Sally vowed to bake a cake, if she could find the ingredients, for the lovely constable. His wife had died years back and she guessed he didn’t get around to home-cooking.
“Will you come for dinner one evening, Constable. When you are free? I’d like Tom and Liesl to see that not all men in uniform are like the ones that put them on the train.”
“I would be honored. Thank you kindly.”
Sally hesitated, hoping she wasn’t asking too much, but Harry had specifically asked her to find out. “I have another question. Harry asked about a friend of his who might have been on the Arandora Star.”
The constable’s facial expression changed so fast, Sally faltered and then started speaking way too quickly.
“This man, he was very kind to Harry. In fact, he stopped Harry being put on the ship. It would mean a lot to Harry if he knew he’d survived.”
“And what if he didn’t? Isn’t the lad safer not knowing.”
Sally considered her answer. “In times like this, I think honesty is the best policy. We can’t protect Harry, Rachel, and all the other children who will suffer in this war.”
The constable stared down at the pile of papers on the desk in front of him. She took up a pen and wrote Mr. Hillman’s name on a piece of paper and left it beside Halton’s hand. She looked him in the eyes before adding, “I’m glad we have people like you to look after us, Constable Halton.”
She walked away without waiting for him to speak having guessed he was finding it difficult to find any words.
29
8 May 1945
Sally stood at the bedroom door, watching Liesl sleep. The street party was still going on when she had taken the children home, Liesl asleep in her arms and Tom protesting he wasn’t tired despite his big yawns.
With both children in bed, Sally couldn’t keep a smile on her face. It thrilled her the war in Europe was over, but what would be the consequences for her? She could lose those most dear to her. What would she do if Trudi or the Red Cross arrived on her doorstep to take these children away?
Liesl didn’t even speak German, having forgotten the language. Tom wasn’t fluent, but maybe he would remember when surrounded by native speakers.
Sally wiped a tear from her face as she remembered the two frightened little children she had welcomed in her home and her heart. They had grown so much in the last six years, developing their own personalities.
She moved to the bed as Liesl moaned in her sleep. Pulling the sheet back over the sleeping child, she kissed her on the head. “Sleep well and have lovely dreams.” She murmured as Liesl snuggled into her teddy.
As she left the bedroom, Tom called her.
“Aunt Sally, is that you?”
“Yes darling, sorry did I wake you?” she walked into his room, over to his bedside.
“No. I had a nightmare. Someone came to take us away. You won’t let that happen, will you?”
Sally’s chest tightened. “I don’t want anyone to separate us, Tom. I love you.”
At some point she may have to explain to him, he’d have to leave, but this wasn’t it. Children’s fears magnified at night, and he needed his sleep.
“I had a fabulous day, Aunt Sally. I can’t remember ever eating so much.”
Sally laughed. “You did eat a lot. Do you have a pain in your tummy?”
“Not anymore. I did earlier, but it’s gone now.” He sat up in the bed and offered his arms for a hug. She tried to hide her surprise. In the last couple of months, Tom had stopped giving anyone hugs, claiming he was far too old.
Sally hugged him before ruffling his hair. “You should go back to sleep. It will be morning soon.”
“Aunt Sally, I’m glad I’m not leaving. I’m the man of the house now, and my job is to protect you and Liesl. At least until Harry comes back.” Tom stared into her eyes. “He will come back, won’t he?”
“He will, darling, but not for a while yet. The war may be over, but there will be lots for our soldiers to do. Why don’t you write to him tomorrow? He’d love a letter from you. You can tell him all about your antics.”
At his troubled expression, her heart twisted. “What is it?”
“I don’t think I should tell him about going to London to see a flying bomb. He will be angry. I can’t tell him about going to the crashed plane and trying to get a souvenir. He wouldn’t understand. He’s a grownup.”
Sally bit back her smile, trying to be serious. “Tom, he’d be as worried as I was. The flying bombs killed lots of people and you running away to London caused a lot of worry.” She saw his eyes glistening. “But you had the sense to go to the police and tell them you couldn’t get home. That was very sensible and mature. Harry would be proud of you. Just like I am. Now go to sleep, darling.” She bent and kissed his head, pulling the sheet and blankets around his shoulder. Just as he liked.
He yawned and whispered goodnight. She sat on his bed until she heard his breathing deepen into sleep. She could smile now at his antics over the last few years. He was a typical boy and wanted to see the bomb sites in London and get souvenirs of shrapnel and bombs. At least he hadn’t brought a live grenade into school like some children up in London. It wasn’t their fault. They’d only known what it was like to live in wartime. She and other parents had aged twenty years in the last five, worrying about their loved ones abroad fighting, fretting over trying to put food on the table, find time for queuing for rationing, and everything else.
Still, there had been some good points. She was a different woman from the one who had kissed Derek goodbye. If you had told her younger self, she’d hold down a job, raise two children, run a house and volunteer in the war effort, she’d have rolled her eyes. She’d managed just like thousands of women throughout Britain. Now their struggle was over. The men would come home, rationing would disappear, and life would return to normal. She walked into her bedroom, her eyes wandering, as always, to the photo by her bed.
Not everyone would come home. She picked up the photo, kissing Derek’s image. “I miss you so much, Derek. How envious I felt towards the women waiting for their husbands to come home. I know it’s not a nice reaction and I wouldn’t want them to go through the heartbreak of losing their husbands. But, I admit, I couldn’t help feeling jealous. I wish with all my heart, you had survived. We had so many dreams. I guess Maggie would tell me to count my blessings. I have two wonderful children and Harry in my life now. So many young widows have lost not only their husbands but their chance for children. I’m lucky compared to some.” She kissed him again, feeling a little stupid for talking to his photo.
Lying in their bed, the photo didn’t provide much comfort. Life went on and she prayed for strength to deal with whatever was coming, begging God not to let them take her children. She muffled her tears with her pillow, she didn’t want to wake the children. They didn’t need to know how worried she was about losing them. The war had taken part of their childhood, she would not let it take any more.
30
End of August 1945
“Mum! Mum! Where are you?”
Sally ran at the sound of terror in Liesl’s voice. The washing she had been taking in from the clothesline fell onto the grass. Sally didn’t care, something or someone had upset her child.
She ran into the kitchen but skidded to a stop not believing the vision in front of her. Liesl was crying openly but Sally’s gaze was focused on the man stood in front of her, dressed in an ill-fitting suit, his body stick thin, yet…
“Derek. Oh, my goodness, Derek. It is you.”
She flung herself at her husband only to be pushed back.
“Who owns the brat? I heard her call you Mum.”
Sally glanced at Liesl and then back at her husband, the gentle giant she adored. The man who loved children and had spoken often of his plans for a large family.
She pulled Liesl to her side. “Liesl, this is Derek, my husband. You know. From the pictures on my bedside table and out in the hall.”
“Pleased to mee
t you,” Liesl said, her vivid-blue eyes wide open.
Silence reigned, only to be shattered by Tom running in the back gate. “Liesl, what’s wrong? I heard you screaming. Oh, who are you?”
“Who am I?” Derek roared, causing Liesl and Sally to flinch. “I am her husband,” Derek pointed at Sally, accusation written all over his face. She couldn’t bear the look in his eyes. This was her dream come true, what she had prayed for over and over. But this man in front of her wasn’t her Derek. The man she loved, the man she married would never have scared a child. Not on purpose.
“Something wrong with your ears, or do you always shout?” Tom asked curiously. He was used to men shouting at him, teachers normally, when he didn’t behave as they thought he should.
Derek looked fit to explode. Sally hastily intervened.
“Derek, love. These lovely children are the ones I wrote to you about, do you remember? Liesl was less than a year old and Tom was almost five. They were part of the Kindertransport.” At no sign of recognition on her husband’s face, she tried to prompt his memory.
“You must remember? I sent you pictures of the children, with my letters. I couldn’t wait for you to meet them. You were due home on leave but you fell ill and had to stay in France. We had made a cake and everyone was so excited you were coming home on leave.”
“Only I didn’t come, home, did I? And it looks like you didn’t care a bit. This nice little family you have, a toy-boy too by the looks of it.” Before she knew it, he’d sent the pictures of Harry flying to the floor, shattering it and covering their feet in glass.
“Derek Matthews you should be ashamed of yourself. The picture is of Tom and Liesl’s brother, Harry Beck. He is with the British Army, stationed somewhere in Germany.”
“A German in our army,” Derek scoffed. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Now get these German brats out of my house. I’m hungry and I need a bath. Some welcome home this is.”
“We aren’t Germans and who are you calling brats, you big bully? You made my sister cry and Aunt Sally. She never cries. Go back to where you came from and don’t come back. We don’t need you here.” Tom stood, his arms akimbo, as he held her husband’s gaze. She was both proud of him and terrified of how Derek would react.
Her husband took a step toward Tom but she intervened, his hand catching her on her cheek, the force of the blow knocking her to the floor onto the glass. Liesl screamed as Tom shouted at Derek to leave, while at the same time shouting for help. Enid and another neighbor came running. Sally grabbed a cloth to staunch the blood running from the gash just under her eye. All the time, Derek stood, looking at her in silence, his eyes wide but she couldn’t read the expression in them. He seemed horrified but whether at hitting her or the fact Tom stood up to him, she wasn’t sure.
Her back gate banged, and next thing Enid Brown was standing in front of her.
“Sally, what’s wrong. Oh, my goodness you’re bleeding. What did you do to her?” Enid turned on the soldier. “Derek! Derek Matthews, you’re home. As I live and breathe, I never thought I would see the day. We thought you were dead. Have you seen Sam? Is he with you?” Enid looked behind Derek as if expecting her husband to materialize.
“Enid, Sam is dead. I’m sorry but he caught one in the stomach. Nothing we could do for him. He didn’t feel anything though. He was lucky.”
“Lucky?” Enid repeated in disbelief.
Horrified, Sally stared at her husband. How could he tell a woman that her dead husband was a lucky man?
“Yes, lucky. He didn’t spend the next five years at the mercy of the Krauts. Can’t bear to be near them or hear the accent. Get those kids out of here and leave me alone with my missus.”
Enid stood, her facial expression telling everyone how she felt about being ordered about. Derek must have seen he’d gone too far.
“Enid, please. I’ll call in to you later and tell you about Sam. Just for the moment, leave me and Sally be. Can you do that?”
Enid melted, just as Sally knew she would. Her friend had always carried a torch for Derek, always flirting with him despite being married to Sam. A decent man was Sam. But then Derek had never behaved like this before. She couldn’t remember Derek ever being cruel to anything or anyone, let alone backhanding a woman or a child. She caught Liesl’s terrified look and saw behind Tom’s façade to the scared little boy he’d been when he first arrived in Liverpool Street. She gathered her wits to her.
“Enid, be a dear and take the children to your house. Take this with you. I baked two of them. Derek can have some for his lunch.” Sally pressed the mince tart into her neighbor’s hands. Not that there was much meat in it, mainly vegetables these days, but still. Her thoughts danced around stupid topics, anything to avoid thinking of her husband and how he was alive. Well the man in front of her was a living breathing copy of Derek but he was nothing like the man she had fallen in love with. Sure, they had only known each other a few short months before he had shipped off to training, one of the first to sign up. They might have been married almost seven years but all together they had spent about a month as a married couple, if that.
Tom moved to protest, but Sally silenced him with a glance. “Please Tom, take Liesl with you. I will be fine. Nothing will happen to me. I will come to Enid’s in a while to talk to you.”
Tom glowered in Derek’s direction but thankfully kept his mouth closed. He lifted Liesl clear of the mess of glass and together they followed Enid out the front door. Sally closed the door behind them, wishing it had been Maggie who’d happened to come to her aid. She didn’t like leaving the children with Enid, still, nothing could be done about that now.
She walked back into the kitchen to the sink, where she wet a clean dishcloth and rubbed it over her face. The cold had the desired effect on the blood flow which was only a trickle now. She looked around at her once sparkling floor, now covered in glass, blood, and goodness knows what else. Picking up the brush she attempted to clean up.
“Leave it, woman, for God’s sake.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain Derek. Nothing calls for that.”
He laughed but it wasn’t a nice sound. She stared at him, not recognizing him at all. What had happened to this shell of a man? He looked shattered. Despite what had just happened, he was her husband and he had come back from the dead.
“Would you like a cup of tea and a piece of that tart? Are you hungry?”
“Sally, just stop and sit down will you. I won’t hurt you. That was an accident and I’m sorry. You will have to make other arrangements for those kids, now I’m back.”
Sally stayed silent. She wouldn’t send them away. She needed time to convince him to let them stay.
She couldn’t sit at the table, doing nothing. She filled the kettle and made a cup of tea, using fresh leaves and more than usual. If there was one time that called for a strong cup of tea, it was now.
She placed a cup in front of him, putting the milk jug on the side. She couldn’t give him any sugar. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes never left her face.
Only after taking a long sip of tea and savoring the strength, did she ask.
“What happened. I was told you were dead.”
“I wish I had died.”
“Derek. You can’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true. It would have been better than being locked up for the past five years, sitting on my ar… backside, while my family, friends, and neighbors forgot about me.”
“We didn’t forget. We had a remembrance service, but I kept feeling I would know if you were dead. Your mother insisted I wear black, but it felt wrong. She’ll be delighted you are home. Have you seen her yet?”
She didn’t add the only time they had seen his mother was on the day of the remembrance service. Mrs. Matthews had arrived dressed in black from head to toe and adopted the lady-of-the-manor routine right from the word go. She behaved as if she was the lead mourner and not Sally. After the service, people had come to Ro
se Cottage for tea and sandwiches. Maggie, Susan, and the rest of Sally’s friends had done their best, given rationing had been put in place. But Mrs. Matthews had complained about everything. Sally closed her eyes remembering the rest of that horrible day. Mrs. Matthews had told her Derek married her by mistake and now he was dead, she wanted Sally and her brats to leave Rose Cottage. Sally refused, saying it was her home. Mrs. Matthews had turned purple with rage, slapped Sally across the face and told her to expect correspondence from her solicitor. Some letters had come but Sally had used them as fuel for a fire.
Derek tapped the table, the noise bringing Sally back to the present. “Derek, did you contact her?”
He shook his head.
“Derek, do you know about Roland?”
“Did he go west?”
“Derek, that’s a horrible thing to say. Roland died in the service of his country. Your mother thinks both her sons are dead.” Sally stood up. “I should send her a telegram or something.”
“Leave it. I’ll do it later. Sit down, woman.”
She glared at him. But he put his heads in his arms and started to cry. Surprised, she stood looking at him for a few seconds before she flung her arms around him. She would have kneeled but for the glass on the floor. He gathered her to him and pulled her onto his knee.
“Oh, Sally love, I can’t believe I hurt you. I’m so sorry. I’d never hit you. You don’t deserve that. You’re what’s kept me alive. The thought of coming back to you, to this house. That’s what kept me sane, or at least as sane as you can be when you are a prisoner.”
Sally held onto him, his painfully-thin, skeletal form making her wonder just what he had experienced. They had seen pictures of the concentration camps and the mountains of bodies on Pathe News but she couldn’t remember seeing anything about the English prisoners of war.
“Why didn’t they tell me you were alive?” Sally hiccupped. “When I got that telegram, I thought I would die too.” But for the children, she might have but she had to behave like normal for their sake. They had been through so much already.
The Road to Liberation: Trials and Triumphs of WWII Page 102
