by Ellie Dean
Stan took a deep breath and tried to dismiss these gloomy memories. He was about to start a new chapter in his life, and should be looking forward, not back.
With a glance around the single room that served as parlour and kitchen, his gaze flitted from the sleeping ginger cat to the fireside chairs and brass pots hanging from the rafters, then on to the china ornaments Barbara had so loved, and the neatly stitched cloth over the small table. The memories of Barbara were everywhere, and Ethel had respected that as she’d cleaned and polished and cooked him meals on the rather old-fashioned range.
Stan wasn’t a fanciful man, he didn’t believe in ghosts and spirits living on, but he could feel Barbara’s presence tonight, and was comforted by it. She’d loved him well, if only for a few short years, and he knew that she wouldn’t have begrudged him this chance of a new start after all the years he’d been on his own.
He moved away from the range and went up the narrow, creaking stairs to the tiny bedroom he’d once shared with her. The large iron bedstead took up most of the small space, but it was where he and his two sisters had been born, so he’d been unwilling to get rid of it even though it was uncomfortable. He regarded the faded hand-stitched quilt which had been lovingly sewn by his mother, as had the embroidery on the pillowcases, and hoped that Ethel wouldn’t want to make too many changes when she moved in, for the familiarity was consoling in these dangerous and uncertain times.
He picked up the photograph that had stood by the bedside since 1927. Barbara smiled back at him from behind the glass, her sweet face reminding him of how lovely she’d been. ‘I’ll never forget you, my love,’ he murmured before kissing the image, ‘but now it’s time to say our last goodbye.’
He was misty-eyed as he carefully wrapped the frame and photograph in one of Barbara’s silken scarves and tucked it away in a hatbox that was full of such mementos, which he kept on top of the wardrobe. It would feel strange to share that bed with Ethel, but a good kind of strange, for he missed the softness and warmth of a woman’s body lying next to him, and the intimacy of snuggling up when the rain hammered on the roof and rattled the windows.
With this happy thought, Stan returned to the kitchen and picked up the large bouquet of flowers he’d gathered from his allotment earlier, and then stepped outside to where he’d placed the bottle of champagne on the doorstep to keep it cool. Placing the flowers and the bottle carefully in the basket of his bicycle, he patted his suit pocket to make sure the ring was safely in there, put the clips round his trouser legs and set off.
Ethel and Ruby lived in a bungalow that was owned by Cordelia Finch, who’d inherited it from her sister. Ethel and her daughter had made it snug and homely once Stan and Ron had painted it throughout and mended the rotting windows. Situated almost at the top of the steep hill that led eventually to the factory estate and the dairy, it had magnificent views over the town to the sea from the front room.
Stan’s emotions were all over the place as he puffed and panted his way up that hill, for although he was excited and eager for a future with Ethel, they had yet to discuss where they’d live once they got married. It could be a bit tricky, because Ethel loved the modern conveniences of the bungalow, and found the quirky layout of his tied cottage rather cramped. But as long as he was stationmaster, he was expected to stay there, and he couldn’t actually imagine living anywhere else.
Stan wobbled to a halt and stood for a moment to catch his breath before pushing the bicycle up the path and leaning it against the wall beneath the front window. Straightening his tie and smoothing his waistcoat over his belly, he mopped his sweaty face with a large handkerchief, gathered up his gifts and rapped the doorknocker.
The door opened and there stood Ethel, looking lovely in a blue dress and cardigan, her dark, curly hair freshly washed and set. ‘Hello, Stan,’ she said warmly.
Suddenly overcome with shyness, Stan could only mumble a reply.
Ethel laughed. ‘Oh, Stan, you are a one,’ she teased. ‘Are those for me?’
Stan shoved the bouquet at her and held out the champagne. ‘I got this too,’ he blurted. ‘Thought we might have something to celebrate.’
She cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘Did ya now? Well, you’d better come in then,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘Can’t have you going down on one knee on the doorstep, can we?’
‘How did you know?’ he stammered as he stepped into hall and she shut the door.
‘Blimey, Stan, I ain’t blind. You’ve been on the verge of it for days!’
He looked down at her with a tentative smile, his heart hammering with love as he looked into her laughing eyes and pretty face – and then all his plans went out of the window and he dropped to his knees.
‘Ethel, I know you’re twenty years younger than me and probably don’t want to be saddled to an old man,’ he rattled off, terrified she’d turn him down before he had time to finish what he’d started. ‘But I love you, and you would make me the happiest man alive if you would agree to be my wife.’
Ethel placed the flowers and champagne on the floor, then leaned down and cupped his face before she softly kissed him. ‘Yer a soft old thing, Stan Dawkins. Of course I’ll marry ya, yer daft bugger. Now get up off them knees before you seize up altogether, and give me a proper big kiss.’
It was a bit of a struggle to get to his feet, but he made it eventually and kissed her thoroughly. ‘I must be the happiest man in Cliffehaven,’ he murmured as he slipped the ruby and diamond ring onto her finger.
She let the light glitter on the ring and grinned back at him in delight before giving him another long kiss. ‘Well, I reckon I’m the happiest woman in the world, Stan – but if I don’t get into that kitchen pronto, we’ll both go hungry. I can smell something burning.’
Stan laughed and followed her bustling little figure down the hall and into the kitchen. It felt as if he was walking on air.
4
Portsmouth, April 1943
Portsmouth was shrouded in a blanket of early morning fog, the grey battleships and frigates that lay at anchor now invisible as the horizon disappeared within the thick haze, and the sea and sky merged as one.
April stood at the window and stared out at the swirling mist, her spirits low after yet another restless night of little sleep. There had been no word from Daniel, or news of what had happened to him over the past two days, and although he’d proved to be a liar and a cheat, she needed to talk to him, to see if he had the decency to offer some help and support. It was a tenuous hope, but one that she clung to with determination, for without his financial assistance over the coming months, she wouldn’t be able to cope.
April shivered and drew the thick dressing gown around her, huddling into its warmth, but the coldness lay within her, and her future was as bleak as the view from the window. This wasn’t how she’d planned to spend her nineteenth birthday.
Paula seemed to understand how low she was feeling for she put her arm over her shoulder and gave her a hug. ‘It’s not much of a birthday, is it?’ she said sympathetically. ‘Why don’t you treat yourself to a lie-in while I bring you up some breakfast? We’re not on duty until later, and I know you had another bad night.’
‘That’s a sweet thought, Paula.’ April gave her friend a wan smile. ‘But I’m not hungry and in no mood to go back to bed. I’m too restless and wound up, so I think I’ll just get dressed and go for a walk.’
‘In that?’ Paula pointed to the swirling fog outside the window. ‘You’re mad.’
‘I shall go mad if I stay cooped up in here with my thoughts.’ April began to get dressed. ‘I thought I might go up to Daniel’s barracks and try to get to see him. His regiment is due to leave today, and it could be my last chance.’
‘They won’t let you past the gate,’ Paula protested. ‘You know how tight security is up there.’
‘I have to try, Paula. He’s got to be made to face up to what’s happened.’
Paula was about to reply when a sharp rap on the
door startled them both, and a cheery Wren poked her head into the room. ‘Sorry to barge in, but I just heard on the grapevine that your chap’s train leaves in half an hour, so if you want to wave him off, you’d better get your skates on.’
April and Paula exchanged glances as the girl rushed off. ‘Oh, no,’ April breathed as she reached for her jacket. ‘I have to get there in time. I just have to.’
‘It’s really not wise,’ Paula warned.
‘Probably not. But I have to try and talk to him.’
‘I doubt you’ll get the chance,’ said Paula grimly. ‘Security will be high and there will probably be a complete scrum of girls wanting to say goodbye.’
‘It’s a chance I have to take,’ April said stubbornly.
‘Then I’m coming with you.’
She shot Paula a grateful smile and swiftly finished dressing, her thoughts racing, her fingers clumsy as she tried to knot her tie. Time was rapidly running out, and she could only pray that luck was on her side and she managed to get to him; to explain her predicament and make him understand how vital it was he believed her and was willing to help.
Paula stilled her hand. ‘April, are you really sure about this? There will be a lot of other girls there milling about, and he might be . . .’
‘Still under arrest, and therefore unable to speak to me,’ finished April for her. ‘Yes, I know, but I’ll just have to take that chance.’
‘That wasn’t really what I meant. You see, there’s a . . .’
April wasn’t listening as she grabbed her raincoat and opened the door. She raced down the stairs, barely aware of Paula following her as she stepped out into the murky morning and headed for the dockyard station.
April shared Paula’s misgivings about the wisdom of this mission, but her situation called for drastic action, and Daniel was her last hope. She’d gone over and over the things he’d said over the weeks they’d been together, and the way he’d been so attentive and loving until that awful night – yet, despite everything, she clung to the tenuous belief that he must possess at least a shred of decency and would do the right thing by her.
The mist chilled her face and emphasised the iciness inside her as their hurrying footsteps echoed in the muffled gloom of this early morning. If he rejected her and flatly refused to believe the child was his, then she didn’t know what she would do. The thought of being alone was terrifying.
‘Good grief,’ muttered Paula as they saw the mass of girls trying to get past the phalanx of military guards at the gates. ‘There’s no way we’re going to get past that lot. Come on, April. Let’s go back and find some breakfast instead.’
‘No.’ April shook off her friend’s tugging hand as she regarded the girls who were calling out to the black GIs already on the platform or leaning out of the train windows to shout and wave back. Some girls were openly weeping, and others were tussling with the guards to try and gain entry through the gate onto the platform.
She saw a gap and darted to one side of the shifting mob, easing her way through until she was pressed up against the sturdy torso of a grim-faced military policeman. ‘You have to let me through,’ she pleaded. ‘I need to talk to Sergeant Clement. It’s urgent.’
‘Stay back, ma’am. Only American personnel permitted through today.’
There were shouts of defiance at this, and the press of girls became more determined until one great surge saw the blockade breached.
April found herself caught up in the stampede and was swept onto the platform, to be jostled and shoved by the women who were desperate to get to their sweethearts before the train pulled out. She searched in anguish for sight of Daniel amid the chaos. ‘Daniel!’ she called. ‘Daniel, where are you?’
The thick fog mingled with the steam and smoke coming from the engine, and as it was momentarily shredded by a blast of cold wind she saw him stepping down from the train, his handsome face still bearing the bruises and cuts of that terrifying fight. But at least he didn’t seem to be handcuffed, or under some sort of guard.
‘Daniel, I’m here! Over here!’ she called out as she jumped up and down and waved to him. But she was short and dwarfed by the surrounding people and he didn’t see or hear her in the hubbub.
April began to push and shove to get to him, ignoring the angry retorts as she elbowed her way past the embracing couples and trampled on toes. The military police were trying to bring order to the chaos, and as one of them reached to grab her she only just managed to give him the slip.
Her pulse quickened as she caught a glimpse of Daniel’s profile and realised she was almost at his side. About to call out to him, she froze. The swirl and eddy of the people around her faded into a blur as all sound was drowned by the thunder of her beating heart.
He was smiling down at a girl in an ATS uniform, his arm about her waist. She was looking at him tearfully as she spoke to him, her hand touching his face with an intimacy that spoke of a history between them.
April watched in stunned disbelief as they kissed, and when he gathered the girl tightly into his arms to prolong that kiss, her head seemed to fill with black clouds and her legs felt as if they’d been turned to water.
A firm hand grasped her waist and stopped her from falling before gently drawing her back into the surrounding mass until Daniel and the girl were lost from sight. ‘Come on, April,’ murmured Paula. ‘Let’s get you back home.’
April was numb as she let Paula lead her away from the station. Barely aware of putting one foot in front of the other, or that the tears were streaming down her face, she was almost in a trance, the image of him kissing that girl imprinted on her mind. That had not been a soldier’s farewell to a stranger, or the kiss of someone caught up in a fleeting moment of excitement – it had been one of far deeper intimacy. But when had he got to know that girl? How could he have had the time to build such an intimacy when he’d spent every available free moment with April?
She tramped up the stairs and slumped onto the bed, defeated and overwhelmed by profound hurt and utter bewilderment. ‘I don’t understand,’ she choked out through her tears. ‘How? When? Who was that girl?’
When Paula didn’t answer, she looked fiercely up at her. ‘Who was she, Paula?’
Paula sat down beside her and took her hand. ‘Her name is Olive Bradshaw,’ she said reluctantly. ‘That’s what I was trying to warn you about earlier,’ she added softly.
April stared at her through her tears. ‘You knew?’ she muttered hoarsely. ‘You knew all about her and Daniel and said nothing?’
‘I only found out yesterday,’ Paula admitted, ‘and as there wasn’t much chance of you seeing him again, I decided it wouldn’t be kind or helpful to tell you about her.’ She squeezed April’s fingers. ‘I’m sorry, April. I thought I was doing the right thing.’
April could see the genuine regret in her friend’s eyes and knew that she’d been in a difficult situation – yet she still felt cross with her. ‘You should have told me before I went to the station,’ she said, snatching her hand away.
‘I did try. But you were in no mood to listen,’ said Paula flatly. ‘He’s not worth your tears, April – and certainly not worth us falling out over him. I was trying to protect you from him, that’s all.’
April’s tears slowly slid down her face as cold reality sank in. She did understand, really she did, but Paula should have made her listen – should have stopped her from going down there no matter what. And yet that treacherous little scene had shown her his true colours, and Paula was right – Daniel Clement was a complete and absolute bastard.
‘Perhaps it was for the best,’ said Paula. ‘If I’d told you about Olive you probably wouldn’t have believed me. You’ve been so sure that he’d do the right thing by you.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘At least you’ve seen for yourself that he’s a liar and a cheat and couldn’t be trusted to tell you the right time of day.’
Something cold settled around April’s heart and her tears dried as the scene at the station ran
repeatedly in her head. ‘Was he seeing her when he and I . . .?’
‘Don’t do this, April. Why torture yourself when there’s absolutely no chance of changing things?’
‘Because I need to know,’ she said dully. ‘Tell me, Paula. Tell me everything.’
Paula took a deep breath, and after a momentary hesitation, managed to return April’s steady gaze. ‘He met her just after you started going out with him. But there were others,’ she admitted softly. ‘Lots of others. A man that handsome can easily get what he wants, and there were plenty of girls eager to oblige.’
April thought about this as cold contempt swept through her. ‘But why bother with me at all? Why did he make me fall in love with him when he could get what he wanted elsewhere?’
She met Paula’s concerned gaze and suddenly the bitter truth dawned. ‘He saw me as a challenge, didn’t he? I was a silly, naïve little virgin – hopelessly dazzled by his looks and charm – and stupid enough to believe every lying word he said.’ She gave a scornful snort. ‘I bet he keeps a score somewhere – and a virgin has to be at the top of his list, don’t you think?’
‘Don’t, April,’ Paula pleaded. ‘Don’t punish yourself like this.’
April got up from the bed, dry-eyed and furious with herself as well as him. ‘I almost feel sorry for his wife,’ she muttered. ‘Do you think she’s aware of what a rat he is?’
‘I don’t know, April, and I don’t care. Neither should you. It’s time to concentrate on yourself and that baby, and whatever happens in the next few months, I want you to know that I’ll do all I can to help.’
April turned from the window and embraced her fiercely. ‘You’re such a good friend, Paula,’ she murmured tearfully. ‘Thank you.’