Time Goes By (27 page)

‘Who is she waving to?’ laughed Myrtle.

‘Oh, she’s been doing it ever since she woke up,’ answered Barbara. ‘It’s a new trick she’s learnt. She’s waving “hello” to Aunty Myrtle, aren’t you, darling?’

Barbara reflected that it was fortunate that Kathy had not yet learnt to talk. Aunt Myrtle was still unaware of the secret life her niece was leading.

B
y the end of May everyone, civilians as well as the fighting forces, was aware of the tension in the air. It was common knowledge that D-Day, the start of the liberation of occupied Europe, was imminent.

‘Barbara, could you meet me this week, on your own?’ asked Nat. ‘You know how I love to see your little daughter; but we do need to be alone for a little while. Could you possibly leave her with your aunt one afternoon?’

‘Er … yes; I’ll manage it somehow,’ replied Barbara, although she hated the subterfuge and the lies. She had not really told any out-and-out-lies, but she had failed to tell the whole truth. This time, though, it might be necessary to lie to her aunt.

‘I could say that I have a dental appointment on Wednesday afternoon,’ she suggested tentatively.
‘I really do need to go before long. And the dentist will no doubt want to see me again – they always do – so I could make the actual appointment for the following week. My dentist is in the centre of Blackpool, and my aunt is sure to tell me to take as long as I like, and have a look round the shops.’

‘Don’t look so worried, darling,’ said Nat. ‘I know you hate telling lies, and that’s one of the reasons I love you so much. You’re such a good honest person, Barbara.’

She shook her head. ‘How can I be, the way I’m behaving?’

‘I know … I know what you mean.’ He drew her closer to him on their seat in the Floral Hall of the Winter Gardens. ‘But you really are – good and honest and thoughtful. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, but we can’t let anything come between us, to spoil what we have. You know that, don’t you, Barbara?’

‘Yes, I know that … I’ll meet you on Wednesday, then, shall I? Two o’clock at the usual place?’ That was near to the North Pier entrance.

Her Aunt Myrtle fell in readily with the story of her supposed dental appointment. ‘I’ll have Kathy for as long as you like,’ she said. ‘Go and have a look at the shops while you’re in town; and why don’t you treat yourself to tea and cakes at Robinson’s café? Unless you’ve had a bad time at the dentist’s, of course.’

‘No, it’ll just be a check-up the first time,’ said Barbara. ‘Thank you, Aunty. You’re very good to me.’

‘No more than you deserve,’ said Aunt Myrtle, which caused Barbara a severe stab of guilt.

They met as arranged by the North Pier entrance on the following Wednesday afternoon. Nat kissed her on the cheek, smiling broadly. ‘Hi, good to see you. Glad you could make it. No problems, then?’

‘No, not so far,’ she replied. ‘Nat … you do love me, don’t you?’ Once again the enormity of what she was doing became very real to her. She knew that the time had arrived when she and Nat would bring their love for one another to its inevitable climax. ‘I mean … this is for ever, not just for now?’ she whispered. ‘You are very sure … about us?’

‘I’ve never been more sure about anything,’ he answered. ‘I love you, Barbara, more than I can say, and I always will.’ They were talking in hushed voices, but no one was paying any heed to them. Couples such as themselves were to be seen all over the town.

‘Come along …’ He took hold of her hand and they hurried to the tram stop. They boarded a tram bound for Squire’s Gate.

‘But you’ve already come from there,’ said Barbara.

‘No matter,’ said Nat smiling. ‘It’s a good deal
quieter down there, and I didn’t want you to travel so far on your own.’

She laughed. ‘Why ever not? I’m a big girl now, you know. I’m not likely to get lost, not in Blackpool.’

‘But I’m here to take care of you, aren’t I?’ He reached for her hand.

They did not speak very much throughout the journey along the stretch of Blackpool promenade. They sat hand in hand, looking out at the crowds of both civilians and servicemen thronging the promenade, and at the expanse of golden sand, and beyond it the vast stretch of sea.

It was a glorious May day. The sun shone from a cloudless sky, glinting like silver coins on the bluey-grey ocean. The sea at Blackpool was ever changing, taking its colour from the heavens – often dark grey and stormy, but today as still and as blue as Barbara had ever known it to be.

They alighted from the tram at the stop known as Starr Gate and walked towards the sandhills, as Barbara had already guessed they might do. The sandhills stretched southwards from Squires Gate to St Annes – hillocks of fine, pale, golden sand, interspersed with the clumps of star grass that helped the dunes to keep their shape. The sea never came so far inland, but could be seen in the distance beyond the stretch of coarser sand that was covered daily by the incoming tide.

This was a favourite spot for courting couples. Barbara and Nat clambered across the dunes, their feet sinking into the soft sand. It crept through the straps of Barbara’s sandals and between her toes. She was not wearing stockings, an economy measure that many women were adopting, especially when the weather was warm. She pondered that every trace of sand would need to be removed before she went home.

They found a secluded hollow where the sandhills rose above them on all sides. Nat took off his jacket and laid it on the ground. They sat on it together, looking at one another speechlessly for several moments. Then he drew her into his arms and kissed her passionately, in the way they had both been yearning for and anticipating for so long.

‘Barbara … I love you,’ he murmured, and it did not seem at all sordid or wrong as they made love for the very first time. She felt tears of pent-up emotion and sublime happiness misting her eyes as their love reached its fulfilment.

‘I love you too, Nat,’ she whispered. ‘Whatever happens – and God alone knows what is going to happen – I love you, so very much.’ She knew now that there was no turning back, but there was so much that was unknown, so much that they must face, together. ‘Oh, Nat … what are we going to do?’

She looked around, feeling a shade guilty, and
worried lest there was anyone near enough to see or hear them. It was not the sort of thing she had ever done before. She had always thought that making love out of doors as they had just done was something rather shameful, not at all the sort of thing that a ‘nice’ girl would do. She adjusted her clothing feeling, now, a little embarrassed, and Nat did the same.

He clearly understood how she felt. ‘I know, my darling,’ he said. ‘This …’ He gestured with his hand towards the sandhills. ‘It is not ideal. But you do know, don’t you, that this was inevitable? And some day, Barbara, we will be together for always. You must try to cling on to that, just as I will, because …’ He took a deep breath. ‘I had to see you today, to show you how much I love you, but also because there is something I have to tell you. The first draft of men from our camp has already left for the south of England, in preparation for D-Day. And it’s almost certain that I will be going with the next draft, in a couple of weeks’ time. And Howard as well.’

‘But I thought you were needed here. You said, didn’t you, that you had an important job in charge of the catering? Oh, Nat, this is dreadful news.’ Tears welled up again in her eyes, but she brushed them away. She knew that to weep and wail about this would only make things worse for Nat. She was not surprised at his next words.

‘It’s war, my darling, and it’s far more important
than cooking meals and looking after the officers. And we have to obey orders. We didn’t join up just to have a cushy number and keep out of danger.’

‘But how will I know where you are?’ she asked. ‘How will we be able to keep in touch?’

‘I don’t really know at the moment. But there will be an address – a sort of address – you can write to once the assault is under way. I’m sorry to have to leave you, Barbara. I’m more than sorry; I’m torn apart. I was planning to be with you, for us to be together when we tell your husband about … you and me.’

‘No, I don’t really think that would have been a good idea, Nat.’ She shook her head. She knew that Albert could be aggressive when he was roused and she shuddered to think of his reaction. No – it was far better that she should face him on her own, although she was already quaking at the thought. ‘I will tell him,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure when, but I will, I promise. Will I see you again before you go?’

‘Yes, on Saturday, I hope. We arranged, didn’t we, the four of us, that we should visit the Tower again?’

She nodded numbly. The sun had gone behind a cloud – a few clouds had now appeared in the formerly clear blue sky – and she shivered, although not just with the cold. ‘I must go, Nat,’ she said. ‘Aunt Myrtle said I could take as long as I wanted, but I’d better be getting back. Don’t come back
with me on the tram. It would be a waste of your time, and I’m all right, honestly.’ She needed a little time on her own to compose herself and to adjust to Nat’s news before she joined her family again.

‘OK, if you’re sure, darling …’

They walked to the tram stop where they said goodbye. Their parting was far less joyful than their meeting a couple of hours ago had been.

At nine-thirty in the morning of Tuesday, 6th June, the sombre voice of John Snagge told the nation over the radio that, ‘D-Day has come. Early this morning the Allies began the assault on the north-western face of Hitler’s European fortress …’ The news had been long awaited and the majority of Britons had felt sure that ‘Operation Overlord’, as the attack was called, would be successful. It was reported that before nightfall on 6th June, one hundred and fifty-six thousand men had been put ashore on the coast of Normandy. There were heavy losses, mostly among the RAF and in the American assault area known as Omaha.

Nat was not part of that first offensive but, as he had told Barbara, he was posted soon afterwards with the next draft, to somewhere in Devon. It was to be a long time before he and Barbara were in contact. She knew, though, very soon after he had departed for the south coast, that she was expecting his child.

At first she was shocked and frightened, then she realised that this was inevitable, just as their one and only act of love had been. Perhaps it was meant to be; at all events it forced the issue and compelled her to admit, first of all to her aunt, what had been going on in her life for the past few months.

She decided to talk to her aunt on her own, and she chose an evening when her uncle had gone to have a drink and a game of dominoes, as he did from time to time, with his mates at the local pub. She had put Kathy to bed, and she and her aunt sat one on each side of the fire in the family living room.

‘Aunty … I’ve something to tell you,’ Barbara began. She did not hesitate before she said, ‘I’m having another baby.’

‘Oh!’ her aunt gasped, then she beamed with pleasure. ‘That’s wonderful news. It’s rather soon after Kathy, but I’m sure you’re very pleased. Does Albert know?’

‘No, not yet,’ Barbara replied. ‘Actually, Aunty Myrtle, there’s something else I have to tell you. You see … it isn’t Albert’s baby.’

Her aunt’s expression changed from one of delight to one of horror. ‘Barbara! Whatever are you saying?’

Barbara explained how she had met Nat Castillo and how their friendship had developed over the months. ‘We love one another,’ she said,
‘in a way that I have never loved Albert. I know what you will think about me. I know what you will say – that I have behaved disgracefully and that I can’t be sure that I love Nat … but I do love him; I’m very sure, and so is he.’

Her aunt’s face had blanched and she was grasping hold of the chair arms to stop herself from trembling. Barbara felt dreadful at the effect her news was having. Myrtle did not weep, or shout at Barbara. After a few moments, during which she was trying to compose herself, she said, ‘That’s
exactly
what I’m going to say, Barbara. You’ve been a silly girl. You’ve behaved very badly, but I suppose I can understand that you might have had your head turned by this young man. A Yank … yes!’ She shook her head despairingly. ‘They’re a long way from home, and who can blame them if they find girls who are willing?’

‘But it isn’t like that,’ Barbara protested. ‘I know the reputation they have, but Nat isn’t like that. He’s a good honest man … and we fell in love.’

‘You couldn’t help yourselves, I suppose?’ Myrtle smiled a little cynically, and Barbara couldn’t blame her.

‘Well, yes … I mean … no. We couldn’t help – can’t help – how we feel about one another.’

Her aunt sighed. ‘You’ve been very foolish and I can’t condone what you’ve done. Nor have we ever encouraged you to tell lies, but there is a way round
this. Albert need never know, not if you let him think that the baby is his. I know it’s wrong, but there’s nothing else you can do under the circumstances.’

Barbara shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that. The last time Albert came home on leave I was having a period, and so we didn’t … you know. Anyway, I couldn’t deceive him like that. When he comes home the next time I couldn’t trick him into … doing that, then pretending the baby was his. You see, Nat and I, we want to be together, when he comes back, when it’s all over.’

‘And when is he due home again – Albert, I mean?’

‘In just over two weeks. I shall have to tell him, Aunty Myrtle. It’s not going to be easy, but I know I must.’

‘And what about … the other one, Nat? Does he know about the baby?’

‘No, I only found out after he’d gone. He’s somewhere down south now. I don’t know when I shall see him again.’

‘Isn’t it possible that you might be mistaken,’ said Myrtle, ‘about being pregnant?’

‘No, not at all. ‘I’m always so regular, you see. And anyway … I just know.’ Barbara felt instinctively at her breasts, which were already a little tender.

‘I can’t pretend I’m not shocked,’ said Myrtle, ‘especially at you, Barbara. It’s the last thing I could
ever have imagined you would do. But I shall stand by you. I’ll help you in any way I can, and I know your uncle will too. I shall have to tell him, of course. We love you, Barbara. We’ve tried to make up to you for you losing your parents, and we’ll do whatever we need to do now, you can be sure of that.’

‘Thank you, Aunty Myrtle,’ said Barbara in a subdued voice. ‘You’ve always been so good to me, and I hate to upset you like this.’