Sandra decided to make it easier for him; she wanted this over and done. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me you were married from the first?’
‘Gee, Sandra, that’s a hard question to answer.’
‘Try me.’
He came to sit at the table and the nearness of him made her pulse race.
‘At first, I didn’t think there was any need. Then I got serious about you, and I guess… I was afraid I’d lose you. I figured I had plenty of time. Then, when I was discharged from hospital, I was posted back to Cambridgeshire. I had every intention of writing but I decided that was the coward’s way out. I thought it best to wait and tell you to your face.’
Sandra’s torn heart wouldn’t allow leniency. ‘So, did your wife know about me?’
He shook his head. ‘There was no need. The marriage was over.’
Like a man who needed it, Brad took a swig of his drink.
‘Maybe it’s best if I told you from the beginning. Betty and I were crazy head over heels in love and got married when we were young. Jeez, we were skint and with me still studying we moved in with Mom and Pop. When Pop had his heart attack, he and Mom decided to move to somewhere smaller near the ocean, while Betty and I took over the house. She was employed as a hairdresser while I worked all hours at the drugstore.’
‘Did you have a family?’ Sandra asked, despite her determination not to show any interest.
‘I was keen to start a family but Betty kept putting it off. Don’t get me wrong…’ Brad rubbed his hand over his mouth. ‘I was a stick in the mud type and all I did was work. While Betty… she wanted more out of life before she settled down.’ He took another swig of his drink. ‘Time went on and then Betty decided she wanted to try for a baby but nothing happened. After that… we drifted apart.’ He looked Sandra straight in the eye. ‘It wasn’t Betty’s fault. I realise now I was married to the drugstore.’
‘Then you joined up after Pearl Harbor,’ Sandra hurried the story along.
‘I sure did. I was posted abroad in March forty-two.’ His amazing blue eyes looked meaningfully at Sandra. ‘Up until then, me and Betty were man and wife in every sense of the word.’
Why was he telling her this? She didn’t want to visualise Brad and his wife making love.
At that moment, Mrs Turner came over. ‘Here you are, love, get those Spam sandwiches down you. That’ll do yi’ the world of good after being out in the fields this time of year.’
‘Thank you.’
Mrs Turner didn’t move and appeared to want to chat. With the tray in her hands she looked from one to the other of them, then seeming to sense the strained atmosphere she made a hasty retreat.
‘Shout out if you want anything,’ she called over her shoulder.
Sandra looked at Brad. ‘Spare me the details,’ she told him, as she poured tea into a cup.
‘Sandra, I want to be honest. It’s important you know what went on between me and Betty.’ He handed her the milk jug. ‘I guess you know the rest, me being posted to England and all.’
Sandra lifted the cup to her lips. ‘What’s the point of this?’
He took a breath. ‘In the spring Betty sent me a letter saying she’d met someone else and the marriage was over.’
Sandra, cup still in the air, blurted, ‘Blimey. That must have been a shock.’
‘I guess not. Deep down I knew we’d reached the point of no return.’ He gulped the last of his drink and Sandra watched his Adam’s apple go up and down. He put his empty glass down on the table. ‘I won’t deny I had flings and lived it up… but then I had the plane crash and I met you.’ He stopped as a couple passed the table and made for the bar.
‘Why did you leave it till now to tell me all this?’
‘I sure as hell wanted to. I made up my mind I would the next time we met but then I got posted. Then all leave was cancelled. I knew you’d think I’d let you down. So, despite wanting to tell you face to face about Betty, I wrote a letter explaining.’
‘I never received it.’
His troubled eyes told her to prepare for the worst. The ‘but’ she’d expected all along.
‘I was ready to post it but… Betty got in touch.’ His face altered, looked pained as if he didn’t want to hurt her. ‘There’s something else… Betty and I… before we separated… we made a baby.’
Sandra’s free hand cupped her mouth and she gave a sharp intake of breath. Brad took the cup out of her hand and put it down on the saucer.
He rubbed his forehead with a finger as if eliminating a pain. ‘Betty admitted she hadn’t wanted me to know. She wanted to get on with her life. The new guy played along for a while. But after the baby was born, he couldn’t handle bringing up another man’s son. He left Betty in August to manage on her own.’
Sandra sat perfectly still and let the bombshell explode in her head.
Brad’s expression was that of a man burdened with guilt. ‘Betty wants us to give the marriage another go, for Howie, the baby’s sake.’
‘And you?’ Dread tingled in her throat.
His face had gone pale, she noticed, and there were dark circles under his eyes. ‘I have a son, Sandra. It’s’ – his voice cracked – ‘my duty to look after him.’
Her mind went blank as if she was incapable of thought.
‘Sandra, I swear I didn’t want to hurt you.’
She came to her senses. ‘The baby… he’s definitely your son?’
Brad sighed. ‘Betty is a lot of things but she isn’t a liar. Besides, Howie’s age tallies. He is my kid.’
Sandra felt numb. She stood, her limbs seemingly trembling, and shrugging into her heavy coat without looking at Brad, she moved towards the door.
‘Thank you for making the trip to tell me.’ She opened the door and left.
As she walked away from the pub, she heard his footsteps running after her in the dark.
He caught her arm. ‘Sandra… Jeez, I’m sorry it’s ended like this. I didn’t want to give you up or give you heartache. You didn’t deserve this.’
She shrugged him off. ‘Don’t, Brad.’ She hurried away before she broke down.
‘I’ll always remember you,’ he called.
‘And I you,’ she whispered.
Life went on as before. But for Sandra, who had fallen in love and then lost love for the first time, life could never be the same again. She joined the local Women’s Institute with Evelyn and Ruby because on these cold winter nights, there wasn’t much else to do and Sandra didn’t want to stay at the hostel with nothing to do but think.
The November weather was cold, and frost sparkled like diamonds on paths and rooftops. When she’d finished milking, her breath a small misty cloud when she exhaled, Sandra, bundled up in her coat, mittens and hat, trekked the uneven ground to the sheep-dotted field. She checked for those sheep whose long woolly coat may have frozen to the ground overnight and would need help to stand. She then ensured the sheep had plenty of food and the drinking water wasn’t frozen. For nutrition was the key to keeping the sheep healthy to withstand the cold.
Her thoughts, as she made her way through the gate and back to the farmhouse, returned inevitably back to Brad.
She’d talked with Frieda and told her about her meeting with him. Her friend had helped to clarify Sandra’s thoughts.
‘I pity him. I wouldn’t like to stay married if there was no love and the trust had gone.’ Frieda had shaken her head to verify the fact. ‘Women don’t have any other option when it’s men who supply the money to live. Aunty Doris says all that’s changing with this war when women are doing men’s work and putting food on the table.’ She frowned. ‘There is talk in the village that things might revert back when the menfolk return from the war.’
Sandra, still reeling from Brad’s visit, didn’t want to get into that particular argument.
Frieda seemed to sense her friend’s mood and changed the subject. ‘It was hard enough finding out Brad was married, but him admitting he had a baby and w
as going back to his wife must have been a terrible shock.’
Sandra had thought long and hard about the situation.
‘I loved Brad but… don’t ask me how… but somewhere deep inside I knew I didn’t have a future with him. The first niggly doubt was when I realised that if Brad and I made a go of it together, I’d have to move to Florida. Though moving to America sounded wonderful the thought pulled at me heartstrings. This is the first real home I’ve known and I’ve grown fond of the village and the folk.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, most of them.’
Frieda laughed. ‘I know the ones you’re talking about.’
‘This is where I want to settle.’ Sandra swallowed over a lump in her throat. ‘I know that now. I’ve spent too long already in a different country to Alf, I wouldn’t want to be so far away from him when he comes home.’
Now, as Sandra trudged up to the back door of the farm for breakfast, feet cold in her wellingtons despite her thick woollen socks, she wondered what the weather in Spain was like. Excitement surged through her at the thought that sometime soon her brother would be coming home.
But a fearful voiced warned in her head to be careful of being too optimistic. It didn’t pay.
As she opened the farmhouse door, Sandra made a mental note today was Sunday. She would visit church.
In the afternoon, Matthew, sitting in the front pew waiting for the boys to show up for choir practice, was making notes for the article he was writing for the church’s monthly magazine.
He heard the church door open but didn’t turn as past experience taught him it might be a parishioner who needed privacy.
Absorbed in his work, time passed and then Matthew was aware of footsteps walking down the aisle. Miss Hudson stood at the end of the row of pews he was sitting in.
He noticed her bright and shining eyes and how her pink and cream complexion had changed to rosy in the cold weather.
He spoke, attempting to keep his voice neutral. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you. Have you heard any more from your brother?’
He hoped she hadn’t had bad news. He couldn’t bear that for her.
‘No. But I’m not worried now I know Alf is in Spain and will be repatriated to England. It’s only a matter of time before he’ll be home.’
‘Where is that?’ he couldn’t help but ask.
‘Why, here in Leadburn, of course.’
A wave of unsurpassed joy surged through Matthew.
Sandra missed having Mr Carlton in her life, she realised as she looked at him. Maybe all it would take to get back to the easy-going relationship they’d shared before was for her to confide in him.
‘How is the reading coming along?’ he asked.
Did he really want to know or was he just being polite?
‘I can read most of The Land Girl magazine bar a few difficult words.’ She struggled for something else to say. ‘How is Mr Fairweather keeping?’
‘Bothered with his arthritis, I’m afraid.’
‘Tell him I’m asking after him.’
‘I will, Miss Hudson.’
The stilted conversation was unbearable.
She wanted to tell Mr Carlton about Brad and what had happened so they could get their friendship on a more natural footing again. But the awkwardness between them held her back.
She could try, a voice in her mind said.
‘If you’ve got the time to spare I—’
At that moment the church door opened and three lads came in.
‘Choir practice,’ Mr Carlton explained, looking rather crestfallen.
As she hurried up the aisle Sandra thought that the interruption was probably for the best. Then why, she asked herself, did she have this feeling she’d let herself down?
33
December 1943
Sandra
The Sunday before Christmas when Sandra awoke, she brought her arm from beneath the blanket and checked her wristwatch. Startled, she sat up in the bed. Crikey. Half one in the afternoon?
Earlier that morning she’d been to work and, after she’d milked the cows and fed the animals, Mr Nichol had told her, ‘You and the lass can take the rest of the day off until afternoon milking.’
It had been too early to have dinner, and bone-tired as usual, Sandra had reckoned she had time for a lie-down. Fully clothed, she’d slipped beneath the blanket on the bunk bed.
Dinner would be over by now, she thought, but snacks would be left by Cook on the hatch.
With only six days until Christmas, the Women’s Institute had arranged to decorate the church hall for the festivities and would be arriving at the church at two o’clock. Sandra decided it would be fun to join them. She’d been surprised at how many young lasses were members of the WI and all the good works they were involved in.
Shivering in the chilly air, she padded over to the window, the cold from the linoleum flooring coming through her woollen stockings. From its high vantage point, the window looked out over the view at the front of the hostel to the seemingly velvety hillsides. Staring up at the powder blue sky where a dazzling golden sun shone low in the sky, it was difficult to believe the heavens could hold such terrors at night.
Feeling a sense that all was well with her life, Sandra pulled on her boots and, fastening the laces, made for the common room. She picked up a cheese sandwich and, smothering margarine and jam on a slice of bread, she put them on a plate. Pouring milk from a white jug into a cup, she made for one of the long tables.
It felt strange being in the common room without hustle and bustle or the clatter of cutlery or the din of rowdy voices as they talked over one another. Just Sandra, in a silent world of her own.
The door squeaked open.
As though some primal instinct warned her, the hairs on her arm bristled and Sandra was afraid to turn around. Footsteps came closer and then a figure came to stand beside the table.
She looked up and saw Hal Miller.
His face sombre, he took off his hat. ‘The warden let me in.’
Sandra went cold inside. She didn’t need to hear the words, she knew.
‘It’s Brad, isn’t it?’
He sat opposite her at the table. He met her eyes, regret in his. ‘I’m afraid so, Sandra. Prepare yourself for a shock.’
Such a silly phrase, her mind rambled. How could she prepare? Her muscles had already gone weak. An ache started somewhere in her chest.
‘Is he dead?’
His guard dropped and his face etched in sorrow. ‘Yes.’
She shook her head in disbelief. Brad couldn’t be dead.
From a tunnel, it seemed, Hal’s voice spoke. ‘I’m stationed back in Cambridgeshire but had some leave due. I hitched a ride as I wanted to tell you myself.’
‘That’s good of you,’ she heard herself say.
‘It’s what Brad would want me to do.’
Sandra gazed around the empty common room. She wanted time to revert back ten minutes to when the world still had Brad in it.
‘How did it happen?’
‘We were on a mission. Brad was escorting bombers over enemy territory. I saw him in a dogfight with an enemy fighter. The Messerschmitt went down in flames and the last I saw of Brad’s plane was it turning back, heading for home, smoke trailing behind.’
‘He didn’t make it?’
‘Apparently Brad sent a radio message to base; they answered but there was silence.’ His expression sorrowful, Hal heaved a great sigh. ‘Over four hundred planes left that night. Bad weather conditions meant that many of the airfields were covered in fog. Over fifty planes didn’t make it back. Brad’s was one of them.’
All those families, Sandra thought, left broken-hearted. As she was. She’d said goodbye to Brad once and though it hurt she had been glad he was somewhere out in the world carrying on with his life. She couldn’t bear the thought of him at the bottom of the sea or in some foreign field amongst wreckage.
‘If it helps, Brad once told me he was doing what he loved. Flying aeroplanes.’
Sandra nodded. He’d said the same to her but, she admitted to herself, it didn’t help.
Brad’s amazing, transparent blue eyes, stocky figure, slow smile as he looked at her, played in her mind’s eye. She mourned all that could have been in his life and a sob escaped her.
Hal, still standing, brought a letter out from his uniform pocket.
‘He told me to give you this if anything should happen. His parents will receive formal notification.’
Sandra took the letter.
Poor souls. Her heart bled for Brad’s parents. What they must be going through. She remembered that they had their grandson to remember their son by. She hoped it would give them some comfort.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ His chair scraped back and he stood.
Sandra shook her head. ‘No, thank you. Thank you for coming to tell me.’
‘Can I get someone?’
‘I’ll be all right. I… have friends I can talk to.’
‘If you’re sure?’
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, staring blindly ahead of her.
‘Goodbye, Sandra… and good luck.’
She heard Hal’s footsteps retreat and the common room door close.
She opened the envelope.
My darling Sandra,
I’ll keep this short for both our sakes. Because if you’re reading this, I’m dead and I don’t want to dwell on my demise and neither, I imagine, do you. But it’s necessary you receive this in the event.
Let me begin by asking, do you remember me saying that I was a stick in the mud? Well, that was true but not any more. Because I found happiness and adventure, first by training to fly aeroplanes, a job that I love and secondly coming to Britain because, Sandra, I met you.
I loved you, never doubt that. The best moment was when I opened my eyes after the crash and saw an angel talking to me. The moment causes me to smile every time I think on it. My beautiful angel, Sandra.
I have two regrets. One that I won’t see my son grow to be a man – be there for him as a dad. The other leaving you as I did. Nothing in my life was so difficult. I wanted to stay but I could never live with myself if I did – I couldn’t turn my back on my duty as a dad.
The Outcast Girls: A completely heartbreaking and gripping World War 2 historical novel Page 28
