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

by Shirley Dickson

  She’d write and send her condolences, but words, May knew, wouldn’t ease their pain. At times like this, it was important folk pulled together and, by doing a kindness or simply by being there, helped those who mourned a loved one if only by showing that they cared. May realised with a shock that with all that had been going on in her life recently she’d overlooked paying Ramona the money she owed for her mother’s funeral. It was an oversight she’d put right immediately, not that the poor woman would be thinking of such matters. She made a mental note that every time she got paid she’d post a sum of money to the funeral parlour.

  ‘Pay your debts and sleep peacefully at night.’ May was delighted to hear Mam’s voice in her head.

  May still struggled over what to do about Etty, though. Life these days was a jumble of intense and mixed emotions, so making the simple decision to visit Etty and make it up should be an easy one. May was acutely aware that in wartime you couldn’t hesitate as you could be here one minute and gone the next. So, what was stopping her? Surely, she didn’t still harbour bitterness towards her friend – if so, she was only hurting herself. It was time to forgive and, if not to forget, then to lay the past to rest.

  It was while she thought these thoughts, May had an epiphany – of course, the wounds she carried still hurt and though she’d made the decision to forgive Etty in her head she knew it would take a while longer to filter into her heart. She wasn’t ready to meet with Etty just yet, especially not with all she had to deal with already. She worried that if Richard found out about the hospital gossip, the dear man, wanting to protect her, would insist they stay apart for now. To end the affair was something May couldn’t endure.

  * * *

  ‘It was on a training exercise, Nurse,’ the young lieutenant in the first cubicle on Casualty told May. ‘I got this bullet in the leg.’ A blonde-haired, good-looking bloke, the lieutenant’s expression was affronted. ‘It hurts like hell.’

  ‘The doctor will see you shortly,’ May assured him, ‘he’ll give you something for the pain.’

  May hadn’t been feeling too well recently, she’d been ill with a tummy upset. She hadn’t asked for sick leave, as there was no pain, but neither did she want to pass anything on to patients as the spread of infection was something all the staff at Edgemoor Hospital went to great lengths to avoid. That included the eagle-eyed maid who, with the help of subordinates, ensured that floors were polished, curtains and windows washed, and every nook and cranny dusted, till Casualty positively gleamed.

  Leaving the lieutenant in the cubicle, May went to check on the woman in cubicle four who she'd left on a bedpan.

  The pale and emaciated woman lying back against the pillow looked exhausted, as if she hadn’t the strength to lift her head.

  ‘Nurse,’ she asked in a weak voice, ‘how long d’you think I’ll be in here?’

  No doubt once pretty, life had taken its toll. Her mousey-coloured hair hung lank and worry lines were carved into her careworn face.

  ‘I’m worried sick about who’s looking after me bairns.’

  May glanced at the name on the notes on the locker top.

  ‘How many have you got, Mrs Pearson?’

  ‘Three. Tommy, Joseph and Pamela. The eldest’s only eight.’ Her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I’ve left them to God and good neighbours.’

  The woman tried to struggle up. May helped by taking her beneath the armpits and hauling her up. The poor soul was all skin and bone.

  ‘Bert, me husband,’ the woman continued, taking huge gasps of breath, ‘went down… with HMS Kelly in forty-one… in the battle for Crete.’ This was said with a certain look of pride on her face. ‘You know what, Nurse? I haven’t got the foggiest idea where that place is.’

  May knew about the destroyer and its fate. Built at Hawthorn Leslie shipyard at Hebburn on the River Tyne for the Royal Navy, the ship was lost in action with the loss of a hundred and thirty men. This poor woman’s husband was one of them.

  Though May knew she shouldn’t get involved with patients, the plight of this woman touched her heart. All the poor soul wanted was to know her bairns were safe. When the patient finished her business, May slid the bedpan from beneath her bottom and, holding the warm rim in her hands, made to move away.

  ‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ she told Mrs Pearson, who slumped back against the pillow.

  ‘Poor souls… me bairns have been through enough. We were bombed oot of our house months ago and we live in temporary accommodation. After I collapsed it was the husband from upstairs that went to the phone box and called for an ambulance.’ She turned tragic eyes on May.

  May made up her mind. She bent down next to the woman’s ear, and said under her breath, ‘Tell me the address and I’ll go and check on the little ones for you.’

  May then lifted back the screen and took the bedpan to the sluice. On her way back to Casualty she felt the sickly feeling rise from her stomach into her throat. Hand clasped to her mouth, she raced to the ward lavatory where she was violently sick in the pan. As she crouched, the sour taste of vomit in her mouth, a thought struck May.

  She couldn’t be.

  She totted the weeks up, and realised she’d missed two periods. May knew, in all probability, she was pregnant.

  She panicked. She needed someone to talk to – someone to tell her what to do. But, with Maureen and Mam dead and her not speaking to either Etty or Valerie (since they’d fallen out over her relationship with Richard) there was no one.

  May thought of all she’d achieved recently. Becoming a nurse, the responsibility that entailed. Making decisions about her love life; Billy, Alec then darling Richard. She took a deep breath. She must draw upon her newly acquired confidence and rely on herself.

  21

  ‘Sorry, mate, it’s nowt to do with me,’ John the head porter told Richard one sunny but blustery morning in early May. ‘Orders from above. You’d still have a job, lad, if it was up to me.’

  The man couldn’t meet his eyes – and Richard knew the reason why. Matron was short-staffed, but the gossips had found out and spread the news that Richard, a conchie, was going out with one of the nurses on the staff.

  He took a minute to mull things over before he replied. ‘Don’t worry, John, I was thinking it was time I moved on.’ He put the fellow out of his misery. ‘I’ll empty my locker and then I’ll be gone.’

  ‘There’s no rush, man. There’s only an hour to go before you finish the late shift.’

  Richard bit the inside of his cheek and, giving John a nod, walked away.

  He knew the turmoil that was gnawing inside didn’t show. He was good at hiding his feelings.

  Questions buzzed like agitated wasps in his brain. Who the hell would employ him – a conchie? How would he pay the rent with no job? His main concern, however, was for May. If this had happened to him, it was likely she’d get the sack as well.

  Making his way down the corridor towards the hospital exit, he passed the switchboard where the woman behind the pane of glass gave a twisted smile, as if to say ‘you’ve got your comeuppance at last’.

  In that moment, Richard made a decision. He had no other choice.

  For May’s sake he’d end the affair and make it publicly known.

  * * *

  Richard walked home, needing some air. Gazing up at the cloudless sky where the sun dazzled his eyes, he tried to work out how he could tell May. He decided the best way was to lie and say he’d made a mistake and the affair was over, because if he told her the truth she would stick by him no matter what. It would break her heart but May was stronger than she imagined and she’d get over it in time.

  He berated himself. He should’ve known the situation would come to this, but love had blinded him and he’d kidded himself that as long as they took care not to be seen, no one at the hospital would be any the wiser. But some ruddy busybody had noticed and reported them.

  In turmoil, he searched for alternatives. Even if she did leave and go with h
im, what kind of life could he offer? No. It was best to be cruel to be kind. His reward one day would be that May would fulfil her dream and become a State Registered Nurse. And maybe she’d find some—

  Christ! His mind slammed shut. He wasn’t that benevolent. The thought hurt like hell.

  Ernie wasn’t in when he arrived home and that suited Richard because he was too distressed to chat. He pulled a small suitcase from beneath the bed and, opening the wardrobe, took out items of clothing and threw them on the bed. He could just leave, but that would be cowardly and cruel, and besides, he wanted to see her one last time. He hoped when he told her, May would hate him enough to let him go. And rightly so, because Richard would never forgive himself if she suffered on his account. He loved her and knew there’d never be anyone as precious in his life. May, with that open-book, beautiful face, was the only girl for him. He closed his mind to her loveliness, because that only made what he had to do all the harder.

  His possessions packed, Richard snapped the lid of the suitcase shut. He waited for May to arrive.

  He didn’t think about his new life, where he would go – all that concerned Richard was May. Her happiness was paramount.

  * * *

  She was late. Surprised, if not a little worried, because May prided herself on always being punctual, Richard wondered what could have happened to her.

  Then footsteps thudded up the stairs and before she reached his door, he grabbed the handle and opened it. May stood there, breathless, smiling, her eyes sparkling – but something lurked in the back of them he’d never seen before.

  She wore a sailor-style blue top with a white collar, and a pleated skirt beneath an overcoat that had seen better days and white sandals and socks. She looked like an adorable adolescent going on a first date.

  As he gazed at her, she did a twirl. ‘It’s amazing what you can find in the second-hand shop.’ She bent over and kissed him. ‘Sorry I’m late, but there was something I promised to do for a patient.’

  She began to come into his room but Richard blocked the way.

  ‘I thought we’d go for a walk, for a change.’ He closed the door.

  She looked baffled. ‘What if someone—’

  ‘It’s almost dusk… no one will see us. But just in case, I thought we’d be safe taking a ride on the ferry.’

  Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘Ooo! I haven’t done that since I was a bairn.’ Then her face clouded. ‘Maybe it’s best if we go inside first; there’s something I need to tell you.’

  He took her arm and guided her to the stairs. ‘You can tell me on the ferry. Besides… there’s something I want to say to you too.’

  She gave him an anxious, doubtful look that made him wonder if the gossips from the hospital had told her about his dismissal.

  * * *

  As they walked along King Street towards the market place, May told him why she was late.

  ‘Those poor bairns, Richard.’ She went on to tell him about Mrs Pearson in the hospital and how her husband was lost at sea. ‘The conditions in the flat were terrible. Damp and mould everywhere. You can’t blame Mrs Pearson, she’s doing all she can on her own. The cupboards were bare, the sink full of dirty dishes and there was a bucket of wee under the sink. Oh Richard,’ she despaired, ‘I think the poor woman has given up.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I tidied up a bit. The elderly couple upstairs are looking after the bairns. The folk next door gave them some clothes their kids had grown out of. Folk in the street were rallying around. When I told a neighbour how Mrs Pearson fretted about her bairns, she said she’d pay a visit to the hospital. She’s going to put Mrs Pearson’s mind at rest about it and tell her they’ll be taken care of till she’s better.’

  ‘People are good at heart,’ Richard remarked, then added in his head, those who are not gossips who get innocent folk sacked, that is.

  ‘It’s true,’ May agreed. ‘Everybody’s tired to the bone and fed up with shortages but they’re united when it comes to looking out for each other. With that kind of survival spirit, we’re bound to win this war – we can go on for as long as it takes.’

  At the fierce expression on her face, Richard couldn’t help but smile.

  Thick clouds were now in the sky which meant the evening had turned dark early and, as they wandered through the market place – where a terrible air raid in forty-one had destroyed buildings although the old town hall thankfully stayed intact – they arrived at the ferry landing. Richard saw the outline of the little boat as it chugged over the waters.

  They stood together and watched in the growing twilight as the Northumbrian came alongside the landing and felt the bump as it docked. The gangplank, a huge wooden door lowered by clanking chains, came down and foot passengers, some pushing bicycles, swarmed from the ferry, followed by a few motor cars.

  As they stood on the deck, Richard debated where to sit.

  ‘Not in the covered area.’ May wrinkled her nose. ‘As I recall, it’s rather smoky and smelly.’

  ‘We’ll go up top.’ Richard’s voice was decisive.

  He guided them to a secluded spot on a wooden seat. He watched as a slight breeze lifted May’s hair and, like a child about to ride on a merry-go-round, her face lit up with excitement.

  As the little steamboat chugged away from the landing, the odour of oil wafted up into his nostrils. Richard longed to put his arm around May’s shoulders and cuddle her in to keep warm but, his heart heavy, he realised that it would be inappropriate, given what he was about to tell her.

  The ferry continued across the Tyne, zigzagging its way through the gaps between ships.

  ‘Blimey! I can’t see the riverbank.’ May sat transfixed, looking at all the ships waiting for a mooring.

  Richard told her, ‘That’s why Jerry planes concentrate on the area. You’ll have heard about the ferry moored by Middle Docks which was sunk in the air raid in the autumn of forty-one?’

  ‘No. Was anyone killed?’

  ‘Four of the crew, I heard.’

  As they contemplated this disturbing news, Richard reflected on the futility of war. He wondered if, in a couple of hundred years’ time, people would know, or care, about the suffering of these brave men – and more to the point, whether the powers that be would learn from history. He doubted so.

  May sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘You said you had something to tell me.’

  Richard tensed. He didn’t want to spoil the moment, not yet. ‘So did you.’

  Her black irises, as she stared at him, seemed eerily large.

  ‘You go first,’ he told her.

  There was a moment of silence as the little ferry forged its way over the murky waters.

  ‘I’m going to have our baby, Richard,’ she blurted.

  At that moment, a hospital ship, lit up with a big red cross, loomed out of the now misty twilight. His eyes followed the huge vessel as it sailed up the still waters, and a calm settled over his mind.

  May told him, ‘I went to sick bay and saw the doctor. It’s okay,’ she quickly put in, ‘it would be unethical for him to tell anybody. He has to abide by the code of confidentiality.’

  Richard remained silent as he let the news sink in. Then, the wonder of knowing he was going to be a dad dawned on him. Excitement rippled through him.

  ‘Have you known for long?’

  ‘I’ve suspected for a bit but it became a reality when I realised I’d missed another… you know… the curse.’

  Richard laughed. He’d have to get used to women’s talk from now on.

  He beamed. ‘This is… the best thing that’s ever happened to me, apart from meeting you, that is.’

  Then, like a strike of lightning, he remembered the suitcase waiting in his bedroom and reality hit Richard hard.

  To divert the conversation and give him time to think about what he was going to do, he asked, ‘What will your family think?’

  Although Richard had opened up about his perso
nal life, May had always been guarded about hers. And he respected that because May had her reasons and he knew she would tell him when she was ready.

  The moment, it seemed, had arrived.

  The words came tumbling out; about the drunken father who had disowned her, a loving mother who was killed. How she had met a man called Billy Buckley who went to war and that she had become pregnant by him.

  ‘I was madly in love,’ she told him in a small voice. ‘Billy was a… free spirit and didn’t want to settle down. I made the mistake of thinking I could change him.’

  In other words, Richard thought, this Billy was a two-timing cad who liked to have other women in tow. He’d met the type before.

  May heaved a great sigh. ‘Billy was killed in action. Though I mourned him, Richard, I don’t love him any more.’ He saw the outline of her perfect shaped face as she looked out over the waters.

  She turned towards him. ‘It’s you I love, a different kind of love… all I want is to be near you. But Richard’ – her voice became firm – ‘after you’ve heard about my past, I won’t blame you if you walk away.’ She hesitated. ‘What I want you to know is… I gave up one bairn but whatever happens this time round, that’s not going to happen again.’

  There was that fierce determination in her voice again.

  ‘The baby? What happened?’ he asked.

  ‘Billy didn’t want kids. I was young… and didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t have tolerated it if he – Derek – had been branded a bastard. When Mam suggested she bring him up as her own, I agreed.’

  From the hurt Richard saw etched on her lovely face, he knew she had regretted the decision ever since.

  May went on to tell him how Derek had been evacuated out in the country and how he wanted to stay there after his ‘mother’ had died. Again, Richard could see that this had hurt May dreadfully.

  ‘And you’ve never told him that you are his mother?’

  It beggared belief that lovable May, honest to a fault, hadn’t wanted to put the record straight.