Authors: Millie Gray
Billy too was dreaming. His thoughts were of what his homecoming would have been like if Violet, his childhood sweetheart, had only stayed faithful and waited for him. He sighed as he admitted to himself, “She’s no longer a virgin though. Didn’t keep herself pure for me as she promised.” He looked disdainfully at his blackened toes and spindly, scabby legs. “I’m hardly what she’d call a catch now. And I suppose that now she’s a mother there’ll be no place in her life for a wreck like me.”
Fred too was thinking but his thoughts weren’t of home. He’d joined the army because there hadn’t been much of a home life for him except with his younger sister Eileen. He gazed upon the silent thoughtful group who’d been his family for these last five years. Their welfare, he admitted, had been all-important to him – trying to do his best for them; keeping them alive; keeping their spirits up – that was what had kept Fred going when it would have been easier to throw in the towel. What now? Would he ever be able to live an ordinary life without these men? Tears came to Fred’s eyes. This was the soft side of Fred, the tough soldier who could make the most distasteful of decisions and get on with it, always provided it was in the best interests of
his
men!
At 10pm precisely, on 2 May 1945, the first of the liberating American army entered the Stalag. Fred and his men ran from their huts to greet them. Then they fell to their knees, raised their hands towards heaven and shouted, “Freedom! Freedom! Freedom! At last we’re free.”
The Americans, who (it was wildly rumoured) were always amply supplied with food, chocolate and nylons – though what use nylons would be on the front line was anybody’s guess – were delighted not only to liberate the men but also to put an end to their many privations.
On 10 May 1945, two days before the official end of the Second World War, the men had their last view of Germany, when the aeroplane carrying them home circled high above the flattened cities beside the river Rhine. As they looked down upon the devastation, no one shed a single tear for any German soldier, woman or child who had suffered from the ruin inflicted on them by the Allies.
By 11 May 1945 the men were safely installed at Worthing Camp where showers, toothpaste and brushes, clothes and medical treatments were freely available to them for the first time in five years.
As was to be expected, Billy quickly suggested to one of the nurses that he was quite unable to wash himself without physical assistance. “No problem,” was her reply as she promptly called on a six-foot, fourteen-stone male orderly to carry out the task!
There was not a single person living in Restalrig Circus or the surrounding area who had not made some contribution to the street party on VE Day to celebrate the ending of the war.
The children could hardly contain their excitement as they watched the long trestle tables, borrowed from the YMCA, being set up in the square just outside the gates to the allotments. The tables were then decorated with crêpe paper and every family had donated sandwiches, baked scones or fairy cakes – while it was rumoured that lemonade and red cola would flow like rivers. Even Ice Cream Johnny, who had been let out of custody since he was no longer considered a threat to national security, was going to put in an appearance on his ice cream cart. And every child was to be given a penny ice cream cone smothered in raspberry sauce!
So far as they could (because new clothes still required clothing coupons), the mothers had dressed the children up. Some looked quite comical in dresses and trousers that were either too big or too small for them. But most of the girls had brightly coloured crêpe paper bows adorning their hair and all the boys sported school ties.
The excitement was reaching fever pitch as the children took their places on the wooden benches and began to stuff as much food as they could into their mouths.
“Great to see them all enjoying themselves. At last we can be sure they won’t be blasted to smithereens in any air raid,” Patsy remarked to Dinah.
Dinah, who was holding young Joe tightly in her arms, simply nodded.
“You no pleased the blinking war is over?”
Dinah silently nodded again. “Oh, Mammy, just think. Next week at this time Tam could be home.”
“Aye, and is that no what we all want – especially you and his mother Mary?”
“But Mammy, what about wee Joe here? I mean, how do I explain him away? There’s no way he won’t eventually find out that I’m his mammy.”
Patsy looked at her daughter, thinking shouldn’t she have thought about that when she’d started cavorting with a … She was about to say “black GI” but, as was usual with her, she softened it to “coloured soldier” – or had it been an airman? Didn’t matter anyway. The man was long gone and had no intention of coming back. “Look,” she said after a long pause, “how about me taking Joe to bide with me? That way he won’t be a constant reminder to Tam of your …” Here she paused, trying to find a more descriptive word than infidelity.
Sensing her mother’s dilemma, Dinah spat out, “Whoring?”
“Precisely! But
you
said it. Not me.”
“No. Joe is mine and no matter what price I have to pay I’m keeping him by me.”
“Think, my lassie, that cost might be beyond even what …”
Before she could finish, Senga ran up to them. “Quick, Mammy, give me Joe. He’s to be at the party too.” With that, Senga grabbed Joe from her mother and carried him over to the table she’d just left.
“Funny how quickly Senga has taken to Joe. Proper little mother she is to him,” observed Dinah.
“Aye,” mused her mother. “You never see her now except he’s with her. I think he’s filled the gap that Phyllis’s passing left!”
An uneasy silence had fallen on the occupants in all the carriages of the special train they’d boarded at Kings Cross Station in London. Every seat was taken by those very special travellers – ordinary men, who had done the extraordinary and stayed behind in France so that their comrades waiting on the beaches of Dunkirk could be rescued and taken safely back to Britain. Those who had reached safety in this way were able to take up the fight again in 1944 and, aided by the Americans, eventually gained the hard-fought victory – the triumph that thankfully had secured the release of those men now on the train.
All the passengers seemed afraid to look at one other. They rubbed their hands together, whistled quietly, stamped their feet and did anything to ease the apprehension they felt as they waited for the guard to blow his whistle and signal that the train was free to depart. Only then could they definitely feel they were on their way home!
As the train trundled its sluggish way through England, the periods of silence gave way to playful banter (much of it unprintable) when the conversation would centre around what they would all be doing this time tomorrow! All took part except Eddie, who was full of doubts. He couldn’t bear to think about tomorrow until he had got through today. He sat, staring dumbly out of the window, noting the names of the English towns and cities as they flashed by him. To keep his panic in check he imagined that the wheels of the train were saying, “We’re going home. We’re going home. We’re going home. Betty’s waiting. Betty’s waiting. Betty’s waiting.”
Suddenly he saw it – the sign he had longed to see for five years. Turning to his companions, he yelled, “Boys, we’re o’er the border. D’ye hear? We’re o’er the border, lads. I’ve just seen the sign that says ‘Scotland’!”
“You mean we’re back in God’s own country?” asked Andy Young, punching the air jubilantly.
Eddie nodded. Silence fell again in the carriage. No one could speak. After a while all that could be heard were the quiet sobs of grown men.
The train had not quite ground to a halt on 13 May 1945, at Edinburgh’s Waverley Station, when the carriage doors burst open and the occupants jumped down to the platform to be greeted by their waiting relatives.
Eddie just couldn’t believe that not only was Betty there to welcome him but so were her mother and her granny! Billy too was surprised when Violet came running along the platform waving to him and shouting, “I’m here, Billy. Your Mammy’s waiting at hame. She hasn’t stopped crying since we heard you were on your way back. And look! There’s your Dad.” Billy didn’t embrace Violet but he did run up to his father who was hobbling towards them with the aid of a walking-stick. As they embraced, Billy thought how old his Dad had become. But he knew his Mum and Dad adored him and no doubt not having seen him for five years and wondering how he was faring had taken their toll.
Tam had to push his way through the crowds to get to Dinah, his own Dinah, who appeared to him more beautiful than Lana Turner – but then Lana Turner was only a film star and not his wife! So Dinah should seem lovely to him. After all, she’d spent hours on her appearance – she’d even had White’s the hairdresser in the Kirkgate give her a Marcel wave. But, being an expert on cosmetics, she had done the make-up herself and of course her stunning legs were sheathed in a pair of her best sheer nylons that she’d kept specially for this day. “You alone?” Tam asked as he scanned the crowds, hoping to see his mother or some of his children.
“Not quite. No show without Punch!” replied Dinah, pointing with a backward jerk of her thumb.
Tam was now faced with greeting his father, Jack Glass. He knew he should be flattered that his Dad had given up an afternoon at the pub with his drinking cronies but somehow he felt nothing for this man who really was a stranger to him. “How goes it, son?” Jack asked.
“Fine. Just want to get hame to my family and all will be well.”
Jack gave a cynical snigger before withering Dinah with a disparaging look. “Ah well, I suppose you best hear it from me …”
Tam was about to say, “Hear what?” when he noticed that Fred was leaving the platform alone. It appeared no one had come to meet him but, just as Tam was about to run after him and invite him home, a young attractive woman, whom Tam instinctively knew was Fred’s sister Eileen, pushed her way out of the crowd calling, “Fred. Fred! Wait for me.”
Jack tried to talk to Tam again and again but Dinah always managed to steer Tam’s attention towards herself and finally she whispered to Jack, “I know why you came here today but you won’t win. And another thing! I’m paying for a taxi to take us home. You’re welcome to ride with us provided you keep your malicious trap shut!”
On reaching Restalrig Circus, Tam was not disappointed. His mother, Mary, and Dinah’s mother, Patsy, were both at the gate waving flags, and all his children were out on the pavement. Oh gosh, he thought, how they’ve grown in five years. Now who’s who? The willowy, attractive peroxide blonde just had to be his seventeen-year-old Tess. She was so like Dinah had been at that age – the very age when Tam had been smitten by her. As he cradled Tess in his arms, he felt a tug at his sleeve and looked down at the little girl standing there. She was one of his – but was she Senga or Elsie? “I’m Elsie,” the little girl announced, putting an end to his wondering.
“And I’m Johnny,” the gangling young man with the broken voice butted in.
Tam released Tess and shook Johnny’s hand vigorously before lifting Elsie up and kissing her while he fondled her hair. But what about the others? A diffident young lassie, standing by his mother, smiled to him and he knew instantly that she was Senga. Putting Elsie down, he went over and took both his mother and Senga into his arms. “Good to be home. Good to see you all. I missed you all so much,” he mumbled. Then he looked about. There was no bed-chair. Only a trestle table set for a lavish tea. Where was Phyllis hiding? “Where’s my Phyllis?” he asked, starting to walk towards the bedroom.
“Oh no!” came the chorus from Dinah, Mary and Patsy.
Tam stopped and turned to face the women. “Oh, Tam, I wrote and told you … that she had died.”
“Died?” he cried.
“Yes. I wrote and told you. Away back – it was the Christmas of 1941 that the wee soul passed away,” Dinah protested. “Did you no get the letter?”
Tam shook his head. He gasped for breath. Mary went over and made him sit down and then, with her arm around his shoulder, she whispered in his ear, “Tam, my son, the bairns have prepared this party for you. Dinnae greet the noo. Try and haud it thegither. The pair o’ us will weep thegither the morn.” Tam breathed in deeply and raised his head. It was then he saw Etta with a wee boy seated on her knee. “And who’s he?”
“Mine,” Etta replied with pride.
“Right wee smasher he is too,” observed Tam.
Then he saw Joe. “And who do you belong to?” he asked the other small boy who was cheekily beaming in his direction.
“He’s mine,” Senga answered before anyone could say a word. “A gift from God he is.”
Tam leaned back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling. Surely, he argued, his own precious daughter, who was only thirteen, couldn’t be the mother of a toddler!
“Look, let’s just get on with the welcome-home party,” interjected Dinah. “And who belongs to who we can sort out tomorrow.”
Patsy nodded her agreement to Mary and both silently acknowledged that tomorrows had a habit of arriving all too soon.
After the welcome home, everyone, except for Tam, either went home or to bed. Tam had urged Dinah to retire, saying he would follow as soon as he could calm all the many emotions he was experiencing.
First, he helped Johnny take down the bed-settee. Then he settled himself in the easy chair and as he watched his sixteen-year-old son quickly fall asleep he realised just what he, and indeed his children, had been cheated of. Feelings that he had had to hold in check during the five years of his captivity were now swamping him. He couldn’t stop his thoughts turning to his beloved Phyllis and all he wished was to weep for her. He accepted that the others had gone through their period of grieving and by now they’d grown used to her not being with them – but he had just learned of her death. It felt as if his heart had been pierced with a dagger and that his life-blood was oozing from him. He was now grateful for the dusky twilight because he wanted no one to see the gentle relief brought to him by the tears cascading down his cheeks.