by Rosie Clarke
‘What will that poor lass do?’ Fred was echoing what was in Beth’s thoughts. ‘She’s lost enough in her life – first her father and then her mother and that other chap let her down.’
Beth nodded. ‘Maggie had thought she loved Ralf, but she told me the last time she was home that she’d never loved him the way she does Tim. He is very important to her – just as he is to all of us.’ Beth swiped at the tears that had started to trickle down her cheeks. ‘Oh, Dad, what are we going to do? We can’t write to Maggie and tell her Tim is lost – not until we’re certain it is hopeless.’
‘No, we mustn’t do that,’ Fred agreed and she saw the tears standing in his eyes, tears he was holding back in his concern for her and Maggie. ‘The poor lass is doing her bit for our men out there and suffering terrible hardship. It will kill her to know Tim’s missing – so we’ll keep it to ourselves until we’re certain. The telegram says he’s missing. We’ll wait until we have confirmation of…’ His voice broke and he couldn’t continue as his head bowed and he covered his face with his hands, shoulders shaking with grief.
Beth hovered for a moment, unsure of how to comfort him, but then she put her arms around him, holding him as he wept out his pain.
‘He’s my little lad, my baby…’ Fred mumbled into her shoulder. ‘It’s not right, Beth – I should be the one to die first, not my son…’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Beth murmured and stroked his arm. ‘It’s this awful war, Dad.’ She bent and kissed his hair, which was thinning at the temples. ‘Don’t give up hope yet. It is still possible he might have been picked up…’ It was a forlorn hope, she knew – a man alone in that vast sea, at the mercy of the bitter cold and strong currents. Tim would have needed to be picked up fairly quickly to have a chance of survival and the likelihood was that he would have died in the wreckage of his plane.
Fred eased himself back from her, forcing a tight smile. ‘I’m sorry, Beth. I shouldn’t have given way like that – it’s my duty to be strong for us all.’
‘No one can be strong all the time,’ she said and smiled at him lovingly. ‘You love him – we all love Tim. No one could help it. I’m going to go on hoping and praying for him, Dad. I shan’t give up until they tell us for sure.’
Fred nodded his head and wiped his face on his shirtsleeve. ‘Jack will be home again in a few days. He’ll know more – have more idea how we can find out what Tim’s chances are…’
‘I’ll ask Sally Harper to help us,’ Beth said, making up her mind. ‘Ben and Sally know a lot of important people – and they will help us get more details of what happened.’
‘Yes, you do that,’ Fred replied. ‘Why don’t you go and see them this evening – and I’ll go and visit some of my friends down the pub?’
Beth hesitated, but she sensed that he was trying to put a brave face on and carry on as normal, and perhaps that was the best thing to do, because sitting around the house crying wouldn’t do anyone any good.
Sally was just ironing some of Jenny’s things when the doorbell rang. She went to answer it and her smile of pleasure when she saw Beth turned to concern as she realised her friend had been crying. Her eyes were puffy and she looked so upset that Sally’s heart caught with fear.
‘Is it Jack?’
Beth shook her head, gulping back the tears as she said, ‘Tim’s plane went down over the sea three days ago. Nothing has been heard since…’
‘Oh, Beth – poor Fred and Maggie!’ Sally felt upset as she understood what Beth and their friend would be going through. ‘Maggie doesn’t know, though, does she?’
Beth shook her head. ‘They aren’t married so the telegram came to Fred.’ Beth hesitated, then, ‘We’ve decided not to write and tell her – at least until we know for sure.’
‘I’m not sure you should then,’ Sally said. ‘She has been out there nearly two months, which means she still has more than four months before she gets leave. It’s an awful way to tell her – in a letter. We really need to tell her face to face.’
‘Yes, of course that would be better,’ Beth agreed, ‘but how can we? We can’t go out there to tell her…’ She saw the thoughtful look in Sally’s eyes. ‘You wouldn’t even think of it?’
‘I’m not sure if it could be arranged,’ Sally said slowly. ‘I don’t see why not, though. I mean, Ben was telling me about a woman who arranged a private ambulance and went out to the field hospital to fetch her badly wounded husband home. She knew his commanding officer and he’d told her Captain Luke Jefferies was lying there close to death and that medicines were short, so she hired the ambulance, took a load of medicine with her and a private nurse and doctor and went out to fetch him. If she could do that – someone could visit Maggie and tell her…’ She shook her head. ‘No, I don’t mean me.’
‘I should hope not!’ Beth cried. ‘Ben would never let you, it would be far too dangerous. You could be shot at or killed – and it would be so difficult to get a pass to get there.’
‘I don’t see why someone couldn’t do it,’ Sally replied, and Beth could see her mind working, piecing together the things she’d need to do to achieve her aim. ‘I’ll ask Ben if he knows anyone heading out there.’
‘Yes, he might be able to arrange it,’ Beth said. ‘Once, we know for sure…’
‘No, we shan’t do it until we’re sure that Tim is lost. He might be on a ship, Beth, perhaps a foreign vessel that hasn’t let anyone know yet…’
‘Yes.’ Beth sniffed and wiped her eyes. ‘That’s what I tried to tell Fred, but he’s convinced Tim is gone, says he feels it inside.’
‘He may be right,’ Sally said sombrely. ‘We can only pray, Beth.’
‘I wondered if you could find out a bit more for us,’ Beth said. ‘The telegram from the War Office is so basic – and it would be better to know the details…’
‘Ben knows a lot of people,’ Sally confirmed. ‘I’ll talk to him when he comes back from his meeting and ask him to find out what he can for you.’
‘Yes, I hoped you would,’ Beth said and blew her nose hard. ‘I didn’t know what to say to comfort Fred – what can I tell him?’
‘Nothing, just be there when he needs you,’ Sally replied. ‘Words don’t help much, but a loving hug and a cup of tea is a comfort – which makes me think it’s time I put the kettle on. Would you rather have coffee, tea or cocoa?’
‘I think a hot cocoa would be just the ticket,’ Beth answered, smiling now. ‘You’re right, Sally. We shall all be devastated if Tim is gone forever, but we have to comfort each other…’
Sally hugged her around the waist and smiled. ‘You’ve always got me,’ she said, ‘and we’ll be there for Maggie – we’re all she’s got, Beth, and I think she will need us more this time than ever before.’
14
Jack was below in the engine room when the order came down to slow engines. He looked at his second mate and frowned because they were nearing the shores of France. They’d made good time from Gibraltar and were carrying goods for home consumption as well as supplies for the troops, which they intended to drop off at Calais. It meant going in close to the French coastline and they often had to run the gauntlet of German fire, both from their frigates and the little fighter planes that buzzed them from the air, firing at anything that moved and dropping incendiary devices. Their weapons were more of a nuisance than a hazard; it was the surface fire or even worse the U-boats that sneaked up undetected and took a ship out from below.
‘What do you reckon is going on up there?’ Jack asked. They were not close enough into port yet for them to be stopping to unload cargo – so what could they be slowing down for?
‘No idea,’ his mate said. ‘Why don’t you fetch us a mug of tea and take a look?’
‘You can manage here for the moment?’ Jack asked. It wasn’t truly his job to look after engines, but Jock, the first engineer, had gone down with a bug of some kind on the way back from Spain and the Bosun had asked for volunteers to help Malcolm unti
l the first engineer was on his feet again. Jack had worked in all parts of the ship since joining the Merchant Navy and he quickly offered his services. He’d been a steward on board the luxury liners he’d worked in before he took over a hotel, but there wasn’t much call for that kind of work on board a working ship, so Jack went wherever he was called and was happy enough scrubbing decks or cleaning engine parts or simply doing lookout duties.
It wasn’t unusual for his shipmates to ask him to make a brew. It was well known that Jack knew his way round the galley and he gave the cook a hand sometimes, helping to feed and serve the men. ‘Jack of all trades, that’s me,’ he often said and grinned at the men he felt were friends. On board ship you became close to people and they were either your friends or your enemies. Fortunately, the Maid of Portsmouth was a friendly ship and Jack hadn’t made any enemies. Everyone got on well and took a share of the work, no matter what it entailed. Jack was popular on board and he often made a bacon sandwich and a brew to take up to the night watch if he had nothing better to do. For Jack, making tea and feeding someone who was cold and hungry was better than sitting staring up at the bunk above him and wondering what Beth was doing at home.
Some of the men drove themselves half mad wondering if their wives were seeing other men while they were away. Jack never considered it. He knew his Beth and was well aware that her only concern was that she worried for him.
He smiled as he made his way to the galley and asked Cookie if there was any tea going. The huge pot was filled with hot strong tea and he was told to help himself. He filled the mugs and put in milk and sugar, stirring it well.
Glancing out of the window, he saw that men were hanging over the rails.
‘What do you reckon is goin’ on, Cookie?’
Bob Saunders, known as Cookie to his shipmates, pulled a face. ‘The lookout spotted some wreckage from a plane in the water. He thought there was a body still caught on a bit of it and they were going to try and haul it in.’
Jack nodded; his face grim. It happened often enough in these waters. The pilots in those flimsy planes went down regularly and ships seeing wreckage always tried to take on board anything that could identify the plane and, in rare cases, pluck someone alive from the sea.
‘Not much chance he’ll be alive after last night’s storm,’ Jack said and frowned. He had an icy feeling at his nape and something made him take the tea on deck instead of heading back to Malcolm in the engine room.
As he moved nearer to the men who were hauling something on board, Jack’s inner feeling of foreboding increased. He knew it was a chance in a million, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the man being pulled from the wreckage of his plane was his brother, Tim. No, that was daft, it couldn’t be and yet he had this tingling at his nape.
‘That tea for me?’ one of the midshipmen said and took a mug from him. Jack hardly noticed as someone else took the other mug.
‘Poor bugger never stood a chance…’ one of the others said. ‘At least we can give him a decent burial.’
‘Has he got any papers on him?’ another asked.
Jack walked as if in a dream to where someone had laid the body of the young man on the deck and covered it with a blanket. The body had its jacket on still, but most of its clothing had been pulled off by the sea; it happened to bodies that were in the sea for some hours, if they managed to be kept afloat by being tangled in the wreckage.
His heart racing, Jack knelt down on the deck and pulled back the blanket someone had put over the dead man for decency. The shock of seeing what he’d feared was so great that he gasped and started shaking. It couldn’t be! No, it was impossible – not his little brother. He’d known Tim could be shot down, of course, but he was a lucky little blighter and Jack had always thought he bore a charmed life, but even with the changes death and the sea had made, Jack knew his brother.
The tears were running down his cheeks as one of his mates put a blanket around his shoulders and gently eased him to his feet.
‘What’s wrong wiv Jack then? It ain’t the first time we’ve fished a dead ’un from the sea.’
‘His brother’s in the Royal Flying Corps – I reckon it must be him,’ another voice said.
‘His name is Tim.’ Jack found his voice at last. ‘Thank you for pulling him out, Pete. My father will be grateful to have him back…’ He choked back his emotion, his fists balling at his sides.
‘Bloody hell, mate!’ another of his friends said. ‘I’m sorry – it’s a rotten chance that we pulled him out like that.’
‘No – it’s better than leaving him to the sharks,’ Jack said and shuddered. He looked at their Captain, who was watching silently. ‘You’ll let me look after him, sir? Take him home to my father?’
‘Yes, Burrows,’ Captain Marlowe said. ‘As you know, we would normally bury him at sea after taking what identifying marks we could, but your brother’s body will be placed in the hold and, when we reach port, arrangements will be made for you to take him to a local undertaker so that his body can be made decent for your father to see him.’
‘Thank you,’ Jack said and bent to pick up Tim’s body, but two of his friends got there first.
‘We’ll see he’s all right,’ Pete said. ‘Best you don’t see too much, Jack. Wait until the undertaker has had a go to make him decent.’
Jack knew that often the bodies fished from the sea had been attacked by sharks and their flesh torn to the bone. His friend was trying to spare him.
Captain Marlowe ordered Jack back to the engine room. ‘We’re nearing the port. Look sharp, Burrows, you’re needed below. We’ve taken enough risk as it is. Keep a sharp lookout the rest of you, we don’t want to get caught by a U-boat or we’ll be the ones in the water.’
Jack saluted and did as he was told. He felt numbed with grief and shock and was glad to have a job to do.
As he climbed down below, Jock looked up in expectation. ‘Where’s me bloody tea then?’
‘Sorry, Malc. I was ordered back below,’ Jack said and went to his station as the orders began to come through. ‘I’ll get you one later.’
He worked mechanically, blocking out the thoughts and the emotion. Grief would come later when he had to go home and tell his father and Beth – and then there was Maggie. Poor little devil, it would break her heart and Jack wondered how they were ever going to tell her.
15
Marion listened sadly to the news that Tim Burrows was now officially dead a few days later. She didn’t know him personally, of course, but he was engaged to Maggie and so it made her want to cry. Mrs Burrows had brought the news and looked so red-eyed and pale that both Mrs Bailey and Sally Harper told her she should go home, but she said Fred had come into work and she would too.
‘Jack is seeing to everything,’ Mrs Burrows explained, her face pale but determined. ‘He has been so strong ever since he got home and he did everything right from the start, organised the funeral, Fred just left it all to him, because it was too much.’
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Burrows,’ Marion said and her throat caught with distress. She hated to see her supervisor in such pain and wished she could do something to help, but she knew from experience that grief was personal and you couldn’t share another person’s pain, even when they were members of your own family. Kathy had taken their mother’s death inwardly and still couldn’t talk about it. ‘It was a terrible thing to happen – and for your husband to be there when…’ She couldn’t go on because her supervisor looked as if she might faint from grief. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…’
‘Jack says it is a good thing it happened that way,’ Mrs Burrows said, raising her head as the tears fought to escape. ‘He thinks that God intended us to know the truth – and at least we know for sure. Most men lost at sea are just that. We have Tim back and Fred will have a grave he can lay flowers on. We have to be grateful to Captain Marlowe for that, because the general rule is that bodies found at sea are given a Christian burial at sea. Because it was Ja
ck’s brother, he allowed him to bring him home to us…’
Marion nodded. She didn’t know quite what to say. Becky Stockbridge had dissolved into tears and run off to the stockroom to recover herself. All she could say was poor Maggie, poor Maggie, over and over again and Mrs Burrows had glared at her.
‘None of you is to write to Maggie Gibbs about this,’ she said now. ‘Mrs Harper is trying to find someone who will take the news to her in person. We don’t want her to hear it in a letter – do you understand? It would be too distressing to learn about Tim that way.’
Becky Stockbridge had returned to the floor after her tearful exit and looked at her in distress. Clearly, she felt she wanted to tell her friend, to tell her how sorry she was, but Mrs Burrows was adamant.
‘I know you care for Maggie,’ she said, and her voice was strong. She was in command of her emotions now. ‘But Mrs Harper and I are the closest to family that Maggie has and we want the news broken gently. When she has been told then you can write – do you understand?’
‘Yes, Mrs Burrows,’ Marion said, but heard the murmur of protest from Becky. She felt a lump in her throat and wished she didn’t have to work, but they couldn’t all go home – and if Mrs Burrows and Fred Burrows could come into work then she could hardly complain.
‘To your places now, girls,’ her supervisor said as she saw a customer enter the department. She went to her own counter and began to rearrange the jewellery.
Marion was the first one to be busy. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or sorry, but she was soon drawn into the customer’s discussion about the merits of a red straw and a cream and pink silk tulle hat. She pushed her sadness to the back of her mind. Life had to go on despite what had happened – but it was the first of Harpers’ people to be killed, as far as she knew – Tim Burrows wasn’t strictly one of Harpers’ staff, of course, but he was Fred’s son and everyone liked Fred Burrows.
