Bombers' Moon (10 page)

Hari felt a chill run down her spine. ‘No! I’m sure not,’ she said firmly. ‘He would have been deported, sent to the Isle of Wight or where ever they put the Germans. No, I think he’s probably Norwegian.’

‘I expect you’re right,’ Kate said softly. ‘In any case you can’t hate a whole race for what one mad leader is doing.’

Hari drove in silence for a time as it was getting dark and it took all her concentration to negotiate the winding lanes towards Swansea. And then at last she came off the common with its vast pony-ridden land and saw a glint of the sea and a big white house on the horizon that she knew led to the coast road. She was home and she was glad.

The next day Hari was back at work; the factory had been quickly cleared up after the explosion but the gaping teeth of blackened wood showed where the shed containing shells had once stood and, as Hari passed it and made her way quickly to the warmth of her office, she shivered with an icy fear.

It was a wet day with sullen clouds lying low over the buildings of Bridgend and Hari was glad to be working indoors. Colonel Edwards nodded absently and continued to write in his neat, precise handwriting.

She sat at her desk, took off her gloves and watched him. He wrote something down in swift, precise handwriting.

‘How did you enjoy your trip to the country?’

‘Not bad, sir, I took my friend Kate with me, the girl who was in the explosion.’

‘All right is she?’

‘Kate is blind, sir.’

‘I’m sorry, fates of war.’ He pushed a piece of paper under her nose. ‘Do your best with this, there’s a good girl.’

Hari gritted her teeth; he could be so unfeeling at times. Still, he was efficient, and kind sometimes, hadn’t he arranged driving tuition for her? She’d gone through it very quickly, supervised by an army instructor. She could now drive the jeep and any other vehicle she chose.

Hari bent her head over the paper and began to work out the strange code, one she’d never seen before. She glanced over it. It wasn’t her job to interpret it, it was still in some form of more complicated code, but it was ready now for the colonel.

Later he came into her office with the familiar pouch of leather.

‘An important missive,’ he said, looking at her from under bushy eyebrows. ‘You must take this to the prime minister at once.’

‘Winston Churchill, sir?’ Hari had never had such a request before; it was an honour and she knew it. She looked at the colonel; he was pale; this was an important matter of war and she wished she knew what it was but that was not her business.

In her jeep she secured the chain of the leather pouch to her wrist and struggled for a moment with the intransient gears of the jeep. And then she was on her way home to gather a few belongings: precious soap, a towel and some fresh underclothes.

Mr Evans was standing outside her door looking up and down the street as if waiting for someone. Hari stepped out of the jeep and touched his arm. ‘What’s wrong, Mr Evans?’

‘My dog, I got a dog to keep me company and now I can’t find him. He’s black and white, small, not very strong. Vet said he wouldn’t last very long but I’ll keep him going, it’s love he wants, see, that’s all we all want, isn’t it?’

Hari thought briefly of Michael, the way he leaned into her when he talked, the way he smelt of grass and the outdoors. Her heart lifted. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Evans, your dog will come back when he’s hungry. What’s his name?’

Mr Evans smiled. ‘It’s a her, I’ve called her after my wife Maud, I know she wouldn’t mind.’

Hari had the hysterical desire to laugh and ask who wouldn’t mind, Mrs Evans or the dog. ‘I must go inside, Mr Evans, I’ve got work to do. See you later.’

As she was putting her things into her bag the air-raid warning sounded wailing through the air like the knell of doom. Hari hesitated, should she wait for the all-clear or should she head out of Swansea and away from the bombers?

The crash and scream of tangled masonry convinced her she should wait. She went downstairs and made a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table drinking it. Her house shook and she prayed it wouldn’t get bombed, she’d hardly begun paying for it yet. It was her place and Meryl’s, their home when all the madness of war was over.

Dust rose from under the door, there must have been a direct hit in the street. Hari waited until the all-clear rang out and the sounds of crashing buildings stilled. She opened the door gingerly and gave a gasp of horror. Her jeep was a burned-out wreck, she wouldn’t be going anywhere in that.

For a moment she felt rage against the foreign bombers. The jeep was like her friend, she’d grown used to it, it gave her freedom of movement. But now it smouldered and the stink of petrol was all-pervading.

And then she noticed the figure on the floor outside her house. He was crouched up against her wall. His old face was blackened by smoke, the creases outlined as though with a black pencil, but she recognized him: it was Mr Evans. In his arms was clutched the tiny black and white dog. Both of them were dead.

Eighteen

Kate woke suddenly, the inside of her belly seemed to be moving as if something lived in there, but that was absurd, impossible, her baby, hers and Eddie’s, had gone in the blast from the shells that had devastated her life and killed her friends. And, she thought bitterly, as darkness met her unseeing eyes, stolen her sight.

When she went down to breakfast, feeling her way along the banister and down the stairs to the kitchen, she heard Hilda moving about, heard the flow of tea into a cup, the chink of china. She felt for her chair and sat down.

‘I’d swear I felt life inside me this morning when I woke up.’ The words sounded foolish and Kate felt Hilda’s hand on her arm.

‘Just your innards settling back into place I expect. Don’t worry about it, have your cup of tea.’ Hilda took her hand and placed it so that it touched the china saucer. ‘Be careful, it’s just freshly brewed.’

The tea was hot and fragrant and yet it tasted strange. Anyone would think she was pregnant. If only. But she had been once, she must hang on to that thought; if it wasn’t for the war . . . well, that line of thought would get her nowhere.

‘I expect I picked up some sort of chill,’ she said. Probably caught on her visit to the farm out in the wilds of Wales where the wind seemed continually cold.

Kate had sensed the tension between her friend Hari and Michael, the farmhand. She’d also sensed resentment coming from Meryl in waves. The girl, young, fanciful, thought herself in love with this Michael; he must be very handsome.

Kate felt tears come to her eyes. Her Eddie hadn’t been handsome; he had a kind but ordinary face, but oh how she loved him. And the magic of it all was that he loved her in spite of her bad reputation. Why, she wondered now, hadn’t she kept herself pure for a man she really cared for? And yet she thought of the men, going to war, some of them, like her Eddie, never to return, and she knew she had done her best for them, given them comfort in the only way she could.

The sirens shrieked out, shattering the peace of the morning. Hilda helped Kate into her coat and hustled her towards the door. ‘Come on, we’ll be better off in the shelter.’

Hilda didn’t have an Anderson shelter in her garden as most folks did; the pieces of steel, curled like snow sleds lay uselessly on the garden with no one to put them together. Kate felt Hilda’s arm around her, taking her along the street to the communal shelter.

‘Duw,
it’s dark in by here,’ Hilda gasped, and Kate almost smiled, to her it was dark everywhere. They huddled on a bench against a knobbly stone wall and Kate was glad of her coat. Someone had brought a canteen of tea and Kate was given a tin cup, which was warm and comforting between her fingers.

She shared the tea with Hilda and she was reminded of Mass when the chalice was held to her lips by the priest and his blessing said over her head. She could hear her Irish mammy saying her ‘Hail Mary’s’ and she wondered why the Holy Mother saw fit to take everything from her. Kate had nothing, no mammy or brothers and sisters, no Eddie, no sight, no baby. What had she done that was so wrong – was it all a punishment for her being so free with her body when she lay with men about to die?

There was a crunch and then a great blast sweeping through the shelter. A child cried out, ‘Mammy my ears, they hurt so bad.’

There was a shuffle, Kate heard the creak of a stretcher, she heard a masculine voice say, ‘poor little bugger’ and she wondered if the little child was dead.

The cruelty of war was nothing to do with punishment, or the Virgin Mary, it was war, randomly affecting innocent and guilty alike. Wearily, Kate closed her sightless eyes, lay back against the wall and began to cry soundlessly.

In the evening, Hari came to see her and Kate held out her arms. ‘Give me a warm cuddle, Hari, it’s been a hell of a day.’

‘I know, I heard there was a raid, a few killed, one of them a little girl in the same shelter as you. Oh, Kate, when will it end?’ Hari sounded downhearted and Kate hugged her harder.

‘What’s happened?’

‘Such a lot, Kate. First of all I was supposed to go to London, take a message to the prime minister himself but my jeep got burned and then –’ she caught back a sob – I found poor Mr Evans dead, his little dog in his arms.’

‘That’s terrible, but then war is terrible. What else is bothering you, is it Meryl?’

‘No, Meryl’s all right. It’s Father, he’s been injured and he’s in hospital – wounded – but not too badly.’ She hesitated. ‘Lost a foot but he’ll be home once he’s recovered.’

‘What do you feel about that, having him home I mean?’

‘Mixed feelings to be honest; I don’t really know my father all that well. He was in the army remember? Before the war started, it was his career. What he’ll be like as an invalid I don’t know. To be really honest, I’m dreading having him home again.’

‘You’ll still have to work,’ Kate said. ‘Chin up, your life won’t change very much at all. Your daddy will have to learn to fend for himself. I know he’s posh, an officer and all that but he’ll have to learn to cook, to handle coupons like the rest of us.’ Kate smiled into her darkness.

‘Good thing your Meryl is out of the way, she’s a tough one, speaks her mind without thinking. Sparks would fly if she was in the house with your dad, so be thankful for small mercies.’

‘Anyway, never mind all that,’ Hari said, ‘I’ve come to ask, do you want to come on a trip with me to the hospital to see Father? I’ll have a few days’ compassionate leave, I can borrow a car and just enough petrol to get us there and back and we can stay in a little boarding house down the coast.’

For a moment Kate was frightened, how would she be away from her familiar surroundings? She was safe in Hilda’s house, she knew the layout of the furniture, knew the feel of her little bedroom. Loved the comfort of her bed, the bed that had once been her Eddie’s. She almost said she couldn’t go.

She hesitated, she was young, she couldn’t spend her life like a hermit, she needed to get out and about and to live as normal a life as she could.

Hari sensed her hesitation. ‘Please come, Kate, I need you.’ Hari’s usually self-composed voice trembled. ‘Please, Kate, I can’t face it all alone.’

‘I’ll come! What an adventure, a ride to the South Coast! You bet I’ll come.’ Kate was shaking inside but her voice gave no sign of it. ‘When?’

‘Tomorrow afternoon – is that all right?’

‘In that case –’ Kate forced some enthusiasm into her voice – ‘you’d better help me to pack some undies and things.’

Hari laughed happily and Kate felt her friend’s arm around her waist. She stiffened, fearing pain, and Hari released her at once.

‘Don’t worry, Kate, I’ll look after you, always.’ It was a vow said with conviction and Kate, all at once, was comforted.

Nineteen

I clung to Michael’s hands. ‘I don’t want to go back to Swansea, I’m happy here with you. And with Aunt Jessie as well.’

‘It’s only a visit, you’re going to see your father that’s all. In any case it’s not until a few weeks’ time. Why worry about it now?’

He didn’t understand, he was my life, I loved him and not any longer as a child hero-worships an older man. I loved his cow’s lick of hair, his broadness, his big hands, his clever, ice-blue eyes. I loved his easy affection for me even as I wanted more.

I wanted him to see me as a woman. Couldn’t he tell the changes in me, my blossoming breasts, my tallness, the womanly curves of my hips?

‘Your Hari’s gone down to the coast to see your father in the military hospital, when she comes back she’ll tell you all the news, it will be all right, you’ll see.’

‘I don’t want to go back to live in Swansea and look after him.’ I knew I sounded like a sulky little girl then.

‘Don’t be silly, you won’t have to, you’re still at school. In any case Swansea’s still being heavily bombed, the dreaded “authorities” won’t want children going back to all that danger, where’s your common sense, Meryl?’

I was comforted, his words had the ring of truth. Of course I still had to go to school and I loved the little school outside the village; our history teacher was a grumpy old man but he knew how to inspire, how to make even dull history exciting.

Mr Funnel drew pictures on the board, showed us maps of where the Germans were. He had been in the other war, the big bad first World War against Germany and he hated the enemy savagely. I sometimes wished he could know Michael, who had a German father but who was good and kind and wouldn’t hurt any living creature, but that was a secret I would carry with me to the grave if I had to.

Michael was taking me for an evening walk just as the sun was dying over the fields of ripe corn. The cows, milked and content, stood patiently in the grass, bending now and then to graze, not hungry but wanting the cud in soft mouths to chew and ruminate and be at peace with themselves. The bovine life was all gentleness and if I was gifted with words I would have written poems to the animals, poems about stoicism and yielding sweet milk for the needs of others.

‘Come on, little monster, let’s head back.’ Michael spun me around and held me facing him. I leaned forward and planted a kiss on his mouth and lingered. And then he pushed me away and laughed.