There had been no bombing for three nights. The air raid sirens still went off at six o’clock and people went to the shelters obediently the first couple of nights, but on the third many stopped halfway. ‘Is it over? Do we really need to go?’ Me and the other ARP wardens got asked again and again.
We couldn’t know but word was the Germans were too busy with their fight in Russia to keep bombing us. But there was no way of knowing if it was permanent. We still had to stick to our routines even though we were all dog-tired from working all day and ARP volunteering some evenings each week. I had weekend leave due and decided to go home to Oxford to see Mum.
It was a cold day for May and I was glad of my ATS greatcoat to keep out the chill, especially when it started to drizzle. As usual the passenger trains were delayed while troop trains and goods trains got priority. As the minutes ticked past and the train got later and later, passengers on the platform got edgy. Like me, many in uniform were on their precious weekend leave and every minute spent on the station platform was a minute less with their loved ones.
The station was packed by the time my train arrived and it was a mad rush to get on when the doors opened. People pushed each other out of the way and I even saw one soldier dive in through a window at the last moment. The carriage he landed in was full so without a word he climbed up onto the luggage rack, spread himself full length on it and went straight to sleep.
By the time the train pulled into Oxford, a weak sun had broken through and my great coat and rucksack seemed heavier. The station looked cheerful, its flower beds bright with colourful blooms I didn’t know the name of. Looking at my watch, I realised Mum would still be at work in the munitions factory so decided to detour to the Dream Palace and see if my old boss was around, or any of the girls I worked with.
The row of shops before the Dream Palace were sad to see. Taylor’s, the butcher’s, had three pork chops in their window display. He’d decorated them with a bit of parsley but the empty metal trays beside them told the truth of wartime rationing. Ten or more women were queueing at Bright’s the baker’s for their bread. Unlike most things bread wasn’t rationed, but there was never enough to go round.
The Dream Palace looked just the same and I heard they were showing Band Waggon with Arthur Askey. I stood outside for a minute remembering that Edward and I had met at this very spot. A man snatched my bag and Edward got it back for me. So much had happened since then that it seemed like another life happening to someone else. Pushing open the glass and metal front door, I was delighted that my old boss was standing there looking the same as ever.
‘Lily!’ he cried and rushed forward almost crushing me in a warm hug. ‘Let me look at you!’ He pushed me away at arm’s length. ‘Gorgeous as ever I see. And what a coincidence that you should come today. Not an hour ago a soldier was looking for you.’
It seemed my heart stopped beating. ‘A soldier? Did he tell you his name?’
He grinned. ‘He did. It was Edward, your fiancé.’
I could hardly speak. ‘Edward? Here? Where is he now?’
‘He asked me if I knew where you were, but of course I didn’t know. I told him to try your mother’s house.’
Without a word, I ran out of the cinema and all the way home, sending up a breathless prayer over and over, ‘Please let Edward still be there.’ But I knew that Mum would be at work so he wouldn’t get any answer.
Out of breath, I almost collapsed at our gate when I saw Edward wasn’t there. I’d long since given up hope of him being alive and now he was and we couldn’t find each other.
I dropped my kitbag to the ground at the gate, and my shoulders sagged with disappointment. I decided that going to his parents’ house was the best thing, but as I put my kitbag on my shoulder again Peggy from next door came out. ‘You looking for your young man?’ she asked, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘He asked after you but I didn’t know you were coming or I’d have told him to wait.’
Hope leapt in my chest again. ‘Did he say where he was going?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, said he was going to the station. You might catch him if you hurry, he’s got a stick and he couldn’t walk very fast.’
I handed her my rucksack and turned towards the station. I ran faster than I’d ever run before, even in my army training days. A couple of times I got jokey comments from blokes I passed but this was no time to listen to them. It’s strange how a journey can seem quick or slow, short or long, depending on your mood and circumstances. The journey back to the station, one I knew well, seemed twice as long as usual. I had to stop a couple of times because of a stitch in my side. Each time I saw a man in army uniform my heart soared, but it was never him.
I ran through the ticket office at the station, pushing people aside and looked around, but the platform was packed and at least three-quarters of the men were in uniform. Frantic, I darted between people, looking for his lovely face. I searched for someone with a stick too and ran over to one man only to find when he turned round he was nothing like Edward. Desperate I shouted, ‘EDWARD, EDWARD,’ but as I did so a station announcement was made and my voice was drowned by news of the incoming train.
I dashed into the cafe in case he was there and peered through the cigarette fug hoping to see him; but no luck. I was just about to give up and was walking back towards the station entrance when the door to the Gents’ opened and there he was, leaning heavily on a stick, pain etched on his face as he walked towards the train. I almost didn’t recognise him because he looked so much thinner and his hair had a smattering of grey.
As I called his name, the station master made another announcement over the loudspeaker and a train chugged into the station. Edward hadn’t heard me and I saw him pick up his bag. Yelling his name over and over I ran towards him and caught him as he stood aside to let passengers off the train.
He turned round and saw me. I hardly looked my best, sweating, with hair falling all over the place, but his eyes lit up. He dropped his bag and held out his arms. I fell into them, trying to catch my breath. ‘Oh, Edward, Edward,’ was all that I could manage to say.
We stood like that as people moved about us getting on and off trains. It was as if we were waxwork figures amidst the living. Then Edward kissed the top of my head and I raised my face and we kissed deeply. Our first kiss since we got engaged on the same station all that time ago. All my worries about whether I’d still have feelings for him melted in that kiss and I felt safe and loved in his arms.
‘Have you got to go now?’ I asked when my brain began to work again.
He shook his head. ‘No, I was leaving because I couldn’t find you, but I can stay until tomorrow.’ He held my hand. ‘Come on, let’s go back to the cafe, it’s part of our history.’
The station cafe was as busy as ever and full of the smells of cooking and cigarettes. Edward walked with a noticeable limp, and I insisted he sit down while I get tea and buns. I didn’t take my eyes off him the whole time I was queueing, worried he’d vanish into thin air and this was all a dream. I saw him flinch with pain as he sat down then he noticed me looking and adjusted his face to a smile.
When I eventually sat down he took my hands in his. ‘I’ve been so worried, Lily, that you wouldn’t want me after all this time. You must have thought I was dead.’
I kissed his hands, my cheeks damp with tears. ‘I did, I did, but I never quite gave up hope. Such a lot has happened since…’ I thought about having been intimate with David and Richard and wondered if Edward would reject me because of it.
He put his finger to my lips. ‘We have a lifetime to swap stories and you can’t have done anything that would change my feelings for you.’
The tension in my shoulders relaxed. ‘Nor mine for you. But where have you been Edward? We never heard a word.’
He tapped his stiff leg and then lifted his hair to show a scar on his scalp. ‘I was knocked unconscious on duty in France and by the time I came round everyone had gone. Everyone living that is. A farmer came by on his horse and cart and took me in. For months they nursed me and I had no memory of anything. Nothing. I couldn’t even remember who I was. The wound in my head and my leg injury stopped me leaving to find my regiment. We knew what that was from my uniform.’
‘Oh, Edward, how awful for you, being ill and not knowing what was happening.’
He nodded. ‘A lot of people have worse in this war and at least I’m still alive. The farmer didn’t have a phone of course so there was no way to contact the regiment.’
I tried to imagine him there, alone and confused. I’d been through a lot since we parted but always had the comfort of Bronwyn and others around me.
‘How did you get home? You must have been surrounded by the German army.’
‘We were, and a few times they came to the farm and I had to pretend to be unconscious. His story was that I was his son and injured in an accident. That way I couldn’t be asked questions when they’d soon realise I wasn’t French. When I was strong enough Jacques, the farmer, made discreet enquiries of the resistance group. They smuggled me out through France and Spain to a ship back to Blighty. It took months especially as my walking is still pretty slow.’
‘That must have been terrifying.’
He reached for my hand again. ‘It was, I lost count of the number of times we thought we’d get caught, but the important thing is that we’re here together now. My leg is slowly getting better.’
We sat, our tea getting cold, swapping stories and reaffirming our love. We had a lifetime ahead to build the future we wanted.
Once the war was over.