Gunner Girls and Fighter Boys (57 page)

The young man must have sensed her presence, for he opened his eyes. Looking into the sun and shielding them against the glare, he asked, ‘Are you looking for someone?’

‘I’m looking for you,’ she whispered and kneeled down so that he could see her.

In the instant their eyes met, the past three years disappeared. She cupped his hollow-cheeked face with her hands, and he leaned forward, a look of wonder on his face.

‘May? But how…’

She drew the sharp-boned, thin-skinned face towards her, and kissed him gently, almost fearful that he might break. The full lips she remembered were thinner now and as she closed her eyes, one hand moved to the back of his fragile neck, down his bony spine, across wing-like shoulder blades. There was so little left of him, he was barely here. But when she opened her eyes and looked again into his sea-blue eyes, brimming with tears, she saw him come back to her.

‘Bill!’ she whispered into his mouth and held him as tightly as she dared. ‘I’ve been looking for you for so long.’

Drawing back, he lifted the little sweetheart brooch with the angel’s wings, which she wore at her breast. ‘And I’ve been looking for you forever – my angel.’

Then clinging to each other, like two castaways who had found each other in a wide, lonely ocean, they wept tears of joy.

She felt Bill’s arms and legs trembling with the effort, as he tried to rise to his feet.

‘You’re too weak, Bill,’ she said, with a hand on his chest.

‘I’ve imagined this moment for so long, May, but I never saw myself in a wheelchair. I’m getting up.’

He leaned on her arm and walked beside her on stick-thin legs, keeping himself upright by willpower alone, until they had found some privacy in the lea of a lifeboat. There, with only the Indian Ocean to witness them, they held and kissed each other until the sun sank below the horizon and the night enfolded them in its star-filled brilliance.

November 1945–January 1946

To find Bill again had been miracle enough, but now they had each other all to themselves in this floating bubble, with no demands upon them, other than that Bill should follow the Red Cross nurses’ strict orders to rest and eat at the designated times. And so their days were filled with nothing other than falling in love again. The hospital ship became their new fairy ring.

Bill refused to return to his wheelchair and May walked with him, still leaning on her arm, every day a little further round the decks. As they walked, they talked themselves hoarse. May waited until the second day to ask how he’d come to be captured.

‘Didn’t the RAF tell you anything?’

‘Not a thing, Bill, just sent a telegram, saying you were missing in action. We didn’t even know if you were alive or…’ Her voice broke, and he put his arm round her.

‘But you still came looking for me.’

‘I never gave up! But it was hard, not knowing. I didn’t find out anything at all until I got posted to Chittagong. Then I met your pal, Colin.’

‘Colin! Bloody hell, he got back? Oh my God, I thought he’d copped it in the jungle. But how did you find him?’

‘Strangely enough that Canadian I used to know, Doug. He was based in Chittagong and he did some digging around for me…’

‘Well, sod me if he didn’t jump into my shoes as soon as I couldn’t be there to give him a right-hander!’

She laughed. ‘Don’t be jealous – he was only trying to help… He felt guilty, to tell you the truth. I didn’t see much of him at all. He was too busy flying sorties across the border.’

‘Well, he was doing a good job, so I won’t go on about him,’ Bill said, chastened. ‘And what did old Col have to say about the skirmish?’

May told him the little she knew. ‘He said you were separated after the Japs attacked the airfield, and that he wanted to go back for you but your sergeant said they had to push on.’

‘It was the right thing to do, probably saved their lives. I got nicked in the leg by a stray bullet – the Japs sprayed every inch of jungle and I was just the unlucky one. But I didn’t give myself up, May. I tried to get back… for you.’

She drew him in closer to her. ‘You must have been terrified, Bill.’

‘It wasn’t so bad in the day, but the jungle at night…’ He shuddered. ‘On that first day, after I lost track of the lads, I pushed on through the jungle. I had my pack, a compass and a silk map, walked to where I thought the rendezvous point was and when I got there – nothing. The boys were long gone. So I spent the first night trying to sleep up a bloody tree. Tied myself in. On the second day I met a young Burmese boy on the track. He took me to his village. They were good to me, May. Put some poultice on the leg and fed me rice, though they had sod all to eat themselves. I thought I could make it to the Indian border on my own, but the headman said no, go to the next village and they’ll give you more food. So the boy took me, but the Japs had got there first. It was full of ’em! So that was me, darling, shipped off to Changi Jail. Really, I should count myself lucky. It wasn’t the worst place to be, not according to the stories I’ve heard about other camps.’

May stared incredulously at him. ‘Bill! How can you say you’re lucky? You were half dead when you came out!’

He shook his head. ‘You think I was bad. Some of the blokes in that hospital had been up on the Burma railway, slave labour. Compared to that… well, at least we got rice every day, if only a sock full. But that, and dreaming about holding you again, kept me alive.’

‘Did you get my letters?’ she asked, realizing that she’d been asking most of the questions.

‘Not after I went into Changi, no.’ His voice was sad. ‘A letter from you… well, that would have been like every Christmas rolled into one. I drove myself mad wondering how you were.’

‘Can you remember what my last letter said?’

‘I got a bundle of them, would have been just before I went across to set up the airstrip in Burma. Took them with me to keep me going. May, I got the one about your dad. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, darling. That was the worst thing in Changi, not being able to let you know how much I was thinking of you.’

‘I knew you were thinking of me, Bill. Sometimes I even thought I heard you, when I’d go to our fairy ring and write my letters to you.’

‘It
was
me! Don’t tell anyone, they’d think I was bonkers, but one day, about six months after I got captured, I woke up in the jail and I thought, it’s spring in Hainault Forest! And I stared into the bamboo roof of the hut, and I could have sworn I was looking up into our tree, bright green leaves, English green, not jungle green, and there was a great big wood pigeon fluttering around in the branches. And I called out in my mind and I told you that I was still alive.’

‘I
knew
it was you!’ she said.

Then, for the thousandth time, he said, ‘To think you’re actually here!’

‘Do you want to pinch me, see if I’m real?’

‘I’d rather kiss you, then I’d really be certain.’ But their kisses were mostly saved for the night time, when they’d sit near the ship’s prow, watching the sun go down, telling each other stories and reclaiming the life that had been lost to the war.

It was almost as if they were courting again, though the venue was more exotic than Gant’s Hill Odeon. A couple of times a week there was a film show; out-of-date films mostly, but that was half the fun for May and Bill, reliving their first shy kisses at the back of the cinema, while missing half the action in
Now Voyager
. There were dances and, as Bill grew stronger, they even got their first long-dreamed of waltz together.

They were allowed to disembark at Port Said, and May made Bill laugh with her story of the Egyptian fisherman’s bare backside protruding over the dhow, her first introduction to Egypt. While the ship took on fuel, the POWs were sent to a depot on the quay to be fitted out with new winter uniforms. When he came out in his RAF blue, and took her arm, she felt as if she’d come home. They might be in Egypt but the feeling was as comforting and familiar as if they were in Southwark Park Road. It brought to mind the strange message which Peggy had sworn her dad sent her while she was beneath the ruins of their home: ‘Tell May,’ he’d said, ‘the further you fly, the nearer you get to home.’

She’d certainly travelled far, but it was only now that she understood it. Bill was her home.

*

Though the war might have finished with May, life had not. For after they entered the Mediterranean, the elements rose up against them, as if to show her that war was not the only challenge she would face in her life. Rain spattered the grey-painted deck as they took their evening walk around the ship. Soon the pale bulkheads were black with rising sea spray and rain. The deck beneath their feet became slippery and the wind rose, so that Bill had to shout. ‘Better go below, it’s getting rough!’

But the storm broke just as they turned back. Up till now their voyage had seen nothing but calm seas and smooth sailing. Within minutes the waves began to run higher than she’d ever seen them and the wind stung May’s face, as it came at them with a force that found her battling hard to stay upright.

Bill grabbed her round the waist and gripped a stanchion as the ship lunged into the trough of a massive wave. She knew that she should be terrified, but the roiling sea felt almost benign, compared to the high explosives and missiles she’d faced over the past six years. There was no evil intent behind this danger – it was just life, the elements, and May felt almost exhilarated. But Bill was not so strong as she, and lost his footing. His frame was still light enough to be sluiced along the deck and he grappled for a handhold while she made a grab for him, as another even higher wave crashed over the bow. Her wet hand clung to his for an instant, but then the boat heaved, sending her sprawling along with Bill, down the deck, which was now at an alarmingly steep angle. As they slid towards the deck edge she caught the tail of his RAF tunic and threw herself across him, rolling herself round him as if they were a magic carpet, until they reached the safety of the bulkhead. She braced her feet against a locker and they clasped each other, unable to get up, unable to escape the lashing of the storm.

‘I’m not losing you again!’ she shouted into his ear and the howling wind whipped away her words. But she knew he had heard them, for blue lips parted and he answered, ‘Never!’

But as the boat took another dive into the heart of a wave, the jarring onslaught slammed her head back against the steel bulkhead and she felt her grip loosen. She began to slip away from him.

*

Pain. When she awoke, it was as if a red-hot darning needle had been inserted into her right temple and some unseen hand was patiently working it through to the other temple. An evil seamstress was sewing one side of her head to the other. But she knew that couldn’t be right. More pain. She let out a yelp as she tried to uncurl a leg, which for some reason was twisted beneath her and bolted to the deck by an icicle. No. She shook her head to clear her mind and wished she hadn’t as a thousand stars exploded behind her eyes. Everywhere else was pitch-black. It was better to stay perfectly still. Then she remembered Bill.

She ignored the burning gimlet and the freezing icicle, and forced herself to her knees. Whimpering with pain, she felt her way forward along the chill, hard surface, and, sweeping her hands in a double arc around her, edging into the blackness, she called his name.

‘Bill! Bill! Are you there?’

Now she remembered. The storm. The two of them rolled together, clinging on for dear life, and she’d let him slip away. No! She wouldn’t have it. She thought her leg must be broken, for it gave way as she tried to put weight on it. Instead, with the ridged metal of the deck grating her knees, she pulled herself inch by inch towards the dim light of a cabin window. A fine rain was still visible in the glow, but the wind had dropped. Now she called again.

‘Help! Anybody, help me.’

She was alone. How could she have let him slip away again! He must have gone overboard, otherwise he would be here, by her side. She groaned and lay down, with her cheek crushed against the deck, giving into its cold kiss. Gradually she felt herself letting Bill go. ‘We weren’t meant to be,’ she said softly to herself. ‘Granny Byron knew it would come to this: she said I would cross water and she said there’d be two men in uniform…’ And though May wracked her burning brain, she couldn’t remember if her grandmother had ever promised she would marry either of them.

She didn’t know how long she’d been lying there. It might have been hours; it might have been days. But just as she felt ready to sleep forever, she suddenly felt herself being lifted up. Arms slipped beneath her and she felt the warmth of another body.

‘I’m here, darling, I’ve got you.’

She wished she could remember what Granny Byron had predicted. Aware that her mind was fuzzy and her speech slurred, she said, ‘Am I meant to marry you?’ and she heard a laugh, close against her cheek, as he staggered with her towards the cabin light.

‘You are definitely meant to marry me!’

Only later did May discover that Bill had nearly gone overboard with the last big wave, but, managing to grab a rope on a lifeboat cover, he had hauled himself back along the deck to her. How he had found the strength she would never know, but it seemed the risk of losing her again had helped him find an energy he didn’t realize he had. After a week in the infirmary recovering from hypothermia, and a severe sprain for May, Bill pressed the point.

‘May, I don’t think we should wait,’ he told her, as they left the infirmary together.

‘Mum will go up the wall, you do know that, don’t you?’ she said.

‘I’ll take the blame,’ Bill said. ‘Besides, you told me there’s nothing left of Dockhead Church, so we couldn’t get married there anyway!’

‘There’s a hut in the convent grounds…’

Bill put his hand over hers, which was linked through his arm. ‘We’ll have a blessing in the hut then,’ he said firmly. ‘But I am not getting off this ship until we’re married.’ He hesitated an instant. ‘That’s if you’re sure you want me.’