, where she had cooked bacon, eggs and fried bread for Alec. He sat down and attacked it with gusto. ‘Anyone would think you were starving,’ she said, watching him eat.
‘I am.’
Julie laughed. ‘You’re lucky your people live on a farm. You should see what townspeople have to manage on. Even tea is rationed now and the cheese ration’s reduced again. There’s a lot of scrounging and dodgy dealing going on.’
‘You’ll always get that, town or country,’ Maggie pointed out.
He put down his knife and fork with a satisfied sigh and turned to Julie. ‘What do you fancy doing tonight, sweetheart?’
‘I don’t mind. You choose.’
‘There’s a New Year’s Eve dance in Andover,’ his mother suggested.
‘Fancy that?’ he asked Julie.
‘Yes, why not?’
Walter had come in while Alec was eating, and having greeted his son, he sat down to remove his boots and put on his slippers, warming on the fender. ‘You can take the car if you like,’ he said. ‘There’s petrol in it.’
The weather was cold; Julie changed out of uniform into a green woollen dress with a matching bolero which could be removed if it became too warm in the dance hall, brushed out her short hair, applied a little make-up and donned high-heeled shoes. It was lovely to be in civvies again and even lovelier to be with Alec. That had been a surprise, but a very welcome one.
The dance hall was crowded with civilians and service people of both sexes in khaki, navy and air force blue, with a fair proportion of Americans. Everyone was determined to have a good time and the band played all the latest dances, from traditional waltzes and foxtrots to boogie-woogie and swing, from rumba and tango to the hokey-cokey and hands, knees and bumps-a-daisy and the conga, when everyone grabbed the person in front of them and paraded round the floor in a long crocodile. Just before midnight the last waltz was announced and Alec took Julie into his arms for that.
‘Had a good time?’ he asked her.
‘Yes, lovely, and so unexpected.’
‘I love giving you surprises.’
‘So I noticed.’
‘There’s one more to come.’
‘Oh, what?’
‘It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it? Wait and see.’
The music stopped and started up again to play ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and they linked hands with their neighbours for the traditional ushering in of the new year. ‘Happy New Year, my love,’ Alec said as someone switched on a wireless and they heard the strokes of Big Ben chiming midnight.
He kissed her chastely and they stood for the national anthem and then went out to find the car. Halfway home he stopped in a lay-by and turned towards her. ‘I haven’t kissed you properly for ages.’
She laughed. ‘It was only a few hours ago in your parents’ sitting room.’
‘That was ages ago.’ He proceeded to remedy the situation. ‘Pity we can’t go to bed,’ he said ruefully. ‘But I don’t think Ma would stand for it.’
‘No, I don’t think she would.’
‘It was good, though, wasn’t it, that last time?’
He was referring to that leave they had spent in the Lake District and what he laughingly called their honeymoon without a wedding. ‘Yes,’ she said, remembering again the wonderful feeling of being loved and wanted, and wanting him with every fibre of her body and soul, and how they had explored each other’s bodies and achieved something she could only call profound and unmatched ecstasy.
‘It’ll happen again, over and over when you become Mrs Kilby.’
‘I haven’t exactly said I will,’ she reminded him.
‘But you’re going to, aren’t you? You’re going to say yes, and you’re going to say it now.’ He pulled a small box from his pocket, took off the lid and picked out the ring that lay there. It sparkled in the moonlight. ‘Eve Seaton, I love you very much. Will you consent to marry me and make me the happiest man in the world?’
She looked from the ring in his fingers to his pleading face. How could she deny him when it was so much what she wanted herself? ‘Yes, Alec, I’ll marry you.’
‘Whoopee!’ he shouted and kissed her and in the process dropped the ring on the floor of the car. They spent several seconds laughing and scrabbling round in the dark trying to find it, and as soon as they did and were once more seated side by side, he slipped it on her finger. ‘There it is and there it stays until the day you take it off to have the wedding ring put on,’ he said.
‘You know we’re not allowed to wear jewellery in uniform except a wedding ring.’
‘Then put it on a ribbon round your neck. Let’s go home and tell Ma and Pa.’
‘They’ll have gone to bed.’
He grinned. ‘Want to bet on it?’
‘You told them?’
‘Yes, while you were changing. They’ll be waiting with the wine uncorked.’
He was right. They toasted each other with Maggie’s home-made wine and laughed a lot and talked about getting married and dates and times for the wedding and the reception, until Julie was quite squiffy. She had to be helped to bed. Alec would have stayed with her but she was sober enough to send him away with a passionate kiss and no more.
She woke next morning with a raging headache. Alec, who was more used to his mother’s wine than she was, seemed not to be suffering and after breakfast suggested a long walk to clear her head. This they did and on returning home found the house empty and a note on the kitchen table. ‘Gone into Andover to shop. Dad’s helping with the hunt. Make yourselves some lunch.’
‘She thinks she’s being tactful,’ Alec said, laughing, and taking Julie’s hand, he led her upstairs.
* * *
Harry was tired; he was more than tired, he was exhausted. He had lost count of the number of times he had flown to Berlin in the last three months, and more recently against railways, bridges and other important targets in France, and it was taking its toll, not only of everyone’s nerves, but of men and machines. He was now one of the oldest and most experienced members of his squadron and it was his bounden duty to remain calm under pressure and set a good example. As soon as they landed he went to debriefing and then raced across the airfield to home, where Pam was there to soothe him and feed him and let him sleep. She was a roly-poly now, the time for her to give birth approaching, and he worried it would happen one night when he was flying, not that anything could be done about that. The local midwife had been alerted and her mother was near at hand, and they wouldn’t want an agitated man dancing round them when the time came.
The trouble was that he couldn’t help thinking about George – plump, happy George whose life had been so cruelly cut short. He could not bear the thought of something like that happening again. It was a good thing there hadn’t been so many air raids lately. Hitler had other things to worry him; when and where the invasion was going to take place for one thing. No one, except those at the very top, knew that but it couldn’t be long now; all the signs pointed to it. A ten-mile strip of the coastline from the Wash to Land’s End had been banned to civilians, more and more troops went on manoeuvres, more and more strange vehicles clogged the country roads. Guns and ammunition trains whooshed past wayside stations, holding up passenger trains. Southern England, and that included East Anglia, was becoming one vast army camp, but still there was no announcement. No doubt he would have a role to play, but he was glad he wasn’t in khaki.
He didn’t know whether to be pleased or furious when the group captain sent for him and told him he was to be grounded and given a job in the ops room. ‘You’ve done your bit, Flight Lieutenant,’ he said. ‘Let some of the others take over …’
‘But, sir, I can’t sit on my arse, twiddling my thumbs while the rest of the crew go off night after night.’
‘You won’t be twiddling your thumbs, you can be sure of that. The job is a vital one and will be even more important when the balloon goes up. You’ve done more that your stint of operations. The MO tells me you’re tired …’
‘He’s an old woman.’
‘Flight Lieutenant, you will not refer to our medical officer in those terms,’ he said sharply. ‘Captain Marison is responsible for the fitness of everyone to do the job required of them and he says you need a rest. It’s non-negotiable. Take fourteen days’ leave and come back refreshed. You are soon to be a father, concentrate on that.’
Harry saluted and walked out of the office but underneath his annoyance was a sense of relief he would not admit to. He went to find Tim and tell him the ‘bad’ news, only to discover that Tim had also been taken off the flight and was being posted somewhere down south where he was to take on a training role. ‘I reckon it’s something to do with the invasion,’ he said. ‘They need extra pilots.’
‘They need wireless operators too. I don’t see why they have to break us up.’
‘Don’t tell me you want to move, with the delectable Pam about to drop her sprog any minute. Count your blessings, man.’
‘I’ll miss you too. We’ll have a good knees-up at the pub to see me on my way.’
‘You’re on.’
Pam, of course, was delighted by the news that Harry was grounded. She was tired too and felt lumpy and ungainly and longed to be slim again. She was looking forward to being a mother, and though she did not mind whether she had a boy or a girl, for Harry’s sake she would like to give him a son to make up for the one he had lost. He was a loving husband, caring, considerate and always cheerful, but she sensed he was under a lot of strain, and the only way she could help him was to be especially calm and not bother him with trifles. She knew he was disappointed at being grounded and would badger the powers that be to let him fly again. She hoped they would not listen to him, though she did not say so. They were extremely lucky to have been allowed to live together in the village and have something approaching a home life, if you discounted the times when he went off in the evenings and didn’t return until dawn, or when he was required to stay on the station in case he were needed. He’d have to do some nights in the ops room, but at least he’d be on the ground, and when she heard the planes take off and zoom over the housetops she would know he was not in one of them and she would not be sick with worry until he came back.
‘When’s Tim having this party, then?’ They had finished supper and she was sitting on his lap on the sofa, her head nestling in his shoulder, the big bump of her coming child sticking out under his hand where he could feel the baby kicking.
‘Saturday night. You don’t mind me going, do you?’
‘No, of course I don’t, silly. You enjoy yourself.’
He looked at her with his head on one side. ‘I love you, Pam Walker. Without you I’d fall apart.’
‘Oh, go on with you.’
‘I mean it. You hold me together, and when the little one comes and this war is over, we’ll have a grand life together, you and I and our children. I’d like more than one.’
‘So would I. Two little Harry Walkers as handsome as you and two little girls to match.’
He laughed. ‘We’ll need a bigger house.’
‘So, we get a bigger house. The Government has promised homes for everyone after the war. It was on the news.’
‘Believe that if you like. They’ll have to be paid for and there’s a lot of other things need rebuilding as well.’
‘You’re just a natural-born pessimist.’ She kissed him fondly and scrambled to her feet. ‘I’m going to make some cocoa, d’you want some?’
‘Yes, please, and then I’m for bed.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘And I don’t have to get up in the morning. Fourteen days, fourteen glorious days. If it weren’t for the baby we could go away somewhere.’
‘Do you want to go away?’
‘Not without you, I don’t. No, I’ll be content just to laze around here and watch you getting bigger and bigger.’
‘I’m not going to get much bigger. Very soon, I’ll be a lot smaller, perhaps while you’re on leave. That would be perfect.’
She had her wish. Colin Harold Walker was born at four o’clock on the morning of March 1st 1944 and his sister, Louise Jane, ten minutes later. Twins had not been expected and caused a little consternation at first, but when everyone had recovered from the surprise they were delighted. ‘We’ve got half of our four at one go,’ Pam said, looking fondly at her tiny babies, lying head to toe in the cot they had prepared for one. Colin was the bigger of the two by half a pound, but they both had dark-brown hair and dark eyes and equally loud voices.
Harry, sitting on the edge of her bed, holding her hand, kept looking from her to his children and almost burst with pride and happiness. He knew he would have to go back to the war in a couple of days and there were some difficult times ahead, but he did not doubt that victory was within grasp and then there would be peace. Peace. How good it sounded.