The Guest Who Stayed

by Roger Penfound

  “No, it’s alright. I’ve talked to Samuel about that. He says it’ll all be different after the war. In Mississippi, where he comes from, Samuel says there’s going to be good jobs and houses for the returning heroes. And there’s lots of girls going from here, Evie. They’re organising special GI bride ships to take us. I’m so excited.”

  Emma’s announcement and imminent departure caused Evie to feel even more isolated. With American forces beginning to withdraw from their bases and return home, this corner of England that for a short period had seemed like a part of the United States, now began to return to its sleepy pre war ways. Gone were the swing bands, the raucous accents and the droning overhead of giant bombers – echoes now of a seemingly wild intrusion into the unhurried lives of this rural community.

  When the end of the war in the Far East was announced on September 2nd, Evie stayed away from the giant street party being held in the market square. Instead, she walked the same route that she and Peter had taken the day before he had been posted to Singapore. She thought about their conversations, about their laughter and about the future they might have built together had Peter been joining the thousands of prisoners of war now starting on their long journey back home to the UK. Standing at the same place where she and Peter had kissed, she wished that she too could somehow die and put an end to the pointlessness of her life.

  In mid October, Evie was told that her job at Oulton airbase would be finishing soon. Most Americans had left and RAF flights had been curtailed. It was planned to close the base within months. Sensing her loss of direction, Jed persuaded Evie to come and work for him at the construction company. Flora wanted to spend as much time as she could with Emma before she departed for America and so was more than happy to teach Evie the complexities of running the company.

  Evie settled in well to the new job, quickly taking on additional site responsibilities and earning respect from the men who worked for Jed. She felt more at home in overalls and boots than she did wearing her pencil skirt and blouse on the airbase. At home, they were once again reduced to three as Jack’s nurse had left for better paid work in Frampton.

  The Christmas of 1945 at Hope Cottage was strangely quiet, as if it had somehow missed out on the tumultuous years that had reshaped the rest of the world. Jed and Jack spent time in the kitchen preparing the Christmas dinner. Their friendship in recent years had become close, with past animosities being set aside. Jack was no longer able to leave the house so Jed spent time with him talking or playing cards.

  Evie slowly resigned herself to the new reality. She tried to dull down her expectations and accept what fate had delivered to her. If she lived each day as it came, not planning or thinking ahead, she found that she could cope.

  After Christmas dinner, Jack, Jed and Evie turned on the radio to listen to the King’s speech. In his clipped voice, he spoke about unity and family.

  Wherever you are, serving in our wide, free Commonwealth of Nations, you will always feel at home. Though severed by the long sea miles of distance, you are still in the family circle.

  As Jed and Jack dozed by the fire, Evie sat in the gathering gloom, silently sipping tea and wondering if she would ever be part of a family circle of her own.

  Suddenly, a bell sounded from the hall. Evie nearly spilt her tea from shock before realising that it was the sound of their new phone ringing. Because Jed’s work was considered essential to the war effort, he had been allocated a shared party line though it had only been installed weeks before after nearly two years of waiting.

  “It’s the phone,” announced Jed, suddenly roused from his sleep. “Who’d be calling now? There’s nobody working today.”

  “Hadn’t you better answer it and find out then?” suggested Evie.

  Jed went into the hall and picked up the receiver. “Hello. Mr. Carter speaking.”

  “Jed, is that you?” asked an anxious voice he recognised as that of the post mistress.

  “What are you doing working today, Margaret? It’s Christmas Day.”

  “Jed, we’ve had an urgent call. Someone wants to talk to Jack. Shall I put them on?”

  “Who is it? Jack’s asleep.”

  “It’s somebody from the Air Ministry. Captain somebody. Sounds very posh.”

  “You’d better put him on to me then,” suggested Jed. There was a pause and the sound of ‘clicks’ as a new connection was established. Jed couldn’t understand why the Air Ministry would be calling Jack, especially on Christmas Day. Then it struck him. Perhaps they had found Peter’s body or his grave and they wanted to let the family know.

  Another click was followed by the hollow sound of a new line. “Hello, who am I speaking to?” asked the cultured sounding voice at the other end.

  “I’m Mr. Jed Carter, a friend of Mr. Malikov.” replied Jed in his formal ‘telephone answering voice’. “Mr. Malikov lives with us but he’s not very well and has difficulty getting to the phone. Can I help?”

  “I suppose so. I’m Captain Johnson, acting head of POW repatriation at the Air Ministry. It’s about Mr. Malikov’s nephew, Flying Officer Peter Malikov. He’s been found alive.”

  Evie heard a gasp followed by a deep groan coming from the hall. She rushed to see what the problem was and found Jed bent over clutching at his chest.

  “Daddy, Daddy. What’s the matter?”

  “Mr. Carter, are you there? Is everything alright?” came an anxious voice from the receiver.

  Evie grabbed the phone from Jed. “I’m Mr. Carter’s daughter. He’s been taken ill. Tell me why you’re calling.”

  “It’s Peter Malikov, Flying Officer Peter Malikov. He’s been found alive. It seems that when he was shot down in the sea off Singapore, he managed to swim ashore and hide. But he was caught by a group of collaborators who kept him in an unofficial camp deep in the Malayan jungle. He was never reported to the Red Cross so we assumed he was dead. Anyway, at the end of September they were released and it took them nearly eight weeks to find their way out of the jungle.”

  By now, Evie too had crumpled to the floor and was sobbing uncontrollably. Jed regained his composure and took control of the remaining conversation. It seemed that Peter was now back in Singapore recuperating. He would begin his return journey to the UK next week via the United States. The last leg of his journey would be by ship from New York. He was expected home in approximately six weeks but the Ministry would call again as soon as his passage had been confirmed.

  After the phone call, Jed and Evie sat on the hall floor clutching each other. Although Jed had said nothing to Evie, he had realised the closeness of their relationship and held her tightly now as she gasped and sobbed with emotion. Once they had both recovered, they had to break the news to Jack, taking care that the shock didn’t bring on one of his bronchial attacks.

  In the days after Christmas, Evie felt that she was living in a dream. She fluctuated from wild elation to inexplicable crying. The news had created a strange vacuum, the knowledge that Peter was alive yet nothing at the moment confirmed this – not even a word from him. On 2nd January, a letter arrived from the Air Ministry confirming the news and providing more detail. Addressed to Jack, it informed him that Peter was physically unharmed though had been subject to psychological mistreatment. It explained that POWs returning from camps in the Far East were receiving rest and support before embarking on the long journey home. An arrival date would be sent as soon as it was known.

  On 6th January a telegraph arrived. It was from Peter and was short.

  I am alive. Will be back in five weeks. Peter.

  Evie began to wonder what it would be like when she met Peter again. Would the war have changed him very much? Stories were now rife in the press about terrible conditions in the Japanese POW camps and about inhumane treatment. She began to wonder if her memories of their short time together were perhaps inaccurate. Maybe she had built it up in her mind to be bigger than it really was.

  Emma left for America at the end of January. Evie j
oined a small group at Frampton station saying goodbye to three local girls, all to be GI brides. They were due to travel to Liverpool and board a specially chartered ship that would take them to New York from where they would disperse to their new homes and new lives. Flora tried to hold back her tears but there was an unmistakable atmosphere of sadness and loss. Emma told her that she would soon be able to visit them in their new home in Mississippi but everyone knew that this was most unlikely. This was possibly the last time that any of them would see her.

  A few days after Emma’s departure, another letter arrived from the Air Ministry. It stated that Peter was expected to dock at Southampton early on the morning of February 16th aboard the liner, Queen Mary.

  Jed immediately agreed that he and Evie would drive down to Southampton overnight to be there when the ship arrived. Evie spent the next fortnight working all her spare hours to prepare the house for Peter’s return. She made a banner to hang outside the front door proclaiming ‘Welcome home Peter – Our hero’. She also acquired over a dozen Union Jacks which she planned to hang out of windows and tie to the branches of trees.

  As dusk was falling on the evening of 15th, Jed and Evie set off on the long journey to Southampton. They had both slept during the preceding day and hoped this would be sufficient to keep them awake through the night and the day to come. They arrived in Southampton at six in the morning. It was still dark and a heavy frost cloaked the ground in white. They found their way to the docks and parked the car on a cleared bomb site close to the Ocean Terminal. Small groups of people were making their way to the quay, wrapped in heavy coats and scarves. Evie was taken aback to see a long line of ambulances parked by the dock gates. The line extended as far as she could see. It occurred to her for the first time that many of those returning would be wounded and damaged in different ways. As they reached the dock gates, the crowd thickened and slowed as sentries checked their passes. Evie studied the faces of people in the crowd. There were elderly couples, possibly parents, supporting each other as they came to greet a son they hadn’t seen in four or five years. Their faces looked anxious and drawn. There were mothers with young children coming to greet a father they probably couldn’t remember. And there were young women, anxiously touching their hair or adjusting their clothing, coming to meet a sweetheart who had been a cherished memory for so many dark years. How would these lives be changed when their loved ones walked down the gang plank? How long would the joy of reunion last before the realities of adjusting to life in post war Britain took their toll?

  As they reached the dock side, they were held back from the water’s edge by barriers. Peering into the gloom that was Southampton Water, Evie could see nothing as a heavy mist hung over the sea. The sound of marching boots drew her attention and she watched as a marine band passed by to take up position on a raised platform. As dawn slowly broke, she noticed for the first time that Union Jacks hung limply from dock buildings and warehouses.

  Somewhere out in the mist which still clung to the water, a deep blast from a ship’s horn resonated across the dock. A ripple of expectation passed through the crowd. Evie noticed the band begin to take their instruments from their cases.

  Above them, the sky was brightening to reveal a clear day but still the sea mist hung persistently over the water, obscuring their view. Then the blasts from the ship’s horn came again, this time much closer. Three short sharp blasts. People began to cheer and clap, peering into the gloom for some sign of activity. Suddenly, the sun lifted above the horizon and bathed the terminal in light. Almost immediately, the sea mist lifted with a theatrical flourish to reveal the majestic form of the Queen Mary, not fifty yards from the dock side. Painted in war time grey, the great liner towered above the buildings lining the quay. A rousing cheer went up from the crowd as three tugs nudged the liner slowly into her berth. The decks were lined with soldiers, cheering and waving back at the crowds. Some of them were propped up on crutches. Some had bandages wrapped around their heads and others were being held up by comrades. The band struck up ‘Land of Hope and Glory’. The crowd joined in and tears flowed freely down the cheeks of the most hardened faces.

  It took another thirty minutes before the liner was docked and gang planks were lowered. First off the ship were injured stretcher cases, carried by volunteers who took them away to the waiting ambulances. Evie watched with fascination and sadness as stretcher after stretcher bearing an injured soldier was carried down the gang planks. Some of the injured tried to lift themselves up and wave. Others were motionless. Some were simply covered in bandages. Occasionally, a cry would go up from the crowd as a son or a husband or a father was recognised and the crowd parted to let the anxious relations get to them.

  After more than an hour of stretcher cases leaving the ship, the remaining POWs started to disembark. Evie noticed how thin many of them seemed to be. Their coats hung off their shoulders giving a stooped and haunting appearance. Some were smiling but many looked vacant. Waiting relations eagerly threw their arms around some men but others were left looking lost and isolated as they blinked in the cold morning sun trying to make sense of their new situation. It was difficult to tell one man from the next as they disembarked in a long slow line.

  “Is that him, Evie?” asked Jed urgently. “Look, the second gangway along. Just leaving the ship now.”

  Evie strained her eyes to see. A thin man in an RAF greatcoat was on the top of the gangway. He was clutching a kit bag. His hair was cropped short and seemed more grey than black. But the more she looked, the more convinced she was that it was Peter. She pushed her way through the crowd.

  “Peter, is that you? Peter, it’s Evie.”

  The queue seemed to have halted and he remained at the top of the gangway, not looking up.

  “Peter. It’s me, Evie. Hello.” She waved her arms wildly.

  Then he looked up, peering anxiously into the crowd. It was Peter – she was sure. He looked thin and gaunt – different to how she had last seen him.

  “Peter, I’m over here. Over here, Peter.”

  Now their eyes met. She saw the look of relief on his face. He tried to push his way down but others held him back. They looked at each other, Evie waving and Peter looking intently at her. Finally, the disembarkation resumed and he was at the bottom of the gangway. She threw her arms around him and held him tightly. They kissed but it was an awkward kiss. Not like the last time they had kissed. His body felt taught and awkward – devoid of passion. Evie let go and looked into his eyes. They were not the eyes that she had known before – bright, sparkling and full of humour. Now they looked dull, haunted and distant.

  “Peter, it’s so good to have you home. How are you? Have you been treated well?”

  He looked at her uncomprehendingly.

  “I mean, are you injured?”

  He seemed to pull himself together. A smile briefly crossed his lips.

  “I’m alright, Evie. It’s so wonderful to see you.”

  By now, Jed had caught up with them. He clasped Peter and held him.

  “You know Jack can’t be here, Peter. But he’s desperate to see you again.”

  “How is Uncle Jack?”

  “Not so good. The bronchitis has taken a real hold.”

  They made their way through the crowds of returning POWs and relatives to Jed’s car and began the long journey home. Evie sat in the back seat with Peter trying to coax him into conversation. He wouldn’t talk about the war. His eyes went blank if Evie raised the subject. Instead, they talked about mundane things, the winter weather, the amount of traffic on the road and about Jed’s business. It felt so wrong to Evie to be here with her returning hero yet all they could do was make polite conversation.

  After a while, Peter fell into a deep sleep accompanied by occasional grunts and sighs. Evie began to doze too whilst Jed concentrated on the driving. Suddenly, there was a blood curdling scream and Evie felt hands gripping her throat. She tried to scream but no sound could escape. Through bulging eyes she sa
w Peter, his face inches from hers. He was contorted with fear and panic. His eyes stared wildly, not seeing her but seeing some other terrible vision that was locked into his mind.

  Evie felt the car screech to a halt and heard Jed shrieking at Peter.

  “Get off, man! For God’s sake, let go of her. Are you out of your mind?”

  Evie felt another pair of hands round her neck – pulling. Then Peter was off her, sitting panting in the seat beside her. Jed was holding his arms and pinning him to his seat.

  “Peter, what’s the matter? Why did you do that to me?” cried Evie, still clutching her neck. He didn’t reply. He looked straight ahead, breathless and tense. Then suddenly he lowered his head and began to sob – deep, inconsolable tears, expressions of an experience so terrible that he had no words to describe what had happened to him.

  The Guest Who Stayed: Chapter 21 – February 1946

  Life at Hope Cottage was strained and tense in the days following Peter’s return. It was clear that he was no longer the confident and optimistic young man who had set sail for Singapore in 1941. Before, he moved energetically and enthusiastically. Now, he moved slowly and deliberately, his head often bowed. Conversations at meal times were polite but not illuminating. Any attempt to talk about the war was met with a wall of silence.

  Evie found the whole experience very unsettling. For five years she had been nursing the memory of a man she had loved, knowing that he would never return from war. She had allowed her memories to soften and mellow, shutting out anything that deflected from the comfort of those private thoughts. Now she was confronted with a new reality and her private paradise was being shattered. There seemed to be no spark of romantic interest, no endearing words and no close physical contact.

  Each morning after breakfast, Peter would leave the house to walk and not return until early evening. Evie asked him where he went and what he was thinking about but he simply replied,