Twenty-four hours later the decision finally came. This time for real. On the night of June 5 they left the safe waters of Fowey, Falmouth and the Helford River, and all the other ports along the south coast for the last time and headed out to sea. Operation Overlord was underway at last.
Hugh released Sara from her bedroom the first time they left. Compelled to go along with his tale, she explained her absence to the children by saying that she’d been suffering from ‘flu and had not wished to infect them.
But now she was free and when she was quite certain that he was asleep, Sara slid from their bed, hastily pulled on some clothes, then ran pell-mell up through the church-yard, along the Esplanade, past Point Neptune, skirting the coils of barbed wire on Readymoney beach, slipping and sliding up the coastal path, tripping over stones, nearly falling headlong over the edge into the sea at one stage in her breathless dash to reach the headland beyond the camouflaged castle, and watch them leave.
Gasping for breath, she wrapped her arms about herself and shivered, straining her eyes in the darkness, waiting for the short June night to end so that she could catch a last glimpse of him.
The sea broiled with ships, ensigns snapping in the wind. An armada so massive it was still visible when dawn broke on that longest of all days. Far out to sea the minesweepers led the way, like a great inverted vee, each one trailing a long, saw-toothed wire to cut through the moorings and detonate floating mines. Behind these came the dark, intimidating throng of destroyers and cruisers, protected above by a barrage balloon attached to each ship. To the rear of these came the landing craft, carrying thousands of men, tanks, gun vehicles and ammunition. The convoy stretched for miles and would surely frighten any army destined to be the one to meet and fight it.
But what state would those poor boys be in when they finally landed? Soaking wet through, cold and seasick, she would imagine, expected to climb down some scramble-net, fully loaded with equipment, and fight their way across a beach in the face of enemy fire. What hope could there be for survival against such odds?
Sara could almost hear them praying. She clasped her hands together and prayed with them.
And overhead came the aircraft. The sky seemed to be filled with hundreds of planes. That heart-stopping drone of engines making the hairs stand up at the back of her neck. She’d heard the first wave of bombers go out the night before, yet still they came, like a flock of giant blackbirds, an armada of the skies, as well as the sea.
And somewhere, among all this mass of ships and activity, was Charlie, yet she couldn’t see him, couldn’t reach him. He was lost to her, perhaps for ever. Thanks to Hugh, she hadn’t even been allowed to say goodbye. All she could do was stand and watch, dry-eyed, till the last dark speck had vanished from the horizon. Only then did she turn and walk back into a town swamped by an eerie silence; back home to her husband and a life without Charlie.
Chapter Thirty-Five
When Bette had arrived at the farm she’d been barely three months gone. Now, nearly two months later, still no mention had been made of a date for their wedding, let alone a place of their own. Relations with his family remained difficult and, so far as she could tell, Chad still hadn’t told them about the baby. Yet it couldn’t be hidden for much longer. She was beginning to show and this troubled Bette deeply.
What if Chad refused to marry her in the end, then what would she do, where could she go? She’d be alone in a foreign land with no money and a child to keep. It didn’t bear thinking of.
Once, in those early weeks, she’d tried tackling the subject head on. ‘Your mom seems awfully protective, maybe a bit reluctant to let go.’
‘We’re a very close family.’
‘Mine were glad to see the back of me, I should think.’ Bette had laughed, trying to make light of it. ‘But we should have our own place. I don’t honestly think it will work, us all living here together. Your mother is – lovely, but she has enough with your brother and sister and her family, without us as well.’
Chad frowned, which didn’t exactly fill her with confidence. ‘Trouble is, there ain’t that many empty houses round these parts. Haven’t you heard of the housing shortage? Goes right back to the lean twenties.’
Bette began to feel distinctly uneasy. ‘But with all this land you own, couldn’t we build a house on it somewhere?’
‘Building a house takes a whole heap of money. You’ll jest have to be patient awhile. Besides, I can’t work, let alone build us a house with one arm, now can I?’
And once again Bette was left feeling she’d said the wrong thing.
Chad resisted every effort she made to help him, whether it was fastening the buttons of his shirt, tying his shoe laces, or cutting up his meat. Peggy was allowed to help, but not Bette, for some reason.
And still he’d made no effort to touch her.
‘You are glad I came, aren’t you?’ she asked him one night as he again refused her assistance in undressing for bed.
‘Course I am.’
‘I was wondering . . . I mean . . . isn’t it time we fixed a date for the wedding?’ She put out a hand and stroked the stub of his arm, feeling him instantly flinch away from her. ‘You’d perhaps feel more comfortable with me then, if we were man and wife, and we do need to think of the baby.’
His response was uncharacteristically sharp. ‘I’ve already told you, we can’t get married yet awhile.’
‘You haven’t told her yet, have you?’
Bette was surprised to see his neck and jaw suffuse with crimson. ‘I’ll tell her when the time seems right.’
Bette could hardly believe what she was hearing. ‘When the time is right, and when will that be? You’re saying that I’ve left my home, my family and friends, to travel thousands of miles to marry you and you can’t bring yourself to tell your family that I’m carrying your child?’ A shard of ice stabbed between her shoulder blades and she turned away from him. ‘You don’t mean to marry me at all, don’t you Chad Jackson? Is this all some sort of cruel joke? Have you realised that you’ve made a bad mistake in asking me to come here?’
‘No, no, I want you to stay, Bette. S’matter of fact, I’m surprised that you came. I reckoned mebbe you’d stay with Barney.’
‘Why would I do that?’ Bette could hear the slow beat of her heart. Had he guessed? Surely he didn’t suspect the truth?
‘Barney allus was sweet on you. Told me time and again how you was too fancy for a country-boy like me.’
‘That’s silly. I’m just a small town girl myself, a two-bit hairdresser.’ She tried to make a joke of it but Chad wasn’t laughing. He was lying on his back staring at the ceiling.
‘He took you out some, I expect. Dancing and such-like.’
Bette steadied her breathing, desperate to sound casual. ‘We went to the Armoury from time to time, just as friends you understand.’ She could tell that he’d turned his head to look at her, and was grateful for the semi-darkness yet felt it necessary to defend him. ‘He was the perfect southern gent. You’d have been proud of him.’ She felt, rather than heard, his sigh of relief.
‘He wrote me to say he wouldn’t be returning to North Carolina. He’d be going some place else when the war was over an’ all. I reckon he doesn’t fancy the idea of seeing you dangling on my arm, ‘stead of his. Though since I’ve only the one, I ain’t such a good bet as a husband no more. Must sicken you to the stomach jest to have to lie beside me in this big ole bed.’
He wasn’t looking at her as he said all of this but Bette would have been a fool not to recognise the heartrending vulnerability in these words.
She pulled him round to face her, grasped his face between her two hands. ‘Look at me, Chad Jackson. You’re my man, right? I’ve travelled half round the world to be with you. Maybe we both feel a bit insecure, me having left my home and family, you with your injuries, but don’t for one minute imagine that you aren’t important to me, arm or no arm.’
‘Barney is generally the one who gets t
he girl.’
‘Well, he didn’t this time. So when are you going to make an honest woman of me?’
Now his sigh was heavily regretful. ‘She can be real ornery, my Mom. I would have told her by now, about the baby, only . . . It’s jest that she’s a Christian, church-going woman. Don’t do to offend her none. She done preach that bible at me more times than I care to recall, if I’m honest.’
Bette couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved that in the matter of religion at least, they were in total agreement. It had come as quite a shock being obliged to attend church every Sunday in her best frock, hat and gloves, with her face scrubbed all clean and not a touch of pan-stick. ‘So what about offending me? Don’t you care about my reputation?’
He reached across the chasm of the great bed and stroked her hand, lingering a little before he withdrew it. ‘Sure I care, hon. How can you think such a thing? I can hardly wait for us to be wed. Don’t you know that I worship the ground you walk on. You and me is gonna be real cosy together. I’ll be a good husband to you, Bette, I swear it.’
She wriggled closer, curling up beside him to whisper softly in his ear, not wishing to quarrel but anxious to make her point. ‘But you’re not, are you, love? You’re not my husband at all, not even my lover, but folk don’t know that, do they? If people knew that we still weren’t married, they’d take me for some sort of tart, living here, sleeping with you and still unwed. If your mother is as bible-loving as you say, how come she puts up with it?’
‘Because she thinks you’ll up and leave any day.’
Bette was shocked to the core. ‘What? Is that what all this is about? You won’t name the day because your mom thinks I might leave? Where would I go? I can’t even get to town unless someone drives me in the pick-up. I’m stuck here. Trapped.’
‘That ain’t no way to look at things. You are happy, aren’t you, hon?’
He sounded so intense and worried that Bette took pity on him, as she always did, put her arms around his too thin shoulders and hugged him tight. ‘Of course I am, at least, I’m sure I could be. Big and empty as this country is, I think I might get to quite like America. I might even come to like your sassy, difficult family, if they’ll let me. Come on, let’s snuggle up so’s I can kiss you. It’s long past time we were lovers again, as we once used to be, don’t you think?’
‘Aw, hon, I’m not sure I can, not yet.’
‘We could try. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, isn’t that what they say?’ She wanted to show him that she cared, that he was truly important to her.
Bette began to kiss him, to stroke the rough brown hair, smooth a hand over his broad shoulders and down his chest, feeling the tension in him as her fingers grazed his skin, a quiver of longing run through him. She didn’t touch the stub, the place where the strong muscles ended leaving the flap of empty flesh which for some reason shamed him.
He began to relax a little, to respond to her kisses, even cupped her breast in a sweet caress but then took his hand away, slid it awkwardly around her waist and then on her thigh, as if not quite knowing how to hold her and love her at the same time.
Bette longed to love him in her heart, truly and deeply as she once had, not just go through the physical motions, but her mind was filled with Barney. Even though he’d rejected her in the end, it was Barney’s kisses she longed for, his hands she wanted to caress her. Chad was holding back, she could sense it. Was he too waiting for that thrill which had once pulsated between them like an electric storm. Where had all that emotion gone? Had the war destroyed that too? And then suddenly, without warning, he turned abruptly away, to lie with his back to her.
‘It ain’t gonna work, not tonight. I’m too tired and we don’t want to hurt the baby none. We’ll leave it for now, till we’re wed, or the baby’s born.’
Bette blinked back a blur of tears. She knew it was her fault. She’d been thinking too much of Barney and he’d sensed her lack of interest. How difficult it was to put the past behind her, to love two men after all.
At length, when she was more in control of her emotions, she snuggled closer and whispered to his unyielding back. ‘Would you like me to tell Peggy about the baby? I don’t mind. She has to be told some time, then we can get on with planning the wedding. I’ll choose the right moment and be very gentle, I promise. Maybe then things will get better for us. Shall I try?’
She took his silence as assent but was quite certain that neither of them slept much that night.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The skies were still filled with bombers but the streets of the town were strangely quiet now that the Yanks had gone, ominously so. People walked about in silence, hardly speaking, their eyes constantly glancing out to sea as if willing the Armada to appear on the horizon, to come home safe.
Sara felt empty and alone and Hugh had scarcely spoken a word to her since they’d left. The subject of her betrayal had, apparently, been swept under the carpet and the illusion that they were a devoted couple continued as before.
The thought of Charlie waiting for her in vain at St Catherine’s Castle, as she guessed he would have been, filled her with anguish. Did he think that she’d abandoned him in his hour of need? Perhaps he went off to war believing that she no longer loved him. Oh, she did hope not. That was far too terrible a prospect to contemplate. Surely he would realise that she’d tried but that something had occurred to prevent her.
Underneath this awesome silence, there was an air of anticipation, a bubble of excitement, the whole town waiting for news, glued to the wireless, listening for John Snag’s voice to give them some hint of what was happening on the front line.
Confirmation came at nine-thirty on the morning of the sixth when the familiar voice announced that D-Day had come. ‘Early this morning the Allies began the assault on the north-western face of Hitler’s European fortress.’
The town seemed to erupt in jubilant cheers. People threw impromptu parties in the street, danced and kissed and hugged perfect strangers who passed by.
Even Nora Snell popped into The Ship for a port and lemon to drink a toast to Montgomery. Sadie brought round a game pie that she’d made specially, and family and friends ate together that night, to celebrate, Cory declaring he was itching to be out there on the sea with them, that he’d knock the spots off those blooming Germans if he got the chance.
Later they all listened to the king together as he told them that ‘After nearly five years of toil and suffering we must renew that crusading impulse on which we entered the war and met its darkest hours.’ He exhorted them all to pray as the great crusade got underway, and they did, Sara amongst them. There was little else left for them to do now.
More than eleven thousand aircraft, four thousand ships and over three hundred thousand men were out there fighting the last battle. If they didn’t win this one, the war would indeed be over and they would be the losers.
News spread around Fowey’s streets like wild fire over the next few days: that France had been liberated, that General de Gaulle was encouraging his compatriots to fight on and win, that the Americans were fighting tough opposition on the road to Cherbourg, hampered by floods.
Then just as news filtered through that enemy E-Boats sheltering in Le Havre had been attacked by Bomber Command, Hamil Charke came dashing into the pub one evening to announce that his cousin in London, together with his entire family, had been killed by a new sort of flying bomb, called a V1.
‘It’s raining with the damn things all over London.’ This terrible news silenced everyone. The war wasn’t over yet.
Iris was growing increasingly uneasy and hastily reminded Hugh on the vital importance of keeping his mouth shut about their clandestine activities, speaking in whispers under her breath as she smiled at the customers and pulled pints. ‘I’ve checked with the SOE and there might be the odd mission left to do, bringing agents out, I should think. After that we’re on our own, and your silence is still a requirement, understood? The French Resistance are wo
rking harder than ever against the occupying forces, while our collaborators are fleeing for their lives, so that side of our work is over and done with, unfortunately.’
Hugh became very still. ‘Are you saying that we too are in danger?’
‘Not if we keep our mouths shut!’
‘It’s your fault that I’m in this situation. You were the one who got me involved in this.’
‘You got yourself involved when you left those men to die,’ she snapped at him. ‘I did what I had to do, for my husband, for what I believe in. What’s your excuse?’
Hugh had no answer. He’d never really thought the matter through to its logical conclusion. His one object had always been to survive, to save his own skin. He quickly changed the subject, casting about for someone else to blame, as was his wont. ‘What about the money you promised me? I’ve not seen a penny of that yet.’
Iris frowned, clearly irritated. ‘We can talk about that later,’ and chose this moment to tell Hugh that once their last mission had been accomplished, she’d be leaving, going to live with her mother in Truro. ‘Better if we’re not seen to communicate in future. You can have Sara back behind the bar now the Yanks have gone for good, can’t you? It’s nearly over.’
Hugh felt a surge of disappointment, suffering a sense almost of anti-climax. Despite the danger and the terrors he’d had to endure, there’d been some exciting, thrilling times that he’d thoroughly enjoyed, particularly with Iris. At least until she’d put a stop to their fun and games.
He smoothed a hand over her backside and gave it a little squeeze as she stood sipping a celebratory sherry. ‘We’ve had some fun, you and me. Couldn’t we have one more, for the road?’
For All Our Tomorrows Page 27
