by June Francis
Part 4
1944
Chapter 36
Liverpool: May 1944
Grace came to a halt outside Milly’s house and put on the brake of the pram. She unfastened Peter’s straps and lifted him out, and held onto the back of his harness as she set the curious two-year-old on his feet. She thought of her daughter who was now at infant school, and how despite the war and Ben’s absence, her early years had seemed to fly by. Milly and Jimmy’s children, John and Mary were also at school. Despite the trouble with travelling around the country, Milly and Jimmy had just taken them to North Wales for the Whitsun bank holiday week to visit Jimmy’s mother. Jimmy’s aunt, who lived in Southend-on-Sea, had also accompanied them, as she was eager to catch up with her sister.
Grace had been invited, and would have enjoyed a few days away with them, as she liked the company of Jimmy’s aunt – Ben and her had gotten to know her over the years before the war, whenever she had visited Jimmy and Milly. However, Grace knew it would not be easy coping with her two on holiday without a helping hand, and Milly had enough on her plate with her own family. However, Grace was looking forward to hearing all their news today over a cup of tea. Surely the war in Europe could not go on much longer, she wondered.
Her thoughts soon turned to Simon who had joined the navy just after his eighteenth birthday, a year ago last December. Somehow Simon had managed to get pally with some local sailors who were great admirers of a Captain Johnny Walker, a war hero, known for leading a fleet on escort duty out of Liverpool, with the aim of destroying the German U-boat menace in the Atlantic and the Irish Sea. The Western Approaches Command headquarters was situated in Liverpool and on hearing of Captain Walker’s escapades, Simon was determined, as soon as he possibly could, to be involved in destroying the submarines that had ruined so many Liverpudlians’ lives. It seemed to Grace that in no time at all, Simon was through his training and on board a vessel under the captain’s command. Simon had told Grace with glee that the captain’s rallying cry was ‘A-hunting we will go!’ She smiled when she thought back to Simon’s last leave, which luckily coincided with his nineteenth birthday just before Christmas, and how smart he had looked in his new uniform. She was so proud of her stepson, and his joy was clear to see, as joining up had been his life’s ambition since the war had started when he was just a young lad.
She did miss having him around, especially now that Fergie, their dog, had passed away. But her young children kept her busy enough and her stepson managed to get home quite regularly to see Barbara who was now a qualified nurse working at Alder Hey hospital. Over the past few years the young couple had continued to be sweet on each other and Grace suspected that they would get engaged soon. Grace was pleased for them, as she liked the young nurse very much, and could only hope Simon would return home from the war, just as she prayed Ben would.
As she sat down for tea with her friend, it turned out that Milly had news for Grace. Jimmy’s aunt had spotted Ben in a teashop in Southend. When Milly first mentioned it, Grace could not understand why her husband would be in Southend, and in a teashop of all places.
‘At least he wasn’t in a pub getting drunk,’ she joked, to hide her confusion.
‘He was with a woman,’ cautioned her friend gently.
‘How old did she look?’ Grace asked, thinking the woman could have been Anne, the wife of the journalist Andrew. The couple often shared Andrew’s press insights into global news events with their friends. Grace felt immediately comforted by this thought. She knew occasionally Ben went to visit Anne and Andrew from his military base in the south, normally when he was granted leave for an afternoon and there wasn’t time for him to make the long journey back to Merseyside. But normally let Grace know of his plans. Why hadn’t Ben told her about this visit to Anne and Andrew? Besides which, what was he doing meeting the woman alone in a teashop?
‘Late thirties, dark hair, intense-looking.’
‘Not Anne then,’ said Grace lightly, having realised seconds before it could not have been Anne with Ben anyway, as Jimmy’s aunt would have recognised her, as they were neighbours. A cold shiver snaked down her spine. Her worst fears were being realised. Maybe that was why she hadn’t heard from Ben for a while! Who was this woman and what did she mean to Ben? How was she to find out, she thought desperately. No use writing to Ben himself, as she hadn’t had a reply to her last two letters. She had assumed he had been too busy to write, or that the post had gone astray, as was sometimes the case, but now… the room spun a little in front of her.
Batting away Milly’s concerned questioning, Grace excused herself as soon as she could, and hurried home with Peter. There, with shaking hands, she hurriedly prepared something for the two of them to eat, but found she could not swallow a bite. After clearing away the dishes, she decided to go for a walk in the park to clear her head. On the way, she thought to visit Alice. The kindly Scotswoman remained very fond of Peter and had continued to live, along with her lodgers, Barbara and her mother, next door to Grace’s uncle and cousin. Grace’s uncle Douglas had found peace tending the large joint vegetable garden, while her cousin Beryl continued to write regularly to her American Prince Charming, Lieutenant Campbell, who was now based at an airbase in the Home Counties.
* * *
On settling down in her friend’s familiar front room, Grace’s anger at Ben poured out. Alice listened carefully to Grace’s passionate account. She then picked up her knitting and thought a while before suggesting gently that perhaps Grace should be prepared to make the journey down to see Ben before she jumped to further conclusions. Alice had been married a long while before the death of her husband and knew a thing or two about the peaks or troughs in a marriage. She went on to remind Grace that possibly Ben might be a little homesick, which was why he had sought out the company of his friends, before adding quietly that she and Barbara could take care of the children if Grace were to go and visit him alone, if she so wanted.
At first Grace felt dissatisfied with her friend’s calm handling of the situation, as she felt herself very much the aggrieved party. However, she promised to sleep on the matter and soon after took her leave with Peter before it got too late.
After a sleepless night, she decided that Alice was right, and she needed to see Ben face to face. She had never doubted Ben’s faithfulness to her before, and if she had ever been jealous, it was only of his first wife whom he had lost when he was so young. But why hadn’t she heard from him? Besides, if he was feeling homesick why couldn’t he have made the journey to Liverpool instead of to Southend? And who was this dark-haired woman?
Later the next afternoon, feeling resolved, she visited Alice again. ‘So, you’re going to go and visit Ben,’ attuned Alice as she saw Grace’s set, tired face on opening the door.
‘Yes! The only thing I can’t decide about is whether I should write and tell him that I’m coming.’
‘What reason are you going to give?’ Alice asked.
‘The truth. I think we need some time alone to talk.’
‘I suppose that’s fair enough,’ said Alice, inviting Grace in, and taking a bottle of sherry from the sideboard cupboard she poured some into two sherry glasses. ‘The pair of you need to decide on a date – to make sure he’s not on duty and where you’re to meet.’
Alice realised that it did no good to meddle in the affairs of the heart, so offered no more advice, yet she had seen how Ben looked at Grace when he thought no one else was paying attention. But Grace needed to discover her husband’s intentions for herself. She handed Grace one of the glasses, and looked thoughtfully at her young friend over the rim of her own glass, while she slowly sipped her drink.
Chapter 37
Oxford: June 1944
Grace was surprised by how eager she was at the thought of going alone to see her husband after she received Ben’s response to her letter in which she raised the idea. In writing, Grace had made no mention of the missing replies to her letters or to Milly’s report
about Ben and certain women in Southend teashops. She had expected Ben to suggest that they meet in London, but instead he had told her to meet him in Oxford on 10th June. He had requested leave, which had been granted, and had booked a room for them for three nights at the Mitre hotel on the High Street and would wait for her to join him there.
Grace read and re-read his letter, scanning it for clues as to what her husband was thinking. But the most she could take from it was a gruff enthusiasm for the plan. Ben was not a man prone to softness, something which Grace knew well, but for a moment, she thought back wistfully to their conversation following their return from their honeymoon when they had been paddling on the beach. Even then the two of them knew that there would be little time for gallivanting and romantic frivolities once they’d settled down to the daily grind of married life, but neither of them could have foreseen the extent to which the war would pull them in different directions and rob them of being able to decide when to spend time together without asking for permission for it first.
The night before her trip to Oxford, Grace took the children to Alice’s and stayed over with them. She was up early the following morning and after kissing Irene and Peter without waking them, she hurried out of the house and caught the tram into town in time to board a train to Birmingham, where she would change for the train direct to Oxford. The journey seemed to take an age, but eventually she arrived in the city, and there she asked the ticket collector for directions to the Mitre hotel. She had no trouble finding it and stood outside for a moment, wondering whether she should carry on waiting outside or go inside, as she wasn’t sure when Ben would be able to get there; transport across country being what it was. A few moments later she felt a tap on her shoulder, and she was whirled around straight into a man’s arms. As she gazed into Ben’s familiar tanned face, she thought his expression was strained.
Her tummy did a flip, and the old fears about the mysterious woman crowded her head. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ she asked, alarmed.
‘Why should you think anything is wrong?’ Ben asked before lowering his head and kissing her firmly on the lips.
Confused by the strength of the kiss amid her tumultuous feelings of anger, Grace’s mind reeled as she allowed Ben to take her hand and lead her inside the hotel. Here he paused at reception to introduce her as his wife, before he asked for their room key. It was not until they were inside their room and Ben had helped her off with her creased travelling jacket that Grace’s anger and unease from the last few days came to a head.
Without preamble, she blurted out, ‘Is it another woman? Tell me, is there?’
Ben’s eyes narrowed and he reached for a cigarette and lit up. ‘Someone been gossiping?’ he asked, smoke escaping from his nostrils, making him close his eyes momentarily.
‘Why are you smoking?’ Grace asked, distracted for a moment. She used the chance to move away from Ben and went to sit on the stool in front of the dressing table where she could watch his expression.
‘I find it helps when out on watch on the gun placement.’
‘Surely not more stressful than the blitz was back home?’
‘I had you to help me with the stress then. You’re a tough woman, Grace.’
‘I’m glad you found me a comfort,’ she said. ‘But for most of the bombing I’ve had to cope without you,’ she said, a tremor in her voice. ‘And by all accounts, it looks like I might have to carry on doing that if you’ve got yourself some sort of fancy woman—’ here she broke into a sob.
‘What woman? Whatever do you mean?’ Ben asked her urgently.
‘Jimmy’s aunt – she saw you with her – she saw the two of you in a teashop in Southend.’
‘Josephine? Did Anne tell you? Or Andrew?’ Ben stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray.
‘Anne? No,’ Grace shook her head in confusion. ‘Josephine – who is that? Is she the woman?’ she said, holding her head high despite the tears in her eyes.
‘So, that’s why you suggested this plan to meet up! I thought you were missing me… but you came down because you didn’t trust me—’
‘No, I came because I was determined to make you realise what you’d be losing if you made the mistake of tossing me and our children aside.’
He looked incredulous. ‘How can you even think I’d make such a mistake?’
‘Because you’re a man of action, but few words… Because I don’t get to see you properly these days, I can’t make sense of it. I haven’t had any letters from you for weeks and you’re so distant… and because—’ here, she hesitated, unsure of how to continue, ‘—ever since you thought I’d tried to meet up with Dougie that night he hit Simon, I don’t know, it’s just not the same for us…’ Grace cried in despair.
At the sight of his wife weeping, Ben crossed the room in one move. ‘Grace, Grace, luv, come now – there’s no need for this. I am sorry, I never meant to doubt you.’ At Ben’s words, Grace looked up at her husband’s eyes, and realised that there would be no need for further conversation for a while. With her heart singing, and without more ado, she drew Ben close and kissed him.
Later, after a long magical half an hour and a bath together, they lay side by side, holding hands in bed. As she cuddled up to her husband under the bedcovers, Grace said, ‘You’d better tell me what you were thinking of sharing a table with this Josephine in a tearoom then. And what’s Anne and Andrew got to do with it?’
Ben smiled down at her head nestled below him. ‘Josephine is a member of the French Resistance. Andrew knew of her through his press contacts and introduced me to her when I went down to see him and Anne for an afternoon in May. Andrew had met Josephine before and thought her story might be of interest to me. I didn’t mention my going to visit them to you, as what happened is not something you can write in a letter – I was saving it for when I next saw you.’ He gave her a little squeeze under the covers before continuing, ‘Josephine’s French, and she’s been helping British troops who were parachuted into France gain information about where the Jerries are stationed in her country.’
‘Did she fall in love with an English parachutist then? Is that why she’s over here? What’s this all got to do with you?’ asked Grace eagerly, half-convinced Ben was making this story up, as it seemed a little far-fetched, like something she’d see at a movie.
‘No, Josephine is already married – to an Englishman she met during the last war.’ Again, Ben squeezed her, a little pointedly this time. Grace made a small grimace and buried her face in his chest. He went on, ‘That’s why she’s over here now. I don’t know the details, but a returning British soldier brought her back with him when he was flown out.’
‘What about her husband?’ asked Grace, puzzled.
‘He’s blind.’ Ben’s voice quivered. ‘Apparently, sometime during the Great War, Josephine found him, wandering lost in a wood on her father’s farm in France and took him home with her. The husband couldn’t remember his name or where he was from – his nerves were shot to pieces. The French family felt sorry for him and offered him shelter. Before long he had settled down so well on the farm that they decided to let him stay. Besides, they still didn’t know his name.’ Ben shrugged. ‘The rural life seemed to suit him. By then it was the 1920s or early 1930s and he was so much part of the family they didn’t want to part with him. Although he couldn’t do much to look after the sheep, he learnt to milk their cow, and was good with his hands. Josephine said he could turn a simple piece of wood into different objects – tools and the like, or even a toy dog or a horse for children – things which they were able to sell.’ Ben paused.
‘Go on,’ urged Grace, a vague memory lurking on the edge of her consciousness.
‘Then one day they were listening to a football match on the wireless and one of the teams playing was Liverpool. It seemed to trigger a memory in the former soldier’s mind and he said the word “Anfield” and something about the colour red.’
Grace could hear that tremor in Ben’s voice again.
‘So, what caused Josephine to come to England now, as this must have happened a while ago?’ she asked slowly.
‘The two married, and eventually Josephine gave birth to a son. She wanted to call the boy after her father, but her husband kept saying the baby’s name was Ben.’
Grace’s eyes widened. ‘Did Josephine begin to wonder if her husband was already married and had a son called Ben in Liverpool or something like that?’ she whispered.
