Beneath a Frosty Moon

by Rita Bradshaw

  When the train stopped it was at a small station seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The guards marched them off down a wide track and birds were singing in the trees either side of the trail. Jed had always loved to hear the birds, even the calling of the wood pigeons that were such a pest with the crops – it was part of what made the farm home – but now the sound was a subtle and cruel mockery of what they were having to endure. Nature was oblivious to their misery and was continuing on regardless. The sun still came up and went down, night followed day, and underneath the blue sky there were unspeakably evil things happening. He could go mad if he thought about it too long.

  They must have walked through fields and woods for nearly four miles before the countryside suddenly vanished. Ahead was a POW camp with armed guards on a watchtower but beyond that, in the distance, was what looked like a massive building site stretching as far as the eye could see. Smoke plumed from chimneys and steam cranes and the framework of what looked like a huge factory was in place.

  They were marched into the camp which was situated on the southern edge of the building work, and found the compound to consist of rows of barracks in which there were no mattresses but just bare timber bunks. The latrines were basic, each merely a row of holes in a plank over a pit, and they stank to high heaven. It wasn’t until other Allied prisoners returned from working at the site they had seen in the distance that Jed found out what it was all about and where they were.

  The gigantic factory was being built to manufacture synthetic rubber for Hitler’s war effort, as well as methanol for fuel. It was even larger than Jed and the others had thought, being two miles long and a mile deep, and was laid out like a huge grid with many buildings, towers, chimneys and gantries everywhere and narrow railway lines connecting each block, the whole thing being dominated by a large industrial plant with four chimneys.

  ‘So it’s a labour camp?’ Jock asked their informant.

  The man looked at the newcomers and shrugged. ‘In a manner of speaking. You’ll see soon enough tomorrow.’

  ‘What do you mean, in a manner of speaking?’ Neville wasn’t one for prevarication.

  ‘Well, it might be a labour camp for us, but not for the stripeys.’

  ‘The stripeys?’

  ‘The Jews. There’s thousands of them, all starving, all dying, all being worked to death. They die by the dozens every day in their zebra uniforms and the Kapos beat and kick them to death where they fall, straight in front of us. They don’t even waste a bullet on the poor beggars. Did you notice that sickly-sweet smell when you were marched in? It’s coming from the chimneys in the original brick-built camp where they burn the Jews, dead or alive. That’s where the gas chambers are. The SS and the Kapos – they’re German criminals recruited as guards and every bit as bad as the SS – they have a field day over there. It’s hell on earth, plain and simple.’

  Jed felt sick. ‘Where are we? What’s this place called?’

  ‘The Polish name is Oświęcim. The Nazis call it Auschwitz.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cora stared at Jed’s mother. She knew, even before Mrs Croft spoke, what she was going to say. It was written all over her face. ‘We . . . we had a telegram, lass. Missing presumed dead.’

  Mr and Mrs Croft had just drawn up in their horse and trap and Cora had gone to meet them, having been walking across from one of the barns. Now she was aware of Rachel hurrying from the house, saying, ‘Is everything all right?’ as she came wiping floury hands on her apron. ‘Is it news of Jed?’

  Cora turned and said simply, ‘Missing presumed dead.’

  ‘Oh, lass, lass.’ Rachel squeezed her shoulder before looking up at Jed’s parents sitting in the trap. ‘I’m so sorry, so very sorry, but missing . . . There’s still hope. Only last week Mrs Newton heard her Luke’s alive and he’s been missing since before Christmas. Come in for a cup of tea, won’t you? The kettle’s on.’

  ‘Thanks all the same but we’ll get back. We just wanted to let Cora know ourselves.’ Mr Croft cleared his throat. ‘He thought the world of you, lass,’ he said awkwardly, his blue eyes resting on Cora’s stricken face. ‘I don’t understand why he went off like he did, I’ll never understand it, but I do know you were the only lass in the world for him.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Croft.’ She felt sick with guilt. What would Jed’s parents say if they knew the truth? That she had been responsible for him leaving without a word and enlisting? That he had killed a man to protect her and then hadn’t been able to stay where he would be constantly reminded of what he had done?

  Rachel had moved round the trap and was patting Mrs Croft’s hand. ‘Don’t give up hope, lass,’ she murmured, looking into Jed’s mother’s swollen, pink-rimmed eyes. ‘I’ve a feeling your lad’s all right and I’m not given to fancies.’

  Cora’s eyes shot to Rachel’s face. Was she just saying that to comfort Jed’s mother or did she really believe it? She would give anything for it to be true, anything.

  They stood together as the trap disappeared in a cloud of dust. The August day was baking hot like the ones before it and the month had been a good one for the Allies. In the middle of August a massive Allied force had landed on a hundred-mile coastal strip from Nice to Marseilles, and days later they had taken back Florence, Marseilles and Grenoble from the Nazis. Then, after four years of brutal German occupation, the population of Paris had celebrated as French tanks led the Allies into the city. The Nazi swastika was gone from the Eiffel Tower and the Tricolour flew once again for the Parisians. General de Gaulle had returned and the people of Paris could move freely again.

  All this ran through Rachel’s mind as she stood with Cora wondering how to comfort the girl. She knew that every time there had been a positive report about the war since Jed had gone Cora had been buoyed up, hoping it signalled a step nearer to the Nazis being defeated and Jed coming home safe and sound. And now this. Missing presumed dead. Quietly she said, ‘Lass, they say “missing presumed dead” when they don’t know, that’s the truth of it.’

  ‘Did you mean what you said to Jed’s mam? About him being all right?’

  Rachel nodded. ‘You know me well enough by now to know I’m not one for soft soap, Cora. I’ve felt all along, right from day one, that Jed’ll come home.’ She cleared her throat. The hope in Cora’s eyes was painful to witness. ‘And when he does, you two’ll get together again, you mark my words.’

  ‘I doubt that but it won’t matter as long as he comes back. He’s never written, has he? But he’s sent letters to his mam.’ Cora drew in her breath. ‘And he’s made no mention of me.’

  ‘Jed’s mother told you that?’

  ‘No, no, but she’s mentioned to Wilfred she thinks it’s odd and he’s told me.’

  ‘Right.’ Rachel had her own opinion about Wilfred. She could see he was besotted with Cora and always had been, and of course the lad couldn’t help how he felt, but there was something about him she couldn’t put her finger on. He was always very polite and helpful when he came to the farm which he’d taken to doing on a Sunday afternoon since Jed had joined up, ostensibly to ‘take Cora out of herself for a bit’ as he’d put it, but there was something, perhaps the way he looked at Cora, that was . . . Rachel couldn’t find a word to describe what she meant, she just knew it gave her the creeps. ‘Well, personally, considering Wilfred’s supposed to be such a good friend, I think that was unhelpful of him to say the least.’

  ‘Oh, it just slipped out, he didn’t mean anything by it.’ Both Cora’s voice and attitude were on the defensive. She didn’t know what she would have done without Wilfred over the last months. He had been sympathetic and supportive without making any demands on her, regularly providing a shoulder to cry on and offering unconditional friendship. And he hadn’t been nasty about Jed either. She had appreciated that, not judging him for disappearing without a word to anyone and joining up, which she had expected. It would have been hard if Wilfred had taken that tack. She felt guilty enough as it
was. But Wilfred had just said that although he didn’t understand how Jed could have left her the way he had he assumed Jed must have his reasons, and as Jed had grown to be a friend he wouldn’t speak ill of him.

  ‘No? Well, you know Wilfred better than me but still waters run deep, that’s all I’d say.’ And then Rachel’s voice softened as she said, ‘Come on in and I’ll make us a cuppa, lass.’

  As it was the last week of August Maria and the others were still on holiday from school and at present out in the fields helping the POWs and a couple of soldiers bring in the harvest. It had been a hot summer but Rachel, like many other farmers, had been on edge for the last week or two. It just needed a spell of bad weather, with wind and rain battering down the grain fields and lodging the heads and shedding the corn, and a whole year’s work could be sabotaged at the whim of nature. But today, like the ones before it, was dry and sunny, and everyone had been in the fields since daylight except for Cora and Rachel who were seeing to the other jobs that needed doing around the farm, as well as bringing the workers’ food and drink to them at regular intervals. Breakfast at six once the POWs and soldiers arrived at the farm and before they began work, lunch at ten o’clock, dinner at one, afternoon tea at four and supper at seven. It was a full-time job in itself.

  Once in the kitchen they drank their tea as they prepared dinner for the workers in the fields, but when Rachel offered Cora a warm teacake she shook her head. If she tried to eat anything it would choke her; the lump in her throat was too big. Missing presumed dead. The three words were pounding in her head like a sledgehammer, an embodiment of all her worst fears come true, and she longed to talk to Wilfred. He would understand, he always did, but she knew he would be working on the harvest at Appletree Farm along with Horace and wouldn’t finish until dusk. No doubt all he would want then was his bed.

  The day dragged on. Maria and Maud were all sympathy when they heard the news, coming out with the usual platitudes that folk said at times like this and looking at her with concerned faces. Cora wanted to ask them to say nothing at all because banalities like ‘It will be all right, lass, you wait and see’ and ‘You don’t know for sure, don’t give up hope’ were well meant but made her want to scream. But of course she said nothing to upset them, it wouldn’t be fair. She returned Maria’s hug, fighting back the tears when Maria whispered, ‘Like I said before, we’ll get through this together, lass, and don’t forget you’ve always got me,’ but knowing she was really on her own because no one could truly understand how she felt. The weight of her guilt seemed impossible to bear but she had to bear it, it was as simple as that. Somehow, for the rest of her life, she had to shoulder this burden alone and she didn’t know how she was going to do it.

  It was almost dark when there was a knock at the back door just as they were all drinking their last cup of milky cocoa before going to bed. When Wilfred walked into the kitchen, Cora was aware that she had known deep down he would come once he heard about Jed. He would know she needed him and Wilfred had never let her down.

  She jumped up, taking his arm as he nodded to the others, and saying, ‘Come for a walk,’ before turning to Rachel and adding, ‘I won’t be long.’

  He didn’t speak until they were outside, and then he put his arms round her as he said softly, ‘I’m so sorry, lass. I’m so, so sorry.’

  For a moment she stiffened – it was the first time he had taken her in his arms – but then she relaxed against him and the tears she had been holding in all day spilled over. Wilfred was the same height as her, non-threatening, comforting, and just Wilfred, and she had never needed his brotherly love so much.

  For a full minute they stood quietly, Wilfred letting her cry, and then as she pulled away, wiping her face with the back of her hand, he pulled out his handkerchief.

  ‘Here,’ he said very gently, adding with a small smile, ‘And it is freshly laundered, don’t worry.’

  She managed a small smile back.

  ‘Come on, let’s go for that walk you mentioned.’ He took her hand before she could protest but then she didn’t really want to object. She knew she wouldn’t sleep a wink.

  He led her away from the farm and once they were in the dusty lane beyond, the scent of trees and flowers was sweet on the still night air, the smells of the farmyard behind them. The birds had already put themselves to bed but the occasional one still called or sang in the thick twilight. It was peaceful, timeless, and all at odds with how she was feeling inside.

  As though he had heard her thoughts, Wilfred murmured, ‘I’m not going to say time’s a great healer because you don’t need that now, but what I would say is, take each day a minute at a time, Cora. Don’t try and look beyond the immediate moment. The future will take care of itself. And you’re not alone, however much it may feel like it. You come first with me, you always have and you always will.’

  Cora swallowed hard. She felt sick with remorse but she couldn’t betray Jed by telling Wilfred that Jed had killed a man for her. Instead she whispered, ‘There’s . . . there’s things to do with me you don’t know about, things I’d give anything to change.’

  She had pulled her hand from his, her head bowed, and now Wilfred lifted up her chin with one finger. ‘Nothing you could do or say would make me think any the less of you, lass, and I’m here for you, all right? Always.’ His hazel eyes held hers. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

  She nodded. Yes, she did know that and in spite of her misery Wilfred’s presence here tonight was balm to her sore heart. Her mam had abandoned her, her da too in a way, and then Jed, but Wilfred remained constant. Some lads with a mam and da like he’d got would have grown hard and bitter but Wilfred wasn’t like that. She smiled a little shakily, and then slipped her arm through his as they began to walk again. Echoing what she had thought earlier in the day, she said softly, ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Wilfred.’

  Her words and the pressure of her arm in his caused a feeling that was akin to pain to assail Wilfred. Physically he wanted her so much that most nights, exhausted though he was after a day’s hard grind on the farm, he couldn’t fall asleep until the early hours, the burning in his loins causing him to toss and turn in his bed across the room from Horace. But it was his great love for her, which was a thing apart from physical desire, that kept the craving in check when he was with her. He knew if he was to bring his plan of making Cora his wife to fruition it was essential he trod carefully. And so that was exactly what he had done since Jed had left.

  Good old Wilfred, reliable old Wilfred. Mentally he smiled derisively. But it was working. He knew it was. He had won back all the ground which had been lost when Jed had been around, and more. Aye, and more. The love she felt for him had changed even though he knew Cora wasn’t aware of it, but she needed him now. Her face had lit up when he had walked into the kitchen earlier.

  Following on from this thought, he said quietly, ‘You knew I’d come to see you tonight, didn’t you?’

  ‘I hoped you would.’ She paused. ‘How is Jed’s mam?’

  ‘Upset as you’d expect.’ He felt sorry for Mr and Mrs Croft, they’d been good to him, but he did not hold himself responsible for their grief. If Jed hadn’t tried to take Cora away from him he would still be here with his parents on the farm. Jed had brought it all on himself, and them. The golden boy, who’d always had everything he wanted – well, he’d showed him, hadn’t he.

  ‘Poor things.’ The guilt was a ton weight on her soul. Their three sons gone now. However would Mrs Croft bear it?

  Knowing what she needed to hear, Wilfred said, ‘Actually, they’re coping far better than you’d expect. They’ve got a strong marriage, you see, and they draw on each other. Rumour has it that Jed’s da got Mrs Croft on the rebound. She’d been engaged to someone else and he skedaddled, but she absolutely thinks the world of Jed’s da now.’ This had the advantage of being true. He’d heard the story from one of the old timers in the village and had mentally stored it away for a suitable
moment to repeat to Cora. A seed in her mind, if you like.

  ‘I didn’t know that.’ Cora looked at him in surprise. She, too, had noticed how happy Mr and Mrs Croft seemed together on the Sundays she’d had tea at the farm.

  ‘Oh, aye.’ Wilfred kept his voice airy and conversational with some effort. He wanted to say more but to labour the point tonight wouldn’t be appropriate.

  ‘Mrs Burns feels Jed’s still alive,’ Cora said suddenly.

  Wilfred faltered in his step but then continued on, and his voice came level and untroubled when he said, ‘What do you feel? You were close to him, after all.’

  There was a long pause. ‘I don’t know. I – I want to believe he is and I do in a way, but then I think it’s only that I want to believe it and not the truth. That if I keep willing him to live, he will. Does that sound barmy?’

  ‘No, not barmy, but . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just that . . .’

  ‘What? Tell me, Wilfred.’ Cora stopped, taking her arm from his and searching his face in the darkness. ‘Please, say what you’re thinking.’

  ‘You know I care about you, right? And I don’t want to see you driving yourself crazy. Sometimes it’s better to face the truth and accept something, however horrible, than go on living in hope. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to let go, lass? After all, he chose to leave, didn’t he?’

  ‘You mean he left me.’ It was flat.

  ‘No, not just you, everyone. And that being the case, whether he is still alive or not, perhaps you ought to get on with your life. Look . . .’ Wilfred allowed a moment to expand, become tension-filled. ‘Maybe Jed doesn’t want what you want, what you imagined he wanted. No one really knows someone else.’