Our Last Goodbye: An absolutely gripping and emotional World War 2 historical novel

by Shirley Dickson

  Etty, equally adamant Nellie either look after both kiddies or none at all, remained tight-lipped. Her mother-in-law, seeing how serious she was, was the one to give in.

  Etty spoke to the black silhouette standing at the top of the stairs. ‘I’ll only be an hour or so. Don’t give the bairn any dinner.’

  As the door at the top of the stairs slammed shut, Etty knew Nellie’s answer.

  * * *

  Downstairs, in the tiny scullery, Etty shrugged into an aged woollen coat and fashioned a turban-style headscarf on her head before going into the damp and perishing cold backyard, where she filled the tub with pails of hot water taken from the boiler in the washhouse. Then, back in the scullery, she pulled a pail from behind a curtain under the sink and sloshed the bucketful of rank-smelling nappies into an enamel bowl, wrinkling her nose. She’d read in one of the newspapers that working American women were using a ‘diaper service’ that delivered fresh nappies when needed. Good for them, she thought, and hoped the idea would catch on here.

  Running cold water from the tap over the nappies, she watched the foul-smelling brown water disappear down the plughole. Back in the yard, she poured Oxydol soap powder into the tub and was just about to tip the bucketful of nappies into the hot water when the backyard door opened.

  May stood there, her hand on the sneck, her face ashen.

  ‘What’s up?’ Etty dumped the bucket on the ground and hurried down the yard. ‘Why aren’t you in bed? I thought this week was night shifts.’

  May gulped, ‘It is but… I couldn’t sleep. I had to come and see you. I knocked at the front door but got no answer.’ She swallowed hard as if trying to keep tears at bay. ‘So I came around the back…’ she ended, her voice breaking.

  ‘Come in, sit down. I’ll make us a cup of tea.’

  Nappies forgotten, Etty led the way into the kitchen, where a coal fire blazed yellow flames that licked up the chimney.

  May stood uneasily at the scullery door. ‘You’ve got enough on your hands.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, May, just tell me what’s wrong.’

  May moved into the room and stood in front of the fire. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ Her pink and watery eyes implored Etty. ‘Dad’s disowned Derek.’

  Etty was flummoxed. ‘How d’you mean, disowned?’

  May looked for a moment like a scared rabbit that wanted to bolt, then she shuddered and the whole story poured out, about how her dad had a girlfriend and was moving in with her.

  My God, Etty thought, his wife was barely cold and the man had replaced her with another woman.

  ‘Dad says this Gertie’s flat has only two bedrooms so there’ll be no room for Derek.’ Panic evident on May’s face, her eyes pleaded with Etty as if she held the magic answer.

  At times like this, Etty felt her friend was like an overgrown innocent child and her heart ached for May.

  ‘Can’t they all live in your house?’

  ‘Dad says he’s putting it up for rent. Besides, he wants a break from the past.’

  Don’t we all, Etty surprised herself by thinking.

  ‘But he can’t just… ditch his son.’ He could, Etty knew, because she was aware of the truth – that Mr Robinson wasn’t Derek’s father – and she knew who was.

  ‘Etty, I’ve something to tell you. Prepare yourself for a shock.’ May braced herself, as though she were about to throw herself to the lions.

  ‘Derek belongs to me… he’s my son.’ She waited for a reaction and when none was forthcoming, she continued, ‘I won’t go into details. The thing is, Mam volunteered to bring him up as her own. She said it was best as my life would be ruined.’ May sniffed hard. ‘Now, I’m not so sure. It was purgatory watching him grow and him preferring Mam to hug him rather than me…’ Tears slid down her cheeks. ‘Mam never complained about the work but Dad… he… never wanted—’

  ‘May, please stop. I have a confession to make.’ It was Etty’s turn to brace herself. ‘I knew about Derek being your son.’

  Her mouth went slack and May looked stunned. ‘You did. But how?’

  ‘Dorothy told me.’

  Guilt stabbed Etty at betraying her sister but she didn’t want to hide anything from May any more. You still have the big one, the voice of conscience spoke in her mind. Etty could never reveal the truth; not only would it kill May but their friendship would be over. The bond between them was more than friendship, she knew – it would be as traumatic as losing another sister.

  Blanking her mind, she went on. ‘Don’t think badly of Dorothy… we only had each other and always shared confidences and swore never to tell.’

  Brought up in an orphanage, the two sisters had relied on each other. It was a case of them against the world.

  ‘Eee! I would never… Dorothy was a true friend. There wasn’t a grain of malice in her and she’d do anything to help anybody. I’ll always miss her.’

  May’s tribute to her sister touched Etty. It was her turn to find it difficult to speak.

  ‘So, I don’t have to tell you the whole story?’ May’s pinched face displayed relief. ‘And d’you know who Derek’s dad is?’

  Etty nodded. She couldn’t bring herself to say his name. ‘So, what are you going to do about Derek? And where are you going to live if your dad lets the house out?’ she asked.

  May’s mind went blank like it always did when a problem needed solving. It was Mam that usually helped find a way out. At the thought of her parent, the sorrow and heartache returned.

  ‘I honestly don’t know,’ she told Etty. ‘I don’t want Derek to suffer. All I want is for him to be happy.’

  May sat at the table while her friend made tea in the scullery. When Etty returned she handed May a cup.

  ‘It’s Horlicks. A cure-all in my book when times get hard.’ She sat beside May.

  ‘You don’t need to do anything yet.’ Her tone was practical. ‘Derek’s in safe hands at the farm. What you do have to think on is what you’ll do when it’s safe for him to come home. How you’ll manage.’

  Etty was right, of course. And it came as a relief to May to realise that she didn’t have to make a decision now. The little lad would be devastated when he heard about Mam and that he didn’t have a home. Best to leave him where he was until May figured out a plan. The thought was daunting but Derek’s happiness was paramount, she reminded herself.

  ‘Have you considered telling Derek the truth?’

  As Etty’s words sank in, panic rose in May and she had an urge to flee the house and go to the seashore to breathe some fresh sea air. Too much was happening all at once and making this kind of decision was too much.

  ‘It’s only a suggestion, May. You don’t have to do anything that doesn’t feel right.’

  Etty’s voice, like a salve on a wound, calmed May and she was able to think sensibly again.

  ‘I… I could never. He loved Mam. I’m frightened the truth might… damage him or he might end up hating me.’

  Etty didn’t pursue the matter.

  A long silence followed, with both of them lost in thought.

  Then May spoke, as her nerves couldn’t stand long silences. ‘I took your advice. I sent a letter to the Talbots to say I’m visiting on Saturday. I told them about Mam and explained I’d prefer to tell Derek myself.’

  ‘Oh, I am glad… it’ll do you both good to see each other.’

  At the thought of seeing her son (May only dared to say those words – ‘her son’ – in her head) a warm apple-pie glow spread through May’s stomach and for the first time since Mam’s accident she allowed herself to feel a smidgeon of happiness.

  ‘Come on, give me a hand.’ Etty made for the scullery door. ‘Those nappies won’t wash themselves.’ She pulled a knowing face. ‘If I know you, even though you’re bone-tired after the night shift, you won’t get a wink of sleep for worrying.’

  Etty knew her so well.

  In the yard, May took her frustration out on the nappies as she pounded them wit
h a poss stick. Meanwhile, Etty fed the dripping cloth through the mangle’s wooden rollers.

  ‘D’you believe what’s being said about the war?’ May paused to rest her aching arms. ‘That the tide’s turned…’

  Etty shrugged, noncommittally. ‘I only know what Mr Churchill said in his speech after the victory at El Alamein: “This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.”’

  May thought this far too clever for her to unravel.

  ‘The papers say that this year is a turning point,’ May said, ‘and that the enemy’s strength has been crushed.’

  Etty brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. ‘Trevor and I were discussing the bombing of German cities last night by—’

  ‘Don’t!’ May cried. ‘I can’t bear the thought of civilians being bombed, no matter what their nationality.’ She shook her head in a bemused fashion. ‘Who would’ve thought both sides would be guilty of bombing innocent people?’

  Etty looked surprised. ‘The Germans started it,’ she replied, then laughed, shamefaced. ‘Hark at me. I sound like a bully girl in the schoolyard. She started it.’

  She fed another nappy into the mangle and, turning the handle, watched it disappear through the rollers, niftily catching the cloth as it came out the other side.

  ‘I can’t imagine peace, can you?’ She heaved a long sigh. ‘I’m weary of long queues and shortages… worrying if I’ve got enough coupons.’ Her expression changed to one of optimism. ‘D’you know what peace means to me? I mean, besides the obvious of not having the worry over bombs and the blackout.’

  May shook her head.

  ‘Walking into a butcher’s shop, mulling over what joint of meat to buy and what size… and boiling an egg anytime I fancy… and—’

  ‘Smothering butter on newly baked crusty bread,’ May chipped in, ‘and the tea caddy always full. Christmas cake with nuts and raisins and warm scones made with eggs—’

  ‘Don’t!’ Etty pulled a tortured face. ‘All this talk of food makes me starved – and like old Mother Hubbard, my cupboards are bare.’

  ‘Who was Mother Hubbard, anyway?’ May wanted to know as she resumed pummelling the nappies in the tub with the poss stick.

  ‘I haven’t a clue.’ A gleam of fun glinted in Etty’s eyes. ‘But I know she was old.’

  ‘And she had a little dog,’ May joined in.

  The two girls’ eyes met and they began to laugh, a belly laugh that wouldn’t stop and made their stomach muscles hurt.

  And May forgot her troubles for a while.

  * * *

  Later, as they sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in their hands, watching the nappies blowing in the wind on the yard line, Etty turned to May, eyes now serious.

  ‘When is your dad moving out?’

  ‘He says soon. But I can stay till someone rents the house.’

  ‘That’s generous of him.’ Etty’s voice was thick with sarcasm. ‘I wish we had a spare room here so we could put you up.’

  May didn’t want to be a burden. She realised that now, more than anything, she wanted herself and Derek to be together and share a home. Somehow, she’d make it work. She’d find cheap rooms, she’d find work that—

  A new thought struck, and she froze. She could never now become a nurse. According to Matron, if May did succeed in passing the entrance exam, she would have to live in the nursing home for the next three years – and Matron didn’t make exceptions.

  May made a decision. No matter at what personal cost, Derek would always come first in her life.

  Relinquishing her dream, with a heavy heart, May told herself it was for the best.

  5

  The bus trundled along the twisting road and May, looking out of the window at the soaring countryside, gasped in amazement. The moor, with its rugged elevations where farmsteads nestled in dark hollows and minuscule trees stood out on an undulating skyline, took her by surprise. As she pressed her brow against the cold windowpane, she smiled, thankful that Derek could thrive in such fresh and invigorating countryside.

  The journey so far had been thrilling but not without anxiety – travelling so far alone was something May had never done before. From South Shields, she had taken the steam train to Newcastle where she was overwhelmed by the platforms swarming with people, porters pushing trolleys laden with suitcases, and the trains pulling into the station, blasting steam that billowed in the enclosed area. Soldiers poked their heads out of train windows, some with cigarettes dangling from their mouths, saying goodbye to stiff-upper-lipped relatives and tearful wives.

  Finding the correct platform, May had boarded the train bound for Hexham. She sat comfortably in the carriage, content to stare out of the window and watch the world hurtle by. She was tired after her night shift.

  At Hexham – a charming market town with impressive buildings, and narrow bustling old-world streets – she found the bus station. Boarding the number 38 bus, she sat transfixed watching the scenery go by for the eleven miles it took to her destination.

  ‘Allendale, miss,’ the ruddy-faced conductor told her, giving her a curt nod. When they arrived, May found herself in a quaint village square surrounded with sedate hotels, a cute little church and a holiday atmosphere that made May wish she’d more time to take a look around. But her business here was important, and May had no time for such frivolities. She made a promise to return another day.

  She approached a wiry, older gentleman in overalls, who stood beside a lorry that had milk churns on it.

  ‘Excuse me, I wonder if you could direct me to Hillcrest Farm?’

  The man crooked his arm and put a hand on his hip. ‘Aye. Yi’ need to go back aways, miss…’ He pointed to road that left the square. ‘Go back to the main road and turn left, then bear right and walk a stretch up the hill till you can’t go any farther. It’s there you’ll find the Talbots’ farm.’

  Following the man’s directions, May left the road and walked up a steep gravelled path shaded by overgrown trees. She stopped for a moment to take in the scene of Allendale below and the big sky up above and a sense of freedom enveloped her. No wonder, May thought, people spoke so highly of the Northumberland countryside.

  Approaching the rim of the hill, May saw, in the distance, the stone-built, pitched-roofed farmhouse. At its side was a huge wooden haybarn. As she got closer, she saw hens strutting the courtyard, and two mean-looking geese stalking them from behind, while everywhere in the air hung the smell of hay mingled with dung.

  As she walked over the cowpat-splattered cobbles, May saw movement behind the doorway of the farmhouse. A dog was yapping.

  ‘Shush, Spot.’ A woman emerged from the gloom of the house, a black and white terrier jumping up at her side.

  The woman had slate-grey hair done up in a bun, plump rosy cheeks, a beaming smile and twinkling eyes. She was exactly how May imagined a farmer’s wife to be.

  The woman came over.

  ‘Pesky geese…’ She flapped the offending creatures away with the pinny she wore over a white open-neck blouse and tweed skirt. ‘They’re always on the scrounge and turn nasty when they’re out o’ luck.’ She gave May a friendly smile. ‘You must be May… Derek’s sister.’ She held out a hand. ‘Maud Talbot… Maud, to you.’

  The terrier jumped at May, still yapping.

  ‘Enough, Spot, or I’ll lock you inside.’

  The dog obeyed and sat demurely on her haunches at Maud’s side.

  ‘I’ve come to—’

  Just then, a goose waddled back and, screeching, stretched its skinny neck and alarmingly, appeared to double in height.

  ‘His screech is worse than his bite.’ Maud clapped her hands and the creature, with an outraged expansive flutter of wing, waddled away.

  ‘Thank you.’ May felt foolish because she didn’t know how to react to farm animals. ‘I’ve never met a goose before. I didn’t know they could be so… tall.’

  ‘God love us… I forg
ot you’re a townie… same as young Derek when he first arrived.’ She chuckled good-naturedly.

  May couldn’t help feeling a little possessive.

  ‘The lad’s made up for it since.’ Maud looked up at one of the farmhouse windows. ‘I expect he’s lurking there… he’s been actin’ strange lately. I told him you were arriving as he isn’t keen on folk calling.’

  Folk! In a rare moment of pique, May was outraged. She wasn’t folk; she was Derek’s family! Then she reprimanded herself. What was wrong with her today, why was she so temperamental? She should be grateful to Maud for caring for Derek and giving him a decent home. But still she felt envious. She was tormented by the thought that Derek might love Maud more than her.

  A north-easterly wind blew around May’s naked legs (stockings were in short supply, though she’d drawn a line up the middle of the back of her legs to pretend she wore a pair) and May realised that her green wool jacket, matching skirt and T-bar mid-heeled shoes, wasn’t suitable attire for the country.

  She shivered, not from the cold but the task ahead. She dreaded telling Derek about Mam and seeing his darling little face crumple.

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Maud said and May reckoned her expression must have betrayed her feelings. ‘It must be very hard.’

  May didn’t trust herself to speak but nodded appreciatively.

  There was a silence as Maud appeared to be making up her mind about something.

  She spoke at last, but her demeanour had turned somewhat edgy. ‘I suppose you’ll be wanting to take the lad home. I’ve heard things are quieter now on the coast, since the Luftwaffe were sent to the Eastern front.’

  That would be a dream come true.

  She prattled, ‘Yes. There’ve been no major raids in the town since we sent Derek here.’ May hesitated. She didn’t want to go into personal business. She could never admit that Derek’s dad had rejected him and neither did she wanted to confess he was without a home.