The Returning Tide

by Liz Fenwick

  ‘Football?’

  ‘American football. Do you want to come and watch?’

  ‘I’d love to but I’m on the eight-to-four shift tomorrow.’ I gave him a rueful grin.

  ‘I could ask the commander.’

  I frowned.

  He tilted his head to the side and grinned. ‘It would help with cultural understanding.’

  I laughed. ‘Are you playing?’

  ‘Yes, I’m the quarterback.’

  ‘And that is?’

  For the next half-hour Bobby tried to explain the intricacies of American football to me. I understood nothing but the sound of his voice and his excitement about the game. The bell rang for last orders and he stood to walk me back to the train. Outside, the night was cold and dark without a moon or stars.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked, as we reached the train station. ‘You’ve been so silent.’

  ‘You,’ I said as we stepped onto the platform.

  ‘Me?’ He stopped just short of the queue.

  ‘Hmm, yes. You seem to fill most of my thoughts when I’m not working.’

  ‘Excellent.’ He pulled me into his arms. ‘Here’s something to be thinking about.’

  His mouth touched mine. Warmth spread though me as he left a trail of kisses across my cheek to my ear lobe.

  Just then, the guard called, ‘All on board!’ and Bobby helped me into the carriage. I leaned out of the window.

  ‘Wish us luck.’ He grabbed my hand.

  ‘But I’m in the Navy,’ I said as the train began to pull away.

  ‘I know, but we’re on the same side in the war.’

  ‘Yes,’ I called into the darkness, laughing.

  12 March 1944

  I stood on the side of the field with Dot, hardly believing that I’d been able to swap shifts around at the last minute. It did mean I would be on the midnight-until-eight shift, but seeing the delight on Bobby’s face made the thought of a sleepless night worth it. There would be time for sleep later.

  ‘Look at that grin. Someone’s happy to see you.’ Dot gently elbowed me.

  ‘He’s always smiling.’

  Dot turned from the field to make a face at me. ‘No, he’s not. I’ve seen him around when you haven’t been near and I would say he’s a serious soul.’ She laughed. ‘You bring out the smiles in him. And, for that matter, he does in you.’ We watched the coin toss, after which the ball was handed to Bobby. ‘You’re two of a kind. Serious and hard-working but lightening each other up. He’s just not the same when you aren’t around.’

  The whistle blew. Bobby kicked the ball and both teams converged into action. I didn’t know where to look. The ball was thrown forward and I expected to hear a whistle but there was none. I watched bemused, flinching each time Bobby was tackled despite the padding he was wearing.

  I tried to remember the things he’d told me about the game the previous night but I apparently hadn’t taken in a word because it made no sense. I’d expected it to be like rugby but it wasn’t at all. Bobby caught the ball when one of the Navy players threw it and ran towards the goal.

  ‘Go, Army!’ I jumped up and down.

  Dot nudged me. ‘You are standing here dressed as a member of the British Navy … shouting “Go, Army”. It might not be what you want to be doing.’

  I blushed.

  Dot laughed. ‘Just because you’re in love doesn’t mean that you can support the Army.’ She arched an eyebrow.

  ‘I’m not in love.’

  ‘You could have fooled me,’ she said, and laughed again at my indignant expression.

  HMS Attack, Portland, Dorset

  9 April 1944

  As was frequently the case when Easter was in April, the weather was foul. Christ may have risen but everything else was being battered down by the rain as I stood outside the church following the service. Just as I decided to make a dash for it across the road, a horn blared at me and there was a squeal of brakes.

  ‘Do you need a ride?’ Bobby leaned out of the jeep that had just come to a halt. His smile caught my heart. I ran over and hopped in. Raindrops rested on his long eyelashes and rolled down his cheeks. I lifted my hand to wipe them away, my fingers stilling on his cheekbone. A horn sounded behind us and I drew my hand and my glance away.

  ‘Where are you headed?’

  ‘Just off to a meeting, but I have time to drop you off.’ His hand reached out for mine for a second before he changed gears and set the jeep in motion.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I thought you might be heading to church.’

  ‘The padre held a sunrise Mass in the camp this morning.’

  ‘Mass – do you mean communion service?’ The jeep bumped along the road, avoiding the other vehicles.

  He smiled. ‘I’m Catholic.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Is that a problem?’

  I looked out at the rain. The visibility was deteriorating and I could barely make out the buildings on the quayside as we passed them. ‘No, it’s just another difference.’

  We arrived back at the quarters and he pulled the jeep to a halt. ‘I don’t think the meeting will take long. Are you free?’

  I nodded. ‘Not sure what we can do.’

  ‘Certainly not go for a walk, but I’m sure we’ll find something. Shall I meet you here in an hour and a half?’

  ‘Yes.’ I was about to leave but then I turned to him. ‘You’re not married, are you?’

  His face was a picture. ‘No.’

  ‘I just wanted to be sure.’

  ‘Well, be sure,’ he said.

  ‘Good.’ Smiling, I ran to the door and watched the jeep speed away, sending water flying in all directions. Within moments he was lost in the rain, and I steadied myself as I turned around and brushed the beaded drops off my shoulders. He was Catholic. Another gap had opened in front of us, just when I’d begun to find my way around his nationality.

  14 April 1944

  It had been almost a week since I’d last seen Bobby, with nothing more than messages and one telephone call in between, and I was restless. The atmosphere around us was fraught as more ships arrived and the harbour became an even busier hive of activity. Everyone except me was smoking almost continuously and the amount of coffee consumed had doubled. Hands practically shook with the effects of the caffeine and the will to stay alert and listening in the long hours of the night. It was funny how you could almost drift off – and then, like a lover whispering your name, adrenaline ran through your body with the dit dah of the call sign. Everything tensed and all energy focused on listening, writing and responding. I’d come to realise that during those long hours my mind moved totally into Morse, my thoughts converting every sound without even thinking about it. Coming off a shift, it wasn’t until I had taken in the fresh air that my brain reverted to English, but even after that there would still be traces, as something like the click of the train on the tracks nearby would tell me something. Morse code had become the language of my subconscious, especially after an eight-hour shift when the tension was high.

  Tonight was no different. It had been filled with faulty transmitters and crowded wireless frequencies. My head was swimming. I tried not to nod off during the breaks, but it did happen. Suddenly my head would fling up with the dah dit dah dah … And suddenly I barely had enough time to tear off the message and carbon copy for the coder before the next message began.

  As I stood outside the tunnels I realised that this past week everything had become tenser. We had begun to make guesses as more American troops had arrived. HMS Attack and HMS Boscawen in Castletown were swamped with Yanks. Beyond me, the land sloped gently down to the docks and I could just make out Henry VIII’s fort at the edge of the harbour. This place had been vital for the defence of England for a very long time. Mulberry harbours were lined up in view and battleships dotted the sea. It all spoke of readiness.

  Commander Rowse had left a message for me to see him when my shift was finished. I was slightly in aw
e of him. The commander was a naval man through and through; it ran in his blood. His face was stern and darkly handsome. One could, in a flight of fancy, picture him as a pirate off the coast of Cornwall, which was where he originally came from.

  Even the blast of fresh air as I’d emerged from the tunnels hadn’t blown the cobwebs away. Only some sleep would. Yawning, I sat outside Commander Rowse’s office with my hands folded neatly on my lap and my ankles crossed. To the best of my knowledge I’d done nothing wrong; if I had, it wouldn’t be the commander speaking to me but the WRNS first officer.

  In the background I heard footsteps – dit dah dit dah dit. My finger began tapping on my knee.

  ‘They will see you now.’ A Wren clutching files hurried down the corridor. I wiped my palms on my skirt, wondering who they were, and walked into the commander’s office.

  ‘Seaton.’ WRNS First Officer Smith spoke and I stood to attention in front of the three people in the room, one of them an American captain.

  ‘As you are aware, the Americans are here in force now.’ Commander Rowse nodded to the squat captain who stood by the window while First Officer Smith was seated by the desk. ‘And it’s our job to make sure that things work smoothly.’ He stood and moved towards the chart on the wall. ‘After discussions with First Officer Smith and Captain Harris, you have been selected to work with the American telegraphists who are arriving as we speak.’

  The captain smiled. ‘There has been nothing but praise for your work.’

  I nodded, unsure how to respond.

  ‘You are being promoted to a leading Wren.’ First Officer Smith didn’t show any emotion. I couldn’t tell if this was being done with her approval or not. I wanted to smile, thinking of the killick – the anchor – embroidered in bright blue thread against the navy of my sleeve. I would now outrank my sister and I would have been lying to myself if I hadn’t admitted this gave me a thrill.

  ‘Tomorrow you will report at 0800 hours to Captain Harris, where you will begin working with the new telegraphists and accustoming yourself to their equipment.’ He picked up the phone. I nodded and left the room. Gone was the coming excitement of an evening with Bobby tomorrow, and in its place was the fear of the overwhelming task ahead of me.

  Weymouth, Dorset

  15 April 1944

  ‘Congratulations, Leading Wren Seaton.’ Bobby was waiting slightly apart from the others when I stepped off the liberty boat.

  ‘Thank you.’ I glanced at my sleeve. It was still a surprise to see the anchor. ‘Not used to it.’

  He laughed. ‘From what I hear, you’re the top telegraphist.’

  I frowned. I knew I was fast, and most importantly accurate, but how did he know?

  ‘Don’t look so concerned. I heard from Commander Rowse.’ He slipped my arm into his. ‘He thinks very highly of you.’

  ‘This secondment to your side says that.’ I stopped walking. ‘Did you have anything to do with it?’

  He bent down and whispered, ‘No, I have nothing to do with the Navy. I’m just a messenger. But the commander has seen us together so it came up in polite conversation.’ He chuckled. ‘Or maybe not so polite. He told me to behave myself and – in short – that you were not that type of girl.’

  I pulled back, trying to read the expression on Bobby’s face. I’m not sure what I was more shocked by, the commander’s comments or Bobby’s.

  ‘I told him that I would take very good care of you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I moved closer to him again and breathed in the scent of soap and mint. His warmth travelled through the fabric of our uniforms.

  ‘You’ve gone quiet.’

  I nodded. It felt strange to be heading to the dance hall in daylight. When I’d arrived in December the journey had been in darkness, but now I could see the boarded-up shopfronts and blacked-out houses. I didn’t have to navigate by sound but could see the way. In the twilight the effects of the war were visible. In front of a bombsite, daffodils bloomed in a pot as if in defiance, a splash of cheerful colour in the landscape. But war wasn’t normal. We’d been at war for so long, I wondered if I remembered what normal was. ‘Do you think this war will ever end?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ He stopped walking, letting the others move further away from us. ‘I have to believe that we will win and all that everyone has given their lives for will return.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’

  ‘Have faith.’ He pulled me into his arms and I rested my head against his shoulder.

  ‘I try, but sometimes it’s so difficult.’

  ‘That’s true of all of us.’

  ‘Come on, you two.’ Pat and her American had emerged out of a side street and gestured to us. I frowned at her, but we walked with them to the dance hall. I’d come to love and loathe the Saturday dances. If Bobby was here then it was magic to be in his arms, dancing to anything. If he was away, which happened more and more, then they were a trial. I didn’t want to dance with other men. Time was too precious.

  ‘Fools Rush In (Where Angels Fear to Tread)’ was playing as we entered. Bobby took me onto the dance floor and sang along to the words. Dot was right – I was in love. But was he in love with me? Or was I just someone to pass the time with, to make the war less harsh? How could I tell?

  The song ended and we joined Dot and Bobby’s fellow officers at a table. I tried to study him, but I was swiftly taken to the dance floor by another American – a Californian who was missing his wife and son terribly. He rarely let on, but I’d seen it when he showed me a photograph of them. How hard the separation must be. Would I be strong enough to bear it when it was my turn?

  He led me back to the table and Bobby was missing. I couldn’t find him in the crowd but I did see some of the women I’d be working with. They were grouped together with a bevy of men around them. I knew it was my duty to go and speak to them. Straightening my jacket, I set off across the hall, avoiding men’s eyes. If I met their glance I’d be dancing before I could speak.

  The women looked up and smiled shyly before they stood straighter. I cringed. I’d ruined their evening by coming over. ‘Hello.’ I forced a bright smile onto my face. ‘Hope you’re having a good evening.’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ The one I pegged as the leader spoke with such a thick accent I struggled to understand her if she went too quickly. I believed she said she was from New Jersey.

  ‘I imagine it’s all a bit different from home.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said one of the quietest, and I hid my surprise.

  The music began and I felt Bobby’s hand on my shoulder. ‘Excuse me, ladies. I’m stealing her away for this dance.’

  It was ‘I Only Have Eyes For You’. I thought of it as our song. Bobby’s deep baritone sang along quietly as he swept me around the floor, avoiding the other couples. I closed my eyes and tried to forget my new team and the thick smoke filling the air. I tried to pretend it was just the two of us. But despite his hand resting lightly against my waist and the feel of his heartbeat under my cheek, the world intruded. I found myself thinking about the space that had been made in the tunnels for my team. It was more cramped than the wireless room next door but somehow we had managed to fit all the equipment in. It hadn’t taken me long to adjust to it.

  Bobby pulled me closer. ‘You’re not here with me,’ he whispered. His breath tickling my neck brought me back to the here and now, away from the logistical nightmare in front of me. It was hard not to think about it – I had spent the past two days going through things with Captain Harris and my team, and I now had so much responsibility, not just for my own work but for that of others. I swallowed.

  ‘Sorry.’ I tilted my head up and smiled.

  ‘Hmmm.’ He held me a little tighter. ‘Anything I can help with?’

  Sighing, I rested my head against his shoulder as the music changed. ‘Sadly no.’

  ‘Should we take a walk?’

  The thought of the clear night and the cold breeze was far more tempting than being in a
smoky hall with so many other people. Admittedly, being alone in the darkness with Bobby was not conducive to logical thought, but all the noise and motion was muddling my thoughts. I needed clarity, not the jitterbug.

  Bundled into our coats, we left the noise of the hall behind and walked arm in arm down the street towards the esplanade. I tried to picture it as it was before the war, without the barbed wire and other defences, but couldn’t.

  As we passed other military personnel and heard the sounds of aircraft overhead, I knew I needed to focus on the here and now, or at least on Bobby. ‘What are your plans when the war is over?’

  ‘Now that’s a provocative question,’ he said.

  ‘Is it?’ I tilted my head to the side and squinted into the darkness. I couldn’t see his expression.

  ‘Are you talking concrete plans or dreams?’

  I stopped walking. ‘Both, I think.’

  ‘Ah.’ He turned and pulled me close to him. ‘Now, my dreams all involve you, a house by the sea and at least three children.’

  My breath caught. What he was saying was madness but my heart beat faster, as if it was trying to escape and join with his. His thoughts so matched my own but I wasn’t sure how we had come to this point so quickly. ‘You’re teasing me.’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s what keeps me focused. The dream that after this nightmare is over I could have a normal life with you.’

  ‘What would you want with a woman like me?’

  ‘A long life to enjoy it all with you.’ He leant down and I knew what was about to happen. I stood on tiptoes, bringing us closer together. A cold breeze swirled around my ankles. I shivered as his mouth met mine. Our bodies locked together against the icy wind and the world. A hunger grew in me, so great. I wanted him, all of him.

  ‘Evening, you two lovebirds.’

  ‘Tucker.’ Bobby held me closer. ‘Terrible timing as always.’

  ‘True, my gift in life, I’m afraid. Have to drag you away.’ We began walking and Captain Tucker joined us along the esplanade, our pace quickening.