Homecoming

by Ellie Dean

  ‘My goodness,’ Peggy breathed. ‘They must be almost there by now. What an adventure they’re having.’

  But she found she was talking to herself, for Cordelia had turned off her hearing aid and was fully immersed in a newspaper article about the British Administration in Singapore. She tore open Jim’s letter, disappointed to find it was short and clearly hurried.

  My darling girl ,

  I received your telegram saying the girls were on their way, and I will watch out for them on Sunday, although this is the worst possible place for them to be. I can only hope there is good news regarding Jock and Philip, but going by what I’ve learned already, it’s highly unlikely .

  I write this in haste because there is so little time between my duties, and when I return to my billet, I’m so drained – physically and mentally – that all I want to do is sleep. The heat is the same as in the jungles of Burma, the monsoon clouds are gathering and the humidity is unbearably high – but that isn’t what is so exhausting, Peggy. It’s the sight of the prisoners arriving from the outlying camps that drain the soul from me .

  They are all nationalities, with different horror stories to tell, and amongst them are women, old, young and in between, all of them covered in tropical sores and weakened by starvation and a long list of fevers and diseases. It’s a miracle they’ve survived. But hearing them talk, and seeing how close they’ve become through their ordeal, I’ve realised these women are strong in mind and spirit and have refused to be broken. Though God knows how it will affect them during the rest of their lives .

  However, it’s the children that break my heart, Peggy. Very few have survived – the babies and little ones that were too weak to withstand the brutal regime were buried in the camps spread right across the islands and into Thailand itself. These older children who’ve come through what sounds like hell on earth don’t know how to play and they look at you with eyes that hold the horrors of all they’ve seen and experienced – they’re practically feral and mistrustful of everyone, and who can blame them? In those moments I think of little Daisy, of Cissy and Anne; the grandchildren, and Bob and Charlie, and thank God they never had to go through such a thing .

  I’ve met Elsa Bristow who was a friend of the Fullers, and is now a widow. She’s returned to Singapore as a tireless and rather forceful member of RAPWI, an organisation set up by Mountbatten for the recovery of Allied prisoners of war and internees. Although I fought long and hard against it, she persuaded the powers that be to assign me to help take witness statements from the returning prisoners so the Japanese commanders and guards can be justly punished for their heinous crimes .

  I’m sick at heart, Peggy, for their stories will haunt me to my dying day, and I’ve never wished harder to be back at home with you, and to feel your arms about me, my children at my side. I don’t really think I can believe that you’re all truly safe until I can see you all again .

  I will write again soon, but for now I must try and sleep. I love you with all my heart. Give my children and grandchildren a hug from me and hold them close. They are so very precious .

  Jim xxx

  Peggy fumbled with the thin paper as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn’t bear the thought of Jim having to go through such a horror – but neither could she heal his pain or his longing, and that was what hurt the most.

  She mopped up her tears quickly before Cordelia noticed them and went into her bedroom to look down at their darling little girl who was just stirring. She couldn’t begin to imagine how it must have been for the women who’d had to watch their babies die – to have to bury them in some jungle clearing and then, on liberation, be forced to leave them behind.

  ‘Good morning, sleepyhead,’ she murmured, gathering Daisy into her arms and holding her close. The weight of her was soothing, and she kissed the warm, soft cheek, breathing in the scent of her daughter, thanking God she was safe from harm.

  Daisy began to wriggle and squirm, demanding breakfast, so Peggy released her reluctantly and followed her into the kitchen where the child ran straight to Cordelia for her morning cuddle.

  Cordelia discarded her newspaper and let Daisy clamber onto her lap. Looking at Peggy sharply over the child’s head, she raised a questioning brow.

  ‘Jim’s letter,’ said Peggy quietly, pushing it towards her. ‘I warn you, it doesn’t make easy reading.’

  While Daisy chattered away and ate her breakfast, the two women tried their best to respond, but Jim’s letter had had a profound effect on them both, and they frequently drifted off into their own thoughts.

  Peggy knew she couldn’t just sit here and have Jim’s words going round in her head, evoking terrible images – but then again she couldn’t find the energy to read Ruby’s letter, for she suspected it would be full of her woes, and she’d had enough sadness for one day.

  Once Daisy had finished eating, she sent her out into the garden with Cordelia, got dressed, and tackled the week’s washing. There wasn’t so much of it now there was only the five of them in the house, and before long, it was all out on the line.

  Peggy sat in the garden with Cordelia and played with Daisy in the sandpit, dreaming of the day when she’d have a proper washing machine and could commit the old mangle to the tip – but despite the sunny day, the darkness of what was happening in Singapore seemed to overshadow everything.

  Charlie hadn’t lied to his mother exactly – there was a practice session at the rugby ground though it was much later than he’d implied.

  He swung the holdall containing his sports kit over his shoulder and walked down the twitten to the main road, where he paused. He had several choices, but with the mood he was in they held little appeal. He could go down to the seafront, or along Camden Road towards the playing fields, which would take him past the Anchor, and run the risk of being seen by Ron or Rosie. He didn’t feel like talking, although there were so many thoughts and feelings swirling about inside him he thought he would explode with it all.

  He looked over his shoulder and, after a momentary hesitation, turned back towards the silence and open spaces of the hills that reminded him of Somerset. Ducking quickly out of sight of his mother’s kitchen window, he hurried up the steep incline until he’d reached the top. Pausing to catch his breath, he dumped his kit bag beneath a stand of bright yellow gorse and shoved it out of sight. He’d come back for it later, but for now he needed to think and clear his head.

  He set off at a brisk pace across the tough, windswept grass, the salt-laden breeze ruffling his hair, the sun warm on his face. Gulls mewled and shrieked overhead as they swooped and hovered at the cliff edges, and he could see Frank’s small fleet of fishing boats coming in after a night at sea.

  He stopped to watch until they were lost to sight beneath the overhanging chalk cliff where they would be beached. He enjoyed spending time with Frank and Brendon on the trawlers with the sound of the water slapping at the side of the boats and the night sky filled with stars as they’d heaved in the nets filled with silvery, flapping fish. He didn’t much like having to clean and gut them ready for market, but the money he’d earned during the summer had certainly been welcome.

  Charlie accepted that his grandfather and uncle hoped he would follow in the footsteps of his family and join the long line of Reilly men who’d fished off these shores, but he already knew that wasn’t the life for him. Fishing was a precarious and sometimes dangerous way of earning a living, and although it held little fear for him, his heart was already set on being an engineer.

  He loved engines in all their shapes and sizes, was fascinated by their intricacies, their faults and how to mend them so they ran smoothly again. He hoped one day to work on aircraft, for they were the up-and-coming thing with new technologies being tested almost every day, and he really envied Jane and Sarah’s journey on the seaplane. Air travel would soon be as normal as catching a train, and he couldn’t wait to be a part of this new and exciting venture.

  The money he’d saved had pa
id for a covert bus trip to the county town where he’d had a long, interesting talk to an RAF recruitment officer. It was a thrill to know that if he passed the fitness test and all his school exams, the RAF would take him on at eighteen and pay his university fees. Once he’d gained his degree he would become a fully-fledged engineer and valuable member of the RAF.

  It was something to savour and work towards, but he’d kept it to himself for the time being, as his mother seemed set on him going to the technical college and then staying on in Cliffehaven to work for someone like Jack Smith.

  He dug his hands in his pockets and resumed walking until he reached the abandoned ruins of the farmhouse, and then sat on a fallen, rotting beam to stare out at the fields and hills which spread before him. The summer crops had been harvested, the hay cut and stacked in ricks across the fallow fields. Soon the ploughing and planting would begin for the winter crops, and this made him think about his older brother down in Somerset.

  Charlie missed Bob, even though he could be overbearing and bossy at times – missed the camaraderie of harvest and haymaking – missed the farmhouse and the evenings when they’d all gathered to discuss future plans for the farm. But most of all he missed Auntie Vi. Lovely plump, motherly Vi who’d cuddled him out of his tears and soothed his homesickness with so much love and understanding.

  Tears gathered and he blinked them away as he reached into his pocket for the packet of cigarettes he’d bought from one of the older boys at school. Having lit one, he dug in his pocket again for the quarter bottle of whisky he’d filched from his mother’s larder.

  There wasn’t much left in it, and he doubted she’d notice it was gone, but all the same, he felt rather guilty as he sipped at it and felt the familiar warmth burn his throat. He didn’t really like the taste of the whisky or the cigarette, but they’d become a small defiance against the sense of disorientation he’d been subject to since his homecoming.

  ‘To be sure, I hope ye’ve saved a drop for me,’ said Ron, settling on the beam beside him.

  Charlie had been so deep in his misery that he hadn’t heard him approach, and he started guiltily, quickly stamping out the cigarette. ‘I was just …’

  ‘Aye, I know, wee boy,’ said Ron, taking the bottle from him and draining the last of it. He dropped the bottle into his pocket and eyed the trampled cigarette before taking his time to fill his pipe.

  ‘I saw you coming up here, so left the dogs with Rosie,’ he muttered. ‘It looked as if you had the weight of the world on your shoulders and needed someone to talk to.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Grandad,’ stuttered Charlie. ‘I didn’t mean for you to …’

  ‘It’s grand that you’re sorry, lad, but I’m thinking ’tis only because you’ve been caught. What your mother would say, I dread to think.’

  ‘You won’t tell her, will you?’ he gasped in horror.

  Ron shook his head and puffed contentedly on his pipe for a while. ‘I found it very difficult on my return home from the trenches,’ he said eventually. ‘Things and people were changed, and it took me a long while to repair relationships, find my feet and settle down.’

  Charlie realised this was a cue to talk about his feelings, and although he wanted to, he didn’t know how without sounding pathetic. ‘I’ve found it’s best to just keep my head down and do what’s expected of me,’ he said finally. ‘School’s okay, and I’m enjoying being back in a rugby team again, but …’

  He plucked a dandelion from the grass and proceeded to shred it. ‘I miss Auntie Vi and the farm, my friends, and all the old engines I was working on,’ he said in a rush.

  ‘That’s only natural,’ said Ron calmly. ‘It was your home for five years, and it must have been a wrench to be brought back here where everything is so different.’

  Charlie felt the weight of anxiety slowly lift. His grandfather understood. ‘I want to fit in, really I do,’ he said. ‘But I was just a little kid when Mum sent me away, and nothing’s how I remember it.’

  He was unable to keep the resentment of that banishment from his voice. ‘I don’t know her or Cordelia, and yet I’m expected to feel the same for them as I did when I was eight – and it’s really odd having Daisy about the place even though I knew she’d be here.’

  ‘Your mother still loves you,’ said Ron. ‘She’s always loved you, and sending you away was the hardest thing she’s ever had to do, believe me, wee boy.’

  He took a breath and let it out on a sigh. ‘I know how you must resent being sent away, Charlie, but what you have to understand is that your mother had little choice in the matter. The government at the time was badgering every mother in the land to do the right thing by sending their children away from danger. Peggy was of an age when she could remember how it had been during the First World War, and although she resisted for as long as she dared, the knowledge that this war – like the one in Spain – would be fought from the air, made it more terrifying.’

  Charlie absorbed this in silence as he gazed out at the quiet valley that shimmered in the morning’s heat.

  ‘This might seem peaceful now, but we were living in what became known as “Bomb Alley” during the war,’ Ron continued. ‘You can see for yourself how hard Cliffehaven was hit, and when your school was bombed, Peggy knew she had to protect you. It broke her heart, Charlie, and she’s had to bear the terrible guilt of sending you and Bob away ever since.’

  ‘I never thought of it that way,’ murmured Charlie, feeling sick at heart for his mother’s pain. ‘But why did she stay here and keep Daisy with her? Lots of mums with very small children came with them to our village. We could all have been together then.’

  ‘She knew she was taking a terrible risk, Charlie, but she had responsibilities here with Cordelia and all the evacuees she’d taken in.’ He chewed his pipe stem. ‘I think she needed to keep Daisy by her, especially after your father was sent abroad. Peggy had lost all the rest of her family once you’d gone to Somerset, and Daisy was her only consolation and tie to you all.’

  Charlie remained silent, envying his baby sister’s closeness to their mother, and wishing he didn’t, for it seemed churlish and unfair after what his grandfather had told him. Yet he could remember so clearly how he’d cried and cried once he’d realised the journey was not a new and exciting adventure, but that he was expected to stay there, not knowing when and if he would ever go home again. Through Vi’s love and tenderness he’d knuckled down to getting on with things, and slowly, inevitably, the attachment to his mother and home had dwindled until it was lost.

  ‘It’s been hard for you,’ said Ron into the silence. ‘I can understand how confusing and hurtful it must have been as a small boy to be sent away, but there is another side to it, Charlie.’

  He paused to relight his pipe. ‘Your mother wouldn’t thank me for telling you,’ he went on. ‘But she keeps her grief to herself. This war might have been difficult for you, but for her it was a terrible trial. Not only did it take her sons, daughter and grandchildren away, it took your father to the other side of the world, leaving her to battle on during the numerous air raids, the ever-increasing terror of the V-1s and V-2s and the news that your father had been wounded. And yet through it all she’s remained steadfast in her faith that you’d all come home one day, and be a family again.’

  ‘I do love her, really,’ mumbled Charlie. ‘Of course I do – deep down. But she’s different to what I remember, and I don’t know how to be with her. She’s all hustle and bustle and sharp angles and isn’t at all the same as Auntie Vi. I feel shy around her, especially when she tries to hug and kiss me – and I can’t talk to her about Somerset and Auntie Vi because I can see how upset she gets, and it makes me feel guilty for loving Vi so much. So I keep my thoughts and feelings to myself. But there are times when I think I could burst with it all.’

  Ron clamped a heavy hand on Charlie’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘I’m guessing that today is one of those times, wee lad,’ he murmured. ‘But you don’t
have to bear this on your own, Charlie. Why don’t you talk to me, so I can understand and maybe do something about it?’

  Charlie heaved a ragged sigh and blinked rapidly against the gathering tears. ‘I don’t know that there’s anything you can do,’ he said helplessly. ‘I’m stuck here now, and will just have to make the best of things.’

  ‘Aye. But you’re intelligent enough to know that whisky and cigarettes aren’t the answer, son,’ said Ron with a smile in his voice.

  There was a long silence between them, and Charlie realised in horror that fat tears were rolling down his face as the great dam he’d built to hold back his emotions began to crumble.

  Then he felt Ron’s strong arms about him, holding him tightly against his broad chest. The dam burst and all the anguish and anxiety flooded out, enabling him to finally speak from the heart and ultimately begin to heal.

  They’d just finished their lunch of home-made vegetable soup and toast, and Cordelia had returned to the garden with Daisy so Peggy could read Ruby’s letter.

  It was as she’d thought, for Ruby was clearly finding it very hard to settle in Canada. Peggy was initially delighted to read that there was a baby on the way, but Ruby was feeling sorry for herself in the misery of morning sickness. The logging season would soon begin and she was dreading the long weeks when Mike would be away from home and the small, isolated settlement was cut off from the world by snow so deep it would be impossible for the men to come home even for a short while.

  She’d heard the timber wolves howling and seen a couple of black bears moving in the trees behind the house, and despite all her determination to fit in with this new and very different life, she couldn’t help but yearn for Cliffehaven and Beach View. She confided that there had been times when, like the wolves, she just wanted to howl at the moon.