by Nancy Revell
‘God only knows,’ he said, grabbing three mugs from the untouched tea tray perched at the end of his desk. ‘Sounds like he was buried alive. Some young French lad found him – or rather heard him.’ He sloshed a good measure of Scotch into each cup. ‘Stuck in the cellar under a load of rubble.’
‘And he’s all right?’ Miss Sterling asked, incredulously. They had all heard about Peter and the two Resistance fighters. Sergeant MacLeod had told her that it had hit Toby particularly hard.
‘Hardly a scratch on him,’ Toby said, again shaking his head in disbelief.
He handed them each a mug and they clinked porcelain.
‘We’re going to win this bloody war, we are!’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Sergeant MacLeod said.
‘We bleedin’ well are, ’n all!’ Miss Sterling said, her cockney roots revealing themselves in her excitement. Toby’s mood was contagious.
They downed their drinks in one.
Toby looked at his watch and then back to Miss Sterling.
‘I’ll need a travel warrant drafted for Mrs Rosie Miller, whom I am going to take great pleasure telling is no longer a widow.’ He looked again at his watch. ‘And I need it as soon as possible, please, Miss Sterling.’
It took Toby an hour to pack an overnight bag and make sure that Sergeant MacLeod was briefed to cover for him for the next twenty-four hours. After picking up the travel warrant from his sergeant’s sweetheart, he ran round to the car park, jumped into his Austin 8 and started his journey up north.
Chapter Forty-Two
Everyone looked as Toby came striding across the yard. It wasn’t often you saw an army uniform – and a high-ranking officer at that – in the shipyard. The khaki uniform and peaked cap stood out against the oil-stained grey of overalls and tweed flat caps. In fact, the last time had probably been on Valentine’s Day, when Toby had last been at the yard.
Other than surprise, Rosie felt nothing, unlike the past two years, when every time she’d seen Toby, or even heard his name mentioned, she’d been hit by a terrible fear and dread of the news he might bring with him. What she would give now to have that feeling again, for it would mean there was still hope that Peter was alive.
Rosie put her hand to shield her eyes from the sun and saw in her peripheral vision that her squad were all doing the same. It was a glorious day. The weather had been bright and sunny every day since she had been told that Peter was dead. When she had been at Lily’s she’d managed to block out the sun by keeping the blackout blinds down all day, but when she had surfaced and forced herself to return to the outside world, it was unavoidable and she had found the radiance and the bright, cheerful faces that the summery weather brought with it so incredibly painful. It was as though the sun’s rays were highlighting the doom and darkness that enveloped her and which she felt would be with her for the rest of her days.
She watched as Toby waved over at them all. Seeing the smile on his face, Rosie wondered if he was going to drop down on one knee and propose to Dorothy. There was no doubting that she would say yes.
Knowing that there was little chance of much more work being done, Rosie went round and switched off all their machines. When she stood back up, she saw Toby had got stuck behind a crane. He waited impatiently, shuffling about on the spot before he could jog past it. She saw him looking in Dorothy’s direction and giving her a hundred-watt smile, but he didn’t go to her as expected.
‘Rosie!’ Toby shouted out, marching towards her. He said something else, but his words were lost as one of the drillers started up a few yards away. By the time he reached her, Toby was still smiling. He leant into her ear and again tried to speak, but all Rosie caught was ‘Peter’. The driller had been joined by another and now all Rosie could hear was thudding machinery. Toby stepped back and was still trying to tell her something, but it was no good, Rosie couldn’t hear a word.
Turning to the women, she made the T sign and was met by a show of thumbs pointing up. Toby looked at Rosie and nodded. Checking that there were no spare rods lying around, ready to cause an accident, Rosie led the way across the yard, Toby by her side and Dorothy, Angie, Polly, Gloria and Martha all following – all with furrowed brows and quizzical faces. The rest of the workers in their vicinity were watching with interest. Dorothy caught Bobby’s eye. He, Jimmy and the rest of their squad had stopped work and were watching the afternoon theatre with interest.
As soon as they were in the canteen and had shut the door firmly behind themselves, obliterating the din and chatter of the yard, Rosie looked towards the counter and, seeing Muriel appear from the kitchen, mouthed across ‘Tea, please,’ and made a circle with her hand in everyone’s direction to show that it was for them all.
Muriel nodded, her eyes still betraying the sorrow she felt for Rosie.
Toby kept standing as the women pulled out chairs and plonked themselves down, their eyes darting from Toby to Rosie and then to each other.
Taking off his cap, Toby kept his eyes glued to Rosie.
‘I’ve got some incredible news,’ he said, feeling a sudden well of emotion. He kept himself in check and took a deep breath.
‘I had a call this morning informing me that Peter is in fact still alive.’
There were quiet gasps from the women, their attention ping-ponging between Toby and Rosie.
Rosie stared at Toby, her face impassive. Uncomprehending.
‘It’s quite the miracle,’ he said. ‘From the reports we’re getting in, Peter was trapped under a bombed building. He was literally buried alive.’ He looked at Rosie and smiled. ‘But he survived.’
There was a whispered ‘Oh my God!’ from a mesmerised Dorothy.
Rosie was still looking blankly at Toby.
‘He’s alive, Rosie,’ he reassured. ‘He really is alive.’
Rosie looked to her side, grabbed a seat and sat down. Just as when she had been told that Peter was dead her legs seemed to have lost the ability to keep her upright.
Gloria reached out and squeezed her arm but didn’t say anything. She felt speechless herself.
‘He’s alive?’ Rosie’s question sounded more like a plea, her voice disbelieving. ‘Really? He’s really alive?’ She looked at Toby’s face, needing to see the veracity of what he was saying as well as hear it.
‘He is,’ Toby said with complete certainty. ‘One of my unit who knows Peter spoke to him personally. There is no doubt.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ Rosie gasped, a tentative smile beginning to spread across her face. ‘There’s no doubt, no doubt at all?’ She needed to be reassured. Needed to hear the words again and again. ‘Someone who knows Peter spoke with him?’
‘They did,’ Toby said. ‘Peter told him that he had been trapped for a week before anyone realised that he was there.’ Toby purposely did not mention the other two men who had not been so lucky. He pulled out a chair, sat down, took Rosie’s hand and squeezed it.
‘I’m so sorry you were told Peter was dead. But we honestly did not think there was any chance he could still be alive.’
Rosie looked around at her squad – their faces showing their sheer amazement – and then back at Toby.
‘Oh Toby, don’t be sorry.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I want to be happy … I am happy.’ She paused, bit down on her lip. ‘But I don’t think I will allow myself to believe it until I see him.’
Just then Muriel appeared carrying a tray with a large pot of piping-hot tea, a jug of milk and a small bowl of sugar. She was followed by one of her young charges, who set down a tray of cups and saucers.
‘Everything all right?’ Muriel asked as she started to unload her tray onto the table.
‘Yes.’ Rosie looked up at the woman who might be the town’s biggest gossipmonger but whose heart was in the right place. ‘They’re saying Peter’s alive.’
Toby looked at Rosie with intensity. ‘He is alive. Really he is.’
‘Oh, pet, that’s wonderful,’ Muriel said, wrapping her arms ar
ound Rosie, squashing her in a motherly embrace. ‘I’m so pleased for yer, so pleased!’
She stood back up and wiped away a tear with the corner of her pinny, looking around at all the women welders.
They, too, had tears in their eyes.
‘Eee, well I never.’ She threw Toby a look of teary-eyed wonder as she left, shooing the young girl who’d been standing with her tray under her arm, staring at them all.
Just then the canteen door slammed shut and they all looked up to see Hannah hurrying across the empty cafeteria.
‘What’s happened?’ Hannah asked, worried.
‘Peter’s alive!’ Martha said, her eyes wide with incredulity.
Hannah looked at Rosie, who nodded, but still seemed in shock.
‘They say he’s alive,’ she said to Hannah, although her tone still lacked conviction.
Hannah looked at Toby for confirmation; his face was testament that the news was bona fide. She hurried towards Rosie and flung her skinny arms around her.
Toby pulled out an envelope from his inside pocket.
‘It really is true, Rosie. He’s flying back as we speak. He’s asked if you can meet him at King’s Cross Station.’
‘In London?’ Angie blurted out. She and Dorothy were sitting with their arms linked, looking as though they were going to burst with pure rapture.
Toby looked at Angie and Dorothy, his gaze lingering on the woman he loved.
‘Yes, King’s Cross Station, London,’ he said, looking back at Rosie. ‘Is that all right?’
Rosie was half laughing, half crying. ‘Oh, yes. That’s all right. More than all right!’
She looked at the women and smiled for the first time.
They all beamed back at her.
She saw that Polly had tears rolling down her dirty, flushed cheeks, a hanky scrunched up in her hand.
‘I think Peter wanted to see you as soon as possible,’ Toby said, allowing himself a little chuckle. ‘So, we’ve got you booked onto the five o’clock train. Peter will be waiting for you on the platform when you arrive.’
Everyone looked up at the canteen clock.
‘It’s three o’clock!’ Gloria said. ‘You better get going!’
All the women stood up, surrounding Rosie as they walked her to the canteen doors.
‘Is there anything we can do?’ Gloria asked, her mind whirring, thinking of anything practical Rosie might need.
‘Ma can put you up some food for the journey and I can bring it to the station,’ Polly said. She was still having to choke back the tears.
Rosie shook her head. ‘No, honestly, I’ll be fine. I just need to change,’ she said, looking down at her scruffy overalls.
‘Have you got something to wear?’ Dorothy asked. ‘We can run and get you an outfit from Kate, can’t we, Ange?’
Angie nodded vigorously.
‘Don’t worry. I’ve got my red dress. The one I got married in. I’ve hardly worn it.’ She stood and looked at her squad.
‘I’ll say goodbye to you all now,’ Rosie said when they reached the door. She still felt dazed.
‘I’ll wait in the car,’ said Toby. ‘It’s parked by the Admiral. I can take you straight home, or anywhere else you might need to go.’
‘Thanks, Toby,’ said Rosie. She turned to Martha, who gave her a hug, then Polly, Hannah, Dorothy, Angie and Gloria.
‘Yer sure there’s nothing we can do?’ Gloria asked again.
‘Sure,’ Rosie said, wiping away tears that had started to trickle down her face.
‘I love you all,’ she said suddenly.
‘We love you too,’ the women chorused as Rosie, not trusting herself to refrain from bursting into tears, hurried out of the door.
Stepping out into the yard, Rosie hurried across to the admin building. Throwing open the door, she suddenly felt her energy return. She hurried up the stairs.
Peter will be waiting for you.
Toby’s words kept looping around in her head.
Just like when he had met her off the train at Guildford.
She opened the door, looked across at Marie-Anne and pointed to Helen’s office. Marie-Anne nodded.
‘Helen,’ said Rosie, knocking on the door to her office, even though it was open. She was hit by a smoky warmth.
‘Come in,’ Helen said, surprised, not just by Rosie’s sudden appearance, but because she looked happy. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes,’ Rosie said, swallowing back tears. ‘I’ve just been told Peter’s not dead.’
She paused, not wanting to jinx the words.
‘He’s alive.’
‘He’s alive!’ Helen was gobsmacked. ‘Oh my goodness, that’s amazing. What happened?’
‘I still can’t quite believe it myself,’ Rosie said. ‘Sounds like he’s been trapped – buried alive – and they’ve only just found him.’
‘Oh, Rosie.’ Helen got up and hurried around the desk to give her a hug. ‘I’m so happy for you.’ She stood, blinking back tears.
‘Don’t start!’ Rosie said, her words choked. ‘Otherwise I’ll start and won’t be able to stop.’ She wiped away a stray tear. ‘And I’ve got a train to catch!’
‘What? Peter’s back here? He’s back in the country?’
‘He will be in a few hours,’ Rosie said. ‘I’m meeting him at King’s Cross Station.’
‘What time?’
‘I’m catching the five o’clock train.’
Helen looked at her watch. ‘Well, you better get a move on!’
‘Thanks, Helen. I wanted to check it was all right. Didn’t want to just run off.’
‘I would have understood if you had,’ Helen said. ‘Now go!’
Rosie turned to leave, but stopped and looked back at Helen.
‘I also wanted to tell you the good news personally,’ she said, tears making her eyes shine. ‘You’re a good friend. I didn’t want you to hear it second-hand.’
Tears were now glistening in Helen’s eyes.
‘That’s a lovely thing to be told,’ she said. ‘Now go! You can’t miss that train!’
Helen must have stood in the middle of her office for a good few minutes after Rosie left. Her mind felt as though it was fizzing. Peter was alive! It was nothing short of a miracle. Helen had looked at Rosie and had seen the full extent of what love could do. It had brought her friend back to life.
It was true, Helen thought, the most important thing in life was love. It was a discussion she’d had with Henrietta during her last visit to the hospital, when she had told her about Peter’s death. Her grandmother had urged her to make the most of ‘every day’ and of ‘every love’. Since then, Helen had been thinking a lot about those words. After the hurt and deception she’d endured during her relationship with Theodore, and the numbness that had followed her miscarriage, she had relegated love to a lowly position on her list of what was important in life. There was a war to be won, after all – and work, of course. But she’d been kidding herself. Love would always take the number-one spot, regardless of world affairs and no matter how important her work might be. Love infused everything else in life.
And that was when it came to her, like a flash of lightning, illuminating and energising. She walked over to her desk, picked up the phone and dialled a number she knew by heart.
‘Hello, Denise, it’s Miss Crawford. Can you pass on a message, please?’
She waited a beat.
‘Can you tell Dr Parker I’m coming over and it’s an emergency and can he meet me in our usual place, please?’
Helen listened as Denise asked if everything was all right and was there anything she could do to help?
‘No, but thank you anyway, Denise, that’s really kind of you to ask,’ she said, smiling. She hung up. Reaching down into her handbag, she got out her lipstick and compact. Quickly adding a fresh layer of Victory Red and checking herself in the small mirror, she stood up, brushed down her olive-green dress, picked up her handbag and walked out o
f her office.
‘Marie-Anne!’ she called over.
Marie-Anne was chatting away to the women sitting around the sorting desk. Her face was animated. She had obviously heard about Peter and was spreading the good news. She swung round, her face showing her mortification that she had been caught gossiping when she should be working. She hurried over to her boss.
‘Sorry, Miss Crawford, I was just—’
Helen waved away her apology. ‘Don’t worry, Marie-Anne. Can you take charge while I go out for a while? It will probably be for the rest of the afternoon. Something very important has just come up and I’ve got to go out.’
‘Of course,’ Marie-Anne said, a wide smile stretching across her freckled face, amazed she hadn’t been reprimanded.
Helen turned and hurried out of the main office and down the stairs.
Her mission – to pursue her own happy ending and resurrect a love that she had tried to entomb for too long.
As soon as Denise hung up, she dialled the number for Dr Parker’s consultation room and was surprised to find him there. She passed on the message as she had said she would and hung up.
Taking a deep breath, she then rang the number for the asylum.
‘Ah, Genevieve, how are you today?’
The two receptionists exchanged pleasantries.
‘Would you mind putting me through to Dr Eris, please? I’ve got an important and rather urgent message for her.’
She listened as Genevieve told her she would ring her office.
The line went silent. Denise wasn’t sure whether she wanted Dr Eris to be there or not – whether she really wanted to tell her about Miss Crawford’s ‘emergency’ meeting with Dr Parker. If she was honest, Denise had been relieved when Dr Parker had pulled her up about ‘forgetting’ to pass on a message from Helen. She liked Dr Parker and felt bad about deceiving him. And although she had never been a huge fan of Miss Crawford, she had started to warm to her of late.
‘Denise …’ it was Genevieve back on the line ‘… I’m just putting you through now.’
