Meanwhile, send me a photo so I can see your lovely face for real.
Love you, my darling. Keep safe.
Your Richard XX
Tears glistened in May’s eyes. Her prayer had been answered.
25
June 1944
Rain came down in torrents from a grey sky and pattered on the leaves of tall trees. The soaked earth beneath Richard’s boots had, in some places, churned to mud.
‘Mate, I don’t know about you but I’ll go crazy if I don’t get to know what’s happening soon.’ Charlie Oakley lit a cigarette. Charlie had moved down south in the same truck as Richard from Boyce barracks. They were in a transit camp somewhere on the outskirts of Southampton where tall trees provided camouflage, and they shared a tent. The food was surprisingly good in the camp and they had access to showers close by.
Charlie continued. ‘We’ve been kept like prisoners in this godforsaken wood for days.’
Richard nodded. He regarded Charlie’s khaki uniform, battledress, gaiters, boots and beret with its own distinctive RAMC (Royal Army Medical Corps) badge and felt surprised at the pride he felt. He’d never expected to belong to an army unit – but life was rich in surprises, and meeting his sweetheart, May, had been the best surprise of all.
They’d corresponded in the month or so he’d been at the RAMC Depot and Richard had been both overjoyed and surprised at May’s response to his first letter – because he had feared her reaction and she must have thought him a scoundrel for deserting her in such a way. She’d forgiven him the unforgivable, trusting soul that she was, and they’d continued their blossoming courtship by letter. His love for her had deepened. After his decision to overturn his stance on being a conscientious objector his life had changed out of all recognition. So, here he was in this wood with the troops. A rumour had spread that something big was afoot and the whisper was it was the second front but no one knew for sure as top brass were keeping it secret.
Richard would have liked to divulge all this news to May but letters home were now forbidden – which clinched the idea that something important was about to happen.
He told Charlie, ‘I’ve heard tell some infantry have been taken out to the Channel to practise landing.’
‘What the hell…? And we’re stuck here with only an early morning march outside for any sort of exercise.’ He threw his Woodbine down on the wet earth. ‘What I want to know is, are the rumours right? Is this the big one?’
Charlie’s wish was granted four days later.
Their commanding officer, Major Parkins, told them early in the morning as the unit stood at attention. ‘Soon we will all be involved in the gravest undertaking… the liberation of Europe.’
Richard’s mind reeled at the enormity of the first operation he was to be involved in, and he couldn’t take in the reality of it all. But the brown sealed envelope that was handed to him, that held instructions and photographs of where they were going, helped convince him
Major Parkins and some nursing orderlies along with the Field Ambulance were the first to go the next day, on the sixth of June.
To a man, he knew, they felt lucky to be part of the operation that would lead to the liberation of Europe.
A collective ‘hurrah’ went up in the nurses’ sitting room. May, sitting in a saggy but comfortable armchair, wondered what all the fuss was about. Cup of tea in her hand, she made her way over to the group of tired-looking nurses, just finished from the night shift, gathered around the wireless listening to the news.
‘What’s up?’ she asked a brunette wearing a dressing gown.
The lass grinned. ‘The Allies have landed in Normandy.’
‘Oh my goodness!’ May clasped her hands to her heart.
As they listened to the newscaster’s voice, the buzz of excitement in the day room was palpable.
After the news had finished, the nurses looked at one another in wide-eyed wonderment.
‘So, the rumours were true.’ A nurse, cigarette in hand, grinned at the others. ‘There is a second front. But no one expected the landings to be in Normandy.’
The brunette chipped in, ‘I’ve heard the hospitals down south are clearing wards in readiness for casualties.’
The nurse with the ciggie frowned. ‘I’ve just thought, I’ve not heard from my Tony in a while. He’s in the Durham Light Infantry and I bet that’s why. The powers that be will have wanted it kept hush hush and stopped letters home.’
‘Same with my fiancé, Jack,’ someone called from the day room kitchen. ‘I haven’t heard from him in an age, either. Poor lad, I’ve been calling him something rotten.’
May went cold. She hadn’t heard from Richard in a long while either. Although tired, she couldn’t sleep and sat with the rest of the nurses glued to the wireless for most of the day, listening for any more news.
The next night on Maternity, as May helped one of the mothers breastfeed her baby, the young woman asked, ‘Nurse… have you heard the latest news?’
‘No. I haven’t seen any papers yet.’ May, in fact, had spent an agitated day trying to get some sleep but too much was happening and her wound-up brain refused to relax.
‘The landings were a massive operation, Nurse. Mr Churchill said there were over four thousand ships and thousands of smaller craft crossed the Channel. Now, I’ve never seen the size of the Channel meself but it seems amazing how none of them ships bumped into one another.’
She looked down at the sleeping child at her breast and smiled tenderly. ‘Have you got a sweetheart in the army, Nurse? D’you think he’s in the thick of it like I do my George?’
‘Yes, I do think my Richard is there.’
‘I’ll remember him in me prayers when I say a word for George before I go to sleep.’
A lump came into May’s throat. Folk were kind in times of war and looked out for each other.
* * *
Next morning, after May had breakfasted in the canteen, she couldn’t settle, and reclining on her bed in her pyjamas, she brought out Richard’s letters from her locker drawer.
My darling, dearest sweetheart… As she read the endearments, she felt cherished and the words were like music to her ears. The letter ended, Out of sight doesn’t mean out of mind as you are with me always.
Tears brimming her eyes, she re-read another letter:
I’ve been thinking things over about Derek and somehow, someday he must become part of our family. I will love him because he is a part of you.
That Richard was prepared to take on another man’s son reminded her of Trevor, Etty’s husband, who had taken on two kiddies and neither of them were his. May’s admiration for both men went up a thousandfold.
It was then she felt a flutter like the touch of a butterfly’s wing in her abdomen. The baby was moving – Richard’s child. A smile of delight spread across May’s face to be replaced, as she thought of the future, with a wrinkled frown of worry.
It occurred to her that the insomnia she was experiencing had nothing to do with recent news, as momentous as it was, but more the thought that soon she would no longer be able to hide her pregnancy. She’d managed to hide the growing mound of her stomach so far because she worked nights and her bump wasn’t that obvious yet but May couldn’t hide her pregnancy for much longer.
If only Richard were here to talk to. She could imagine his studious expression as he mulled things over, the hesitation before he spoke his views, which she had now come to value.
The realisation that Richard might be in the thick of the fighting at the front reduced May to helpless anxiety. She wondered if it was having a baby that had made her so teary recently.
May sat up and pulled herself together. She’d encountered worse things before, Mam’s untimely death for instance, and had coped on her own.
Sleep eluding her, she stretched and pondered Richard’s allowance, which she was saving. Though it was a wonderful help, it wouldn’t be enough to manage rent and all her needs once she’d stopped working. He
r head ached trying to think of a way she could manage once she left the hospital, which would be soon, she thought, as she stretched her cotton nightdress over her bump.
As May looked out of the window, she noticed the bright sunny weather. At this precise moment, she decided, her worries could wait. There were two things she now craved – to be outdoors in the sunshine and to spend time with her son.
She dressed in a summer blouse, skirt and sandals and, taking some money out of her savings biscuit tin, made for the outdoors.
* * *
May stood on the shaded side of Whale Street and pressed the bell on the funeral parlour door. She waited, rehearsing what she was going to say.
Mr Newman, round spectacles down his nose, a frown of concentration on his face and wearing an apron down to his ankles over his clothes, opened the door.
‘May, what a lovely surprise… come in, come in. Only I’m busy so you’ll have to come through to the workshop.’ He hesitated. ‘But maybe it’s Mrs Newman you want to see.’
‘No, it’s fine… I only want to ask something and I can speak to you just as well.’
The front parlour hadn’t changed and, though dusty, the familiarity of Mr Newman’s heavy desk, shelves around the walls that featured glass globes with angels within them, comforted May.
She followed Mr Newman through into the workshop at the back of the house whose windows looked over a redbrick back yard. Even though it was summer the fire was lit in the grate as it heated the pitch Mr Newman used to seal coffins. A kettle sang on the hob. May took a seat on a stool next to the bench that lined a wall and gazed around. The floor was full of wood shavings and dirty cups littered the bench – something that never would have happened when she worked here. Mr Newman, standing next to a coffin, picked up a hammer.
‘So, exceptional news, yesterday, eh? Only Mrs Newman finds any war news hard to take at the minute. She buries her head in the sand…if you get my meaning. Victory at the moment means nothing to her.’ He gave a sad little smile. ‘That brother of yours has done her the power of good though, she never stops talking about him.’ He gave May an appreciative nod.
‘It’s Derek I’ve come about.’ At his look of concern, she hurried on, ‘It’s such a lovely afternoon and as I work nights I thought I’d take him to Readhead Park to ride on the swings.’
Mr Newman looked dumbfounded. ‘May, it’s a school day.’
The night shift had taken its toll and she felt confused, as the thought of school had never entered her mind. Her spirits sank.
‘Lass. Is something wrong? Or are you overtired? You look done in.’
May couldn’t take words of kindness at the minute. The enormity of all that had happened recently, the baby she carried, the Normandy landings, the idea that Richard might be in danger… Everything hit her and, feeling panicky, she could barely breathe.
Dissolving into tears, she blurted, ‘I’ve got nowhere to live.’
Mr Newman dropped the hammer onto the bench and came to stand at her side. He patted her shoulder. ‘Tell me all about it.’
Even though she was so upset May recognised he was assuming his professional demeanour. She faltered. Then made up her mind. From now on her life was going to be an open book, she wasn’t going to be ashamed. If Richard could start anew then so could she. She sniffed hugely and then words came tumbling out of her mouth, about Dad, Billy, Derek’s true parentage, her fears for Richard, and her pregnancy. The liberating feeling was wonderful. May didn’t care what anyone thought any more, Richard loved her for what she was and that was enough.
She finished her story and in the silence that followed, Mr Newman handed her a handkerchief from his apron pocket.
His smile was gentle. ‘I remember Ramona being like this when she carried our Danny. She could dissolve into tears at the drop of a hat.’
The thought of Ramona pregnant and vulnerable was strange to contemplate but May knew she shouldn’t judge; you never knew people’s motives or what went on in the privacy of their homes.
‘I didn’t mean to—’
Mr Newman put his hand up to stop her. ‘May… in my line of work I’m many things to people and father confessor is one of them. I pride myself that people’s confidences are safe with me. You wouldn’t believe what folk tell me. And I am honoured that it is me they choose to confide in.’
He gave her a quizzical look. ‘So, let me get this straight. Derek is my great nephew. Does he know?’
‘Yes, and it’s unfair I made him keep it a secret.’
‘I agree. And this fellow, Richard, you say has renounced being a conscientious objector and is now, you believe, at the second front.’
‘Yes.’
‘May I ask, are you two… hrmph… do you intend—’
‘Richard proposed in one of his letters.’ A spark of defiance flashed within her, ‘But even if he hadn’t, I’m determined to keep this baby.’
Mr Newman didn’t react as May expected. He liked things right and proper and didn’t hold with anyone flaunting the rules of society and, like most folk around here, he considered it a mortal sin for babies to be born out of wedlock.
But here he was, with tears swimming in his eyes.
May was startled.
‘I’ve seen enough of death,’ he told her, ‘in these past few years of war to know that life… born in any circumstance… is precious and a miracle to behold.’ He shook his head regretfully. ‘I only wish there was some way Mrs Newman and I could help.’
May was so touched she felt teary but, determined to stay strong, she blinked hard.
She gazed again around the messy workshop as the idea grew in her mind. There was no harm in trying.
‘There is, Mr Newman.’ As his eyebrows raised, she went on. ‘You haven’t got help these days and the place is in a mess.’ Her truthful self came to the fore.
‘That’s true.’ Mr Newman might be officious but he was a practical man. ‘Mrs Newman… isn’t ready to engage in conversation with strangers.’
May understood.
‘I’ve got an offer to make you.’ She took a deep breath. So much depended on his answer. ‘If I could live here for a while after I leave the hospital, till I get myself sorted, I could do my old job as parlour maid instead of paying rent. Don’t worry, I’ll keep out of Mrs Newman’s way. I guarantee you wouldn’t know I was here. ‘
She could tell by the startled expression on Mr Newman’s face he was taken aback.
‘Gracious. I’ll have to think this over.’
‘There’s need to rush.’ May crossed her fingers; there was every need for haste, this baby was growing bigger by the minute. ‘Have a word with Mrs Newman and see what she thinks.’
May couldn’t believe how manipulative she was being. Mr Newman, like many men, liked to think he was the man of the house and made all the decisions.
‘On second thoughts… I can make a decision now.’ His demeanour changed and he appeared master of the household. ‘What you’re suggesting is splendid. We have plenty of room and besides, as I maintained before, families should stick together.’
‘What about Mrs—’
‘I’ll explain that it’s our duty to help out. But between you and me I’m hoping the company might do Ramona good. This arrangement could be a blessing for everyone.’
May was doubtful his wife would take her presence in the house as a blessing. But May was relieved at least she had somewhere to go when she was forced to leave the hospital.
26
In the early hours of the morning, Richard lay on the camp bed and, by the light of a candle, he looked at the black and white photograph May had sent him of her in uniform. She was squinting in the sunlight but the loveliness of her face was unmistakeable, those gorgeous eyes (Richard wished he could see their colour), luscious cupid bow lips and cute snub nose. He could go on looking forever but a noise at his side alerted him and he put the picture away beneath the blanket.
‘Your girl?’ Charlie whispered
. Bare-chested and wearing only underpants, he gazed down at Richard.
‘Fiancée,’ Richard whispered back and was amazed how the word rolled off his tongue so easily. A glow, like sitting contentedly in front of a warm fire, washed over him and it felt good to belong to someone.
‘You got a girl?’
Up until now they hadn’t discussed private matters; they’d never had the time.
‘I got married by special licence before I came away.’ Charlie grinned. ‘Can’t wait to get back to her.’
Richard nodded. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Margaret.’
‘Nice. Anyway, what are you doing up at this time of night?’
‘Same as you. I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been moon gazing.’ Charlie made to move away then paused. ‘Could be us departing soon.’
‘Yes.’
Presumably, thinking about the landings was what kept Charlie awake as well. It was amazing how anything so daunting could be exhilarating too.
Richard held up the candle and looked at Charlie’s hairy chest. ‘Where are your dog tags?’
‘Bloody identification… they got in the way when I assisted with a bloke who “accidentally”’ – he raised his eyebrows – ‘shot himself in the foot. When I’m hot I open the top button of my shirt and the damn tags dangle in the way when I’m tending to a casualty. D’you not find the same?’
‘Yep. But I wouldn’t take them off. Knowing me, I’d lose them.’
‘I always pop them in my battle dress pocket. I’d have been for it if I was caught today as I forgot to put them on because…’
‘For God’s sake…’ a man in the next bed to Richard hissed, ‘I’ll make casualties of the both of you if you don’t shurrup and let me get some kip.’
Charlie raised his eyebrows and walked off, while Richard blew out the candle.
* * *
Our Last Goodbye: An absolutely gripping and emotional World War 2 historical novel Page 26
