Authors: Pamela Evans
Was she being chucked, or was there something wrong? May asked herself one evening a day or two later when Doug didn’t turn up as arranged. How was a girl to know? He was such a strange sort of a bloke. Although there was usually a real spark between them, sometimes she felt as though there was nothing and he seemed like a stranger.
He’d been particularly moody recently, something she’d put down to the war news from abroad, which always seemed to affect him personally, probably because he was so sensitive about what he saw as his lack of a role in the war. But maybe his absence had nothing to do with that at all and it was simply that he was bored with her. After all, he had never mentioned his intentions towards her and they had been seeing each other for almost a year now. You heard about this sort of thing all the time; a chap not turning up for a date and the girl never seeing him again.
‘Is Doug not coming over for you this evening?’ enquired her mother.
‘Apparently not,’ she replied, her emotions confused between a feeling of personal rejection and concern for Doug. ‘But I was expecting him.’
‘He’s probably had to work late,’ guessed her mother.
‘Maybe he’s stopped off for a quick one,’ suggested her father. ‘And I don’t blame him either. It’s thirsty work cycling all the way from Richmond after a day’s work.’
‘You would say that,’ said Flo with mock disapproval. ‘Since a quick one or three at the pub is your answer to everything.’
‘Can’t beat it,’ said Dick.
Her parents entered into some good-humoured bickering but May wasn’t listening. As time ticked by and darkness fell, she knew he wasn’t coming and she had a horrible knot in the pit of her stomach. Surely a decent man like Doug wouldn’t end things between them this way, would he? And if not, where was he?
After a sleepless night May decided that there was only one way to find out what was going on. After the shop closed for the afternoon, this being half-day closing, she got on her bike and headed for Richmond in the glorious sunshine with just enough of a breeze to keep her cool.
She was nervous as she approached the riverside and was mulling over what she would say to him if she found him safe and well. ‘The least you could have done was tell me to my face,’ she was rehearsing silently. ‘Not just stay away. That’s cowardly.’
Riding along the towpath towards the boat, she stared and stared again.
Sands Nest
wasn’t there! She blinked hard. She must have come to the wrong stretch of the river, she thought, looking around. But no, this was definitely Doug’s mooring, away from the town and the other boats; she recognised the willow trees and the boatyard nearby. The boat was Doug’s home; how could it have disappeared completely? He must have moved lock, stock and barrel, without a word to her. She’d known that Doug was deep, but this was downright devious and she didn’t believe he was that.
Not prepared to leave without finding out more, she headed for the boatyard in search of information.
‘I know nothing about it, miss,’ said the boatyard owner, a tanned, muscular man who looked to be around sixty.
‘Surely he must have told you that he was moving away,’ she said. Doug knew all the river people and he was on friendly terms with this man.
‘No,’ said the man, looking decidedly evasive but grim too somehow. ‘He didn’t say anything to me.’
May didn’t believe a word of it. She knew that there were times when men ganged up in defence of each other against the opposite sex. ‘Look, I am not chasing him,’ she made clear. ‘I just want to know if he’s all right.’
The man shrugged, looking shifty. ‘People come and go as they please on this river,’ he said defensively. ‘They don’t have to account to me for their movements.’
‘I realise that, but he was friendly with you; surely he must have said something.’
‘No. Nothing at all.’
‘I can understand you wanting to cover for him if I was planning on making a nuisance of myself, but I’m not, I promise you. Can you just tell me if he’s all right and I’ll be on my way.’
‘I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t be all right – he was fine when I last saw him – but as I’ve told you, I know nothing about his whereabouts,’ the man said again, and May thought he seemed extremely tense. ‘If his boat has gone, it’s gone. There’s nothing I can do about it. I suggest you go home because I can’t help you and I have work to get on with. Mind how you go on that bike of yours, miss.’
May fixed her eyes on him, certain he knew more than he was letting on. But finally accepting that she wasn’t going to get another word out of him she said, ‘Thanks for your time,’ and wheeled her bike back the way she had come, stopping to look at the empty space where Doug’s boat had been. What was going on, and where was Doug?
So this was the reality of war, thought Doug, as the scene registered through the smoke. Hundreds of thousands of exhausted, dispirited men soaked to the skin as they waded off the Dunkirk beaches under heavy German strafing, in the hope of getting a place on a boat back to England. In the water floated the bodies of those men for whom it was already too late.
Sands Nest
was being manned by the navy, some experienced volunteers and Doug himself, who, having convinced the authorities who came to commandeer the boat that he was an experienced sailor and was keen to help in the rescue mission, had been allowed to stay on board provided he didn’t make a nuisance of himself. The boat was too large for the very shallow waters, so they were collecting men from the little rowing boats and taking them back to England. Many were going on the big warships waiting further out.
The noise of the bombs and the guns blasted his eardrums and the smoke, which was being used as a screen to confuse the German bombers, was so strong he thought he would choke.
Doug and the other volunteers and sailors hauled the exhausted troops on board, some English, some French, and all very wet, smelly and glad to have got a place on one of the many civilian vessels. All Doug’s personal belongings had been taken off the boat to make space and put in store to be returned at a later date. Then
Sands Nest
had been towed to Ramsgate, from where the armada of little boats had departed, everyone involved in the rescue operation sworn to secrecy by law.
Now that the boat was full, with no space for another soul, they headed for home, and would return again and again until every serviceman was away from those deadly beaches. Doug was humbled by the courage of these men, and for the first time in his life he felt truly useful.
Like most people in wartime, May and her parents listened to the news on the wireless avidly. Towards the end of May they heard the BBC newsreader on the six o’clock news say that the undefeated British troops had been coming home from France with their morale as high as ever.
‘That’s a bit queer, isn’t it?’ said Dick, who had come home early to make up for working some Sundays. ‘If they are undefeated, why have they come home?’
‘Dunno, love,’ said Flo, who was busy peeling potatoes and had only come into the living room to listen to the news. ‘As long as they’re back safe, that’s what matters.’
‘They’re keen to go back to have another crack at Jerry, the newsreader has just said so,’ Dick mentioned thoughtfully. ‘It seems mighty peculiar to me. But the government are very cagey about what they allow us to know.’
‘It isn’t for the likes of us to worry about,’ she said. ‘We have to trust the government to run the war.’
‘And if they’ve already been coming home,’ Dick went on, ‘why weren’t we told about it before?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Flo. ‘My job is to keep this family going with everything getting so short, yours is to build ships and Mr Churchill’s is to look after the war. I’m happy to leave him to it.’
‘We’ll have to keep a close eye on the news to find out what it’s all about,’ said Dick.
Sands Nest
chugged across the Channel for the final time, crowded with weary soldiers who were to be put on trains and taken to hospitals and army camps. Doug had been told that he was no longer needed as the mission was all but completed.
Mercifully the crossing was smooth, the sky clear, the waters calm and the sun shining. Everyone knew that bad weather would have made a failure of the rescue operation. Doug was well aware that his boat probably wouldn’t have survived a storm at sea. Until now she had only been used for pottering about on the Thames, with only an occasional trip along the coast.
But she had served him well, and with nature on their side they had managed to rescue a great many soldiers. No one had said much about it, but it was obvious to him that many more had been left behind; those who couldn’t reach Dunkirk in time to get on the boats. With German supremacy as it was at the moment in France, Doug didn’t reckon much to their chances such was the brutality of war.
He himself had been away for nine days and would be glad to be home. The troops on this boat and those abroad would have a long time to wait before they could return home for good, with Hitler’s army currently having the upper hand. He turned his mind to happier thoughts of May.
His departure had occurred at such a speed he hadn’t had time to let her know he was going away. He had thought it might happen at some point, because he had sent the details of
Sands Nest
to the Admiralty when they’d made it known that they were looking for boats of all types, including pleasure craft. Even at that early stage he had been sworn to secrecy. Then a couple of weeks ago a chap had arrived out of the blue to tow
Sands Nest
away. It had happened so quickly he hadn’t had time to catch his breath, let alone notify May.
He had to hope she would understand, because he was still bound by confidentiality.
‘Have you heard from your bloke yet?’ asked Betty on Wednesday afternoon as they were walking to the park with Joe in the pushchair.
‘No.’
‘You’d better get your dancing shoes on and get out there looking for someone else.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘Surely you’re not still hoping he’ll turn up?’
‘He might.’
‘Don’t make me laugh,’ her friend said cynically. ‘Honestly, May, you can be so naive at times.’
‘And you can be so hard.’
‘Realistic is what I am.’
‘Call me stupid if you like, but I honestly don’t think Doug would disappear without a very good reason.’
‘The good reason being that he wants out.’
‘Trample on my feelings why don’t you?’ said May sarcastically. ‘You can be such a cow at times, Betty.’
‘Just trying to make you face up to it,’ she said.
‘You’re not exactly an expert on men, seeing as you got yourself pregnant at fifteen.’
‘That’s plain bitchy.’
‘You asked for it,’ May retorted. ‘You’re quick to speak your mind to me but you don’t like it when I do it to you.’
‘Look, I don’t want you to mope about at home waiting for a man who obviously isn’t going to turn up.’
‘I am not moping about, as you put it, but I am certainly not going out looking for someone else at this stage.’
‘You’ll have to be an old maid then,’ said Betty.
‘I’m only nineteen; I don’t think I need to worry about that at the moment.’
‘Time soon passes, and there are plenty of blokes around in London at the moment. Soldiers, sailors and airmen.’
‘I don’t care if the entire armies of the world are at the Hammersmith Palais every night of the week. I’m not going,’ said May. ‘For all I know Doug might be involved in this Dunkirk rescue thing. They say civilian boats have been helping to get the troops off the beaches.’
Betty emitted a cynical laugh. ‘You’ve been seeing too many films,’ she said.
‘It could happen,’ argued May.
‘Nah. Not in a million years,’ disagreed Betty. ‘That’s the most far-fetched thing I’ve ever heard in my life. You’re just making excuses for him because you don’t want to face up to the truth.’
‘You can believe what you like,’ said May. ‘I’m not giving up on him yet.’
‘Oh well, that’s up to you,’ said Betty. ‘But if you don’t want to go to the Palais, why don’t you look after Joe while I go? One of us might as well make the most of all the servicemen who are around at the moment.’
‘Why would you want to do that when you have George?’ May was curious to know.
‘For a laugh, of course,’ Betty replied. ‘Just a bit of fun. You must have heard of it. It’s that stuff you are supposed to have when you are young.’
‘There’s no need to be sarky.’
‘Well you can be so serious sometimes, May, honestly.’
‘Yes, I can, and I’m being very serious when I say that I will never look after Joe for you while you go out looking for men,’ she stated categorically. ‘The pictures, yes, the Palais absolutely not. Not ever!’
‘All right, there’s no need to make such a flamin’ drama out of it,’ Betty objected. ‘Honestly, you are such a prude at times.’
‘Not a prude; just a good friend of your husband.’
‘Keep your hair on, girl,’ objected Betty. ‘I haven’t even asked you yet.’
‘Just making my position clear in advance, so make sure you remember it.’
‘I won’t forget, don’t worry.’
They arrived at the park and unstrapped Joe, who was off like a shot, his little legs moving like pistons as he ran around on the grass. Betty and May played ball with him for a while, then sat down on a bench watching him while he tore about on his own.
The two women moved on to other topics of conversation, amicable with each other. They had known each other far too long for any sort of umbrage to have lingered from their previous heated exchange.
A few days later May was stacking a pile of
Evening News
on the counter when she looked up to see Doug walking towards the Pavilion. She wasn’t particularly surprised. She had known in her heart he would turn up eventually, if only to say goodbye. He wasn’t the stuff rotters were made of.
‘Hello, stranger,’ she said.
‘Hello, May.’
She waited for an explanation.
‘Can you get ten minutes off?’ he asked.
‘Go on, dear,’ put in her mother, who was putting cigarette packets out on the shelf. ‘Go and sit on the veranda and I’ll bring you some tea.’