by Sally Wragg
A wave broke and sloshed up, splashing into their faces.
‘If our mothers could see us now,’ she said to Ted, and all at once she could smell the kitchen range, rain on the vegetable garden, and hear a lark soaring up.
If her mother could see her! She felt a hysterical bubble of laughter building up inside. What a good job she couldn’t.
Her nurse’s training told Maggie she was in shock, but she wasn’t the only one.
‘Lovely night for a swim.’ Ted grimaced.
‘Oh, and there’s me forgotten my costume!’ She forced the words out between chattering teeth. Thank heaven for black humour, which had kept them going the two long days and nights waiting on the beach. They’d all seen sights they’d never forget.
Of all ridiculous things, Maggie found herself longing for a cup of tea. The cold was finally numbing her mind, numbing fear, even.
By the time they reached the boat, the water was at chest level. She reached out thankfully, grabbed the side of the boat, and turned to help Ted.
‘Wait!’ Diana gasped. ‘Go first, Maggie. Help the rest aboard.’
As usual, Diana was taking charge. Some would call her bossy, but everyone loved her for it.
With Diana pushing, and with great indignity, Maggie managed to lever herself into the boat, upended dripping on to the deck.
The boat was brimming with folk. She scrambled to her knees and reached forward to help Ted, his face white with pain and shock.
Maggie heard him gasp out loud as he fell forwards, and the engine roared to life.
Someone shouted, but she couldn’t make out a word. Overhead, another blasted plane shrieked into a dive, peppering the surface of the water with gunfire.
Someone screamed, and she realised it was her own voice. She forced her lips shut. There was simply no time to panic.
They were nearly there. It only required one final effort.
Below her, Diana, still chest deep in water, pushed and shoved her young patient towards the side of the boat. Maggie grabbed hold of his uniform and heaved backwards.
His rifle dropped into the sea, but she took the full force of his weight as he finally came on board.
And the boat shot forward and away….
Chapter Five
‘Where is she, Daisy? We should have heard by now!’ Tony Blount, tall, broad-shouldered and burly, seemed to fill Daisy’s little living-room.
Daisy was ironing; anything to keep her mind from Maggie.
So many of the BEF were home already. What could have happened?
With great care, she set the iron on the ironing board and reached for another shirt.
‘I don’t know where she is, lad. If only I did!’
‘It’s all over the papers that they’ve brought as many back as possible. There must be some left behind, that’s all.’
They looked at each other.
‘Not Maggie!’ Daisy said. She sagged against the ironing board.
Daisy, of all people, showing signs of distress steadied Tony as nothing else could.
‘Don’t take on.’ He smiled, trying to fill his voice with a confidence he was far from feeling. ‘She’ll be fine – you know Maggie! She may be back, but can’t get through to tell us. I expect it’s total chaos.’
They were clutching at straws, though. Maggie was most likely stranded in France, or taken prisoner.
‘It’s the waiting that’s so hard.’ Daisy found herself apologising, and that made up Tony’s mind for him.
‘I’ve had enough of twiddling my thumbs. I’m driving down to Dover,’ he said. ‘I can lay my hands on extra petrol.’
Daisy looked up at him, hardly daring to hope, and he patted her shoulder.
‘Don’t worry any more, Daisy, I’m not coming back without her.’
‘Was that Tony hurrying off down town?’ Peter Bridges asked, arriving moments later.
‘He’s going to get his car and drive down to Dover, to try to find out what’s happened to Maggie.’ Daisy was already beginning to doubt the success of the venture.
‘Good lad!’ Peter cried, relief flooding his face. ‘That’s more like it! Would he like some company, do you think? I’ll run and catch him up …’
He was already re-buttoning his jacket, but she called him back instantly.
‘He’ll happen be best on his own, love. It’ll be quicker.’
He could hardly hide his disappointment. Peter wanted to do something, too.
‘She’ll be fine,’ he said fiercely, seeing the wretched look on Daisy’s face.
His conviction Maggie must be all right was the only thing keeping Peter going. And now there was this other unfortunate development, which had brought him hurrying up here in the first place.
Doubtful how to broach the subject, he stood by Daisy’s neatly folded pile of ironing, fingering it uncertainly.
Daisy looked so pale, concentrating every effort on the shirt she was ironing – one of William’s oldest.
‘How’s his nibs?’ he asked, and she glanced up. A few days since, William had tumbled trying to get up from his chair. Dr Hardaker had diagnosed only bruising, but her father had been in bed the last two days, and Daisy had been rushed off her feet.
She spat on the iron, which sizzled, and reached for another shirt.
‘He was asleep the last time I went up.’
‘Good. Well, what do you think?’ He had some good news at least. ‘Billy’s filled that blasted form in and sent it off this morning.’
‘Has he ticked the right box?’ she demanded instantly.
‘Reserved occupation!’ Peter smiled broadly. Their son would be kept home and safe, out of harm’s way.
‘I don’t know why he took so long about it.’ The iron moved fast and furiously, but then Daisy paused. ‘There’s something wrong. He’s not himself nowadays.’
‘Well, it’s done, that’s all I know.’
It seemed he’d have to tell her the rest. He took a halting step forward.
‘Holly’s been home,’ he began, and her whole body tensed.
‘I can guess.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You’ve told her the truth, then? I expect you thought you’d have to tell her?’
She said it so matter of factly, and only Peter knew the effort it must have cost. But the thing had to be discussed.
Holly had spilled out the whole of what William had blurted out to her. The old man had really put the cat amongst the pigeons this time round.
‘Of course I haven’t told her! But I couldn’t deny it. I can’t lie to her, can I?’
He was still hurting over it. His sweet little Holly, looking as if he’d betrayed her. And no wonder; Peter himself couldn’t understand why she hadn’t been told the truth years since.
His young granddaughter’s righteous indignation would have tickled him any other time. Peter couldn’t blame her for demanding answers – and how grown-up she’d looked! He could hear her voice now.
‘Does me poor mam know? Stuck in France, and she knows none of this?’
‘Don’t worry about your mam, love. She’ll be back soon enough. You’ll be able to ask her yourself then.’
‘But does she know?’ Holly cried.
‘Yes, and no. She can’t remember her real father!’ he went on hastily. ‘She was such a little girl when I married your gran. I’ve been her dad in all but name. It was all so long ago, love. Can’t you just drop it?’
He’d suddenly wanted to wrap his arms around her, as he used to when she was little and had taken a tumble. He stepped towards her, but to his great dismay she moved out of reach.
‘Tell me who?’
Peter almost opened his mouth and said ‘Ned Bradshaw’. What had held him back?
Now, looking at his wife, he knew. Daisy and her stubborn pride.
‘Of course you’re her granddad – what else should you be?’ Daisy glanced at him, and then just as quickly away again – as if she couldn’t bear to look at him.
‘But I’
m not her real granddad, am I, nor Maggie’s true father. I’m not her flesh and blood. She should have been told, love.’
‘She couldn’t have a better granddad!’ Daisy thumped the iron down, her voice full of suppressed emotion. ‘Nor Harry, neither.’
‘That’s hardly what I’m saying, Daisy! It’s all this other stuff. Things they have a right to know, all of them … Maggie, Holly, Harry … They should have been told, that’s all. We should have told them together.’
‘Maggie doesn’t care who her real father is! Why else has she never bothered to ask?’ Daisy said fiercely.
‘She hasn’t asked because she knew how you’d react,’ he muttered, hating himself, but unable to stop. The whole wretched subject was a festering sore that should have been lanced long since.
‘That’s unfair!’
Daisy lodged the iron on its stand and tucked her arms round herself, holding herself in, as she always did, Peter thought. Why couldn’t she let go?
‘The lass is upset, love,’ he continued doggedly. ‘You can’t leave Holly knowing half a story. There are too many questions.’
Daisy was silent.
‘She’s worried about you,’ Peter battled on, ‘and so am I. Do you think I haven’t noticed you’re going through a rough time? And not just over Maggie!’
He saw the struggle in her face, and his heart went out to her.
‘This needs to come from you,’ he coaxed.
‘Peter, I can’t!’ She began to rock backwards and forwards, still holding her arms tightly round her waist. Tears welled into her eyes.
‘Daisy, love!’
Quickly, he put his arms around her, holding her fast, feeling the throbbing of her heart against his own – a small, caged thing in pain.
‘Let it out, love,’ he coaxed.
Would she? He doubted it! But things were coming to a head. This time, something was bound to come of it all.
*
‘Thanks.’ Mary collected her tea from the counter and chose a table with a good view of the door. She was trying to keep calm, for her nerves were still vibrating from the shock of yesterday – hearing John’s voice!
Mr Dawkins, the pharmacist, didn’t like people ringing the girls at work, but John had persuaded him to let her speak. How unbelievable it had been to pick up the receiver and hear his voice. She’d had to sit down on the chair by the phone before her legs gave way. Some good news at last!
John was in Castle Maine to see his grandparents, the Bradshaws, but Mary hoped they were a convenient excuse. He’d sounded desperate to see her, and she was shocked at how much she was looking forward to seeing him, too.
The other boys she’d been seeing while he was away, boys home on leave or from the RAF station, only too keen for something or someone to take their minds from the war – it didn’t mean anything.
It had been so hard not being able to tell the family why she was suddenly so happy. Everyone was so worried over Maggie.
She couldn’t tell her mam, who loathed the Bradshaws. Billy was in an odd mood nowadays.
Finally, she’d plucked up the courage and told Dad everything.
She’d been seeing John Bertram a long time, and he was very keen on her.
She couldn’t think now why she’d not told Dad ages ago. He’d never tell Mam – they both knew what kind of a storm that would pull down on their heads.
‘We’ll have to keep it quiet for a bit yet, lass,’ the calm, familiar voice said. ‘She’s enough on, worrying over our Maggie.’
Mary’s stomach lurched.
‘She will come back safe, Dad, won’t she?’ Mary couldn’t think anything else. Her big sister had always been there, all her life.
‘Of course she’ll be back.’ Dad gave her a quick hug.
Mary drank her tea, trying not to think the unthinkable, because if you started that, you were lost.
She looked up. A young man stood in the doorway looking round the tearooms, his blue cap to the back of his head. He caught her eye, and there was a look on his face she couldn’t possibly misinterpret. Her heart rose.
‘John,’ she mouthed, and jumped up hastily, spilling her tea.
He moved between chairs and tables to take her into his arms. Then he bent his head and kissed her for the first time.
She leaned into him and put her arms around his waist, breathing in the presence she’d missed so long. This was amazing. None of those other boys had made her feel like this. Did he really mean so much to her?
Abruptly, she was conscious of the customers, watching with obvious interest. People were all too used to seeing these sudden reunions and equally precipitous partings nowadays. It was the blasted war.
‘You’ve lost weight!’ She disentangled herself and sat down again, forcing a bright smile to her face.
As he sat down, she reached for his hand.
‘I’ve missed you.’ She sounded surprised even to her own ears.
‘I’ve missed you, too.’ His eyes never left her face. ‘You’ll never know how much I’ve missed you, Mary.’
He so clearly meant it. She’d missed the thrill of being with someone who cared so much. If she could find it in her heart to love anyone, it would be someone like John….
If only she didn’t long to have fun, to have all the good things in life! She’d never hurt anyone in seeking that, and John understood. Yet he still found it in him to love her.
With John, she’d never had to be anything other than what she was.
‘I was worried about you,’ she said as he watched her hungrily.
‘You look worried,’ he said. ‘Are you going to tell me?’
‘It’s Maggie!’ she blurted out. ‘You’ve no idea where she is, I suppose? You’ve no news?’
‘It’s chaos over there, Mary! No one knows where anyone is. The men are simply getting back as best they can.
‘I don’t know what’s happened to the medical units. They’ll be the same as everyone else. I expect, having to shift for themselves.’
‘We should have heard something by now.’ Her breath caught in her throat.
‘Don’t take on so; I can’t bear it when you take on.’
His fingers caressed her hand, gently moving from the base of her thumb to the inside of her wrist in a soft circular motion that sent shivers up her spine.
‘I thought about you all the time I was away.’ The pressure of his fingers increased, and his eyes gazed into hers with a strange intensity. ‘I came to some conclusions. I knew them all, really. Like life is for living, now, while we have the chance.’
He let go of her hand and delved hastily into the inside pocket of his uniform, finally pulling out a tiny box. He fumbled it open to reveal a ring lying on blue silk.
It looked like solid gold, its centrepiece a ruby surrounded by diamonds. He tipped the box this way and that, catching the sunlight, and it almost blinded her.
‘I want us to get married,’ he whispered. ‘Say you’ll marry me, Mary, now, before I go back. We can easily get a special licence; couples are doing it all the time!’
Marriage! The very last thing she’d expected. Shock coursed through Mary. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.
Marry John? She’d never thought of marrying anyone. She was captivated by the ring, lying in its box, but at last she shook her head.
‘I can’t marry you,’ she wailed, and the people at other tables sighed in unison.
John blushed, and took one single deep breath, fighting to stay calm.
‘What’s to stop us?’ he asked quietly.
‘I don’t love you,’ she said quietly and, for Mary, truthfully. It would have been so easy to lie, and delicious, too, to be married to him … but she had to be honest with herself. Mary loved Mary – only herself.
‘Liking isn’t enough, John. It would end in disaster.’
He deserved someone who could love him back and she had the sense to realise it.
‘I have love enough for b
oth of us.’ His voice was low.
She could hardly stand the pain she’d caused. Her gaze fell again on the ring, sparkling so invitingly, demanding someone to wear it….
She was longing to pick it up and slip it on her finger.
‘I don’t want to be tied down,’ she murmured.
‘I wouldn’t. How could I tie you down?’
‘How could you help it?’
He took her hand again.
‘I’d try, Mary!’
‘Whatever would people think if we married in such a rush?’
‘Why should we care what people think?’ He was willing her to understand, to say yes. ‘Once we were married, who could say anything?’
Mary looked back at the table. It was a beautiful ring, one she’d give anything to possess.
Offered on a plate, and she was turning it down? A tiny seed of doubt started to take root, choking the blessed impulse that had made her turn him down.
Her friends would be green with envy. She could see herself with the ruby flashing on her finger. And he did love her. It would be so romantic …
With one swift, determined movement, he pulled the ring from the box and reached for her hand. She let him take it, knowing it was wrong, but even so—
‘Mary, please say you’ll marry me. I love you; I’ll always love you.’
She looked down to see the ring poised provocatively on the tip of her finger. Even the thought of possessing it filled her with a sudden joy. His eyes asked the question again, and she answered without words.
His face suffused with love, he slipped it over her knuckle. It nestled against the base of her finger, fitting perfectly. She wouldn’t even have to get it altered. A sign, surely!
She lifted up her hand to admire it, her eyes widening in joy, and the tables round about broke into spontaneous applause. Mary, seeing only the flash of jewels, was past caring.
*
So this was where her mam and dad came when they were courting! The heady scent of blossom filled Holly Bates with a sudden wild and unexpected joy, followed by a familiar stab of fear.
Mam and Dad had been so happy. The happiness they’d cast over everyone around them was like sunshine, wiped out when Dad had that horrible motor-bike accident….
