by Anne Holman
The fifteen year old boy gave her a wide grin and hopped back into his cart flicking the horse’s reins so that they moved off, with him whistling loudly enough for it to be heard for minutes after he’d left the cottage grounds.
She took a deep breath and phoned her mother.
“Mum, I want you to sit down.”
“I am sitting down. What’s the matter?”
“It’s Geoff. I’ve heard he’s . . . “ Vera could hear her mother catch her breath as she waiting for her daughter to tell her the news. “Geoff’s been hurt. Injured.”
“Oh, I am sorry! What is it? ”
Vera realizes her mother wanted to know about Geoff’s injuries and she thought she should have phoned the MOD first and found out. But she just wanted to share her grief that he had been injured – to get some support and comfort from her mother first.
But was anyone comforting Geoff at this moment?
“Mum, I don’t know what he has suffered yet. I ought to have found out . . . “
“Yes, love, you ought to be told. I wish I could be with you.”
Vera wanted to be with her mother too, but she mentioned the snow and ice on the roads and they both agreed it would not be wise for her to visit today.
“Vera,” her mother said, “I think if his injuries were life threatening you would have been called to his bedside.”
“I suppose so. Anyway, I’ll ring again when I know something more about him.”
Ringing off, Vera then plucked up the courage to ring the military number, and after awhile she got though to a senior doctor who told her that Geoffrey Parkington was being transferred to another hospital and that she should ring them in a couple of days when they had had time to assess him.
“But can’t you tell me if he has, er, lost a leg - or something?”
“No, he hasn’t. His wounds were minor. But, well you must understand he has suffered from the blast . . . mentally.”
Vera closed her eyes. She knew nothing about the mental scars of war. How they would affect him – and her,
The doctor was continuing to talk, “You will have to come and see him. The doctor in charge of his case will explain things to you.”
“Yes,” said Vera woodenly, “I expect he will.”
“Mrs Parkington.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve seen far worse cases than his. I’m sure he will recover. But it’s a slow process and will require a lot of patience from you.”
“Thank you doctor.”
In her shocked state, Vera put down the phone and waited until she’d made herself a cup of tea, and with a shaky hand she drank it. She longed to rush to the hospital and see Geoff. But it was impossible. She hadn’t the petrol to make a long car trip down to the south coast. Anyway, the roads were not safe for travelling. And her baby was due before long. No, she couldn’t possibly go and see him. She would have to ring the hospital where Geoff was and explain.
Next, she rang her mother again and told her.
Sympathetic, and as concerned as she was, Mrs Alice Carter was not the kind of person to see the worst of the situation. “As the doctor told you, Vera, he will get better, I’m sure. In the meantime he is being looked after and you have his child to think about, don’t you?”
Vera certainly had. She began to wonder how long she would have to wait until the child was born.
“Yes, Mum,” she said, trying to sound more cheerful that she felt at that moment.
She was excited about the coming birth – yet apprehensive too as it was her first child.
Margaret too had to be told that she wouldn’t be coming into work. Vera was pleased to think that their previous day together had been worthwhile. and she didn’t have to worry about the continuation of the job she was leaving.
Now only the future had to be met with courage. The future for her, and her mentally suffering husband, and their war baby - which she felt was due soon.
* * *
Her mother was more concerned about Vera than she’d let on. She went down the road to talk to John about it.
“Come in Alice,” John said, as she ushered her into his sitting room, “you shouldn’t have gone out on these slippery pavements. You could have fallen over.”
Alice bristled. “I might be a grandmother soon, but I’m not that decrepit.”
“No, no you are not. But you could do without a broken arm or leg, m’dear.”
They were a companionable couple and as they sat either side of the fire, and John’s dog came nestling up for a stroke or two, Alice told him about the news she’d heard from Vera.
“We called it shell shock in the First World War,” John said. “I reckon most of us in the firing line suffered from it to some extent.”
“You didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. I wasn’t as crippled by it as some men were who came home from the front. But I suffered all right. Battle scars made me feel numb and gave me nightmares. But I was all right after awhile. Some ex-soldiers took far longer to heal and a few never recovered. When those men got home they took to drinking too much - and many marriages were affected.”
Alice shuddered as she sat and stroking the dog’s ears and stared at the small coal fire they were allowed in wartime. “I don’t like Vera being on her own,” she said, “and her baby is due soon - in fact anytime now.”
“Mmm. I’m sorry I can’t offer to run you over to her cottage. I haven’t the petrol. But I’m sure Vera being such a sensible girl will have some made some arrangements for the birth.”
“Yes, she has asked for an ambulance to take her to hospital when her time is near. And the farmer will take the care of her dogs until she is able to cope with them again. It’s just that being her mother . . .” her voice wobbled, “I just want to be there, with her, at this very hard time for her.”
“Of course you do.” He looked across at Vera’s mother with understanding.
Suddenly sitting up straight in his armchair he said, “I tell you what. We can get you a taxi over to her cottage. It will cost the earth - but you’ll both be far happier being together, won’t you?”
Alice looked at John with a smile. “You’re such a kind man.”
Having to act and phone for a taxi, and pack a few clothes was far better for Alice than moping and wondering what was happening to her daughter.
Later that day, Alice, muffled in her coat, hat, gloves and scarf, with her suitcase, knitting bag and spare spectacles – and stone hot water bottle in case Vera didn’t have one, was bundled into a taxi.
“Now don’t you worry, Alice. I’ll cancel your milk and newspaper.”
“John, dear, Look after yourself.”
“You too, Alice. And give my love to Vera.”
“’Course I will.”
Being driven over to the cottage gave Alice time to calm herself, as she looked out over the snow white countryside. A hard frost had made the earth look dead. Trees, leafless and lifeless.
It was, Alice thought, a time for Nature’s long sleep. The earth was recovering, and would burst out with fresh young growth in a few months time.
And by that time Alice hoped many other good things would happen.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
VERA was naturally delighted to see a taxi draw up and her mother being helped out of the car by the driver.
As the dogs barked, Mrs Carter made sure she had all her bits and pieces taken into the cottage, while the driver folded the rug that had been over the lady’s legs to keep them warm during the journey, before he waved and headed back to Lynn before it became dark.
“I feel as if a huge weight has been taken off my shoulders,” exclaimed Vera, kissing her mother again.
Alice’s eyes looked at her daughter’s huge belly and smiled as she said, “It won’t be long before you have another weight shifted off you,” she said.
Stroking her bump, Vera said, “I’ll be glad when it’s all over. He is really getting in my way now.”
“You think
it’s going to be a boy, then?”
“Well, I hope so because then he will have his own new clothes and won’t have to keep wearing Deanna’s cast offs.”
Over a cup of tea they had much to discuss. And soon the conversation got around to Geoff’s condition.
“I worry about him, I really do,” said Vera.
Her mother cupped her hands in her face and murmured, “Of course you do, love. I think you have every reason to be worried. That’s why I came to be with you. To see you through this bad patch.”
“Do you think,” Vera stroked the rim of her cup with her finger thoughtfully, “Geoff will be different?”
“Oh yes, he’s bound to be after what he’d been though. And so of course will you be, becoming a mum. You’ll have to renew your marriage I expect as things may be quite different.”
“What if Geoff doesn’t love me anymore?”
“Don’t worry about that now. The hospital is looking after him at present and I doubt if you could do any better for him. When you’ve had your baby and he is coming home you can see how he is, and decided how you can help him. You’ll be given some advice from the doctors, I’m sure.”
Vera’s teeth went over her bottom lip. She didn’t want to succumb to talking about what effects his war injuries might have on Geoff in the long term.
She had her baby due to arrive – and her Mum was with her - which was the best possible comfort she could have.
* * *
“IT’S a boy!”
Vera’s hands covered the tiny body placed on her chest as great relief and tiredness overwhelmed her.
She and Geoff had a son.
The midwife was a no nonsense type of nurse, but for Vera’s first experience of childbirth, she’d given her all the benefit of having delivered hundreds of babies into the world.
Vera’s labour was over. Seeing her baby son a great joy. But there was something important lacking in the completeness of her happiness. Her husband was far away and he should be rejoicing too.
“Have you decide on a name for your baby?” she was asked.
She’d given it some consideration. She really hoped to consult Geoff, but before she’d gone into labour she’d been unable to see him and ask him. The winter weather made it impossible for her to travel by train to visit him in hospital. And the petrol was not available to go by car. So she had to make up her own mind what to call the child.
“Victor,” she replied.
Victor was Geoff’s second name, and she liked it. The child had been born at a time of victory for the Allied forces in Europe. Not that they had beaten the German’s yet - but the outcome would be – as Geoff had told her after D-Day, just a matter of time.
But she still had heartache over Geoff. Still no news of his recovery from being caught in a bomb blast.
Her mother was ecstatic at the birth of her grandson - and so were Geoff’s hotel owning family when they knew. It was a pity they were all living so far from each other they couldn’t rejoice together as a family. Nevertheless, Vera was grateful of her mother’s presence and practical help with looking after her and her child when they got back to the cottage. Keeping the mother and infant warm and washing and drying clothes and nappies wasn’t the easiest chore in a old cottage with only one fire in the range to keep the place warm.
As Vera’s strength returned she was able to take over cooking meals for them, trying to give her elderly mother more chance to rest.
“Whew! I had no idea having a child would involve so much work,” she exclaimed.
“This harsh winter weather doesn’t help matters,” Mum said as she arranged some nappies over a clothes horse near the fire.
“Sit down Mum, I’ll finish that job.”
“I think I can hear Victor crying, you’d better go and see to him.”
It was relentless looking after a baby with wartime restrictions - just one difficulty after another. How she would have managed without her mother’s help Vera just didn’t know. And John too came over to the cottage with some provisions he’d managed to collect for them.
But the pleasures were there too. The child was thriving. And Vera was enjoying being able to run up and down the cottage stairs again.
Only her worry about Geoff kept her from being entirely happy. She desperately wanted him back with her and Victor.
Her contact with the hospital where Geoff was remained as formal correspondence. Vera received a few medical reports on his condition, but Geoff remained too far away for her to visit with her newborn. Trains cram full of soldiers and with no heating, made it unwise for a mother with a baby to travel.
Apart from that Hitler was now sending bombs that exploded over the London area and no one knew where they might land.
“How I wish this hateful war would end,” Vera said as she rocked her baby in her arms. “And it’s about time you met your father young man. He is a very brave man – a very clever engineer – you will be proud of him when you grow up.”
Holding the shawl covered baby she looked out of the cottage window and sighed. She could see the first signs of spring appearing. The sun was out shining over the countryside like a healing balm. Opening the door, the dogs bounded outside first as she walked out onto the grass and spotted a few daisies underfoot. Yes, spring had come.
Vera continued to talk to her son, “The days are longer, nature is waking up, and so must I.”
Victor gurgled.
“It won’t be long before you’ll be out in the garden getting up to mischief.”
His little face formed into a beaming smile.
“So, time has passed by and I must get to see Geoff now. Whatever condition he is in he has had enough time to get better and I must bring him home.”
There were many arrangements to be made before she could leave, and she was so grateful to John who offered to take her to the hospital after collecting as many petrol coupons as was necessary to allow him to get there and back.
* * *
“Heavens above!” declared Vera, looking at the bespectacled Army doctor sitting opposite her on the other side of his large desk. “Of course I don’t expect my husband to be exactly as he was when I married him. A lot of water has gone under the bridge since then. But I do understand what it is like to be in a bombing raid.”
“Not in the heat of battle you don’t, Mrs Parkington.”
“Excuse me, doctor. I was in France - in Normandy - when the invasion took place. I can assure you we were bombed. So I do know what is is like.”
The doctor’s eyes glistened behind his spectacles.
“Hasn’t Geoff told you I was there?”
The doctor leant forward making a pyramid with his fingers. “No. He doesn’t think he has a wife. After all, you haven’t visited him.”
Vera exploded, “How could I? I have just given birth to our child. How could I get down here to see him? Why didn’t you have him moved nearer to our home so that I could? And his parents are unhappy they are not able to visit him either. It’s not that Geoff is not loved. It’s this wretched war that keeps us apart!”
The doctor regarded her sympathetically, “I’m sorry, Mrs Parkington. Because the colonel has been so unresponsive it has been difficult for me to know about your circumstances.” He looked over his shoulder at the bookcase filled with patients’ files. “We have so many mentally ill soldiers to deal with.”
Vera calmed down. She could see his difficulties. He was overworked with many cases needing his care and attention, as well as Geoff’s.
“I haven’t much time to see him,” said Vera, “I must get back this evening . . . what advice can you give me?”
“Really I have none. Every patient is different. They cope with their trauma in different ways. They all need a different amount of time for their minds and bodies to get over the injuries – ”
“He’s had that.”
“It can take months - years.”
Vera swallowed, “Then I’d better see him. I have made arra
ngements to take him home.”
The doctor looked down at Geoff’s file and after leafing through some papers, closed the file and said to her, “It may be the best thing for him. If you feel you can manage to help him over the rest of his convalescence. You will need to be patient with him. But I think you are a sensible woman - a brave woman.”
She wasn’t feeling at all brave when they left the office and began to walk down a long corridor where she noticed men in dressing gowns, some with bandaged heads, arms or legs, sitting and staring into space.
“I’ve put him in here,” said the doctor, “so you can have some privacy.” He knocked and then opened the door for Vera to see a tall man sitting by the window.
“I’ve brought your wife to see you, Colonel Parkington.”
Geoff, she recognised, as he turned his head to face her slowly.
Her heart beat rapidly – he’d become grey haired. His cheeks were sunken and there was no sparkle in his eyes. “I haven’t a wife,” he said with no emotion, “she was killed.”
“I’ll leave you,” said the doctor slipping out of the door.
Vera brought another chair to sit by her husband. And for awhile she looked at him with compassion as he looked away from her.
“Geoff,” she said, “It’s me, Vera.”
He turned to look at her again, and for a moment she thought he recognised her. But there was no other sign that he knew her.
“Vera was killed,” he said dreamily.
“No, she wasn’t!”
He started. “Who are you?”
Vera took his large hand and stroked it. “I’m Vera, the woman who loves you dearly. I’ve come to take you home.”
“I haven’t a home – I haven’t anything – only pain.”
“What about your dog, Battle?”
“Oh yes, I remember now.” His face showed his kindly expression was still there - part of him. “Is he still alive?”
“Of course, and Gyp. Both dogs are waiting for you to take them for a walk in the countryside around the cottage as you used to.”
“I’d like that. But I’ve got a bad foot.”
