by Diane Moody
“You’ll have to forgive my husband,” she said.
“Forgive me for what? I’m not going to see you for months, so I’ve got to steal all the kisses I can.”
“Fine, very well, love, but please give me a moment, will you?” She laughed, stretching out her hand to Anya. “I’m Sybil. Sybil Townsend. It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“And when will your lieutenant be heading back to the States?”
Anya glanced at Danny. “We’re not sure, are we?”
“My orders haven’t come through yet. I’m hoping to stay behind and help close down the 390th so I can have more time with Anya.”
“The 390th,” Jack began. “That’s near Framlingham, right?”
“Yes. Not far from Ipswich.”
“I had a buddy back home who was stationed there a couple years ago. His Fort was shot down over Merseburg in ’44.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I’m just thankful you made it through.” Sybil glanced over at Danny. “And you too, Lieutenant.”
“Where were you stationed?” Danny asked.
“Just up the road from you at Bury St. Edmunds with the 94th.”
Sybil’s tone brightened as she changed the subject. “Yes, well, what would you like to know about the palace? Consider me your personal tour guide. I’ve lived here all my life.”
“Did you say it took nine direct hits during the war? It looks undamaged.”
“Quite, but you see, most of the damage happened earlier during the Blitz, the worst of it in September of 1940. A German raider took aim at the palace and dropped five separate bombs, damaging the inner court and the Royal Chapel. Even right here where we’re standing outside the forecourt, a delayed-action bomb left a crater more than ten feet deep and thirty feet wide. It was absolutely appalling.”
Danny whistled. “You’d never know by the looks of it. I have to hand it to the reconstruction crews for repairing all that damage.”
“Were the king and queen here when it happened?” Anya asked.
“Yes, but thankfully, they weren’t injured,” Sybil said. “The next day they were out and about viewing the damage and giving encouragement to the workers who were cleaning up the debris.”
“Tell them what the queen said about the palace being bombed,” Jack prompted.
“She said she was actually glad the Germans bombed the palace because it helped her understand what the rest of London was experiencing. She said it made her feel like she could finally look the East End in the face, or something like that. The East End received a tremendous amount of damage during the war.”
“But why were the king and queen still in residence?” Anya asked. “Why didn’t they evacuate and go somewhere safe?”
“They sent the princesses—Elizabeth and Margaret—to Windsor Castle, but the king and queen insisted on staying; I suppose as a symbol of solidarity with their subjects. Whenever the palace sustained damage, they would both be seen about, taking a look for themselves to see what had happened.”
Danny leaned against the railing. “I also heard they visited bomb shelters to encourage the people who found refuge there?”
“Yes. In fact, a couple of years ago I was trying to get home one day when the sirens went off, so I followed everyone to the nearest Tube station for shelter. The king and queen had been there visiting just moments before the sirens went off. I didn’t get to see them, but everyone there was absolutely delighted by their visit. They said it was immensely inspiring to see the royal couple’s genuine care and concern.
“Oh, but you should have been here when we heard the war had ended!” Sybil continued, her voice filled with excitement. “Thousands of people all around, as far as the eye could see! We’d all heard rumors, of course, and everyone was drawn here to the palace to wait for the announcement. It didn’t come until much, much later. We were beginning to think it was all a hoax until later that evening when Churchill made it official. We were told that the following day, the eighth of May, would be a national holiday—Victory in Europe Day!”
“It must have been so exciting,” Anya said.
“Oh, it was the most glorious moment!” she continued, her hands in constant motion. “The RAF flew victory rolls overhead, and the church bells rang and rang. We were all dancing and laughing and shouting until we were positively hoarse from it all. We kept crying out, ‘We want the king! We want the king!’ We would have stayed all night had it not been for a ridiculous thunderstorm that kicked up just before midnight.
“But the next morning we were all back, then later that afternoon, the king and queen finally came out on that balcony. See it over there? The princesses were there too, then Prime Minister Churchill joined them, and the roar of the crowd was positively magical—”
“Sybil, these nice folks are—”
“Oh Jack, let me finish!” Sybil waved him off and continued, her eyes glistening with joy. “The day went on and no one wanted to leave. We were still so excited! Then later in the evening we looked up and saw the most magnificent sight—two brilliant searchlights coming from St. Paul’s forming a giant ‘V’ for victory in the sky—” She hiccupped a tiny sob and held a fist to her mouth for a moment. “We’d been under blackouts for so many years, you see, so we all just cried and cried—”
“All right, honey,” Jack said, digging a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Dry those tears. I think these folks have heard quite enough.” He tucked his happy weeping wife beneath his arm and tossed them a wink. “Besides, I’m sure they have better things to do.”
“No, please don’t stop on our account,” Anya said.
“Yes, please continue,” Danny added. “Anya and I both missed the big celebrations that day, so it’s a real treat to finally hear about it from someone who was here.”
Sybil laughed, still dabbing her eyes. “Oh, now you’re just being nice.”
“No, it’s true. Besides,” Danny continued, “this is Anya’s first visit to London, so I’m sure she’s enjoying your firsthand account.”
Sybil reached for Anya’s wrist. “I’ve been trying and trying to place your accent, but you see, I’m horrible with such things.”
“I’m from The Netherlands. Utrecht, to be exact.”
“Ah yes, of course that’s it. You’re Dutch. But how do you speak English so well? Were you raised here in England?”
“No, but my father grew up here in England in a tiny fishing village called Port Isaac. We spoke both languages in our home.”
“That explains it, then.” Sybil’s expression grew serious. “Oh, we heard such terrible things about the Occupation in Holland. I’m so very glad you survived. And now look at you—married and starting your happy-ever-after just like Jack and me. But you must tell us how you and your husband met?”
Anya and Danny looked at each other and smiled. “It’s a long story, but we actually knew each other before the war,” Danny began. “We hadn’t met face to face, but we’d corresponded for several years. Then I guess you could say I quite literally dropped in to meet her when my crew had to bail out of our Fort over Holland.”
“Were you shot down?” Jack asked.
“No, but badly damaged by shrapnel and engines on fire. We had no choice but to bail.”
“Oh my goodness! How utterly romantic,” Sybil trilled.
Jack shook his head and patted Sybil’s head. “Sweetheart, somehow I doubt the lieutenant had romance on his mind when he jumped out of his plane. That was quite a harrowing experience. Glad to see you survived.”
“Yes, and thank God for the Dutch Resistance workers who rescued me so the Germans couldn’t take me prisoner. And that’s where I met Anya—at a safe house. She was working with the Resistance—”
“Oh Anya, what a love story! It must have been so exciting—”
“Sybil, pipe down, will you?” Jack laughed, cupping his hand
over her mouth. “Let these nice people have some peace.” He turned to face them. “You’ll have to forgive my wife. She could chat up a tree stump.”
She laughed, pulling his hand away. “That’s not true!”
“No, it’s actually quite nice to meet another war bride,” Anya said, coming to her defense. “That’s what they’re calling us, isn’t it?”
Sybil continued playfully fighting Jack’s attempts to hush her. “Yes, and there are thousands of us. Strength in numbers, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I agree.”
“Well, it’s been nice meeting you,” Danny said, “We don’t want to keep you.”
Jack peeked at his wristwatch then reached for his wife’s hand. “Wow, look at the time, Syb. I’ve got to catch a train back to my base. I’m sure you understand—”
“But wait,” Sybil said. “I have an idea. If you would allow me to see Jack off at the station, perhaps I could meet you somewhere afterwards and show you a few of the sights.”
“We wouldn’t want to impose on you like that,” Anya said.
“No, it wouldn’t be an imposition in the least. I’ll be wretchedly sad once Jack leaves, and this way, you will give me something to do rather than shed rivers of tears.”
“Are you sure?” Danny asked glancing at Jack.
“Don’t look at me.” Jack raked a hand through his hair before putting his cap back on. “Either way, we’ve got to run.” He started pulling Sybil along beside him. She turned, walking backward.
“Wonderful!” she said. “Where shall we meet? At the foot of Big Ben over at Westminster? Take Birdcage Walk here and just follow it until you see the tower. Give me an hour?”
“Perfect,” Danny said. “We’ll see you there.”
“It was nice to meet you fine folks,” Jack said as he finally lassoed his wife with his arm. “Who knows, maybe we’ll see you back in the States someday!”
With a final wave, they hurried away.
6
Danny and Anya took their time strolling hand in hand the short distance to Westminster, thankful for the clear blue sky above them.
“It’s a little strange, don’t you think? Agreeing to spend the day with a complete stranger?” he asked. “Do you think we blew it? We could be no-shows and stand her up.”
“But that would be rude,” Anya said. “It was kind of her to offer.”
“She’s a feisty little thing, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but you used that same description for me not so long ago. And yet, here you are—married to me.”
“True, and I couldn’t be happier.”
“She said it would give her something to do. It must be awful having to separate so soon after getting married.” Anya stopped, her grip tightening on his hand. “I suppose I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but will we have to separate? Will you have to go and send for me later?”
He noted a trace of angst in her voice. “What? How do you mean?”
“When they send you home, will I go with you?”
“I think—”
Sybil suddenly appeared beside them. “Oh, I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I am you’re here!”
Danny uttered a silent prayer of thanks for the interruption as he turned at the sound of Sybil’s voice. He blinked at the sight of her face; a blotchy, pale canvas beneath tracks of tear-smudged makeup.
“I stopped to freshen my face after Jack’s train left, but I’m afraid it didn’t do much good.” She sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a hankie. “And I was so afraid I might not get here in time. Or even worse, that you’d changed your mind after I barged my way in on the first day of your honeymoon. Jack says I’ve never met a stranger, and I suppose he’s right. But I truly hope you haven’t changed your mind. We could give it a go for an hour or so, then go our separate ways when you’ve had enough. If that suits you?”
He and Anya nodded in agreement. “Sounds good. We’re grateful you’re willing to show us around. The only other time I was in London was on leave, and I remember staying lost most of the time.”
“Then I shall do my best to give you the finest tour possible.” She straightened, puffing a cleansing sigh of relief.
Anya patted Sybil’s arm. “When will you be able to join your husband?”
“That’s just it. We don’t know. We have to—”
“So what’s the story behind Big Ben?” Danny blurted, desperate to change the subject. He dreaded the conversation he needed to have with Anya, but hoped they could avoid it until after the honeymoon.
“Oh yes, well then. I should probably begin by telling you that Big Ben is the name of the clock’s great bell, not the clock itself, or even the tower, for that matter. Visitors always get that confused. When the war began, the lights of the clock faces were turned off to confuse the Luftwaffe pilots. The tower roof took a direct hit back in 1940 during the Blitz, damaging those two white hands you see up there, but the clock never stopped ticking through the entire war. Well, except for a few hours the following year when a workman accidentally dropped his hammer into the clock’s works while repairing damage. But that was the only time. Otherwise, the clock kept perfect time for the duration of the war. Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Incredible,” Danny said. “You’d think Hitler would’ve targeted the tower from day one.”
Sybil guided them down the footpath. “Funny you should say that. We always knew London was Hitler’s primary target. And of course, we’re rather proud of the fact that he failed. He tried and tried, right up until the end. But no matter how many times those buzz bombs and doodlebugs struck, and no matter how badly his Luftwaffe damaged segments of our city, we never let him break our spirit.”
She lifted her arms. “Look—I have goose bumps.” She smiled, rubbing them. “I can’t help it. I’m so proud of my country and my city, and how we weathered all those brutal assaults, year after year, and never once let them defeat us.”
“It’s all so different from what I experienced up there.” Danny pointed skyward. “We had a job to do, and we did it. But other than the time I spent in Holland after bailing out, I never saw the effect of our efforts at ground level. You actually lived it here.”
“Yes, and I’m happy to say all the stronger for it.”
They followed her along the walkway. “There isn’t time to show you everything, of course, and it would be wise to avoid certain areas. I’m sure you’ve seen some of the homes and businesses that were leveled. I suppose it will take years for the rubble to be cleared so we can rebuild. We’re all a bit anxious to see signs of reconstruction, but in reality, I’m sure it will take lots and lots of time.”
Sybil continued her narrative as they walked alongside Westminster, the grand buildings along the banks of the Thames which once served as the palace for the royal family, now home to Parliament. She pointed out the empty hull of the Commons Chamber which had been destroyed by fire, its roof collapsing on the ruins. The House of Lords had been spared from any serious damage, though she told of a bomb which had passed clear through the floor, but thankfully never exploded.
Moving along, they crossed the street and approached the rear entrance of Westminster Abbey.
“Someday, when the dust has all cleared, you must come back and take a tour of the Abbey. It’s quite magnificent. Most of the royal weddings have taken place here. King George and Queen Elizabeth were married here in 1923. Of course, the Coronation Chair and all the statues from the royal tombs were sent to the countryside, out of harm’s way. And fortunately, the Abbey experienced only minor damage during the war.”
As they made their way to the front entrance, Anya leaned back for a better look at the ornate spires stretching high against the backdrop of the blue sky. “I can’t comprehend all of this,” she said quietly. “It’s so different from home. The architecture, the height and expanse of all these buildings …” She lowered her eyes to them again. “It’s as if a whole world I never knew about has exis
ted all along, and I’m too late ...”
She gazed intently into Danny’s eyes, but clearly her mind was elsewhere.
“Too late for what, Anya?” he asked.
“Too late to grasp it.” She turned, her eyes drawn back to the spires. “I see it, all of it, but it’s as if my mind and my heart can’t even comprehend what I’m seeing.” She leveled her eyes at them again, a smile taunting her sad expression. “Oh, never mind me. I’m just the silly Dutch girl who keeps babbling every thought that crosses her mind.”
“It must be quite strange for you, Anya,” Sybil said. “But I’m so pleased to share my city with you.”
Danny gathered his wife under his arm and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t let it overwhelm you. Just relax and enjoy the sights, all right?”
She nodded. “All right. I’m trying.”
For the next two hours, Sybil walked them by several historic landmarks. Danny was especially interested in seeing Number 10 Downing Street, home to the British government and residence of Winston Churchill. With its address in brass numerals on the shiny black door, the modest cream-colored entryway stood in contrast to the home’s charcoal gray brick exterior. A uniformed guard stood at the door with his hands clasped behind his back.
“I’m surprised,” Danny said, studying the building. “I would’ve expected something bigger and more elegant. But here it sits in a simple neighborhood.”
“Yes, but inside it’s ever so much larger than it looks. Actually three houses in one, if I remember correctly. More than a hundred rooms, plus a nice garden in the back. I’ve never been inside, but I’ve seen pictures and learned all about it when I was a schoolgirl.”
They passed the Horse Guards palace and Whitehall which housed the secret underground war headquarters, as well as the bunker where Churchill took his famous short naps. She walked them by the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square, telling them its priceless works of art had been moved to a specially designed hidden cave in a Welsh mountain for safekeeping.
