by Sandy Taylor
‘No, he doesn’t, I want to surprise him.'.
‘Then you’ve come to the right place,’ said Mrs Evans, smiling. ‘Him and the lads come in here every day for their dinner; you can surprise him then.’
‘Perfect,’ said Lottie. ‘You are a darling, Mrs Evans. We’ll be back later then.’
We walked across the road to the duck pond and sat on the bench just like we used to.
‘I never thought I would ever come back here,’ I said. ‘I never thought that I would ever want to, but I’m so glad that we’re here together.’
‘It hasn’t changed a bit, has it?’ said Lottie, looking around.
‘I remember when we all came down here and you and Gerraint went off on your own.’
‘My first kiss,’ said Lottie, sighing dramatically.
‘Really? You never told me that.’
‘Well, I was only fourteen! I’d hardly left a trail of broken hearts behind me.’
‘And no one since?’
‘Well, I had a near miss at a Christmas party in Cornwall. A ghastly boy asked if he could kiss me under the mistletoe.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘I told him I wouldn’t kiss him under a general anaesthetic.’
I started laughing. ‘I bet that didn’t go down well.’
‘No, it didn’t – he told me he only asked because he felt sorry for me and I told him he smelled of gone-off trout. My mother thought it was hilarious when I told her.’
‘So, Gerraint’s the boy for you?’
‘From the moment we met, actually, not a doubt in my mind. He became my best friend once you had gone away. We like the same things, Nell. We both want to see the world, maybe even live abroad for a while.’
‘And get married?’
‘Not high on the agenda. I have always thought marriage was a bit overrated. My parents aren’t married, you know.’
I was a bit stunned – I just presumed that if you lived together and you had a child then you would be married.
‘I’ve shocked you, Nell.’
‘I suppose you have a bit, but not in a bad way. I’ve just never come across it before.’
‘My parents view the whole love, honour and obey thing as rather bourgeois.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Well, it’s a French word meaning middle class, small-minded; trying too bloody hard to fit in. My parents have never done the fitting-in bit very well.’
I grinned. ‘I think your parents are perfect.’
‘I can’t wait for you to meet my father. I respect him so much, Nell. He was called some terrible names when he refused to fight in the war – we even had a white feather posted through our door.’
‘A white feather?’ I said.
‘It’s a symbol of cowardice. But my father’s not a coward, he’s a pacifist, and he wasn’t afraid to stand up for his beliefs.’
‘And that’s really brave, braver than the idiots who put a white feather through your door.’
Lottie put her arm around me. ‘I love you as much as I love Gerraint, Nell.’
‘That’s a lovely thing to say.’
‘It’s true.’
‘And do children figure in this great romance of yours, Lottie? Only you didn’t seem terribly interested in baby Olivia.’
‘My mother once told me that children are like farts: you can only tolerate your own. So we might do the whole baby bit, but only after we’ve seen the world.’
We sat side by side on the bench until Mrs Evans waved to us from across the road.
‘They’ll be here soon, girls,’ she said as we got close.
We followed her into the bakery. She lifted up the counter flap and ushered us through. ‘You can hide in my sitting room until they come in, and mind you stay as quiet as two little mice, my lovelies.’
We wandered around the little room, looking at all Mrs Evans’s ornaments and family photographs.
‘Oh, do look at this, Nell,’ said Lottie, smiling. ‘They were really quite handsome, weren’t they?’
I picked up the framed photograph of Mr and Mrs Evans on their wedding day. ‘Mrs Evans looks absolutely petrified,’ I said.
‘That’s exactly how I’d look, Nell.’
‘Oh, Lottie,’ I said. ‘Do you really not want the white dress and the bridesmaids and the yummy cake?’
‘I can buy a cake anytime I want.’
‘Shush!’ I whispered. ‘I hear boys.’
‘Oh my God, Nell!’ said Lottie. ‘I feel quite ill.’
She was as white as a sheet.
‘Are you going to be sick?’
‘I sincerely hope not.’
Just then Mrs Evans put her head round the door. ‘Gerraint’s here,’ she whispered.
‘Are you sure you feel okay?’ I asked.
Lottie took some deep breaths and nodded. ‘As okay as I’m ever going to be. Let’s do this, Nell.’
‘Good girl,’ I said, and we went into the café.
Chapter Forty-Nine
As soon as the boys saw us they started yelling our names, but not Gerraint. He just stared at Lottie as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He walked around the table and took her in his arms and that’s how they stayed, with their arms around each other, as if they were the only two people in the room. The boys had stopped making a noise – there was no silly cheering or whistling, just smiles. Lottie looked at me over Gerraint’s shoulder. She looked so happy – she was where she wanted to be, they both were.
After a while they sat down with the rest of us and Gerraint gave me a big hug. ‘It’s good to see you, Nell,’ he said. ‘Thank you for bringing my girl back to me.’
‘Oh, I didn’t bring her back, she brought herself. I just tagged along for the ride.’
‘The ride?’
‘Your clever Lottie drove us here in her car.’
‘You can drive a car?’ he said, smiling at Lottie.
‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘Do you want to go for a spin?’
‘Can I come too?’ said Daffyd.
‘Haven’t you got to get back to work?’ said Glyn.
Daffyd groaned. ‘Spoilsport,’ he said, making a ‘poor me’ face. ‘It’s all right for Gerraint, he works for his father.’
‘It has its advantages,’ said Gerraint, grinning.
Mrs Evans came across with a tray full of pasties. ‘Tuck in,’ she said.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Lottie. ‘You have your dinner and me and Nell will walk back to the vicarage and get the car.’
‘Gerraint is even more handsome than I remembered,’ said Lottie, as we walked back up the lane.
‘I’m so happy for you,’ I said.
She stopped walking and said, ‘Now, what about you? What do you want to do?’
I knew exactly what I wanted to do. ‘I want to go back to the farm,’ I said.
‘Consider it done,’ said Lottie, reaching for my hand. ‘We can ask around and see if anyone knows anything about your Jimmy.’
* * *
We stopped at Tyford, the little village where I used to walk with Jimmy to post my letters to Mum. I looked across at the old stone bridge where we used to sit on those warm spring evenings, getting to know each other.
‘Let’s try the pub,’ said Gerraint. ‘My guess is that most of the local gossip will go on in there.’
It was dark inside but we could see a few men standing at the bar. They looked up and stared at us as we went in. Gerraint ordered three glasses of lemonade, then spoke to the barman.
‘We’re looking for a lad called Jimmy who lived at Hackers farm,’ he said. ‘Did you know him?’
‘Sorry,’ said the barman, shaking his head. ‘I can’t say I do. Lived with the Hackers, you say?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘he was an evacuee.’
‘He’ll have gone home by now, won’t he? That farm’s been sold. Although why anyone would be daft enough to buy it, I don’t know. The place is falling down.’
‘You looking for Jimmy?’ said a man sitting in the corner.
I turned to face him. ‘Do you know him?’
‘I knew of him,’ he said.
‘Do you know where he is?’
The man took a long swallow of beer. ‘Last I heard he’d buggered off to London and good luck to him, I say. I’d have done the same if I’d lived with the Hackers.’
I felt sick to my stomach. ‘Thanks anyway,’ I said.
We left our drinks and went back outside.
‘I’m sorry, Nell,’ said Lottie.
‘I didn’t really expect him to be here but I had hoped he would have stayed in Wales,’ I said.
She put her arm around me. ‘Do you want to go home?’
‘Do you mind if we still go to the farm?’
‘Whatever you want to do, darling.’
Lottie stopped the car at the top of the hill and we all got out.
‘You want to be alone, don’t you?’ she said.
‘I think I do, yes.’
‘Gerraint and I will go for a walk and meet you back here in about an hour. Will that be long enough?’
I nodded and watched them walk away hand in hand. I almost envied what they had and wondered if one day I would find that kind of love.
I stood on the top of the hill and looked down on the farm. I had good memories and bad memories of the place but I didn’t feel scared. It was where I’d met Jimmy, so for every bad memory there was also a good one.
I walked down the hill and into the yard. Someone had been tidying up; it wasn’t the mess that I remembered. I walked towards the house. The windows were sparkling clean so that I could actually see inside. All the furniture was still there: the wooden table, which looked as if it had been scrubbed clean, and the threadbare chairs on either side of the fireplace. All exactly the same.
I walked across to the barn and pushed open the door – I needed to rid myself of the image of Albert lying there as still as death. I spun around as I heard a movement, then laughed as I realised the noise was coming from two cows lying down in the stalls. Maybe the new owners had already moved in. I went back to the house and knocked on the door but there was no answer.
Next, I walked across the yard. The pigs were still snuffling around in their pens and when I looked up at the field I could see the rest of the cows. I screwed up my eyes against the sun and saw a figure up there.
It could be anyone, couldn’t it? It could be the new owners. But something made me start running, through the gate and up onto the field.
‘Jimmy!’ I yelled as I got closer. ‘Jimmy!’
He turned at the sound of my voice and started to run towards me. ‘Nell!’ he screamed.
I threw myself at him, almost knocking him off his feet. I was laughing and crying.
He held me away from him. ‘I can’t believe it’s really you,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe you came back.’
We started talking at the same time, barely taking a breath.
‘They said you were in London.’
‘I went looking for you but the place you told me you lived in had been bombed. I didn’t even know if you were still alive.’
‘We went to Eastbourne in Sussex.’
‘You didn’t kill Albert, Nell.’
‘I know. But why didn’t you meet us in the barn?’
‘Because Albert wasn’t dead – he wasn’t dead, Nell. I had to get help and I had to blackmail him into not telling old Ma Hacker what you’d done to him. If she knew, she would have got the police onto you.’
‘Why didn’t you come after that?’
‘It was too late, Nell. You were gone, I couldn’t find you. I tried, Nell, I really tried.’
‘Why are you still here, Jimmy?’
‘I promised the new owner I’d stay on to look after the animals until he took over the farm.’
‘And what are you going to do after that?’
‘I’m going to get married,’ he said, grinning. He kissed my cheek. ‘I can’t believe it’s really you, Nell.’ Then he walked away – just like that he walked away, down the field towards the house.
My cheeks were burning with embarrassment; I couldn’t believe what had just happened. He’d looked as happy as I was but he’d walked away from me and, worse than that, he’d said he was getting married: he didn’t love me at all. I’d waited so long for this moment, I’d dreamt about how it would be if I ever saw him again. But he loved someone else: my Jimmy was going to marry someone else.
With tears rolling down my cheeks I started back up the hill. I was running away again and I knew this time I would never come back. Then I heard him calling my name, but I kept running; I didn’t want to face him. He caught up with me and spun me round.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Away from this place,’ I said. ‘And away from you.’
‘But why, Nell? Tell me why!’
‘Because I love you, Jimmy, and you are going to get married.’
He held my face in his hands. ‘To you, Nell. If you’ll have me, I’m going to get married to you.’
‘But you walked away from me.’
‘To get this,’ he said, and he handed me a tin. I opened it up and inside was the locket and the little blue brooch.
He gently lifted the hair from the back of my neck and secured the clasp. ‘Will you, Nell? Will you marry me?’
I didn’t answer – I didn’t have to. I just held him close and on that windy hillside I knew that this was a forever love that would last for the rest of our lives. And I couldn’t wait for the journey to begin, the journey that would carry me home.
Epilogue
I put the last of the dishes on the drainer to dry, wiped my hands on the towel and wandered over to the window. The farm was on the southern side of the Downs, the house built in a cleft between two hills, the back enclosed by a copse of tall old trees that protected it from the wind. From the window, I could see the glisten of sunlight on the sea in the distance, its blue haze merging into the sky so there was no horizon.
Closer than the blues were the greens of the fields, the grass growing now that May had arrived, the meadows full of wildflowers that helped feed our small herd of dairy cows. Jimmy was out there somewhere, checking the stock, seeing which had calved overnight and making sure that all was well with mother and baby. It was hard work, but it was his dream that had become our dream, and we loved it. Sometimes I had to smile to myself: who’d have thought it? Me, a girl from the East End, ending up here, a farmer’s wife on the Sussex Downs!
I leaned my elbows on the window ledge and cupped my chin in my hands.
Closer still was the farm garden, a lawn surrounded by an ancient hedge woven through with brambles. Gnarled apple trees were in blossom and birds were nesting in the hedges; house martins darting in the sky above.
Our two precious boys, Ronan and David, were playing amongst the trees, seven-year-old David hanging off the branches, swinging, and his five-year-old brother on his hands and knees pushing a wooden tractor through the grass. Ronan saw me at the window and grinned, a gap in his teeth – his smile that reminded me so much of Olive’s smile at his age.
Olive… my darling Olive. We had experienced something amazing, her and I. A journey that had made us stronger and braver, a journey that had made us who we were today. We shared memories that were ours alone. We didn’t talk about them much but there were times when something would take us back and we remembered.
* * *
We sold Yann’s cottage, which enabled Jimmy and me to purchase our farm and Olive and Aggie to buy a shop in Kemp Town that they turned into a tea rooms. They called their shop ‘Auntie Missus’.
I walked across to the dresser and took down the framed photograph of her and Aggie outside their shop. They were smiling into the camera, Aggie with her arm around Olive’s shoulder. When Olive was a little girl and she’d said that one day she and Aggie would live together I had put it down to childish talk; I’d never realised that
the promise they made to each other all those years ago would be a promise that would last forever. Theirs was a different kind of beautiful and I was so proud of them both.
Lottie’s dream of travelling the world with Gerraint had been halted by the arrival of their twin girls, Kitty and Selena, who they adored. Now their two little ones had become the only world they needed. And yes, one summer evening Lottie and I had eaten fish and chips sitting on the pebbles, and then hand in hand we’d stood together at the edge of the ocean, just as she had promised we would.
We lost dear Miss Timony three years ago. We were all heartbroken. I missed her wisdom and her patience, the way she never preached, just guided you to a place where you could think more clearly. She had touched us all in different ways and for a while our worlds were less bright. Mrs Baxter never returned to Bermondsey, she stayed with her sister in Eastbourne and they ran ‘Sea View’ together.
Tony fulfilled his dream of becoming a chef and was working in a prestigious hotel in London, and Freddie had passed the exam for the grammar school; it turned out that he was the clever one in the family.
Dad got stronger and Mum said that his beloved grandchildren had given him a new lease of life. They both adored them.
Jean sailed across an ocean to meet Eric’s parents. She fell in love with Canada and only came home to say goodbye to us all. It was sad to lose her but she was so happy that I could only be pleased for her.
Mr Costos and Mr Philip continued to run the hotel and Jimmy and I often visited them.
Mrs Ryan wrote to let me know that my dear friend Angela never came home at all. She died in a hospital far from everything she knew and loved. She survived the war, but not the blood poisoning that took her life. I was heartbroken to lose my dear friend from those childhood days, when Bermondsey had been our whole world and a bombed-out house our playground. I keep the little pink shell she gave me on my bedside table and I say a prayer for her every night before I go to sleep.
