by Anne Bennett
Just before dawn she fell asleep only to be woken by the alarm call she’d requested. She stumbled about the room, had a wash and was hungry enough, after her small dinner of the previous evening, to eat a sizeable breakfast.
Then, at last, it was time to call a taxi to the docks. She was glad she’d kept her own ticket. She had asked Jenny if she wanted to hold on to them both, but Jenny had said you never knew what might happen, and they each should keep their own. Linda felt excitement grip her as the taxi driver drove her along; she saw the gulls wheeling and screeching overhead and knew the docks were near at hand.
She’d never seen a liner before, except in a book, and as the taxi turned into the quayside, the enormous size of it took her breath away. Deck upon deck rose before her, all of them thronged with people, and funnels spouted grey smoke into the dank air. She felt a sense of awe to be going aboard such a wonderful ship. ‘All right, miss?’ the taxi driver asked as she sat entranced in the cab and made no move to get out.
‘Oh yes. Yes, I’m sorry,’ she said, fumbling with the door handle.
The man smiled at her eagerness and he left his side of the cab and opened the door for her. ‘Is it America you’re bound for?’
‘Yes. New York.’
‘On your own?’ he said, and frowned a little for he would not be happy to think of such a young girl going all that way on her own.
‘No, my friend is going with me,’ Linda said, watching the taxi driver deposit her luggage on the cobblestones on the quayside. ‘She’s my guardian really, I suppose. I lived with her after I was bombed out and my family killed.’
‘Ah well, plenty had that happen to them,’ the taxi driver said sympathetically. He felt a sense of protectiveness towards the girl and he looked about the busy bustling quay. ‘Where are you meeting?’
‘On the ship.’
‘That’s best,’ said the driver. The place was teeming with people. ‘She’s probably already aboard. You stay here now, and don’t move. I’ll get you someone to help with your luggage. You’ll never manage it by yourself.’
He was away before Linda could express her thanks and she was grateful for his kindness, for she’d not realized the amount of luggage she’d accumulated, for though she’d only taken one case to her auntie’s, the rest had been sent on to the hotel.
The taxi driver was soon back, with a toll broad-shouldered man, who wore a uniform of sorts, so Linda knew he was part of the crew on board the ship. He picked up the cases as if they weighed nothing and was off, leaving Linda to pay the kind taxi driver and pick up her hand luggage and scurry after him. And scurry she did, desperate not to lose sight of the man who seemed to stride away from her so effortlessly.
He hardly seemed to notice the crowds of people and thrust his way through them with Linda striving to follow, muttering apologies that she knew would probably not be heard, for the noise was almost deafening. When she eventually reached the gangplank, she noticed the thick grey ropes coiled around the bollards on the quayside that were anchoring the ship. The ropes looked coarse and greasy and were as thick as a man’s forearm.
But Linda had no time to stare. Already, the man with her luggage had reached the deck and the gangplank was before her. It had wooden ridges at intervals along its length and the sides were not solid wood, but in a criss-cross design, and she gave a deep sigh of contentment as she breathed in the salty tangy air and stepped on board.
The steward, or whoever he was, pointed her to a man who crossed her name off the passenger list and then led her to the little cabin Jenny had booked for them both. She’d wanted to ask if Jenny was aboard yet and whether her name had been deleted, but there was no time in the rush and noise of the place. However, when she got to the cabin there was no sight of Jenny or any of her belongings. There were four bunk beds in the room with a locker, set of drawers and a tall cupboard beside each set of beds. The other two women in the room had finished putting their belongings away and were chatting to one another.
‘Thank you,’ Linda said to the man who dumped her cases on the lower bunk bed. She wondered if she should tip him, but he didn’t seem to expect it. ‘My pleasure,’ he said, the first words she’d heard him speak, then he touched his hat and was gone.
Linda nodded to the two women she’d be sharing her cabin with for the next five or six days, but felt shy speaking to them and instead, began to empty her cases, leaving plenty of space for Jenny’s things. She turned to look out of the porthole. The sea was grey and choppy and she hoped the crossing wouldn’t be too rough. Already her stomach was churning, but she didn’t know whether it was from excitement or fear. She glanced at her watch and wished Jenny was here.
‘We set off too late,’ Jenny said crossly to Peter. ‘We shouldn’t have left it to the last minute.’
‘Relax,’ Peter told her. ‘We’ll get there, don’t worry. It was that accident forcing us to take a detour that held us up. God, we couldn’t have set off any earlier – it was nearly the middle of the night as it was.’
Jenny knew that was true, but she was too jumpy to be reasonable. They’d been on the road since half-past five that morning. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Max sitting in the back seat of Peter’s car, and though he sat perfectly still, Jenny could almost feel the tension flowing through him. She wished she knew if she was doing the right thing; it had seemed such a good idea when Peter explained it all to her in his mother’s front room two days before.
In an effort to change the subject and to stop herself looking at her watch for the hundredth time, she said, ‘Are you sure your mother is all right about me moving in?’
‘She’s delighted,’ Peter said with a smile. ‘In fact, when I told her, she said it was about time.’
Jenny sincerely hoped that her move and the news of their impending marriage might take the heat off Linda, for she knew the family would never understand – God, she hadn’t understood herself and if she was honest, still didn’t. ‘They’ll crucify her,’ she’d cried at Peter. ‘You don’t know.’
‘Of course they won’t.’
‘They will,’ she said firmly. ‘They hate Germans.’
‘Jenny, the war is over,’ Peter had replied. ‘We can’t keep harking back. In time the war will be a distant memory. Never totally forgotten, because of the thousands who gave their lives to give us all freedom. But most of those who died would, I’m sure, hate us to wallow in bitterness against a whole nation for the decisions of its government.’ He’d crossed the room as he spoke and held Jenny tight at that point and went on, ‘Wait till we tell them they have a wedding to prepare for and at double-quick speed too. They’ll have no time then to worry over Linda.’
‘I’ll still worry,’ Jenny had said resignedly. ‘It’s a habit I’ve got into. Anyway,’ she added, ‘what exactly do you mean by a double-quick wedding?’
‘I mean one that takes place as quickly as it can be reasonably arranged,’ Peter had said. ‘I’ve waited more years than I care to remember for you. I refuse to wait one day more than is necessary.’ He loved Jenny dearly and always had. He wished she’d not destroyed the letters Max had sent to Linda because then they might have some measure of the young girl’s feelings for him. If she was sure Linda would be happy, she would not fret so much.
Jenny also wished she could have the time back again and deal with it differently. Linda had never confided in her about her love for the young German at the Phelps’s farm, and she thought she knew why. It was because she was afraid of upsetting her. Jenny had often said how she felt about the German people and she knew Linda wouldn’t knowingly do anything to hurt her. Linda knew just how much she owed Jenny and she carried a heavy weight of guilt around because of it. God, she had even been willing to marry someone she didn’t love to provide her and Jenny with a home together! A girl like that would kiss her German goodbye, not because she didn’t love him, but because to admit to her love would give Jenny pain. She shifted uncomfortably in the car seat. She wish
ed they were there at the quayside already. She wanted to have some time with Linda before the boat sailed, and hold her in her arms and see for herself how she was with Max. Then she would know, whatever Linda said. She would know.
They reached the docks in record time considering the tortuous journey and delays and diversions they’d endured, but Jenny didn’t breathe easily until, after leaving the car in a back street, they hurried to the quayside and Jenny saw the liner still in port. ‘Now, you know what you must do?’ she said to Max. ‘Keep out of the way at first. Give me time to talk to her.’
Max nodded reluctantly. He didn’t totally trust Jenny, she’d tried to part him from Linda once before, but he knew the doctor was straight, he was sure of that. He made his way through the crowds on the quayside and up the gangplank after Jenny and Peter, and then mingled with the crowds on the lower deck while Jenny went in search of Linda.
Linda had left the cabin and gone out on deck where the wind took her rather by surprise. She was glad she’d kept her coat on, but it whipped her scarf about her face and threatened to lift the woolly hat off her head altogether. She held on to the rail as the wind buffeted from side to side.
Around her she could see clusters of people clutching one another. Some were in tears and from the snatches of conversations she overheard, Linda knew many of those on board were the wives of American GIs travelling to a new life and a new land and bidding a tearful farewell to their loved ones. She felt lonely suddenly and wished Jenny would appear.
And then, as if her mind had conjured her up, she saw her there across the deck. Peter was by her side and she ran towards her, her arms opened wide. And though they didn’t hug each other on a regular basis, Linda went into Jenny’s arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She met Peter’s eyes over Jenny’s head and was surprised to see a twinkle in them and even more surprised when he gave her a broad wink. She presumed he’d brought Jenny to the ship because whatever had delayed her the previous day had meant there hadn’t been a train suitable for this hour in the morning and Peter, as usual, had obliged. But she hardly expected him to be happy about it. Even if he’d accepted the fact that Jenny thought of him as a friend and nothing else, she hardly thought he’d be smiling about it and winking at her as if they shared some secret, when in just a few minutes more Jenny would be sailing to another continent entirely.
Linda drew out of Jenny’s embrace and saw her eyes wet with tears. ‘What is it?’ she cried and then looked around and demanded, ‘Where is your luggage? Have you taken it straight to the cabin?’
Jenny shook her head, too full of emotion to speak and pressed a small tissue-wrapped bundle into Linda’s hand. The younger girl knew what it was, for she’d wrapped the two halves of the mizpah in the crinkly paper herself. She unwrapped it carefully and saw just one half lying in her palm.
‘I found them in your drawer,’ Jenny said brokenly. ‘I was packing your things to send to the Metropole.’ She pulled the scarf away from her neck as she spoke and unbuttoned her coat, and Linda saw the other part of the mizpah resting in the hollow of Jenny’s neck. ‘I mended the chain,’ she said.
Linda didn’t answer. She didn’t need the other half to know what the inscription said. The Lord watch between me and thee while we are absent from one another.
Suddenly, she knew what Jenny had come to tell her. She took a step back. ‘You’re not coming with me, are you?’ she said, filled with fear and distress. ‘That’s why you’ve given me this. Oh Jenny, how could you do this to me’
The tears coursed down Jenny’s cheeks and she was unable to speak, but Peter intervened, ‘Linda, there is someone I want you to meet.’
And then Max stepped out from the crush of people on deck he had hidden behind and Linda’s mouth dropped open with surprise. ‘Max?’ Her lips formed the word, but no sound came out and Max strode across the deck and took Linda in his arms as if they’d never been apart. Her mind bounced with questions and slight annoyance too, that the man who had disappeared from her life nine months before and not communicated one word since, held her in his arms as if he had a right. And there was Jenny, watching it all as if she thought it was OK. What the hell did it all mean, she thought bemusedly.
But when she looked into Max’s deep brown eyes, it was as if nothing else mattered. No one else even existed. She felt the familiar tremble in her legs and her whole body seemed loose and fluid, as if all the parts were unconnected. She did nothing to stop Max’s lips descending on hers and her longing for him was so great, she barely suppressed a groan of sheer desire.
Jenny watched and clutched Peter’s hand for support and knew that, German or not, he was the man for the child who had grown into a woman in her care. She was so glad she’d given him her ticket. So glad to have had a chance to make reparation. She remembered the trouble they’d had to go to to get it changed into Max’s name. And then to ensure that there was a bed for him in the men’s cabins, because he wouldn’t be allowed to share with Linda as Jenny had intended to do.
Not knowing any of this, Linda had pulled away from Max and now faced him angrily. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?’ she exploded. ‘Don’t think you can come waltzing back into my life when you haven’t bothered to get in touch with me all these months, because you can’t. I’m not that sort of girl.’
Max glanced across at Jenny and she realized it was up to her. She was scared to tell Linda what she had done, terrified that she’d see disbelief, disdain and perhaps even hatred in those large eyes. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and said, in a voice that shook: ‘Max did write, Linda, and regularly. But I … I burned his letters.’
The ‘Why?’ was on Linda’s lips, but she didn’t utter it. She knew why. When she looked at Jenny, she didn’t see a woman who’d prevented her from receiving letters from her lover, she saw a girl not much older than herself, who’d crawled back into a dangerous house and risked her life to fulfil a promise made to a terrified and badly wounded child. She saw someone who’d swallowed her own fear to help Linda cope, who’d talked to her for hours to keep her conscious and then defied the two harridans she’d lived with to offer Linda a home.
She owed her life to Jenny and nothing mattered beside that. Besides, she remembered the cryptic message Sarah Phelps had written weeks before, mentioning ‘news of Max’. Why hadn’t she contacted her and asked what she meant? Because she was pig-headed, that’s why. She put her arms around her friend’s heaving shoulders.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Jenny said through her sobs.
‘Hush, hush,’ Linda said soothingly. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
Jenny could hardly believe her ears. ‘You forgive me?’ she asked incredulously.
Linda shrugged. ‘Nothing to forgive,’ she said, and she gave Max the mizpah, taking the scarf from her neck as she did so. ‘Will you put it on?’ she asked.
Max did what she asked as the call came for those not travelling to disembark, and Jenny said to Linda, ‘Louis Bradshaw and his parents are meeting you at the other end – it’s all arranged.’
Linda knew that Jenny was saying that if it didn’t work out with Max, if at the end of the trip she decided she hated the sight of him, she would still have friends in New York. She felt warmed by her concern, but felt it to be unnecessary, for she knew her future lay with the tall handsome German, although she was determined also to appear at the audition Louis had arranged for her. She gazed at Jenny and said, ‘It’s all right,’ and Jenny pressed Linda’s hands, knowing she understood.
But there were other things Linda did not understand. She looked from Peter to Jenny. For years she’d been aware of Peter’s devotion and before she sailed away, she had to be sure she wasn’t leaving Jenny alone and bereft. ‘Are you and Peter … I mean, did you … Oh God, have you …?’
Peter smiled and put Linda out of her misery. ‘Jenny and I have discovered we love each other,’ he said.
That was no news to Linda from Peter�
�s point of view, but she glanced at Jenny for confirmation and she smiled back at her. ‘Don’t worry about us, Linda. Peter and I are getting married.’
Linda hadn’t been aware she’d been holding her breath, but it escaped in a large sigh of sheer relief. There was no more time to discuss it, people were streaming past them disembarking from the ship and Peter said, ‘We’ll have to go, Jenny, otherwise we’ll be carried to New York with this pair.’
Linda and Max accompanied them to the gangplank and it was as Jenny and Linda embraced for the last time that the tears started in Linda’s eyes and she realized she’d miss Jenny so very, very much. She watched her walk down the gangplank with Peter holding her arm and she gave a sniff. Max turned Linda to face him and kissed the tears from her cheeks and held her close. ‘Don’t cry, my Linda,’ he said.
‘I’m not,’ Linda said untruthfully in a voice that wobbled with emotion. ‘It’s the wind making my eyes water.’
Max ignored Linda’s explanation and went on, ‘You will have no reason to cry ever again. I love you more than life itself. My life is nothing without you.’
Linda saw the love for her shining in his eyes and knew, whatever anyone thought, that Max Schulz was the man for her for the rest of her life, and she sighed contentedly as she leant against him.
On the quayside just below them, Jenny and Peter, entwined together, watched the gangplank being raised and the hawser ropes unwound. Jenny turned to Peter and said, ‘I can’t help worrying about her, you know?’
‘I do know,’ Peter said. ‘But you’ve done all you could. You’ve spoken to the young soldier’s parents and sister and the lieutenant himself, and said they sounded genuine people.’
