by Liz Fenwick
30 April 1944
Dot walked beside me to our quarters. We’d been to church. I tried to pray but sat in silence and mouthed the hymns. Two days had passed, and the weather was still grim – I hoped the sun would arrive soon to burn the mist away. Despite being late April, it felt like it was winter. Not even the hymns could lift the gloom inside me.
‘This is the second day the flag’s been at half-mast.’ Dot looked out to a boat in the harbour. ‘Do you think it’s because of all the young Americans that were brought in the other day?’
I shrugged. There was nothing I could say. I wished I didn’t know. There had been no word from Bobby.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked as we entered our cabin. ‘No – stupid question, isn’t it?’
I nodded. She’d heard from her flyboy yesterday so all was fine in her world. Mine was focused on my job. My heart veered from one side to the other. Had I listened to my own advice and not fallen for Bobby then I wouldn’t be in this position. I wouldn’t know what love was or about its loss. Once we reached the common room, I opened the letter I had received from Amelia. I hadn’t had a chance to look at it before.
28 April 1944
Dearest Delly,
Eddie’s last leave was cancelled and he hopes he can get leave in the middle of May. Hopefully we can be married then. I know it’s insanity but I just want the security of knowing he’s mine, truly mine. He thinks I’m mad and that we should wait until this wretched war is over but he says he’s happy to marry me today or tomorrow or any old day if that’s what I want. Mother is quiet about it and I’m concerned about that, but Grandmother is all for a wartime wedding.
I smiled as I looked out the window. Yes, Grandmother would approve of Amelia marrying Eddie Carew. She might even think the match improved my chances but my heart belonged to one man. There would be no one else.
I am worried about Mother. She is very distracted and doesn’t want to talk to Father when he calls. I think she’s beside herself with worry. Do call her if you have a chance. I know you will say that it’s me she listens to, but believe me when I say she’s not listening.
If you can get some leave and see her that would be wonderful.
Other news – I still adore my job although everyone is tense. I spend a lot of time with a rear admiral and when we began he was chatty but now he sits in the car in silence. That says it all.
I went to a dance in the village last night. The Americans are charming and it provided some light relief from the tension at home. Yes, I’m talking about Mother again. She is fine when she is focused on things for the Red Cross but once that is done we lose her. I don’t know what to do.
Aunt Margaret rang and was very chatty. Uncle Reg seems to be fine from what she had to say but there was something odd in her tone when speaking about him.
I miss you terribly. With you here this wretched waiting could be bearable but it’s not. I feel your fear. Won’t you share it with me?
I love you
Xxxx
I folded her letter. Tonight I would ring Mother. I might be able to get some leave in May. It was unbearable to even think about missing Amelia’s wedding. It was hard enough when they had their engagement celebration without me. Of course I understood, but that didn’t stop the disappointment. So much of our lives recently had happened without each other. The separation felt wrong yet I knew in my heart that this would widen as time moved on. Amelia and I would be apart. It had to happen but I hadn’t really considered it before. I took a deep breath and felt a stab of something like fear.
I hadn’t heard from Bobby. Anyone that knew him seemed to be avoiding me. The casualty figure was high and I had to accept that Bobby was dead. The pain cut through me as I took out some paper and started to write.
Dearest Half,
I haven’t told you much about the man I love and now I’m writing to tell you he’s dead. I can’t say more because, well, I can’t.
I don’t know where to put my grief so I focus on work and I walk and walk. My friends are worried but they are giving me a wide berth, sensing that I don’t want to talk about it. Why didn’t I listen to my own words and not even look at a man until this wretched war was over? What am I going to do? Why does love hurt so much? How do you bear having Eddie so far away and never knowing if he’s safe or not?
I want to write to his family but I can’t. I long to make some connection but we haven’t even spoken of our feelings to each other properly. I doubt he’d even mentioned me in a letter home. What if they don’t know yet? I can’t say any more but I feel broken in two from the inside. Pain is seeping into everything that once held happiness.
I’m sorry to hear Mother isn’t well. She was always prone to be blue. It must be hard for her to be so far from Father. In hindsight she should have opted to spend the war in London with Aunt Margaret, who seems to be having a marvellous time despite Uncle Reg being so far away.
Missing you but you know that.
Love you xx
HMS Attack, Portland, Dorset
6 May 1944
‘I won’t take no for an answer.’ Pat stood by my chair in the galley. ‘You’re coming ashore and going to the dance. It’s your duty.’
I glared at her but she wouldn’t leave. I looked at the book and tea beside me. She was right. I needed to do this. Bobby wouldn’t want me to just sit in my room. Besides, it was here that my every quiet moment was haunted by dreams filled with the words of dying men. I had to assume that Bobby was one of them. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll come.’
‘That’s better.’ I made a face at her but she ducked around me. ‘Right then – we’ll catch the liberty boat and you will have a good time.’
‘I will have a time,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure “good” will be a part of it.’
Swearing drifted up through the floorboards of the galley. The language of the sailors imprisoned on the floor below had enlarged my vocabulary. Many times I’d had to ask Pat the meaning of a few of them, which was most embarrassing. We smiled at each other and Pat tucked her arm in mine as we set off. The evening was warm and clear and the hillside was covered with gorse.
Sitting by the window on the liberty boat I looked at the sliver of the moon appearing from behind a cloud. I needed to be positive. Even if my world had died with Bobby, I still had to go on. Scenery blurred outside the window but I would not cry.
On reaching Weymouth the crowd coming off the liberty boat was full of high spirits. I lingered towards the back, looking at the beach. The tide was out and I longed to walk its length. My glance caught Captain Tucker’s. He was waiting for his latest conquest. He smiled at me. It was the first time he’d made eye contact since he’d told me he had no news of Bobby. I began to walk with the crowd. A breeze swept down the narrow street from the sea and stirred my hair, loosening a few tendrils. I shivered, then stopped when I felt a hand touch my arm.
‘Adele.’
Bobby’s deep voice moved through me. For a moment I was rooted to the spot, willing my heart to beat. Tears filled my eyes.
I turned.
‘You’re … here,’ I whispered.
He had a large scar across his forehead. My hands reached up and made contact with his skin. It was real and warm and not just the workings of my imagination in the dark hours of the night.
He brought my fingers to his mouth. ‘Yes, just in time to dance with you.’
My chest contracted. To be in his arms again. I closed my eyes for a moment then opened them wide, not wanting to miss a second of seeing him. I could barely breathe let alone speak. ‘Yes.’ I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him close before I kissed him like I never had before.
Twenty-Three
Mawnan Church, Mawnan Smith, Falmouth, Cornwall
12 September 2015
The shade from the tree provided relief. The air was steamy from the intensity of the September sun. Guests were milling about and I took comfort from their number and their attire. There was no
similarity to my sister’s wedding other than the date, the location and the sunshine. Fred’s brothers were making light work of fitting all the people into the church. I rather suspected it would be standing room only at the back.
The car filled with the bridesmaids, young and old, had just arrived. Happy chaos ensued with the children running free among the gravestones – dashes of bright colour spinning round and round. Yes, it was so different from seventy years ago, when all had been solemn and there had been only a few guests to witness the event. Today would be wonderful.
The car carrying Peta and Jack arrived shortly after. He stepped out, so handsome and so serious. Opening the door for his sister, he held out a hand to assist. Her foot shod in a glittering blue shoe appeared, followed by the beautiful smiling bride. Peta radiated something beyond happiness – contentment. She stood beside her brother and kissed his cheek, leaving bright marks that she wiped with her fingers. With a hankie he cleaned her hand then his face, giving her a lopsided grin. My heart released. Today would be fine. I breathed easier.
A squeal emerged from one of the young bridesmaids and Fred’s youngest brother took my arm then led me from the safety of the tree into the church. The sweet perfume of the lilies mingled with the quiet chatter as everyone waited for Peta. Fred stood by the altar with wide eyes, only looking at the door. The organ began its first tentative notes and the congregation rose. The energy of the young attendants burst through the door followed by the more sedate parade of the bridesmaids, all four of them looking beautiful, especially Peta’s latest acquisition, Demi. Her beauty almost eclipsed the bride but as Peta walked through the door, tall and proud at her brother’s side, nothing could dim her loveliness or her peace. Peace was a funny word to come to mind but there was a serenity to her that couldn’t be denied.
Fred’s smile lit the church brighter than the sunlight streaming through the window. I caught sight of Tamsin, Fred’s mother, on the other side of the aisle, dabbing her cheeks. Her husband Anthony was moved as well. Tears slipped down my face, too. I wished Andrew were here.
Someone slipped into the pew beside me and grabbed my hand. It was Eddie. God, he was a sight for my tired eyes. Ninety-four years old and he was still trim and dapper in his morning suit. He leaned forward.
‘Hello, Delly. Looking beautiful as always.’
‘You old rogue,’ I whispered back, smiling at his use of the endearment. It had been a long time since anyone called me Delly.
He kissed my cheek as Peta and Jack passed us. Jack was pale but a fleeting smile hovered on his mouth. When he handed Peta to Fred, his shoulders dropped down a bit – one of his tasks today completed. He slid into the pew beside me and grabbed my hand. Surrounded by men I loved, some of Peta’s peace reached my heart.
The ceremony had gone beautifully and the singing from the young soprano, Hannah, hadn’t left a dry eye in the house, except for Jack. It was good to see local talent flourish. I understood she was off to university next week to study history but would continue her singing as well. Jack had remained restless throughout the service. His nerves were palpable. When I tried to speak to him on the short journey to the house, he wasn’t listening. All he needed to do was raise a glass and toast them, no more.
People were spilling out across the lawn clutching their champagne glasses and sampling Helford oysters. Peta had wanted to make the whole event as local as possible. I understood the beef was from the farm next to us and the lamb came from another one near to the RNAS Culdrose. Everything looked as it should. Jack wandered off, probably needing a moment of peace. His sister was now a married woman. He was no longer responsible for her, not that Peta had ever let him believe he had been. He’d tried to watch her every step since the moment George had died and left them orphaned.
‘Mrs Rowse,’ said one of the pretty little bridesmaids, ‘the photographer would like you down by the garden wall for pictures.’ She glanced about. ‘Have you seen Jack?’
I pointed in the direction of the old stables. He would appear when he was ready but there was no point in telling that to this bright thing. She’d been tasked by Peta and would do her job.
Grabbing a flute of champagne, I made my way through the guests, smiling but keeping my distance. The sooner these pictures were taken the better, then I could find my seat and simply watch the proceedings. I was like Jack, waiting for the moment when I could fade into unimportance – although I knew this was easier for an old woman than a handsome and eligible man of thirty.
Twenty feet in front of me stood the happy couple with the backdrop of Falmouth Bay behind them. Their carefree ease with each other was so different from the stiff formality of the previous wedding here. Peta and Fred were laughing at something one of the children had said and their hands were linked – no doubt like their hearts. Mine tightened. Once I’d known such happiness.
‘Let’s get this over with.’ Jack put a hand on my elbow. The bridesmaid had done her job well.
‘They are happy.’
Jack stopped walking and looked closely at them. ‘Yes, yes they are.’
I followed his glance. The wind picked up and the full skirt of Peta’s gown curled around her body. My breath caught. Was she pregnant? I blinked. No, my eyes were playing tricks on me.
‘Great, you’re all here. Mrs Rowse and Jack, could you stand either side of the couple?’ The photographer parted me from Jack and placed me close to Fred. I looked up to see the Polcrebar clan being led in our direction by Tamsin. For one so small she clearly ruled them all with an iron fist. She had married young and stayed that way, raising three fine sons. She would be there for Peta. It would all be OK.
‘Now, Fred, let’s get a shot of the bride with her brother and grandmother, then we’ll roll in your family for the next one.’
Peta kissed my cheek as she slipped an arm around my back. ‘It’s all good, Gran. Thank you for everything.’ Looking in her eyes I saw her happiness. I was wrong to worry. I had to keep my concerns to myself and hope Jack would as well. One of the pageboys attempted a handstand on the grass behind the photographer, causing laughter as his father swept him up by his feet and carried him to his mother.
‘Can’t keep control of your kids, Mark,’ Fred called.
The man who’d carried the child turned back with a big smile. ‘No, he reminds me of you, Fred – full of wicked energy.’
‘Great, now you tell me!’ Peta called as the child squealed in delight and his mother came along holding a little girl in her arms.
‘You wouldn’t have listened to me anyway,’ Mark called over his shoulder, setting his son on his feet and ruffling his hair. He placed an arm around his wife and they walked back towards the tepee.
The photographer sighed. ‘Can you all look this way? We’ll get these done and you can all go to the party.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Fred’s father Anthony. I tried to appear happy; this was a joyful day after all. I looked at the two people who loved me without question. I’d always been a part of their lives. Of course, that wouldn’t be the case for much longer. At ninety there were a limited number of years available. And to be honest, there was only one thing left that I would like to see. I turned to Jack. The smile on his mouth did not reach his eyes.
In the distance the photographer was trying to organise the family but it didn’t look like he was getting the cooperation he wanted. Lara smiled then turned to check everything. More canapés were at the ready and the champagne bottles were cooling in large metal troughs. The waiting staff were busy. Her job was almost done. She double-checked the heat from the barbecues and tasted the seasoning in the salad dressing. No worries there. Cassie had a finely tuned team. Lara walked to her car and pulled out the clothes carrier. She would slip into the dress and move among the guests checking things as unobtrusively as possible.
The sundress was ideal for the heat of the day. Now that she had it on she could see it was truly in a 1940s style, with a belted waist and full skirt. The light in the
bathroom off the kitchen was not ideal for refreshing makeup, but she made quick work of it, touching up the red lipstick and tucking a few loose strands of hair back into their roll. The overall effect of the hair and the dress worked well. Digging into her bag, she pulled out the necklace and earrings that Betty had given her. She wondered if Grandie had given them to Amelia as a wedding present, but they looked older. Adjusting the string of pearls around her neck, she walked back to the car to put her chef’s clothes out of the way.
The sound of happy voices floated on the light breeze. Coming around the outside of the building, Lara stopped. The view out across the sea was impressive, but it wasn’t that which had brought her to a halt – it was the large bay window of the house, juxtaposed with the view. It looked very much like the one in her great-grandparent’s wedding photograph. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. She told herself it was probably more likely that this style of window was common in Cornwall, as were the stunning views, but it would be worth a check, at least.
In the distance she could see the photographer was still taking pictures of the wedding party. The bride was wearing a cream flapper dress covered in leaves that progressed in shades, reaching the bottom in a full blaze of colour. Somehow this modern twist worked well with the classic style and a veil that swept around her feet. The veil must be a family one. Peta’s brother Jack held himself away from the group and Lara could see the photographer trying to encourage him back into the fold. Viewing the group from this distance, she saw how beautifully Peta had designed each outfit to suit the wearer, down to the vivid silk vests on the men. The whole gathering was a stunning array of colour with the sparkling blue bay as the backdrop.
She walked back towards the tepee and turned her attention to the guests. The champagne flowed freely and the band played jazzy numbers from the fifties and sixties. The voice of the singer had a distinctly Sinatra feel. The sun was warm while the breeze was both cool and in the right direction to keep the smoke from the barbecues away from the tent. If it all went this well she would be home soon and curled up with Snowy while the bride and groom were dancing the night away. She just hoped they didn’t plan on watching the sunrise and taking a dip in the sea like Pierre and she had. She sighed. It wasn’t fair to compare her disastrous marriage with the one taking place today, but the bad taste of failure still lingered.
