Lily's War

by Shirley Mann

  Chapter 40

  The mountain road was gruelling. Danny and Eddie climbed early morning and late at night to avoid detection, knowing also that in the pitch black, their next step could send them careering over the edge of the ridge of the mountains. They kept to the side of the track, dodging in and out of the trees to avoid being seen. They did not dare light a fire, even though they were freezing cold, and when they did manage to take a break, they huddled together surrounding themselves with bracken. Their rations had been eked out from day one and it was now the end of day three.

  Danny had never been more pleased that his dad had made him join the scouts, sending him on survival trips in the Trough of Bowland and the Lake District. The training had stood him in good stead and he quickly adapted to living out in the open, but the problem was the time of year. He looked at Eddie’s pale face. Eddie’s early life in the gentle hills of Bideford had not prepared him for winter in a mountainous region of Italy. He had always said that he preferred to look at the geography of the land from the warmth of a nice café. Danny knew that they could not survive another night and it was time to take a risk and walk to the top of a mound to look for signs of life in the surrounding countryside.

  I’m not losing another one, Danny thought angrily as he looked round to see his friend leaning exhausted against a pine tree.

  He scanned the darkening horizon. At least there was no sign of the Germans. Apart from the one truckload that had done so much damage, the rest were fleeing north. Just down the track, about 500 yards away, there was a barn. That would give them much needed shelter for the night, he decided, and bounded back down the mound to alert Eddie.

  By this time Eddie could hardly walk, his toes were getting frostbite and his hands were shaking. Danny took hold of him under his arm and steadied him to his feet.

  ‘Come on, old chap, we’re going to make it. I’ve found a lovely hotel just round the corner.’

  Eddie grimaced at him.

  They struggled on, Danny helping Eddie to half walk, half stumble down the track. When they got near the barn, Danny propped Eddie behind a tree and took out his gun. He edged around the barn and put his ear to it to listen. Silence.

  He moved around the front and gently eased open the door. It creaked and Danny braced himself, but there was nothing. He breathed again and tiptoed around the door. Adjusting to the dark against the weak sunset outside he could see piles of hay, propped up ready for early spring fodder. He heaved a sigh of relief. Quickly returning to get Eddie, he helped his friend into the barn, doled out half a biscuit each and a teaspoon of water and they settled down into the comfiest bed they had had in months.

  *

  Danny woke to find a gun nozzle pushed into his temple. He sat up quickly, nudging Eddie, who tried to stumble to his feet only to be knocked back down again. There were four men all with guns staring down at them. They were dressed in rough clothing, two of them with string holding up their trousers, and speaking angrily in Italian. They were suddenly pushed out the way by a scruffy boy, who came through the middle of them.

  ‘Sono loro!’ he said. ‘i soldati di cui ti ho parlato’

  ‘Georgio?’ Eddie whispered in disbelief.

  ‘Si, sono io,’ said the boy with a broad grin.

  Danny stretched his hands out to take the boy by the shoulders. He looked keenly at him.

  ‘Tu . . . OK?’

  ‘Si, questo è mio zio,’ he said, pointing to the man with the gun.

  The man put down his gun and started to shake Danny’s hand. The others patted him on the shoulders and laughed.

  Eddie started to tremble and his knees threatened to buckle. Two of the men caught him and they all started to talk in a torrent of Italian. The two Englishmen found themselves being propelled, half carried, out of the barn and down the path. After a while, they came to a farmhouse where they were taken in next to a warm fire and hot drinks were put in their freezing hands. Danny looked up to the crucifix on the wall, thanked God, Allah, the fates and a small boy who had lost everything.

  Chapter 41

  Lily did not know what signs to look for in a pregnant body but she kept feeling her tummy under the rough blanket at night, imagining a small human being growing inside her. She veered between not believing for a minute that such a hurried act could result in a baby and seeing her disappointed parents’ faces as she told them she was a disgrace. At three o’clock in the morning, she went through the whole of Slade Lane imagining what Mrs Cross, Eric at the sweet shop and the members of the bowls club would say. She was furious with herself for being so stupid, but by four o’clock she blamed Danny.

  ‘It’s his fault,’ she railed. ‘If he hadn’t been so idiotic as to get himself killed, captured or lost then I would have had my wits about me and would never have let it happen.’

  She immediately retracted all that and started to worry about Danny being dead in an Italian ditch, tortured in a prisoner of war camp or dying of starvation somewhere. She could not believe how those few words, ‘Missing in action,’ had affected her. It was as if, amidst all the madness of the war, Danny’s letters had been her one constant, despite the little attention she had paid to them. He understood her, she knew that now, right from the time that he had gently taken the cigarette she was trying to stub out in the sugar bowl and put it in the ashtray, ignoring her pretence at sophistication. Maybe he loved her? That was something that had not occurred to her before and it made her sit upright in bed.

  Could Danny really love her? And could she possibly love him? She hadn’t realised before, but now the thought struck her like a thunderbolt. It had been so long since she had seen him, but the idea of never seeing or hearing from him again left an ache inside her.

  She flopped back onto the pillow in despair and groaned, screwing her eyes up tightly to block out the world that had become such a confused place, but Danny’s face kept appearing in front of her. She groaned again, prompting a series of ‘Shut ups’ from the girls around her. Now it was too late, she thought. He’s probably dead and we’ll never have the chance to be together. As she drifted off into a disturbed sleep, she dreamed of a child with one blue eye like Kit’s and one brown like Danny’s. Then it turned into a monster.

  *

  Lily did not have time to analyse her feelings for Danny as she was too busy working herself up with worry. After a couple of weeks, she had a familiar stomach ache and reached for the free sanitary towels, but her period seemed much lighter than usual and she was left with a lingering doubt. Then she received a letter from Alice. She had some leave owing and wanted to know whether Lily had any as well and could meet her in London on her way to visit an aunt in Croydon.

  ‘Alice!’ thought Lily, ‘She’s a country girl. She deals with the birds and the bees all the time. She’ll know. Perfect.’

  Lily was due a seventy-two-hour pass so wrote back to Alice to say she could meet her on Friday afternoon in Trafalgar Square.

  Lily knew as soon as she saw Alice that her friend had changed. Her eyes were sparkling and her familiar solid walk had turned into a bounce.

  They hugged each other, Lily holding on for a few seconds longer than Alice, who was obviously bursting to tell her something.

  ‘Lily Mullins . . . I am in love!’ she pronounced, twirling on the spot and throwing her head back in delight. For a moment, Lily wondered whether to tell Alice about her feelings for Danny or the mess that her relationship with a GI had got her into, but Alice was already in full flow with her news and Lily could not bear to stop her. She looked so happy.

  ‘That’s fantastic. Who is he? Where did you meet him? When am I going to meet him?’

  Alice chuckled.

  ‘All of those things, I will tell, but first let’s get a drink. I’m parched.’ Alice looked around the devastation of Trafalgar Square as if searching for something. Her eyes fastened on a tea shop on the corner.

  ‘That’s the place,’ she pronounced triumphantly and linking Li
ly’s arm, she propelled her through the crowds.

  Lily looked quizzically at her. ‘Are we going somewhere special?’ she asked.

  ‘Well the place isn’t but if you’re a very good girl and behave yourself, I will introduce you to the new man in my life. I only met him a couple of weeks ago but oh, Lily, I just can’t breathe. He’s so wonderful.’

  Lily raised her eyebrows. ‘He’s here?’

  ‘Yes, coming in half an hour or so. I told him he had to meet my best friend and he couldn’t wait. I haven’t had time to tell him much about you, but he knows you are a special person in my life and that he has to love you.’

  ‘Well, that’s quite straightforward then,’ Lily smiled. She couldn’t get over the change in Alice. Her usual pragmatic and calm approach to life had gone and, in its place, there was a bubbly young woman who had blossomed. Lily could not have been more pleased and put her own worries to the back of her mind.

  They ordered their tea and sat down to have a natter, but then Alice decided she wanted a scone so went up to the counter to choose. There was a long queue and she looked around apologetically at Lily who just waved her arm and settled down, preparing what she was going to say to her friend.

  The door opened and a gust of cold March wind made Lily look up. It was Kit! She froze and glanced towards Alice, who was oblivious and sizing up which scone she wanted.

  Kit saw Lily and his expression changed from casual cheerfulness to intrigued interest. He came towards her and at that moment, Alice turned around. She frantically gesticulated over to Lily that the man with his back to her was him. The one.

  Lily was completely perplexed. This could not be the new love of Alice’s life, surely? It was all too quick. Fate couldn’t be that unkind. She was trying to remember which station in Lincolnshire they had said Kit had been sent to and whether Metheringham had been mentioned.

  Lily glanced over at Alice, who was hardly containing her excitement and was grinning from Kit to Lily and back to Kit. Lily smiled as convincingly as she could at Alice and turned towards Kit, saying through clenched teeth, ‘We have met, but don’t really know each other, got that?’

  ‘OK,’ he just had chance to say before Alice joined them, triumphantly carrying a large scone.

  ‘So, isn’t he gorgeous?’

  ‘Mmm,’ Lily replied, seeing horns appear on the attractive young man in front of her. ‘You’re not going to believe this, Al, but we know each other. We met in Oxfordshire.’

  ‘I don’t believe it. I’d forgotten you were both at Upper Heyford,’ replied Alice, ‘but that’s perfect. Now you can see why I have fallen for this American idol.’ She put her hand affectionately on his arm.

  The conversation was led by Alice who was in ignorance of the meaningful glances that were passing between Lily and Kit. Alice took everything Lily said about their previous meetings at face value, never thinking to delve deeper. She took it as a positive that two of the people she loved most in the world had had a head start on getting to know each other and because she loved them both, she just assumed they would get on like a house on fire.

  Meanwhile, Lily was in turmoil. Her mind kept returning to that fateful night outside the hut. She put her hand on her stomach, which was churning like a milk machine. Kit, however, was completely at ease. He seemed to think it was funny that his two conquests were friends and he smiled, seemingly quite proud of himself.

  ‘Let’s go to the National,’ Alice said jumping up as she finished off the last crumb. ‘They might have a new picture of the month or a concert on. Myra Hess might be playing.’

  Kit turned to the waitress to pay and Alice looked quickly at Lily.

  ‘What do you think?’ she mouthed at her.

  Lily managed to nod enthusiastically while sitting on her hands to hide the shaking.

  Alice pushed herself between Kit and Lily, linking both their arms in excitement and Lily felt as if she was in a bad dream as the little trio made their way through London. Lily dropped back to breathe deeply as they queued at the bottom of the stone steps to the gallery. She looked up at it. It had been bombed, targeted and damaged, but it stood, defiantly behind its lions. It had been a bad few months after a long period without bombers threatening the London skies and the previous week in particular had seen renewed bombing in the capital. Everyone was talking about ‘Hitler’s revenge’ and how the Germans were getting their own back for the relentless bombing of their towns and cities. Lily looked around at the damage and for a moment felt a wave of empathy for the ordinary German people who had been bombarded so effectively by the RAF. Feeling like a traitor, she scanned the cloudy skies above and hoped that the rumours that the ‘mini blitz’ was over were true. She had deliberately not told her parents that she was going to London. She knew they would be worried. She looked back at the National. Since the Battle of Britain, its art treasures were slowly being returned one by one from the depths of the countryside and in solidarity, its visitors flocked to hear piano recitals, see exhibitions and the pieces of art that had been lovingly protected. She made her racing mind concentrate on the people around her. They were thin and pale but determined and she took strength from their relentlessly cheerful expressions.

  ‘Tough British, tough Mancunians, that’s what we are,’ she tried to tell herself, remembering Danny’s words, clutching her chest as a stab of pain hit her heart at the memory.

  She tried to cheer up. ‘One little moustached dictator. One little baby isn’t going to change that. Oh, who am I trying to kid?’

  They slowly made their way up the steps, Kit smiling benignly at what he obviously considered to be ‘his two girls’. Lily was aghast at his nerve.

  The gallery was a sad place with empty spaces on the walls and barriers in place in front of open sky where the roof had been damaged, but the people made up for it. Thirsty for a break from a war-torn London, they drank in the beauty and tenderness of the great artists, pointing enthusiastically at a serene face here, a telling brushstroke there.

  ‘There’s a concert starting in ten minutes’ Kit said, reading a poster. ‘Let’s go.’

  The gentle music was just what Lily needed. It seemed to soothe her beating heart and allowed her to float out of herself, up to the ceiling where she felt she was looking down on a play that was being acted out below her. A crescendo brought her back down to earth and she glanced sideways at Kit, who was thoroughly enjoying himself, unaware of her trauma. Alice’s face was shining; Lily had never seen her so happy. It broke her heart to think that Alice could have been taken in by Kit’s shallow charm. No matter what, she justified to herself, her heart had remained untouched by him.

  Although, that makes this worse, she thought. It might have been excusable if I had loved him.

  As the concert ended, the little trio pulled their coats around themselves against the early spring chill.

  ‘I’m off to auntie,’ Alice said, heading to the toilets.

  Kit turned to face Lily. ‘Never thought I’d see you again. How’s this for a coincidence?’

  ‘I cannot believe your nerve,’ Lily said, hissing at him with venom.

  ‘Oh, come on, we had fun, didn’t we?’

  ‘You call what we did outside the hut that night fun? Fun?’

  ‘Aw, you were gagging for it,’ Kit said with a laugh.

  Lily’s voice went quiet. ‘I think I may be pregnant,’ she whispered, ‘and it’s your fault.’

  Lily heard a gasp behind them. Alice had come back to borrow a penny for the toilet.

  Chapter 42

  The journey north was a difficult and dangerous one for Danny and Eddie. The terrain was impossibly tortuous, and the mountain roads were washed away by mud and rain, but the Italian partisans passed them from one guide to the next, taking them to safe houses where they fed them with scraps of bread and milk from goats. The two soldiers knew these supplies were scarce and tried to eat as little as possible, but the women stood over them until they had finished every crum
b, proud of their limited hospitality. They passed through village after village where ten Italians had been shot for every German soldier killed by the Resistance. Small white crosses denoted the children’s graves and Danny and Eddie paused by each of them to say a silent prayer. The cost of rebelling against their own government and the Germans had taken its toll and the grim faces of the Italian people bore witness to their struggle. The beautiful mountains were scarred with muddied tracks, burnt out vehicles and demolished buildings. The Germans’ retreat had left a savage mark on the landscape.

  Wary of rogue patrols, the partisans kept the two men out of sight, making them walk in the dark without any lights. Danny and Eddie kept very close behind their guides, aware that one slip could send them over a precipice.

  Arriving late at night at various safe houses, barns or sheep shelters, the men watched as the skies lit up with the red glow of air strikes. The mountains were magically lit up by strafing fire and ack ack. It was strangely beautiful but the accompanying loud booms stripped the sight of any pleasure. They glanced at each other, aware that they were probably missing some fierce fighting.

  ‘I don’t know what I’m feeling,’ Eddie finally admitted as they watched a particularly bright red glow spread across the sky through the skylight of their housetop refuge. ‘Part of me is so grateful to be here, in the quiet of these mountains, and part of me feels so strongly that we should be there, alongside everyone else.’

  His knuckles were white as he grasped the end of the small table that separated their worn mattresses on the floor and he struggled with the moral dilemma that faces every soldier.