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

by Shirley Dickson

  She continued. ‘But if it’s fine by you, the bairn’s probably best off if he stays here for a while.’

  Maud visibly relaxed. Her round face beamed. ‘It’s no problem. Me and me old man have grown fond of the lad.’ Jauntily, she made for the front door. ‘Come in, such a long morning you’ve had… I expect you could do with a cuppa.’ She stood aside to allow May to enter the house.

  The living room, with its blazing coal fire, low ceiling and saggy couch, had a cosy feel and, looking out of the small but deep sash window, May could see for miles over open countryside. What caught her attention most was the hearty, meaty aroma permeating the room from the kitchen.

  A shrill noise pierced the air.

  ‘Kettle’s boiling.’ Maud hurried through an open door that led to the back of house.

  As the minutes ticked by, May’s eyes strayed around the place and landed on the door to an adjoining room. The door open, May saw a long wooden table with places set all around it. To her amazement a large jug of milk and glass dish with creamy, yellow butter inside stood in the middle and on the sideboard was an enamel bowl filled with large, brown eggs – albeit covered with hen’s business. May drooled in amazement. It paid to live in the country, she concluded.

  ‘Do you take milk and sugar?’ Maud returned into the room empty handed. She followed May’s gaze. ‘For the land girls, God love them. Mr Talbot and I don’t know what we’d do without them.’ She nodded, the loose skin below her chin wobbling. ‘By the way, Mr Talbot… Alf says he’s sorry not to be here but there’s some trouble with the tractor. He’ll try and catch up later.’

  May nodded.

  Suddenly impatient, she said, ‘I’ll leave the tea for now. I’d like to see me brother, please.’

  A sombre expression crossed Maud’s face. ‘I don’t know how the lad’s going to take the news of his mother. He’s always on about her. Thought the world of her, he did.’

  A lump in her throat, May didn’t trust herself to speak.

  Maud disappeared through the doorway. ‘Derek, come down,’ she called. ‘Your sister’s here.’

  There was a long pause. ‘Derek.’

  Maud thudded up the stairs, and then came down again. ‘He’s nowhere to be seen… probably hiding in the barn.’ She removed her shoes and pulled on a pair of black Wellingtons.

  May teetered behind Maud’s stout figure as they crossed a field of damp grass, and wondered why Derek would want to hide.

  The barn, stacked with bales of sweet-smelling hay, was cold and draughty.

  ‘Derek… I know you’re in here, son,’ Maud called out. ‘Your sister’s come a long way to see you.’

  At first, nothing happened, then a movement came from the topmost bale of hay and a figure jumped down. Derek stood before them, dressed in a blue knitted sweater, grey short pants and Wellingtons. May was staggered by how much he’d grown. And he’d lost his cute, chubby look.

  His head bent, he didn’t meet May’s gaze.

  ‘I’ll be in the kitchen if you want anything.’ Maud excused herself.

  May was shocked by how awkward she felt. ‘Hello, Derek. How are you? Pleased to see me?’

  He gave an imperceptible nod.

  ‘D’you like it here on the farm?’

  He nodded emphatically but still made no eye contact.

  ‘Mrs Talbot seems nice.’ May knew she could no longer go on with this pretence. At the prospect of what lay ahead, her stomach churned.

  She went to sit on a bale of hay and patted the spiky straws, ‘Come and sit down besi—’

  ‘I’m not coming home,’ he rounded on her, his pink watery eyes meeting hers, ‘and you can’t make me.’

  6

  Every fibre in May’s body tensed. ‘Derek, I want you to listen. It’s about Mam… she—’

  ‘I know. Mammy died and I won’t see her again.’ His high-pitched voice ended in a howl that pierced May’s heart like an arrow.

  May did what came naturally; she rushed over and put her arms around him. His young body shuddered and he sobbed – huge sobs that made his shoulders heave.

  May felt distraught seeing him like this. She would do anything to make him feel better but she felt totally helpless. They stood like that for a while and when, finally, Derek stopped crying, he pushed her away,

  ‘Gerroff.’ He wiped his nose with the arm of his sweater.

  Reluctantly, she released him. ‘How did you know?’ was all she could think to say.

  There was only one person who could’ve told him but surely Maud Talbot wouldn’t do such a thing, not without owning up?

  ‘They thought I was in bed,’ Derek sniffed, ‘but I listened behind the door.’ He looked at her with big frightened eyes and she saw at heart he was still just a baby.

  ‘Aunty Maud said she got a letter which said Mammy had been run over by a trolleybus…’ A tremor in his voice, he stopped to recover before continuing. ‘When she showed Uncle Alf he said I should see Mammy in a cof… coffin but Aunty said I couldn’t because it was too late. Then Uncle Alf said I’d be going home.’ Derek’s big blue eyes sought hers. ‘But nobody came.’

  May’s stomach twisted with guilt.

  ‘Darling, I’m here now.’

  ‘But I don’t want to go home.’ Derek appeared to shrink and looked the little boy he was. With a pang of realisation, May realised she must make this all about him – what Derek wanted.

  ‘What would you like to happen?’

  He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected to be considered.

  He thought awhile. ‘Home won’t be the same without Mammy. I’d like to stay here with the animals and help with the milk.’ He sniffed hugely and his boyish face looked eager.

  Adrenalin coursing through her, May enquired, ‘Won’t you miss Dad?’

  ‘No,’ he said, with the truthfulness of the young.

  ‘Or… me?’

  ‘I… don’t think so… besides, if I do stay, you can come and see me like now.’

  For a second, it crossed May’s mind to tell Derek that she was his mother and how much he meant to her, but the naïve trust in his gaze stopped her.

  May steeled herself. ‘Y-yes, I suppose I could. But what about after the war when it’s safe to come home? Would you like to come back and live with me?’

  She forgot to breathe.

  ‘I don’t think so. Not now Mammy’s not there. I’ve made friends at school here… and Uncle Alf lets me ride the horse.’

  Though devastated, May nodded as if she agreed with every word.

  He glanced sideways at her as if unsure whether to share or not. ‘I like Aunty Maud, she’s kind, like… Mam.’ His chin wobbled. ‘Aunty’s girls are big now and gone away. She told me if she’d had a little boy she’d want him to be just like me.’

  May felt her heart would shatter in tiny pieces. She made sure none of this emotion showed on her face.

  ‘May…’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I miss Mammy.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I didn’t want to see her in that coffin box.’ He fidgeted in agitation. ‘And I don’t mind if I don’t see Daddy any more.’

  She ruffled his blonde wavy hair. ‘Promise me something…’ He sniffed and stared at her in wide-eyed expectancy. ‘If you’re in trouble or need me, tell Aunty Maud to write to me. And before you know it I’ll be here.’

  He didn’t understand the urgency in her voice, she could tell, but he nodded anyway.

  * * *

  As May dragged her way back down the gravelled path, she despaired. It was as though she’d left part of her heart behind. The urge to run back to the farmhouse and cuddle Derek close and never let him go overwhelmed her.

  As the bus made its return journey back to Hexham, May’s blurred vision couldn’t make out the scenery. Thoughts sprang up like unwanted weeds in her mind. She’d lost Derek a second time – and if her heart ached, she could only blame herself for the blunders she’d made in her lif
e.

  May sat bolt upright. She wouldn’t think like that. Loving Billy Buckley was never a mistake. Though it was still painful that they had broken up, May considered herself lucky she’d experienced the all-consuming love she felt for Billy. And you never know, when Billy returned from the war, maybe this time round he might be ready to settle down.

  She rubbed the window pane clear of condensation with a hand. Scenes of green fields passed by and undulating hills with skinny trees rose on the skyline. A memory played in her mind’s eye of the first time she and Billy had made love, and a sweet ache stirred in May’s groin. She closed her eyes and imagined herself back on that knoll on Cleadon Hills. She’d been seventeen, and remembering the thrill of that moment, of discovering that Billy Buckley, whom she’d worshipped since schooldays, loved her, made her heart pound with happiness still.

  ‘That lad was and always will be jack the lad and only after one thing,’ Mam spoke in her mind.

  May ignored the voice. But there was no denying May could never repay Mam for what she had done at that time. For, by the time May discovered she was pregnant, Billy had left her for pastures greener and a new lass. May didn’t condemn him because she knew in her heart that like a wild animal Billy couldn’t be tamed – and he had made it clear that he didn’t want kids. So when Derek was born, Mam had solved the problem by bringing Derek up as her own. Something that May had agreed to, unprepared for the pain and suffering she’d have to bear. As May thought of Derek’s trusting gaze, her eyes misted with renewed tears. She felt wretched about the lies he’d unknowingly endured, and that she’d had to sacrifice her own relationship with him as a result.

  Although teary with emotion, May smiled as she recalled the time when Billy came back into her life. The war had just begun and impulsively he’d both joined up and asked May to get engaged. Thrilled, May thought she’d died and gone to heaven. But it wasn’t to last. May began to irritate him with what he called her clingy ways. As a last-ditch plea, she’d told Billy about his son. Outraged, Billy had accused her of lying to keep him.

  After he left he was posted abroad and she hadn’t seen him since. She’d written letters, though, telling him of the news from home but careful never to mention personal matters. He responded in the same tone and her heart had begun to lift at the idea there was still hope for the two of them.

  ‘Heed my words, you’re better off without him,’ Mam’s voice told her.

  May shook her head. Mam, for once, was wrong. She didn’t know Billy like May did. Billy was capable of change and when he did, May would be ready and waiting.

  ‘Such is the foolery of love,’ came Mam’s voice again.

  * * *

  As the bus trundled down the main street and turned into Hexham bus station, May wondered, with a leaden heart, what she was going to do with her life. With nowhere to call home and no expectation of living with Derek, the future looked bleak – except, her mind thought with a little spark of enthusiasm, at least now she could consider nursing again.

  One thing was for sure; Dad’s life was mapped out and his plans didn’t include her or Derek. She didn’t condemn Dad for what he did, because as Mam said, ‘till you walk in someone’s shoes, you should never judge them.’ Smart woman that she was, Mam would have been the first to encourage her husband to drop his old self-destructive ways and begin again. But May couldn’t forgive him.

  As she got off the bus, May made up her mind. With these thoughts swirling in her brain, she knew she’d never be able to take the short nap she’d intended before the night shift began. She needed company. She decided that when she got home she’d head to Etty’s and tell her about the visit.

  * * *

  It was dark by the time the train pulled into the South Shields station. May opened the carriage door and stepped onto the platform, where steam billowed all around. Outside, a wall of damp, impenetrable fog met her making her feel panicky. The weather report in the newspaper had warned that conditions that night would be dry over most of England but there’d be considerable fog in the north.

  May fumbled for a torch in her shoulder bag and, switching it on, shone its beam at her feet. Her heart rate beat faster whenever traffic passed in the road. She couldn’t help thinking back to the night of Mam’s accident. Mindful of where she walked, May hugged the wall as she plunged forward into darkness.

  Then she froze.

  The noise of a plane, like an enormous lone bee droning in the skies, came from the direction of the coastline, then another followed and flew low overhead. Bombers. May’s heart skipped a beat and she stood transfixed, looking heavenward.

  Someone bumped into her. ‘Man, watch where you’re goin’.’

  ‘Is that a Jerry bomber?’ May asked, her mouth dry.

  ‘Nay, lass.’ The fellow’s figure was indistinguishable in the dark foggy night. ‘Probably a couple of returning Lancasters… I used me lugs and could tell by the noise from the four engines. Poor souls can’t find the airfield in this bleedin’ weather… Sorry, miss, for the langua—’

  The terrific engine noise directly overhead drowned out his voice.

  When the bombers passed, May heard the sound of engines faltering.

  ‘God help the brave lad… he’s out of fuel.’

  Time stood still as the noise of the stuttering engine diminished towards the Sunderland area. Then, far off, came a noise that made May fear the worst: the scream of a plane nose diving and a muted thud. Far away, the foggy atmosphere was lit by an orange glow.

  * * *

  ‘Smelling salts.’ Etty held the bottle under May’s nose.

  ‘I can’t stand the smell of ammonia.’ May wrinkled her nose and pushed the small bottle away. ‘But thank you, anyway.’

  Etty replaced the cap on the bottle. ‘Poor blighters… that crew were some mothers’ sons. It must be worse knowing that they’d been successful only for the pilot to lose his way and run out of fuel so close to home.’

  Etty knew that May was still shaky and didn’t want to talk about the disaster. But she also knew that talking about it would help her get the experience off her chest.

  ‘The night’s a blur,’ May told her. ‘I can’t remember catching the trolley at the bottom of Fowler Street or making my way down Whale Street or even when you opened the front door, Etty.’

  Even though May was sitting in front of a blazing fire, she shivered.

  ‘You’re not supposed to be at work tonight, are you?’

  ‘Yes, I am. To be honest I’m glad. After all today’s events, I’ll never sleep for thinking.’

  Etty let the matter drop. ‘Thank goodness both bairns are bathed and asleep early for once. Though, what’s the betting I’ll suffer for it later.’ She pulled a rueful face. ‘Trevor will be home from work by then and though I do grumble that he goes out so much he’s a marvellous help with the kiddies when he’s home.’

  She sank down in a comfy winged-back fireside chair and got out her drawstring sewing bag, one of Trevor’s knitted socks and a darning needle. She pulled the sock over the round end of a mushroom bobbin and threaded the needle with some wool.

  She looked up, and, attempting to coax May’s mind away from the crash asked, ‘Come on, tell me what happened at the farm. Was Derek thrilled to see you? Was it awful telling him about… his mam?’

  Etty could tell that evening’s drama had wiped today’s events from her friend’s mind, and it took a minute for May to gather her thoughts.

  ‘He already knew about Mam.’ May went on to tell Etty what had taken place and finished with, ‘Derek’s adamant he doesn’t want to come home.’

  All the while she listened, Etty darned the hole in the sock. ‘What do the Talbots think?’

  ‘It suits Mrs Talbot if Derek chooses to live there.’

  ‘I know it’s a nasty blow but… maybe that’s just as well. Because, when you do find a home you’ll have to work to pay the rent. And, May, you won’t have time to look after Derek.’

 
‘He’d be at school most of the time.’ May’s tone was mutinous.

  ‘Things change, May. Don’t give up hope. You never know what will happen next in life.’

  ‘I can’t see Derek changing his mind. He’s become too attached to Mrs Talbot. And I can see why… she’s such a lovely person. And life on the farm is so good for him.’

  ‘May Robinson. You’re too accommodating for your own good.’ Etty pulled a mock-despairing face. ‘I hope you never meet Adolf… I’m sure you’d find some redeeming trait even in him.’

  ‘I’d never! How can you say such a thing?’

  Etty held up her hands in defeat. ‘Okay, sorry. Just teasing you. But promise me you’ll never give up on Derek coming home to live with you.’

  ‘I would never.’ May was resolute. ‘One day I’ll make it happen and we will be together. I couldn’t bear it otherwise.’

  Etty’s face became serious. ‘As Derek grows up, his family will become more important to him.’

  ‘I know, but to Derek I’m only his annoying big sister.’

  ‘You’re more than that, May. You’re part of him.’ Her words hanging in the air, Etty returned to darning the grey sock.

  She didn’t look up when she next spoke. Heart hammering, she asked, ‘D’you still write to… Billy Buckley?’

  ‘I stopped at first when he didn’t answer, then I plucked up the courage and wrote him again and told him all the home news. Billy likes me to do that as long as I don’t mention anything personal. His battalion has been posted abroad and I haven’t heard from him in quite a while.’ May chewed her inner lip.

  ‘That’s normal, isn’t it?’ Anxiety rose in Etty’s chest.

  ‘Yes, a letter usually takes around six weeks to arrive.’

  ‘Gracious. All Billy’s news will be ancient by then.’

  ‘Oh, he isn’t allowed to write about important matters, where he is or what he’s doing and the letters are censored for security. Servicemen are only allowed one sheet, whether for convenience or cost I don’t know, and the army copies the letters and reduces the size of the print. I need a magnifying glass to read it. The letter is then printed on the thinnest paper.’