Bombers’ Moon

by Iris Gower

  He kissed her fingertips. ‘Mind, you put me in my place very well that night in the ice cream parlour. I never felt so small in all my life.’ He turned her hand over and kissed her palm. ‘I’ve learned a lot about life and death since then.’

  Hari stood undecided between the two beds, she couldn’t leave Kate, she would want to come back and talk to Father and yet, their conversation was so private.

  ‘Stephen, I fell in love—really in love—with Eddie, remember my darling Eddie? You almost ruined that for me, you and that spiteful girl you were with. But he came back, he loved me in spite of everything.’ Her voice broke and Hari wondered if she should intervene but Kate’s next words stopped her.

  ‘I was having Eddie’s baby when the… the explosion happened. Now Eddie’s missing in action, I’ve got no mammy or family, I can’t see anything at all and I feel my life is over so I do.’

  ‘Of course your life’s not over!’ Stephen protested, ‘you are still a very beautiful woman with your dark Irish curls and your eyes are still the cornflower blue they always were.’ He stroked her hands. ‘Look, will you help me when I get out of here? I’ll need someone to help me—a housekeeper—I can’t cook, I can’t make beds, I’m a useless sort of a man it seems.’

  ‘I’m all right as I am, living with Eddie’s mammy,’ Kate said. ‘In any case I can only cook the simplest of meals. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I’ll write down my address in case you ever need me,’ Stephen said. ‘If you do I’m sure Hari will help you find me, won’t you, Hari?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Hari said reluctantly, not at all sure this meeting was what Kate wanted. Kate moved away from the bed and Hari took her arm. ‘My father’s getting a bit rattled, he thinks we’re neglecting him.’

  ‘We are,’ Kate said. ‘Come on let’s go and cheer the old boy up.’ Her demeanour was different as if talking to Stephen had regenerated something of her old spirit.

  ‘Fancy he wanted me with him, Hari,’ she said, ‘sure I’m not entirely helpless, even if I’m blind. I suppose I could still look after a man, at least Stephen thinks so. Sure I might find the cooking a bit of a challenge but I could always open a tin of spam.’

  ‘Thinking of accepting then?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t leave Eddie’s mammy, not for the world.’

  ‘You know that boy?’ Hari’s father’s voice was truculent.

  ‘Yes, Father, he’s a friend of Kate’s.’ She paused. ‘Now, when you come home I’ve got the perfect room for you.’

  ‘I won’t be able to get up stairs very well, Hari, have you thought of that?’

  ‘I’ve got a nice little house with a parlour at the front, I’ll put a bed in there for you Father, you’ll be as cosy as anything. I’ve even got a half decent wireless for you.’

  ‘What about that rascal, Meryl, she’ll be there after school to make me a cuppa now and again, won’t she?’

  Hari frowned. ‘Now you can’t stay an invalid all your life. You will have to learn to get to the kitchen yourself—and Meryl is in the country, an evacuee, you know that.’

  ‘I thought Meryl was at home now.’

  ‘She will be, but only for a few days. She’s happy and safe in the country, doing well at school. I wouldn’t want to bring her home just to wait on you, Father.’

  He grimaced. ‘I see how it’s going to be, poor old Father browbeaten by his children, pushed in the corner now he’s injured defending his country.’ He was smiling.

  Matron bristled into the ward and fixed the visitors with commanding eyes. Without being told, people stood up, pulled on coats and prepared to leave.

  ‘When you’re discharged, I’ll come for you, Father. Until then you’ll have to be patient, I haven’t got another day off for ages.’

  ‘All right.’ He hugged her unexpectedly. ‘I’ve been a distant father mainly due to work and all that but we can grow closer, Hari. I promise you that I won’t be too much of a burden.’

  ‘Don’t be silly Daddy—’ she was unaware she’d used her old pet name for him—‘you won’t be a burden at all, I’ll see to that!’

  Kate waved goodbye in the vague direction of Stephen’s bed. ‘See you, Kate,’ he called, and then Hari was leading the way through the front doors out into the mellow brightness of the day.

  Kate was beside her and she had changed: her face had lightened and Hari understood that from feeling like a victim, Kate now felt herself a real live, wanted woman again. Her next words confirmed what Hari was thinking.

  ‘It’s nice to be wanted by a man again,’ she said softly, ‘even if it is only as a sort of housekeeper.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool, Kate,’ Hari said mockingly, ‘that’s not all he wants, didn’t you hear Stephen say you were beautiful?’

  Kate blushed and all at once she looked like a lovely young girl again.

  Twenty-One

  I said my farewells to Michael and Aunt Jessie with a feeling of foreboding as if I might never see them again. I was only going home to Swansea to visit with my father for a week or two but the time would drag, I just knew it.

  Hari came to fetch me and as usual she chatted to Michael, standing a touch too close to him, looking up into his face, her long shimmering eyelashes ready to bat at him whenever the moment required it which, it seemed to me, was too often for comfort.

  ‘Come on Hari!’ I shifted impatiently from one foot to the other and Hari at last turned her attention to me. ‘If we’re to get back to Swansea before dark we’d better get a move on.’ I knew I sounded sulky but I couldn’t help it.

  Michael hugged me close. ‘Sharp-tongued as ever!’ he said, kissing the top of my head in an awful, brotherly fashion. I longed to wind my arms around his neck, to press my lips to his, show Hari he was mine, but I didn’t dare.

  When we were in the car I glanced at Hari. She had on a neat white shirt and a navy skirt, a tie and a nice fitted jacket; it was almost a uniform. ‘Have you had promotion or something?’

  ‘In a way,’ she said. ‘I’m attached to a signal corps but as a civilian. It makes no difference to my working life, I’m doing the same job and coming home at nights so don’t worry, I’ll be there to care for Father.’

  ‘Does he need much? Caring for I mean?’ I was apprehensive, I didn’t fancy being a ministering angel or Hari having an excuse to bring me home from the country. ‘I’m no nurse, mind.’ I shuddered, exaggerating a little.

  ‘I see to his leg before I go to work, don’t worry,’ Hari said, laughing.

  ‘His leg? Good grief! What’s happened to him then?’

  ‘Father has had his foot amputated but his wounds are more or less healed now.’ She glanced at me, a wicked light in her eyes. ‘It will take him a bit of time to adjust to his false foot though.’

  ‘False foot!’ I made a face. ‘I won’t have to see it, will I?’

  Hari grimaced. ‘Not much of a heroine, are you? Grow up for heaven’s sake and remember Father is a very private man.’

  ‘How can I remember?’ I was exasperated. ‘I hardly know Father, he was always away, wasn’t he?’

  You’re right, sorry.’ Hari was such a nice person she sometimes made me sick. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll soon be back in the country with Michael and Aunt Jessie.’

  I sighed again with relief and thankfulness. ‘I do like it there,’ I admitted, ‘more than I thought I would. I even quite like Georgie Porgy though I’ll never like that mother of his.’

  ‘Are you and George going out together then?’

  God she could be so obtuse. Or was that a gleam of mischief I could see as she glanced my way again.

  I didn’t bother to answer, I just snorted inelegantly and humped into my seat and watched the countryside fly past. I must have slept because at last we came to the edge of Swansea. I could see the smoke from across the bay and I could see the twin rise of Kilvey and Townhill like a mother’s breasts protectively leaning over the untidy rows of houses in the town itself.

  F
ather was hearty in the way most older folk are when they’re not used to young people but I saw at once he didn’t even think of me as a young person. ‘Come to kiss me, child,’ he said.

  I wanted to protest and then I paused. It would suit me to be a child I decided, that way I’d have no responsibilities. I realized I was a selfish bitch but I needed to look out for myself, I’d learned that in my fight with George all those months ago.

  I dutifully kissed his cheek, which was sharp with bristles. ‘You haven’t shaved.’ It came out like an accusation. My father apologized.

  ‘I’m sorry, I was waiting for the kettle to boil. I need hot water, you see.’

  I did feel awful then and hastily I pushed the kettle on the gas stove. ‘I’ll do what little I can to help you, Father.’ I was repentant and looked at his pale face and shadowed eyes, wondering what horrors he’d seen at the place they called ‘the front’.

  ‘Does it hurt much?’ I pointed to his bandaged stump without really looking. He replied with the bravery of the officer and gentleman.

  ‘Hardly at all, er…’

  ‘Meryl,’ I supplied helpfully.

  ‘Yes… Meryl.’ He leaned back in his chair and stared at me and I sort of slumped, not wanting him to see I was budding under my jumper, growing up.

  ‘It’s a pity your mother isn’t here to, well, to tell you things about, well… life.’

  ‘Hari’s here,’ I said at once, ‘she’s a good sister, she sees I’m safe down in Carmarthen away from the bombs.’ It didn’t hurt to emphasize the point that it wasn’t safe for me in Swansea, not when the bombers came.

  In the afternoon, Hari called at the house briefly. ‘I’ve got to work tonight,’ she said casually, ‘but it’s a one-off, don’t worry, and Meryl is here if you need anything.’

  I was alarmed and must have looked it. Hari frowned at me and her look told me to pull myself together. ‘It’s only this once.’ Her tone was brisk. ‘It won’t hurt you to help for one night, Meryl. You’ve got it easy the rest of the time.’

  I’d never seen her so cross and I hugged her tight. ‘We’ll manage, don’t worry, we’ll be all right, won’t we, Father?’

  ‘Of course we will. You go, Angharad.’ I was to find that Father always called my sister by her full name. ‘You have your war work to do like the rest of us.’

  I found myself making my father’s supper for him. I wasn’t a cook by any stretch of the imagination but I’d watched Aunt Jessie countless times whisk an egg with a little milk and scramble it in a pan. So I did that for my father and made a pile of toast with the bread and butter I’d brought from the farm.

  He ate hungrily and for the first time I felt the satisfaction of feeding someone and watching their enjoyment of the food I’d prepared. I could hear Aunt Jessie’s voice in my head.

  ‘You’ll make someone a good wife yet, my girl.’ I thought lovingly of Michael and as always hugged to me the thought of us together that night, it seemed long ago now, that we’d huddled together for warmth and I’d slept with my cheek against his chest.

  ‘You’re dreaming, Meryl. Some boy is it?’

  I looked sharply at my father—he was a clever man, I’d do well to remember that.

  ‘More tea?’ I lifted the pot and he smiled without saying any more.

  That night there was an air raid. I hurried downstairs and Father was sitting on the edge of his bed looking for his stick. Then I saw his face go grey as he tried to stand.

  ‘We’ll need to get to the shelter, Meryl,’ he said, trying to sound as if he wasn’t in agony.

  ‘Let’s stay here,’ I suggested. ‘I’ll make us tea and we’ll take our chances. Folk in shelters get hurt too.’ I told him what Kate had said about the girl in the shelter who had cried out about her ears and how the ambulance man had called her a ‘poor bugger’.

  So we sat and listened to the bombs fall. We drank tea and we talked and I began to learn a little about my father. And then a bomb fell near, very near, perhaps next door. Father covered me with his body to protect me, his big hands shielding my head. I hugged his body and felt the bond between father and daughter for the first time in my life and I knew I didn’t want my father to die.

  I drew him from the bed, felt him wince as his bad leg touched the floor and then I was drawing him underneath the table and we clung there together while the walls shuddered, plaster fell from the ceiling and the air raid railed around us like a thunderstorm. I looked up and touched his now-shaven face. ‘I love you, Daddy,’ I said softly, and we both knew I meant it.

  Twenty-Two

  Kate sat with Stephen in the garden of Victoria Park. He held her hand and she didn’t mind. Now he treated her like a lady, he made no crude remarks, he was gentle and kind and he made her feel good again.

  ‘Tell me what it looks like, Steve,’ she said, ‘Are the leaves turning red and fluttering to the ground? Is it pretty?’

  ‘Not half as pretty as you.’ Stephen kissed her hand. ‘You look lovely, Kate, the sun brings red lights out in your dark hair and your skin is so white, so delicate. You’re a true Irish beauty.’

  ‘And you’ve kissed the Blarney stone,’ Kate said with a smile. She knew she’d put on weight, she could feel with her finger tips that her waist was thicker. She could feel the scar along her jaw line and despaired. What she couldn’t see was the bloom she had, a softness that appealed so much to the protective instinct in Stephen as he sat looking at her.

  ‘Kate,’ he said softly, ‘I wanted to ask you, will you marry me?’

  She felt a stab of pain. The only man she wanted as a husband was her dear Eddie but he was lost to her for ever.

  ‘You were my first… woman,’ he said.

  ‘You can’t say ‘love’ can you, Stephen?’

  ‘Yes I can, Kate, now I can. Back when we first met I was too young and foolish to think of love, I knew nothing about life or love or death or pain. I do now, Kate. And, Kate, I’ve fallen in love with you, your gentle ways, your beautiful face.’ He laughed. ‘I can’t deny I find you attractive—I want to lay you down and make love to you, my darling.’

  She was flattered, of course she was, but then weren’t they two wounded people reaching for comfort just as Stephen had reached for comfort when he’d taken her virginity?

  ‘Can I think about it, Stephen?’ she asked. ‘Will you have to go back to the war? That is an important question, Stephen.’

  ‘I will sit at a desk for the duration of the hostilities,’ he said, ‘I’m no longer up to the very high standard required of a pilot so you see you wouldn’t be getting a hero.’

  Kate knew he’d been decorated for bravery, he was modest, gentle, kind and he would look after her. ‘It’s only just eight months ago that Eddie went missing,’ she said, ‘what if he came back?’

  ‘I’d let you go to him if that’s what you wanted but I hope you would’ve fallen in love with me and want to stay with me, of course I do.’

  She got up from the bench wondering how so much had happened to her since the first raids on Swansea in 1941. She had been with many pilots and, as the months of the war went on into years, she’d lost her reputation, her ‘good name’. Men laughed about her, talked about her and she was an object of pity and scorn.

  And then she’d met Eddie, who’d loved her, against all the odds, against the taunts of his friends, who told him in graphic detail how they’d ‘had her’. She’d lost her family, found Eddie’s mother, shared her grief when Eddie was lost. She’d been blown up by her country’s own weapons of defence, lost her sight. She had settled down now to a civilian life, queuing for food, accepted now by the women for the only men around were old or war wounded and she was no threat to anyone with her blind eyes.

  ‘I’ll think about it, Stephen,’ she said gently but she knew she wouldn’t. Her poor stomach was scarred, her belly hung around her like a huge grotesque belt, she could feel it hard and shiny and criss-crossed with wheals and lines. She was fat, hideous, t
hough in her loose clothing Stephen couldn’t see any of that, he saw only her face, remembered the young taut-muscled girl she’d once been.

  ‘Take me back home, Stephen, there’s a love.’ She slipped her arm through his, at least she could treat him as a friend, he was humbled now by his experiences, he’d become a man, more sensitive than the callow boy he’d been. The war had changed them all.

  Several weeks passed and Kate still hadn’t given Stephen an answer. To his credit he didn’t press her and for that she was grateful. As she drank her cocoa with Hilda one night, she began to feel an ache in her stomach. She winced and Hilda was at her side in a moment. ‘What is it, girl?’

  ‘Just a twinge in my belly—as you said, things settling down inside me after the explosion.’

  Kate went to bed, perhaps she would feel better if she lay down. It was chilly in the bedroom and she wished there was enough coal to light the fire. She shivered as the pain squeezed her belly. It became worse as the night hours wore on and Kate thought she was going to die.

  Hilda heard her moans and came into the bedroom and put on the gas light.

  ‘It hurts so much, Hilda, I think I’m going to die.’ She clutched her belly and writhed as the pain curled around her; the bones in her back felt as if they were being torn apart. ‘I feel as if my insides were going to fall out so I do.’

  ‘Here, let me take a look for God’s sake.’ Without worrying about dignity Hilda pushed up Kate’s nightgown and felt her taut belly.

  ‘God almighty!’ she said, ‘you’re about to give birth, your waters have just broke.’

  Kate felt sick and then happy and then—terrified. ‘A baby, how can that be? The explosion, my scars, could a baby survive all that? It can’t be a baby, Hilda.’

  ‘Listen, girl, I’ve had four myself and lost all of them. It will be an hour, perhaps two, but by morning there will be another addition to my family.’ She sighed. ‘Our Eddie’s baby.’

  Kate was grateful to Hilda for not questioning the paternity but then Hilda knew more than most what a hermit Kate had been since Eddie had gone missing.