Always I'Ll Remember

by Bradshaw, Rita

  But now it was the middle of what was turning out to be a very wet August; Clara was home all day for the long summer holiday and for once there was sunshine instead of pouring rain. In fact the sun was hot and the sky as blue as cornflowers.

  Since Winnie had become too big to work outside, she had taken over Mrs Tollett’s duties in the house and dairy, leaving the farmer’s wife free to work alongside her husband and Abby and Rowena. They’d just begun gathering in the harvest and the three women were working at the bottom of one of the cornfields when they heard the drone of planes high overhead. This was not unusual with the RAF base at Scarborough, but there had been the occasional dogfight between Spitfires and the Luftwaffe throughout the war in the skies above Yorkshire, and the sound always made Abby feel slightly uneasy. Lately the enemy had begun to use pilotless flying bombs, the V-I. If one of these escaped a direct hit from anti-aircraft fire or fighter planes and was only deflected from its intended target, it could swoop to earth anywhere.

  Shading her eyes, Abby looked upwards, and she could just see the shape of a Spitfire high in the sky before the sound of guns rattling and a subsequent explosion rent the still air. ‘That’s one of Jerry’s doodlebugs which won’t get to Scarborough,’ Gladys said complacently to the others. Abby returned her smile out of politeness. In truth the nature of such indiscriminate bombing made her feel sick. She glanced back at the farmhouse in the distance where Clara was busy helping Winnie, and for a moment had a strong urge to turn and run back there and bring Clara into the fields at her side.

  It was only seconds later when more explosions were heard, and then, coming straight towards them in the distance, all three distinctly saw a V-1 rocket. They didn’t have time to speak or react before it seemed to stop and dive into a barn in a field of cattle next to where Farmer Tollett was working. The explosion made Gladys scream shrilly while Abby and Rowena clapped their hands over their mouths in horror.

  ‘Josiah!’ Mrs Tollett took off at a run, fairly flying over the ground which separated her from her husband, with Abby and Rowena close on her heels. The farmer had been close to the dividing wall and the carnage which greeted them was beyond belief. The bomb had flattened the barn and surrounding area, leaving a mountain of chopped-up cattle and debris. It had also brought down a huge oak tree some yards from the barn under whose shade a number of cows had been standing. The topmost branches of the tree had landed on what was left of the farmer and the tractor. The smell, mangled metal, bits of cattle and human flesh was a sight from hell itself.

  By the time Abby and Rowena managed to get Gladys back to the farm, all three women had been sick a number of times and Gladys was incoherent. Winnie and Clara joined them at the top of the fields and they had just got Gladys into the kitchen when Winnie gave a groan and clutched the edge of the table.

  Oh no, not now. Please, not now. Abby pushed Gladys into a chair and said to Rowena, ‘Make some tea, strong and sweet. Use all the sugar ration if you have to. Clara,’ she turned to her sister who was wide-eyed and white-faced, ‘go into Mr Tollett’s study and fetch the bottle of brandy he keeps in the sideboard.’

  ‘No one’s allowed to touch that but him,’ her sister said. ‘We’ll get wrong.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that.’ When Clara still didn’t move and Winnie began to gasp, Abby gripped the child by her shoulders, her voice uncharacteristically harsh as she said, ‘Go and do what you’re told and quick. Do you hear me?’

  Clara disappeared, and Abby turned to Winnie. She slid a chair under her and took hold of her hands. ‘Is this the first contraction?’

  Winnie shook her head. ‘No, they started first thing but only mild, like the belly ache we all had after those plums. I was going to say something later or send Clara to get Gladys if they got too bad.’

  Oh Winnie. Abby could have shaken her. She had promised she’d say as soon as she had the first pains so someone could go to the village and fetch Mrs Potts, the midwife.

  Winnie, sensing what she was thinking, said, ‘You’re all needed in the fields, that’s the thing, with the harvest and all, so I thought if I could manage until it was dark—’ She stopped as another pain hit.

  Abby glanced at Rowena who had just mashed the tea and was spooning liberal amounts of sugar into mugs, and then at Gladys who was sitting back in her chair with her eyes shut and looking like death. What was she going to do? They had to get the midwife for Winnie and someone had to tell the authorities about Farmer Tollett so they could get help with everything down in the bottom field, but she couldn’t leave Winnie. Rowena could go but then who would see to Gladys? She couldn’t look after the pair of them, not if the baby decided to put in an appearance.

  Clara’s arrival with the brandy helped. After telling Rowena to half fill the mugs with tea, Abby poured a generous amount of the spirit into three of them, handing one to Gladys, one to Rowena and drinking one herself. The strong liquor burned its way down her throat and into her stomach, where it created a fireball which ate up the nausea and shakiness and cleared her head. It had a similar effect on Gladys. When she had finished her tea, the farmer’s wife raised her head and said to Winnie, ‘How far apart are the pains, lass?’

  It was a moment or two before Winnie could answer, and then she said, ‘Every . . . every couple of minutes now, I think.’

  Abby took Gladys’s lucidity as a good sign. Her voice brisk, she said, ‘Right, Rowena, you take the lorry and go and fetch the midwife, and tell someone what’s happened with the bomb. We need help, all right?’

  ‘The lorry’s got a flat battery. Don’t you remember someone was coming to fix it tomorrow?’

  ‘Then go on Vincent’s old bicycle.’

  ‘All right.’ Rowena stopped her scramble for the door to say, ‘Are you sure you can cope here?’

  ‘I’ve got Clara.’ Abby smiled encouragingly at her sister who had just finished her own milky tea and had tears running down her face. ‘We’ll be fine.’

  Once Rowena had left, Abby called Clara over to her. ‘I’m sorry I shouted,’ she said softly, ‘but I’m upset. It’s not you, hinny. Now I want you to be a good girl and do everything I tell you. First, fill the kettle and a couple of pans and put them on to boil. We need hot water, lots of it. And then I want you to find all the towels you can and bring them here.’ It was clear they were never going to get Winnie up the narrow staircase and onto her bed.

  ‘There’s some clean sacks in a pile in the scullery too.’ Gladys entered the conversation; her voice was stronger and some colour had returned to her cheeks. ‘I washed them the other day ready for the baby. Bring them an’ all, Clara.’

  ‘Abby?’ Clara’s voice was small and she hadn’t moved. ‘Where’s Farmer Tollett?’

  How did she tell her sister the truth? The farmer had made something of a pet of Clara since the child had joined them, and Abby knew his kindness had gone some way to help Clara over the loss of their father. Abby took a deep breath. ‘You know the big bang you heard earlier? It was a bomb down in the fields and I’m afraid Farmer Tollett was hurt.’

  Big eyes stared directly into Abby’s. ‘Is he dead?’

  Oh, the bluntness of children. Gladys gave a small sound, between a sigh and a moan.

  Abby said gently, ‘Aye, he is, hinny, but it would have been over in a moment and he wouldn’t have felt a thing.’ This was more for Gladys than her sister. ‘Now Winnie’s baby is coming and we’ve got to think about that. I want you to be very brave and help me. Farmer Tollett would have wanted that.’

  Clara stared at her sister. Farmer Tollett was dead, like her da, but it had been a German bomb that had killed him. Mrs Gladys loved Farmer Tollett, she wasn’t like their mam. She pushed her fist into her mouth and bit down on her knuckles as tears ran from her eyes. Abby went to take her sister in her arms but Winnie gave another groan and it was Gladys who picked Clara up and sat her on her lap, the two of them crying together.

  Perhaps it was the best thing to let it all c
ome out now, Abby thought, as she helped Winnie across to the big cushioned settle on the far side of the kitchen. After propping two cushions behind Winnie’s back, Abby saw to the kettle and pans herself, but at this point Gladys wiped her own eyes and those of Clara’s, saying, ‘Come on, child, we’ve got to help your sister. She can’t do this by herself.’ From that point all three of them worked together.

  Winnie’s baby was born just an hour later at half past one in the afternoon. It was a girl, with a mass of black hair, button eyes and a sweet little nose. The cord still attached, Abby, who had delivered the infant, wrapped the tiny morsel in a towel as best she could, laying her across Winnie’s stomach. ‘She’s a beauty, lass, a real beauty,’ Abby said softly, and she was.

  ‘She’s mine, Abby, my own little person.’ Winnie’s tone was such that it brought a lump to everyone’s throats. She touched the baby’s head wonderingly. ‘I’m her mother.’

  Abby hugged her friend, but she knew they weren’t out of the woods yet. Thankfully the birth had gone well with no complications but neither she nor Gladys felt confident to cut the umbilical cord, and Gladys had murmured something about the placenta needing to come away. They couldn’t expect Rowena back with the midwife for at least another hour or so, and that was if Mrs Potts was able to come straightaway.

  Abby was just deciding she had to take the bull by the horns and do the necessary when the door burst open and Rowena flew into the room. Her eyes widened. ‘You’ve had it?’ she said. ‘Oh, Winnie.’ And then she added, looking at Abby, ‘I’ve had some wonderful luck. I met some GIs on the way and I flagged them down. I was going to ask them to run me into the village but it turns out one of them is a doctor and he’s offered to come and help.’ She turned her head to the door, saying, ‘Yes, come in, come in. She’s had the baby.’

  Rowena was inviting an American into the farmhouse? For a second Abby reacted as though Farmer Tollett was still alive. Next to the Germans and the Italians Gladys’s husband had hated the Americans, declaring no English woman was safe within ten miles of a GI, and nothing his long-suffering wife or any of them could say would convince the farmer otherwise. The American base some miles away was never mentioned, neither were the parties the friendly GIs threw for all the local children, where ice cream, chocolate, bananas, oranges and other wartime rarities were apparently freely available. Farmer Tollett had demanded that the three girls give their word that they wouldn’t fraternise with the GIs in any way, and because they liked as well as respected the man, and knew that in his misguided way he had their best interests at heart, they had agreed. But all that was null and void now.

  Abby got to her feet as an American officer, his uniform immaculate, appeared behind Rowena.

  ‘Good afternoon.’ A pair of very dark eyes set in a craggy face swept the room. ‘Is the little lady OK?’

  His manner wasn’t at all presumptuous or loud as she had been half expecting, in fact it verged on the diffident, and Abby immediately warmed to him. ‘I think so,’ she said when it became clear Winnie was too astonished to say a word. ‘The baby’s only just been born though and there’s the cord and everything . . .’ She flapped her hand helplessly. ‘We’re not sure what to do.’

  ‘May I come in, ma’am?’ He spoke directly to Winnie now.

  Her face coloured up before she said, ‘Aye, yes, of course.’

  Rowena, Gladys and Clara disappeared into the scullery, ostensibly to soak the stained towels and sacking, leaving Abby to assist the doctor. By the time the cord had been cut and other necessities dealt with and the doctor had carried Winnie up the stairs to the bedroom - as if her friend was as light as a feather, Abby noticed with some admiration - they’d discovered their knight in shining armour was Captain Ike Wilmot, widower of some five years, no children and only recently landed in Britain.

  ‘You don’t look old enough to have been married,’ said Winnie as the captain deposited her on her bed. This was a lie because he most certainly did. Winnie had found her tongue, however, and was determined to ferret out everything she could about this softly spoken, craggily handsome American.

  He stepped back from the bed, straightened his uniform and grinned. ‘I’m thirty-six, ma’am.’

  ‘Really?’ Winnie grinned back, quite unabashed. And then Abby placed the baby in her arms again and Winnie forgot everyone and everything else. ‘Isn’t she bonny?’ she breathed. The captain and Abby exchanged a smile. ‘I’m going to call her Joy because that’s what I want her life to be full of. Joy Abigail.’ She raised eyes glistening with sudden tears to look at Abby who had come to sit beside her. ‘She won’t look at me and see a stupid fat lump, she’ll just see her mam who loves her all the world.’

  ‘Oh, lass. No one looks at you and sees that. Put that lie out of your head,’ whispered Abby, swallowing hard. Neither of them noticed the captain’s silent and discreet exit.

  Winnie put Joy to the breast and soon afterwards mother and child were both asleep, Joy tucked up in the old crib Farmer Tollett had made for his sons. When Abby went downstairs, she found the captain and another GI, who had presumably been waiting outside, just finishing a cup of tea. Gladys had obviously been crying again. The men’s faces were sober, and as they rose to leave, the captain placed his hand on Gladys’s arm and said softly, ‘Don’t you worry about a thing, ma’am. There’ll be some men along shortly to take care of what needs to be done. I’ll see to it immediately we get back. And I’ll return with them, if I may. I can check on mother and child again, but I’d like to bring you some medication which you should take for the next couple of weeks before you retire. It’ll help you sleep. Will you do that, ma’am?’

  Gladys sniffed and nodded. ‘Thank you, lad,’ she said brokenly, the tears flowing.

  Abby saw the Americans out, leaving Clara and Rowena with Gladys, and as they stepped outside into the warm air, the familiar smells of the farm carried the tinge of what was in the field below and she shivered.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ The captain’s voice was low. ‘You’ve had one heck of a day.’

  She looked up into his tanned face. He was a tall man, very tall, broad-shouldered and with an authoritative air about him, but for all that he had a manner which was immensely reassuring. She supposed it was due to his being a doctor.

  ‘I don’t really know,’ she said truthfully. ‘I feel a bit odd.’

  ‘You’re doing just fine.’

  ‘Now that Winnie’s had the baby, now I know she’s all right, I keep remembering Farmer Tollett and how—’ She stopped, gulping, before carrying on, ‘And poor Gladys, to have seen it all.’

  He nodded. He could have said here that there were more terrible sights than seeing someone blown away in a moment of time, even if it was a loved one. Some people left the earth screaming in an agony which had possessed them for months and months; cancer had done that to his Eleanor, and he had been unable to do anything for her. Him, a doctor. He forced his mind to the young woman at his side. ‘Mrs Tollett will be all right,’ he said quietly. ‘She’s the sort of person who will be able to grieve and that’s very important. Let her cry when she wants to, don’t think it’s bad for her. She’s fortunate to have you all here with her at a time like this. I presume you’ll try and keep the farm going?’

  ‘Oh yes, of course.’ She hadn’t considered anything else. ‘It’ll mean we’ll have to accept some prisoners of war working here, though. I can’t see anything else for it.’

  He nodded. ‘I think you’ll find most of them are just lonely men who are a long way from home and missing their own wives and children. It’s the machinery of war which draws them into the arena, not any wish of theirs to be part of it.’

  ‘You think so?’ James had wanted to go to war, to fight the Germans.

  She was unaware of the shadow in her eyes as she’d spoken, but the captain’s voice was even more gentle when he said, ‘Any idealistic notions are soon dealt with, believe me. Very quickly even the most staunch patriot re
alises they’ve been forced into a mayhem caused by just a very few evil men at the top. Hitler and his minions have to be stopped, of course, along with the Japanese, but there’s nothing fine about the procedure to accomplish it.’

  ‘Don’t get him started on this.’ The other American, a blond, blue-eyed, fair-skinned man, dug his compatriot in the ribs and the captain acknowledged the friendly reproof with one of the slow easy smiles Abby rather thought might be habitual to him.

  The two men made their goodbyes and climbed into the jeep. As they drove away, Abby stood staring after them for a while, until the vehicle disappeared from sight.

  He hadn’t looked back or waved, she mused, but he would be returning soon with the medication for Gladys. And then she caught at the thought, startled by it. What did it matter if Captain Ike Wilmot returned or not? And she hadn’t got time to dilly-dally out here. There were a hundred and one things needing attention, and with all that had happened today the last thing she needed was to stand daydreaming. But it was another few moments before she turned and went back inside the farmhouse.

  Gladys wouldn’t hear of going to lie down or even sitting with her feet up when Abby and Rowena tried to persuade her to take it easy for the rest of the day. ‘I’d rather be working as usual,’ she said stoutly, ‘but thanks all the same. I’ve never sat and twiddled me thumbs in me life and I don’t intend to start now. I’ll be all right. Anyway, with Winnie having had the babbie, someone’s got to see to things in the house and dairy, and Clara will help me. We’ll collect the eggs in a minute and a bit later, Clara, you can take a tray up to Winnie and see the baby.’