The Girl on the Beach

by Mary Nichols

  ‘When are we going up in a bloody plane?’ someone muttered under his breath as they toiled to the top of the tower, a contraption from which they jumped, their rate of descent being controlled by a fan. It was much higher than a fuselage and the landing harder.

  His words were heard by the RAF instructor. ‘Not yet, you don’t,’ he said. ‘Not until I’m satisfied you won’t break your ruddy neck on landing.’ He held out a helmet on the top of which were painted the words ‘Dig here’, which produced a laugh from the fledgling parachutists. Though they were all keen to make their first jump, they were also nervous. So much could go wrong. The instructor’s job was to minimise that.

  At the end of the week they were told they could have the weekend off, which was received with a cheer and a general exodus into Manchester. Alec went looking for Eve.

  She was on duty in the stores, looking forward to going off at lunchtime and having the rest of the day to herself, not that she could go until the queue of men with chits to draw stores had been dealt with. Head down, concentrating on the paperwork, she did not notice Alec until she heard his quiet voice say, ‘Hallo, Eve.’

  Her head shot up. ‘Alec! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Looking for you.’

  ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘By train and truck, as if that mattered. I’m here.’

  ‘On leave?’

  ‘No, silly, posted here to do parachute training.’

  ‘Oh, Alec, why didn’t you warn me?’

  ‘I wanted to surprise you.’

  ‘You certainly did that.’

  ‘When are you off duty?’

  She looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘In about half an hour.’

  ‘Come on, Corporal, we can’t stand here all day while you chat,’ the man next in the queue grumbled.

  ‘Go away,’ she told Alec.

  ‘OK, I’ll wait outside.’

  She was in a blue funk. Alec was here and he was wonderfully vibrantly alive; he was not at the end of a letter, subject to the vagaries of the postal service. Feelings she had been manfully suppressing had suddenly shot to the surface on seeing him. She had wanted to throw herself into his arms at the same time as she was dismayed by her reaction. Now what to do? She toyed with the idea of slipping out of the back door and avoiding him, until she could sort herself out, but told herself that would be cowardly. She worked for the next half-hour in a daze, then walked out to meet him.

  ‘Where to?’ he asked, kissing her cheek.

  ‘Wherever you like. We could take a bus into Manchester, go to a dance, or the pictures.’ Anywhere public where they would not be alone, she thought, admitting to herself that, after all, she was a coward.

  They went to see Mrs Miniver, which was not a good choice, Julie realised, when she found tears running down her face, and not all to be laid at the door of the film. She mopped them up, hoping Alec had not noticed. Afterwards, walking through the darkened streets to catch a bus back to the station, he put his arm about her shoulders. ‘You’re not as tough as you’d have us believe, are you?’ he said.

  She laughed. ‘No, I’m a big softie.’

  ‘Could you not spare some of that softness for me?’

  ‘Oh, Alec, you know I do.’

  ‘Then why turn away from me?’

  ‘I haven’t turned away.’

  ‘Yes, you have. On that last leave at home, you pushed me off.’

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s just that …’ She was floundering and stopped to calm herself. ‘It’s just that life is so uncertain. You never know from one day to the next what’s going to happen, do you?’

  ‘And after losing all your family, you are afraid of losing me, is that it?’

  It was a way out. ‘Partly, I suppose.’

  ‘Isn’t that all the more reason to make the most of the time we might have together, however long or short. That’s what Florrie and Matt decided and I think they were right.’

  ‘But you don’t know much about me, do you?’

  ‘I know all I want to know. The past is gone. You can’t bring it back.’

  She sighed. ‘I wish I could.’

  ‘Oh, Eve, I wish I could take away the hurt. Please, let me try.’

  ‘You’ll hate me then.’

  ‘I could never hate you. I love you. Don’t you understand what that means? It means that I want to marry you, to call you mine, to be joined with you, body, mind and spirit for always. We could be happy together and I could make you forget the horrors.’

  ‘Forget,’ she murmured. ‘I wish I could and I wish I didn’t.’

  ‘That’s an enigmatic statement if ever there was one.’ There was a bench at the bus stop and, instead of going to stand in the queue, he pulled her down beside him onto it. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s troubling you?’

  She looked about her; there were people coming and going, not the time or place to unburden herself, but she knew she would have to, sooner or later. She could not go on stringing him along. ‘Not now, it’ll take too long. Tomorrow. I’m off duty.’

  ‘Is that a promise?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He hugged her to him and kissed her cheek. The bus drew up and they climbed aboard behind the queue. He was cheerful; she was withdrawn. Already she was rehearsing in her mind what she was going to say. And after it was all over and he had left her, angry and disappointed, she would have to write to Florrie and repeat it all. And that would be the end of their friendship, the end of her visits to the farm and the dear people there who had been so good to her. She would be alone again.

  ‘Good God!’

  They had taken a bus into the countryside and walked for miles. He had tried light conversation, but she was unresponsive until he had almost lost patience with her and pulled her down onto the grass beside the track. The sun was shining, the heather was in bloom and the skylarks soaring, but she noticed none of it. He put his arm about her shoulders. ‘Eve, we can’t go on like this.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Then what’s bugging you?’

  She had taken a deep breath and launched into her story, the words tumbling over each other in her effort to get them out, and at the end of it his reaction had been, ‘Good God!’

  ‘They told me I’d had a child. Whether it’s alive or dead, I’ve no idea. Whether I wanted it or not, I’ve no idea. Whether I loved its father, I have no idea. How can you want to marry someone like that, someone who does not exist?’

  ‘Of course you exist. You are sitting here beside me. The problem is, what do we do about it?’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do. I’ve tried everything.’

  ‘Do you think you will remember in time?’

  ‘At first I thought I would, the doctors thought so, but it’s been so long now I think it’s gone for good.’

  ‘I can’t imagine what it must be like, not to remember a childhood, not to remember mother, father, sister, going to school, taking that first job. Can’t you recall any of that?’

  ‘No. Sometimes I have odd flashes of what I think might be memories, but they’re never substantial enough to grasp and say, ‘Yes, I remember that.’

  ‘What sort of flashes?’

  She told him about the long corridor in what she assumed was an institution where she might have left her baby, the feeling that it was at the seaside, reinforced by the most recent one about the bouncing bombs, which had left her unsettled for days, and her fear of being shut in the dark, which she assumed was on account of being buried under rubble during the air raid. ‘As far as I am concerned that was when my life began,’ she said, relaxing a little now the story had been told. ‘The seventh of September 1940.’ She gave a troubled laugh. ‘Eve Seaton came into this world already an adult.’

  ‘Oh, my love,’ he said, hugging her to him. ‘I wish I could help, but if you can’t remember, you can’t, and that’s it.’

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve been such a disappointment to you, but you’ll soon find someo
ne else.’

  ‘Find someone else! What are you talking about? I don’t want anyone else. I want you. Why, if you were to marry me, you would have a new name, a real one.’

  His words echoed for a second, as if she were being nudged, but the feeling left her as had so often happened in the past. ‘But would such a marriage be legal?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. In any case, I don’t care. The past’s gone, water under the bridge.’

  ‘No, it’s not. It’s a whirlpool, going round and round, going nowhere, dragging me down and everyone I love with me.’

  ‘Eve Seaton, you are talking nonsense. Either you put the lost life behind you and get on with the one you have, or we make a concerted effort to find out the truth and all that entails, good or bad. There must be something that can be done. Somewhere or other there must be lists of people missing in air raids. At least you know the place and the date, so that’s a starting point.’

  ‘I’ve done all that.’

  ‘Then we’ll do it again. Together.’

  ‘And if we don’t succeed?’

  ‘Then I want you to promise me you’ll put it behind you and become Mrs Alec Kilby.’

  ‘Can you put it behind you?’

  ‘Yes.’ He was firm on that score.

  ‘I don’t think you realise how difficult it will be. Every day something or someone will remind you that you’ve only got half a wife, the other half will be gone into some void, a ghost to haunt you. I might even be a criminal. Who’s to tell?’

  ‘I don’t believe that for a moment. Losing your memory does not change you fundamentally. You’re still the same person inside, still the sweet, compassionate, brave Eve Seaton I know and love, and I reckon you always were.’

  ‘Oh, Alec.’ She was in tears. He mopped them up.

  ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart, I was trying to cheer you up.’

  She gave him a watery smile. ‘You have.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘What about Florrie and your parents? I’ll have to tell them now I’ve told you.’

  ‘Of course, but they know how I feel about you and will go along with whatever we decide. All I need to know is if you love me. That’s all that matters.’ He turned towards her and took both her hands in his, looking earnestly into her eyes, such very blue troubled eyes. ‘Do you? Yes or no?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank heavens for that.’ He gathered her into his arms and kissed her good and long, but he was careful not to let his feelings run away with him. This love was too precious to spoil and he had to take it very slowly. He was also aware that nothing else had been resolved. It was all very well to say they would find out the truth, but how could they do anything about it while they were subject to the vagaries of the War Office? Sleuthing would have to wait while he went back to helping win the war.

  For the next few weeks he saw Julie as often as he could, but the training was even more intense as they progressed. They had to do eight jumps to qualify, three from a cage suspended from a barrage balloon, one of which was done at night, and five from an aircraft. He was a bundle of nerves before that first balloon jump, as they all were, but once in the air with the parachute open above him it was a wonderful sensation. They had been told how to control their descent by manipulating the harness straps, but that was not easy as they swung to and fro while an instructor on the ground yelled up at them through a loudspeaker. They all landed safely, if not elegantly, rolled up their parachutes and carried them to the trucks to be taken back to Ringway, where WAAF parachute packers would repack them.

  ‘It’s the most exhilarating feeling,’ he told Julie, later that day when they both had a few hours off duty. ‘You feel so free and the world’s spread out below you. The landing was a bit hard and one or two hurt themselves …’

  She knew that happened quite often and had seen the ambulance careering out of the gate towards Tatton Park where the men were dropped. Broken femurs and ankles and dislocated shoulders were fairly common. Now and again there was a fatality when a parachute failed to open ‘But you were OK?’

  ‘Yes, fine. Don’t worry about me.’

  ‘What does your mother think about you doing this?’

  ‘Oh, she’s all right about it. She thinks it’s keeping me out of harm’s way.’

  ‘Oh, Alec, what sort of yarn have you spun her?’

  He laughed. ‘Parachuting is great fun and miles away from any action. I could be on active service in Italy instead of safely in England, which I pointed out to her. And don’t you dare tell her any different.’

  They were a couple now, everyone knew it, and Julie had accepted it, though she still had enormous doubts. It was a good thing, she decided, that they couldn’t think about marriage or she would have to make decisions she wasn’t ready to make. Not that she didn’t love Alec; she loved him heart and soul and knew he was ‘the one’, as Florrie would have said, but they were no nearer a solution to her dilemma. She had told Florrie about it in a very long letter and been forgiven for keeping her in the dark for so long, and Florrie had told her that if Alec wanted to marry her, then what was she waiting for? Speaking for herself, she had never been happier and would not have forfeited her time with Matt for anything, even though it took a lot of organising and switching of duties and leaves to bring it about.

  Julie knew about that because she and Alec were doing the same thing as far as they were able to, but even being on the same station did not help when he was being kept at it night and day. There was a purpose to it all, and everyone appreciated that.

  The balloon jumps out of the way, Alec found himself lining up with his ‘stick’ of ten men to climb aboard a Whitley to make his first descent from an aircraft. They had to clear the aeroplane in the shortest possible time after reaching the dropping zone. It was important that they land close together because the jump was really only the beginning; they had to assemble and turn themselves into ground troops ready for battle. When the red light came on in the fuselage, they stood up and hooked themselves onto the static line which would automatically release their parachutes, and shuffled into line. The exit was through the floor and they had practised it many times, because if you didn’t jump clear the pack on your back hit the back of the opening and sent you spiralling, but jump too enthusiastically and your nose hit the front – the ‘Whitley kiss’ they called it. The first man sat on the edge. Red light changed to green and the RAF dispatcher shouted ‘Go!’ and they went out one after the other with no hesitation. A refusal to jump meant being sent back to your original unit and was the ultimate shame. ‘Go!’ was the command that governed all their training and was ingrained into their brains, so that obedience became an instinct.

  ‘I’ve done it,’ he told Julie after his eighth jump. ‘Passing-out parade tomorrow and I get my wings and my red beret.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘And you know what? It’s ten days’ leave before we’re posted.’

  Julie suddenly felt miserable; she had known it had to end, this being on the same station, but now it was close she realised how much she would miss him. ‘Where are you being sent?’

  ‘Back to Salisbury Plain, I expect.’

  ‘Nearer home, then.’ It was said flatly to cover her dismay.

  ‘Yes, but that’s not the point. The point is ten days’ leave. Can you get some leave, so we can have time together before I go?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘But you’ll try, won’t you? It’ll be the last time we’ll be able to see each other for ages. I reckon the invasion’s not too far away and all leave will be cancelled. I want to have some happy memories to take with me.’

  Happy memories. Why did remembrance feature so strongly in everyone’s lives, especially her own? He wanted happy memories and so did she.

  ‘You do want to be with me, don’t you?’ he queried, sensing her hesitation.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course I do. I’ll ask.’

  ‘You’ll do more than ask, y
ou’ll beg.’

  She laughed. ‘OK, I’ll beg.’

  If she had expected their leave to be spent at the farm she was mistaken. Florrie had told him what a wonderful time she and Matt had had on the shores of Lake Windermere and he had booked a week at the same holiday cottage. He did not tell her until they were well on their way, and she realised with a sudden jolt that when he said he wanted them to spend their leave together, he had meant night and day. It sent her into a panic. Had he taken her agreement for granted?

  Her first reaction was to tell him to turn round and go back, but that was quickly followed by ‘Why?’ Why go back? What had she to lose? Not her virginity, that had already gone, but she might lose the man she had come to love. Life was too uncertain to be prudish. She settled back in her seat and closed her eyes, letting the cool wind flow over her face and relax her. She was lucky, so very lucky, and she must make sure he knew how she felt. Her loss of memory seemed suddenly less important, not really important at all.

  Slowly and surely as the year progressed, the tide of war began to turn in the Allies’ favour. The Russians had turned defeat into victory at Stalingrad and were on the offensive. They were difficult allies, in spite of the help being sent to them in Arctic convoys which braved the U-boats and the terrible weather conditions to reach them. They wanted a second front in the west to take the pressure off them. They didn’t want it any more than the British people, who were war-weary and longed for peace. An invasion of Europe would surely be the beginning of the end, but it could not be done in a hurry, and Italy had to be dealt with first.

  The North Africa campaign ended in total victory, leaving the troops to turn their attention to Sicily and then to Italy. News of the invasion came on 3rd September, exactly four years after the declaration of war. Five days later the Italian government surrendered and changed sides and Italy became one of the occupied countries. The Germans still held out and the Allies’ slow progress up the boot of Italy was frustrating for those who had been anticipating a second front that year.