by Maureen Lee
The country began to prepare for an invasion: roads were blocked, signposts removed, milestones uprooted. Strikes were banned, Bank Holidays cancelled. Wrecked cars were strategically placed on corners and grass verges for use as barricades by troops if the enemy should dare to land. People were warned to keep an eye out for parachutists. Aliens were hurriedly rounded up, mainly Germans and Italians, and sent to internment camps; many of their shops and businesses were attacked. Church bells were silenced, except as a warning that the invasion had started, and every household received a leaflet entitled, IF THE INVADER COMES.
Britain collectively squared its shoulders and committed itself utterly to the war effort, whilst an even more implacable hatred built up against the enemy, Hitler.
And, a few days after Black Monday, Wing Commander Fulford having kept his promise, Nick Stephens heard he was being released from civilian duties and had been accepted in the RAF.
Nick met Eileen outside Dunnings with the news.
‘When are you going?’ she whispered as they walked to his cottage.
‘Sunday.’
‘That soon!’ It was only three days away.
‘They need every pilot they can lay their hands on. It’s going to be a war in the air from now on.’ His dark eyes were serious, as if the enormity of what lay ahead had only just sunk in.
She wanted to cry, ‘Please don’t go! I can’t live without you!’ but knew she had to put on a brave face. It wasn’t fair on Nick to collapse into tears in front of him.
‘I’ll miss you,’ she said, trying to smile.
‘I should hope so! I shall certainly miss you.’
As soon as they were inside the door, Nick took her in his arms and they made love, clinging to each other hungrily, knowing that their time together was limited.
‘Why don’t you and Tony come and stay on Saturday night?’ he suggested, as they lay on the floor in front of the empty fireplace wrapped in each other’s arms. ‘It means we’ll have a whole twenty-four hours together. Lord knows when we’ll see each other again.’
Eileen needed no persuading. ‘We’ll come first thing Saturday morning,’ she promised. ‘Tony’s dying to see you.’
Nick began to nibble at her ear. ‘I hate being a secret. I want to come and see you openly, walk down Pearl Street with you on my arm.’
‘Don’t do that, Nick!’ The nibbling was sending a delicious sensation through her entire body. It always did.
He looked down at her, smiling slyly, ‘Why not?’
‘You know damn well why not. Oh, God!’ She could stand it no longer. She ran her hands down his body. He was ready for her again. ‘Once more,’ she pleaded. ‘Just once more, then I’ll have to go back to work.’
Saturday turned out to be a gloriously sunny day. The three of them did little, except go for walks, eat, and laze in Nick’s big, wild, overgrown garden, where Tony found some ripe strawberries and made himself sick eating every single one.
In the evening, they strolled to the local pub and sat on a bench outside drinking home-brewed cider, whilst Tony had a lemonade.
‘I understand you’re off to give Adolf Hitler a good kick up the arse,’ the landlord said to Nick when he came out to collect the glasses.
‘I certainly hope so,’ Nick said modestly.
‘Well, give him a kick from me while you’re at it.’ The man glanced from Eileen to Tony, then back to Nick. ‘So, this is your family, eh? You’ve never brought them before.’
‘That’s right,’ said Nick. ‘This is my family, and I think it’s about time I took them home.’
‘Good luck and take care!’ Nick’s hand was shaken fiercely. ‘Give them Jerries hell.’
They went home and had a light supper and Tony went to bed without a word of complaint, as if he realised it was time for his mam and Nick to be alone. ‘Let’s go outside for a while,’ Nick said. ‘I think this is the longest day of the year.’
They sat on the striped deckchairs, chatting idly.
‘I know nothing about you,’ Eileen said sadly. She felt slightly tipsy, although she’d only had half a pint of cider. It must have been very strong.
‘You know everything!’ he protested indignantly.
‘Only big things, like how you feel about religion and war and politics. I don’t know the little things – your favourite colour, for instance.’
‘I haven’t got one. I haven’t got a favourite anything, except woman, and you’re it!’
‘You need to live with someone to find out the little things.’
‘Darling, you could have moved in with me months and months ago,’ he said, ‘then you’d know everything there is to know. How often I cut my nails, for instance, how much toothpaste I use, the funny way I tie my shoelaces, the …’
‘Don’t, Nick!’ She put her hand on his arm. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and the flesh felt warm to the touch. He’d caught the sun during the day and he was browner than ever, a lovely deep bronze. She was conscious of the tiny hairs as she rubbed his arm with her thumb.
‘If you do that for much longer,’ he said seriously after a while, ‘I shall drag you down onto the grass and make you pay.’
‘In the open air!’ she responded, pretending to be shocked.
‘That’s right. With all the neighbours looking on.’
In fact, the cottage was too isolated for the garden to be overlooked – and Tony was asleep in the front bedroom!
Eileen rubbed her thumb even harder. Nick stood up and dragged her from the chair and they fell together onto the rough lawn, laughing.
The grass felt cool underneath her body. She’d never thought that making love to Nick could have got better, but there was an added zest, an extra air of excitement to doing it in the open air.
When it was over, they stayed where they were, Eileen with her head in the crook of his arm, as dusk began to fall.
‘It’s uncanny,’ she said. ‘It’s gone eleven, yet it’s still light.’ With the extra hours of daylight, it didn’t get properly dark until midnight.
‘I think we’d better go in,’ said Nick, stretching. ‘It’ll get damp soon.’
‘Have you got any cocoa?’
‘There might be a tin around with a few lumps left at the bottom.’
‘Oh, Nick! You’re a terrible housewife!’
‘I need looking after,’ he said pathetically.
Eileen sat up. ‘Give me your shirt?’
He looked at her incredulously. ‘Are you going to wash it here and now?’
‘No, I’m going to wear it. I’m not making cocoa with nothing on. And you can just put your trousers back on, too, else I won’t put any sugar in yours.’
‘You’re a hard woman, Eileen Costello!’ he said darkly. ‘I shall miss being bossed around.’
It was the first reference all day to the fact he would soon be gone.
Eileen stared at him silently for several seconds, then leapt to her feet and ran into the house, fighting to hold back the tears. By the time Nick came in, she’d put the kettle on, found the tin of lumpy cocoa, and recovered her composure a little.
‘What’s happening to the cottage, Nick?’ she asked with forced brightness. There seemed little reason for him, a southerner, to keep the place on whilst he was gone. His reply took her totally by surprise.
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I’ve bought it. I thought it would do for us once we’re married. I know it’s only small,’ he added hastily, misreading her look of amazement, ‘but we can have it extended at the side.’
‘Oh, Nick!’ She flung herself into his arms. ‘Thank you,’ she cried. ‘I love it here – and so does Tony.’
‘I assumed you wouldn’t want to move too far from your family.’
‘I don’t. Sheila can bring her kids out. They’ll love the garden, and Annie and Jess, once she has the baby. Me dad’s always wanted to grow vegetables …’
‘Hold on a minute!’ Nick threw his arms up in despair. ‘I bought it for you,
for us, not the whole of Pearl Street!’
‘You mustn’t half be well off, to be able to buy a house,’ she said in awe.
‘It was only two hundred and fifty quid.’
‘Only!’ She began to press the lumps of cocoa into powder, then added the boiling water, milk and sugar. They carried the drinks into the living room.
‘You’ve never asked, have you, Eileen, about money?’ Nick said curiously. ‘I mean, you’ve never wanted to know if I had any.’
‘I still don’t want to know,’ Eileen said flatly.
Nick was bent over the cup, stirring it with a spoon. She realised he was deliberately avoiding her eyes.
‘The reason I brought the subject up,’ he said casually, ‘is I do have a bit my father left me, and I made a will the other day, leaving everything I possess to you, including the cottage.’
Which only went to show, Eileen thought bleakly, that he acknowledged the possibility he might not come back. She wanted to yell at him, to scream that he could have stayed, he didn’t have to go, and that it was him she wanted, not his house, not his money. Instead, she said politely, ‘Thank you very much.’
‘I’ll give you a key. It may be useful to come here, when, if, the air raids start.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘I’d hate to come back and find you and Tony weren’t here for me.’
Eileen pondered silently for a while, wondering what horrors might lie in store for her, for everyone throughout the country, throughout Europe. Why, right now, Hitler might have started to cross the English Channel. She closed her eyes and imagined big, dark ships forging through the water towards the south coast. She saw the decks packed with German soldiers wearing those sinister helmets, with the Nazi swastika on their sleeves.
‘Switch the wireless on, quick,’ she said, panicking. ‘We’ll just catch the midnight bulletin.’ They’d deliberately not listened to the wireless all day.
But if the invasion had begun, the BBC didn’t know about it.
‘Let’s go to bed,’ Eileen said urgently. ‘There’s not much time left, and Nick …’
He reached for her. ‘What, darling?’
‘Tonight, don’t take precautions …’
‘Are you mad?’ His mouth fell open in an expression of total shock, and she’d never known his voice so hard and incredulous.
‘But, Nick,’ she began, thinking he was worried how she’d manage on her own with a baby.
Before she could continue, he interrupted hoarsely, ‘Do you seriously think I’d bring a child into the world at this moment in time? For Chrissakes, woman, if the Germans landed, I’d seriously think about killing you and Tony! To create a new life now would be sheer insanity.’
She hadn’t realised he had such a terrible vision of the future. There was nothing of the little boy about him at the moment. You’d think he’d lived a hundred bitter years, the way he spoke.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. A baby, Nick’s baby, would be the best possible thing to remember him by if … Tears threatened again and she blinked them back.
‘I’m sorry, too, for losing my rag.’ As they went upstairs, Eileen first, he slid his hands under the shirt and pulled her back against him. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for children, Eileen, once it’s all over.’
Eileen didn’t bother to argue, but his last words were at odds with those he’d uttered previously.
Once in bed, they made love feverishly, but Eileen couldn’t get Nick’s furious outburst out of her mind. It didn’t seem possible, she thought, that they’d come through it all and live happily ever after.
She woke up with a jump when it was still dark. She’d been dreaming that the dark ships had landed, that the soldiers were running up the south coast beaches, bayonets poised, ready to strike …
After that, sleep refused to return, so she got up, put Nick’s shirt on and went downstairs, where she made a cup of tea and pretended to read a book until a glimmer of light appeared round the edge of the blackout curtains and she went outside.
A strange white mist hung over the garden, seemingly solid, and suspended about three feet from the ground. She walked into it, intrigued, and when she turned back, the cottage had disappeared! The grass was soaking under her bare feet. There were plopping noises everywhere, and when she investigated, she found large drops of moisture falling from the trees and the bushes. They sparkled as they slid from leaf to leaf like a little waterfall of jewels. Eileen knelt and caught several drops in the palms of her hands and rubbed them on her face. It made her skin feel fresh and invigorated.
She walked further into the garden. There was nothing to be seen except the white mist which surrounded her on all sides. She had the same feeling she’d had before on many occasions in her life, even when she was a little girl, that she was the only person left on earth, but this time it wasn’t unpleasant, but strangely comforting.
Suddenly, the mist lifted, simply disappeared, as if someone had waved a wand and ordered it to go. A little slice of brilliant sun appeared over the crumbling brick wall on her right, like a section of an orange. Gradually, as she watched, the slice grew bigger and she felt a welcome warmth on her face.
Then Nick called to her from the back door.
She stared at him, the man she loved, across the long untidy lawn, dotted with daisies and yellow dandelions. Roses had begun to uncurl their velvet leaves from within the tangle of shrubs and ivy clinging to the walls, and a tractor chugged in the distance. There were strange scents in the air; the earthy smell of soil, of flowers, grass, and things that she, from town, didn’t recognise.
‘Nick!’
She hurried towards him, wondering if this would be the last time she would run to her lover across the wet grass, the sun on her face? Perhaps they would never know another morning together.
‘There’s my girl.’ He caught her in his arms. ‘Have I ever told you how much I love you?’
‘No, not once, but there’s still time,’ she cried.
But not much time. In another five hours, he would be gone.
Nick left on his motorbike at midday. He had to report in at an Air Force base near Ipswich by nine o’clock next morning. The journey would be hazardous without signposts to guide him.
‘I’ve got my identity card handy, in case anyone thinks I’m a spy when I ask for directions,’ he joked.
‘Take care,’ Eileen whispered.
‘You, too.’ He lifted Tony up and gave him a vigorous hug. ‘Keep an eye on your mam for me, won’t you, son?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after her,’ Tony promised stoutly.
‘Bye, love.’ It was little more than a peck on the cheek he gave her, but Eileen knew there were tears in his eyes he didn’t want her to see.
He climbed on the bike, started it up, and, with a wave, was gone. Eileen watched until the bike rounded a bend, Nick still waving. She still watched, even when it had disappeared from sight and the sound of the engine had faded.
‘Oh, well,’ she said, sighing. ‘That’s it, then.’
‘Are we going home, now, Mam?’
She came down to earth at the sound of her son’s voice. ‘Not just yet, luv. I’ll tidy up a bit first.’
‘Can I play outside?’
‘If you like.’ He trotted beside her as they went down the path. ‘Do you like it here, Tony?’
‘It’s the gear. You can’t half play football in the garden.’
‘Would you like to live here all the time?’ she asked cautiously. She was glad he was with her as they entered the house, which would have seemed so empty otherwise, without Nick.
‘You mean sleep here every night?’
‘That’s right.’
He wrinkled his nose. ‘I’m not sure. Would I still see Dominic and Grandad?’
‘Not every day, like you do now, only at weekends.’ She began to collect the dishes and take them into the kitchen.
‘I suppose it depends,’ Tony said in a funny voice.
Eileen looked at
him as she ran water into the washing-up bowl. It was important to keep busy at the present time. ‘Depends on what?’ she asked.
‘On whether Nick will be here, too.’
Eileen pursed her lips. ‘Nick will be here,’ she said, wondering why she sounded so angry.
‘In that case, I’d quite like it.’ Tony began to kick the ball against the wall.
‘Don’t do that in here, luv. Do it in the garden.’
‘Mam?’
‘Yes, luv?’ She tried not to sound irritable, knowing she was being unreasonable. She wanted him there, but the thud of the ball was getting on her nerves.
‘What’s going to happen to me dad?’ Tony knew there was something strange going on between his parents, something he didn’t understand.
‘Oh, luv!’ Eileen withdrew her hands from the sink and dried them on the teatowel. ‘I suppose it’s about time you knew. Come on, let’s sit in the garden and I’ll try and explain.’
The next day at work, Doris expressed surprise when Eileen joined them in the canteen queue for dinner.
‘Have you and Nick had a row?’ she asked, grinning broadly.
‘No. I didn’t tell you, but he’s been called up. He’s joined the RAF. By now, he should have arrived in Ipswich.’ Eileen tried to imagine him in the blue uniform, but it was too much. She burst into tears.
‘Eileen! Oh, luv, why didn’t you tell us before?’
The women crowded round protectively. Hands reached out to comfort her. Carmel provided a hankie to mop her wet face.
‘Here, girl, have a fag.’ Theresa thrust the pack under Eileen’s nose, whilst Lil stroked her hair.
‘I’ll get you a cup of tea,’ said Pauline, as Eileen was led, sobbing, to an empty table.
At the receiving end of such sincere and heartfelt sympathy, Eileen only cried more. After months spent working together, the girls had become as close as a family and were fiercely loyal to each other. They might say a few words behind another’s back, but let someone from outside the workshop utter a word of criticism of one of their mates and they’d receive short shrift. Eileen Costello may well have been rather quiet for their liking and never joined in the often ribald conversation. She was also married yet having a bit on the side, and many a coarse joke was cracked when she waltzed off at dinner time for a quickie with her boyfriend. Even so, she was one of theirs! Her tragedy was shared by them all.
