by Pamela Evans
‘Seems like it,’ said George sleepily, realising that he was in his own bed at home. He could only vaguely remember moving from the armchair downstairs. He must have slept all evening and all night and felt much rested.
‘Can you play football?’ asked Joe.
‘Yeah,’ muttered George, struggling to gather his wits after sleeping so soundly. ‘I can do that. I played a few times in the army.’
‘Are you any good?’ he asked.
‘I can handle a football, yeah.’
The boy thought about this for a while, then said, ‘My friend at school; his dad used to be very good at it.’
‘Did he?’ said George, feeling slightly out of his depth with this child who seemed like a stranger whilst being achingly dear to him. Gone were the days when he could please him just by lifting him up in the air.
Joe nodded. ‘He’s dead now, though,’ he said in a matter-of-fact manner. ‘He was a sailor and his boat got bombed.’
‘Oh,’ said George, shocked to hear news of such a tragedy delivered so calmly by one so young. ‘That’s sad. I hope that you’re kind to your friend.’
The child looked thoughtful. ‘Do you mean I shouldn’t fight with him?’ he asked.
‘I hope you don’t fight with anyone,’ said George.
‘I do if they hit me first,’ he explained. ‘You have to stick up for yourself or they think you’re a sissy and steal your marbles.’
George felt about a hundred years old and hopelessly out of touch with how little boys behaved. ‘Mm, there is that, but you should never look for a fight.’
‘All right.’
‘Good boy.’
‘I’ve got to go now,’ Joe announced.
‘Are you going to school?’
‘It’s Saturday,’ he said. ‘I don’t have to go today. I’m going to play with my friends in the street. It isn’t raining so Gran says I can go out.’
‘I’ll see you later, then.’
‘Yeah,’ said Joe and walked out of the room, leaving George feeling warmed but worried.
He felt as though he was back to square one as regarded being a father. He’d lost a lot of years. He had been very involved with Joe when he was a baby. But being a parent to a seven year old who didn’t know you was a different thing altogether. It was going to take time and patience and he would give it his utmost.
But right now there was something else he had to attend to, as a matter of urgency.
‘I’ll do the shopping today to give you a break, Mum,’ offered May that morning, seeing the weekend stretching out emptily ahead of her and needing to get out of the house.
‘All right, dear,’ said her mother, tactfully avoiding the subject of George. ‘Here’s the list, and don’t forget to take the ration books.’
‘Won’t be long,’ said May, and set off down the street with her mother’s shopping bag.
It was a glorious autumn day in late October. There was a chill in the air but a hazy sun had broken through, emphasising the shabbiness of everything but pleasurable even so. May was beginning to feel a slight worm of anger towards George. It wasn’t right to propose to a girl and then behave as though you hadn’t. Yes, he did have more pressing matters to attend to, but surely he could have popped round to see her last night, even if only for a few minutes.
Passing the Pavilion and playground bomb site, she paused, looking beyond the overgrown grass, the nettles and the rosebay willow herb to how it used to be and would be again. There would be laughter and conversation, a buzz in the air and community spirit. Together she and her mother would make it happen, May was absolutely determined.
To remember the Pavilion and the playground was to think about George because he’d been at the very heart of it. She thought of him now, and of Betty, just kids hanging out together with no thought of money or war or responsibility. Innocent times long gone.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she was startled when she heard a step behind her.
‘George,’ she said, swinging round. ‘Well, you certainly took your time.’
‘Sorry I didn’t come round last night, May,’ he said, looking very contrite. ‘I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until this morning. I was so shattered when I got back, I couldn’t function properly and messed up the whole thing for all of you.’
‘Oh, I see.’ It was that simple. Exhaustion. She should have realised, and hated herself for not doing so. ‘Of course, you would have been tired.’
‘Anyway, that was yesterday. Now I’m recovered, and I have something to say to you.’
‘Oh, go on then.’
‘I know that you said yes when I proposed to you, but it was all in the future then,’ he began. ‘Now that the war is over, we can make plans. But I need to point out the facts to you, some you already know, others you don’t. I didn’t know about them myself until recently.’
‘I’m waiting.’
‘Right, first up, I don’t have a job to go to yet,’ he said.
‘I realise that.’
‘Secondly, I have to start from scratch learning to be a dad to my seven-year-old son who doesn’t know me from Adam, so I will need to commit myself to that.’
‘Of course.’
‘I don’t have a home of my own to offer you.’
‘Mm.’
‘And if all of that isn’t bad enough, my father, who was my idol, I now know was an adulterer, and I almost deliberately killed a man in my platoon.’ He paused for breath. ‘It’s taken me a while to come to terms with these last things and I think I was probably a bit offhand on my last leave because of it.’
‘I knew there was something bothering you,’ she said. ‘I thought perhaps you had fallen out of love with me.’
‘Oh May, that’s the last thing,’ he said emotionally. ‘I’m sorry if I upset you. Later on I’ll tell you the whole story, but for now I want to ask you if, knowing all these things about me, you would still consider taking me on. I love you, May, so much, and I want to share my life with you.’
Her face was a picture of delight. ‘You don’t really need me to answer that, do you?’
‘Not now that I’ve seen your lovely smile,’ he said, slipping his arm around her.
They stood, arms entwined, in the place where it had all begun, war torn now, but still theirs. It had been a long journey, but at last they were home – together.