Time Goes By

by Margaret Thornton

  Kathy was stirring now and making little cooing sounds as though she was singing to herself. Barbara stopped and sat her up against the pillow at the back of the pram. She was warmly dressed in a bright-pink jacket, bonnet and mittens. The colour suited her dark curls, peeping out from under the fur-trimmed bonnet. She smiled appealingly at both her mummy and Dorothy – she was not a shy child – reaching out her arms and saying something that sounded like ‘ma-ma’, followed by ‘ba-ba-ba’.

  Dorothy laughed. ‘Isn’t she delightful? Is she trying to say Barbara?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ smiled Barbara. ‘She says it all the time. It’s one of the easiest sounds to say.’

  The feeling of tension between them was over as Barbara turned the pram round and they headed towards home. No more was said about the situation until they stopped to say goodbye at the end of the street where Dorothy lived.

  ‘Saturday evening, then?’ said Dorothy. ‘I suppose I can take it you’ll be going?’

  Barbara nodded. ‘We agreed to meet them outside the Winter Gardens at half past seven, didn’t we? Shall I see you at the bus stop, then, at about ten past seven?’

  ‘That’s OK with me,’ said Dorothy. ‘Er … if you change your mind, just let me know.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen,’ replied Barbara without smiling. ‘Just leave it, Dorothy, OK? I won’t change my mind. See you on Saturday …’

  Barbara was aware of a feeling of foreboding for the next day or two. At first, little niggling doubts crept into her mind as she recalled all that her friend had said. Two weeks was such a short space of time, so how could she feel so sure? Was it just physical attraction, or the novelty of meeting someone so completely different from anyone she had known before? Did Nat really mean everything that he said? And what about the future, the time when Albert would have to be told, as he surely must? She knew, though, despite her confusion and the misgivings that Dorothy’s words had given rise to, that she would be there again on Saturday night.

  And, sure enough, all the negative feelings were put to one side when she met Nat again, at least for the time that they spent together. They danced and they had a drink at one of the several bars, the four of them chatting easily together. The men agreed that they were impressed with the glories of the Winter Gardens building. It was sumptuous throughout, comparing very favourably with the Tower. A flight of stairs from the Indian Lounge, which was lavishly decorated in an oriental style, led up to the equally splendid Empress Ballroom.

  There were quiet walkways too, adorned with palm trees, ferns and lush foliage, where Barbara and Nat were able to be alone for a little while. They sat in a quiet alcove, looking at one another without speaking for several moments, but experiencing again the feelings and the attraction that had first drawn them together. Nat put his arms around her; he kissed her gently and tenderly, then again, more ardently.

  Then he stopped. It was not the time nor the place, and both of them knew that. They did not want to make an exhibition of themselves, as very many couples were doing in wartime Blackpool. On promenade benches; on the sands or the grass in the park, if the weather was clement; on the back row of the cinema; or under the pier … they were to be seen all over the place, girls with soldiers, sailors, airmen and GIs, and who could tell whether it was a one-night stand, a passing fancy, or something that would stand the test of time? Barbara and Nat knew that the feelings they had for one another were private and precious, and that they would have to wait.

  They spoke very little of the future, not then or at further meetings. They both knew, though, that it would ultimately have to be faced; there would be a day of reckoning.

  Nat told her about his life back in his hometown in Vermont, about his parents and his brother and sister. They were both older than he was and married with families. His brother, Lawrence, was thirty-five; unlike his brother he had not joined the army. Neither was he part of the family business as Nat was. Lawrence had shown no inclination for it; he was a bank manager in Montpelier, which was the capital city of Vermont. His sister, Nancy, was thirty and married to the owner of a sports emporium in Stowe, not far from the family hotel. Nat, at twenty-seven, was the baby of the family.

  Barbara told Nat about her family background, how her parents had been killed when she was very young, and her upbringing with her aunt and uncle. She told him, too, about her engagement to Mike, who had not returned from Dunkirk.

  She felt honour-bound to mention Albert from time to time. Nat didn’t say, ‘Never mind about him,’ or words to that effect. Her husband was there as an undeniable fact, as was her baby daughter, and they could not be ignored.

  ‘Albert is a good man,’ she told Nat. ‘I’ve known him … well … for ever, really, because he lived next door. He was literally “the boy next door”, although he is fifteen years older than I am. He never seemed to be all that interested in girls; I don’t remember ever seeing him with one. He’s more of a man’s man, really, if you know what I mean. He loves his football and darts, and a pint at the pub now and again. He’s been good to me, kind and thoughtful.’ She did not say how Albert had spoken of his undying love for her and how he had said he would always be there for her, come what may. She tried to push memories such as those to the back of her mind.

  And Albert likes his own way, she also thought to herself. He could be dogmatic and unbending, and when she forced herself to think about the future she could foresee trouble ahead.

  ‘Let’s take a day at a time,’ Nat always told her when she became too introspective. ‘When it’s time to face up to it all, I shall be with you every step of the way.’

  There was a weekend when Dorothy’s fiancé was home on leave, but Howard came along with Nat – to the Tower on that particular Saturday – and he found plenty of partners to dance with. Barbara was sure he knew of the situation between herself and Nat, and he was extremely tactful and understanding. Whether he approved or not she was unable to tell.

  Another time it was Barbara herself who was not there because Albert was home on leave. There were two such occasions during the time that Nat was stationed at Warton. On the first occasion she and Albert made love, though not without a sense of guilt on Barbara’s part. On the next occasion, some six weeks later, Barbara was relieved when the onset of her monthly period prevented this from happening.

  Occasionally she was able to meet Nat during the week. Almost every afternoon, if the weather was not too cold or rainy, she took Katherine out for a walk in her pram. It seemed that the life at the American camp was pretty free and easy because Nat was able to get time off to be with her. She met him near to the North Pier and she wheeled the pram down the slope to the lower prom. It was far more secluded than the upper promenade, where the RAF recruits who were stationed in the town were often to be seen walking along in small groups, and where the tramcars clanged and clattered by, bound for Squires Gate or Cleveleys.

  They sat on a bench, Nat’s arm around her, relishing their brief time together. They could hear the sound of the waves beating against the sea wall and the cry of the seagulls as they exchanged kisses of love and longing. They knew, though, that that was all they could do, that now was not the time nor the place.

  Nat was enchanted with Kathy, who cooed and laughed and held out her arms to him. She had learnt to wave ‘bye-bye’, one of the first things learnt by all babies. She waved dutifully as they parted by North Pier where Nat boarded a tram to take him towards Squires Gate. In fact, Kathy then continued to wave to imaginary people all the way home, and was still doing it when they entered the house and saw Aunt Myrtle.

  ‘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 lea
ding.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  By 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 a
nd 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.