Ginny blushed with gratitude.
They held the reception in the basement of the church. The room was filled with pink and white carnations. Anna found their scents so delightful they were almost intoxicating.
The room grew crowded with the sounds of laughter and pleasant observations. She heard one young man comment, “Patsy sure is a looker.”
Anna, always a lover of food, decided to have a look at the offerings for the sixty or so guests. The buffet style meal looked delicious with turkey, mashed potatoes, peas, carrots, devilled eggs, pickles and even olives. There was a separate table for desserts, which included pies, cakes and squares. The entire meal had been catered.
Roger and Patsy obviously did well at their jobs to be able to afford such splendor.
* * *
Daniel led Anna over to a table populated by a number of her old neighbours where there were four empty chairs. They invited Anna and Daniel to join them. They sat near the open door. A fresh breeze would keep her cool and comfortable.
Anna and Daniel had just settled into their seats when Dora Harding, Charles’ wife, rushed up to claim one of the unoccupied chairs. Anna knew from her mother’s letters Charles had married a school teacher eleven years his senior. Dora was a massive, full-faced woman. Her bulk was encased in a dark green suit and matching hat that sat precariously atop her large head. Anna wondered if she reminded Daniel of the tank he’d commanded.
Please God. Don’t let Charles follow his wife.
Thankfully, Margaret had been true to her word and cancelled tea with Charles and Dora earlier. Anna hoped Dora wouldn’t ask about her assumed bout with the flu.
Dora said, “Charles come sit beside Anna and me. Anna won’t bite. You sit beside me and I’ll sit beside Anna.” She barked the orders like an army officer. Damn the woman. Anna moved as far away as she could without seeming rude.
Reluctantly, Charles shuffled over and slowly settled into a chair. He looked very much alive, despite the sinister letter he’d sent her on her wedding day.
Anna silently thanked God she hadn’t married him out of pity, or guilt, and she’d kept his secret, just as he’d requested.
Charles had put on weight, so his hips appeared even wider than they’d been when she’d last seen him. His cropped hair had gone completely gray. She noticed his hand shook as he brought the teacup to his lips.
Anna decided to speak to Dora and ignore Charles. “Dora, I would like you to meet my husband, Daniel.”
Anna heard none of the chatter and laughter that filled the crowded room. Daniel gave a curt, unfriendly nod. Charles’ shoulders slumped as he sank deeper into his chair. Anna remembered how Daniel had chivalrously defended her from Charles’ unwanted attentions. It was obvious the two men still hated each other.
Dora snapped back, louder than necessary even in this noisy room, “We met in the reception line.”
She turned all of her attention back to Anna. “So, you’re Anna. I’ve heard all about you. However, it’s not all been accurate, though.” Dora leaned in closer. “You’re much prettier than I expected and you’re definitely not too thin. Your husband is a handsome man. Not a brutish chap at all.” Dora paid no attention to anyone else at their table.
“Yes, he’s handsome. I’m a lucky woman.” Anna smiled at her husband and reached for his large, warm hand. Her own were cold as snow.
She turned once again to Dora. “As you mentioned, I have gained weight since moving to Canada. In England, during the war, I suffered like everyone else with rationing.”
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “In Canada, there’s no end of food. I have a huge vegetable garden and strawberry and raspberry bushes. I do all my own canning in the fall.”
Anna feared she might be prattling, yet she couldn’t help herself. The woman appeared almost formidable. Anna babbled on. Now mostly about the weather.
Dora, apparently bored, ignored Anna. She turned and addressed her husband. “Now Charles, remember not to talk with your mouth full. Sometimes your table manners are appalling.”
Charles blushed and his eyes focused on the table top. Anna almost felt sorry for him.
Abruptly, Dora turned back to Anna. “You may like the fair skies in your beloved Canada, but all the sunshine can be bad for the complexion. One can’t be too careful.” She stared at Anna’s face. Anna clenched her jaw under the scrutiny.
She took note of Dora’s complexion. Dull and sallow. Damn. She was too polite to criticize.
Muriel Fletcher, a kindly, gray haired neighbor dressed in regal purple, turned her soft blue eyes on Dora. “So Dora, are you still teaching?”
Dora sniffed. “I’ll be teaching until I die. The hardware store doesn’t make enough for us to live on. Charles should have taken up a profession like medicine or law. Her voice carried across the room.
“I do enjoy teaching. There’s none of this silly kindness from me. I keep my classroom silent, the only atmosphere in which my grade five students can learn.”
Dora adjusted her hat. “When I need to discipline my students, and I have to frequently, I have them stand with their arms outstretched and pile books on them. They receive the strap if they drop them too soon.”
Anna wondered what Robert’s darling young girlfriend would think about such methods.
* * *
Anna volunteered to accompany Daniel to Normandy but he refused. He needed to follow his psychologist’s orders by himself. He’d felt terrifyingly alone on D-Day, even though he’d been with thousands of other soldiers. It needed to be the same now. Something he wanted to face alone.
Daniel was almost rigid with fear at the sight of the large, brightly-painted double decker ferry that would take him to the coast of Normandy.
The waters were calm and the sun shone, all in contrast to D-Day. He compared it to the rough, choppy crossing, which in itself had resulted not only in seasickness but also in numerous drowning deaths.
Daniel stood behind the other passengers and vehicles, outwardly calm but vibrating with acute anxiety.
He had no luggage, coat, nor sunglasses. He was aware of the chatter of the people behind him, but couldn’t discern what was said even though they stood close by.
Daniel trembled as he had on D-Day. The ship neared capacity and people crowded each other in their eagerness to get on board. Please God. Let there be no room for me. Then I’ll have an excuse not to board.
The scene reminded him of when his ship from Canada arrived in Liverpool; except, of course, then he’d been with Anna and very happy.
The excitement and pleasure of his fellow passengers as they greeted one another, some in English and some in French surrounded him with laughter and conversation under a pall of cigarette smoke. Most of these people appeared affluent. Their obvious happiness failed to alleviate his anxiety and made him more conscious of his feelings of isolation.
Despite the day’s warmth, Daniel’s hands were chilled as he paid for his return ticket. He couldn’t answer the friendly clerk when this round-faced, ruddy cheeked man asked in cockney English why he travelled. The man appeared surprised when Daniel turned away without speaking. Daniel paid for the voyage in English pounds and had to be reminded to pick up his change.
The kindly clerk shook his head and muttered “I’ve never seen the likes of him.”
Daniel wordlessly handed his Canadian passport to the government agent. The stern-looking French man quickly stamped it and motioned for Daniel to proceed.
Daniel was the last passenger to walk up the ramp onto the boat. He moved slowly, with his head down, like an old man. Bile rose in his throat and his stomach churned.
Twice, he almost turned around. But a member of the crew, a tall, well-built blond man, walked close behind him. Suddenly he wished he had Anna with him.
A cold wind blew as the ferry pulled out into the open water. Many of his fellow passengers struggled into their coats. A couple of men lost their hats. Daniel remained unmindful of the cha
nge in temperature.
He knew better than to go through the small door into the part of the ship where they sold coffee and soft drinks and cigarettes to the throngs of happy passengers. He couldn’t stomach anything and he had enough cigarettes.
Daniel wanted to stay away from other people. He stayed on deck and smoked. The crew member who’d followed him on board watched him carefully, but made no attempt to speak to Daniel.
Daniel looked over the horizon. Images of the D-Day invasion were superimposed over the beautiful sunshine and shining water. The ships tossed on the seas, the planes overhead, tanks, and, the swarms of infantry. The beach crowded beyond capacity and the noise overwhelming. Fear was a tangible thing, hanging in a miasma over the scene, sharp in his nostrils and on his tongue. He lit a cigarette with trembling hands but it did little to calm him. Nearby a group of students lounged in the sunlight laughing and joking.
He’d fought for these young people and was glad he’d done so.
Suddenly, he was in the Firefly with the blood and entrails and fragments of brain all around him. It was like his nightmares. Only worse. He vomited over the railing. The pain of retching was satisfying in a strange way. A purging. Daniel heated with embarrassment from the surreptitious glances of the other passengers. The sickness gripped him again and the other passengers moved indoors.
He raised his head and wished he hadn’t. Buried in the mud of the shore was a Firefly Sherman. The pounding of his heart sent dizzying waves sweeping over him, his vision blurred and he gripped the rail to stay upright. I wonder how its commander died? The errant thought flashed his mind. Would the war never end for him? Was he destined to be stuck on the beach forever? The landing came closer which set his heart racing faster. He was safe here on the water; when the ferry made land he’d have to disembark and make his way to Juno Beach.
The ferry shuddered as it came to rest against the docks. Daniel let the crush of passengers carry him off the ferry onto the docks. There was a town nearby which he had no desire to visit. The narrow cobblestone streets between towering buildings, though peaceful now under the French sun, would ring with gunfire and screams in his mind. The world swam before him and he fought to force breath into his lungs. His chest constricted painfully.
* * *
In order to avoid going directly to the beach, Daniel decided he would wander the Normandy countryside.
The other foot passengers had been picked up by friends or relatives and most everyone else had driven their car or bicycle away from the harbour. The ferry wouldn’t be returning to England for hours so few people waited.
Daniel forced himself to put one foot in front of the other and follow the near-deserted pathway.
He came to a beautiful, secluded spot surrounded by maple trees and poppies. His senses rebelled when he realized he’d entered a vast, well-maintained cemetery. The restful sounds of the wind in the trees and the chirping of song birds seemed a mockery of the mangled bodies hidden under the green grass.
Simple yet elegant white crosses were arranged in rows, neat and tidy, hundreds of them. They seemed to go on forever.
Daniel staggered through them. So many lives. Why wasn’t he one of them, why had he survived?
Daniel shivered in a sudden cold breeze and wrapped his arms around his chest. White transparent figures dart past him. Ghosts? Yes. Would they harm him? Yes.
He’d never laugh when he heard a house was haunted again.
Daniel thought of looking for the graves of the men from his tank. Didn’t he owe them that much?
He fought the urge to bolt from the beautiful, haunting place. His legs refused to obey him. Away. He must get away. Daniel sank to his knees between the silent crosses, convulsed in tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he choked on the words. There was no one except the ghosts and birds to hear him.
Damn Dr. Mathews. He was a sadist.
Eventually, the sobs reduced to hiccups and shuddering breaths. As he calmed, the realization came to him along with a wave of peace. The ghosts flitted around him, brushing his clothes as though in benediction and forgiveness. “I’m a good father and a good husband. What happened wasn’t my fault. I owe it to all the young men who died to live my life with integrity and honour, to live the best I can in their memory,” he whispered. Anna’s words came back to him, everything she tried to tell him was true; he saw that now. How lucky he was to have a woman like her as his wife and partner.
Daniel got to his feet, wiping his wet cheeks and left the cemetery. He wandered aimlessly for a bit and suddenly realized his surroundings were very similar to home. It comforted him. The Normandy coast was beautiful in the sunlight with cattle grazing and green fields. The shining blue skies contained only a few fluffy, white clouds. Apple blossoms covered the trees, their heady scent perfuming the air.
A couple of girls passed on bicycles. Their shining dark hair glistened in the sunshine. They laughed and called something in French. There was peace here, a peace he’d helped bring about. Daniel came to a junction. He turned to follow a little-used road. Birds sang and wildflowers bloomed.
To his surprise, a car approached, the noise and smell turned his stomach. Daniel quickly retreated to the side of the road.
The driver, a dark haired man with a neat mustache and a jaunty cap, called out something in French. Even from a distance, Daniel could see the man’s very white teeth.
Daniel exhausted his French. “Parlez-vous Anglais?” Please. Let him speak English.
The man shook his head. “Non.” He gestured for Daniel to get into the gleaming green Peugeot automobile.
Through motions, Daniel did his best to politely decline although he assumed the man’s intentions were genuine. He needed to be alone.
Daniel didn’t know the French words to thank the man for his offer. The Frenchman seemed to understand. He gave a small wave and drove slowly past. The Peugeot’s tires looked new. After the driver had gone several yards, he sped up leaving a plume of exhaust in his wake.
Daniel walked on, the activity relaxed him. His anxiety slowly dissipated. He enjoyed the warmth of the sun. It seeped through his trousers and long-sleeved shirt.
For the first time since he’d boarded the ferry, Daniel wished he’d brought a hat.
Normandy seemed a walker’s paradise, and he found the exercise cathartic, exhilarating and relaxing all at the same time.
He didn’t check the time and paid little attention to directions. He was confident he could find the ferry again whenever he might be ready to leave.
In the distance, fishing boats and a small, secluded sandy beach came into view. There couldn’t have been a more tranquil scene. There were even fields of wheat. In a few months, the wheat would be golden and incredibly beautiful. Just like it was at home.
He looked in the other direction, and saw what might have once been a castle or at least a fortified house. It was obviously very old. Tall grass grew up around the sides of the ruined structure, and wind had eroded much of the stone. Nature had overtaken it.
What it would have been like to live in such an edifice? While it appeared elegant, it probably would have been cold and drafty, even with a fire blazing. Perhaps the peasants had it better in their cottages.
The ancient structure reminded Daniel there had been wars and a need for protection long before his war, World War II. He believed his had been the most terrible because it affected him personally. The war was over, he reminded himself. Now, there was no need for protection. Normandy was as safe as Canada.
The wind blew, soft and silent. Nothing like Lethbridge’s roaring gales. It caressed his face. Daniel was happy. Actually happy. He would tell Anna he hadn’t the courage to lift the hatch on his Firefly. She would understand. She loved him unconditionally as he loved her.
He filled with an immense sense of peace. Joy filled him and overflowed into the bright afternoon. He was free from his bondage at last.
The End
I have lived in Calgary all my
adult life. I love Calgary, even on days like this when it’s late March and still snowing. I have been happily married to Bruce Bohnet for the past 45 years. We have travelled extensively. We both enjoy experiencing new places and meeting new people
Till The Wind Blows Silent Page 21
