by Val Rutt
Sammy’s eyes sought out Kitty’s but, as soon as her eyes met his and she saw the tenderness there, she looked away. She could feel the need to cry swelling in her chest and behind her eyes.
‘Would rabbit be something you have over where you come from, Sammy?’ Aunt Vi asked. She placed the skillet on the stove and began peeling and slicing an onion.
‘Well, sure, but we usually eat beef and pork. We have a farm, the cows are mostly dairy but we keep some for meat, and there’s always a couple of hogs being raised. We’ve not suffered from short supply like you have in Britain, ma’am.’
Sammy and Aunt Vi continued their conversation while Kitty struggled with her tea. At last Aunt Vi told them to run along. Kitty left the kitchen and headed for the front door where she paused to glance back at Sammy.
‘Wait – I’ll just fetch your logbook.’ She left him abruptly and ran up the stairs. Inside her bedroom, Kitty covered her face with her hands and pressed her fingers against her eyes. She held her breath and willed the tears not to come. She couldn’t bear it – it was too hard. They had only just started out – this was their beginning and she could not stand to be separated from Sammy now. Kitty looked in the mirror and dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes. She took a couple of deep breaths and put on some lipstick. She picked up the logbook and went down to meet him.
Sammy had gone outside and, as she came through the front door, he moved to take her in his arms. Kitty let herself be hugged and pulled her mouth into a smile.
‘Can we walk a little, please?’ she said, handing him the logbook before moving away and heading for the gate. Sammy followed her and they walked in silence. He took her hand and she moved closer and leaned her head towards his shoulder. They walked steadily on, up the hill and out of the village. They continued to walk without speaking and being quiet together made Kitty feel better. When they reached the top gate to the field Kitty stopped. ‘Shall we have a look in daylight?’
They climbed into the field and walked around the open barn. They sat down together on the hay bale. Sammy leaned in and kissed her, then sat up straight again. They looked down the slope of the hill to where some cows cropped the grass. The animals lifted their big heads and stared at them while they chewed then lowered their broad noses to the ground once more. Sammy spoke first.
‘You’re very brave.’
‘I’m trying to be.’
‘We’re gonna be okay, Kitty – we will be together.’
‘Yes.’
He kissed her again.
‘A lot of people have it worse than we do.’
‘I know.’
‘I’ll write to you every day – twice a day. Did you write your address for me?’
‘Yes, and I’ll write back – you’ll let me know where to write to, won’t you?’
‘You bet.’
Sammy put his arm around her shoulders and they sat quietly staring down the field. Crows took off from the copse and flew away out of sight.
‘So, when do you have to go?’ Kitty asked because suddenly it was impossible not to know.
‘Today . . . please don’t cry. I was gonna tell you yesterday, honest I was, but I never found the right time . . .’
Kitty turned her face to him and though her eyes were sparkling with tears, she managed to smile.
‘I won’t cry. I promise – I’m not going to waste time crying.’
Sammy tucked his hand inside his jacket.
‘I’ve got you something.’
He placed a packet in Kitty’s lap and she carefully unfolded the brown paper.
‘Oh, stockings!’
‘I don’t know if they’re the right size or anything – one of the other guys had some, so . . .’
‘They’re wonderful, really wonderful. I’ve never had stockings before.’
Kitty lifted her face to his and kissed him. Sammy didn’t kiss her back; he closed his eyes and let himself be kissed. Kitty stayed close to him and studied his face.
He opened his eyes and grinned. ‘I was storing it up for later – I’m going to remember that kiss. If I’m ever feeling down, I’ll shut my eyes and conjure up one of your kisses. And I’m going to look for the moon every night and say goodnight to you.’
‘It felt like our moon last night.’
‘It was our moon, Kitty – it’ll always be our moon. We can look at the moon and it’ll be like we are together.’
‘Yes.’
Sammy turned towards her and held her hand. ‘This is how I see it, Kitty. We’ll win this war and we’ll win it soon – the news from France is promising. I’ll think about you every second and I’ll write to you every day.’ He stopped to kiss her, then continued. ‘And, when it’s over, I’ll come back and we’ll get married. And then some day very soon we’ll be in Pennsylvania together and we’ll stay at the cabin for our honeymoon. Hell, we’ll stay at the cabin for a whole summer – what do you say, Kit? We deserve a summer at least, don’t we?’
‘Yes,’ she said, and there were tears now but she was laughing. ‘Yes, Sammy we deserve it, we absolutely deserve it!’
They stayed at the barn making plans until the sun was high in the sky and it was time for Sammy to leave.
‘I’ll walk you home.’
‘No, let’s say goodbye here. This is our special place now.’
‘Okay, but I’ll stay and watch you walk down the hill.’
Kitty agreed and, after starting out then returning to his arms twice, she left him and walked slowly down the field, looking back every few yards to wave at him and blow him a kiss. Sammy climbed a stack of bales behind their seat and waved at her.
‘See you soon,’ he yelled. ‘I love you.’
August 2006
Kitty sets out on her shopping trip. It is hot and airless in the car and she opens both windows as soon as she has started the engine. She lifts a lever beneath the steering wheel and soapy water sprays the dirty glass. The wipers leap from side to side and two glistening and transparent arcs appear in the dusty windscreen. She is soon driving past apple orchards where the fruit has ripened early and the trees droop in weary rows. She joins a slip lane, indicates and pulls on to the dual carriageway and heads for Maidstone.
June 1944
Kitty arrived home to find Dora sitting on the gate. She jumped down and ran to meet Kitty, slipping her arm through Kitty’s and leading her away from the house.
‘Oh Kitty – the most awful thing’s happened. My mother is with your Aunt Vi getting advice because she doesn’t know what to do for the best, and father is inconsolable. Mother says that your aunt is a sensible person and a good sort and that she won’t gossip. I’m not supposed to know anything about it, but I heard them talking last night. You won’t believe it when I tell you.’
Dora paused then as she noticed the packet of nylon stockings in Kitty’s hand.
‘That’s where you’ve been – walking out with your pilot!’ She looked around her in case Sammy was nearby. Dora took the stockings from Kitty and turned the packet over in her hand.
‘What’s happened, Dora? Tell me, for goodness’ sake.’
Dora passed the stockings back to Kitty and leaned forwards so that her mouth was close to Kitty’s ear.
‘It’s Gwen,’ she whispered, ‘she’s going to have a baby.’
August 2006
The turning to the town centre passes by on the left and Kitty drives on. At the next junction she glances at the sign to the multi-storey car park but chooses to ignore it. This is not a shopping trip despite what she had told herself when she set off. Ten minutes later, she parks outside June’s house and sits for a moment, one hand rests on the handbrake, the other hovers near the key which she has left in the ignition. She thinks through what she will say to June. Just passing, thought I’d pop in. She worries what June will say to this, for June specifically asked her not to come.
As soon as she gets out of her car, she hears the thud and boom of loud music. She tries the doorbell and is not su
rprised when no one comes. No one can hear her. She presses the doorbell again, longer this time, and almost immediately the door opens. A young man stares down at her. He looks as if he has just woken up. His hair sticks up, uncombed, and he wears tracksuit bottoms and no shirt. He greets Kitty with a raised lip and screwed up nose – a comedy expression of enquiry unaccompanied by words.
Kitty tries to speak, but the music blasts through the open doorway and she has no idea whether she makes a sound or merely opens her mouth. The youth turns and pads off on bare feet. Kitty sees the smoothness of his back and the grey Calvin Klein waistband of his underwear. Suddenly it is silent and he returns to the door.
‘Mum’s out shopping.’ His eyes flit across Kitty’s face and rest on something at some distance behind her.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you. Martin, is it?’ Kitty smiles and the young man shuffles from foot to foot and waits for more from her.
‘I’m a friend of your grandad. I was wondering how he is?’
Martin frowns, his gaze falls to the ground somewhere near Kitty’s feet.
‘I don’t know – he’s all right.’ He nods and sways as if he still hears the music. He makes a move to close the door and Kitty puts out her hand.
‘I was going to ask your mother if she thought I might visit him after all – I’ll be careful not to tire him. I would just like to see for myself how he is.’
Martin shuffles round and dips his hand into a china dish on a shelf behind him and pulls out a key.
‘All right?’ he asks as he holds the key out and reaches to close the door with his other hand. Kitty hesitates, then takes the key and turns to go; the music resumes as she passes through the gate and she thinks that she can still hear the faint boom of it when she reaches Bert’s home. She lets herself in with the key.
‘Hello? Bert, it’s Kitty.’
‘Oh Kitty!’ His reply is earnest. ‘Oh, thank goodness, Kitty,’ he says as she appears in the doorway of his sunroom. Bert reaches for his stick, balances it against his knee and starts to stand. He presses his large hands into the arms of his chair and his shoulders begin to tremble as he rises. Kitty hurries towards him.
‘Please don’t get up, Bert. Are you all right? June told me that you weren’t at all well after my last visit.’
‘I’m all right. I’m all right – it’s you, Kitty. I’ve been so worried about you.’
Bert sinks back into the chair and blinks away tears.
‘Whatever for, Bert? You don’t want to worry about me. I’m fine.’
‘I am so sorry, Kitty. Sit down . . . I have to tell you something.’
‘Yes, all right, but please don’t upset yourself – there’s to be no more talk about the war. June rang me to say that she thought I’d better not come at all, because it had upset you so much last time. And I nearly didn’t come except I wanted to see how you are and I thought I could cheer you up.’
Bert’s eyes narrow in anger. He takes several noisy gasps of air through his open mouth before he speaks.
‘She had no right – June shouldn’t have – we have to talk about it – it’s been covered up for too long. Too long.’ Bert coughs and reaches for a handkerchief and, as he wipes his eyes and the spittle from his chin, Kitty wonders what he has to tell her and suddenly feels afraid to hear it.
‘It was after the flying bomb, you see, Kitty – what it did to your brother and that, it was meant to be for the best – that’s what he thought – at the time that’s what we all thought.’
Kitty sits perched on the edge of her seat but, as she begins to consider the meaning of what Bert is telling her, she slides back into the chair and reaches for the armrests because she feels as though she is falling.
June 1944
Uncle Geoff picked up the knife, stabbed a slice of bread and held it out across the table at Kitty.
‘Late home for his tea last night and not here for breakfast . . .’
Kitty took the bread and Uncle Geoff made a quick bayonet-jab into the next slice and held it up in Aunt Vi’s direction. ‘Did you hear him go out this morning, Vi? If he’s not back before I’m ready to leave, he’ll spend the day digging ditches with an empty belly and it’ll serve him right.’
Since D-Day Charlie had hardly been at home. On the afternoon that the invasion began, he cycled miles exploring the deserted staging camps, fascinated by the evidence of rapid departure. There were guards at the field gates but, leaving his bicycle and crossing through the trees behind one camp, Charlie was able to wander through empty Nissen huts that a day ago had been full of men.
In one he discovered a piece of wood, the size of a cricket ball that had been half-carved into a bear – unfinished and left behind. The carver had seen the potential in the wood, a curve in a branch like a swollen elbow suggesting the haunches of the animal. The head and back were complete, but the underside and legs were roughly hewn as if the bear had yet to come fully to life and walk free of its mould. Charlie brought it home and that night began whittling wood with his pocket knife. He sat by the fire in the evenings, skinning the bark from sticks and flicking the curls into the flames.
The front door opened then banged shut and Charlie appeared in the doorway of the small dining room beside the kitchen. He was flushed and glistening with sweat. His short-cropped dark hair was shrouded in dust and smudges of grime marked his face.
‘They’re waterproofing the tanks up the road at Broughton’s!’ He grinned at them, then his gaze fell immediately to the table. ‘I’m starving.’
‘Have you forgotten that you’re working for Tom Farrell today?’ Uncle Geoff asked. ‘I’m leaving in one minute.’
‘Go and wash before you think of sitting at the table,’ said Aunt Vi as she set about pouring Charlie a cup of tea.
They heard the jet of water from the kitchen tap blasting into the stone sink and Charlie shouted to them over the noise of it.
‘One of the soldiers, Solly – he’s my friend, he told me that they’re going over soon, any day now. They’ve had orders to stand to.’
Returning to the room, he flung himself into his chair at the table. Immediately reaching for his teacup, he raised it to his lips while simultaneously reaching for a slice of bread with his other hand.
‘They’re a mobile workshop. As we push the Nazis out of France, they’ll follow the front line, fixing up the damaged tanks.’ Charlie spread a spoonful of jam on his bread and took another slice, which he pressed on top of it.
‘I’m to go back later.’ He took a large mouthful and gobbled it down, turning to Aunt Vi. ‘Solly said I should take some more cherries – the orchard’s full of them and they’ve been told to pick what they can before they go.’
Uncle Geoff stood up. ‘Come on, lad, let’s get on now. I told Tom we’d be there at eight.’
Charlie downed his tea and followed his uncle, taking his bread and jam with him.
‘We’ll have a job to make more jam, Kitty,’ remarked Aunt Vi. ‘We’re all but out of sugar. I’ll see if your uncle can get a couple of rabbits so as we can make a swap. The next thing you know, the raspberries will be ripening.’
Charlie had taken to visiting the soldiers who were camped in the orchards at Broughton Farm whenever he could, and had brought home cherries by the pound which Auntie Vi and Kitty had made into pies and jam. As Kitty ate the cherries, she kept a tally with the rhyme – Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, rich man, poor man, beggarman, thief – smiling to herself when she ate the third and imagining herself married to Sammy. If she ate on, she kept account of the rhyme in her head – happy to pause at rich man but always eating on until she could stop at soldier.
She hadn’t seen Sammy since the day after they went together to Ashford when he had come to say goodbye. But, as he had promised, a letter arrived for her each morning and some days she received two. His letters began, Kitty, my darling or, My dearest, darling Kitty and ended, All my love, ever yours, Sammy – and those words popped into her head at any g
iven moment each day, filling her with a happiness that made her giddy.
One morning, a week or so after D-Day, as Aunt Vi stirred the preserving pan over the heat and the sickly-sweet smell of cherries and sugar filled the air, they heard the chugging drone of passing aircraft. Kitty had been cutting circles of greaseproof paper and she dropped the scissors and ran outside. Directly overhead was a dark plane trailing a red flame. It passed over the house and was followed by another. A fighter plane appeared and tailed the second. Kitty watched until they were out of sight. She was shielding her eyes with her hand and staring into the sky when Aunt Vi came to the door.
‘What was it? Did you see?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know . . .’ Kitty struggled to describe it. ‘It was strange, two planes with flames out the back.’
‘What do you mean – were they on fire?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Well,’ said Auntie Vi, ‘they certainly sounded strange – more like enormous motorbikes.’
They returned to the kitchen and Kitty was bothered by what she had seen and the uncomfortable feeling stayed with her all day.
That night, before she went to sleep she read Sammy’s letters. She read each of them through in order and, when she got to the last one, she went back to the first and read them all again. She read on until her eyes were closing and then she slipped the bundle of letters beneath her pillow as she fell asleep.
Kitty had been dreaming, a dream where Sammy had been with her and they were happy. It was not a dream she would recall. The explosion ripped her from sleep to wakefulness, so that she stood fully alert and shaking beside her bed, her bare feet staggering on the linoleum. She had no idea what had happened to her. Coming to her senses, she heard Charlie’s bedroom door wrenched open and banged shut. Uncle Geoff and Aunt Vi’s voices called from their bedroom as she hurried on to the landing. Charlie hurtled downstairs, pulling on his clothes before yanking open the front door.
