by S Block
George was the same, but Eddie urged them on.
What kept him going, he wasn’t sure. Partly – mostly – it was a sense of already having come so far, and a determination not to let down the others. The desire to keep going, to live, proved in the end more powerful than his deepest, darkest moments of despair. They were over the worst, he told himself. He said it again and again in his head. Over the worst. The words propelled him forward. The moment they had made their escape was surely the trickiest part, their trek through Germany a close second. Nothing else could be as bad.
He was wrong about that.
They had yet to see for themselves the worst of the Nazis’ brutality. As they made their way onwards, they witnessed Jewish men, women and children rounded up and led into the forest to be slaughtered; they saw Soviet prisoners, weak from starvation, being worked to death in labour camps. What Adam had witnessed would never leave him.
And then there was Eddie, whose own luck ran out when the boat bringing them home came under German fire.
Adam swallowed down some of the whisky.
‘For some of what I saw, there are no words. ’ Tears ran down his face. ‘We think we know what the Nazis are capable of, the depths of their cruelty, but we know almost nothing. What’s going on there, the killing of innocents – it’s worse than anything you can imagine. ’
Sarah knelt in front of him and took his hands in hers. ‘It’s all right,’ she said softly.
‘No, it’s not,’ Adam told her. ‘It can never be all right. ’ He began to sob. ‘Where’s God in all this? What use is prayer in the face of all this death and destruction? The things I’ve seen, what men are capable of doing to one another . . . the sheer inhumanity. ’ He covered his face with his hands. The sight of the Soviet prisoners, little more than skeletons, came back to him. Dead on their feet. Nazi soldiers, devoid of compassion, pushing their prisoners to the point of death, revelling in their suffering. Now Leningrad was under siege, its people facing starvation. ‘I’ve asked myself countless times, how can He stand it?’
Sarah stroked his hair. ‘Terrible things happen in war, atrocities beyond all our comprehension, unspeakable acts of brutality that most of us will never make sense of. I expect it’s even harder to comprehend when you have faith. You question why God doesn’t do something. How can He allow such suffering? You’re not the first to ask such questions, and you won’t be the last. ’
She waited a moment, trying to steady her breathing. It must be hard, Adam knew, for her to see him like this.
‘I know I’m shielded from the worst of it,’ Sarah went on, ‘that although I might think I know what war means, how bloody it all is – the truth is, I don’t. But you, Adam, you’ve seen it, lived through some of the worst horrors. It’s bound to leave you feeling raw in ways I can only begin to imagine. ’ She gazed at him. ‘You’re hurting, Adam. You’re angry – with the Nazis, with God. Some of your deepest wounds are on the inside, and the process of healing is going to take time. All I’d say is, don’t be in a rush to make any momentous decisions – about God, or anything else. ’
Adam was quiet a moment. He felt lost, in a greater crisis than he had ever known. In the past he ’d always found consolation in his faith, but it seemed to have deserted him. Or, perhaps, in his distress, he had shut it out – he wasn’t sure which. ‘It’s as if every bit of certainty I once had is gone,’ he said. ‘It’s as if my ministry has been about peddling lies, encouraging people to believe in a God who goes missing right at the point when you need Him most. ’ He gave her an anguished look. ‘I can’t hear Him anymore, Sarah. ’
‘Tell me what I can do to help,’ she said.
He shook his head. This was something he was going to have to work out for himself.
‘There’s an awful lot of competing noise inside your head just now,’ Sarah said gently, folding her arms around him. ‘And perhaps it’s drowning out everything else – even God’s voice. In time, the turbulence may just begin to settle. For now, try to be patient. ’
Adam nodded. It was good advice. ‘I’m just not sure I can pick up where I left off, and go back to my old life, as if nothing has happened. ’ He lowered his voice. ‘And I don’t know if I want to. ’
Sarah held him tightly. ‘Whatever you decide, I’m here. ’
Chapter 33
O
N THE DAY OF the WI ‘Fashion on the Ration’ extravaganza, Frances arrived early at the village hall. Pat was already there, checking the clothes rails and making sure every item was in its rightful place and clearly priced. Alison had helped her decide how much to charge, keeping everything affordable. The few relatively expensive items were confined to the formal and evening wear section from which Pat had retrieved Frances’s Dior dress. It now hung in her spare room, awaiting alteration.
Frances stepped inside the hall, and was met by the colourful banner Pat had made from spare strips of fabric. Bunting hung from the walls, and the whole room looked bright. She stood for a moment, admiring Pat’s efforts, aware that she ’d been expecting help from Sarah, Erica and Gwen Talbot and that none of them in the end had been able to come.
‘It looks absolutely marvellous,’ Frances said. ‘Nothing like the usual jumble sale. ’
‘Being able to put everything on rails is what’s made the difference,’ Pat told her. ‘Once you put clothes on hangers, you lift them out of the realms of rummage right away. ’
Frances wandered over to the womenswear section, where she was greeted by a mannequin in an elegant turquoise dress, a fur stole draped across its shoulders. Frances peered at it. ‘Is the fur one of mine?’ she asked.
‘It is. And that’s my old wedding dress. ’
Frances took a closer look. ‘It’s lovely. Did you make it yourself?’
Pat nodded. ‘The fabric cost a fortune, but I wanted to splash out. If you can’t wear something nice on your wedding day, when can you?’
Frances turned back to her. ‘I’ve been rather remiss, I’m afraid, leaving you to get on with all this, almost single-handed, expecting you to manage, assuming you’re fine and that you’ve adjusted to an entirely new way of life. I didn’t even stop to think you could do with a little support. Forgive me, Pat – I’ve not asked for quite some time how you are. ’
Pat smiled. ‘It’s been six months since Bob died, and life has a way of going on. I hope this doesn’t sound callous, but it’s as if I’m coming into my own at last, becoming the person I was meant to be, if you can understand that.’
‘I must say, I’ve noticed you growing in confidence, embracing the freedom you now have – dressmaking, writing – and it’s a sight to behold,’ Frances told her. ‘And not before time, I’d say. ’
‘I heard back from the magazine,’ Pat said. ‘The one I submitted my story to. They’re going to publish it. ’
Frances beamed. ‘That’s wonderful news! Congratulations! A published writer, no less, what an achievement! Really, Pat, getting your work into print and at the first attempt . . . all I can say is you must have an outstanding ability. And I’m sure this is just the beginning, the first chapter, if you like. Are you able to tell me anything about the subject matter?’
‘It’s a love story, a couple who find each other against the odds, only to be separated by war. ’
‘I do hope you’ve given your couple a happy ever after,’ Frances said. ‘Isn’t that what we all want, particularly in these trying times?’
Pat nodded. ‘It’s not quite so straightforward,’ she said. ‘In real life hope and longing, the dream of something better, is all too often unfulfilled. In the story, they lose touch and she’s left waiting for news, wondering why he’s fallen silent. ’
‘A story of our times,’ Frances said.
Pat nodded. ‘I found I didn’t want to end on too final a note. The idea was to leave room for more of their story to unfold. And the magazine have already asked for a second instalment. ’
&nb
sp; ‘How clever,’ Frances said. ‘Get the readers hooked and then keep it running. It all sounds very intriguing. I will keep my fingers crossed that everything works out for your couple and that they get their happy ending after all. ’
*
Once the sale opened for business, it soon became busy, and the rail of women’s clothing was the first to be depleted. The children’s section also proved popular. Pat, alongside Frances, was kept busy taking money at one end of the hall. Among the first items to sell was Pat’s old wedding dress, to one of the women who ’d been coming to the WI ‘Stitch in Time’ classes. Steph Farrow bought a couple of Bob’s shirts and a suit of his that had hardly been worn.
In a rare moment of quiet, Joyce Cameron appeared, holding the fur stole donated by Frances. ‘I spotted this as soon as I came through the door,’ she said, pleased with her find. ‘Extraordinary to think whoever this belonged to no longer wanted it. ’
Frances avoided looking her in the eye as she took payment for the fur. ‘We’re not actually sure where it came from,’ she said. ‘I can definitely see you wearing it, though. ’
Joyce tucked the stole into the Browns’ bag she ’d brought with her. ‘Actually, Frances, I wonder while you’re not too busy if I might have a word?’
‘Of course. ’
‘I must confess I feared this might end up a glorified jumble sale,’ Joyce said, steering Frances to a quiet corner. ‘You’ve really worked wonders. ’
‘All credit belongs to Pat,’ Frances said. ‘She has worked tirelessly, almost entirely on her own, to make it happen. ’
‘I understand she was hoping that Mrs Talbot would lend a hand and then, unfortunately . . . ’ She left the sentence unfinished. ‘And if I’m not very much mistaken, didn’t Mrs Collingborne have every intention of helping out too?’ Joyce gave Frances a penetrating look.
Frances frowned. ‘I really couldn’t say. ’
‘I must say, I’m surprised to see she’s not here today. ’ Joyce’s beady eyes scanned the room. ‘I’d have thought she ’d want to show her support. ’
‘I expect she’s busy. ’
‘No doubt. I’m sure she must be fully occupied at home. ’
Frances gave nothing away. ‘Most likely. I’m really not sure what she’s doing. ’
Joyce kept her eyes on Frances. ‘I was walking past her house the other day and glimpsed someone in the garden. A man. When I called out a greeting, he shot inside the house. ’ She paused. ‘It was as if he didn’t want to be seen. It really was most peculiar. ’
‘Sarah did say that Stan Farrow was going to take a look at pollarding the pear tree,’ Frances said. It was a poor lie, but, having been put on the spot, it was all she could think of. She wondered if ‘pollard’ was the correct term for cutting back a pear tree, and if so, whether November would be the right time to do it. She felt herself starting to wilt under Joyce’s scrutiny.
‘It was most definitely not Mr Farrow,’ Joyce said, not taking her eyes off Frances.
Frances gave what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. ‘In that case, I don’t think I can help. ’
‘Although I caught only the briefest glimpse, something about the gentleman was familiar,’ Joyce went on. ‘In fact, I could have sworn it was . . . the Reverend Collingborne. ’ She waited a moment before saying, ‘I wonder, do you happen to know if he’s back from the war?’
Frances gave her a stern look. ‘My dear Mrs Cameron, this is exactly how rumours start. ’
Joyce hesitated. ‘As you’re aware, I’m not one to gossip, and I have no wish to pry into private matters – but I would like to know if our vicar has returned. It would be a boost to the village, a source of great joy to those of us who have kept him in our prayers in recent months. ’
‘Of course, I understand, but I’m afraid you’re very much mistaken. ’
Joyce arched an eyebrow. Frances wished she would stop looking at her in such an accusing manner. ‘Am I?’ Joyce said. ‘I happened to call at your sister’s this morning on my way here in the hope of speaking to her about this very matter, but I got no answer. It’s not the first time of late that I’ve felt there was something . . . not quite right about the house. More than once I’ve noticed the curtains have been left closed until lunchtime. ’
‘I’ll call on her myself once we’re finished,’ Frances offered. And warn her that word about Adam’s return will soon be all over the village.
‘Frances, I’m not seeking to make mischief. I assume there’s a very good reason why the vicar hasn’t yet made his presence felt. There are villagers, however, in need of comfort and spiritual counsel. Mrs Talbot, for one. Perhaps if you find your sister at home, you might be so kind as to let her know. ’
*
‘I have something to tell you,’ Alison said.
She was with Teresa, examining the rack of baby clothes, looking through knitted jackets and all-in-ones, dresses in pale pastel colours. Teresa held up a fussy pink confection with an embroidered hem and ruched bodice. ‘If I knew I was having a girl, I’d buy this,’ she said, grinning at Alison. Then she folded the dress and put it down. ‘Right, I’m all yours – this “something” is to do with John, I’m guessing. ’
Alison’s cheeks were pink. She checked to make sure no one was within earshot. ‘We’re getting married,’ she said, her voice a whisper.
Teresa let out a joyful whoop that caused several women to turn and stare at them.
Alison shushed her. ‘Nobody knows yet, and we’re only telling a few close friends, so a little less of the jumping for joy, if you don’t mind! Especially in your condition. ’
‘But I’m so happy for you,’ Teresa said, giving her a hug. ‘I’ve always felt the two of you were well-suited – long before you were prepared to admit to it, in fact. ’
‘I know, and you were right. The idea of falling in love was so unexpected, the last thing I’d ever have imagined happening. It took me by surprise, you know. So much so, it was a while before I was willing to acknowledge my feelings. But I can see now how fortunate I am. ’
‘And so is John,’ Teresa reminded her. ‘Have you decided on a date, made any plans?’ Her eyes widened. ‘What about a dress?’
‘We’re busy working all that out. I’m not sure what I’ll wear, I was hoping I might see something today. ’ She glanced in the direction of the formalwear rail. ‘Nothing’s quite right, though. ’
‘Have you anything you could alter?’
‘I’m not sure. ’ She had a satin frock she ’d worn to a friend’s wedding some years earlier. It still fitted, but Alison wasn’t sure that it looked sufficiently special. It was her wedding day, after all, and whatever the rest of the village might think, she had never been married before. She wanted to make the most of it, look the part. She might have a word with Frances, and see if she had something she could borrow.
‘Our wedding won’t be anything like on the scale of yours,’ Alison went on. ‘We only intend to have a few guests. You and Nick, of course, will come?’
‘I can’t wait. ’
Alison frowned. ‘I do wonder . . . how people will react to the news. ’ She knew their marriage would cause quite a stir in the village and that, inevitably, some would find the idea of a ‘mixed marriage’ beyond shocking. ‘It’ll give them something to talk about, I suppose,’ she said, making an effort to sound less concerned than she really was.
‘The usual small-minded individuals will have an opinion, no doubt,’ Teresa said. ‘Not that it’s anyone’s business but yours. Most people, certainly the ones who matter, will be overjoyed for both of you. ’
Alison nodded. ‘If only there wasn’t such hostility towards John. ’ She still felt raw over the business of the sheep killings and how quick certain individuals had been to blame him. Gwen Talbot, to her credit, had come to the house to speak to them and say how sorry she was that John had been accused, how
ashamed she felt for having been among those to assume his guilt.
Even so, Alison struggled with the notion that John would ever be truly accepted here.
‘It’s one of the drawbacks of a small village, as we both know,’ Teresa said. ‘I’m not saying cities are much better – you find ignorant people everywhere – but at least there’s a degree of anonymity in larger places, and that can be of some comfort when you find you’re out of step with the majority. ’
Like you, Alison thought, thinking once more about Teresa’s clandestine relationship with another woman. Somehow, with Alison’s encouragement, Teresa had succeeded in adapting to a way of life those around her found acceptable. She had married, was about to have a child. She would be a wife and mother. By submitting to convention, she had been afforded respectability.
In order to conform, however, she had to keep a part of who she was concealed. Not just now, but always; not just from the wider world, but from her husband too. Alison had been so concerned with safeguarding Teresa’s reputation – and her own, as the young woman’s landlady – that she had not properly considered the degree of heartache involved in her decision to jettison the very essence of her true self. It was only now, when she knew what judgement society might cast on her relationship with John, that she was struck by the enormity of the sacrifice Teresa had made.
‘You don’t have any regrets?’ Alison asked quietly. ‘About all you gave up in order to make a life with Nick?’
Teresa shook her head. ‘I’ll admit I’ve had my moments when I’ve questioned the decisions I made, but isn’t that something we all do from time to time? I never thought I could be happy with a man, but Nick is a true companion, and always good to me. Sometimes, to be sure, I do wonder if things might have been a different way, especially on a bad day, when things aren’t going as planned. ’ She smiled. ‘In the early days of marriage, I remember despairing, thinking I’d never even master the basics of being a housewife, just putting an edible meal on the table . . . ’ She laughed. ‘Thanks to the recipes you loaned me, I managed to overcome that particular obstacle. ’
