Lily's War

by Shirley Mann

  He walked for a couple of hours, watching the sun gradually disappear behind the tenement flats of the residential area he had wandered into. He had no idea where he was but was confident enough of his Italian to know he could ask someone the way back. He peered in through open doors, where loud Italian families were arguing, cooking meagre meals and laughing. The buildings had been bombed in places and amidst the rubble there were chilling reminders of the recent history: a child’s blue shoe, a shopping basket, a book dropped in haste.

  On one pavement, two children sat. A girl in a tatty red dress and a boy in torn shorts. She was playing with a doll. It was a rag doll with a yellow spotted dress on and she certainly looked as if she had seen as much action as Danny, but the girl was muttering in rapid Italian to it, seeming to scold it in an affectionate way. The boy was playing with a stick, making patterns in the dust at his bare feet. They both looked thin and pale and eyed his uniform suspiciously. Danny smiled reassuringly, then reached in his pack to offer them some crackers. They sprang to their feet, their eyes suddenly wide with excitement. They grabbed the dried biscuits and rammed them in their mouths, but the little girl held her hand out and signalled to her doll. Danny nodded in understanding and delved back into his pack to find a few crumbs at the bottom that he ceremoniously handed over to the girl. Her face became wreathed in smiles as she carefully fed the crumbs to her ‘baby.’ For Danny, it was one of the most precious moments of the war.

  By now, the sun was disappearing and Danny realised he was going to have to find his way through the maze of streets back to the camp. He talked in halting Italian to the children who responded with wild gesticulations and lengthy explanations.

  ‘Lentamente, lentamente,’ he said with a laugh and the boy spoke slowly and deliberately, explaining a tortuous route that it took all Danny’s concentration to absorb.

  He thanked them and as he started to walk away, the little girl ran after him, holding up her dolly to his face for him to kiss. She then reached up and kissed him in return. He walked off between the houses, touching his cheek. The softness of her kiss made him realise how long it had been since he had had any affection.

  Five streets later, Danny desperately tried to remember what the boy had said. The road was deserted and he knew he was on the edge of the city. This was becoming a risky journey. There were parts of Rome that were rough and in times of war, a soldier with a backpack was a tempting target. He cursed himself for not thinking. Concentrating on war had made him forget that it was not only the Germans who could be his enemy. He sped up his walking, trying not to look concerned, rather just purposeful.

  His soldier’s training made every muscle in his body tighten in anticipation and he felt for the trigger of his gun, but all weapons had been left outside the city gates. He cursed and automatically started to glance over his shoulder at regular intervals, keeping to the centre of the road.

  He turned a corner and pulled up sharply. A gang of about ten youths had gathered on the opposite corner. They had been celebrating and their eyes were wide with a desperation he had seen in soldiers on the front line. They were looking for trouble and when they spotted Danny, their faces lit up.

  He made a quick assessment of the possible escape routes but knew that if he started to run in the opposite direction, they would overtake him. He tried to smile and walk past them but they circled him. They started to push and shove him like a skittle doll. He turned on the one he thought was the ringleader and shouted every obscenity he had learned over the past few years. The boy started to laugh and put his hands up in mock surrender while two behind him tried to take Danny’s backpack. They were starving and one soldier’s life was a small price to pay for some food.

  Danny tried to speak Italian to them, using the coarse language he had learned in the mountains. They took no notice but taunted him in a guttural accent that Danny could not decipher and tightened the circle around him.

  The next moment, Danny fell to the ground, a knife in his back.

  Chapter 45

  Lily gradually regained consciousness. She shook the dust out of her eyes and winced at the pain as the grit moved under her eyelids. She felt down to her legs. They were both still there. She wiggled her toes and felt a surge of relief as they moved in her flat brogues. She looked at her arms and turned her hands over. They were covered in scratches and dirt but her fingers seemed to be moving. Bit by bit, she tried to sit up but every part of her body hurt. She let out a cry and realised she couldn’t hear anything. There was an eerie, dust-laden muffled noise but she could not distinguish any sounds. As panic welled up in her, she tried to think rationally. There had been a huge explosion and her ears were readjusting. She nodded to try and reassure herself.

  ‘Alice!’ She let out a cry as she straightened her back to peer around her. Just to her left was a huge piece of masonry. If that had been three inches towards her . . . but never mind her own body, she looked around her to the spot where Alice had stood with her head back, laughing heartily. All she could see now was rubble.

  Her own injuries forgotten, Lily started scrabbling in the pile of stones next to her. She spotted a Lisle stocking with a shoe at the end of it. She shouted for help, not knowing whether anyone else could hear her. She still couldn’t hear a thing. From above her, she saw the shadows of two orderlies appear against the light. They were mouthing something. She signalled to them that she couldn’t hear anything but pointed to the leg next to her. They scrambled down nodding purposefully. They seemed to yell to someone behind them and two more figures appeared holding pickaxes and shovels. Lily sat back on her bottom, ignoring the pain in her side and let them pass. Her hands were shaking and she felt like she was going to be sick.

  While the digging was going on next to Lily, another orderly came and took her by the hands, pulling her to her feet. A young man firmly pushed her up the rubble-covered steps. Lily arched her back towards the digging, desperate not to leave and to help find Alice, but the orderly mouthed something at her and pushed her gently but determinedly out of the Tube. Lily was crying and the salty tears were welcome moisture on her lips. Her last sight of her friend was a skirt being painstakingly unearthed from a pile of stones.

  Lily was taken to an ambulance where a doctor pulled up her jumper to reveal a gaping wound in her side. Lily looked down with mild surprise at the blood that was pouring from the wound. At that point, she slowly slipped into the doctor’s supporting arms and lost consciousness.

  Chapter 46

  The white curtains blocked Lily’s view of the ward. It hurt to move and she let out a groan as she tried to stretch her back. A nurse came through the curtains.

  ‘No, no, my dear, you stay exactly where you are. Now, let’s see how you are doing.’

  Bustling with importance, the red-headed woman in her thirties was firm yet imperious. Lily did not have the strength to disobey and obediently opened her mouth for the thermometer to be thrust under her tongue while her wrist was held with two determined fingers.

  ‘My friend—’ she started, trying to sit up.

  The nurse shook her head.

  ‘No, no my dear. You stay exactly where you are.’

  The nurse’s repetitious phrase did not brook any argument but Lily was fretting about Alice and could not let it drop.

  ‘I have to know about my friend. Alice Colville,’ she said, her mouth set like her mother’s. ‘Please.’

  The nurse shook the thermometer and marked the clipboard at the base of her bed. Paddington Hospital was packed with patients and there was no time for chit chat, so she brushed the curtains aside, along with Lily’s plea.

  Lily had a temperature and kept drifting in and out of consciousness. One minute it was bright sunlight and the next it was dark. She lost track of the days, only vaguely registering that she had another stomach ache that was reassuringly similar to all her other monthly period pains. She heard murmurings of doctors sounding concerned about her temperature next to her bed but no
thing was connected in her fevered mind.

  After what felt like months, but must have only been a couple of weeks, Lily was able to face a little soup. As she finished it, the curtains were pushed to one side and a nurse said, ‘You have a visitor.’

  Lily tried to sit up straight, still very weak, confused as to who her visitor might be.

  The curtain moved and she saw her father.

  ‘Dad, oh Dad,’ was all she could say.

  ‘Ee, lass, what have you done to yourself?’

  She burst into tears as he tentatively sat himself down on the edge of her bed. He very slowly and carefully enveloped her in his arms and she let out a sob, then another, and then sobbed uncontrollably, ignoring the pain but thirstily absorbing every fibre of support and love coming from her father. His strong arms seemed to block out the world: a place where the man she might love was missing, where bombs were dropped, where Kit had taken advantage of her and where her best friend might be hurt or even dead.

  ‘I’m that glad to see you,’ John said, brushing away a tear from his cheek. ‘I managed to hitch a lift with the early editions and I’ve got to go back with the returns on the train. Your mum’s frantic with worry. We just had to see if you were all right.’

  ‘Alice—’ Lily started, too frightened to go on.

  ‘Your friend? She’s in the next ward.’

  Lily stared at him in disbelief.

  ‘She’s . . . all . . . right?’ she said haltingly.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t say all right as such, at least not yet, but it seems they’re looking after her.’

  Lily sank back on her pillow and said a rapid Hail Mary to the heavens above.

  ‘And Danny? Have you heard anything about Danny?’

  He shook his head.

  Trying to convince herself that no news was good news, Lily went on.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad, sorry for not telling you I was coming to London. I didn’t want to worry you.’

  ‘Yes, we’d certainly hate to be worried,’ he gave a wry smile. ‘Anyway, I’ve spoken to the doctor and they say you’re going to be transferred to Manchester Royal soon so your mum can see you and I should think, most of Slade Lane. You’re on the mend, love, but it’s going to take time and they need to get this infection under control before they can move you.’

  ‘That’s enough now, Mr Mullins,’ a voice from the edge of the curtains signalled the arrival of the stern sister. ‘She needs to get her rest now.’

  John Mullins stood up, looking with concern at his daughter’s face as she’d gone a sickly pale colour with the excitement.

  ‘Aye, I’ve got to meet the distribution lot at Fleet Street at five.’

  ‘Oh, Dad, do you have to go? I’ve got so much to ask you.’

  ‘Yes, I was told I’d only be allowed a minute or two and your mum will be hopping up and down wanting to hear every detail from me. We can catch up properly when you’re transferred. And as you know, I’m not used to London. I’ve never been and believe me, if that chaos out there is anything to go by, I’ll not be coming again.’ He frowned, thinking of the devastation outside.

  ‘Oh, do give Mum my love and tell her I’m sorry but I am all right.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that. You’re looking fine,’ he lied.

  He clasped her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  ‘Now you do everything you’re told, young lady, for once in your life. We want you up and about in no time, but you need to take care of those stitches.’

  Lily nodded, too exhausted to speak.

  ‘I love you,’ she mouthed as he moved backwards from the bed.

  ‘Aye, and we love you too,’ he said in a broken voice.

  Lily lay back and sighed in relief. She knew what it had cost her dad to get to London both in organisation and in effort. The capital was another world to her parents and it must have been a huge adventure for him, but she also knew it had helped her turn a corner and that with the strength of his hug and the news that Alice was alive, she could fight any infection. If only she could find out whether or not Danny was alive.

  Chapter 47

  Looking down at the floor through the hastily made hole in Danny’s mattress had become a monotonous experience. He had no memory of being brought to hospital but the orderly had told him that he had been found bleeding on the ground, without his backpack. Two Italians had bundled him into a wheelbarrow and pushed him to the hospital where he had been treated initially before being transferred to the military one. Danny had been told that he could not move, or he risked the wound opening again and becoming infected. He was furious with himself for having been so stupid and did not want to cause his unit any more problems so was determined to get better as soon as he could.

  He had already had a very uncomfortable visit from his commanding officer, who minced no words about what he thought of soldiers who put themselves in unnecessary danger and had hinted at negative comments being put on his record. Danny’s heart had sunk at that. He had tried so hard to toe the line and be a good soldier and he needed a blemish-free record for his job after the war. He also wanted his parents to be proud of him. It had been humiliating to hear the officer’s stern voice remonstrating above him while he was unable to stand to attention or even face his accuser.

  His company had moved on, up towards the west to join the oncoming allies but Danny was stuck in Rome, unlikely to move for several months and he was, for the moment, out of the war. Eddie had come to see him before they moved on and made jokes about him thinking he was an army all on his own, taking on the ruffians of Italy. Danny had smiled but it was forced. Once again he was letting his comrades down.

  Danny was improving but the recovery was painfully slow and he had a blood infection. He had been in the hospital for days and the doctors were still unable to tell him how long it would be before he would be able to return to his unit. The worst thing was that he felt his injuries were self-imposed whereas the moans and groans from the other soldiers demonstrated that they, at least, had been injured in battle. He shook his head at the floor below him, almost embracing the boredom and pain as punishment for his stupidity. The indignity of being washed and toileted whilst prone were a small price to pay he felt.

  ‘You’re being shipped home for specialist treatment to that back of yours, Jackson,’ a voice said from the bottom of the bed.

  Danny strained his neck sideways to see the legs of the padre. ‘Home, Padre?’

  ‘Yes, next week, you’re on a hospital ship home. You need specialist treatment. They’re giving you sick leave.’

  Danny sighed. This was the last betrayal of his military responsibilities. How could he go home when the job was not completed?

  ‘Don’t worry,’ the padre said, reading his mind, ‘they only want you to get better and then they’ll get you back out to join your unit. They haven’t finished with you yet.’

  That was small comfort but it helped Danny to feel a rise of weak hope in his stomach.

  ‘You’ve had a lucky escape, Jackson. Captain Fuller intervened on your behalf. I’m following the company tomorrow after the latest batch of burials but he told me to tell you that as you were on leave at the time, you will not be punished for this. But,’ his voice hardened, ‘he said to remind you that a soldier is part of a unit. If you want to be an individual, free to wander off on your own, you will have to wait until the end of the war.’

  A huge weight was lifted off Danny’s shoulders. He knew the Captain to be a fair man who had been understanding after Walter and the others were killed. A man who had climbed the mountains of Italy before the war, he had been impressed at Danny and Eddie’s fortitude in making their way back to the company at Cassino, but Danny also knew that to get into a street brawl was a serious offence and he was lucky to get away with it. Although, he did think that on that same night many soldiers had been drunk and had behaved badly whereas his only crime had been to wander off alone, and he hoped that had been a factor in the leniency h
e was being offered. The usual sparse fare of spaghetti and tomatoes that he was fed by an orderly crouched at the end of his mattress somehow did not taste as bitter that night.

  The following week, Danny was still flat on his front but able to lift his head from time to time. The pain was still there but its intensity had diminished. He felt his body being manhandled and put onto a stretcher and then being marched briskly towards an ambulance. He briefly felt the day’s searing heat pierce his bandages before being bustled into the baking hot army ambulance. The journey to the port was excruciatingly painful and there was considerable tutting from nurses who were checking the wounded onto the ship.

  ‘This one’s bleeding,’ a lilting Scottish voice said.

  ‘Get him on board and we’ll change the dressings there,’ another voice said.

  Being dependent on disembodied voices was becoming a way of life for Danny and he was desperate to be in charge of his own destiny again.

  The journey home was long, hot and dangerous. Even a hospital ship could be targeted and there was an air of tension throughout the journey, but Danny hardly noticed it. The first few days were so painful he just wanted to die. Then, gradually, he began to feel a bit better in himself, although his back was still agony, and he began to find comfort in the quiet conversations of his fellow passengers. The fact that he was on his front meant he could hardly see anyone and it made it easier to talk. He found he was able to speak to the friendly voices that emerged from the dark above him about his experiences, blaming himself for his injuries and even about Lily. He discovered it was liberating that he would never have to face the other patients to whom he had been so honest once they were all carried off at the other end, and talking so openly somehow had a therapeutic effect on his agonised guilt.