‘And I love you too,’ he told her, his own voice husky as he stroked her silky curls.
Thomas added his own pleas to his sister’s. ‘We’ll be ever so good if only you’ll stay,’ he pleaded.
‘You’re always good. But I have to go back to the hospital now.’
‘Will you come back soon?’
‘I can’t promise how soon,’ David told them honestly. ‘But just as soon as the war is over this will be the first place I’ll head for,’ he promised, silently praying that he would be alive to keep it.
‘An’ when you come back will you be our daddy?’ Daisy implored innocently.
Kathy’s eyes stretched wide as David looked at her over the twins’ heads and suddenly she realised how much he had come to mean to her. She had dreamed of Ben returning for so long, but now it hit her that he had never really cared for her, let alone loved her. She had offered herself to him on a plate but now she could see what had happened for what it was. To him it had been no more than a fling: she was there, she had made herself available to him and he had taken advantage of the fact. She wasn’t even sure now that she’d ever loved him, not truly – it was more like idolisation, a silly teenage crush, nothing at all like what she now realised she felt for David.
Conscious that David was still staring at her avidly she gave him a wobbly smile as he finally answered, ‘If your mummy would allow it there is nothing I would like better than to be your daddy.’
Then somehow, she was in his arms and his lips were on hers and she felt her heart swell with love for him.
‘I think that’s an excellent idea,’ she said gruffly when they finally drew apart. Sunday was watching with a broad smile on her face, and suddenly feeling self-conscious, Kathy gently pushed him away, saying, ‘But now you’d better be off. You don’t want to miss your train.’
‘Come on, children, let’s go and wait outside while David and Mummy say their goodbyes,’ Sunday urged, shepherding the twins ahead of her.
‘Did you mean it, Kathy, or did you say that just for the sake of the children?’ David looked as if all his birthdays and Christmases had come at once as he took her in his arms again and she laid her head against his shoulder.
‘I mean it.’ She stared up at him with tears glistening on her long lashes. ‘I think I’ve loved you for a long time but didn’t admit it to myself.’
Her words, so long awaited, were like music to his ears. ‘Well now you have and from now on I want you to write to me at least once a month. I want to know everything you and the twins have been up to. Do you promise?’
She nodded but there was no more time for at that moment they heard George stop outside in the pony and trap to give him a lift to the station. Petrol was heavily rationed and hard to come by and David had told George that he could walk, but George wouldn’t hear of it.
‘The exercise will do the horse good,’ he had insisted.
David looked deep into Kathy’s glorious eyes for one last time, committing every feature of her face to memory. ‘I love you more than you’ll ever know,’ he said throatily, then lifting his kitbag he slung it across his shoulder and strode away before he broke down. At the door he paused just once to tell her, ‘And when I get home after this bloody war is over, we’ll be married as soon as possible. All right?’
She nodded numbly and wept as the door closed softly behind him. She had been such a fool. But I’ll make it up to him, she promised herself. And then she prayed with all her being that he would come home safely. It would be just too cruel if he didn’t.
‘Well it certainly took you long enough to realise what a lovely chap David is,’ Sunday remarked when they had tucked the children into bed later that evening. ‘But at least you saw sense in the end.’
Kathy grinned. She hadn’t felt so happy for a long time. ‘We’re going to be married as soon as the war is over,’ she informed her mother and Sunday’s face lit up.
‘I’m delighted to hear it. At least that’s one of you I won’t have to worry about. Now I just have to make Livvy see the light.’
Kathy cocked her eyebrow as she carried the children’s dirty clothes to the wash basket. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I should think it’s obvious.’ Sunday grinned as she poured some milk into a saucepan for their cocoa. ‘She and Giles are mad about each other, it’s as clear as the noses on their faces, but the stupid pair are too stubborn to admit their feelings for each other.’
Kathy frowned. She had never really thought about it before but now, as she pictured them together, she supposed that her mother could be right.
‘Ah well, what will be will be,’ she said, and Sunday nodded in agreement.
‘You’re quite right. I just hope they make it soon.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
May 1941
‘Kathy, wake up! The sirens are wailing,’ Sunday urged as she hurried into her daughter’s room and urgently shook her arm. ‘We need to get the children downstairs into the shelter.’
‘Wh-what?’ Kathy mumbled groggily as she knuckled sleep from her eyes, and then hearing the sirens she was instantly awake. Scrambling out of bed she rushed into the twins’ room and as she lifted Daisy, who didn’t even stir, Sunday crossed to Thomas’s bed and lifted him. They made their way downstairs in darkness with the children clutched tightly in their arms and struggling towards the shelter in the kitchen they knelt down and gently laid them on the blankets that they always kept there. This was not the first raid that Nuneaton had suffered, and they had got into a routine now.
‘There, they didn’t even wake up.’ Kathy gave a big yawn. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t go on for too long so we can get them back to bed.’ Crossing to the fire she stirred it into life with a poker and then threw on some of the wood that she had collected from the copse. Even coal was getting harder to buy now but as they were surrounded by trees, thankfully they always had enough fuel to keep the house warm and cosy.
‘Fancy a brew?’ Kathy asked as she lit the oil lamp. Scarcely had the words left her mouth when they heard the drone of enemy planes overhead.
Sunday shuddered. ‘I bet they’re heading for Birmingham again,’ she muttered tiredly. ‘God help the poor souls.’
Kathy nodded and she had only just filled the kettle when the sound of an explosion sounded in the distance. ‘Dear God, it sounds like our town is getting it again,’ she muttered. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t go on for too long.’
Dousing the light, she crossed to the window and twitched the blackout curtains aside to peer up into the sky. ‘My God, they’re dropping incendiary bombs,’ she gasped, horrified. ‘And with the moon so bright tonight and the fires from the incendiaries everything beneath will be an easy target.’
Sunday joined her and her heart leapt into her mouth as she watched the deadly planes releasing their bombs. It looked like the majority of the town was being hit and she could only pray that being a little way out of it they would be safe.
They were still there when an urgent banging came on the back door and when Sunday hurried to answer it, still in her dressing gown with her long grey hair hanging in a plait across her shoulder, she found John standing there with George behind him.
‘We’ve come to take you all up to the house,’ he told her in a voice that brooked no argument. ‘It’s not safe for you all to be here.’
‘But the children are safe and asleep in the Morrison shelter,’ Sunday pointed out.
He shook his head. ‘That’s as may be but where will you and Kathy shelter if they drop any bombs before they get to the town? There isn’t enough room in that for all four of you, so come along and stop arguing. I won’t take no for an answer. I have a horrible feeling this is going to be the worst raid yet.’
Seeing that he meant business, she allowed him and George to push past her to get the children.
‘I’ll just get dressed and then I’ll follow you,’ she told him, but he shook his head.
‘Just throw a coat and some sho
es on. There’s no time for messing about. I have the cellar all ready for us.’
Sunday and Kathy did as they were told and soon they were hurrying along the drive, which was thankfully shrouded on either side by trees that were now in leaf. The sounds of the planes overhead and the explosions were so loud outside that they couldn’t hear themselves speak so they just concentrated on getting the children to safety as soon as possible.
Once inside Treetops John urged them towards the cellar door and as they descended the stairs, she saw Edith there with Peggy fast asleep on her lap. Cissie was there too and Sunday was pleasantly surprised at how cosy they had made it. An oil lamp and candles were burning, illuminating the long row of wine racks and John had taken down a table and some chairs and a primus stove, on which stood a kettle that was just coming to the boil. He had also brought some old wing chairs down from the loft for the adults to sit comfortably in and there were padded benches arranged along one wall for the children to lie on.
‘There, they’ll be as snug as bugs in rugs on there,’ Cissie declared once the children were comfortably settled and covered in blankets. ‘Now, who’s fer a nice cup o’ tea?’
She set out some cups then produced a cake tin full of scones she had made earlier that day.
‘There’s carrots instead o’ fruit inside ’em,’ she apologised. ‘An’ I’m afraid I never thought to bring any jam. But at least they’ll fill a hole till breakfast.’
‘The good lord knows what we’ll find out there tomorrow,’ John said sombrely, once they had settled back in the chairs and were tucking in to the scones, and they all nodded in agreement, their thoughts and prayers with the people in the town.
It was a very long night, and just as George had forecast it was the worst raid they had had to date, and it seemed to go on forever. It was almost dawn when the all-clear finally sounded and by that time it didn’t seem worth waking the children to go to their beds.
‘Let them have their sleep down here,’ Cissie whispered as the adults all climbed the stairs and went outside. They were horrified at the sight that met their eyes for a huge black cloud of smoke hung over the town in the distance.
‘We’d better get dressed and drive into town to see if there’s anything we can do,’ John said to George soberly. ‘They might need volunteers to dig for survivors if any houses have been hit.’
‘But ain’t you two a bit long in the tooth to be doin’ things like that?’ Cissie asked bluntly. ‘Why don’t yer leave it to the young ’uns?’
‘Most of the young men are away fighting,’ John pointed out. ‘And judging by that cloud I have a feeling the town will need all the help it can get. What say you, George?’
‘I’m up for it,’ George said heartily. ‘We ain’t quite past it yet. You wait there an’ I’ll go an’ get the car. I should be savin’ petrol really, but this is an emergency.’
Ten minutes later the men set off to see what could be done to help leaving the women to see to the children.
The extent of the damage became apparent when they reached the bottom of Tuttle Hill and turned into Manor Court Road. Whole houses lay in ruins, some still ablaze as firefighters battled to douse the flames. In other places women and children were digging amongst the ruins with their bare hands as they desperately searched for survivors.
The bodies that had been recovered had been laid out at the sides of the road and covered with sheets provided by people whose houses still stood, and a tiny little girl clutching tight to a teddy bear was sitting on a kerb, her hair thick with brick dust as tears streamed down her dirty cheeks, leaving white trails through the grime.
‘Poor little bugger,’ a firefighter who saw John looking towards her said. ‘Luckily she was asleep in a Morrison shelter when we found her but her mam, dad an’ brother all copped it. The neighbours have sent for her grandparents so hopefully they’ll take her in.’
Grim-faced, John nodded before asking, ‘What can we do to help?’
Training his hose higher onto the fire he was trying to bring under control the fireman told him, ‘Just dig if you’re able. But be careful – if you smell gas step away. This whole place is a ticking time bomb with so many damaged gas pipes about.’
As the morning progressed more bad news filtered through to them. The majority of the town had been hit and already over a hundred dead had been found. Chilvers Coton Church and the surrounding churchyard had taken a hit too and they heard that there were headstones and the bones of disturbed bodies all over the place.
John shuddered at the thought. It seemed that the Luftwaffe had no respect for the British people whatsoever, be they alive or dead. Even the injured had had to be turned away from the hospital because that had been hit too.
Women from the WVS appeared bearing flasks of tea and sandwiches as the morning wore on and George and John stopped to take a well-deserved break. They had both seen sights during the day that would stay with them forever: an old couple still in their bed, which had fallen through the ceiling, their arms clasped tight about each other. Dead cats and dogs – someone’s beloved pets. Children with wide, staring eyes, their mouths open as they had screamed for their parents. The two men felt as though they had been caught in the grip of a nightmare. And then shortly after lunchtime the army appeared and an officer approached John and George to tell them kindly, ‘Why don’t you two go home and get some rest now? My lads will take over. But thank you for all you’ve done. The people hereabouts have told me you’ve both worked like slaves all day.’
Both men were now almost dropping with fatigue and they nodded numbly. Their clothes and shoes were ruined, every muscle in their bodies was screaming a protest and yet had they been asked they would both have said they would not have done things any differently. The one bright spot in the whole day had been when they had managed to pull a screaming baby from the ruins. How the little tot had managed to survive beneath all the bricks and debris they had no idea, but it had made all their hard work worthwhile.
‘What do you reckon, George? Shall we call it a day?’
George nodded. ‘Aye, I reckon so. An’ when I get home, I’m gonna sleep the clock round. That’s if there ain’t another raid tonight o’ course.’
The following day they discovered that over ten thousand homes had been damaged, three hundred and eighty had been completely destroyed, and a hundred and thirty people had lost their lives. Most of the munition factories had been flattened as well as the church and part of the hospital. It had been the worst raid that the market town had suffered so far during the war and one that those who had survived it would never forget.
Chapter Forty
Throughout May the war seemed to escalate, and London was bombed relentlessly, but then the British people knew sweet revenge when the German’s newest and fastest battleship, the Bismarck – the pride of their fleet – was chased by over a hundred British vessels and sunk in the Atlantic.
‘Serves the buggers right!’ George said heartily as they all sat in the kitchen at Treetops listening to the radio report. At John’s insistence Sunday, Kathy and her family had not returned to the lodge since the night of the raid, except to collect their clothes, and although it had felt strange to be back in Treetops at first, sometimes now Sunday found it hard to believe that they had ever been away. John had even ensured that both Sunday and Kathy were back in their old bedrooms and all in all the arrangement was working well.
The twins loved living there and now that she had them to play with Peggy was slowly coming out of her shell again after the loss of her brother.
That was why it was such a shock when Sunday opened the door one bright May morning to find two very official-looking people standing there, a man and a woman.
The man was smartly dressed in a trilby hat and overcoat while the woman was small and straight-faced.
‘We’ve come to see Mr John Willerby,’ the woman informed Sunday imperiously. ‘Are you the maid?’
‘No, I am not the maid,’ Sun
day answered indignantly. ‘But if you’d care to come in, I’ll see if I can find him for you.’
She showed them into the drawing room, which was scattered with toys the children had been playing with earlier, before hurrying off to track John down. As she had expected, he was ensconced in his study and after tapping at the door she went in. ‘There are two people here to see you, John, and I have a feeling they might be something to do with Peggy.’
His face clouded. ‘Oh dear!’ But then with a nod he rose and followed her back across the hallway.
‘Good morning, I am John Willerby. How may I help you?’ he asked as he entered the room and held out his hand.
‘Actually, I believe it is we who may be able to help you,’ the small, bird-like woman answered with an oily smile. John instantly took a dislike to her.
‘I am Miss Tyler from the welfare department in the East End of London and Mr Parsons here is the housemaster at an orphanage we use to place children who have been bereaved of their parents. I believe you have Peggy Walker staying here with you?’
John nodded. ‘We do and she’s doing remarkably well, all things considered, which I told you on the phone the last time we spoke.’
‘Good, good,’ she said with a false smile as she seated herself and folded her hands neatly in her lap. ‘It has been very good of you to allow her to come here as an evacuee. But of course we must be responsible for her now that she has no family to return to when the war is over.’
‘Why?’ John said brusquely. ‘The child is quite welcome to stay here.’
‘Ah, but you must understand that it isn’t as simple as that,’ Miss Tyler twittered. ‘We have a responsibility to the child.’
‘Like you had when she lived at home and her father interfered with her?’ John spat and the little woman paled as her gloved hand rose to her mouth.
He leaned towards her then to tell her in no uncertain terms, ‘Peggy is happier here than she ever was in London. She’s safer too because we live in a village so have less chance of being bombed. It’s taken her a while to get over the deaths of her brother and family and now you turn up out of the blue and tell me that you know what’s best for her? I don’t think so! You’ve never even met her!’
Time to Say Goodbye Page 23
