Authors: Millie Gray
‘No,’ replied Kate as they arrived in the living room, ‘my mother says we are safer under this solid table. So put the clock down and dive under it with me.’
Once Hans was under the table beside Kate she realised how close they were lying together. So close that she could feel the heat of his body and the beat of his heart, which in itself was causing her heart to pound. Her discomfort was then compounded when a sudden burst of gunfire and the drone of aeroplanes above the house frightened her so much that she began to tremble.
Instinctively Hans started to rub her arm in an effort to calm her. She swallowed hard before stammering, ‘Thank you, Mr … Hans … And do you know I have never heard you speak very much about where you once lived and what brought you here?’
Hans’s immediate response was to stop rubbing Kate’s arm. Then, speaking very quietly, he gripped her right hand and his thumb gently stroked the inside of her palm and fingers. ‘You, Miss Anderson, think that the air raid raging outside is just awful. But I tell you this: Warsaw, the city where I was born, was reduced to rubble by continual and callous bombardments. I also say with conviction that no matter how many blitzes there are here in Britain or were in France, Holland or anywhere, they will never ever meet the intensity and total destruction that Warsaw endured. Merciless it was, and everything I held dear perished in the ruins.’
Kate wanted to say something to comfort Hans, but what? Unaware of her dilemma he continued, ‘And what, you will be wondering, was the fate of my family? Ah well, my gentle, loving and faithful wife, my two sons with so much promise, my doting parents and siblings – all perished on the same night. Wiped out completely in the fury that was unleashed on us … innocent unprotected civilians. I only survived that night because … To be truthful I don’t know why I survived, and at the time, I truly wished I hadn’t. Believe me it was more difficult then to go on living than it was to die. All that kept me going was my desire for vengeance. The next day I made my way to link up with a cousin at Gdansk and we made our escape by a fishing boat. Now I wait because I do know that somehow my God will assist me to come to terms with what has happened to Poland and He will make sure that she rises from the ashes. But now, Miss—’
‘Please, Hans, I am your friend, so call me Kate.’
‘Kate it is then, and as I was saying, now I will remain here and try to make a new life for myself.’
Another blast made Kate shriek in terror before she buried her head in Hans’s shoulder. Drawing her closer into him, Hans gently purred, ‘There, there.’ These words of comfort had a relaxing effect on Kate. No longer did she feel, in any way, that he was invading her privacy. Indeed she was pleased, very pleased, that he was now so close to her that she could smell his manliness. It was a pleasing odour that awakened longings within her – tempting longings that she thought she would never experience again.
When Bobby was escorted home by Kitty and Jack to his old home at Restalrig, he was surprised to find when they entered the house that it was standing-room only. It turned out that Davy, who hero-worshipped Bobby, had thought that his ‘big brave brother’ should be welcomed home with a Hogmanay-type party.
Unfortunately the over-long and tedious journey from Liverpool had completely exhausted not only Bobby, but Kitty and Jack as well. All that the trio wished to do, as Bobby declared, was have a plate of good old Scottish broth, a quick wash and then collapse down on a bed. Thanks to Kitty, who was not afraid to speak her mind, within an hour everybody, with the exception of Granny Jenny and Aunty Kate, got the message and they left, promising to return within the next few days when Bobby would be feeling more in a party mood.
It was then that Kitty decided she was going to bed to get some rest. She was just about to leave when she looked around the room. Something wasn’t quite right. Someone who should have been in the house when she arrived home was not. That someone was Connie. Turning around she looked directly at her father and asked, ‘Why was Connie not invited to the party? She isn’t ill or anything?’
Johnny bowed his head and he had the grace to blush before saying, ‘She’s fine. It’s just that now that Robb’s are taking on women as apprentices …’
‘Are you that short of boys?’ Bobby chuckled.
‘Yeah we are. So Connie has decided to advance herself and she starts her apprenticeship tomorrow.’
‘Which trade is she going to train for?’ queried a derisory Jenny, who felt that life was changing too fast and women becoming tradesmen was further proof of that.
‘Plumbing!’
‘Plumbing, Dad?’ Kitty exclaimed. ‘But she likes to smell nice. What I mean is, she always smells like Jenners’ perfume counter, so how will she cope with … Oh no, it doesn’t bear thinking of!’
When Kitty got into bed she firstly pushed Rosebud further over so that she could stretch herself out. Sleep should have come immediately but there was something bothering her about her father and Connie. As she tossed and turned she wondered why her dad was so eager to say that Connie hadn’t turned up at the party because she was going to be on early duty in the morning. Early starts had never stopped Connie in the past from being the life and soul of any get-together.
Once Johnny, Jack and Davy were up and away to work the next morning, Kitty thought she would look in on Bobby to see if there was anything he needed. Or more importantly she couldn’t wait to hear the full and true story from him about how he had managed to get himself engaged to Harriet Wales, who in Kitty’s opinion was an intimidating and dominating Welsh lassie.
Pushing open the door as quietly as she could, Kitty was dumbfounded to see that Bobby was up and about. She breathed in deeply and grimaced when she witnessed how difficult it was for him to get himself dressed.
‘Bobby, why are you out of bed? And what on earth are you doing?’
‘Firstly, who in our family has ever been for lying in bed? Secondly, and more importantly, I want to go out and speak to Mum.’
‘Mum?’ Kitty exclaimed. She was sure without suggesting it to him that he was suffering from some sort of delayed concussion.
‘What I mean is, I want to visit her grave and just speak to her.’
Kitty gasped. Her eyes rolled.
Bobby continued. ‘Try and understand,’ he explained, ‘that before I left to join the Merchant Navy I went to Seafield cemetery to speak to Mum and tell her what I was doing and why. But I couldn’t, because you were there blubbering and bawling like a bad-tempered baby.’
Kitty snorted. ‘I go there to speak to Mum every week and tell her of any problems that I think she should know about. And if you must know, that day you saw me there I was just letting her know that you, who could have stayed in the shipyards as they are exempt employment, had decided to ignore Dad’s advice and my pleas to stay at home. My blubbering, as you put it, Bobby, was for you because I knew what a dangerous job you had taken on.’
‘Okay. But it’s hardly what you could call a protected zone here.’
‘I’ll give you that but it’s not fraught with danger the way the convoys are. And before you say anything, I know that Dad can take the occasional bucket and is in danger of getting knocked down – but he never ends up drifting rudderless in a tin-pan boat out in the North Sea.’
‘Is this going to be the start of you begging me to leave the Merchant Navy and get my job back in Robb’s?’
‘You could do worse.’
‘No. I have to be where I’m able to be the most useful.’
‘Useful? And where do you think this country would be if it wasn’t for all the ships that we are building and repairing – and before you answer that I’ll tell you – under Hitler’s jackboot!’
Bobby blew out his lips before starting to make loud clicking sounds with his tongue. He accepted that there was nothing to be gained from arguing with Kitty. The best thing he could do was change the subject. With a disarming smile he wheedled, ‘Any chance of a wee bite of breakfast before we go and see Mum?’
Before Kitty could answer Rosebud hollered, ‘Kitty, where are you? I’m starving.’
‘Hungry maybe, Rosebud, but starving … never,’ was Kitty’s trite reply.
Two hours later Kitty and Bobby were kneeling at Sandra’s grave while Rosebud was running amok around the cemetery.
Whatever it was that Kitty wished to tell her mother she did so in silent prayer. This unspoken chat, however, was brought to an abrupt halt when she became aware of Bobby speaking aloud to their mother.
‘Mum,’ she heard him utter though deep sobs, ‘I’m just here today to thank you for being with me when I was lost and adrift in the Atlantic.’ Kitty was astounded. Up until then she thought she was the only one whom Sandra was still there for and talking to. But here was Bobby saying that she was still real to him too. That his ordeal in the lifeboat had been made bearable because he had believed that she – and who could argue that she hadn’t – had arrived to soothe and comfort him.
An hour later Kitty and Bobby were taking it in turns to hold on to Rosebud’s hand as she walked along the sea wall at Seafield. It was one of those magical mornings when the cool winter sun danced on the incoming tide and the rush of its buoyancy and energy filled you anew with hope and determination. Bobby and Kitty looked at each other and both knew what each other was thinking as they walked on in comfortable silence. Both were now thinking back to the days of fish-paste sandwiches, red cola, Mum and Dad – many happy childhood days on ‘Porty’ beach.
Eventually they had walked along the prom until they reached Demarco’s coffee shop. ‘Changed days,’ Bobby chuckled as he put his arm around Kitty. ‘Sorry I don’t have any sodden sandwiches or broken biscuits but I could take you inside here and treat you to a coffee.’
Before Kate could respond Rosebud demanded, ‘And can I get a cone with raspberry stuff running off it?’
‘Why not,’ replied Bobby, who had now linked arms with Kitty. ‘And just think in eight weeks’ time it will be a new year. And who knows – 1944 could finally see the end of the war.’
As they entered the café and took a seat, Kitty thought that the war being over next year was a dream too far, but she did think that it would soon be all over and Bobby would come home to Leith for good. She hesitated before adding silently,
Or make his land base in Cardiff
.
‘Bobby,’ she began when her curiosity was beginning to choke her, ‘when the war is over what are your plans?’
‘Simple – make a career for myself in the Merchant Navy. I know it will mean me going to the Nautical College from time to time but that’s what I’m going to do.’ He winked and leant over and squeezed Kitty’s hand. ‘How do you fancy being the sister of a chief engineer?’
‘Is it only the captain’s and chief engineers’ wives that are allowed to go on voyages with them?’
Bobby nodded and chuckled before saying, ‘I think being able to sail the seven seas is the main attraction for Harriet.’
‘You’re joking?’
‘Of course I am. I hope she loves me for who I am and not the uniform and’ – he stopped and winked again at Kitty before adding – ‘the cruises around the world.’
‘Hmmm,’ was all Kitty offered in reply.
‘Look out there, Kitty, what do you see?’
Kitty stared long and hard out of the café window. All she could see were mountainous waves crashing on the shore while seagulls soared, dived and whooped. Her attention then strayed to the brilliant blood-red sun that coloured the sand, sea and spray as it glinted and shone on them. At that moment she became mesmerised by the beauty and the energy of it all. She earnestly wished then she could paint and capture this picture so that she could keep it beside her for the rest of her life.
Bobby brought her back to the present by saying, ‘I’m still waiting, Kitty, for you to tell me what you see.’
‘I see a turbulent sea doing what it pleases and tossing the rubbish where it belongs, out of its way. A winter sun determined to shine brighter than in the summer and making the best of the time that it has.’
‘Exactly,’ enthused Bobby. ‘And that is what I intend to do. Make my life anywhere that it suits me and aim for the sky. As to you, Kitty, you were dealt from the bottom of the deck but you are just nineteen and you still could make a good life for yourself.’
‘And how will I do that?’ She chuckled before searching in her pocket for a handkerchief to wipe melted ice cream off Rosebud’s face, hands and finally shoes.
‘Yeah, at present you have Rosebud to look after but she will grow up and already she is showing signs of doing her own thing. Eventually she will leave you and then, Kitty, do you still intend to be scrubbing stairs, washing boiler suits and being at everybody’s beck and call – surely not!’
‘And what do you propose I do about it?’
‘Start now. Enrol in night school and demand that someone else cares for Rosie Buddy here on those nights.’ Bobby was now tickling Rosebud and she was chortling.
‘You mean you can see me serving my time like Connie – as a plumber.’
Bobby’s uproarious laughter echoed around the shop. ‘Good heavens, no – I expect you to have ambition, drive. Come on, Kitty, you are intelligent and pretty with it. So take your time but as soon as possible make up your mind what it is you are going to do with your life and then get on with it.’
‘And what about Dad?’
‘I have a feeling that when the war is over the shipyards won’t be enough for him. He’s clever too, Kitty, and wily. Never had the chance … or more correctly never took it.’ Bobby stopped to grin and chuckle. ‘And I hope that somehow, after the war, he gets the opportunity to show everybody exactly what he is capable of.’
‘You’ve become quite the philosopher.’
He chuckled. His gaze was out at sea again. Without really addressing Kitty or anyone else he put his thoughts into words. ‘See, when I was drifting aimlessly in the Atlantic and the pain in my arm was unbearable and I had to distract myself from the agony – I thought deeply about life and I now know that you only get one shot to be who you really are. What I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be hanging about until the dark clouds roll away – no – it’s all about learning to sing and tap dance in the rain.’