by Lorna Peel
INTO THE UNKNOWN
BY
LORNA PEEL
Copyright © 2019 Lorna Peel
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the publisher and author, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be uploaded without the permission of the publisher and author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is originally published.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters and names are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
The publisher and author acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.
Cover photo credit: George Marks/iStock.com
Cover by Rebecca K. Sterling, Sterling Design Studio
Formatting by Polgarus Studio
London on 3 September 1939 is in upheaval. War is inevitable. Into this turmoil steps Kate Sheridan, newly arrived from Ireland to live with her aunt and uncle and look for work. When she meets Flight Lieutenant Charlie Butler sparks fly, but he is a notorious womaniser. Should she ignore all the warnings and get involved with a ladies man whose life will be in daily danger?
Charlie Butler has no intention of getting involved with a woman. But when he meets Kate his resolve is shattered. Should he allow his heart to rule his head and fall for a nineteen-year-old Irish girl while there is a war to fight?
Private conflicts and personal doubts are soon overshadowed. Will Kate and Charlie’s love survive separation, parental disapproval and loss?
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Other Books by Lorna Peel
About The Author
Chapter One
Euston Station, London. Sunday, September 3rd, 1939.
Kate Sheridan opened the train door and, with butterflies fluttering in her stomach, stepped down onto the platform. London at last. Her journey from Ireland had taken three days. Where could she hear the latest news? The ultimatum to the Germans to withdraw from Poland was due to run out this morning. War was all but inevitable.
Glancing up and down the platform for her aunt and uncle, all she could see were hundreds of sobbing children, clinging for dear life to their equally upset parents. She knew it was rude, but she couldn’t help but stare.
“Come on, my love,” a voice from behind her shouted and she jumped. “You’re in the way.”
Picking up her suitcase, Kate moved aside as a man in an army uniform jumped down from the train with a sack-like bag slung over his shoulder.
“Why are all the children here?” she asked.
“The evacuation began the other day,” he explained, lowering the sack to the ground and taking off his side cap. “They’re all being sent to the country for safety. You’re not a Londoner, are you, Miss? What part of Wales are you from?”
“I’m from Ballycarn,” she replied, wincing as a little boy – he couldn’t have been more than six – was pulled screaming away from his mother. “It’s not in Wales, it’s in the west of Ireland.”
The soldier laughed. “Sorry, I thought you were a Taffy, but you’re a Paddy instead. Still, you’d like to hear what old Neville has to say, wouldn’t you?”
“Neville?”
“Neville Chamberlain? The… our Prime Minister. Let’s find a wireless so we can hear him, though I know what he’s going to say.”
Replacing his side cap and hauling the sack onto his shoulder, he grasped Kate’s arm without asking permission and she had to grab her suitcase. They hurried along the platform, weaving in and out of distraught families and porters until they came to a railway guard who took their tickets.
“Is there a wireless nearby we can listen to?” the soldier asked.
“Yes, there’s one in the ticket office,” the guard replied. “Wait outside.”
“Good. Come on, let’s find a seat.”
They sat down outside the ticket office, Kate glancing anxiously around for her aunt and uncle. Had they given up after she hadn’t been on yesterday’s train? If only she hadn’t listened to that woman and followed her ridiculous advice. Still, if they were here, it wasn’t surprising they couldn’t find her in all this chaos.
“Shh.” The soldier nudged her arm even though she had been quiet. Don’t talk to any strange men, unless you absolutely have to, her mother had warned, and now look at her. Not five minutes off the train and she was sharing a bench with a soldier, listening to the wireless, expecting Mr Chamberlain to tell them Britain was at war.
Her father had wanted her to go to America to find work and live with his cousin and family. America was the land of opportunity for so many Irish people, far away from Europe and the threat of war. Her maternal aunt and uncle then offered to take her and help her find work in London. So, despite her father’s grumblings, close family in London were chosen over a cousin she had never met in Philadelphia.
“…and against them, I am certain that the right will prevail.” Mr Chamberlain’s speech ended and a long silence followed.
“You picked a great day to arrive.” The soldier turned to her with a wry smile. “There’s another train going out in a few minutes, you can get on it if you’re quick?”
“No,” she replied. “I’m staying.”
Hearing the opening bars of God Save The King, the butterflies in her stomach began to riot. Should she stand or not? She was Irish but Mummy was English, so she stood respectfully as the small group around the wireless sang the anthem as if the Germans were watching them at that very minute.
When the wireless was switched off, the soldier smiled at her. “What are you Paddies doing in Ireland now, eh? Do you have a national anthem?”
“Yes, we have an anthem,” she told him. “It’s called The Soldier’s Song.”
He roared with laughter. “That’s priceless. We could do with an anthem like that now. Do you want to swap?”
“No.”
“Please yourself.” He saluted her and Kate wasn’t quite sure if he was poking fun at her or not. “I’d better be off. Good luck.”
“Thank you. You too.”
Feeling very alone, she watched him go. No-one had come to meet her so she would have to continue on to her aunt and uncle’s home herself. Wondering if she should take the underground train or the bus, she heard a loud wailing sound and people began hurrying past her.
“Oi, Irish?” It was the soldier beckoning to her. “Quick.”
Fighting the urge to cry with relief, she grabbed her suitcase again and ran to him on shaky legs. “What-what is it?” she stammered.
“Air-raid siren,” h
e said, pulling her out onto the street. “Come on, down here.” Taking the suitcase from her, he pushed her in front of him and down some steep steps. “This is an air-raid shelter; you’ll become familiar with them now you’re staying.”
They sat down on one of two benches parallel to each other and she took the suitcase back.
“Thanks for coming back for me.”
“Don’t worry about it. I knew you wouldn’t know what to do.”
The shelter quickly filled with people. By their white faces, they felt as frightened as she did.
“How long do these air-raids last?” she asked.
“Don’t know,” he replied, lighting a cigarette. “But take my advice, Irish, go to wherever you’re going – and fast. Who knows what’s going to happen now.”
“I will.” She jumped as the door was slammed shut. They all sat in the shelter in silence, apart from the occasional sniff. About ten minutes later, another siren wailed and the soldier patted her hand.
“All clear.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“Nothing to do with me.” He picked up her suitcase and they climbed the steps out of the shelter and walked onto the street. “You’ll be all right, Irish?” he asked, returning her suitcase.
“Yes. Thank you again.”
Watching him walk away for a second time, she realised she should have asked him about buses. Luckily, the elderly woman who had sat beside her was emerging from the shelter. She told Kate the number of the bus she needed, pointing to the bus stop across the street.
Following a lengthy wait, Kate slid off a pile of sandbags as her bus approached. She got on, her stomach rumbling loudly, relieved her long journey was almost over. She peered out of the grimy window as the bus travelled through the London streets, marvelling at the size of the city.
“Your stop.” The bus conductor’s voice brought her out of her thoughts with a jolt. She thanked him as she got off and gazed curiously up the street.
She had last been in London when she was four so couldn’t remember much of her mother’s old home, where her aunt and uncle, grandmother and cousin lived. Like the others on Dunstan Street, number 26 was a Victorian red-bricked semi-detached house with a large garden and a short gravelled drive. Feeling fit to drop, she hauled her suitcase up the steps to the front door and rang the bell. The door was opened by a young maid.
“Oh—” Kate faltered. No-one had told her there were servants. “My name is Kate Sheridan. My aunt and uncle were supposed to meet me at the station, but…” She tailed off and blushed as her stomach growled again.
The maid smiled and held the door open for her. “Do come in, Miss Sheridan. May I take your suitcase and your hat and coat?”
Kate gratefully handed them over before being shown into the drawing room. Three people got to their feet.
“Kate?” Aunt Helen reached her first. “Oh, Kate, what a relief. When you weren’t on yesterday’s train, we didn’t know what to think. Bob went to the station to meet this morning’s train, but it was so chaotic there, he came home again. If you hadn’t arrived by six o’clock this evening, we were going to have to telephone your father.”
“The woman sitting next to me told me I needed to change trains,” Kate explained. “I got off somewhere I shouldn’t have. I had to wait all night for the next train and the station telephone was broken. I heard the war news at Euston Station.”
“Yes, isn’t it awful? You’re as white as a sheet.” Her aunt kissed her cheek. “Pour her a sherry, Bob.”
“There was an air-raid.”
“False alarm.” Her uncle spoke and Kate turned and saw him at a drinks cabinet in a corner of the room. He was wearing a grey-blue uniform with wings on the breast of the tunic. Was Uncle Bob in the Royal Air Force? Yes, Mummy had mentioned something. “Well, let’s have a look at you.” He passed the glass of sherry to her, held her at arm’s length, then grinned and kissed her cheek. “Welcome to London. You have to be careful who you ask for advice, you know?”
“I know.” Kate took a sip of sherry. It was horrible and she put the glass down. She shouldn’t be drinking on an empty stomach, anyway. “A lady at the station I was stranded at told me the woman probably did it on purpose because I was Irish. I managed to get some sleep on the train and I’m just glad I’m here now. Thank you for having me here.”
“Nonsense. It was your mother’s home and it’s yours now,” Barbara, her grandmother, told her before hugging her. “Oh, you’re so like her,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.
“You must be starving.” Her aunt smiled. “When did you last eat?”
“The lady at the station I was stranded at shared some chocolate with me.”
“Hours ago, and you’re just in time for lunch.” Her uncle took her arm and led her out of the room, across the hall, and into the dining room. The large room had vertically striped yellow and white wallpaper and was dominated by a huge dining table and six chairs. “You were twelve, weren’t you, when Helen and I came to Ireland? Well, you’ve certainly grown since then.”
Kate smiled as she sat down. She was five foot eight but was still towered over by her uncle. Robert ‘Bob’ Williams looked like a matinee idol – tall, dark and handsome with twinkling eyes. She liked him right away.
Aunt Helen was her mother’s younger sister. She was very thin, which made her seem taller than she actually was. She had dyed black hair, red lips, and was dressed in a severe blue outfit and Kate realised she looked very much like the Duchess of Windsor.
Barbara, her grandmother, refused to dress in anything but the clothes of her youth – the long black skirts and white leg-of-mutton sleeved blouses of the late Victorian and early Edwardian era.
Kate smiled to herself. Her father had been right, her maternal grandmother was definitely a bit of an eccentric.
Compared to the other three seated at the dining room table, Kate felt very drab in her ‘practical for travelling’ grey dress. She hadn’t any make-up on because, according to her Irish grandmother, it was only worn by ‘fast girls’. She would have to see how much money her parents had given her, then go out and buy a London outfit and some makeup. She’d left home, she was a grown-up now, so she should at least try and look the part.
“You look very pale, dear,” her aunt commented. “Are you all right? Do you feel ill at all?”
“No-no, I,” she stammered. “I’m just very hungry and tired. And the war, I did hope…”
“So did we all, Kate,” her uncle replied. “But Hitler, well,” he sighed, “Hitler had other ideas. So I’m back in the RAF.”
“You’re flying aeroplanes?”
“No.” He gave a kind laugh. “I’m afraid aeroplanes have changed a bit since I was last in one. No, I’m in dispatch, so to speak.”
Kate looked down at the bowl the maid placed on the table in front of her. Vegetable soup, and it smelled delicious. He was being deliberately vague. Whatever he was doing must be top secret.
“Your mother wrote and told me you started a course after you finished school. Did you enjoy it?” her grandmother asked.
“Yes, thank you. I went to a Commercial College and I passed all my exams.”
“Congratulations.” Her aunt smiled. “What sort of job are you looking for?”
Kate helped herself to a roll from a dish in the centre of the table. “That’s the thing, Aunt Helen, I don’t know. I do know shorthand and typing now, though.”
“Shorthand and typing?” Her aunt sounded impressed.
“I was better at book-keeping,” she added, feeling a blush creep across her cheeks. “I couldn’t type quite as fast as some of the other girls.”
“Even so. How is everyone?”
“They’re very well, thank you, but Daddy didn’t want me to come here.”
“Yes, we do know what your father is like,” her aunt declared and her husband gave her a frown.
Kate squirmed. She knew her aunt thought her sister had married beneath her – a small-time
solicitor from Ireland – but her father couldn’t help being the way he was. One of her earliest memories of him was when he heard that his brother, wounded in the Irish Civil War of 1922-23, had died. She would never forget how her father had cried like a child.
“But I was determined to come here,” she went on. “I have a letter for you from Mummy. It’s in my suitcase; I’ll get it for you when I unpack.”
“Millie will be unpacking for you. I’m sure she’ll come across it.”
“Oh,” Kate replied, then fell silent. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of a stranger going through her clothes, some were very old-fashioned. “Where’s Toby?” she asked, finding her voice. “I can’t wait to meet him again.”
“He’s across the road as usual.” Her aunt rolled her eyes. “He spends more time at number 25 than he does here. His best friend Clive lives there, and I saw Charlie.” She turned to her husband. “He was showing off his new uniform.”
Uncle Bob laughed. “Charlie’s very proud of his RAF uniform. They are very smart, but I suppose we’ll all get fed up of them in time.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” his wife exclaimed before turning back to Kate. “Toby’s going back to school tomorrow. He boards, so I’m afraid you won’t have very much time to get to know him. Still, there will be more holidays. I’m bringing him to the train in the morning. Why don’t you come and then I can show you all the best shops?”
Kate hesitated. Did she have enough money for all the best shops? It would be rude to refuse and she would be able to see the styles, then she could see if the cheaper shops stocked something similar.
“Thank you, Aunt. Mummy never stopped talking about the shops.”
“Good girl.”
“Kate?” Her uncle hailed her and she turned to him. “You don’t have to be so polite. You’re nearly nineteen, so call me Bob and your aunt Helen.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He smiled. “Now tuck in.”
