Kitty went through the next days in a trance. She hardly noticed if she ate or drank and wanted only to sleep. However, when she tried to do so she would jerk awake again and sit up in confusion, knowing that something was wrong but not what it was. Then she would remember and the whole nightmare would begin again.
This would usually wake Laura, who still had the top bunk above Kitty. Mindful of how caring her friend had been when she’d confessed about her brother, and also when Peter had been so ill, Laura would slip down from her bed and rescue Kitty, walking her up and down the corridor outside the darkened canteen, letting her sit and cry if she needed to. There was little she could say. Nothing would alter the facts. The wonderful Elliott was gone, and there would be no more trips to exclusive Soho nightclubs for them all. Laura knew that Kitty had begun to hope that there would be so much more to come in their future together; she would never have agreed to meet his parents if this had been a flash in the pan. Now that had all been taken away from her.
Laura couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, as Peter was visibly improving every time she managed to go to see him, which was almost every other day. She knew Kitty wouldn’t begrudge her this, but it was such a contrast to how they had been just a short time before. Now their positions were totally reversed. Kitty was devastated, trying to come to terms with her loss, knowing that Elliott had died in an unforgivably cruel way and that everyone thought he was a hero. Peter had survived the crisis and was coming on in leaps and bounds. Whether they would have any sort of future together, Laura still didn’t know; she wasn’t going to force the issue while he was still bedridden. But they had moved far beyond distant captain and reluctant driver. They had a connection nobody else could understand as they had been through the fire together, an experience that she knew had changed her and suspected had changed him too. Now she was content to see where this led them – but at least she would have the chance to find out.
Wearily she trod the familiar path up and down the corridor, letting Kitty lean on her. ‘Do you want to sit down for a bit?’ she suggested finally. ‘We could try the canteen; it’ll be empty and there are loads of chairs.’
Kitty shrugged as if she didn’t mind either way. Laura cautiously tried the door and it swung open, revealing the large room in darkness, except for at one end where the blackout blind had been removed to let light in for the early shift and the moonlight streamed in. She led them to where the silvery beam picked out the shapes of the functional chairs and tables and sat down, letting Kitty take her place opposite.
Kitty sighed and rested her head in her hands. Then she looked up. ‘Do you think I should go to the funeral?’ she asked abruptly.
Laura thought for a moment. ‘Do you want to?’ she asked.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Kitty at once. Then she softened. ‘I’m not really sure. His parents have written to ask me, you see. It’s going to be at their parish church in Hampstead. It will be all his family and whoever is left in London from when he did his training. It’s going to be everyone who knew him from before, from when he was engaged to the professor’s daughter. I’d have to ask for special leave.’
‘What about Bill? He’ll be going,’ Laura pointed out.
Kitty gave a long sigh. ‘I know, he’s bound to. But it won’t feel like anything to do with me. Do you reckon they’ll think badly of me if I don’t go?’
‘None of their business,’ Laura said robustly. ‘You have to do what you think is right. I’m sure nobody will blame you. If you feel you want to go, or that you should go, I’ll come too. I bet Marjorie will as well. After all, we knew him. But if you’d rather not, then don’t.’
‘I don’t think I could bear to,’ Kitty said, trying to explain her feelings when she wasn’t really sure of them herself. ‘I mean, what a way to meet his parents. After all our plans for the weekend, when it was going to be like a celebration. It’s too much. I don’t think I can stand there and shake their hands and have them looking at me wondering what I’m like. Not without him there too.’
Laura nodded slowly. ‘Well, you don’t have to make up your mind tonight. Think about it and let me know if you’d like me to come. It might help. You know. Make it seem more final and all that.’
‘It feels final all right,’ Kitty said disconsolately. ‘It’s sunk in now and there’s nothing I can do to change it. It’s as if I’ve been hollowed out from inside somehow. Some major part of me is missing. I can’t shift the feeling.’
‘Early days yet,’ Laura said, reaching for her hand. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. It would be stranger if you felt all right, if you were running around as usual. It’s perfectly normal to be like this – you’ve lost your chap and he was a wonderful man, no doubt about it. It’s not fair, but life isn’t, is it? When you think of all the cads and the spivs, or the cowards, it’s not right that one of the good ones has to die. I’m so sorry.’
Kitty suddenly thought of Alfie Delaney and Charlie Kennedy, two of the most despicable men she knew, still to the best of her knowledge alive and well and taking advantage of everyone back home. She shook her head. ‘He was one of the good ones, wasn’t he?’ she said quietly. ‘Everyone knew it. He never lost his temper; always had something nice to say about everyone; never avoided his duty, no matter how tired he was, he just kept on going. Till that bomb got him.’ She let out a sob. ‘Oh Laura, I feel so heartbroken, but the funny thing is, I’m not sure I was in love with Elliott, though I was so fond of him, and if we’d had the chance I think I might have fallen for him properly, but I was too busy worrying about whether I was good enough for him – I wasted that short time we had together fretting.’
‘Oh Kitty, feelings are funny things. Falling in love doesn’t always happen immediately. Everyone who knew you both could see that you adored each other,’ Laura reminded her.
‘Elliott was so good to me. He showed me that I could be somebody different … that there was more out there in the world for me if I was brave enough to look for it … and now he’s gone and I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it.’
‘There, there, Kitty, there’s no point trying to predict the future.’ Laura was anxious for her friend. Kitty was such a gentle and kind soul, who felt things deeply. She cursed the war and that blasted Hitler who had thrown so much pain and heartache their way. ‘Come on, let’s go back to the dormitory. See if you can sleep a bit now.’
Kitty dragged herself to her feet. ‘Thanks, Laura,’ she said, tired but meaning it. ‘I know I shouldn’t rush into any decisions now about the funeral. Heaven knows there are plenty of other people in the same boat as me – and worse, in fact. I’ll go where the navy needs me now. That’s the best thing I can do to honour Elliott’s memory – to do my duty too, wherever I’m called to go.’
‘Come on then, Kitty. There’s no way you can do your duty if you haven’t slept,’ Laura urged her gently and, taking her friend’s arm, she led her back up the stairs to the dormitory.
Rita held open the door to the kitchen as Ruby carefully tried to manoeuvre her way inside, uncertain of her balance on the crutches. The small space was crowded enough when there was more than one person in the room, but with somebody on crutches it was twice as tricky. Eventually Ruby managed to get to the table and slowly sat down on one of the hard chairs.
‘There. You did it.’ Rita had been endlessly encouraging in the few days since Ruby had come home. It was going to be a long process, but she couldn’t let the young woman down, or she would retreat into her shell once more. Rita was determined that would not happen. Ruby had spent so many years cowering and afraid, being told she was good for nothing. She couldn’t let this horrible incident set her back.
‘Now, look what the postman brought,’ Rita said. ‘A letter from the farm – how’s that for a welcome home present? I haven’t even opened it; I knew you’d want to see it too.’
Ruby’s face broke into a smile. ‘Yes please.’
Hastily Rita opened the envelope, carefully saving it to use later – she never threw anything away any more if she could help it. Her heart soared at the thought of news from her precious children, whom she still missed painfully every day. But thank God they hadn’t been here during the latest raid. As ever, she told herself they were in the best place and in the safest hands. She unfolded the sheets of paper and was delighted to see one was from Michael and the other from Megan. Rita could guess that Joan or Seth must be helping her, as she was only seven, but her handwriting was improving each time. Rita’s sense of pride in her children welled up. If she wasn’t careful she could easily shed a tear, but she knew she must keep herself under control or it would upset Ruby. ‘Let’s see what they have to say.’ She scanned the first page. ‘Michael’s been chosen for the football team at school. Fancy that. He always loved kicking a ball around in the street but I couldn’t tell if he was any good or not. Maybe Seth has been teaching him.’
Her heart constricted at the thought that Charlie had never bothered to do anything like that. He’d avoided the children whenever he could and Winnie had simply complained that they were too noisy. What sort of upbringing was that? She fervently hoped that Seth was showing Michael how to be a good man, a good husband, in a way that Charlie never could have done. Of course, if it had been Jack at the head of the household, everything would have been different. What a fine example he would have set, and he’d have been out there playing football at every opportunity. But fate had decided differently – and in any case he would still be away serving his country, of that she had no doubt. How she had longed to see him this week, counting the days until his leave, but she would have to wait.
‘Michael’s been helping with Bessie the goat, who was sick but is better now. Joan has made rosehip syrup and tells them to have some every day – that’s good for their vitamins, Ruby – and he’s got new shoes because the others were too small.’ She stopped again, saddened that she was not there to see how her son was growing. He was a proper boy now, not the little child she sometimes automatically thought of. ‘Here, you can read it for yourself while I look at Megan’s.’ She passed Michael’s letter across to Ruby.
Megan’s letter was much shorter and the writing was larger, with the letters still separate and not joined up. But they were clearly formed and even-sized, which made Rita very proud. To think Megan had once been thought of as slow. She wasn’t at all.
‘I helped with the eggs,’ she read. ‘Now there are not many … oh, no, that’s strange.’ She didn’t want to alarm Ruby, but Megan had described the return of the shadow man. Again she didn’t seem afraid but mentioned it as if he was a fact of life, like the hens stopping laying for the winter. The fences had been broken and the hay bales thrown around so they wouldn’t be any good to use. The milk pail had gone missing. Was it the little girl’s overactive imagination, or was there some peril lurking in the apparently safe lanes and fields of the farm? Rita shuddered at the very idea. No, surely not. Seth and Joan would guard her precious children. They had none of their own and had taken to her two and Tommy as if they were family. To all intents and purposes, that’s exactly what they were. They would not let them come to harm. The fences must have been broken in the wind, and maybe a cow had knocked over the hay bales. Anyone could mislay a pail. It didn’t mean that there was some malevolent force around. Children’s imaginations were bound to run riot as the nights drew in and the shadows grew darker, yet that unease she’d felt before when Megan had written to her about the dead bird still persisted … She might write to the couple just to check, and she wouldn’t let Ruby read this in case it worried her.
‘I expect you’re hungry,’ she said now. ‘Why don’t I make us something to eat – we could have some Spam sandwiches with a bit of Branston pickle.’
Ruby looked up from Michael’s letter. ‘Yes please.’ She paused. ‘How is Megan? Is she all right?’ Her eyes were keen.
Rita cursed herself for forgetting how much Ruby loved her daughter – clearly she had picked up that there was something wrong. ‘She says the hens aren’t laying as much,’ she replied brightly, refusing to let any fear enter her voice. ‘She doesn’t say much else, not nearly as much as Michael. Here, pass me that plate.’
She noticed with relief that her diversionary tactic had worked and Ruby let the subject lie. But Rita couldn’t quell a growing sense of unease, as if someone, somewhere, was a potential threat to her children.