Authors: Catrin Collier
What had been a street when he’d gone into work, was now a smoking ruin. Blackened men in the boiler suits and tin hats of ARP wardens worked stolidly against a backdrop of dying flames and smouldering rubble.
‘They need help down at the FAP, mate.’
‘FAP?’ Haydn repeated dully.
‘First aid post. You all right, mate? Haven’t been hit by falling masonry or anything like that?’
‘Is it like this down by the river?’
‘Who knows? It’s as much as we can do to keep up with what’s happening here, without worrying about what’s happening down the road.’
Haydn’s only thought was of Jane and Anne. Turning on his heel he started to run, recklessly, blindly, in the direction of the flat he had left the afternoon before. He lost count of the number of times he was turned back at barricades that fenced off burning streets, bomb craters and UXB sites. The sun rose somewhere above the smoke and destruction, bathing what was left of the city in a pale, grey light that wasn’t as kind as the fire-lit darkness. People were crawling out of shelters into a sea of desolation and dereliction. He passed them, scarcely registering their pale, numbed faces as they searched for something – anything – that was unscathed and familiar. Ahead was a patch of green. He thought he recognised the park opposite his street. Quickening his pace he raced towards it.
When he reached the area he had to stop. Bending double he clutched his knees, fighting for breath. After a few moments he heaved himself upright, pushed his hair back from his eyes and ran his tongue over his lips. They were dry, covered with dust and ashes. He moved off again feeling as though he were struggling against elastic bands that bound his chest and tugged him back in the direction he had come from. His mind was suffused with images of Jane and the baby. All he could think of was reaching them and holding them tight. Two more steps. He rounded the curve that hid their block from view.
His heart stopped. His mind froze. He closed his eyes but when he opened them moments later nothing had changed. There it was again, the square, solid building that had been home, with the smashed roof and smouldering, skeletal walls that signalled a direct hit.
Alma woke with a start, opening her eyes to see the lamp still burning on her mother’s bedside table. She lifted her head from the eiderdown, straightened her back against the chair she’d slept in and read the clock. Six! She should have been up and supervising the baking in the kitchen of the shop an hour ago. She had no clear recollection of falling asleep, only her mother moaning every time she had tried to leave the room. Pain and confusion had kept the old lady awake for most of the night, but now that morning had finally arrived she lay quiet and peaceful. Alma checked she was still breathing before creeping out on to the landing. It was then she remembered Charlie – was he really home – or had she dreamed it?
She pushed open the door to the living room and saw her husband deep in sleep, stretched out on his easy chair, his feet resting on the brass log box she used to keep her knitting in. For the first time in her life she found herself actually resenting her mother’s frailty. If Charlie had mentioned how much leave he had been given, she couldn’t recall him telling her. His only free time in over a year and her mother had to be seriously ill.
The doorbell rang. Was that the sound that had woken her? Straightening her skirt and combing her curls with her fingers she closed the door softly behind her and tiptoed along the passage and down the stairs lest she wake either of the sleepers.
Bethan John was standing on the doorstep, neat in her district nurse’s uniform, her cousin Diana behind her.
‘We heard Charlie’s home.’
Alma opened the door wider to let them in. ‘He’s asleep upstairs,’ she whispered.
‘And you haven’t had a wink all night by the look of you?’ Bethan shook her head at the creased silk blouse and crepe skirt Alma had worn to the restaurant.
‘Mam was very restless,’ Alma murmured by way of an apology. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘We’re not here to make work, but to do it,’ Diana announced briskly. ‘I’m taking over the management of the shop and Bethan is going to look after your mother.’
‘But …’ Alma looked to Bethan in bewilderment.
‘It’s my day off, and after the news about Maud I’d rather be kept busy.’
‘What about your children?’
‘I’ve left mine with Phyllis, and Megan’s caring for Diana’s baby. It’s half-day in all the shops so Diana will easily cope, especially as Wyn’s offered to run their shops on his own. She’ll sit with your mother now while I take you and Charlie home.’
‘Home?’
‘To my house,’ Bethan answered.
‘I couldn’t leave Mam.’
‘You’ve a husband home on leave, or so Ronnie told us last night. I know he’s been away for a long time, but I didn’t think it was long enough to forget Charlie. Go on off with you. Pack a case. You can have a bath and change your clothes at my place. I don’t know how long Charlie’s got, but Liza Clark’s taken all my evacuees down to Phyllis’s for the day. The older ones are going to school from Graig Avenue, and Liza’s organised a picnic for the little ones, so you’ll have the house to yourself until teatime, and Maisie and Liza will see that the children don’t disturb you when they come home. They’ve been ordered to stay out of my bedroom and sitting room. It’s hardly the most romantic place to spend a leave, but it’s the best we can come up with at short notice.’
Bethan fell silent as Charlie appeared at the top of the stairs. He’d always been superbly fit, and while he’d run his butcher’s stall he’d developed muscles like a wrestler’s, but he was leaner than she remembered and harder, and there was a look in his ice-blue eyes that she hadn’t seen before. She recalled something her father had said when they had been worried about the boys at the time of Dunkirk. That wherever Charlie was, he wasn’t on the French coast. The war was proving difficult for all of them, but the strain mirrored on Charlie’s face told her that it was proving more difficult for him than most.
‘Is something wrong?’ Charlie asked.
‘Only that we’ve decided that you two should spend whatever leave you have at my house. It will give Alma the break she needs from caring for her mother. I’ll take over nursing Mrs Moore, and Diana will help in between looking after the shops.’
‘You’ve got good staff, they won’t need much supervising,’ Diana declared, minimising her own contribution.
‘I still don’t know whether I should leave my mother …’ Alma began doubtfully.
‘Penycoedcae is hardly the ends of the earth,’ Bethan reminded her. ‘If there is any change, or your mother comes round, I’ll drive up there and bring you down.’
‘You promise?’
‘I promise,’ Bethan agreed solemnly. ‘Come on, hurry up. Both of you look as though you could do with a good rest.’
Charlie hesitated but only for a moment. ‘I’ll get my kitbag.’
Alma went upstairs. She checked on her mother before throwing a few things into an overnight case. It was only when they were walking out through the door that she realised she still didn’t know exactly how much leave Charlie had been given.
‘Sorry, mate, this street is closed. You’ll have to walk around through Empress Avenue.’
‘You don’t understand!’ Haydn confronted the ARP warden who was standing guard over the ruined block.
‘You live here?’ the man asked with a gentleness that irritated Haydn more than his earlier refusal to allow him to pass.
‘Of course I bloody well live here. Why else would I be trying to get in?’
‘The walls are unstable. They’re likely to fall in at any moment, sir … sir … you can’t go in there …’
Haydn pushed the man aside and walked over the shattered, splintered remains of the front door and windows, into what had been the hallway of the block of flats. A crash was followed by a cloud of dust and ashes that billowed out over the expanse of rubble that covered the street. The warden put a whistle to his lips.
‘I couldn’t stop him, sir,’ he apologised to the senior officer who came running in response to his signal. ‘I tried – ’
A second crash sent the rescuers back choking, coughing and spluttering for breath. An ominous silence settled over the area, punctuated only by the creak of timbers, crackle of flames and distant screams and shouts.
‘Right, start digging,’ the senior officer commanded. ‘Anyone left in this house before that silly bugger went inside?’
‘We’re not sure, sir.’
‘Then ask someone! I’ve a feeling that this is going to be the usual story. Family safe in the nearest shelter while the idiot home on leave kills himself by rushing into a blitzed house.’ The senior warden looked at what was left of the building. It had been a long night, and it promised to be an even longer day. Taking off his helmet he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, then set to work.
‘Fourth right at the top of the stairs on the first floor. When I took in the evacuees I turned Andrew’s dressing room into a sitting room so I’d have somewhere quiet to retreat to when I needed it. It’s small but cosy, and it’s next door to the bedroom and bathroom. Maisie knows you’re coming, she’s already changed the bed and she’ll bring up breakfast.’ Bethan stopped the car on the gravel drive that swept round to the front door.
‘Where are you going to sleep?’ Charlie asked.
‘When I’m not with Alma’s mother, in my children’s room.’
‘I wanted to tell you how sorry I was about Eddie and Maud.’ He reached out for her hand, sympathy etched on his face and in his eyes, and she understood something of the pain Ronnie had felt at receiving so many condolences the night before.
‘Thank you, but if you don’t mind we’ll talk about them later, Charlie. How much leave have you got?’
‘Three days.’
‘They could have given you longer after all this time.’
‘Some men in my unit haven’t had any leave since the beginning. I’m lucky to get this much.’
Bethan turned to Alma in the back seat. ‘Then you’d better see he makes the most of it. You’re going back on Saturday morning, Charlie?’
‘First thing.’
‘If you don’t mind us taking up your time, we could have a small party here Friday night. I’ll invite Phyllis and my father, and anyone else you want to see. Think about it? Let me know tomorrow morning.’
‘I will, and thank you,’ he responded mechanically as he heaved his kitbag and Alma’s small case out of the car. Maisie must have heard them coming because the door was already open.
‘Mrs John said you’d be tired so I carried the toaster and chafing dishes up to her sitting room. There’s porridge, scrambled eggs, bread, blackberry jam and tea. It’s all ready. Would you like me to take your coats?’
‘Thank you, Maisie.’ Alma followed her into the house that Andrew John had bought for his wife when he had returned to Pontypridd after working in a London hospital. Bethan had altered it beyond all recognition during the last two years. The fine lawns had been dug up and turned into vegetable and potato gardens. The once elegant, tiled hall was awash with children’s coats, prams, bicycles and rubber boots. Answering the plea for homes for evacuees, Bethan had put her name down to take four, but the hard pressed authorities had prevailed on her good nature, and she had ended up with six, plus a young girl who helped her to keep the brood in order. The maid Andrew had engaged before the war had long since departed to earn four times what Bethan could afford to pay her in the munitions factory, so she had taken an unmarried mother, Maisie Crockett, from the workhouse to help out, and feeling sorry for her, had ended up with Maisie’s child as well. Three women and nine children, including Bethan’s two, made for a very full house, but there was no sign of anyone except Maisie.
‘Just stack the breakfast dishes when you’ve finished with them, Mrs Charlie. I’ll get them when I come in. It’s my morning for putting our order into Griffiths’ shop and Pegler’s Stores, so you’ll have the house to yourself until the children finish school, and even then they won’t come near Mrs John’s rooms,’ Maisie reassured them shyly as they walked across the hall.
‘Mrs John said Liza Clark had taken the children down to Graig Avenue.’ Alma glanced into what had been Andrew’s pride and joy, the spacious formal drawing room. Bethan had packed the best furniture into the old groom’s accommodation above the stables, and a threadbare, faded carpet, a couple of sagging sofas, and overflowing baskets of home-made wooden and rag toys were all the furnishings that adorned the once expensively decorated room.
‘The weather’s so fine, Mrs John thought the little ones would benefit from some fresh air. So Liza offered to take them over the mountain for a picnic.’ Maisie led the way up the stairs.
Alma was amazed at Bethan’s powers of organisation at such short notice, unless she’d sacrificed a quiet day she’d arranged for herself to Charlie’s unexpected leave.
All the windows in the house had been opened wide to the beautiful spring morning. She paused on the landing and gazed out over the fields. Barely two miles outside the town and they could have been in the heart of the countryside. The scent of apple and cherry blossom mixed with bluebells and newly ploughed earth wafted in on the warm, fresh air. Birds were singing. In the distance she could hear a dog barking and sheep bleating, and she suddenly realised that it had been a long time since she’d taken the leisure to enjoy the simple things in life.
Sensing Charlie waiting behind her she climbed up the final half a dozen steps. Bethan had been right. Andrew’s dressing room was tiny but, just as she’d promised, it was also cosy. Two small easy chairs stood either side of the window, a round table between them set with chafing dishes warmed by candles, an electric toaster, bread, jam, sugar, milk and a scraping of butter in a small pot that Alma hoped Charlie wouldn’t touch in case it was the last of Bethan’s ration. Charlie dropped his kitbag by the door and in two strides was at the window.
‘I’ll bring up the boiling water for the tea and anything else you want, then I’ll be off,’ Maisie said.
‘There’s no need to wait on us, Maisie, I know where the kitchen is.’
‘You sure, Mrs Charlie? Mrs John said you were to rest.’
‘We’ll be fine, Maisie. Thank you for all this.’
‘It was nothing. Besides, I enjoyed doing it.’ Maisie bristled with pleasure at the praise before closing the door.
Charlie unbuttoned his jacket and sank into one of the chairs as Alma went downstairs to get the water for the tea.
‘Seems to me Bethan has thought of everything,’ Charlie observed when she returned.
‘She always has been thoughtful, more so if anything since the war started. It can’t be easy, knowing Andrew’s stuck in a German prison camp for the duration and working as a district nurse. I don’t know how she does it. She has a houseful of evacuees as well as her own two children, and little Eddie’s only four months old.’ Alma was grateful to Charlie for mentioning Bethan. It was easier to talk about her than it was to talk about themselves.
‘There’s a new baby?’
‘Born seven months after Andrew was captured. She named him after Eddie. You got my letter?’
‘Yes.’
They fell silent, remembering Bethan’s brother Eddie had worked for Charlie in the shop and they had both been fond of him. His death fighting with the rearguard in Dunkirk was one piece of news she hadn’t kept from Charlie. She looked up at her husband, tracing the familiar lines of his face and features, thinking of all the nights she had lain awake dreaming of their reunion a moment just like this – and now that it had actually arrived, all she could do was sit in strained silence.
As she reached across the table to lift the lids on the chafing dishes, her hand accidentally brushed against Charlie’s. He jerked back as though he’d been scalded.
‘You’re not still angry with me over Ronnie?’ she asked, fighting back tears. Exhaustion and his sudden, unexpected return had made her vulnerable to emotions she usually kept firmly in check.
‘No.’
‘Bethan talked to you?’
He shook his head. ‘I saw the look on his face last night. Before Mrs Lane told me about Maud I thought it was because he’d seen me. You were right, he is heartbroken.’
‘As I’d be if anything happened to you,’ she whispered.
He picked up the tea she’d poured.