Lost Angel

by Kitty Neale

  ‘What woman?’

  ‘Don’t you remember? It was when we were sheltering in the underground. She told Mum about a vision, that she’d seen Dad on a raft and he was coming home.’

  Though still clinging to him like a limpet, Hilda turned her head, eyes alight with happiness. ‘Yes, she was right, and I’ll never pooh-pooh people like her again.’

  It was some time before they settled, and Hilda couldn’t take her eyes off Doug. She still couldn’t believe it, still felt she was dreaming as she handed him a cup of tea.

  ‘Doug, what happened to you? Why didn’t you write to tell me that you survived?’

  ‘As I said, it’s a long story.’

  ‘I’d still like to hear it.’

  ‘All right, but to make sense of it I’ll have to start at the beginning. It’s true that my ship went down. It was struck by a torpedo when we were in the South Atlantic and when a second one hit we began to list to starboard. It was pandemonium: fires, explosions, the fight to lower boats. By then we were listing so badly that it was impossible and, with no other choice, we began to scramble over the sides. My one thought as I plunged into the sea among debris and oil was to get as far away from the ship as possible.’

  ‘Oh, Doug,’ Hilda gasped.

  ‘I ain’t much of a swimmer and thought I was a goner, but thankfully I managed to grab hold of a piece of debris that was floating past. I don’t know what it was, but it was wooden and floating so I scrambled onto it and paddled like mad.’

  ‘That woman said you were on a raft,’ Mabel said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sorry, Doug, I shouldn’t have interrupted you.’

  ‘That’s all right. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, I was paddling like mad to get away. After a while my arms were screaming with pain and I had to stop, looking back to see a scene that was like something out of Dante’s hell. There were men in the water, some surrounded by ignited fuel, screaming, shouting, and others still on board, clinging on for dear life as the ship went down, bow first.’

  ‘It must have been awful,’ Hilda murmured.

  ‘It was, but it got worse. I was about to paddle back to see if I could pick anyone up when the U-boat surfaced.’

  For a moment Doug closed his eyes, his mouth tight with anger when he spoke again. ‘The bastards opened fire, gunning down the men in the water, and me, well, I got one in the back and another in the head.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Hilda exclaimed.

  ‘Yeah, well, as you can see, neither killed me.

  I don’t know how many days I drifted, or in which direction as I floated in and out of consciousness. When I was picked up by an American ship, it seems I was in a bad way, but I don’t remember it, only really coming to when I was taken to a navy hospital in Trinidad.’

  ‘But if you were rescued, why wasn’t I told?’

  ‘Nobody recognised me at the hospital. My uniform was in tatters and I didn’t have any form of identification on me.’

  ‘But you must have told them who you are.’

  ‘That’s just it, I couldn’t. The bullet I took in the head must have done something to my memory. It wasn’t a bad wound, yet I couldn’t remember a thing. I was taken to the operating theatre to remove the bullet from my back and it took a long time to recover from that.’

  ‘Are you all right now?’ Hilda asked worriedly.

  ‘My back is never going to be perfect again, and I’m not fit for action.’

  ‘Dad, does this mean you’re home for good?’ Ellen asked excitedly.

  ‘It depends on the medical board – but probably.’

  Hilda could have danced with joy, but she managed to remain seated. There would be so much to sort out, not least her war widow’s pension, and she had no idea what would change financially for them. Would Doug still receive army pay? She pushed all this to one side for now as Doug spoke again.

  ‘Anyway, to cut this long story short, thanks to the care I got, my memory slowly came back. I didn’t want to remember the ship going down – the crew in the water, the gunning, the slaughter – and the chap who was helping me said that the trauma might have been the root cause of my memory loss. Once I was able to recall it, the rest followed, and, well, here I am.’

  Hilda couldn’t hold herself back. She wanted to be in Doug’s arms again, to feel him, and moved to sit on his lap. ‘I still can’t believe you’re really here.’

  ‘Well, I am, and ain’t it about time someone fed me? Three women here and not one of you has offered to cook me something to eat.’

  ‘I’m not a woman, Dad,’ Ellen protested.

  ‘Well, by the look of you, you’re not far off.’

  Despite the horror of Doug’s story, Hilda was smiling as she rose to her feet. Her man was home, he was here to stay, and the part of her she thought had died with him came to life again.

  Chapter 24

  For Ellen the following weeks were joyous ones. She felt that she not only had her dad back, she had her mother too. Laughter often rang out in the cottage now, though she had noticed that Mabel had become subdued. Billy was still rarely in and, as Ellen could no longer share her mum’s bedroom, she was given his room while he slept on the sofa downstairs.

  Ellen couldn’t get the woman who’d had the vision out of her mind now. Dora had said that anything to do with fortune telling was wrong, against God’s teachings, but how could it be? If her mum had believed the woman she wouldn’t have suffered for so long thinking that her dad was dead – she’d have known he was coming home. There was so much Ellen wanted to know now, to find out, her curiosity about such things renewed.

  In this sleepy village it was impossible to find out much, but Sheila had told her about a woman her mother once went to who read some kind of stones, called runes. The two friends were sneaking off to see her now, her cottage on the outskirts of the village.

  Sheila knocked on the ancient-looking door, both girls looking nervously at each other, but then it was opened by what looked like a very, very old woman.

  ‘Yes, me dears, what can I do for you?’

  ‘Er…er, we’ve been told you can tell fortunes,’ Ellen stammered.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ the woman invited.

  The cottage was dim, the walls unpainted grey stone, but a fire burned in the hearth. The old woman sat down in a rocking chair, close to the warmth, her small, dark eyes roaming over them.

  ‘Sit down, but I think you’re a bit young to be asking me to cast the runes.’

  ‘We’re fourteen, and we’re both at work,’ Ellen protested. ‘We can pay you.’

  ‘I don’t want your money. I just want to know what brings you to me.’

  ‘Er, well, you see,’ Ellen began nervously, gaining a bit more confidence as she told of the woman who’d had the vision about her dad and how she was now curious about such things.

  ‘So now you seek answers?’

  ‘Well…yes. You see, I don’t understand. Why does the church say that things like that are wrong, against God?’

  ‘I’m not a wise woman, just a simple one. I’ve gone my own way, this way of life my choosing, and I can’t speak for the church.’

  ‘Come on, Ellen, we should go,’ Sheila urged.

  ‘Wait,’ the old woman said, and taking out a small, purple silk bag, she shook it before drawing out some stones. Her eyes seemed strange now, unfocused, as though she was looking at Ellen, but through her as she cast the selection. The stones had strange markings on them, some sort of symbols that Ellen didn’t understand, and now the old woman studied them.

  ‘You have travelled, and will travel again. Much is before you: happiness, pain and grief. Your search will continue, until one day you will be given a sign that will at last bring you peace.’

  ‘I…I don’t understand.’

  ‘When you see the sign you will remember me and my words. The stones have nothing more to say.’ And with that she stood up, shuffling across the room to open the door.

  Sh
eila was the first out, barely saying goodbye as she hurried off, and, after thanking the woman, Ellen ran after her.

  ‘What’s the matter? Why did you dash off like a scalded cat?’

  ‘There was something about her I didn’t like,’ Sheila scowled. ‘And, anyway, it was a waste of time. She could tell you’re a Londoner, so of course you’ve travelled, and as for the rest of it, everyone has happiness and pain in their lives; we’ll all have to face grief too. That reading could have been for anyone, something I could have told you without casting rune stones.’

  ‘Yes, maybe, but she also said I’d see a sign.’

  ‘If you ask me she didn’t see anything in those daft stones and only said that to make you think that she’s some sort of mystic.’

  Ellen wasn’t convinced, her mind still on the old woman as they made their way home. A sign, she had said. What sort of sign?

  A few more days passed, and when Ellen woke up on Friday morning, she looked out of the window to see that snow had stopped falling, but it was still cold as she hurriedly dressed to go downstairs. Almost reaching the kitchen, she paused, her ears pricked. Surely she’d misheard? Surely Mabel hadn’t said she was going back to London? Ellen remained out of sight, listening.

  ‘Why, Mabel?’ her mother asked. ‘Surely it’s too risky?’

  ‘I feel in the way now and it’s for the best.’

  ‘Look, just because Doug’s come home, it doesn’t mean you’re in the way.’

  ‘You need time on your own.’

  ‘We get that. Nowadays you’re always popping out to see Mrs Jones, and gone for hours.’

  ‘She likes a bit of company.’

  ‘Come on, Mabel, what’s this really about? Have I done something to upset you?’

  ‘Of course you haven’t.’

  ‘Then why?’

  ‘I’m too embarrassed to tell you.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. We’ve been friends for years and there’s nothing we don’t know about each other.’

  ‘All right, I’ll tell you the truth. It’s hearing you and Doug. My bedroom’s next door to yours and as my Jack hasn’t been home for such a long time, it’s driving me mad with frustration listening to you.’

  Ellen knew that if she walked into the room they’d stop talking, so she continued to stand out of sight. What did Mabel mean? Why did sleeping in the next room to her parents drive her mad with frustration?

  ‘Oh, Mabel,’ her mother now said, ‘now it’s me who’s embarrassed.’

  ‘You’re only doing what’s natural, but that bed don’t ’arf squeak.’

  ‘Mabel!’

  ‘Look at you. You’ve gone as red as a beetroot.’

  ‘No wonder I’m blushing. I had no idea that you could hear us making love last night.’

  ‘Now that you know, you’ll want your privacy.’

  ‘With Doug’s back playing him up, we…well…we don’t do it that often. Anyway, privacy or not, I don’t want you going back to London. There’s Billy to think about too. He’d go mad if you try to drag him away from those horses.’

  ‘I’m sure the war won’t last much longer, and we’d have to go back then. It might as well be now as later.’

  ‘If it’s only hearing me and Doug that’s brought this on we can soon solve that. You can swap rooms with Ellen.’

  Ellen bit on her lower lip. They were talking about lovemaking, but it was something she knew little about. All her mother had ever told her was that she’d been born under a gooseberry bush, which made no sense at all, and other than that all she’d heard were playground whispers when she’d been at school.

  ‘What are you up to, pumpkin?’

  Startled, Ellen turned to see her father coming down the stairs. ‘Noth…nothing,’ she blustered. ‘I’ve just got up.’

  His eyebrows rose sceptically, but then he smiled. ‘Yes, me too.’

  ‘It’s about time,’ Hilda said as they walked into the room.

  ‘Have a heart,’ Doug protested. ‘You know my back was bad when I woke up this morning.’

  ‘I wonder why?’ Mabel chuckled.

  Ellen saw her mother flush, but then she said, ‘Ellen, after you’ve had breakfast I want you to move your things into Mabel’s room. You’re swapping.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Never you mind. Just do as you’re told, and Doug, I’ll tell you why later.’

  ‘Fair enough. Now, woman, where’s me grub?’

  ‘I’ll give you woman,’ she threatened.

  ‘Lovely. How many?’

  ‘I said woman, not women.’

  ‘What a shame. It’d be nice to have a harem.’

  ‘Oh, would it now?’ Hilda said, hands on hips and glaring up at him. ‘Well, Douglas Stone, you can forget it. This woman is the only one you’re getting.’

  ‘Maybe it’s just as well. You’re enough to handle as it is.’

  ‘Yeah, and last night he did plenty of handling.’

  ‘Mabel!’

  ‘Sorry, love, but you’ve got to admit it’s funny.’

  ‘What’s funny?’ Doug asked.

  ‘Don’t ask,’ Hilda insisted. ‘Now, sit down, the pair of you, and I’ll see to your breakfasts.’

  Ellen smiled. Her mother was back on form, her dad joking, and it seemed that Mabel would be staying, though it remained a mystery why she had wanted to leave. Perhaps she could ask Sheila. She might know what lovemaking was.

  Billy was deep in thought as he mucked out a stable. Doug had said that the end of the war was in sight now, and if he was right, Billy knew it meant they’d go back to London. It was funny really, and he hadn’t expected to feel like this, but Billy didn’t want to go. He loved the horses, and even loved the smell of the stables, finding no distaste at shovelling up horse shit, or manure, as Mr Dunning insisted he called it.

  ‘Well done, Billy,’ the old man said as he walked up to him.

  ‘Do you reckon the war will be over soon?’

  ‘Yes, lad, but why the long face?’

  ‘When it is, my mum will want to go back to London.’

  Mr Dunning pursed his lips, his eyes thoughtful, and then said, ‘When this lot’s over, our troops will be coming home, and no doubt looking for jobs again, but I’ll have room for a decent stable lad. If you want to stay, the job will still be yours.’

  Billy felt a surge of excitement, which quickly deflated. ‘Thanks, Mr Dunning, it’s good of you to offer, but once my mum and the Stones go back to London, I won’t have anywhere to live.’

  ‘I’m sure we can sort some accommodation, and if you like I’ll have a chat with your mother. For now, though, get on with your work.’

  As the man walked away, Billy jumped in the air, clicking his heels together, his fist raised to punch the air with delight.

  For the rest of the day Billy worked steadily, but when it was time to leave, he almost ran all the way home, saying as he rushed into the cottage, ‘Mum, Mr Dunning said that if I want to stay on after the war, he can find me somewhere to live.’

  ‘Has he now? Well, you can forget it. When we go back, I’m not leaving you here.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Billy, you’re only fourteen.’

  ‘Mum, please, I’d never find a job working with horses in London.’

  ‘You could try the Young’s brewery. They use drays.’

  ‘No, it won’t be the same. I want to stay here.’

  ‘Ellen said the same thing when I told her we were leaving Somerset,’ Hilda observed, ‘but I didn’t expect to hear it from you, Billy.’

  ‘I feel the same now,’ said Ellen. ‘I’d like to stay here too.’

  ‘Well, we can’t,’ Hilda said. ‘This cottage isn’t ours and when the war’s over we’ll have to leave.’

  ‘I like life in the country too.’

  ‘I know, Doug, but what choice have we got? We’ll have nowhere to live, no jobs, but at least we’ve got a home to go back to in London.’

  ‘Yeah,’
Mabel agreed, ‘and, anyway, my Percy’s in London. Not only that, when Jack comes home I want to be there, waiting for him.’

  ‘All right, Mum, you go,’ Billy said, ‘but I’ll stay.’

  ‘If you think I’m leaving you here, you must be out of your mind.’

  ‘Hold on, Mabel. Surely if Billy is old enough to work, he’s old enough to make his own decisions?’ Doug said. ‘If he’s really keen on keeping the job and if Mr Dunning is willing to keep an eye on him, I don’t think you should stand in his way.’

  Billy smiled gratefully at Doug, but the smile was short-lived as his mother reared to her feet. ‘So you’d leave Ellen to fend for herself at the age of fourteen, would you?’

  ‘Well, no, but Billy’s a boy.’

  ‘You said it, Doug,’ snapped Mabel. ‘He’s a boy, not a man. Not only that, this is my decision, not yours.’

  ‘All right, you have a point. I’m sorry for sticking my nose in,’ Doug said, smiling ruefully.

  Billy knew he had lost then, and with no appetite now he said, ‘I’m going out for a walk.’

  ‘Hold on, what about your dinner?’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ he said, stomping out.

  ‘Billy!’ Mabel shouted.

  ‘I’ll go after him,’ Ellen said, grabbing her coat and running out before her mother could stop her. Ellen could see how upset Billy was when she caught up with him and said, ‘I’m sorry. I know how you feel.’

  ‘It ain’t bleedin’ fair. I don’t want to go back to soddin’ London.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  Their eyes met as he said, ‘We’ve got something in common then.’

  Ellen flushed, and quickly looked away. Since Billy had arrived she’d been confused by her feelings, but he’d been so wrapped up in his job that he’d hardly spared her a glance.

  They turned the corner to see Sheila coming out of her cottage, her younger brother, Colin, with her.

  ‘Hello,’ Sheila called.

  ‘Hello,’ Ellen called back, thinking how much her friend Sheila reminded her of Lucy, both with blonde, curly hair, blue eyes, their features doll-like.