Soul Searching

by Chrissie Loveday

  Nigel set off at a run and turned at the end of the road to give her a wave.

  ‘How did it go, love?’ asked her mother anxiously.

  ‘Okay, thanks. He’s quite sweet really.’

  ‘Didn’t ask you to do owt you didn’t want to?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. He says he thinks it’ll all be over pretty soon. The war I mean. Can you imagine it? We seem to have been waiting forever for it all to end.’

  ‘Aye, well, I’ll believe it when I see it happening. Now, do you want anything to drink?’

  ‘No ta. I’ll get on up to bed if that’s all right. Dad at the club?’

  ‘Yes. Where else would he be? You go on up.’

  ‘He seems to like the new club. Night then. See you in the morning.’

  ‘I hope your young man was right about it ending. I’ve nearly had as much as I can take.’

  *

  Six weeks later, the news broke that Hitler had committed suicide. He and Eva Braun had done the deed in his bunker in Berlin. Everyone was glued to their radios to hear each bit of news as it reached the studios. The German soldiers had surrendered and all over Europe there was rejoicing. There were many horrors still to be discovered. Ruth was particularly upset when she heard about the camps of Bergen-Belsen and Dachau that were uncovered. She thought again of Paul and what he must have suffered. Though she had no idea of whether he had been anywhere near there, it was still almost the worst part of the war. But it was now Victory in Europe that was waiting to be celebrated. It had been put out on the news that the next day was to be a general holiday. The Prime Minister was going to broadcast a speech at three o’clock the following day. They all knew the war was over but until it was finally confirmed, nobody could quite begin to celebrate. People spent the morning looking out old bunting and flags. Even Mabel found a somewhat battered old flag and got it ready to hang from one of the upstairs windows.

  At three o’clock precisely, everyone was clustered round the radio.

  ‘In all our long history,’ Mr Churchill said, ‘we have never seen a day like this.’

  Ruth and her mother sat with tears streaming down their faces. It was almost unbelievable. All those years of deprivation and suffering and men being killed… it was now over. There a knock at the door. It was one of their neighbours.

  ‘We thought it’d be nice for the children if we could all make some sandwiches and have a bit of a party.’

  ‘I think I’ve got some paste in the cupboard. I can use that. Course we’ll help celebrate. Isn’t it wonderful? I can hardly believe it,’ said Mabel.

  For Ruth and her family, it was the answer to their prayers. This final day of celebration had arrived. They set to work making a plate of sandwiches and Ruth made some biscuits out of a bit of flour they had left and some ginger. They were a bit hard but nobody would ever mind.

  Dan was standing out in the back garden, staring up at the sky.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ asked Ruth, going out to stand by him.

  ‘I’m just looking at the clear sky. No planes flying over and no need to take shelter for any of us. I just hope our Jimmy’s all right and Annie’s husband.’

  ‘And I can’t help remembering Paul.’

  ‘Aye, and Paul. It’s bin a sad time for many of us.’ He subsided into his contemplation again and Ruth left him.

  Mabel was busy trying to find a way to hang her flag and Ruth went to help her. At last they managed to trap it in the window and she felt happy.

  ‘Now I feel I’ve done my bit to show the world how glad I am it’s all over.’

  ‘I think it’s still going on in Japan, though. I bet a lot of folks are still suffering.’

  ‘I suppose so, love. But allow me to feel relief that we’re all right.’ Ruth squeezed her hand and smiled, knowing she didn’t need to say anything.

  *

  That evening, they all went up to the nearest town for a party and general fun and jollification with people from all around. Someone had even dug out some fireworks which were set off later on. There was a huge crowd round the big tree at the top of the town and everyone was cheering and happy. Several of them were positively drunk and asked just about every female for a kiss. Nobody objected as they were all so happy and relieved. There were a lot of soldiers in the crowd, some of the lucky ones who had got back home quickly or were on leave. Small children rode on their parents’ shoulders, cheering too – for what, they had little idea. Flags were being waved, some of them old and tattered looking but nobody minded. A new spirit had infused them all. This was the start of their new, post war lives. They didn’t have to use the blackout curtains any more and people stripped off the tape from their windows.

  ‘Nobody’s going to drop a bomb on us any more,’ Mabel had said, happily pulling it off the next day.

  ‘I’m going to be looking for a new job, I suppose,’ Ruth commented.

  ‘I doubt that, love. You said they’ll keep the factory open for months if not years. I don’t know what they’ll do there but I reckon they’ll need some folks to do their typing. As for me, well, I’ll hope to go back to the china factory eventually.’ Her dad was always the optimist.

  Ruth heard something unbelievable the following day. She got a letter from Mrs Jenkins, Paul’s mother. She had no idea how the woman even knew where she lived now.

  ‘Dear Ruth,

  Hope you’re well. Don’t know if you’re interested but I think Paul may still be alive. I got a message from someone who knows him and they said he’s on his way back.

  Yours sincerely, Mrs Jenkins.’

  She sat down heavily and re-read the letter. Tears fell from her eyes and she laughed at the same time.

  ‘Whatever is it, love?’ asked Mabel, puzzled by the girl’s reaction.

  ‘It’s Paul. They say he’s alive. I can hardly believe it. He’s on his way home.’

  ‘Oh, Ruth. How wonderful. Do they say what happened to him?’

  ‘No, nothing. Just that he’s on his way back. Oh, Mum. That is really wonderful, isn’t it? I thought he was dead and lying somewhere in a field.’

  ‘If it’s true it is. But don’t get your hopes up too much. If he’s been in a prison camp… well, we’ve all heard about them. He might be a very different man to the one you knew.’

  ‘Not my Paul. I know he’ll be all right. I wonder when he’ll get back? Perhaps he’s back already. I must go over to see his mum. What time is it? I wonder when the next bus is.’

  ‘Now then, Ruth. You’ll have to wait a while. If he is back, he might well need a bit of time to get used to it.’

  ‘But he’ll want to see me. I know he will.’

  ‘Why not wait till tomorrow? One more day won’t make any odds.’

  ‘Yes, but he’ll be wondering if I’ve waited for him. Oh, I know all about Charlie but that was never my fault and never what I wanted. Oh, Paul. Do you really think he’ll be different?’

  ‘I don’t know. I expect so. Wait to see what happened to him and then go over there. Be sensible about it, please.’

  ‘I hope you’re right. I don’t want him to think I don’t care. Should I write to his mum?’

  ‘That’s a good idea. You could ask if he’s home yet and if it’s all right for you to go and see him.’

  ‘Right, I will. Oh, I can’t believe it. After so many years of thinking he’d… well… he’d been killed.’ She went up to her room and wrote a reply to Mrs Jenkins. It was a much longer reply than the original letter had been, filled with instructions to tell Paul this and that. She kept reading Mrs Jenkins’s letter, still hardly able to believe it.

  ‘I’m going to post it right away. I want it to get there quickly so he knows I’m still here waiting for him. I really wish I had something nice to wear when we meet. Do you think he’ll want to come here or shall I go there?’

  ‘You’ll have to see, love.’ Mabel was getting weary of the subject and seemed to
keep repeating the same message. But she was pleased for Ruth; she knew she had never wavered in her love for the young man. Ruth came back from posting her letter, full of the joys of spring.

  Dan arrived home and was told the whole story over again.

  ‘What do you think, Dad?’ she demanded.

  ‘Do what your mother says. Give him time to get home and settle.’

  ‘But suppose he doesn’t realise I’m here? Still waiting for him?’

  ‘What about that young man you’ve been seeing? Nigel, isn’t he called?’

  ‘He doesn’t mean anything much to me. I don’t think I mean anything to him either. We’ve just been keeping each other company.’

  ‘Well, just make sure, that’s all I’m saying.’

  To say she couldn’t sleep much that night was an understatement. She tossed and turned and could scarcely stop thinking about seeing her beloved Paul again. Of course she had listened to what her parents had said but she could hardly wait. It was Friday the next day and she planned to go straight through to Longton on the train. She would then walk to Mrs Jenkins’s house and see for herself exactly what was happening. When it was time to get up the following morning, she felt as if she’d barely slept at all. She dressed carefully, wearing her best blouse and skirt, and told her mum that she wouldn’t be home till late that evening.

  ‘Why, what are you planning?’ Mabel asked.

  ‘I really can’t wait any longer. I’m going over to see Mrs Jenkins and see what’s happening. If Paul isn’t there yet, it doesn’t matter. I need to make sure she knows I’m waiting for him.’

  ‘Oh, well, if you insist. Just don’t get your hopes up too much, will you? I mean to say, you haven’t got definite proof he is really coming back. If he’s been in a prison camp, well they say the men just aren’t the same as when they went in. It’s been a very long time he’s been away.’

  ‘I know, Mum. Course I know all that. But you do understand what I’m feeling, don’t you?’

  ‘Course I do, love. Best of luck. I know you’ll be sensible.’

  It seemed an incredibly long day at work. She told Vera about the letter and also her plans. Vera wished her friend good luck and told her not to hold out too much hope. Ruth spent the day watching the clock, which seemed to have something wrong with it, the speed it was going. Four o’clock, quarter past, half past. It took simply ages to reach five o’clock. When it did, she was ready to run out of the office and leap onto the train. She was just going out of the door when Nigel ran into her in the corridor.

  ‘Oh, Ruth, do you have a minute?’ he asked.

  ‘Not really. What is it?’

  ‘I wondered if you’re doing anything tomorrow evening? Would you like to go out somewhere?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I think I may be busy. Sorry, that sounds awful. I’m going out tonight and it may take me over tomorrow too. Thanks anyway, for asking I mean.’

  ‘No problem. Hope you enjoy this evening.’

  He sounded rather down, she thought, but she really couldn’t help it. She ran to the train and, not even waiting for her father, sat herself down, feeling almost desperately nervous. Suppose Paul was already at home? Suppose he didn’t want to see her? Suppose he… suppose he had even got married? She had no idea where he’d been for past few years and he might have changed in his feelings about her. Perhaps he’d been in a prison camp? If that was the case, he’d be a very different sort of person from the one who left her so long ago.

  The train chugged on, passing through Stone and various other places until it finally reached Longton. She got off and wondered if she should find a bus or walk to Paul’s house. She decided on the latter and walked almost two miles, passing her mother’s old house and the ruins of Charlie’s place. When she finally reached Paul’s house, her nerve gave way and she leaned against the wall outside, her heart positively racing. She saw someone walking down the street, pulled herself together and knocked at the door. Mrs Jenkins answered it.

  ‘Oh, hello. I’ve got your letter this morning. I haven’t heard any more. You’d best come in.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m sorry to bother you but I felt I must come and talk to you. To see if you’d heard anything more.’

  ‘I can show you the letter that came a couple of days since. It really don’t tell me owt more than I told you. Do you want a cuppa?’

  ‘That would be great, thank you. I’ve come straight from work.’

  ‘You won’t have owt to eat then.’

  ‘I had my dinner in the canteen at work. I’ll be all right.’

  ‘I’ve got some bread and a bit of marg. I can give you some of that. Now, where did I put that letter?’ She fumbled about and found it, handing it over the Ruth. With slightly trembling fingers, Ruth drew it out of the envelope.

  Dear Mrs Jenkins,

  We are pleased to inform you that your son, Paul Jenkins, is on his way home to you. He should arrive with you in the next few days. Yours sincerely… It was signed with a signature that neither of them could read.

  ‘So, he’s definitely on his way home,’ muttered Ruth. ‘He could arrive at any time. I wonder where he’s been?’

  ‘God knows. I think he may have been in one of their prison camps. He’ll come back looking like a skeleton. I really don’t know what sort of state he’ll be in.’

  ‘I can’t wait to see him. Perhaps he’s been living somewhere in hiding. I even thought he might… well he might even have got married. But that’s just me thinking the worst.’

  ‘Goodness me. I never thought of that one.’

  ‘It’s my overactive imagination. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I hope as he’s kept himself for you. You were always his favourite.’

  ‘That was then. It’s bin a long time. He might have changed, as I said.’

  ‘I’ll go and make that tea before your mouth dries out.’ She went into the kitchen, which was a copy of Ruth’s parents’ old house, and Ruth heard the kettle go on and the clatter of china. It felt hot inside the house and she longed to get outside. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting but it all now felt like an anticlimax. Mrs Jenkins returned with two mugs of tea. ‘Hope you don’t mind a mug but it saves me going back for refills. I must say, it’s lovely that you’ve come to see me.’ Ruth smiled, not wanting to say she had really come to see what the latest news of Paul could be. ‘I suppose that’s silly of me. You’ve really come to find out about Paul, haven’t you?’

  ‘Well, I suppose so. But it’s nice to see you, too.’

  ‘It’s been a lonely time lately. You know his dad passed on? A couple of years back.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’

  ‘He passed on after an accident at work. Never really got over it. I’ve been struggling a bit ever since. Can’t get a job or anything. Not at my age with no skills. I did a bit of cleaning but nobody can afford to pay a cleaner these days. Still, now it’s pretty well over, perhaps folks will look for employees again.’

  ‘I certainly hope so. I suppose I’ll be looking for another job soon. They’re not going to keep the ROF place open indefinitely, are they?’

  ‘Oh, you’ll be all right. You’ve got skills. My Paul always did say you had talents and could type. P’raps you could get your old job back?’ Ruth shuddered. She certainly would never go to work for Mr Steele again, even if he asked her to on bended knee.

  ‘I’m sure I shall find something. I’ll stay where I am till they tell me anything different.’

  They chatted on inconsequentially for another hour or so and then Ruth decided it was time she went home. Mrs Jenkins promised she’d let her know as soon as there was any news and, impulsively, Ruth kissed her as she left. The woman looked slightly shocked but touched her cheek afterwards, as if she would remember the gesture.

  ‘Bye, love. I hope there’s some good news soon.’

  Ruth nodded and walked off down the street. She walked into Longton and w
aited for the bus. Each person she saw, she stared at, in case it might be Paul. At last her bus arrived and she got on, feeling somewhat deflated. She realised how much she had wanted to see Paul at home and find out exactly where she was in his life. She gazed out of the window as if expecting to see the man she loved and had loved for so long. It made a change to be driving along in daylight now that summer was here. She wondered if they would be able to walk in the park or perhaps even take a boat out on the lake. She sighed deeply, remembering those far-off days. Would they ever be quite the same again?

  Chapter Ten

  It was Tuesday before Ruth heard anything more. When she got home from work, there was another letter from Mrs Jenkins. She tore open the envelope quickly and scanned the words. It was short and said that Paul would be home on Wednesday and if she would like to come over on Wednesday evening, she would be able to see him. She sat down and burst into tears.

  ‘What is it, love?’ asked Mabel, disturbed by her reaction.

  ‘It’s Paul. He’s coming home tomorrow. I can’t really believe it. My Paul is coming home again.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, love. Amazing, really, when you think of all the upsets there have been over Europe.’

  ‘This time tomorrow I might be seeing him for real. It’s like my wildest dreams are coming true. Here, read what Mrs Jenkins has said.’ She handed the letter over and Mabel read it quickly.

  ‘I should make summat for you to take with you. How about some scones? I think I’ve just about got enough stuff in to make a small batch.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum. I’m sure they’d go down well. Think I told you she’s really struggling to manage. I could do them if you like.’

  ‘We’ll do them together. I wonder if she makes jam? I know there isn’t any dried fruit to put in them. I’ll put some of my homemade bramble jelly in a small jar and you can take that with you, too.’

  ‘Sounds like a proper feast.’ They set to work and soon had five scones ready to put in the oven.

  ‘Might as well cook the rest of supper in the oven. I know they don’t take long but if the oven’s on anyway. It isn’t much. Finding meat in the shops is just as difficult as it was before the war ended.’