Far From Home (2 page)

‘It’s not easy for me either,’ Polly replied softly. Tears threatened again as her mother squeezed her fingers. ‘I can’t do this, Mum. I can’t let Alice go.’

All three children were wide-eyed with curiosity as Polly’s tears began to fall. Enid rounded the table, fed Alice the last of her porridge, wiped her face clean and helped her down. ‘Run along and play with Sam and Will in the other room, there’s a good girl.’

She shooed them out of the kitchen and closed the door firmly. ‘We’ve been through this umpteen times, Polly. There’s no point in wavering now. We’re leaving, and that’s an end to it.’

‘But I can’t let her go. I don’t want any of you to go. It’s too dangerous.’

‘Nonsense. The government wouldn’t have organised the Children’s Overseas Reception Board if they thought we were in any danger.’ Enid sat next to her and took her hands again. ‘The convoys have been leaving on a regular basis for Canada, South Africa, even Australia and New Zealand, and every one of them has been escorted by the Royal Navy and got through unscathed. There are to be nineteen ships in our convoy. It will be no different for us.’

‘But the war has escalated. The supply convoys are being bombed in the Channel; there are raids on London and all the important docks and factories. They’ve even started targeting the farms to ruin the harvest. How can you
possibly
be certain they won’t attack a convoy crossing the Atlantic?’

‘I can’t guarantee anything,’ Enid replied softly, ‘but it surely won’t be more dangerous than living right on the coast and in the direct flight path to London?’ She pushed back her chair and reached for the packet of Woodbines which rarely left her side. ‘Adam needs you, Polly, probably more than Alice at the moment, and your nursing skills have never been so important.’ She lit a cigarette and blew a stream of smoke to the ceiling, clearly frustrated by this endless argument which had gone round in circles for weeks.

‘I know all that,’ Polly said with a tremulous sigh, ‘but having to choose between my husband and child is impossible.’

Enid was staring out of the window at the suburban street and the line of houses opposite, her small, neat figure ramrod straight in her lightweight two-piece suit. ‘Sometimes we don’t get the luxury of choice at all,’ she murmured. ‘If your father hadn’t had that fatal heart attack we’d still be living on the farm, out of harm’s way, doing our bit for the war effort. As it is, Blackthorn Farm has new tenants and Megan and I are about to leave everything we’ve ever known to ensure the safety of our little family. You could come too – your nursing skills would be welcome – but your place is with your husband now – his needs must come first.’

Polly dipped her chin and toyed with the teaspoon, her unsteady hand making it rattle in the saucer. She’d heard all the arguments before, had gone over and over them in her head until she thought she’d go mad – and although she knew her mother’s advice couldn’t be faulted, she simply couldn’t bear the thought of parting with Alice. ‘What if Alice gets sick or has an accident and I’m not there? I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to her – or to any of you for that matter.’

‘What if you abandon Adam and he dies without ever seeing you again?’ Enid turned from the window, hands on hips, expression stern. ‘I’m sorry to be so abrupt, Polly, but I’ve had enough of this. You’ve made your choice, the arrangements are in place. Alice is coming with me, and you’re going to Cliffehaven to be with Adam.’ She stubbed out the cigarette with vigour and grabbed the discarded apron. ‘And if you start crying again,’ she said tremulously, ‘it will start me off. So I’d be obliged if you’d pull yourself together and help me with this blasted washing-up.’

Polly resolutely fought her tears and reached for the tea towel. Her mother was right, she admitted silently. Whether it broke her heart or not, she had to accept the fact that Alice and the rest of her family would be leaving within hours for Liverpool and the ship that would take them to Canada and a new life.

The shouts of the porters, the raised voices and the great exhalations of steam from the engines echoed in the vast concourse and resounded off the huge glass and steel roof as Enid found a porter to stow their luggage on a trolley and guide them to the correct platform.

The station was a hub for travelling to all points of the country, and now it was busier than ever with troop trains and arriving evacuees. Kitbags, suitcases and trolleys loaded with luggage and wooden cages housing live chickens only served to hamper the pedestrians.

It was market day, and the confusion was increased when a flock of sheep strayed on to the concourse from the street. To shouts of encouragement from the amused onlookers, the red-faced shepherd and bewildered sheepdog tried to round them up. The unwanted help of several over-eager Australian soldiers merely made things worse, and it was some time before the poor shepherd managed to round up his flock and get it safely back outside.

The children thought this was great fun, and it took all Megan’s determination to stop the boys from joining in the fray.

‘Look, Mummy,’ piped Alice, jumping up and down in delight. ‘That one’s come back.’ She giggled as the ewe hurtled on to the concourse and barged through a knot of chattering women who scattered with cries of alarm as they tried to keep their balance, and their dignity.

Polly could see the humour in the situation, but her smile was fixed, her face muscles already aching from the effort. She watched as a brawny Australian made a grab for the animal and successfully hauled it up and carried it outside to shouts of ‘Good on yer, mate,’ from his comrades. From everything she’d heard about the Anzac troops’ antics, she was surprised the ewe hadn’t been smuggled into a kitbag and taken off to be prepared for a clandestine feast.

‘Now the fun’s over, we’d better get to your train. It’s due to leave in ten minutes.’ The middle-aged porter grasped the handle of his trolley and they followed meekly in his wake.

‘Are you coming on the train, Mummy?’ Alice looked up at her, blue eyes wide and suddenly uncertain.

‘Not this time,’ she murmured, clutching the small hand. ‘Mummy’s got to go and see Daddy. But Grandma and Aunt Meg will look after you until I get back.’

Alice’s bottom lip began to tremble, and to forestall tears, which would only make her feel worse, Polly lifted her up and settled her on her hip. ‘Look at the trains,’ she said brightly, determined to distract her. ‘Isn’t it exciting? And see how the steam’s coming out of that funnel! Shall we go and watch the man stoking the fire?’

‘Don’t want to.’ Alice buried her head in Polly’s shoulder.

‘That’s all right,’ she soothed. ‘And anyway, it’s better we find you a lovely seat on your very own train, isn’t it?’

Alice didn’t reply, but buried her face deeper into Polly’s neck. Polly kept walking, every step taking her closer to the platform at the far end of the concourse, every breath more shallow as her heart clenched and her chest tightened. She wanted this moment to be over – but then she wished it could last forever. It was as if she was in a dream, a terrible dream that she longed to wake from.

With Alice heavy in her arms, she swiftly bought a platform ticket and followed the others through the barrier. Her steps slowed as Megan and Enid identified their luggage from the pile on the porter’s trolley and orchestrated its placement in the guard’s van.

Alice clung more tightly to her neck. ‘I want you to come with me,’ she muttered. ‘Don’t wanna go with Grandma.’

Polly kissed her cheek and set her on her feet. She straightened the child’s overcoat, tugging at the velvet collars and making sure the buttons were all done up against the chill sweeping along the platform. ‘Grandma will be really sad if you don’t go with her,’ she said softly, not quite able to meet those wide blue eyes. ‘And what about Sam and Will? Surely you don’t want to miss all the fun they’ll be having, do you?’

Alice thought about this for a moment and finally shook her head, making the curls bounce.

‘Good girl,’ Polly managed, fighting back her tears, desperately trying to keep her voice light and unwavering. ‘Now, let me say bye-bye to everyone, and then we’ll find you a lovely seat on this great big train. When you’re settled, Auntie Megan has a special treat for you.’

The child’s face brightened. ‘What is it?’

‘You’ll find out in a minute.’ Polly wanted to scoop her up and hold her, breathe in her scent, feel that sturdy little warm body against her own for one last time. But if she did, she knew she would find it even harder to let her go. She turned to the twins instead and, much to Meg’s annoyance, ruffled their hair. ‘Be good,’ she said with mock sternness. ‘And remember to send me a postcard now and again.’

The boys nodded bashfully and hastily clambered aboard the train, jostling to get to the window seat first.

‘I’m sorry I was sharp this morning,’ said Megan as she drew Polly into her arms. ‘But this isn’t easy for me either. I’ll take care of Alice, don’t fret.’

Polly nodded, unable to speak for the tearful lump that was growing in her throat. She clung to her sister, regretting the sharp words and small resentments that had coloured their relationship over the years. She loved her, would miss her horribly.

‘Take care, Meg,’ she managed finally, as she handed over the three bags of farthing chews.

Meg’s eyes were bright with tears as she gave her one last hug and took Alice’s small hand. ‘I’ll write,’ she said hoarsely.

Polly watched helplessly as Megan gathered up Alice and took her on to the train. Blinking rapidly, she fought the tears as Alice perched on the seat and immediately began to open her bag of sweets. It seemed her child was quite content, unaware of the importance of this heartbreaking moment.

The guard blew his whistle, and the doors began to slam like a salvo of rifle shots along the length of the train. Polly crushed Enid to her. ‘There are so many things I wanted to say to you, Mum, but now the time has come, I can’t think straight. But I love you, Mum, and I’m going to miss you terribly.’

‘I love you too, Polly. That’s all that needs to be said.’ Enid withdrew gently from Polly’s fierce embrace. ‘Stay safe, darling, and give my love to Adam when you see him. Your Uncle Peter will look after all of us, so don’t fret, and, as soon as we arrive, I’ll write you a long letter.’

‘Don’t let Alice forget me,’ Polly pleaded.

‘I won’t, I promise. The photographs are in my handbag.’ With tears in her eyes, she gave Polly a last, fleeting kiss and turned abruptly away.

Polly felt isolated among the swirl of activity on the platform as she gazed at those beloved faces at the open window. She wanted to reach out and touch them one more time – to say all the things she’d meant to say. But it was too late. The guard’s whistle was blowing again, its shrill command ringing through the station and into her head. The train jolted and steam gushed in a billowing white cloud along the platform, obliterating everything in its path.

The great iron wheels began to turn, slowly at first, but gathering speed, making her break into a run to keep up with them as she shouted her last farewells.

‘Bye, Polly,’ shouted the twins in unison as they leant out of the open window and waved frantically. Megan was holding Alice, encouraging her to wave too as Enid blew Polly a kiss. But Alice had realised suddenly what was happening. She was crying, wrestling to be free of Megan, reaching out for her mother, her little face screwed up in anguish.

Polly was sobbing now, the tears running unheeded down her face as she came to an abrupt halt at the end of the platform. The train whistle blew twice as the last of the long snake of carriages emerged from beneath the vast glass roof and began to speed down the track, around the bend and out of sight.

‘Huh-hem.’

Polly dragged her gaze from the empty horizon and turned to find the burly porter waiting beside his trolley. He looked neither surprised nor self-conscious at her tears, and she assumed he’d seen far too many over the past year to be affected by them any more. She scrabbled in her coat pocket for her handkerchief and hastily wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘Sorry,’ she said, although she didn’t really know why she was apologising.

He tugged on the shiny bill of his railway cap, his expression not unkind. ‘The train to Gloucester is already boarding, Miss. We need to get a move on if you don’t want to miss it.’

Glad to have something else to occupy her, Polly took one fleeting glance back down the empty track before hurrying after him.

THE BASEMENT OF
Beach View Boarding House had once provided bedrooms for Peggy Reilly’s two young sons and her father-in-law, Ron, who now lived down there in solitary squalor among his jumble of hunting, fishing and military paraphernalia with his dog, Harvey. The boys had been sent to the West Country for the duration, and every time Peggy had to do the weekly wash in the basement scullery it merely reinforced her longing for them to come home. But the war had suddenly taken a more dangerous turn, and despite her aching need to see them again, she knew they were far safer where they were.

Peggy didn’t have the luxury of a washing machine, or one of those newfangled spin dryers, so washday involved a great deal of scrubbing, rinsing and wringing. As for Harvey sleeping on Ron’s bed, she’d given up complaining. They all had enough to contend with without her making a fuss over something she knew would never change. At least he didn’t have the ferrets any more – Cleo and Delilah had been released into the wild once the air raids began.