‘How you feeling?’
Polly sat down by the side of Tommy’s bed. It was evening visiting hours and there was a low murmur of chatter in the ward. Anyone who got too raucous received a scathing look from matron.
‘All the better for seeing you.’ Tommy turned his head towards Polly, his hazel eyes drinking in the sight of the woman he loved.
‘What time is it?’ he asked.
‘It’s just gone seven,’ Polly said.
‘I must have slept most of the afternoon after you and Arthur left.’
Tommy’s voice sounded croaky and Polly automatically reached over to the bedside cabinet for a glass of water. Tommy pushed himself up so that he was half sitting. It seemed to take every bit of energy he had to do so.
‘Here.’ Polly went to put the tumbler to his lips, but he stopped her and took the glass himself.
‘Thanks, Pol,’ he said, taking a few sips. ‘Was Arthur all right when he got back?’ he asked. ‘He looked tired.’
‘He was fine,’ Polly said, ‘although he’s slowing down a bit now. He’s cut down on the hours he spends at Albert’s allotment. He’s had to admit it’s getting too much for him, especially now winter’s just around the corner.’ Polly looked at Tommy. ‘You probably noticed a difference in your grandda since you saw him last?’
Tommy smiled sadly and nodded.
‘He looks a lot older.’ He paused and took Polly’s hand. ‘You, however, look even more beautiful than I remember, if that’s at all possible.’
Polly blushed and squeezed his hand.
‘It won’t be long before I’m back to the way I was,’ Tommy said, aware of how different he must look from when Polly had last seen him. From the man she’d waved off at the train station almost two years ago.
‘I love you just the way you are, Tommy Watts,’ Polly said. ‘You’re alive, and you’re here, and we’ve got our whole lives ahead of us. That’s all that matters.’
Tommy looked at Polly for a moment before pulling her gently towards him so that he could kiss her.
‘I’ll love you until the day I die, Polly Elliot,’ he whispered.
Catching a sadness in his tone, Polly looked at him.
‘Do you remember much? From your time on the hospital ship?’
Tommy was hit by the image of the young Red Cross nurse as she’d taken her fatal gasp.
‘No,’ he lied, his voice distant, as though he himself were sinking back down to the bottom of the Atlantic along with the nurse.
‘From before then?’ Polly asked gently.
‘From before then?’ Tommy repeated.
‘Yes,’ Polly said, looking at him with concern now. He had turned even paler than he already was. ‘Before you ended up on the hospital ship.’
Tommy closed his eyes briefly. His mind’s eye flickered back to that day in June. He could almost feel the intense North African sun beating down on his face as he put on his diving suit, the heat made only just bearable by the cool sea breeze.
‘Not really. It’s all a bit of a blur,’ he lied.
His memory of that day was, in fact, vivid – the adrenaline coursing through his body as he swam down to the bottom of the ship’s hull, how he’d spotted the limpet mine more or less straight away, worked hard to get it loose, knowing it could go off at any moment. He remembered well the relief on freeing it, the sight of it slowly floating down towards the seabed. He’d swum away from it as quickly as he could. The new diver’s gear he was wearing allowing him more freedom and, therefore, more speed.
If he’d been wearing his normal cumbersome canvas suit, lead shoes and twelve-bolt copper helmet, he would, quite simply, not be here now.
‘There was an explosion underwater,’ Tommy volunteered, knowing he had to say something.
The force of the explosion had knocked him senseless, his body feeling like a feather caught in the eye of a tornado.
‘What happened?’ Polly asked in earnest.
‘I just remember being pushed through the water.’ Tommy paused. ‘Then everything went black. After that I can’t remember much.’
This was true. The force of the explosion had knocked Tommy unconscious.
‘I vaguely remember being hauled aboard the hospital ship, but that’s about it,’ he said, hoping this would satisfy Polly.
Polly was filled with such anger for a country she had not even been able to pinpoint on a map before this damned war. North Africa had stolen the life of one of her brothers, maimed the other, and very nearly taken the man she loved.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever stop counting my blessings that you made it back here alive,’ she said, tears beginning to fill her eyes.
Tommy looked at Polly. It hurt him to see her upset. And even more that he was the cause.
‘Tell me more about last night,’ Tommy asked, wanting to change the subject. ‘Arthur told me bits and bobs.’
Polly sat back and sighed. ‘Oh, Tommy, it was awful.’
Tommy held her hand as she relayed how they had all been at home when the sirens started up. They’d been getting ready to go to the shelter when they’d heard two huge explosions, one after the other.
‘Then there was this banging on the front door,’ Polly said. ‘Like someone was trying to batter the door down. It was Pearl, looking the most worried I think I’ve ever seen her.’
Tommy had never met Pearl but had read all about her in Polly’s letters.
‘She told us one of the bombs had landed in Tavistock Place, where we normally go, which was obviously why she was so worried. Bill was with her and he told us to take refuge in the pub cellar.’
Tommy was listening intently.
‘We could see when we went across to the Tatham that the other bomb had obliterated the bottom end of the street, where Gloria had told us she was visiting an old friend – with Hope.’ Polly took a breath. ‘As soon as the all-clear sounded out, Bel and I rushed to see if she was all right. And that’s when Dorothy and Angie told us they were still in the house. Or rather, what was left of the house. Martha and Helen were in there as well.’
‘So, they’d gone in there to save Gloria and Hope?’ Tommy asked, pushing himself up in the bed.
Polly nodded.
‘So, there we all were, staring at this building that looked like a house of cards on the verge of collapse.’ Polly laughed a little. ‘And then Rosie just said, ever so matter-of-factly, “Well, we better go in there and get them,” and so we all started clambering over bricks and mortar to get to the house. But before we got there, Martha appeared, carrying Hope.’
‘Blimey,’ Tommy said, enthralled.
‘Poor Martha,’ Polly said. ‘She put Hope down and then she just went down like a bag of hammers.’
‘What? She just keeled over?’
Polly nodded, her eyes wide.
‘Then there was this awful cracking noise and we looked up and what remained of the house came down in one fell swoop.’ Polly breathed out. ‘Dr Parker was there with us and we all stood there, waiting and praying. And then through all the dust and dirt we saw them. It was the strangest sight. Helen was holding Gloria up and they were both just stood there – like statues.’
‘Blimey,’ Tommy said again. ‘Talk about lucky.’
‘I know,’ Polly agreed. ‘Then when everyone was over at the St John’s ambulance, Helen suddenly blurted out that you were alive – and you were here!’
Tommy looked at Polly’s face, her eyes sparkling with happiness. He listened as she chatted on, telling him how she and Maisie had raced over to Ashbrooke, and how Rosie’s friend, George, a war veteran, had brought her to the hospital.
Polly had just got to the part where she’d walked through the swing doors of the ward and seen him, when the matron rang her little bell to tell them all that visiting time was over.
After Polly left, Tommy closed his eyes.
Images of the Red Cross nurse overlapped those of the Tatham Street bombing. He railed inwardly, realising how easily the air raid could have claimed the life of the woman he loved. The woman who had given him the will and the strength to survive. He thought about the compassion and care of the nurse whose name he didn’t even know. And the bravery of Helen and Martha, risking their own lives to save Gloria and her little girl.
And the more he thought, the angrier he became.
It wasn’t just those fighting overseas who were dying in their droves, innocent women and children were being killed on their own doorsteps.
There was no escaping the danger, death and destruction that walked hand in hand with Hitler and his fellow warmongers.
This madman and his crazed cohorts had to be stopped.
‘Eee, Bel, I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. I really do. I’ve never felt like this – ever before.’
Bel smiled. It was so lovely to see her sister-in-law glowing with such happiness, love and gratitude. Especially after what had happened last night. She had just heard that the death toll had gone up to fourteen – and that seven of those had been children.
When Beryl had told her, she’d burst into tears. She hadn’t been able to stop them. Seeing Polly now, so happy and in love, full of expectations for the future, was a much-needed respite.
‘Did Helen’s doctor friend say how long it’ll take for Tommy to get better?’ Bel asked.
Polly shook her head as she bit into one of her ma’s home-made oatmeal biscuits. Whenever anything really bad or really good happened, her mother went into a cooking and cleaning frenzy. As there had been both good and bad events in the past twenty-four hours, she’d gone into overdrive.
‘He said we just had to take it day by day,’ she said, wiping crumbs from her mouth. ‘And that the main thing was for him to rest and for his body to get its strength back.’
‘And was Arthur all right?’ Bel asked. She was sitting in the old man’s armchair by the range. Tramp and Pup were by her feet. ‘Only, when I told him last night that Tommy was alive and that you’d gone to the Ryhope to see him, he just stood there. Didn’t move a muscle. It was as though he’d been struck by lightning. Agnes had to sit him down at the table and give him a cup of sweet tea. He just looked at the cup and then up at Agnes and tears started trickling down his face.’
Bel paused.
‘Then he just put his head in his hands and sobbed his heart out.’
Bel looked at Polly. Her eyes had started to fill with tears.
‘It was like all the pent-up emotions from the months of waiting and wondering and thinking Tommy was dead just came pouring out of him.’
Polly nodded her understanding.
‘I have to admit,’ Bel said, ‘me and your ma were struggling not to cry too. When he finally stopped, he stood up and hugged Agnes like she had been the one to bring Tommy back from the dead all by herself. Then he gave me a big hug and took himself off to bed.’
Polly listened intently. Arthur had been such a pillar of strength to her ever since Tommy had left for war.
When she’d gone up to the hospital earlier, she’d walked into the ward and seen Arthur half snoozing in a winged chair she’d guessed the matron must have got him. Tommy had been out for the count, but he had his hand over Arthur’s. They’d looked so close. And Arthur had looked so peaceful.
The two women drank their tea in silence.
Suddenly Bel put her finger to her lips. ‘I think I can hear him talking in his sleep?’ she said, cocking her ear to the hallway.
‘He’s probably shattered,’ Polly said. ‘I could tell he was tired coming back on the bus.’
‘Mmm. It’s not a five-minute journey, is it? The sooner we get Tommy back here the better, eh?’
Polly nodded.
She took another sip of her tea.
‘Bel, I feel I’ve been given my life back. I’m the luckiest woman alive.’
‘You should have seen our lad, pet.’
Arthur was lying on his back in his bed, hands clasped together as if in prayer. His eyes were closed. He didn’t need them open to see his Flo.
‘White as a sheet. And skinny as a rake he was. But he’s alive.’
He yawned.
‘I knew you’d pull some strings up there ’n bring him back safe ’n sound.’
Arthur chuckled.
‘And seeing Polly ’n how happy she is – ah, it’s just wonderful, pet. Really wonderful.’
Arthur yawned again.
He’d never felt so happy himself – nor so tired.
Within a few minutes he had fallen asleep in the middle of his chat to Flo.
Not that she minded.