by Sandy Taylor
When I told my mum about me and Jack, she didn’t seem a bit surprised.
‘I thought you were already walking out,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘I did, because you were always together. I just thought you hadn’t got round to telling me yet.’
‘Oh, Mum,’ I said, smiling at her.
‘As long as you’re happy.’
‘I am happy, Mum. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.’
‘Well, the way things are going, I think this world of ours can do with as much happiness as it can find.’
‘Are you scared, Mum?’
‘Of the war?’
‘Yes, are you scared that we are going to go to war?’
‘I’ve lived through it before and I never thought that it would happen again so yes, I’m scared. I’d be a fool not to be.’
‘It might not happen,’ I said.
‘You might need to go and light a few candles.’
‘I’ve already asked the Blessed Virgin Mary to look after Nelson.’
‘How is he?’ said Mum.
‘We haven’t seen him for a while. In his last letter he said that they were confined to barracks because of the threat of war. He said the war games on Salisbury Plain didn’t feel like games any more.’
‘I’m almost glad your father isn’t here to see what’s happening. I don’t think he could have coped with another one.’
‘Can I ask you something, Mum?’
‘Of course.’
‘Why was Daddy so ill? Because I never knew.’
‘I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that. I didn’t want to say anything until you asked.’
‘I didn’t want to upset you, I didn’t know how to ask.’
‘Come and sit beside me, Maureen.’
I walked across to the couch and sat down. I tucked my legs underneath me and my mum and I held hands.
‘You really want to know?’ she said.
I nodded.
‘During the last war your daddy was in the Navy. He didn’t wait to get called up, he volunteered. His ship was heavily bombed. He saw good friends blown up in front of his eyes. He had to shovel body parts of his friends into sacks. Can you even begin to imagine that? Can you imagine having to relive those memories every single day?’
I shook my head.
‘He saw things he couldn’t even tell me about, so they must have been even worse than that. He came home a broken man, Maureen. He never talked about it much. I think it would have been better if he had, but he relived those nightmares at night. That dear man could get no peace. Before the war he worked on the railways and he tried to go back to it but he thought the trains were going to run over him. He came home in tears and he was never able to work again. It wasn’t his fault, Maureen, but I think he was ashamed that I had to go out to work while he stayed at home. In the end, he couldn’t bear the shame of it any longer and he left us.’
There were tears running down Mum’s face. I put my arms around her and we cried together and then we dried our eyes and we smiled, because we had known him and we had loved him and he would never be forgotten.
‘Thank you telling me, Mum. I had never understood.’
‘I couldn’t tell you when you were a child, it would have been too much for you, but now you know.’
‘Do you think that Daddy will be pleased about Jack and me?’
‘All your daddy ever wanted was your happiness, Maureen. I’d say at this very minute he’s sitting on a cloud laughing his head off and wishing you all the luck in the world.’
‘I miss him so much, Mum.’
‘I know you do.’
* * *
We didn’t do much, Jack and I, it was enough that we were together. We walked on the Downs, we canoodled in the barn, we strolled along the seafront and when it was warm enough, we sat on the pebbles eating fish and chips out of the paper.
On New Year’s Eve we wrapped up warm and joined a crowd of people heading towards the seafront. War seemed inevitable and there was an air of living for the moment in the crowds of mostly young people making for the beach. They were laughing and singing, kissing and dancing. We saw a young man get down on one knee and ask his girlfriend to marry him and when she said ‘yes’ everyone started clapping and he picked her up and swung her around. The Palace Pier was lit up, the light reflecting in the grey waters beneath. Music was coming from the ballroom at the far end. I had always wanted to dance with Jack and now maybe, just maybe, one day I would.
The sky was full of stars for as far as you could see, way, way out over the horizon. And then the bells started ringing out from all the churches across Brighton and passing ships hooted their horns. Everyone cheered and strangers kissed strangers. People jumped down onto the pebbles and those brave enough ran into the icy-cold sea. Jack took my face in his hands. ‘Happy New Year, Maureen,’ he said and then we kissed, cold lips touching cold lips. But I was warm inside Jack’s arms and I knew that I always would be.
I put my head on his shoulder as we looked out over the inky-black water and I wondered what 1939 would bring.
Forty
Despite the threat of war, life carried on. It had been a hard winter and everyone welcomed the spring. The days were longer and the nights were warmer. It was a time of new beginnings. Everything that had been asleep came to life and turned black and white into glorious colour. Crocuses pushed their way through the earth and emerged in glorious shades of white, purple, yellow and orange. The air was fresh and the sky was blue. Bright yellow daffodils swayed in the cool breeze and sweet-smelling honeysuckle wrapped itself around hedgerows.
Jack and I spent a lot of our time walking on the Downs. The rolling green hills were dotted with white daisies and yellow dandelions and golden buttercups. Sometimes we would stand very still at the top of the Devil’s Dyke and just listen. We decided that the whispering grass had a language all its own. We listened as the wind picked up the sound and carried it across the hills and out towards the sea. Nature seemed to be putting on a show just for me and Jack, or maybe it was for all young lovers. We gloried in it, we gloried in each other.
‘Remember when it was snowing and we used Brenda’s old pushchair as a sledge?’ said Jack.
‘I remember everything,’ I said.
‘Did you love me then?’ he said, smiling.
‘I always loved you.’
‘And I never knew.’
‘But you do now.’
‘We wasted a lot of time.’
‘No we didn’t because even when you didn’t know I loved you, we were still together. We still share the same memories. You were my friend and I was yours and anyway, Monica says you have to like someone before you can love them. I think I’m right in saying that you always liked me.’
‘You were OK, I suppose… for a girl.’
‘Jack Forrest!’ I said, punching him playfully on the arm.
‘Race you down the hill!’ he said, running away from me.
I caught up with him and he pulled me down onto the grass and we lay there, looking up at the blue sky and the bright yellow sun.
We hadn’t seen much of Nelson and we both missed him. It seemed ages until his next leave; this time he was staying at my house.
* * *
Jack, Monica and I met Nelson at the station. I was so happy to see him – I hadn’t seen him for so long. We all hugged. The sun was shining as the three of us walked out of Brighton station. He only had a small bag with him so we headed straight to the seafront. A new cafe had opened up under the prom. It had tables and chairs outside so Monica and I sat down while the boys got cups of tea for us all.
‘Nelson looks so grown-up, doesn’t he?’ said Monica.
‘Are you warming to him then?’ I said, grinning.
‘Not in that way, daft.’
‘Cos he’s skint?’
Monica laughed. ‘Not just that, Maureen.’
‘What, then?’
‘I think that you and
Jack make a very good pair, because both of you are blind as bats.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Nelson’s only got eyes for you, Maureen.’
‘For me?’
‘Yes, you.’
‘We’re just friends, Monica.’
‘Isn’t that what Jack said to you? He thought you were just friends?’
‘I know, but…’
‘But nothing. That poor boy has been mooning over you for as long as you’ve been mooning over Jack.’
‘Jack said he thought that Nelson and I might get together.’
‘Not so blind after all then.’
‘What am I going to do about it?’
‘There’s nothing you can do about it. Nelson knows how you’ve always felt about Jack. It will be no surprise to him that you’re together at last.’
‘I’ve always talked to him about Jack. He’s always known that Jack is the only boy for me but now I feel bad.’
‘Don’t. Nelson is a lovely chap and there’s a very lucky girl out there somewhere just waiting for him to sweep her off her feet.’
‘I wish he wasn’t staying at my house now.’
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything,’ said Monica. ‘Nothing’s any different to how it’s always been. He’s still Nelson.’
‘But if he feels like that about me, then he must be hurting and I’d hate to think that.’
‘Nelson thinks enough of you to be glad for you. When you love someone you want what makes them happy. I think, in his heart, Nelson knew that there was a chance that you and Jack would end up together and he’ll be glad for you.’
‘Monica?’
‘Yes?’
‘I know that Jack cares for me and wants to be with me but…’
‘But what?’
‘He’s never told me that he loves me. He’s never said the actual words.’
‘That’s because he’s a boy,’ said Monica. ‘Boys seem to find it hard to say those three words. If it’s really bothering you, then you’ll have to ask him. You’ll have to say, “Do you love me, Jack?” Then you’ll know for sure.’
‘I’m not going to ask him, it won’t mean the same.’
‘Then you’ll just have to be patient, and if anyone can do patient, you can.’
We couldn’t say any more because just then the boys came back with the tea.
‘Our Nelson’s learning to drive tanks,’ said Jack, putting the cups and saucers on the table.
‘I don’t think I’d like to be cooped up in a tank,’ said Monica, blowing into her cup.
‘I didn’t like it myself at first,’ said Nelson, sitting down. ‘I felt a bit trapped. But now I feel differently about it. The alternative is hand-to-hand battle. I’d rather have a ton of steel between me and a bullet, I can tell you.’
‘Do you think you will be going into battle?’
‘I keep praying that something will happen to stop this war but the longer it goes on, the more I fear it’s inevitable. We’ve just been told that the German flag has been raised in Prague.’
None of us spoke for a while. We just sat there sipping our tea and thinking our own thoughts.
‘Bloody men! Present company excluded, but bloody men,’ said Monica. ‘It’s not women who start wars, is it?’
‘I can think of a few,’ said Jack. ‘Cleopatra, for a start, and then there was Boudica, Joan of Ark, Matilda of Tuscany… Shall I go on?’
‘OK, clever clogs,’ said Monica, grinning.
‘Just saying,’ said Jack.
I loved listening to Jack; I loved that he was so clever. I hoped that I would be enough for him and that he wouldn’t tire of me because I didn’t know all the stuff he knew. He was mixing with really intelligent girls every day at university; he must realise that I would never be like them, not in a million years. Jack was still speaking.
‘So you see, Monica, it’s not just bloody men that start wars, it’s bloody women as well.’
She made a face. ‘What else are they teaching you, Nelson?’
Nelson looked sad for a moment as he sat there looking out across the sea.
‘They are teaching me how to kill people, Monica,’ he said.
Forty-One
However much Jack and I wanted to shut out the rest of the world, we couldn’t. We had chosen the worst of times for this great love affair of ours. I’d waited eight years for him to fall in love with me and he’d managed to do it just as the country decided to go to bloody war. I had a feeling my swearing was about to come back with a vengeance.
The government supplied gas masks for every household. They were horrible, ugly things and when you put them on, you could hardly breathe. They smelt of rubber and disinfectant. When we finally persuaded poor Brenda to try hers on, she had a panic attack. She was shaking and crying and we had to sit her down and get her a cup of hot, sweet tea.
‘I won’t wear it, Mum, I won’t,’ she sobbed.
‘You might not have to, love,’ said Mum. ‘It’s just a precaution, that’s all.’
We were given cardboard boxes to carry them round in and it became a daily reminder of the dangerous times ahead of us.
Anderson shelters were delivered and erected in back gardens. The shelters could hold six people, so we shared one with Jack’s family. Every evening you could hear the sounds of hammering and banging as men bolted together the six curved sheets of metal that made up the shelters. I watched Jack and his dad, with their sleeves rolled up, shovelling earth on top of it and patting it down. When it was all finished, I looked inside. It had no floor, just the damp earth that it had been built over.
‘How are we all going to sit in there?’ I asked Jack.
‘Don’t worry, love,’ he said. ‘Me and Dad are going to put planks down and we’re going to build a couple of benches so that we all have somewhere to sit.’
We managed to get Brenda to put her head inside but she refused to go any further.
‘It feels like a coffin,’ she said.
‘It’s not a place to die, Brenda,’ said Mum. ‘It’s a place to live.’
I had a feeling that if a bomb did fall, Brenda would be the first inside, sitting on the bench as pretty as you like.
Leaflets came through the doors advising us about blackout restrictions. Most people in the street couldn’t afford to go out and buy black curtains, so we all dyed our old sheets and blankets ready to use if we needed them.
Peter and Hassan had gone up a gear. Every book about war was lifted off the shelves and taken outside to the bench. Peter had taken to wearing his father’s medals pinned to his suit jacket. Afshid was going demented and forever storming into the bookshop and screaming at him out the back door.
‘The stupid man says if we go to war, he will sign up. He has flat feet, lumbago and he can’t see more than two feet ahead of him. If the likes of him are going to defend the country, we might as well surrender right now.’
‘I’m sure he’ll calm down soon,’ said Maggie.
‘I shall pack my bags, I shall return to my homeland and I shall leave the war to Hassan.’
We nodded our heads in sympathy. Despite all her threats we knew that she would never leave him because, in between shouting at him, she was forever supplying him with sandwiches and drinks and every morning she quite happily trotted off to buy newspapers. She would read the paper on the way back from the shop and then she’d announce the latest news to the war council. Peter and Hassan had by now acquired an old table from the junk shop down the road. The centre of operations was growing by the day. Victory marches continued to blast out of the record player, which attracted the attention of other shopkeepers. Once the baker next door had finished baking his bread and cakes he would walk through the shop and into the yard, leaving a trail of flour all over the floor. Which was preferable to the butcher marching in, in his blood-soaked apron. It was the baker who suggested they put up tarpaulin over the bench and table to protect the books and maps from the rain.
Mrs Bentley said that the only good thing to come out of this impending war was that it had given Peter a purpose in life that he hadn’t had for a long time.
Jack continued to travel to London to attend university. He told us about the sand bags that were being piled up in front of the War Office and the trenches being dug in the parks; also the huge silver barrage balloons floating over the rooftops like drowsy, fat slugs. He said that sometimes in bad weather they had to be cut free and they would float around completely out of control, smashing into chimney pots and taking tiles off the roofs. It all sounded scary and I wanted him to stay at home. I feared that if bombs were going to drop anywhere, it was going to be London. I wanted him home with me, where he would be safe.
Everyone was going to be issued with identity cards and we would all be given a special number and food was to be rationed.
There were so many rumours flying about. Some people were saying that the Germans had already landed and were living amongst us. There was so much suspicion and theories around that some people almost wished the war would start, then at least everyone would know exactly who they were fighting.
On September the 1st their wish was granted, when Germany invaded Poland and Britain declared war on Germany. On September the 3rd, neighbours once again packed into Jack’s front room. Mr Forrest fiddled with the knobs on the wireless and tuned in just in time to hear the voice of Neville Chamberlain.
‘I am speaking to you from the cabinet room of 10 Downing Street. This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received and that, consequently, this country is at war with Germany.’
