Worlds Between

by Sherry D. Ficklin

  “I know I can trust him,” I said. It was meant to come out fierce, but I was too weak for the full emotion to find its voice.

  “He’s a stranger,” Bickerstaff challenged.

  “Not to me,” I replied.

  “But how? How can you be sure of that?”

  “I have my reasons,” I replied, my face suddenly as stone-like as his.

  Bickerstaff narrowed his eyes at me. “You know something we don’t.” It wasn’t a question.

  I nodded, but gave no reply.

  ***

  We spent Henri’s birthday under a tree drinking orange pop and trying to talk about subjects that didn’t lead back to the war. The news of Clive and Ieuan had shaken Leigh out of his selfish reverie, so if one good thing had come from the darkness it was the fact that my brother had finally actually gotten to know Henri. He even sang Happy Birthday in what he called ‘The Proper English Way’, laughing so hard he could barely get the words out for lack of breath:

  “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you; you look like a monkey and you smell like one too!”

  Henri laughed for the first time in what seemed like forever and a warmth settled in my chest, like things were finally going to get back to normal. I sat in the dehydrated grass supporting my back against the tree trunk, looking out across the pasture at the now-empty Pengelly Cottage. Henri was sleeping in what was usually Ieuan’s room at Ty Gwyn, but he didn’t seem to like spending much time in the room at all when he was conscious. I could relate, knowing now that I was sleeping in the sitting room of a man who would never come home to it again was a hard thing to bear if I dwelt on it too much, but I was getting better at not letting those thoughts ruin every day. We all were, except for Mam.

  When Leighton went to get more pop, Henri came to the tree and sat down beside me, putting a long arm around my shoulders and pulling me in. He kissed the side of my head gently, his warm breath sinking into my hair. He hadn’t tried to kiss me properly again even when there had been opportunity for it, and I was sort of grateful for that. As much as I wanted to feel that tingling, only-us-in-the-world sensation again, right now the atmosphere just wasn’t right. But we were always close to one another when we had the chance, I had gotten so used to his arms around me that it felt like some part of me was missing when he wasn’t there.

  “I’ll have to go into the village tomorrow,” he whispered, “to pass my enlistment papers to the right people.”

  An invisible blade sank slowly into my fragile heart, but I had always known this day was coming.

  “It’ll take them a while to process it,” I said hopefully, “I bet they’ve already got loads of boys waiting to go to basic training.”

  “Perhaps,” he said softly, his lips still resting against my head.

  I turned sharply to face him, searching his deep brown eyes. “I don’t want you to go,” I said, racing to find his hand to hold it tightly.

  “I won’t really be gone,” he replied, “You’ll always be able to find me.”

  “That’s not the point,” I said, my curls shaking as I trembled, “This is dangerous Henri, this is war.”

  “You forget where I’ve been already,” he said, turning his face away to focus hard on the distance. He kept a firm hold of my hand and gave it a good squeeze. “You came to my head in the quiet times, the safe times. But I’ve already seen the destruction, the danger and the death, Kit. I think there are two types of people during war: those who see the horror happening and run away, never looking back, and those who want to do something about it.” I felt his other arm pull me in closer against his strong body. “You know which type I am, so you know I have to go.”

  I couldn’t say anything, because it was all true.

  ***

  The days flew by in a similar way until my next appointment with Bickerstaff came around. Now that almost any short distance was doable on my crutches and my arm strength had finally improved I was fairly certain there was nothing the once-wicked doctor could do that would overstrain me, especially since this time Henri’s watchful eyes would be there to see the check-up. At any rate I was fairly certain it wasn’t me he really wanted to see. Ness was terribly excited to sit in the doctor’s lovely white car when it came for us, the whole journey over the hill she crawled around at an uncatchable pace to look out of every window and sit on every seat. By the time we got to the cosy little waiting room Henri was exhausted from trying to keep her still.

  “How does Blod cope with this?” Henri said as he brought the struggling infant to sit on my lap, one of the few places she would willingly stay still, “I’m going to have bruises all over my arms, she’s a kicker.”

  I gave him a little smile and he put his hand on my shoulder, until we both saw the old receptionist watching us, her eyes bright and her mouth hanging open ready to gossip about us to whoever came in next. Henri went to sit opposite us on a comfy looking chair, but no sooner had he sunk his back into it then Bickerstaff poked his head out of his office door.

  “Miss Cavendish, please.”

  He wasn’t smiling, not even at Ness. Not a good sign at all.

  I let Ness wriggle off me and amble towards the office whilst I wheeled behind. When we were settled in our usual places Bickerstaff’s expression softened for just a moment as he crouched down in front of his little girl, silently presenting her with something yellow.

  “Lolly!” she cried happily, grabbing the confection and stuffing it into her mouth. Bickerstaff picked her up awkwardly and set her down on the edge of his desk, patting her head just the once.

  “Sit still here,” he chided, “While I talk to these two.”

  Ness nodded and obeyed, which was most unusual given her wriggle-fest in the car. Henri looked a little annoyed that she didn’t listen to him that way, but I put it down to the fact that she was too concentrated on slurping her lolly to want to do anything else. When I looked back to the doctor he hadn’t sat back down. I followed his grave expression to two brown letters on the desk in front of him. He slowly picked one up and passed it across the desk, right over my head, offering it to Henri.

  “I’ve been to billeting office today, I took the liberty of picking this up for you,” he explained, his tone worryingly dark.

  The other letter had already been opened, but I heard Henri ripping the seal from his. He came to sit beside me as he started to read it.

  “It’s my call up,” he said, and for all his bravery there was something hollow in his words.

  “Already?” I exclaimed, my mouth suddenly dry, “But…”

  “The training doesn’t start until October 1st, you’ve got some time yet,” Bickerstaff said in what passed for a soothing voice.

  I looked down at the other letter again, then back at his empty face.

  “You’re going too, aren’t you?” I asked.

  The doctor nodded, his eyes flickering away.

  “We’d better get on with your assessment,” he said flatly.

  Henri rose, still studying his letter. “I’m going to read this properly outside, if you don’t need me?”

  I shook my head, trying desperately to hide my sadness. October was almost six weeks away, there was still time for the war to end, for Henri to no longer be needed to fight. I watched him go, my breathing growing heavier, until I realised that Bickerstaff had rounded his desk ready to examine my walking. Ness Fach watched him as she sucked on her lolly, her huge eyes travelling over his face with the same keen interest she reserved for clouds and farm animals.

  “She likes you,” I said, smiling at Ness.

  “Don’t,” Bickerstaff snapped, his stern exterior returning in full force.

  I wrenched myself up on my crutches without a lick of help from him, my lip curling irately.

  “You could at least be grateful,” I bit back, “I didn’t have to bring her, she’s been a right handful today.”

  “It’s not that,” he whispered, turning his face away from both of us, “I just don�
�t want her to get too attached; not now I’ve had the call.”

  I didn’t understand. It was a bad do to be sent out to battle, I knew that, and dangerous too, but nothing was a certainty any more.

  “It’s not like you’re going to prison,” I supposed as I started to walk towards him, “You’ll come back.”

  When I reached him, Bickerstaff looked deep into my eyes with that soulless sadness I remembered from my first accidental trip to his head.

  “Henri’s a strong boy,” he began, again in a whisper, “he’ll do all right. But there’s a very good reason they’re calling on more medics.” He gulped with a painfully dry throat, the sound was strained, it made me want to cry again. “It’s because they’re the first to go.”

  I shook my head ferociously. I wanted to grab him to make him see sense, but the crutches were always in the way.

  “You don’t know that,” I protested.

  “Yes I do,” he answered through gritted teeth.

  Bickerstaff let out the deepest breath I’d ever heard, his propriety falling away to leave just the face of a young man. He gave me a hopeless look.

  “I have every certainty that I will die out there, Kit. You’ll see me proved right before Christmas. Your walking is rather excellent, by the way. It’s just as well that you don’t need me anymore.”

  It was the first praise he’d ever given me, and now it seemed that it would also be the last.

  I didn’t dare tell anyone what Bickerstaff had said in case it got back to Henri. He was building his muscles up every day under our tree, pulling his full weight up to his chest where he hung from a very thick branch. He was so confident that he would do well at training and that he’d be able to go anywhere and do anything the British Army asked of him. I couldn’t bear the idea that Bickerstaff felt so opposite about his chances. Whilst I prayed every night for Henri’s safety, now I also spared a thought for the doctor I’d hated for so long, hoping that perhaps somehow he would be stationed on our side of the water and not thrown right into the field.

  Now that October 1st would see Henri taken away from me the days seemed to rush by all the quicker. The summer leaves started to turn their auburn and golden hues and when the first cool breeze of autumn crept into my bedroom one morning there was little I could do but force the worries as far out of my mind as I could manage. Luckily I wasn’t left to think about them for long as a familiar sound travelled down through my ceiling whilst I took off my splints. Mam.

  She was crying this morning. She wasn’t always crying now, but she had only been out of her bedroom twice since the funeral, so I had hardly seen her face in the last four weeks. Blod said she couldn’t bear to face a world that didn’t have Clive in it. I understood that fairly well, but it was hell to think that Mam would never step out of her home again and I was sure that wasn’t something Clive would have wanted for his wife. If he’d been here to have his say he’d have marched her downstairs at a pace and wrapped his mighty arms around her. Idrys had already tried to do the same, but even he had given up and decided that his only daughter needed ‘her own time’ to work things out.

  That morning saw me in one of my determined moods. I was feeling strong, so I managed to wash and dress by myself before Blod or Leigh came to find me, then I took off on my crutches to the foot of the steep black stairs that led to the other floor of Ty Gwyn. I had seen what it all looked like by being in the minds of other people, but now I decided it was time to see it for myself. Each movement of the crutch left a clunk on the stone and the old burning agony returned to my arms and legs as I made it up each step, but I made it halfway up before I would even concede to stopping to catch my breath. My ascent was neither smooth nor silent, however, so by the time I was two steps off the top both Henri and Blod had woken up and come to see what the noise was.

  “What’re you doing, you mad thing?” Blod accused in a whisper.

  “I want to see Mam,” I urged breathlessly.

  Henri was grinning at me as he straightened out his stripy pyjamas. He held out his arms like he’d promised he would all those weeks ago.

  “Come on Kit, you can do it,” he beamed.

  Blod let off a sigh. “If you fall down them stairs I’m not patching you up.” She glided past me, already dressed in Mam’s apron to start on breakfast, but I caught her smiling a little as she went.

  When I reached the top Henri scooped me up into his arms and my crutches dropped with a clatter on the landing. I felt his just-out-of-bed warmth spreading through my aching limbs and he held me tight to keep me standing as I leant on his chest for support. He was grinning at me like a Cheshire cat and he suddenly buried his face against my neck and let out a little laugh.

  “You’re so brilliant,” he murmured, “You surprise me all the time.”

  “Oi!” whispered a voice nearby. Idrys’s sleepy, bearded face was poking out of Thomas’s room. “Just because you can get up the stairs, it doesn’t mean you can sneak around to see your boyfriend, young lady.”

  I felt my face flush crimson. My boyfriend. I bet that’s what they were all calling him when we weren’t around. Henri held onto me with one strong arm whilst he retrieved my crutches.

  “I came to see Mam actually,” I explained with a little smile, getting back on my own two feet as Henri slid the rests under my arms.

  “Make sure she gets back down safe,” Idrys warned Henri, giving us both a roll of his tired eyes.

  With that I was left at Mam’s door, listening to her quiet sobs. Henri retired to get dressed as I pushed open the door gently. It felt invasive, like I shouldn’t be there, but I had come too far to turn back. The bedroom she and Clive had shared was a tribute to their lives. Photographs of all their children littered every surface, with Clive and his boys in their RAF uniforms taking pride of place on the wall above the fireplace. Right beside the bed was an ornate frame with a wedding photo inside it. Mam had never been quite as beautiful as Blod, but her young round face was a picture of perfect happiness where she stood in her white dress beside her man.

  Now she was curled under her covers with her back to me. I knew she’d heard me come in because her sobs had stopped. She reached for a hanky and took it under the covers to find her face, then waved a hand at me without turning over.

  “I don’t want no breakfast Blod, you just see to the others, don’t worry about me.”

  “It’s not Blod,” I said gently, “It’s me Mam.”

  “Kit?”

  She turned then and sat up in her bed, looking me over with sore red eyes. Her hands rose up to her mouth wordlessly as I stumbled to her and sat down on the edge of her bed, my chest heaving with exhaustion. She reached out and touched my shoulder, like she wasn’t sure that I was really there. Then she shook the whole bed as she shuffled towards me and threw a strong arm around my head, pulling me in against her chest. I had always been protected by my chair from Mam’s full-on assault hugs, but secretly I’d always wanted one, no matter how much it hurt. It took ages before she released me and I felt a cold shiver all over me as I was set free from her warmth.

  “You came all the way up yur for me,” she sobbed.

  “I miss you,” I said, trying my best to smile.

  That set her off crying again for a few minutes, so I rubbed her shoulder gently until she was ready to speak again. Mam pushed herself out of her covers and hung her legs over the edge of the bed to sit beside me, catching sight of the lovely wedding picture for a moment. There were all kinds of things I could have said to her, but I thought that everybody had probably said them already, so instead I just held her hand in the dark little room.

  “I’ve missed you too, love,” she whispered. The sing-song lilt in her voice was not gone, just replaced by a more sombre melody.

  “Do you feel like helping me back down to breakfast?” I asked with an eager smile.

  Mam’s kind face looked older than I remembered, but when she returned my smile I could see traces of the rosy youth she’d had
when we were first introduced.

  “Ie, all right then,” she replied, unleashing a mighty sigh, “I suppose it’s time I took a look at the damage Blod’s done to my kitchen eh?”

  I knew full well that Blod had been keeping her mother’s kitchen pristine since the day of the funeral, but I said nothing, enjoying the idea that Mam would find that out for herself soon enough.

  ***

  Life was slowly returning to normal at Ty Gwyn as September rolled in, but even though Mam was up and about Idrys was reluctant to return to his own cottage. She was leaning on him and Blod a lot more now to cope with the duties of running the home and her emotions were fragile at best. When Henri broke the news to her that he and Steven Bickerstaff were both due to leave for basic training in three weeks’ time she went back to her room and cried an afternoon away, leaving Blod to scrub the lunch dishes, her own tears falling into the soapy sink. I hadn’t seen the doctor in ages, since our conversation over the call-up he had even stopped coming to chapel. I pleaded with Blod to telephone him at least, but her will was as rottenly stubborn as his on the matter.

  My fears for him and Henri were overtaken one day when Idrys burst through the back door of Ty Gwyn and hurriedly wheeled me off to the sitting room without so much as a word of explanation. Henri followed us in carrying a newspaper and when we were alone and the door was closed he thrust the paper into my lap. I stared down at the front page, my eyes first catching a picture of a whole row of houses on fire. I struggled to refocus on the headline: LONDON BLITZED BY JERRY BOMBS.

  Idrys crouched in front of me and grabbed my shoulders. “It’s happening day and night love,” he pressed, “Use your mind and find your mother, make sure she’s all right.”

  My heart threatened to batter its way out of my chest as I nodded too many times. Idrys and Henri sat themselves down on the sofa whilst I took a few deep breaths, trying desperately to gather my thoughts. In her letters Mum had told us that there were special shelters all over the city now in case of these attacks and that she’d be able to hide in the London Underground stations if the threat of bombs ever became a reality. I wondered sadly what Clive had really died for, why we had beaten them back once just for them to regroup and start destroying us again. I tried to push the anger aside as I raised my hands up over my eyes, shutting them tightly against the afternoon sun.