The Uncertain Years (11 page)

‘Of course I’ll come, but it won’t be until the New Year. I’m spending Christmas with my family.’

‘In that case …’ Mrs Hammond took a parcel out of the
bureau and handed it to Becky. ‘This is from all of us, with our thanks for your kindness.’

‘Oh, thank you.’ She smiled at them all in turn. ‘I know you’ll have a lovely Christmas now. And you take it easy, Colonel, you need plenty of sleep.’

He smiled broadly and leant down to kiss her cheek. ‘We’ll see you after the holiday. And I promise to spend most of the time sleeping and eating.’

Although the house they were living in didn’t seem like home to Becky, she couldn’t have been happier. Bob had arrived on Christmas Eve, and so had her brother. ‘It’s a shame Jim couldn’t make it.’

‘I think if Jim was offered leave he wouldn’t have taken it,’ Bob said. ‘I don’t suppose he wanted to come here. It would have been very difficult for him without his mum and dad.’

Becky’s father agreed. ‘He’ll probably feel better staying with his army friends. There won’t be so many painful memories that way. He needs more time to get over the death of his parents.’

‘You’re quite right, dear,’ his wife said. ‘Goodness knows the loss is hard enough for us to come to terms with, but he wouldn’t want us to be miserable. We must count our blessings. Becky, Will and Bob are here.’

‘And I’ve got some wonderful news.’ Becky had only arrived home two hours ago and hadn’t had a chance to say anything. ‘David is alive and well. He just turned up in a taxi one day.’

‘What? He survived?’ Will was sitting bolt upright with interest. ‘Where has he been all this time?’

They all listened intently to Becky, and the good news helped to cheer them all up, and set the tone for the holiday. No matter how bad things were at times, it was lovely to know that good things were happening as well.

They talked long into the night, and no one bothered to get up until the middle of the morning. Then the men went off to the pub for a drink while Becky stayed at home to help prepare the Christmas lunch.

After the dishes had been cleared, they all sat down with a nice cup of tea and gave out the presents. By necessity the gifts were modest this year, as they were still trying to recover from the bombing. Clothes had had to be replaced, and it was expensive, so the gifts were useful things like socks, gloves and scarves. Except for one bulky parcel with Becky’s name on it.

‘We’ve all clubbed together to get you this, darling.’ Her mother smiled as she handed the package to her daughter. ‘You won’t always want to be in uniform.’

She opened it and pulled out a winter coat in a lovely shade of red, which suited her dark colouring. ‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’ she exclaimed. ‘Thank you so much, but you really shouldn’t have bought me such an expensive present.’

‘We couldn’t have our girl going out on dates not looking her best,’ her mother said fondly. ‘We chose a nice cheerful colour as well.’

‘It’s perfect.’ Becky then went round the room and gave everyone a hug. ‘I love it.’

‘We knew you would. As soon as we saw it your father said that was the one we must buy.’

‘Perfect taste, as always, Dad.’ Then something her mother had said struck home. ‘What dates?’

‘You’re surrounded by men,’ her father teased. ‘Are you telling us you never get asked out?’

‘And now your colonel’s home …’ her mother persisted.

She could see the way their minds were working and knew she had to put them straight on the subject. ‘It’s not like that, Mum. You know he helped me get the posting I wanted, and I’ve been visiting his parents and his little daughter. They were grateful for Will’s account of Dunkirk. It gave them some comfort, and I just tried to help them, that’s all.’

‘So you’ve said before.’ Her mother clearly didn’t believe there wasn’t a romance between them. ‘You’ve got another parcel here. Who’s this from?’

‘Mrs Hammond gave it to me from all of them.’ Inside was a hand-knitted cardigan in cream. The wool was so soft Becky held it up to her face. ‘I’ll be lovely and warm with this under my new coat.’

‘That’s beautifully made, and the wool must have cost a fortune.’ Becky’s mother looked in the box. ‘There’s something else in there.’

It was a child’s painting of the puppy, and Becky laughed
in delight, holding it out for them all to see. ‘Meet Becky. David named the puppy after me because it was bound to get into mischief.’

‘He’s right about that,’ Will smirked. ‘How old did you say his daughter was?’

‘I never asked, but I would say she’s between three and four.’

She held out the drawing to get a better view of it. ‘Sara’s done well; it does look like the puppy. I’ll stick it in my locker at camp.’

She missed the knowing looks being passed around the others as she began to clear up the wrappings littering the room. ‘What have you been up to, Will? You haven’t said much in your letters.’

‘They’re keeping me busy,’ he said evasively.

‘Doing what?’

‘At the moment I’m recording a commentary for a news report.’

‘Is it going to be on the wireless then?’

‘Hmm.’

‘This is the first we’ve heard about a recording.’ His father gave Will an enquiring look. ‘When’s it going to be broadcast?’

‘I don’t know yet.’

‘What’s it about?’ his father persisted.

‘I can’t tell you that, Dad. You know how things are.’ Will was obviously uncomfortable discussing the subject. ‘You’ll find out when it’s released.’

‘All this secrecy is frustrating,’ his mother declared. ‘We just don’t know what our children are up to.’

‘No, we don’t.’ Bob’s mother stared pointedly at her son. ‘And they never say a word about where they’ve been, or what they’re doing. Anyone would think we were spies.’

Bob grinned and stood up. ‘I think I’ll walk off some of the Christmas lunch, to make room for tea. You coming, Will? Becky?’

‘Don’t stay out too long,’ his mother scolded. ‘There’s a nasty north wind blowing today.’

‘That should wake us up.’ Will shot to his feet, and pulled Becky out of her chair. ‘Come on, lazy bones.’

The three of them disappeared, glad to get away from all the probing questions.

‘Phew! Thanks, Bob.’ Will wiped his forehead in mock dismay. ‘I’ll spoil their Christmas if I tell them what the programme’s about.’

Becky grabbed her brother’s arm, suspicious. ‘What have you been up to, William Adams?’

‘You’ll have to wait like everyone else.’ He continued walking and winked at Bob. ‘She always was inquisitive.’

‘Don’t I know it!’

Becky wasn’t about to give up, so she started on Bob next.

‘You’re keeping very quiet. Do you know what this crazy brother of mine has been up to?’

‘As a matter of fact I do. And believe me, you don’t want to know.’

Now she was worried. ‘Come on, Will, you can tell me.’

‘Nope.’ He shook his head, determined.

Knowing she wasn’t going to get them to talk, she sighed. ‘You boys!’

It was a week into the New Year before Becky was able to visit the Hammonds again. She had written a long letter thanking them for the lovely present, and praising Sara for the drawing. Mrs Hammond had replied, but not a word from David. She hoped he was all right.

She pulled the collar of her coat up as she walked towards the house. 1941 had brought cold winds with it and she was grateful to have her new coat. At least she wouldn’t have to visit in her uniform. The only frock she had now was a summer one, but the cream cardigan went with it nicely.

‘Rebecca!’ Sara rushed to meet her as soon as she stepped inside the door, but the dog beat the little girl and nearly sent Becky flying.

‘Careful.’ Mrs Hammond caught the animal. ‘We’re really going to have to teach this wriggling tornado some manners. Come in, Rebecca.’

There was no sign of David in the lounge, but she didn’t have a chance to ask about him. Sara was waving her arm to show the bracelet on her wrist.

‘Thank you for my lovely present. It was too big but Daddy made it fit. I wear it all the time.’

‘I’m pleased you like it, and it looks lovely on you. Your drawing was excellent, and I’ve put it in my locker at camp, and thank you Mr and Mrs Hammond for the beautiful cardigan. It’s just what I needed.’

‘It was our pleasure.’ Mrs Hammond turned to her granddaughter. ‘Take the puppy into the kitchen and give her a drink, darling. She’s panting from all the excitement.’

‘All right. Come on, Becky.’ The two of them tore out of the room.

‘Is David all right?’ she asked, as soon as they were alone.

Mrs Hammond’s expression clouded. ‘He insists he is, but he’s restless and often irritable. I don’t think he’s sleeping too well either.’

‘That’s only to be expected, my dear,’ Mr Hammond said to his wife as he helped Becky out of her coat. ‘It’s going to take him a while to adjust to normal life again, and he’s anxious to return to his regiment. He’s been to the hospital and only arrived back a few minutes before you. He’ll be down in a minute, and I hope to goodness the doctors have given him good news.’

Mrs Hammond nodded agreement, then smiled at Becky. ‘The cardigan looks lovely on you. Did you have a nice Christmas?’

‘Very, thank you. My brother and Bob managed to get home. Bob’s the one in the navy,’ she explained.

‘Ah, Rebecca, you’ve finally made it.’ David walked into the room without the aid of a stick.

The censure in his voice stung her. ‘This is the first opportunity I’ve had. I have to wait for permission to leave the camp – as you well know.’

‘Yes, of course, and you are right to remind me.’ He smiled then, looking much more like his old self. ‘Get your coat. We’re going out.’

‘But I’ve only just arrived and haven’t had a chance to talk to your parents or Sara yet,’ she protested.

‘You can talk all you like when we get back. Where’s your coat?’

‘I’ve put it in the hall closet,’ his father told him. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Just out.’ David disappeared to collect her coat. Becky gave his parents a startled look.

‘Go with him.’ Mrs Hammond spoke softly. ‘A couple of hours with you might settle him.’

Becky nodded in agreement as he came back into the room. ‘Nice coat,’ he said, as he helped her into it. ‘Christmas present?’

‘Yes. It was a joint present from family and friends.’

‘Lovely colour.’ David turned to speak to his mother. ‘I’ve told Sara we’ll be back in time for tea.’

‘Fine.’ His mother gave Becky a grateful smile. ‘Enjoy yourselves.’

She nodded as David ushered her out of the house and towards the garage.

‘You’ll have to drive. I’m not allowed to yet.’

Her eyes lit up with pleasure when she saw the Rolls Royce. ‘Oh, my …’

‘Not that one,’ he told her. ‘We’ll use the one over there.’

She walked around the Rolls and saw a small MG sports car the other side. It had been completely hidden by the larger one.

David ran a hand lovingly over the bonnet. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve had a ride in her. I checked her over yesterday and she’s still in good working order. Get in.’

He was still good at giving orders, she thought wryly, but there was an edginess about him that hadn’t been there before. She started the car and carefully backed it out of the garage. ‘Where are we going?’

‘To the cinema.’

‘Oh, what’s on?’

‘I don’t know, and I don’t care. I just want to sit in a cinema and watch a film. You’re the driver, Rebecca, so go anywhere,’ he told her irritably.

‘Yes, sir!’ The nearest one was only a short drive from the house. She’d seen it from the bus, so she’d go there.

After parking the car they walked into the foyer, and it was only then that Becky noticed what was showing:
The Wizard of Oz
. She was about to point out to him that this wouldn’t be to his taste, but quickly changed her mind. He was buying the tickets, and didn’t seem to care.

They were soon settled in the stalls, and David appeared to relax. The short Laurel and Hardy film had them both laughing. The newsreel then followed this, which, of course, was all about the war. A special report came on, and as soon as it began Becky sat bolt upright, then surged to her feet, wide-eyed with shock. ‘That’s my brother!’ she gasped.

‘That’s very interesting, Miss,’ a man behind her said. ‘If you would sit down we could all see your brother.’

‘Oh, sorry.’ She plopped down again, never taking her eyes off the screen.

When scenes were shown of the inside of the bomber
and the raid over Berlin, Becky was gripping on to David’s hand with all her might. ‘The crazy devil,’ she gasped. ‘No wonder he wouldn’t tell us what he’d been up to.’

She felt quite wrung out when the film ended and the lights came up for the interval. David never said a word; he just squeezed her hand, and then left his seat. She was still sitting there trying to grasp what she had seen, when he returned with a drink for her.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, handing her the soft drink.

She nodded, and turned round when the man behind tapped her shoulder. ‘Which one was your brother?’

‘The war correspondent.’

‘Phew! He’s got some guts.’

The lights began to dim for the main feature, but she didn’t even notice it. She had always known her brother had a determination to prove he could do anything, in spite of his slight disability. But had this bombing trip been just guts, as the man behind had said, or was it recklessness? She took a deep breath. No, that wasn’t a part of his character – he’d always thought everything out carefully before taking action. But there was no denying that he had changed since Dunkirk, and perhaps that taste of danger had brought to the surface a side of him hidden until now. There were men who craved excitement and danger. Jim was one of them; they’d seen that in him from a young age, but she’d never believed Will was like that. Now she was seeing a very different side of her brother and it was quite a revelation …

Completely lost in thought, she paid no heed to what
was going on around her as she replayed Will’s report over and over in her head. Her pride for what he had achieved almost took her breath away. Whatever the dangers, there was no denying it had been a masterly report, and he had carried out the mission with calm professionalism. He wasn’t just good at this kind of thing – he was brilliant!

The lights went up and David gave her a wry smile. ‘You didn’t even look at the film, did you?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ This afternoon at the pictures was supposed to help David adjust after his ordeal in France. ‘I’ve been poor company. Please forgive me.’

‘There’s nothing to forgive. I understand your distraction. Come on.’ He led her out of the cinema. ‘You need a strong cup of tea.’