Emma's War

by Rosie Clarke

  I couldn’t believe that I would never see him again, never feel his touch or have him hold me close. He had given me so much love, and our time together had been so brief. He was a kind, gentle man who hated this war, and he didn’t deserve to die this way. The pain was unbearable, overwhelming. I wanted to die, because life without Jon would be so empty.

  ‘He’s missing, Emma,’ Sol’s voice came to me through the pain. ‘You don’t know that he was killed. He may have got out … I rang a friend of mine at the War Office and asked for more details. He told me one parachute was seen after the plane was hit … it could have been Jon … he may be alive.’

  ‘Only one …’ I choked. ‘That means the rest of the crew …’

  ‘Stop it, Emma!’ Jack Harvey said sharply. ‘Stop that right now. Your husband is missing. You can’t change that, but it doesn’t mean you have to stop hoping.’

  ‘No … it doesn’t mean I have to stop hoping.’ He had got through to me somehow. I looked at him eagerly, then at Sol and Margaret. ‘Jon is missing in action – that doesn’t mean he is dead, does it? He could have got out, even if no one saw him …’

  ‘I shouldn’t let yourself hope too much, dearest,’ Margaret warned softly. Her eyes were sad, filled with love. ‘But you don’t have to give up just yet.’

  ‘What will happen?’ I asked. ‘If he is alive and in France …’

  ‘Someone may be able to get him out, or at least hide him,’ Sol said. ‘It is happening all the time, Emma. Just because the Germans have taken over the country, it doesn’t mean all the French have surrendered. I happen to know that there is a strong resistance going on there.’

  ‘Then Jon could come home?’

  I looked at their faces, and I knew that not one of them really believed it. But I was going to cling to that hope. I couldn’t give up on Jon. Only if I carried that hope in my breast would he have a chance of coming back to me. It was a foolish superstition, but I had to hold on to it. I had to believe that one day Jon would return to claim me.

  I stood up, lifting my head, facing them proudly. The shock had made me weak, but I was strong now. I had been hurt before. I had faced despair and grief and come through it, and I would this time. I refused to believe that Jon was dead. He couldn’t be, mustn’t be, because I needed him so much.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m going upstairs. I need to be alone.’

  No one spoke. I was conscious of them all watching me as I went out of the room. They all believed Jon was dead, but I couldn’t. To accept that he was gone for ever would be unbearable.

  I didn’t cry as I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. I just thought about Jon, about the wonderful times we had spent together, so few of them I could almost count them on my fingers.

  ‘Come back to me, Jon,’ I whispered into the darkness. ‘Please come back to me, my darling. I love you … need you … so much.’

  I tried not to think of what might be happening in France. What did German patrols do if they found an airman who had been shot down? Would they arrest him … put him in a camp for prisoners of war? Or would they shoot him down where he stood? No, surely not – not if he surrendered without a fight.

  Jon wouldn’t try to fight. I believed that he would surrender and wait out the war in … wherever they sent him. Perhaps to a camp in Germany. I felt chilled as I thought of my beloved husband being shut away for months or even years. Who knew how long this wretched war would go on?

  Perhaps he would be found by the French resistance. Perhaps someone would hide him, and he might be able to get home somehow. Was it possible? Sol said it had happened, was happening … but he might have said that to comfort me, because he had known I couldn’t bear my loss.

  Jon might be dead … or injured. I curled up in a ball as the pain struck inside me. It was almost worse to think of him badly injured than dead. The misery was like a tight, hard stone in my guts. I felt as if I were dying of some dreadful disease, as if my body were being stuck with hot needles.

  Jon must feel so lost, so alone. If he was alive … but I had to believe it had been his parachute another pilot had reported having seen. I had to believe it!

  Would the War Ministry know if the Germans had taken him prisoner? Did they get lists of men held in camps? Could someone find out for me?

  Jack Harvey had hinted that he could pull all kinds of strings. Perhaps in time … weeks or months … he might be able to find out something for me.

  ‘Oh, Jon my darling,’ I whispered over and over again as a prayer. ‘Live! Live for me, my love. Come home to me. I want you to come home.’

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ Mrs Reece sobbed into her handkerchief. ‘I can’t believe our Jon is dead … it isn’t fair. He never wanted this war. Why him? Why my son?’

  ‘Now then, Dorothy, stop that, my dear.’ Pops laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘You know what Emma said just now. We don’t know for certain that Jon is dead. They think at least one man parachuted out; it could have been Jon.’

  She shook her head, looking at me with her sad eyes. ‘Emma wanted to give us hope,’ she said, dabbing a lace handkerchief to her cheeks. ‘But I know Jon is dead. I’ve felt something bad was going to happen for weeks now. I know …’

  ‘You can’t know,’ I said. I was irritated by her weeping. She was giving up too soon. I wanted to shout at her, but I would never forgive myself if I did. ‘I shan’t give up hoping. I’m going to ask a friend of mine to make inquiries. If Jon has been arrested by the Germans …’ I paused as she gave a shriek of alarm. ‘Yes, I know. I know – but it’s better than him being dead. If he is a prisoner he will survive. I know Jon. He will keep his head down and do whatever he has to …’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Pops said, looking at me keenly. ‘If Jon were to be taken prisoner, he would survive. He would accept what had happened and do what he had to until the war ends.’

  ‘And when will that be?’ Mrs Reece asked bitterly. ‘From what I can see of things we’ll be at war for years … until they finally grind us to our knees and we have to surrender. Why they had to start this terrible war in the first place I don’t know. I don’t understand what it is all about. I don’t know why we have to suffer like this …’

  ‘The government didn’t have a choice,’ Pops said, shaking his head at me from behind his daughter’s back. ‘You mustn’t be a defeatist, Dorothy. I know things look black just now, and it may take us years – but we’re going to win.’

  ‘Yes, we’ll win,’ I said, lifting my head to look at him, smiling in spite of the pain in my heart. ‘We’ll win and Jon will come home. I know it – I feel it …’

  ‘You are so calm,’ Mrs Reece said, a flash of anger in her eyes as she looked at me. ‘I don’t know how you can take this so calmly, Emma. But of course, you have so much more in your life. Jon was all I had …’

  ‘Now that’s not fair,’ Pops said, and he gave her a stern look. ‘Emma is doing what she has to do, just as we shall. I think you should apologize to her, Dorothy.’

  For a moment I thought she would refuse, then she went pink and dropped her gaze, looking at her hands as she twisted them in her lap.

  ‘I’m sorry, Emma. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you are upset – of course you are.’

  ‘It’s breaking my heart,’ I said. ‘But I’m not going to give up on Jon, Mrs Reece. If I do that he won’t come home …’

  She lifted her head and looked me in the eyes, then nodded. ‘You are right,’ she said. ‘We have to keep him alive in our hearts … whether he comes back or not.’

  I got up and went to kiss her.

  ‘He will come back,’ I said. ‘I promise you, Mother – he will come back to us.’

  ‘I had to come up,’ my mother said, as she embraced me. She was crying, trembling as she held me close. ‘I couldn’t bear to think of you facing this alone … my poor Emma. You’ve had so little time with him. And you were so happy. It just isn’t fair …’

  ‘What we
had was worth fifty years of the kind of marriage I would have had with Richard,’ I said. ‘Jon was special, Mum. No, he is special. I’m not going to give up on him. I know he’s alive, and he’s going to come back to me one day.’

  ‘Oh, Emma …’ My mother looked at me sadly. ‘I wish you would accept the truth, dearest. Jon’s plane was shot down. It is most unlikely that he survived the crash.’

  ‘They believe someone got out … a parachute was seen …’

  ‘They think someone might have got out,’ Mum said. ‘It hasn’t been confirmed officially, has it? You only have Sol’s word that one man might have bailed out.’

  ‘Sol wouldn’t lie … not about something like that.’ I raised my head. ‘Besides, he doesn’t believe it was Jon. He is just like you, Mum. He thinks I should accept that Jon has … gone. But I can’t. I don’t want to. I love him and he has to come back to me.’

  ‘Supposing he doesn’t, Emma?’ Her eyes met mine, forcing me to acknowledge what she was saying. ‘I’m not saying you should give up all hope yet – just don’t bank on it, dearest. Jon wouldn’t want you to live alone all your life …’

  ‘Don’t!’ I held my hand up, warning her to be silent. ‘I don’t want to hear this, Mum. I refuse to even think about it.’

  ‘No, of course not. It’s much too soon. Forgive me. I just don’t like to see you this way …’

  ‘I’m all right. Honestly. I’m still going to work, and I’m going to start back at the social club next week. I know life has to go on, Mum. Jon would expect me to carry on as usual …’

  ‘Yes, you carry on,’ my mother said, nodding to herself. ‘Maybe that’s best. Just carry on the way you always do. You’ll get through this, Emma.’

  ‘Yes, of course I shall. It’s just a case of waiting …’

  But the waiting was so hard, and the nights were filled with fear and pain. It wouldn’t be so bad if I could just hear something … a confirmation that Jon had been taken prisoner perhaps.

  ‘Emma, I think …’

  Our conversation was interrupted at that moment by Mrs Rowan. She came into the room, hesitating before speaking.

  ‘I am sorry to disturb you, Mrs Reece, but Mr Harvey is here. He would like to speak with you … Shall I tell him you are busy?’

  ‘No …’ I said. ‘Please ask him to come in.’

  My mother looked at me as the housekeeper departed. ‘Who is Mr Harvey?’

  ‘A friend of Sol’s,’ I replied. ‘I asked him to call, Mum.’

  ‘Why, Emma?’ She turned as Jack entered, the question unanswered.

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come before,’ Jack said. ‘I’ve been rather tied up, Emma …’ He glanced at my mother. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.’

  ‘This is my mother,’ I said. ‘Mrs Fitch … Mum, this is Mr Harvey. I asked him to call because I’m going to ask him if he will help me.’

  ‘Emma …’ she said. ‘Oh, Emma …’

  ‘You know I will do whatever I can,’ Jack said, his eyes meeting mine across the room. ‘But I think I can guess, Emma. You want me to find out what I can … about Jon. That’s it, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ I said. ‘I know it’s early days yet, Jack – but Sol can’t find out anything more. He has tried, but they just keep telling him they don’t know. I thought … perhaps there might be some way to cut through red tape …’

  ‘Your government probably doesn’t know anything,’ Jack said, ‘but there are people who can find out these things. It may take months. If Jon is in a camp … even a year or longer …’

  ‘Yes, I know that,’ I said. ‘But if there is any way to find out for certain …’

  ‘It can be done,’ Jack said. ‘I know people. I’ll set things in motion. But you will have to be patient, Emma.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Just as long as I know someone is trying …’

  Jack’s eyes met mine. ‘It gives you hope, and that helps.’

  ‘Thank you for understanding,’ I said and he smiled at me.

  ‘That’s what friends are for,’ he said; then he came to take my hand in his. ‘I’ll do what I can, Emma. I promise you. If Jon is in a camp, I’ll find out somehow …’

  ‘It’s all I ask,’ I said. I raised my head, gazing into his eyes. ‘I know I have no right to ask anything, but I should be so grateful …’

  ‘You can ask me for anything you want,’ Jack said, and grinned at me. ‘I’m leaving for America tomorrow, Emma. I may be away for months. If you don’t hear anything, don’t think I’ve given up. I shan’t forget you. Remember that always.’

  ‘Yes …’ I felt my cheeks go pink and took my hand from his. The expression in his eyes and the warmth in his voice was too revealing. ‘Thank you, Jack. Thank you for being my friend …’

  ‘I’ll be seeing you,’ he said. ‘Keep your chin up, Emma. If life kicks you in the guts, kick it back – that’s what I do.’ He was grinning as he gave me a swift kiss on the lips; then he turned to my mother. ‘Look after her, Mrs Fitch. Just until I come back …’

  I stood where I was as Jack walked from the room, feeling stunned. I had known Jack was interested from the moment we met at that reception, but I hadn’t realized it went so deep with him. I’d thought he was the kind of man who enjoyed playing games, that he was merely flirting with me to pass the time.

  ‘He’s in love with you, Emma,’ my mother said after a few moments in which neither of us had spoken.

  ‘No, of course he isn’t,’ I said. ‘We’ve only met a couple of times – and I hardly noticed him the first time.’

  ‘All it takes is one look in some cases,’ she said, and there was a hint of satisfaction in her eyes. I knew what she was thinking and I was angry.

  ‘I love Jon,’ I said. ‘I shall always love him, Mum.’

  ‘Always is a long time, Emma.’

  ‘Please don’t! I can’t bear this. I asked Jack for his help, because he has all sorts of powerful friends. He is a rich man, Mum – a man from a wealthy, important family in America. They own a chain of fashion stores, and Jack has his fingers in all kinds of pies. Just remember who and what I am … even if I was interested, which I’m not.’

  ‘Not now, of course not,’ she said. ‘Forgive me, Emma. I shouldn’t have spoken my thoughts aloud – but that man does love you. And I doubt very much if he cares who or what your father was.’

  ‘Which reminds me,’ I said, changing the subject. She meant well, of course, but I didn’t want to think about a future which did not include my darling Jon. ‘I had another letter from Gwendoline. She says her mother has been ill, and she hasn’t been able to leave her – but now Mrs Robinson is better again and she wants to come and see me. Gwendoline, that is, not her mother.’

  ‘She wants something,’ Mum warned. ‘Believe me, Emma. I suppose you can’t stop her coming if she wants – but don’t give her money.’

  ‘At the moment I don’t have much to give her,’ I said. ‘Everything I have is tied up in some way. I only have what I earn and and a few pounds for emergencies. The profits from Madge’s shop are a little extra now and then, but we’ve been putting most of it back into stock while we can.’

  ‘Good.’ Mum looked pleased. ‘You can’t give away what you haven’t got. And she’s coming to beg, Emma. I’d bet my last shilling on it.’

  Chapter 5

  Having my mother with me in London for the next few days helped me a lot. I think her being there reminded me of a time when I had been miserable once before. Somehow I had managed to get through that period of my life, and I was managing now. It hurt. It hurt desperately whenever I allowed myself to think about Jon, to wonder where he was and how he felt about what was happening to him.

  My husband was a sensitive man who felt things keenly. I tried to think about his situation calmly. Would he find it humiliating to be taken prisoner – or would he be able to retreat inside that world in his head?

  There was nothing I could do to chan
ge things, but the fact that Jon was missing made me more aware of how precious the people in my life really were. I began to spend more time at home with James, and as Christmas drew nearer, I took him to the big department stores to see the toys and decorations. There were no festive street lights, of course, but the shops had brought out the glitter and baubles in an effort to help their customers forget the shortages on their shelves.

  Margaret came shopping with us sometimes. She seemed a little better again, or she was pretending to be for Sol’s sake. For James’s present she bought a very grand wooden rocking horse with a red leather saddle and bridle studded with brass.

  ‘It’s bigger than he is,’ I said, laughing as I saw the flush of excitement in her eyes and knew how much pleasure buying the horse had given her. ‘You spoil him, Margaret – we all spoil him.’

  ‘What harm can a little spoiling do? I’m just glad we were able to get the rocking horse. We were lucky to get such a nice one. I thought it might be impossible to buy anything of quality, but this must have been in stock for a while.’ She smiled at me. ‘Now – what can I give you, Emma? What would you like for yourself?’

  ‘I don’t mind – anything,’ I said. ‘Make it a surprise.’

  ‘Yes, that would be more exciting.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Shall we have a traditional Christmas, Emma? I wondered if you might prefer just a quiet day on our own?’

  ‘That wouldn’t be fair to James. This is the first time for him. Last year he didn’t understand. This time he will know what presents are.’

  ‘Then we’ll just carry on as if …’ She saw the flash of pain I could not quite conceal in my eyes. ‘I’m sure it is what Jon would want, Emma.’

  I blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall. ‘It is exactly what he would want. He told me once that I wasn’t to waste my life if … anything happened.’

  Margaret nodded but said nothing more. She believed Jon was dead, but she never tried to impose her beliefs on me. Instead, she was gentle, supportive, there if I needed her. I understood now why Sol loved her so much, because I did too.