by Molly Green
‘Gee, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to call you sooner but I was away. Only just got back and heard the news and knew you two were good buddies.’
‘Thank you for letting me know.’
‘If I hear anything more I’ll call you.’
June put the receiver slowly back on its cradle and stumbled up the staircase. Hilda passed her on the first landing, looking at her curiously, but June kept her head down and rushed up to her room. She sat on her bed and put her head in her hands, making small, stifled whimpers. She didn’t care whether Matron was looking for her or not. She couldn’t face anyone. She needed to be by herself in this funny little room she’d begun to call hers. To think. To remember him. She tried to picture his face. It was as though she was looking through a veil. She tried to remember the warmth of him. His warm hands. His warm lips. But no matter how hard she tried to remember, she couldn’t.
She sat there rocking herself, shaking her head, her body tense with disbelief. Her heart seemed to have slowed to nothing. She put her hand to her chest wondering if it had actually stopped. But there it was, a steady rhythm, still beating. Why was her heart beating when Murray’s no longer was?
There was a light tap on her door. She froze. She wasn’t going to speak to anyone. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone? The tap was louder this time.
‘Go away.’ She thought she was shouting and was surprised her voice didn’t reverberate around the room.
Someone called her name. She didn’t want to see anyone. Didn’t want to speak. The voice called again. Who was it? Couldn’t they understand she wanted to be left alone? Whoever was outside was now trying the doorknob. Slowly June pushed herself off the bed, feeling the room tip. She half fell against the wardrobe with a thud, and, desperately trying to steady herself, she managed the few feet to the door. With effort she opened it.
‘Iris.’ Her voice was hardly above a whisper.
‘Oh, my God, Junie, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Have you had some bad news? Was it the telephone call?’ As she was talking she led June over to the bed and sat down next to her.
June turned her head. Her face was wooden. ‘Murray transferred to Bomber Command, somewhere in East Anglia – he didn’t tell me – and his aeroplane was shot down and now he’s dead.’
‘Oh, Junie.’ Iris folded her into her strong arms.
It was only then that June wept.
Minutes passed until June finally raised her head from Iris’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘Don’t be silly. It’s what friends are for. It’s horrible news. I don’t know what to say to give you any comfort, but you know I’m here.’ Iris gave her a gentle squeeze. ‘Who was on the telephone?’
‘Chas. He told me that Murray had been reported m-missing for over a week,’ June choked. Her eyes, red with weeping, rested on her friend. ‘I’ll never see Murray again. Oh, Iris, how shall I bear it?’
‘You just said Chas told you Murray was reported missing.’
‘P-presumed d-dead,’ June finished.
‘But it’s not definite. There’s always hope that he might have been picked up.’
‘That’s what Chas said. But if he had, they’d have found him by now. It happened over a week ago.’ Her voice rose. ‘Oh, why didn’t someone let me know sooner?’
‘Because they only tell wives and mothers that sort of news,’ Iris said.
‘And I’m just a friend – is that it?’ June’s voice was raw and challenging.
‘’Fraid so, love – as far as the military’s concerned, anyway.’
‘I’ll never be able to tell him I love him.’ She broke down again.
‘All you can do for the time being, Junie, is hope. Don’t give up. Here …’ Iris wiped fresh tears from June’s eyes. ‘Come and splash your face with cold water and go and see Bertie. She’ll make you a cup of tea. It’s what you need. You’ve had an awful shock.’
June didn’t think she would have made it down the stairs if it hadn’t been for Iris keeping a firm arm around her waist, talking to her, encouraging her.
‘I don’t want any tea,’ June kept repeating.
‘Well, go and sit with Bertie anyway,’ Iris said. ‘We’ve got Bobby in the sick room with a bad case of diarrhoea. Kathleen will be wanting me to take over so she can get some sleep.’
‘You go on,’ June said. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.’
But Iris insisted. The girls made their way to the kitchen, and when Iris pushed the kitchen door open, June was thankful to see that Bertie was on her own, cutting up some meat.
‘Making a stew for dinner,’ Bertie said with a smile, glancing over at the two women, ‘and waiting for some help. Hilda’s late as usual.’ Her smile faded. ‘June, what’s the matter, love?’ She put down the knife and washed her hands at the sink.
‘Look after her, Bertie,’ Iris said, giving June a little push onto one of the kitchen chairs. ‘She’s had some frightful news.’
‘Leave her with me.’ Bertie wiped her hands on her apron. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. If you want to, hen,’ she looked at June and smiled, ‘you can tell me all about it. But only if you want to. I promise you whatever it is, I’ll understand. And it won’t go any further.’
Iris shut the door quietly behind her.
June carried out her duties in a daze and when she attended to the children they occasionally made her forget – sometimes as long as an hour or two. But when she was alone, cleaning their bedrooms and doing all the other tasks Matron had set her, it would sweep over her like a storm. At first she tried to hang on to the word ‘missing’ but every day her sliver of hope faded a little more. Most nights she’d cry herself to sleep, hugging herself into a tight ball of misery. She’d wake after a restless night and open her eyes and for a few wonderful seconds her world was normal. Then everything came tumbling down on top of her. Murray was no longer in her world. She’d drag herself out of bed, her head throbbing, trying to put on a brave face.
Even Matron patted her arm awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry to hear about your young man.’
June didn’t have the will to tell her Murray wasn’t, after all, her young man. She just nodded and miserably hunched her way to the laundry room with a bag of dirty washing from the children. She had to keep going – for their sake.
‘Junie, I’ve got something to tell you, and I want you to know before anyone,’ Iris said as they were taking a brisk walk after supper – a new habit Iris had insisted upon so that June got out in the fresh air.
‘Something good, I hope,’ June said, her eyes red from last night’s sobbing. It was getting to be a habit, crying herself to sleep every night. She knew she had to stop it. Nothing was going to bring him back. She tried to pull herself into the present. What was Iris saying?
‘It happened the same evening you heard about Murray,’ Iris said. ‘And I couldn’t say anything then – obviously.’ She stopped.
June glanced at her friend’s anxious expression. ‘What is it, Iris?’
Iris stretched out her left hand and June gasped. On the fourth finger was a sapphire ring, the exact colour of Iris’s eyes, gleaming up at her in the last of the day’s sunshine.
June swallowed. A stab of envy shot through her and she forced herself to smile as widely as she could.
‘Oh, Iris. You and David?’ June caught hold of Iris’s hand. ‘It’s beautiful. I can’t believe it. Well, of course I can,’ she added hurriedly. ‘Talk about anyone being Mr Right. David is a darling and just perfect for you. When is the wedding?’
‘We’re not going to wait. This war could go on for months – years – no one knows. We’re going to snatch some happiness while we can.’
‘What about Dr Barnardo’s rules? Are you allowed to work here as a married couple? I know it’s selfish but please say yes, you are.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Iris said. ‘It might suit us for a while, but we want our own home and David has always longed to live in Scotland, so that’s
where we might end up.’ Iris’s voice was dreamy. ‘Now you know why I couldn’t tell you until now. Couldn’t even wear my ring. You were in such shock that I had to let some time go by before I felt you could be happy for me.’
‘Oh, Iris, I am happy for you. So very happy.’ June threw her arms round Iris and hugged her tightly. ‘I like him very much.’
‘I feel really lucky to have found him,’ Iris said.
‘I believe it was me who found him for you,’ June quipped, hardly aware that for the first time since Chas had made that terrible telephone call, a sense of quiet resignation was stealing into her own heart. ‘I had to persuade you to go and listen to his classical concerts. “Oh, no, I shan’t go”,’ she impersonated Iris, ‘“I only like jazz.”’
Iris giggled. ‘Did I really say that? I must have been mad. I’m getting very knowledgeable about all that serious stuff.’
‘Oh, Iris, I am happy for you. I just wish …’ June blinked back the ready tears.
‘I know, Junie. I’m so sorry you haven’t heard anything. I suppose we have to come to terms with the idea that he did die in the crash.’ She put her arm around June. ‘But one day, love, you’ll meet someone and be happy again.’
June didn’t reply. Whatever she said would take the edge off Iris’s happiness and she wasn’t going to spoil that for anything in the world.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The following morning June heard a report on the wireless that there was always a chance a missing soldier could turn up. It had happened many times. Just hearing that possibility gave her fresh hope. Maybe he’d been found and taken to some hospital. Maybe lost his memory. Maybe his identification papers had been mislaid or burned in the accident. Maybe he’d come down on enemy soil and was in prison. Then she told herself not to be so foolish and brushed the hope away, along with fresh tears, telling herself she had to face up to it. He’d have been found by now.
That afternoon June and some of the older children decided to go on a long walk in the grounds while the younger ones were taking their nap. Fresh air would do everyone good, June decided. She wouldn’t even ask Matron, whom she’d seen totter down the path to her cottage. June enjoyed pointing out the names of the trees she recognised, displaying all the beautiful greens of midsummer, and they were in high spirits until the children charged into the Great Hall and stopped short when they saw Matron’s frowning expression, her pudgy hands pushing hard on the bulk of her hips.
‘Wipe your shoes this minute!’ Matron’s lips were a grim line. ‘No wonder the library floor is such a disgrace,’ she added, her voice echoing her irritation. Her steely eyes raked over the group. ‘Woolfes, Jones, Crossland – you three can set to and polish it before supper.’
‘But we’re tired, Matron,’ Alan said, ‘and starving hungry.’
‘You don’t know what starving is,’ Matron growled. ‘Now get moving!’
Why did the woman seem to get such satisfaction out of being so horrible to the children? June wondered. Never had a smile for them or a word of praise. She just stood there, her arms now folded. She had to be obeyed.
‘Come on, you three. I’ll help you,’ June said. ‘The sooner we do it the sooner you can have your supper.’
Upstairs in the library June noticed Joachim wasn’t with them. She was just about to go and find him when he appeared at the door, smirking, holding several dusters. He silently handed two each to the others, then sat down and tied a duster round each shoe, fixing it with a rubber band. The others grinned and moments later even June had joined the children and was sliding up and down the parquet floor, laughing for the first time since her awful news.
They didn’t hear the door open.
‘What do you all think you’re playing at?’ Matron barked.
As though they’d committed some terrible crime, ran through June’s mind. She was just about to make light of it when Bobby Crossland pointed to Joachim. ‘It was him, Matron. The German.’
‘And what do you have to say for yourself, Woolfes?’
‘I think it is a good quick way to get a nice shine on the floor,’ came the boy’s quick reply.
‘Please, Bobby, will you stop calling Joachim “the German”,’ June admonished.
‘Well, that’s what he is,’ Bobby said sulkily. ‘Don’t mean to say I don’t like him.’
‘You still do not call him anything but his own name,’ June said firmly, ‘I mean it. Do you hear?’
She didn’t care that she said this in front of Matron. If she didn’t say anything, Matron certainly wouldn’t.
‘Bobby?’
Bobby kicked an imaginary stone. ‘Yes, I heard. Won’t do it again, Miss.’
‘And tomorrow, Woolfes,’ Matron resumed, ‘you can polish the library floor the proper way.’ She turned to June. ‘And I’ll see you in my office after supper, Miss Lavender.’
She spun on her heel and June stared after her. Matron always had to have the last word.
Day after day dragged by. Murray was on June’s mind no matter how busy she was with the children. Could he possibly still be alive? Sometimes he felt so close to her it seemed he must be. She gave a deep sigh. Not knowing for certain was almost worse.
It was supper time and as usual she wasn’t hungry. The children were still filing noisily into the dining room when the telephone in the Great Hall rang. She hesitated. She should be helping the teachers with the children but it might be important. She hurried over and picked up the receiver.
‘Bingham Hall. June Lavender speaking.’
‘Oh, June, I’m so glad you answered. It’s Chas.’
Chas. Why didn’t he just give up? If he was the last man on earth, she didn’t want him. She was just about to tell him so in the politest way she could, when she heard him say:
‘Andrews has been found!’
She must be hearing things. She pressed the receiver closer to her ear. There was a silence. She’d dreamed of hearing those words so often she must have imagined that’s what Chas had just said. She was about to put the receiver down, thinking she must be hearing things, when his voice came over the wires again.
‘June? June, did you hear me? Murray Andrews is alive!’
She began to shake. She couldn’t speak … daren’t ask if he was badly hurt … if he was asking for her. She ran her tongue over her lips. It couldn’t be true.
‘June, say something. Are you there?’
She swallowed. ‘Oh, Chas, I can’t believe it. I’m sorry – I was just – I’m … I don’t know what to say, only thank you so much for taking the trouble to tell me.’ Thank God she’d found her voice. ‘When did you hear the news?’
‘An hour ago. It seems his plane was shot down and the crew bailed out over Holland. I don’t know any more than that except Johnnie Upton didn’t make it. The others are injured in different ways. I’m so glad for your sake that he’s been found. Wish him luck for me when you see him, won’t you? We didn’t always agree, but he’s a good guy.’
‘Do you know what his injuries are?’
‘Burned arm – one of his eyes got it. That’s about all I can tell you.’
‘Do you know where he is?’
‘Queen Victoria Hospital, East Grinstead – special burns unit.’ There was a pause and then she heard him say, ‘Look, June, I gotta go. Look after yourself.’
She heard the click of the receiver.
Her brain felt numb, as though it couldn’t take in any more information. Murray was injured. That was all she knew. His arm and his eye. She only prayed he hadn’t lost the sight of his eye, because if he had, they’d never allow him to fly aeroplanes again. And that was what he loved doing more than anything. It was his life. But that was it – he was alive. Against all odds he was alive … and she was going to see him … wherever East Grinstead happened to be. Her face broke into a broad smile of joy.
She needed to see Matron. Ask if she could have some leave to go and visit Murray in hospital. June pressed her lips into
a determined line, even though she felt like bursting with happiness that he was alive. He’d get better – she’d see to that.
After supper Matron was not to be found in her office.
‘Has anyone seen Matron?’ June asked whenever she saw one of the staff.
‘She was here fifteen minutes ago,’ said Kathleen. ‘I know because I asked her if I could have a lift with Harold tomorrow morning. I need to restock the medicine chest.’
June searched everywhere she could think of in the house. She looked out into the gardens, but a heavy rain was falling. No, Matron wouldn’t go out into the grounds in this weather, and she didn’t usually retreat to her cottage quite this early. June suddenly had a thought. The cellar. Maybe Matron was finally inspecting it to see if it was dry enough to bring the children’s beds down now that the summer was here.
Step by careful step June descended the ladder-like staircase towards the cellar floor. Someone sneezed just as her foot was about to reach the last step.
June listened, hardly breathing. It might not be Matron, she suddenly thought. It could be an intruder.
There was a strange popping noise.
‘Is anybody there?’ she called.
Silence.
Then, ‘Who’s there?’
The voice was definitely Matron’s.
‘It’s me – June. Is that Matron?’
A tall figure appeared in a white overall. June gave a startled step backwards. It was like seeing a ghost gliding through the murky gloom.
‘What do you think you’re doing frightening me like that?’ Matron demanded.
‘I’m sorry, Matron, I thought you were a burglar.’
‘Of course I’m not a burglar. I was just looking at the possibility of bringing the children down here at night. It might be safer for them.’
June looked at her with irritation. Matron had declared it as though it were her idea – as if June had never mentioned it all those months ago. June caught the gleam of dislike in Matron’s eyes. Better say nothing. It wouldn’t do to slip further into her bad books.
‘I think that’s a very good idea,’ June said limply.
