by Annie Groves
‘You bet I will, Mrs Robbins!’
‘And Drew, it’s Mrs Dawson now – but you can call me Olive.’ And they all burst out laughing, especially when he realised her wider girth since the last time he saw her.
‘Oh, gee, Olive, I didn’t realise. I was too—’
‘I know, Drew.’ Olive laughed, and, before he had to leave, Olive told him all about the wedding and the holiday on the farm.
‘Tell Tilly her mother will be in Surrey, most likely,’ said Archie in a voice that brooked no argument, and Olive nodded.
‘Those doodlebugs are terrifying. Tilly will feel better if we’re in the country.’
‘She sure will, especially now she has lost her best friend,’ Drew answered, and Olive’s brow furrowed.
‘It was a case of mistaken identity,’ Drew said. ‘There was a yearly ball at some palace. Tilly and her friend took off their identity tags and she put them into her friend’s bag – it was her friend who was killed … Corporal Janet Fisher … The confusion was made even worse when the cardigan that Janet was wearing had Tilly’s name sewn into the lining. They were so close, they must have shared everything …’
‘Oh, no, poor Janet. She was with us at Christmas … she was Tilly’s best friend.’
‘I know,’ said the Drew, his head bent. ‘Tilly’s going to have a lot to deal with when she comes home.’
Olive was stunned. For a moment, she didn’t know what to do or what to say, and then another knock on the door brought Nancy Black hovering in the hallway.
‘She’s alive, Nancy,’ Olive breathed. ‘She’s alive!’ Olive hugged Nancy, who, up until that moment, had held her own council for once on what she thought and when she released Olive her face was wet with tears.
‘She’s just like my own girl,’ Nancy said. ‘I was stunned to the core when I heard the bad news and now it’s good news. I can’t believe it! I really can’t.’ And with that, she went back out into Article Row and told everyone who passed that Tilly Robbins was alive. As Drew left, Olive was inundated with relieved neighbours, while Archie was busy making jubilant cups of tea for well-wishing neighbours who came to enjoy the good news. And it was only later, when Olive could catch her breath that she found a quiet moment to shed a tear for Janet’s mother, who would be receiving bad news today.
Tilly, recovering from a fractured skull and broken ribs, was told she was to be transferred to the American hospital ship, Quietude, which was sailing via Southampton. From there, she would be transferred to RN Haslar, the naval hospital in Gosport, where she would be cared for by the wonderful Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service. Tilly would arrive on a Tuesday evening in mid-July and she couldn’t wait.
However, her journey of sail was made much more enjoyable by an older nurse, Brigadier Pauline Hall, who had nursed in the very place where Tilly’s father had been received treatment after being injured at Passchendaele.
‘My brave Tommies,’ Brigadier Hall said, with such an air of wistfulness that Tilly had to smile. ‘I loved them, one and all. How is he faring now?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t remember him as well as you can,’ Tilly said without self-pity. ‘I was very young when he succumbed to his injuries.’
‘Ahh,’ said the brigadier, without a hint of patronising remorse, ‘the men may fight and the women may weep …’ And with that she swept out of the ward, leaving Tilly to contemplate the change in the world since her father fought in the army, and how women had been transformed too because of women like the brigadier … And women like her mother: strong, resourceful women who could make something out of practically nothing and even share it with others.
As she lay in the hospital bed, tears ran down her face. She wanted – no, she needed – her mother now. She needed her wise council and her loving strength, remembering when she was a little girl and Mum would come and tuck her into bed at night, and tell her nothing could harm her while she was there to watch over her. Well, Tilly thought, I want her here now.
She needed to tell her it didn’t matter who said what to whom. She didn’t care if Drew’s dad didn’t like her – she wasn’t in love with Drew’s dad. But she was in love with Drew, desperately, strongly, intensely in love with a man who filled her world with joy and who turned grey days bright, and who filled her soul with music! And if she couldn’t have Drew Coleman she would become a nun! That was it: she would lock herself away in a small cell and she would wither and die. Because if she couldn’t be with the two people she loved most in all the world her life wasn’t worth living.
Exhausted after such thoughts, Tilly lay back on the slim pillow she was resting her head on and she knew how close she had come to dying, and that knowledge gave her a greater fear now. If she could come so close, then Drew could too. Her heart flipped and she felt sick at the thought. And her tears soaked her pillow she prayed that Drew would be safe and she was still praying when she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
A short while later, she wondered if she was still dreaming when, opening her eyes after what she thought was a short nap, she imagined Drew staring down at her, whispering soothing words into her hair. But it wasn’t until she felt his strong fingers wrapped around hers that she knew for certain he was truly there, sitting beside her bed and tightly holding her hand.
‘Oh, my word,’ Tilly cried, ‘I was just dreaming about you.’
‘It was a good one, I hope.’ Drew lit up the room with his brightest smile and as she struggled to raise herself Drew gently pushed her back on her pillow. ‘But you rest now, my darling. There is plenty of time to talk later. I told you I’d never let you out of my sight again, and I never will.’
‘But Drew, there is so much to say,’ Tilly cried. ‘I was nearly killed and my best friend Janet is gone. And what about mother? And your father? She must be in bits, they think that I was killed, but I wasn’t—’
‘Hey, take it easy, everything is OK, your mom knows you’re alright. I went ahead and made sure everything was OK and ready. Tilly, we have the whole of our lives ahead of us – I know how this story ends, my darling, and it is a story we will tell our grandchildren.’
‘Our grandchildren?’ Tilly, thrilled to the core, looked at Drew and her heart almost burst with love for him.
‘That’s right. It’s time for us to make that promise come true’.
But Tilly couldn’t answer, she was so full of emotion, that she didn’t trust herself to speak. Over the next few hours, they opened their hearts to each other and shared everything that had happened since they had been parted. Tilly held Drew as if she would never let him go and they stayed like that for a long time,
TWENTY-EIGHT
June 1945
‘Go on,’ said Mrs Darnley, encouraging Agnes to put on the lilac bridesmaid dress that Olive had made. Agnes had been about to put it in the wardrobe, the wonderful day fresh in her memory. She had adored her few days back in Article Row, but was more than glad to be back here on the farm, where she now felt she belonged and she knew that she couldn’t be away too long. It was coming up to harvest time and she worried that she would need all the hours God sent just to bring in this year’s crops.
‘Do you think I should?’ Agnes asked, thrilled that Olive had allowed her to keep the precious lilac dress made of whisper-soft material with a sweetheart neckline. Then, after a few more words of encouragement from the woman who had become like another substitute mother to her, Agnes took off her corduroy trousers and heavy shirt, left by her father, and slipped into the soft folds of heavenly silk. Then, turning, she eyed the back of the dress over her shoulder in the full-length mirror.
‘Oh,’ Mrs Darnley whispered, enraptured, ‘you look so pretty in that dress.’
Agnes blushed to the roots of her fair hair and shook her head – but her admiration of the dress was curtailed when there was a knock on the bedroom door and Mrs Darnley scurried over to answer it.
‘Go away,’ she said, flapping her hand. ‘Miss Weybridge is in
convenienced.’
Agnes laughed, and said, ‘You mean indisposed …’
‘I mean indisposed. She don’t get five minutes to herself around ’ere … Is it urgent?’
‘The man from the … How you say …? Agman.’
‘Oh, the man from the ministry!’ Mrs Darnley said, turning quickly in Agnes’s direction and allowing the door to open enough for Carlo to see inside the room. He turned his back but not too quickly to miss the vision that was Agnes in a beautiful lilac dress.
‘Tell him I’ll be right there, Carlo,’ Agnes said, quickly grabbing her brown corduroy trousers, which now seemed even grubbier and more mud-spattered than they had before. But, she thought, she couldn’t go around a farm wearing such an exquisite gown. It would just have to become part of the fond memories of her day back in London with her other family.
‘I’ll bring a tray of tea things through, shortly,’ Mrs Darnley said, and Agnes thanked her. As everybody had told her, the Ag. man was more to be feared than welcomed. Agnes had been amazed when, as harvest time approached, she was being inundated with help, not only from the local people but also children big and small, who were given time off school to help bring in the harvest.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Mrs Darnley, ‘if it hadn’t have been for you, this farm would have gone to ruin.’
‘But what about the War Ag. man?’ The Ministry of Agriculture stipulated that the farm’s output had to be improved, and she was amazed that Darnley was allowed to get away with such a poor crop as he had last year. Now the Ministry representative was here to check up on her.
‘Darnley had a good yield, all right,’ said Mrs Darnley. ‘Although the conniving buggers only divulged what was barely necessary, he had a good business going here and no mistake. Darnley always said, after your da was taken, mind, that he was too soft tellin’ ’em everything – until the War Ag. man came around, that is, and threatened ’im with gaol if ’e didn’t increase ’is output – that wus when ’e took the money and spent it all in the village pub … In there all day and all night, he was, ’im and ’is sons.’
‘But surely, they are your sons, too?’ Agnes said.
Mrs Darnley shook her head. ‘No, ’e be my husband’s brother, not my ’usband.’ And with that she gave a huge shudder. ‘’E ain’t got noffin’ ter do wi’ me, thank the Lord.’
‘All this time, I thought that he was your husband and they were your sons! Well, he must have made enough to last a good while then,’ said Agnes, ‘because he hasn’t bothered to come back for a job – none of them has.’
‘Well, the young ’un’s gone back to the army after his imaginary injuries cleared up,’ said Mrs Darnley, with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Even ’e can’t stand ter be near he’s old man fer long.’ And with that she let out the most infectious howl of laughter that Agnes had ever heard.
‘Now, you get changed, while I see what everybody’s ’avin’ an’ get some tea on the go.’
‘Will do, Mrs Darnley,’ Agnes said, laughing, too.
After she had changed back into her brown corduroy bib and brace trousers, Agnes was coming down the stairs when she saw Carlo standing below.
‘What is it, Carlo?’ Agnes asked, his worried frown causing her a little concern. ‘Is there something wrong? Is there a problem with the Ag. man?’
‘Agnes, please, this is difficult for me to say, but I must … ’ Agnes was taken aback by Carlo’s serious tone and wondered what on earth could be the matter.
‘You have been a very good friend to me and I am grateful. No, not grateful, more than that. I want to be a good friend to you, too – but how can I say, …?’ he hesitated, twirling a red handkerchief between his hands nervously.
‘It’s OK, Carlo, carry on, I’m listening.’ For some unknown reason, Agnes felt butterflies rising up in her belly and there was something about the way that Carlo was looking at her with his deep, brown eyes that was awakening something else inside of her too.
‘This war will not go on for ever and, after it is all over, these land girls, they will be sent home and you will be on your own. You need someone to help you. Not just after, but for the rest of your life. I always wish to be here for you, if you will let me. Will you marry me?’
‘Oh, Carlo.’ A deep flush of pleasure crept up Agnes’s face and she was temporarily lost for words.
Carlo looked crestfallen. ‘I see I have spoken out of turn. Please forget.’ And he turned to leave.
‘Agnes reached out to touch him on the shoulder. ‘No, Carlo! Come back! I mean, yes, Carlo, I thought you’d never ask!’ Agnes laughed, as he held her in his arms, and Agnes knew that, no matter how she had felt about Ted or how sad she was at his passing, nothing could compare to the way she felt now, here in the arms of a good man who loved her for herself.
Archie went to the train station to fetch Tilly, who was looking weak and pale, and try as she might, Olive could not hold back the tears any longer.
‘Oh, my baby,’ she cried, as she helped Tilly to the car and, ignoring Tilly’s protests that the weather was far too warm for a rug, Olive tucked the woollen blanket under her daughter’s legs.
‘You know what she’s like,’ Archie said, chuckling from the front seat, where Drew sat beside him. Drew and Archie looked at each other, knowing that the two women would work it out in their own way: one would always be the doting mother and the other would always be the dutiful daughter, and the men would be bystanders who listened and knew it was more than their lives were worth to pass judgement on either of them.
Olive fussed about her daughter, making sure she was comfortable. Tilly, thankfully, recognised that it was her mother’s way of coping: Olive was a doer. She did things to keep her mind occupied and not dwell on the devastation around them. She was strong and she was forthright, more so now than at the beginning of the war, Tilly knew; as they all were. They had changed in many ways and their lives would never be the same again. People had come and gone in the six years since the war began but some had stayed.
Some, Tilly thought as she gazed in awe at the wonderful young man in the front seat, would be with her for the rest of her life. And some, like her wonderful friend Janet, would be a happy, smiling memory in years to come when the pain of her young life being so callously wiped out had subsided.
She knew she could not talk about that devastating day just yet, not until she met up with Pru and Veronica – it was far too painful – but one thing she was grateful to this war for and that was the promise the four girls had made that Christmas many years ago when they were all eager, wet-behind-the-ears ATS ‘girls’ – to stay together for ever. Pru and Veronica were coming over to see her at the weekend as they were on leave and she couldn’t wait to see them.
‘Honey,’ Drew said from the front seat, ‘did you tell your mom the good news?’
‘I was just going to,’ Tilly answered, and turning to her mother she said, ‘Mum, Drew and I are getting married. As soon as possible.’
For a brief moment, Olive’s heart lurched. She had her little girl home, but marriage could mean anything. Tilly could end up in America where she would never see her again – Olive checked herself. Tilly was a grown woman now, she’d done her service alongside the men in Italy and nearly got killed in the process. Olive had found happiness with Archie and had a baby on the way, who was she to stand in the way of her daughter’s future?
‘Oh, that is so wonderful, darling – just wonderful, perfect!’ Olive cried, and tapped Archie on the shoulder. ‘Did you hear that, Archie? Tilly and Drew are getting married!’
‘That’s marvellous news, darling, just splendid,’ Archie smiled as he and Drew exchanged glances. ‘Oh, and did I tell you we are now Barney’s official parents? We signed the papers this morning.’
‘This family just keeps getting bigger.’ Tilly laughed, thrilled that she was home safe in the folds of her family once more.
‘I can’t wait until Callum and I tie the knot. We’re not rushing anyth
ing, mind you, but I know we won’t want to wait too long.’
Sally was helping Tilly put the final touches to her wedding outfit. She was wearing a satin dress that Olive had made to Tilly’s own design from a dress that Dulcie had donated from her own wardrobe. Tilly had seen pictures of the actress Betty Grable’s wedding the previous year and had fashioned her own dress after it. The material was of a sheer silkiness that made Tilly feel like a princess and the overall effect was stunning. The blue pendant around her neck perfectly offset her dark-hair and green eyes.
‘Oh, Tilly, you’ve never looked more beautiful.’ Sally complimented her friend and helped her to make the final adjustments to the fine lace veil that had belonged to Tilly’s own mother.
‘Now, let’s see if we’ve got it all right, shall we?’ Sally continued. ‘Something old – Dulcie’s dress. Something New? Is there any chance of anything new in this godawful war?’
‘Dulcie also bought me a new garter,’ said Tilly, flashing a bit of thigh and showing off Dulcie’s gift.
‘You can depend on Dulcie!’ Sally raised an eyebrow. ‘Something borrowed – that can be your mother’s veil and then there is something blue, which is that lovely pendant.’
Tilly fingered the sapphire pendant, her thoughts turning to her friend Janet, who had been killed when she was wearing it.
Sally sensed her thoughts. ‘She’d want you to be happy, and that pendant couldn’t look lovelier. I was reading today that it looks like the tide of war is turning. Hitler’s troop’s are being routed by the Russians and the Allies are making headway into France.’
At that moment, the door to Tilly’s room opened and in came her mother, Olive, looking every inch the mother-of-the-bride, with an extravagant feather in her hat and her best woollen coat on. Olive took in her daughter’s dress, the veil and her happy face as Sally handed Tilly a bouquet of pale yellow roses and she couldn’t help but allow a tear or two to escape.
‘I never felt as proud of you as I do today, love.’ Olive voice caught as she hugged her daughter.
