Survivor

by Lesley Pearse

  But she was prepared to make an exception for Edwin.

  ‘That would be really nice,’ she smiled. ‘I’ve got to go now as I promised I’d open up the bar tonight. But pop in, it will be lovely to see you. ’

  As she rode her bike back to the pub, she was bubbling with excitement. She had liked Edwin right from the off, on that terrible night. She had no doubt that, if Rose and Peter hadn’t been killed, they would all have gone out in a foursome again. But what really stuck in her mind was how kind he’d been to her after the bombing; a man who could show such strength and compassion towards someone he hardly knew had to be a very good man.

  At half past seven that same evening, Edwin walked into the pub with his friend Tim and two other airmen. Mariette did her best to hide her delight that he’d chosen this pub, rather than one of the many others in the town. The bar was already quite busy and the men went over to an empty table, but Edwin came up to buy the first round of drinks.

  He made a thumbing gesture towards his friends. ‘I twisted their arms to come here,’ he grinned. ‘Good job there’re some girls in here, or I might have become very unpopular.’

  ‘It is supposed to be the best pub in town,’ she said as she began to pull the pints. ‘Not that I’d really know as I haven’t been in any others.’

  ‘So where do all the men who worship you take you?’ he asked, his eyes twinkling.

  ‘You mean the ones who buy me a port and lemon and tell me they are going to take me to the moon and back?’ she laughed. ‘You just can’t depend on men these days. They promise that, but I never get beyond the pub door.’

  ‘Not even one with a boat to take you sailing?’

  She was touched that he remembered she loved sailing. ‘No, and I’m not sure that civilians are even allowed to take a boat out to sea. My best hope is with fishermen but, as you probably know, they consider it bad luck to have a woman aboard. And anyway, most are working on the minesweepers.’

  ‘Sorry I haven’t got a boat to offer you. But how about a cliff-top walk tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘I’d like that, Edwin,’ she said.

  He paid her for the four pints. ‘I wish I could stand up here all evening and talk to you, but the chaps will get shirty with me. So is it OK if I come for you about two then?’

  The pub was more packed than usual so, even if Edwin had stayed at the bar, she wouldn’t have been able to talk to him. But he did keep looking round and grinning at her, and she knew he wanted her company more than that of his friends.

  Before going to bed, Mariette agonized over what to wear on the walk the next day. Her mother and Mog had sent her a lovely dress and jacket for Christmas. The dress was a sleeveless turquoise print with a full skirt, the short jacket was plain turquoise with the collar and cuffs matching the print of the dress. But it was more suitable for a dance, or going out to dinner, than for a cliff-top walk.

  She had replaced some of the clothes she’d lost in the bombing. But they were all second-hand as she only had enough coupons to buy new underwear. None of the clothes were as nice or as fashionable as her old clothes had been. She felt dowdy in the gored tweed skirt and cream crêpe de Chine blouse that Sybil thought was lovely. The black crêpe dress was one she liked, but she wore it most nights in the bar. And if she had to wear the brown polka-dot dress once more, she’d scream.

  So the only dress left was the one she’d recently run up on Sybil’s sewing machine. It was just a cotton print, pastel flowers on a white background, sleeveless, with a scoop neck and a full skirt. Sybil had given her a wide blue leather belt to wear with it, and although it was a bit early in the year for something so summery, she supposed if she wore a cardigan she’d be warm enough.

  She looked down at her scarred legs and winced. She’d been wearing slacks when she met Edwin this afternoon, and this evening her legs would have been hidden from view behind the bar. What was he going to think of them?

  ‘Too bad, if he doesn’t like them,’ she said to herself in the mirror. ‘Your papa always said people should be proud of war wounds.’

  Edwin came into the pub the following day on the dot of two o’clock. Usually, Friday was a busy day as many elderly married couples came into town on the bus. While their wives shopped, the men came in here for a pint. But as it was mild and sunny today, the men were probably sitting on benches on the seafront.

  Mariette had already told Sybil all about Edwin. She’d arranged to go off early as the pub was open until three thirty.

  When Sybil saw Edwin, she winked in approval at Mariette. ‘Don’t come rushing back for opening time, I can manage,’ she said.

  ‘That’s a very pretty dress,’ Edwin said as they walked down towards the esplanade. ‘Is it new?’

  ‘Yes, I made it. I lost everything when I got bombed out, but I managed to buy the material for this here in Sidmouth. I think I told you before that I used to dish out second-hand clothes to people who were bombed out. I never expected that I would be in the same position myself one day.’

  ‘I wish you had telephoned me before. You must have felt so terribly alone after losing your uncle, aunt and Rose,’ he said. ‘I would have taken you to meet my family, they would have all rallied round, found you things to wear and stuff.’

  ‘With Jean-Philippe being convinced I’d been sponging off his family, I wasn’t going to go cap in hand to anyone,’ she said. ‘But thank you, anyway.’

  ‘Peter’s parents told me he was callous towards them at the funeral. They were shocked, they’d expected Rose’s brother to be as warm and caring as she was, but they put his attitude down to grief. Had they known he was so nasty to you, I think they would have insisted you go home with them.’

  ‘He was really vile,’ she admitted. ‘I did plan to think up something nasty, just to get back at him, but Joan dying put that out of my head. So now I try not to dwell on him, and just remember all the good times with Noah, Lisette and Rose. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell my parents just how nasty he was – they would have found it too upsetting as they’d known him since he was a small boy – so I just hope he gets washed overboard from his ship, and dies a slow and cold death.’

  Edwin chuckled. ‘He isn’t on a ship, he’s got desk duties in the Admiralty. I checked up on him. But perhaps we can hope a bomb singles him out on his way home one night.’

  Mariette laughed. She had, for a short time, been twisted up inside with anger towards the man and had wanted revenge. But she realized now that she no longer cared. She was happy, and he wasn’t – or he would never have been so nasty – so it was time to forget him.

  It was easy to set unpleasant things aside in Edwin’s company; he was so easy to be with. Conversation flowed effortlessly between them as they related things that had happened to them in the last year, chatting about friends, family and the war as it had affected them. He noticed her scarred legs and was very sympathetic, not repulsed.

  ‘They’ll fade,’ he said. ‘I bet in a year or two you’ll have a job to see them. And with a pretty face like yours, who is going to be staring at your legs?’

  He had lost even more people close to him than she had. ‘It’s a terrible thing to admit to, but I hardly react any more when one of the chaps doesn’t make it back to base. None of us do,’ he said. ‘We go off to the pub and raise a few glasses to them, tell a few stories, then that’s it, back to normal. I sometimes wonder if, when this war is over, we’ll all become basket cases when the reality of who we’ve lost hits us.’

  ‘I can’t even imagine the war ending,’ Mariette admitted. ‘We all talk about it, sing “The White Cliffs of Dover” and “When The Lights Go On Again”, but sometimes I think it’s never going to happen, and I’ll never get back to New Zealand.’

  ‘Would you stay here, if you fell in love with an Englishman?’ he asked.

  That question seemed a loaded one, but she managed not to giggle or blush. ‘Maybe, if we could live somewhere pretty like this.’ She waved her hand to
wards the cliffs up ahead of them. ‘But I think I’d try twisting his arm to emigrate to New Zealand.’

  ‘I don’t think you’d have to twist very hard,’ he said, and half smiled. ‘It’s going to take years to rebuild our cities. So many homes will be needed to replace those lost in the bombing, and rationing will probably go on for years. There are already thousands of widows and orphans, and almost everyone will have lost someone.’

  ‘From what I’ve learned about the English while I’ve been here, they can handle all that and more,’ Mariette responded. ‘But let’s get a move on, or we’ll never get to Beer.’

  At seven that evening, they caught the bus at Beer to get back to Sidmouth.

  ‘It’s been such a lovely day,’ Mariette said as she slumped down on to the back seat.

  ‘What a surprise that it turned out so warm,’ Edwin said. ‘Freckles have come out on your nose! Looks like summer’s finally here.’

  Mariette just smiled. It was Edwin who had made the day so special, not the warm sun, and she didn’t want the day to end. He laughed easily, could talk on almost any subject, and he didn’t try to impress her or talk down to her. He was caring too.

  He had told her about the pregnant girlfriend of one of his friends who had been killed. ‘She’s in a bit of a state, she feels she can’t go home, but she can’t manage on her own either,’ he said, as if her plight had been playing on his mind. ‘I’ve been trying to persuade her to write to Bill’s parents and tell them – after all, the baby will be their grandchild.’

  ‘I think it’s wonderful of you to try to help,’ she said, unable to think of any other man she knew who would do that. ‘I agree she should try his parents, but not before she’s told her own. I know my parents would be very angry if I went to someone before them. She’ll have to grow herself a spine too. If she loved your friend, she should be proud to carry his baby and hold her head up high. Skulking around, feeling ashamed, only gives the gossips more to talk about.’

  Edwin grinned at her. ‘Well, that’s direct! Or should I say fierce?’

  Mariette blushed. ‘I do think some girls are frightfully feeble,’ she admitted. ‘But then, I’ve had to learn how to look after myself.’

  The walk from Sidmouth to Beer had been further than she realized. Once there, they’d eaten fish and chips sitting on a bench looking out to sea. Fish and chips had never tasted so good. But they had elected to catch the bus back – it was just too far to walk.

  While they were sitting on a wall, waiting for the bus, Edwin asked her if she ever wished she hadn’t come to England.

  She considered that for a moment. ‘Now and again – mostly when I feel very alone, and I think of everyone I’ve lost – but I think coming to England has done me a power of good. I’m not as selfish as I used to be, and I’m more tolerant and understanding. At least, I think so. Only someone who knew me before could confirm it.’

  ‘Is there anything more you’d like to do before you go home?’

  ‘Yes, I’d like to do something worthwhile.’

  ‘Such as?’ He lifted one eyebrow quizzically.

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know really. Something that I can look back at with pride, when I’m an old lady.’

  He didn’t laugh at her, but he didn’t make any suggestions either, so she was rather surprised that Edwin brought the subject up again, once they were settled on the bus.

  ‘You could go in for nursing,’ he began. ‘You’d be good at that.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I wouldn’t, I’d be useless. I retch if I see anyone being sick, and I feel faint at the sight of blood.’

  ‘I don’t believe that. Your mother drove an ambulance in the last war.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Peter mentioned it once. He was actually telling me about Noah, about him being a war correspondent and stuff, and that brought him on to the subject of your father. Peter said Noah kind of hero-worshipped him. Getting the Croix de Guerre and all. And then he said your mother had been out there in France too. So it’s brave stock you come from.’

  Mariette giggled. ‘I’m certainly not brave enough to deal with war wounds,’ she said. ‘Sticking a plaster on a grazed knee is as far as I want to go. It’s funny you should say that about Noah kind of hero-worshipping my father, though. I sensed that too. In fact, I suspect there is a great story behind how the two men met, and I’m fairly certain my mother and Lisette were right in the middle of it. Maybe, if I could do one really good thing to make my folks proud of me, then they’ll tell me about it.’

  ‘If you were my daughter, I’d be as proud as Punch at how strong and brave you’ve been,’ Edwin said.

  ‘All I’ve done is deal with the stuff that happened to me. I don’t call that brave, it’s just survival.’

  ‘That’s not how I see it,’ he said, and he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer to him. ‘A really brave thing to do would be to let me kiss you on the Sidmouth bus.’

  Mariette giggled. There were no more than six people on the bus, and as she and Edwin were sitting at the back they couldn’t be seen anyway. ‘I’m feeling extraordinarily brave today,’ she said and turned her face to his.

  His kiss was perfect. Not too hesitant but not too bold either. His tongue flickered between her parted lips just enough to send a wake-up message to all her nerve endings. And the way he held her, as if she was something precious, made her feel marvellous.

  ‘Umm,’ she said, when they finally drew apart. ‘I didn’t feel scared.’

  ‘You might, if you knew what was going on in my mind,’ he said, and nuzzled his cheek against hers. ‘Can I just tell you something?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, that night at the Café de Paris, I was truly bowled over by you. If that bomb hadn’t dropped, I would’ve made a complete nuisance of myself howling under your window nightly.’

  ‘I would’ve thrown a bucket of water over you,’ Mariette laughed. ‘But that is a lovely thing to say, and I was pretty much bowled over by you too. Shame we can’t turn the clock back, and meet up for my twenty-first in a different place.’

  ‘The tragedy of that night doesn’t have to prevent us starting again, does it?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ she agreed. ‘And I’m certain, if Rose and Peter are looking down, they’ll be cheering right now.’

  He kissed her again then and, this time, Mariette’s whole body seemed to melt into his.

  She never wanted the kiss to end.

  They were staggering like drunks when they got off the bus, with flushed faces and lips swollen from kissing. They felt they were floating in a kind of bubble that prevented the outside world touching them.

  ‘What now?’ Edwin said. ‘I’ve got to go back to Bristol on Monday morning, you are working during the day, and I’ve got meetings and things. I can’t even say when I can meet you again after this weekend.’

  ‘We’ll go back to the pub now, and I’m sure Sybil will take pity on us and let me have some time off over the weekend. As for the future, we’ll just have to see how it goes.’

  He slid his arms around her and hugged her tightly. ‘I’m glad one of us is grounded. But I suppose I’m afraid that I’ll lose you again.’

  ‘Fate brought us together again, so let’s believe it’s meant to be,’ she said.

  ‘Look at his face,’ Sybil whispered to Mariette later that evening.

  They were busy serving as the bar was crowded. Edwin was sitting on a stool up at the end of the bar, staring into space. Mariette’s stomach did a little flip because he was so handsome. She could see his dark lashes like small fans on his cheeks, and his plump lips that had so recently been kissing her.

  ‘He’s not drunk, he’s only had two pints,’ Sybil said went on. ‘He’s daydreaming about you.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ Mariette laughed. ‘He’s probably thinking about flying, or fast cars.’

  ‘No, there’s only one thing that makes a man sit sil
ently at a bar like that, and that’s a woman. I watched him earlier, the way he was looking at you, all yearning and hopeful. Trust me, I’ve had years of practice studying men. I could write a book on my findings.’

  ‘Well, it would be nice if he was thinking about me,’ Mariette admitted. ‘I really like him. But it won’t be easy to see him when he’s based in Bristol.’

  ‘It’s not easy for any sweethearts in wartime,’ Sybil said thoughtfully. ‘I met Ted when he was home on leave in the last one. We fell for one another right away, but then he got gassed. He wrote from hospital in France and told me to forget him as he’d be no use to me. As if you can forget!’

  ‘But you made it together,’ Mariette said.

  Sybil smiled. ‘Yes, but we had some sticky moments at first. He felt like only half a man because of his breathing, so he couldn’t do any manual work. But love finds a way through anything.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Mariette said, looking at Edwin at the end of the bar. ‘I really hope so.’

  24

  1943

  Sybil popped her head round the living-room door, behind the bar, where Mariette was doing some ironing on the table. ‘There’s a chap wanting to speak to you privately. His name is Ollenshaw. And, by the look of him, he’s from the Secret Service.’

  Mariette giggled. Sybil was always guessing what people did for a living and she liked to pick ridiculous jobs. ‘So is there a special look for the Secret Service?’

  ‘Yes, you must be unable to smile, and speak in a really upper-crust, stilted way,’ Sybil said. ‘Shall I ask if he has the secret password? Tell him to sod off, or bring him back through here? I promise I won’t listen at the keyhole, if you choose that option.’