by Rosie Clarke
‘I love you, Emma. I think of you all the time, my darling.’
‘I love you, Jon … so very much.’
‘With luck I’ll get a pass soon … but we can’t get away just yet.’
‘No, of course not, darling.’
Nothing about the missions he was flying day after day, hour after hour. Just a few words to say he loved me and was missing me.
And then, all at once, we knew that the battle was won. Thirteen thousand civilians had been killed during the raids on London alone, but we had come through. The threat of invasion was seemingly over, and the bombing raids were suddenly less severe. It seemed that Hitler had decided he was wasting his time trying to flatten our cities. Now he had begun to turn his attention to the convoys in the Atlantic. If he couldn’t bomb us into submission, he was going to try and starve us of all essential supplies.
It meant that there was endless queuing at the shops, and some things were becoming harder and harder to find, but somehow we all managed. Life went on much as it always had. We were all determined that Hitler was not going to beat us.
And so the months passed away, and it was almost Christmas. It was then that I received a letter from a Miss Gwendoline Robinson.
‘Forgive me for taking the liberty of writing to you,’ she began.
I did try to contact you through our solicitor some months ago, but I have heard nothing and I wondered if you ever received the letter? It is my belief that you are my brother’s daughter. My brother was Harold Robinson. I know that he lived in a town called March in Cambridgeshire for many years and ran a newsagent and tobacconist shop there. I thought perhaps you might wish to know that my mother is still alive, though an invalid. We have recently moved nearer to London, and I wondered if you would consider visiting us one day …
I remembered the letter my mother had given me months ago, and felt guilty. It was still in the pocket of the coat I had worn that day. I had intended to send it to my own lawyers and ask them to find out what they could, but somehow it had been forgotten in the excitement of my wedding and everything that had happened since.
Somehow Miss Robinson had discovered where I was living and had decided to write to me personally.
I glanced at the address, which was in Hertfordshire, a village called Aldbury. I was not sure how I would be able to get to such a place, which might be miles from anywhere, nor was I certain I wished to visit these relatives of my father. If Miss Robinson had known where my father lived all those years, why had she never tried to contact us before his death?
And yet perhaps she had, perhaps it was my father who had wished to keep his secrets to himself. Yes, that was very much more likely. Harold Robinson had been a man who liked to keep his own counsel.
I thought about her letter for a week or two, turning it over in my mind. In the end I decided to write to Miss Gwendoline Robinson and tell her that I did not think I could visit at the moment, but that if she would care to come to London I would find the time to see her …
Chapter 4
‘I told you,’ my mother said when Sol took me to visit her the next week. ‘This Gwendoline … she wants something, Emma. She wouldn’t have written unless she had good reason.’
‘You can’t know that, Mum,’ I said, breaking a piece of her special fatless sponge and feeding it to James. ‘She might just want to know me. She is Father’s sister – and her mother is my grandmother. I think I might like to know more about them.’
‘You’re not thinking of visiting them, Emma?’
‘I’ve told her I can’t, not for the moment. I just haven’t got time – and nor has Sol. We’ve only come today because there was a small fire at the factory. Sol was worried. He wanted to assess the damage for himself. I think some bales of material may have been spoiled. He has to account for every little thing these days. The government inspectors are so strict. It makes lots more paperwork for Sol.’
‘Well, why don’t you help him out, Emma? You kept the accounts for your father for years.’
‘I would if Sol would let me,’ I said. ‘But I don’t have much time to spare myself, Mum.’
I had never told her anything about the financial side of Sol’s business. She might have frowned over some of his methods, though to be honest she wasn’t above a little trading on the black market herself. We never visited without taking back bacon, eggs and a slab of fresh farm butter, none of which had ever seen a Food Ministry stamp! So although she could not exactly hold the moral high ground, I kept my silence. Whatever Sol chose to do was not my business.
I knew that he would never rob or harm anyone. His behaviour could be called unpatriotic, and was perhaps a little shady at times, but he was not a bad man. I was very fond of him, and still grateful for all the kindness he had shown me.
Sol was my friend. Those weeks of dreadful bombing, when we had all sheltered together, never knowing if that night would be our last, had formed a special bond between us. I would stand by him no matter what.
‘Have you heard about Sheila’s husband?’ Mother asked, bringing me abruptly from my reverie. ‘He was rushed into hospital the night before last.’
‘Oh, no!’ I cried, looking at her in alarm. ‘I haven’t heard from Sheila for a few weeks. I was going to ask if I could leave James with you and pop along to see her?’
‘Of course I’ll have James. I don’t see enough of him.’
‘You could come and stay for a few days, Mum. Margaret would be pleased to see you.’
‘Perhaps I shall one day,’ she said, surprising me. ‘Bert wouldn’t mind. He has suggested it more than once.’
‘Then come,’ I said. ‘I would love you to. And now, I shall go to see Sheila. She must be worried to death, with the shop to see to and a young baby …’
Sheila was serving a customer when I arrived. She looked as if she hadn’t slept all night, her eyes shadowed and her nose red from crying.
‘Oh, Emma,’ she said as soon as her customer had left. ‘I’m so glad to see you. Eric is in hospital. They’ve told me … he may have consumption.’
‘Sheila, I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘That’s terrible. You must be so worried about him, and you were getting on so nicely. Is there anything I can do? How will you manage?’
‘My cousin Alice has offered to come and stay, so she will look after the baby. I can just about manage the shop alone if I have to.’ She gave me an anxious look. ‘I don’t want to give it up, Emma. This shop was a chance for us to make something of our lives.’
‘Why should you give up? If your cousin helps you, you can manage. It’s going to be hard work, but there must be a young boy or girl who could come in on a Saturday – and perhaps after school. You could ask around or put a card in the window.’
‘Yes, that’s what I thought.’ She bit her lip. ‘I had to pay some bills this week, Emma. Eric hadn’t been well and he had let them mount up. It means I’m short in the rent … I can make it up next week, though.’
‘How much are you short?’
‘Ten shillings …’
I opened my bag and gave her a pound note. ‘Give the rent to Mr Smythe as usual. You can pay Mum the ten shillings when you’ve got it to spare, the other is a present for the baby. And you don’t have to pay Mum the money next week. You might need money for visiting the hospital. If you need anything, Sheila, let me know. I’ll do whatever I can to help.’
Her eyes were moist with tears. ‘You’ve always been a good friend to me, Emma.’ She caught back a sob. ‘I don’t know what I shall do if anything happens to Eric.’
‘Nothing will happen,’ I said. ‘He may have to go away to a sanatorium, though. It might mean you won’t be able to see him very often.’
‘Yes …’ She nodded, looking thoughtful. ‘The doctor said they might send him to a special place near the sea. The air would be better for him there.’
‘Let’s hope it’s just his bronchitis,’ I said. ‘I’ll say a prayer for all of you, Sheila.’
She smiled and thanked me. Another customer came in then, and I left her after promising to write.
I visited Madge Henty next. Madge had heard about Sheila’s husband and promised to keep an eye out for her. We talked about the business, which was ticking over nicely. We were too small to be bothered much by all the new regulations, though of course we had to adhere to them.
‘They won’t bother me much,’ Madge said. ‘I reckon they’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’ve heard it said there’s been some terrible rackets going on. Some folk should be ashamed of themselves!’
‘You mean some firms were making excessive profits out of government contracts? And overcharging for goods, yes, I know. It does go on. I’ve seen it in London shops.’ She nodded, making a tutting noise. ‘I think that’s part of the reason for the clampdown, Madge. We all have to account for every penny now.’
‘There’s ways and means,’ Madge said. ‘I read about a load of meat that was supposed to have been contaminated by a flood in a basement store. It was all nonsense. They were selling it out the back door the next morning.’
‘Well, I’m sure they will be caught,’ I said. ‘Some people will get away with things for a while, but in the end they will find themselves in trouble.’
‘They deserve it,’ Madge said, looking cross. ‘I’ve always been honest, Emma. I don’t hold with racketeering.’
‘It isn’t right,’ I agreed. ‘Not when everyone is having to cut down – but people do things, Madge. It’s human nature to get away with a bit here and there if you can.’
She nodded, then laughed. ‘Well, I must admit I wouldn’t say no to a packet of sugar under the counter! And I wouldn’t mind if it did cost me a bit extra. I can’t do without my sugar.’
‘There you are then.’
We laughed, had a cup of tea, and then I walked back to my mother’s house. I was a little anxious as I thought about the fire at the factory. Surely it was genuine? Sol wouldn’t try to make extra profit by pretending material had been ruined … would he?
No, of course he wouldn’t! I dismissed the idea as unworthy and forgot about it.
It was the following Saturday evening. A dance was in progress in the next room, and I was busy preparing the Spam sandwiches and jugs of orange squash we were offering as refreshments that evening. We were also fortunate in having tinned fruit salad, which had been donated to us by an American benefactor.
‘Two cases of it arrived this morning,’ Pamela Marsh told me. ‘They came off an American ship so I’ve been told – and our name was on the label. Fancy that, Emma. All the way from America, and specially for us.’
I looked at the woman who was sharing the evening shift with me.
‘That can’t be right,’ I said. ‘The consignment must have come from America, and then someone in authority here decided we should be given a share.’
‘Yes, I expect you’re right,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose anyone in America even knows our little organisation exists.’
‘Why should they?’
She nodded in agreement, and we carried on spreading the mixture of margarine and butter very thinly on the bread.
‘Do you think we’ve done enough?’ she asked after a while. ‘Only, I’ve run out of Spam. It means opening another tin.’
‘We’ll take these through and see what happens. We can make some more if they get eaten. But once we put the tinned fruit out, everyone will leave the Spam – at least, they will if they are as bored with it as we are.’
Pamela laughed and agreed. ‘It does get you down a bit, but it beats the whale meat I had at Lyons the other day. I’ve never tasted anything so awful, Emma. It was like eating old boots. I think I would rather go hungry!’
We picked up our trays of sandwiches. Some were with mustard or brown sauce to make them more interesting. Others had a slice of pickled onion on top of the meat. We did our best with the supplies we were given, much of it donated by friends, people who had managed to scrounge a little extra food from somewhere and wanted to share it with the brave men who were doing so much for us.
The music had stopped for a while when we carried in the refreshments. The quartet had gone off for a welcome cup of tea, and the various soldiers, sailors and airmen were talking to the girls they had met that evening. Most of the men came alone. It was to help newcomers find friends that our social club had been set up, and it was proving popular.
We held dances each Saturday. In the week there were concerts or social evenings. We had dart boards, table tennis and a pool table in the adjoining room. It was somewhere for the men to come, and there were always a few single girls to keep them company.
‘Hi …’ The deep voice behind me made me jump. I gave a cry of surprise as I turned to see Jack Harvey. He was dressed in a smart grey business suit, which looked somehow out of place in the dance hall. ‘Sol told me I might find you here this evening. I see you got the tinned fruit all right.’
‘Did you send us that?’ He nodded. ‘That was thoughtful of you, Mr Harvey.’
‘Sol thought it might come in useful.’
‘Is that what you’ve been doing all these months? Arranging to send us things we need?’
‘Something like that,’ he replied with a grin. ‘We can’t have our British cousins starving, can we?’
‘At least your ship got through,’ I said. ‘A lot of ours are being attacked and sunk now.’
‘Unfortunate, but I shouldn’t worry too much. They can’t get them all, and my ships sail under the American flag. This is a private venture, nothing to do with government. Besides, we aren’t at war with Germany yet.’
‘No, you aren’t, are you?’
He frowned, a glint of annoyance in his eyes. ‘Does that mean you think we ought to be?’
‘Perhaps …’ I shook my head. ‘No, I won’t get into an argument with you over it, Jack. I’m grateful for what you sent us – and it’s nice to see you again.’
His eyes were suddenly bright with laughter. ‘Does this mean I can call you Emma now? Have I been promoted to the rank of friend?’
‘Well, I think you might be,’ I said. ‘Especially if I can scrounge some more food for our men when your next ship comes in, Jack – or even now if there’s any going spare.’
‘I like the way you do business,’ he said. ‘Sol told me you were more than just a pretty face.’
‘Oh did he,’ I said, frowning at him. ‘I’m not sure I like that. Why were you discussing me at all?’
‘Now don’t get touchy,’ Jack said, and grinned in a way that disarmed me. ‘I just happened to ask Sol how he came to know you, that’s all. I was curious about you.’
‘You could have asked me what you wanted to know.’
‘Could I?’ His brows rose. ‘I wasn’t sure you would welcome my interest.’
‘I didn’t know you,’ I said. ‘I am only just beginning to know you now.’
‘But you would like to know me better?’
‘I didn’t say that …’ I laughed as I saw his expression. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Jack. You know I’m married … happily married.’
‘But I can be your friend?’ He was serious now. ‘I would like that, Emma. I do have some influence in this country. I’ve been useful to your government in various ways, and there are people who owe me a few favours. If there’s anything I can do … pull a few strings or wangle something for you …’
‘Get thee behind me Satan!’ I said, shaking my head at him. ‘Thank you for the offer, Jack, but I don’t need that kind of a favour, at least not for myself – any donations of food to the club are always welcome, of course.’
‘Got you,’ Jack said. He arched his brows as the musicians began to play again. ‘Any chance of you dancing with me?’
‘Well … I don’t see why not …’
I was on the verge of saying yes when Pamela came hurrying towards me. Something in her manner told me that she had bad news and I felt a shiver go down my spine.
; ‘What’s wrong, Pam?’
‘Mr Gould telephoned,’ she said. ‘You have to go home, Emma. He wouldn’t tell me what was wrong, but he said to send you home immediately.’
I felt the room spin round me, and I must have gone white because Jack caught my arm as I swayed. I blinked, then took a deep breath as my vision cleared. ‘I’ll get my coat …’ I turned and looked at the man still gripping my arm. ‘Jack … will you take me home?’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I have my car outside. Don’t worry, Emma. It’s probably nothing.’
‘No …’ I took a deep breath. ‘Sol wouldn’t have rung me if it wasn’t urgent.’
My heart was racing as I fetched my coat. I tried to apologize to Pamela for leaving her with all the washing up, but she told me not to worry.
‘What I can’t manage, I’ll leave for the morning shift,’ she assured me. ‘I hope it isn’t too bad, Emma.’
I nodded but couldn’t bring myself to speak. I knew instinctively that it was something that would change my life …
‘I’m so sorry, Emma,’ Margaret said as she handed me the telegram. ‘It came an hour ago. I waited until Sol got home … Jon’s plane was shot down over France last night. They don’t know whether he got out in time or not …’
‘Jon …’ I gasped, feeling as if I had been punched in the stomach. ‘Jon’s plane … went down over France …’
I swayed and might have fallen if Jack Harvey had not been there to catch my arm. He steadied me, then led me to a chair and made me sit down. I sat forward, my face in my hands as I tried to take in what Margaret was saying. My husband’s plane had been shot down. It was my worst nightmare, the one thing I had never allowed myself to think about.
‘Breathe deeply,’ a voice was saying. ‘You’ll be better in a minute.’
‘How can I be better?’ I cried, lifting my head to glare at Jack Harvey accusingly. ‘I shall never be better – my husband …’ I choked on the words as the sob broke from me and then the tears coursed down my cheeks. ‘Jon … my darling Jon …’
