The Guest Who Stayed

by Roger Penfound

  “And what does matter?”

  “People matter. You matter, Evie.” He took her in his arms and kissed her, pulling her body close to his.

  “This is happening so fast, Peter. I’m confused.”

  “It must happen fast, Evie. I’ve only got two days. I’ve got to report back to Coltishall on Sunday. I’m being posted abroad.”

  “Why, where are you going?” asked Evie anxiously. “I thought you were needed to defend Britain.”

  “They reckon the threat of an invasion’s gone now. Hitler failed to get control of the skies so an invasion is too dangerous. The war’s taking place on lots of different fronts, Evie. They’re sending me to Singapore.”

  That night, they dined quietly at Hope Cottage. The celebration they had all anticipated to welcome Peter home was overshadowed by the news of his imminent departure. After the meal, Peter and Evie walked in the receding light of the setting sun, down Duck Lane and into the pastures beyond. It was a quiet evening save for the gentle lowing of cattle in the distance. The harvest had been gathered and the countryside looked verdant in the orange glow cast by the last of the sun’s rays. They stopped by a large oak tree and kissed again, this time longer and with passion.

  “Do you want to make love to me, Peter?” asked Evie, looking hesitantly into his eyes. “I mean, with you going away and not knowing what’s in store. I just didn’t want you to feel that you couldn’t ask.”

  Peter looked at her without smiling and ran his hand through the wisps of auburn hair that hung over her face.

  “I do want to make love to you, Evie, but I’m not going to. I do want to very much but if I die you will have a different future and I won’t be part of it. I don’t want you to allow me into your life now and then have to find ways of cutting me out again later. If I return, Evie, I will seek you out and pursue you relentlessly. But if I don’t return you must be free to pursue another life.”

  Peter was due to return to Coltishall the next afternoon. In the morning, he and Evie took a final walk together out towards Offa’s Mount. From the top of the escarpment, they gazed in silence at the green pastures bathed in warm sunlight that were spread out below.

  “This is how I want to remember England, Evie, and this is how I want to remember you – just you and me, alone together, looking down on this piece of England.”

  They promised to write when they could but both understood that they might be apart for a long time. After he had gone, Evie felt a great void developing inside her and a simmering anger that her life was once more outside of her control.

  Peter sent a letter before he departed for Singapore in September and then again when he arrived in early January 1942 having spent weeks waiting in Gibraltar for a passage. Evie detected a note of reticence and caution in his words, maybe mindful of the fact that letters were heavily censored.

  I arrived at Kallang airport on Tuesday where I joined 232 Squadron. There are 42 of us new recruits. The island seems to be full of Australians and Indians as well as Brits. An invasion by the Japaneses is expected soon. Malaysia has already fallen to them and large numbers of British soldiers taken prisoner.

  I’ll try to write again soon.

  All my love,

  Peter

  Again Evie spent much of her time listening to the radio in the parlour as news of the Japanese invasion of Malaya was relayed back home.

  Yesterday, 31st January, Allied forces in the Far East were forced to hand over control of Malaya to the Imperial Japanese Army. As a final act of defiance, the causeway linking Malaya with Singapore was blown up by British engineers.

  In early February came the news that Evie dreaded.

  Reports from Singapore suggest that the Japanese invasion of the island has begun. A first wave of 4,000 troops landed in the Australian sector at first light yesterday. Their advance is being fiercely resisted by heroic action from Allied airmen who are attacking Japanese lines around the clock.

  Throughout February, reports of Japanese advances were broadcast most days. It seemed that the end was inevitable. On February 15th normal programmes were interrupted with the following broadcast:

  It has just been reported that the Allied garrison in Singapore has surrendered to the Imperial Japanese Army. The garrison’s commander, Lieutenant–General Arthur Percival, formally surrendered to the Japanese Commander–in–Chief at a quarter past five local time yesterday.

  Evie was stunned. She hadn’t heard a word from Peter since his arrival in Singapore. She knew there had been heavy losses amongst Allied air crew and it was now clear that many thousands of Allied soldiers would been taken prisoner by the Japanese. She knew there were international rules on the treatment of prisoners of war and hoped that Peter would be placed somewhere safe away from hostilities.

  February 1942 was bleak. It had rained constantly since early January. Jed had to put much of his building work on hold as the ground was too waterlogged to take vehicles. Friday, 27th was particularly bleak. Gales howled inland from the North Sea and rain lashed at the windows of Hope Cottage. Jed returned home at lunch time from the office and sat in the sitting room staring desolately at building plans. He heard the sound of an engine stopping outside and looked to see who had ventured out in this weather. His body froze. A young man in a peaked cap with a brown cape was getting off his motor bike. A khaki bag hung by his side. Jed’s mind immediately flashed back to a similar scene twenty five years ago – a scene that had changed his life.

  The harsh rap at the door jolted him back to the present. He opened the door and looked vacantly at the young courier.

  “Telegram for you, sir,” he said, knowing full well what the contents were. He saluted, turned on his heels and walked quickly back to his bike.

  Jed stared at the damp envelope. It was addressed to Jack Malikov Esquire. He closed the door and walked slowly up the stairs to Jack’s room. Jack was lying on his bed, breathing in long rasping gasps.

  “I’ve got a telegram, Jack. It’s just come. It’s addressed to you.”

  “You open it, Jed. I know what it is. We both know.”

  Jed tore open the envelope and took out the telegram.

  “You read it, Jed. My eyes aren’t so good.”

  “It’s from the Air Ministry.

  Deeply regret to inform that your nephew, Flying Officer Peter Malikov, is reported as missing, presumed dead. His aircraft is believed to have been shot down off the coast of Singapore. The Air Council professes its extreme sympathy.”

  Jed sat on the bed by the side of Jack and held him whilst he wept. Tragedy seemed finally to have brought them to a point of reconciliation that neither could have anticipated in happier times.

  “How do we tell Evie?” Jack whispered. “This’ll destroy her, Jed.”

  The Guest Who Stayed: Chapter 20 – Summer 1942

  After Peter’s reported loss, Evie was plunged into despair. In spite of her relationship with Peter being so short, it had changed her in fundamental ways. She had enjoyed their intimate conversations and the feeling that nothing between them was barred. In their short time together they had discussed everything and nothing. But it wasn’t what they had discussed that mattered. It was the fact that for the first time Evie found the confidence to reveal her own inner thoughts and fears to another person. She hadn’t thought she could ever fall in love with a type like Peter with his affected RAF ways but she knew now that this was wrong.

  After six weeks of reclusive living and much self pity, Evie woke up one morning having buried the hurt deep within herself. She announced to Jed that she would be supporting the war effort from now on and that he would have to employ a nurse for Jack. Her days of tending to his increasingly demanding needs were over.

  Evie had planned to join the WAAF or the ATS but a local advertisement recruiting civilian secretaries for a new airbase not far from Frampton made her decide to explore that option first. She made the journey in Peter’s blue MG. As his executor, Jack had decided that Evie s
hould have the car, a generous act but one which left Evie feeling the loss of Peter every time she ventured out in it.

  RAF Oulton was a small airfield with a grass landing strip. It had been constructed as hostilities began in 1939 and was home to a squadron of Blenheims of Bomber Command. Evie provided secretarial and administrative services to the station’s commander, a quiet but daunting man with a short temper. She was soon fully absorbed in the life of the base and a succession of relationships with airmen followed. But most were short lived. In bombing raids over Germany, losses were heavy and there were many occasions when Evie waited in vain at the airfield for an airman to return, only to find out later that he had been shot down or ditched in the sea.

  The effect on Evie was to make her feel that the old world she had known before the war had disappeared. Now, nothing was as it seemed. What was worthwhile and good one day was a mere memory the next. Life was for living one day at a time. The future and the past became irrelevant.

  In 1943 concrete runways were laid down at RAF Oulton and the US Air Force arrived to share the base. The 803rd Bombardment Squadron was stationed at the airfield. The drone of their massive Flying Fortresses and Liberators became a common sound across the flat Norfolk countryside. The influx of airmen and technicians from across the Atlantic became a great source of interest for Evie and for Emma, who had also secured a job at the base. These American airmen spoke differently, were usually gregarious and outgoing. They chewed gum, swore loudly and dated with fervour. There was a succession of men, each with a different story.

  Rick was from Saskatchewan. He was a navigator. At home he lived on a ranch and rode horses. His family had lived on their piece of land since arriving as settlers in the 1850s.

  “You know, Evie, when I’m out on them prairies, just me and my horse, that’s when I feel truly alive. Galloping full out across them grasslands, whooping and shrieking like the devil himself were behind me. Then at night, I’ll lay me by a stream and stare up at that inky black sky full of sparkling jewels just glinting down at me. And then I know that I know nothing. But you know, it don’t bother me. I just feel so happy being there, being part of something so beautiful and so incredible.”

  Rick died in early 1944 when his Liberator was shot down over Bremen.

  Luke was black. Evie thought him the most handsome man she’d ever met. He was tall and broad shouldered with a deep baritone voice and he would occasionally sing to her – songs from his homeland in Alabama. Evie didn’t understand at first why other airmen seemed to be avoiding her, sniggering when she was in his company or calling out names.

  “It’s different where I come from, Evie. If you’s black then you can’t do the same things as white folks.”

  “What can’t you do?”

  “Well, you can’t sit on a bus with a white person. If you’s black you gotta sit at the back. Front is reserved for white folks. And you can’t stand in the same queue as a white person. They got their own queues and they gets served first.”

  “But why, I don’t understand why? What’s wrong with being black?”

  “White people just don’t think we’re as good as them. They call us monkeys and niggers. But I think it’s goin’ to change with this war. We’re fighting and dying alongside white soldiers. When I go back to my home in Alabama, I just know it’s going to be different. People is goin’ to respect us blacks.”

  Luke was transferred to an infantry regiment in March 1944 and moved to the south of England in preparation for the D–Day landings. Evie never saw or heard from him again.

  Warren was a pilot. He flew the giant B17 Flying Fortress bombers. He reminded Evie of Peter – floppy hair and easy manner. His home was in New England and his father was a banker. Warren had had a good childhood, brought up in a big house in Connecticut and sent to an expensive school. After the war, he would go to college and become a banker like his father. Warren excelled at everything. He was good at baseball. He could drink a pint faster than anyone else and he could make love with consummate skill.

  “How was that, baby, eh? Bet you enjoyed that,” he enquired, after a night in a hotel by the coast. “I read some of that stuff in a book. Really works, eh?”

  He never made the senior echelons of the bank or the pretty whitewashed house in the Hamptons with the stunning wife and the two children and the labrador on the front lawn. He left it too late to eject when his Fortress was shot down over the Channel in December 1943. But due to his efforts, his crew did escape and were taken prisoner.

  Evie developed a hard and impervious personality to cope with these losses. At home, Jed and Jack were increasingly at a loss to know how to handle her mood swings. She would not talk to them for days on end and then suddenly she would reappear, full of enthusiasm and zest for life – until the next airman was shot down. The ‘live in’ nurse often bore the brunt of Evie’s sharp tongue, laced with some of the new American expletives that she had picked up at the airfield.

  In the spring of 1944, it was clear that the war was moving into a new phase. Infantry regiments were moved south and bombing raids across France and Germany were stepped up. Jitterbugging to the sounds of American big bands in aircraft hangars that had been turned into party venues was now a thing of the past.

  On 6th June, 1944 the Allied invasion of Europe began – D–Day, as it was known.

  This is the BBC Home Service. Here is a special bulletin read by John Snagg.

  D–Day has come. Early this morning, the Allies began the assault on the north western face of Hitler’s European Fortress. The first official news came just after half past nine when Supreme Headquarters of the Allied Expeditionary Force issued communiqué no. 1. This said ‘Under the command of General Eisenhower, Allied naval forces, supported by strong air forces, began landing Allied troops from this morning on the north coast of France’.

  There was a palpable tension amongst people in the wet summer and autumn of 1944 as the Allied invasion progressed towards Germany. Victories reported on the radio were greeted with subdued excitement and setbacks with grim resignation. Evie worked long hours at the airbase as saturation bombing of German cities paved the way for Allied advances. Photographic records of the bombing showed whole cities alight like giant infernos. Amongst the air crews and the support staff at the base, the mood was sombre. Everyone realised that a terrible price was being paid by the German civilians caught up in the Armageddon. The bombing reached its peak between February 13th and 15th, 1945 when the city of Dresden was destroyed by Allied carpet bombing.

  Through the spring of 1945 the mood of optimism began to increase as people dared to believe that an end to the war might be in sight. In February and March, Allied forces crossed the Rhine into Germany and Russian forces advanced rapidly from the east. On

  May 7th German forces on the western front finally surrendered unconditionally to Allied commanders.

  Jed, Evie and Jack gathered round the small radio in the parlour to listen to the BBC’s war correspondent, Thomas Cadett, report on the surrender proceedings from Rheims in north eastern France.

  In the small hours of this morning, May 7th, 1945, I saw the formal acknowledgement by Germany’s present leaders of their country’s complete and utter defeat by land, in the air and at sea. The whole ceremony was carried out in a cold and business–like basis. If the sense of drama was there – and it was – it was because we carried it in our own hearts, remembering that this meant liberation, freedom from suffering and spared lives for countless thousands in tortured Europe.

  That night, Evie and Emma joined an ecstatic throng of revellers in Frampton’s market square. Young and old alike celebrated, hardly daring to believe that six years of war and hardship were finally over. An American military band played swing music and couples cavorted energetically late into the night.

  Evie threw herself into the celebrations with exaggerated enthusiasm. Soldiers and airmen queued to kiss her, keen to feel the comfort of a woman again. She drank copiously and e
nded the night with Frank, an airman from Dakota. And that was all she could remember about him.

  When she woke late the next morning, she felt herself in the grip of despair and desolation. Whilst the rest of Britain continued to party, Evie spent the day in bed, crying and nursing the scratches to her arms and thighs that she had somehow acquired the previous night.

  After two days of celebration, Britain slowly recovered from its hangover and work resumed. Evie reported back to the airbase and submerged herself in duties. On her second day back she received a call from Emma.

  “Evie, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent. Can we meet off the base at lunchtime? How about that pub in Carlton? I’ll see you at one.”

  Carlton was a small village with one pub about a mile from the airbase. It was a favourite haunt for air crew. Evie and Emma met in the snug, a small room usually frequented by courting couples.

  “What’s all this urgency, Emma?” demanded Evie.

  “You know I’ve been seeing Samuel for some weeks now. We’ve been getting on really well and he’s asked me to go back to America with him – to get married.”

  Evie had met Samuel a few times. He was a tall black airman who worked as an aircraft mechanic on the base. She had found him a little reserved and hadn’t immediately taken to him.

  “Emma, this is all so fast. You hardly know him. And have you thought about the problems?”

  “What problems? I can’t see any problems. It’s such an opportunity, Evie. You’ve seen what the Americans are like. They’ve got big ideas, big personalities and big ambitions. America’s a place of opportunities. I feel stifled here, Evie, I’ve got to go.”

  “But it’s difficult for black people in America. They’re discriminated against. If you marry a black man the same will happen to you too.”