Our Last Goodbye: An absolutely gripping and emotional World War 2 historical novel

by Shirley Dickson

  She now conceded Mam was right. Derek was safe on the farm far away out in the country. For a moment, she wondered what country life was like as she’d only ever been away as far as Newcastle.

  ‘Man, watch where you’re goin’!’ a male voice blasted.

  May, deep in thought, had steered her bicycle perilously close to the middle of the road, narrowly missing a cyclist travelling the other way.

  The cyclist’s brakes screeched to a halt. ‘Stupid lass. What a fright yi’ gave us.’

  May, shaky with shock, pulled over to the kerb and dismounted her bike. ‘I’m sorry… I wasn’t—’

  ‘I should think yi’ are. If a motor car had been coming we’d both be goners.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’ Memories of Mam’s accident, like a bad dream, flashed through her mind and May went cold.

  The lad got off his bike and pushed it over alongside hers. May saw in the light of the awakening sky that he had a stocky build, with a wide sensuous mouth and a rather attractive rugged look. From his brown overalls, flat cap, and muffler, she thought he must work at the shipyards – or why else would he be here instead of in the army?

  ‘You shouldn’t be let loose on the—’ His sparkling green eyes widened in surprise as he looked at her properly. He took in her face and then her body. ‘Man, where’ve you been hiding? I travel this road every day and I’ve not see yi’ before.’ He grinned and two creases carved in his cheek.

  May didn’t know whether to be flattered or miffed. She decided on the former because there was something about the lad that reminded her of Billy, her former fiancé. As the lad continued to stare, with those gorgeous eyes, she decided it was his smouldering expression that reminded her of Billy. May brought herself up sharply. That same heart-stopping gaze had cost her countless troubles and heartache in the past. To be honest (which May always was) she was still suffering. Billy took up lots of her thinking time, even now. May couldn’t help being attracted to this lookalike lad and, intrigued, she found herself wondering just how far the likeness went. For all his charm there was something about him, a watchfulness that gleamed in the back of his eyes, that May couldn’t fathom.

  ‘I work at…’ She was going to say ‘the factory’, but then thought of the poster on the canteen walls: ‘Careless Talk Costs Lives.’ May pressed her lips firmly together.

  The lad rolled his eyes and laughed and, as he took off his cap, she saw a wide furrowed brow and fair hair cut in a short-back-and-sides style.

  ‘Hawway, man, it’s no big secret… I know where you work, I can see the factory gates from here.’ His expression changed to resolute. ‘I intend to pass this way at this time of day more often.’

  May’s dander up, she forgot her earlier discomfiture at nearly knocking him over. Ignoring his latter statement, she remarked primly, ‘You never know who you’re talking to.’

  ‘Then let me introduce myself. Alec Hudson.’ He held out his free hand as she met his mesmeric gaze that was the image of her former fiancé’s. A picture of Billy Buckley played in her mind’s eye and she couldn’t resist comparing the two. There was no denying Alec was good-looking but not strikingly so, like Billy. As she thought of Billy, his magnetic blue eyes and roguish smile, May’s stomach somersaulted. But she must stop this, comparing every lad she met to him. She peered at Alec from beneath long eyelashes – and decided that he was attractive in his own right.

  She relented. ‘Pleased to meet you, Alec.’ She checked her watch. ‘I’m sorry about before… but really, I have to go or I’ll be late for work.’

  ‘Aw! We’re just getting to know each other.’

  May hesitated before mounting her bike. ‘Some other time.’

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked as she cycled away.

  She called over her shoulder, ‘May Robinson.’

  * * *

  May sat at her bench in the stifling hot machine room, where the noise was deafening. A headache threatened from the ache in the nape of her neck. She looked around the benches, where the other machinists were intent on their work. May envied them their apparent peace of mind. The supervisor, combing the room, raised a questioning eyebrow and May put her head down hastily, getting back to the job of operating a drill press that drilled holes in aluminium disks – but still her mind jabbered on.

  May used to get on well with the lasses but since Mam’s death the other machinists were… May searched for the right word… edgy… around her, as if they didn’t know what to say or how to handle the situation. May had taken to having dinner at her bench alone in the machine room where she didn’t trouble anyone. To be fair, this arrangement suited her well because she wasn’t ready for either small talk or frivolous chat – especially when the subject broached sexual matters which the other lasses delighted in wondering about. May avoided these conversations as she’d die of embarrassment if she let slip about her past.

  As the hooter blew, May looked up from her machine and was surprised at how quickly time had flown. When the machines were switched off the silence was deafening.

  She reached for her shoulder bag and brought out her bait tin. A vison of Derek popped into her mind’s eye and the thought of visiting him put a smile on her face.

  One of the machinists passing her bench noticed and stopped. ‘May… why don’t you join us in the canteen for dinner today?’

  May smiled gratefully. ‘Yes, I think I might.’

  Things are looking up, the voice in her head said.

  May wanted to believe it was true.

  * * *

  A letter arrived from the hospital at the end of that week.

  Dear Miss Robinson

  Arrangements have been made for you to attend an entrance test for the post of probationer nurse. Please report to Matron’s office on Monday 15th of November, at 10.30 am.

  If you should be successful the next intake of probationary nurses is scheduled to start training on Monday 5th December.

  May’s hands shook as she read the letter. The moment felt surreal. There was joy too – she was amazed at having achieved the unthinkable. She didn’t tell anyone, not even Etty, because how could she, May Robinson, presume to work in such an esteemed profession? She needn’t worry, she told herself, as she’d never passed an exam in her life – except, of course, the Red Cross first aid certificate.

  * * *

  The next Monday morning, exhausted after a gruelling night shift, May arrived at the hospital entrance where the wrought-iron gates were missing – no doubt carted off when scrap metal was requisitioned to construct munitions. May, nervous for what lay ahead and how much depended on her performance, walked quickly up the drive to the main entrance and was told by a passing porter where to locate Matron’s office.

  Matron turned out to be a sharp-eyed woman who cut a commanding figure in her navy dress with its waistband cinched around her ample waist, her starched collar and frilled cap with tapes that fastened beneath a double chin. May doubted the woman missed anything. She told May with the voice of authority what the profession expected of nurses.

  ‘In these days of war,’ Matron concluded, ‘it is imperative that all our probationers keep up standards of nursing etiquette.’

  May had no idea what she meant but gave a polite nod to show she concurred.

  A porter was summoned and led May to a large classroom which had the acute smell of furniture polish and disinfectant. Four other girls stared at her as she sat at one of the desks.

  ‘Good morning, ladies,’ a nurse greeted them. She seemed quite old to May, with a plump face, delightfully pink and devoid of wrinkles, and a cap covered with frills perched on silvery grey hair.

  ‘I’m Sister Chilvers… House Sister at Preliminary Training School.’ She smiled an indulgent smile. ‘Now we are all present, we can begin.’

  She moved around the room handing out sheets of paper, then came to stand, fingers entwined at her waist, in front of the desks.

  ‘Ladies, you have an hour and a half to
complete the questions. Please turn your paper over.’

  The moment of truth. May wanted to succeed so much, it caused an ache in her belly. She viewed the first sheet, a mathematical paper filled with mental arithmetic questions – May’s nightmare, as she was hopeless with anything to do with numbers. But to her joy, she understood the questions and found the arithmetic basic. Next was an English paper that May found easy enough because, as an avid reader, she was good at grammar.

  The next paper asked her to write an essay about Florence Nightingale – who she was and what she did. May was overjoyed as she’d just finished a book about the famous nurse and founder of modern nursing. Picking up her pen and dipping it into the inkwell, she began writing down all the historical facts she could remember, especially about the Crimean war where Florence Nightingale put her method of nursing into practice and saved countless lives.

  Before she knew it, Sister Chilvers was calling out, ‘Time, ladies. Put your pens down, please.’

  When Sister walked around the room collecting their papers, May was surprised to discover she’d filled all the blank sheets she’d been given.

  As she walked back down the drive, drained but relieved, May didn’t dare hope she’d done enough to qualify to one day become a State Registered Nurse. But she couldn’t help the thrill of delight that ran through her when she thought of it.

  She took a trolleybus home and went straight to bed where she slept soundly till it was time to get up and ready herself for the night shift. In her dreams, the machine room was aglow with the light of the lamp Nurse Robinson carried.

  * * *

  Next morning, as she cycled home from work, a dim glow from the masked light on her bike shedding light on the road, May passed the place where she’d met Alec Hudson and gave him a passing thought. He certainly had eye-catching features, and undoubtedly turned heads wherever he went, and she suspected he knew it, because she’d met his type before. She remembered his restrained watchful expression, as though he was trying to curb his true feelings. She shrugged – what did it matter? She wasn’t gone on Alec and never could be because her heart belonged to Billy Buckley. A rush of undying love surged through May. She didn’t condemn Billy for leaving her – for hers was a love that didn’t ask questions and could forgive Billy anything – but May’s silent prayer was that when he returned from overseas he might be ready to start over again.

  She cycled through the first arch built to carry the coal trains from local pits to Tyne Dock Staithes. It was here coal poured into ships to be distributed around the country and to places abroad May had never even heard of. Beneath the second arch, May gave out a loud ‘Ooo’ as she had when she was a child and Mam had encouraged her. As the sound echoed hollowly around the black and dripping walls, tears gathered in May’s eyes as she imagined Mam’s belly laugh. She sniffed. How she missed her mother. Turning the corner into Templeton Street, she pulled on the bike’s brakes outside her front door.

  The tall red brick terraced house had views over the ribbon of River Tyne, where cranes soared high and shipyards teemed with workers building and mending ships that voyaged the enemy-infested seas. It was eerily silent when May walked in. Parking her bike against the hallway wall, she moved past the coloured glass lobby door. As she entered the passageway, May knew someone was in by the light creeping from beneath the front room door. She knew Dad must be home because she could smell his nose-wrinkling tobacco.

  In the front room Dad was sitting in the bay window, surprisingly wearing his rumpled Sunday best suit, a white handkerchief peeking from the jacket pocket and his worn shoes polished till they shone. Dad, dressing so smartly these days, amazed May and she was sad he didn’t do the same when Mam was alive.

  May wished, though, that the change in him would extend to Dad’s sharp tongue. A roll-up hanging from his mouth, he wheezed, ‘I’m only here to collect the rent.’ Pulling a resolute face, he continued, ‘And if that old bloke upstairs won’t pay his dues, he’s out on his neck.’

  Mr Herdsman, a retired seafaring gentleman who’d boarded with Mam for the last ten years, had fallen on hard times. Mam had overlooked the matter of him sometimes not paying the rent as the old gentleman worked as a handyman and did jobs around the house. The idea of Mr Herdsman – their only lodger now – leaving, dismayed May and she wondered what would become of the only home she’d ever known if they had no boarders left. Mam had managed the boarding house alone, and left Dad to his own devices in the bay window. With no money except May’s wage coming in she pondered how they’d feed the gas meter or pay—

  ‘Have yi’ thought about the future?’ Dad’s nasal voice interrupted May’s train of thought.

  ‘We could share the—’

  ‘Hang on, who said anythin’ about “we”?’

  ‘I thought we—’

  ‘Well, you thought wrong. I’ve got plans.’

  ‘Plans?’

  ‘Me and Gertie are—’

  ‘Gertie?’

  Dad looked uncommonly abashed. ‘The woman I’m seeing.’

  ‘I don’t know how you could even look at another woman,’ May blurted her honest opinion. ‘When Mam’s only been gone—’

  ‘It’s got nowt to do wi’ you. But if you must know, I get lonely.’ Dad’s gaunt face assumed a ‘poor me’ – as Mam called it – expression. ‘Gertie says I need lookin’ after with me war injuries an’ all.’

  ‘Mam was forever looking after you.’

  Dad gave her a sour look. ‘Anyways, Gertie thinks I should rent this place out and move in with her and the bairns. A nice flat she’s got in Alverthorpe Street.’

  May’s heart beat faster. She didn’t know which bit of information to tackle first. Where had Dad met this woman? And when? Heartbroken for Mam’s sake, May was unsure if she wanted to hear the answers. Perhaps Dad, still grieving, was in shock and this was his way of coping. May would give him the benefit of the doubt.

  Her main concern was Derek – where did he fit in all of this?

  ‘Where’s… Gertie’s husband?’

  ‘Bomb got him, poor bugger, in the last raid, when he was home on leave. He was running up the lane and…’ Dad shrugged.

  ‘Poor woman.’

  ‘Look here.’ Dad pinned her with a brutal stare. ‘Gertie’s flat only has two bedrooms, one for her and the two girls share the other one.’

  May felt the colour drain from her cheeks. Dad would never make plans that didn’t include Derek. Would he?

  ‘What about Derek?’

  Dad didn’t answer and, lighting the roll-up with a match, he took a puff.

  His eyes shied away from May’s. ‘You’ll have to make arrangements for him when it’s safe for him to… you know… when the war’s over.’

  May’s heart pounded so fast she felt light-headed. ‘But… this is Derek’s home. He won’t understand. He thinks you’re his—’

  ‘I’m nowt to do wi’ him.’ Glowering at her, he took another drag on his cigarette. ‘It was your mother’s idea to bring Derek up as her own, I’ve done me best and given him a home… It’s time you looked after him. He’s your bastard son.’

  May felt her blood turn cold.

  ‘Dad, you can’t let him down. The truth will shatter him.’

  Dad’s eyes turned to hard little stones. ‘The time’s come for you to take responsibility for the slut you became.’

  May stared aghast at Dad. His eyes dismissing her, he stared blankly through the bay window. A sob escaped May and, hurrying from the room, her feet pounded up the stairs as she ran into her bedroom and flung herself on the slim bed.

  4

  The next morning the wail from the air raid siren pierced the air. Etty, hurrying down the flight of stairs from her mother-in-law’s upstairs flat, stopped in her tracks. As the wail increased, her guts wrenched and scenes from the past played in her mind. Acrid smells filled her nostrils, as visions of houses toppling down, craters in the road and flames leaping high in the sky flashed bef
ore her. Then, the still body of her sister as she lay on the pavement beneath a blanket.

  ‘Etty,’ the voice of Nellie Milne called down the dim staircase, ‘is it a proper raid or a test?’

  Etty slowly recovered. It had been like this since the enemy air attack in May when Dorothy was killed. As soon as she heard any high-pitched noise, her mind conjured images of her sister’s death.

  The ‘alert siren’ filled the air before being replaced by the ‘raiders passed’ signal.

  Of course, she thought, it was just a test. Notice had been given in Saturday night’s Gazette.

  It had read:

  The ‘all clear’ signal will be sounded for one minute, at 10 o’clock on Wednesday morning, then the ‘alert siren’ for one minute, then finally the ‘raiders passed’ again for one minute.

  As the noise stopped, Etty’s breathing became normal again.

  ‘Thank Gawd for that,’ Nellie called from the top of the stairs. ‘Me nerves cannot take it.’

  During the last air raid, Nellie’s staircase had collapsed underneath her. The staircase had been rebuilt and Nellie had fully recovered from her injuries. The two women, who’d never got along before the incident – chiefly because Etty had to deal with the consequence of Nellie spoiling Norma rotten – had now called a kind of truce. In Etty’s case this was born out of necessity as her hands were full taking care of two small children and any help was welcome, even if it did come from her interfering mother-in-law.

  ‘Go on… get on with your nappy washing,’ Nellie called down. ‘Don’t worry about Norma… she’ll have the time of her life wi’ me. And if that other one wakens I’ll call yi’ to take her away for a bottle.’

  At first, Nellie had been adamant she wouldn’t have Victoria upstairs. She told Etty, ‘Victoria’s nowt to do wi’ me. It’s sad your sister got killed but her bairn is your lookout.’