by Tania Crosse
‘Yes. Thank you, Mr W. I mean, Wig. I’ll… leave you to get on. And I’ll tell the others. They ought to know, too.’
Wig nodded, and Meg quietly left the room, lost in thought. That made two people, two civilians, she’d known personally, Doris’s mum and Esme, who’d been killed in the war. It was a terrible shock when it was brought to your own doorstep, so to speak. It just went to show. Fate, war, you never knew what was in store…
Twenty
She didn’t recognise him for an instant when she first opened the front door. Beyond the shadow cast by the house, the daffodils along the driveway were bathed in dazzling April sunshine that turned the figure before her into a mere silhouette. It wasn’t until her eyes adjusted to the contrast that she realised the fellow was attired in a smart RAF uniform, and when he removed his forage cap, her heart took wing.
‘Ralph!’ she cried in ecstasy, and launched herself into his arms, the glorious feel of him against her like life itself.
‘It’s so good to see you,’ she heard him murmur.
She stood back, allowing her gaze to wander over him. His eyes looked tired, his face drawn, but he was alive. And he was there.
‘You didn’t say you were coming,’ she breathed, as, shocked with joy, they somehow lingered on the doorstep.
‘I wanted to surprise you. And I was worried if I told you and then my leave was cancelled at the last minute, you’d be really upset.’
‘Well, you’re here now!’ Meg crowed in delight.
‘I should’ve been here last night,’ Ralph almost apologised. ‘The bombings might seem to be easing up a bit, but the trains are still all over the place, and you’re packed in like sardines. I spent half the night standing in a train, and the other half waiting on a platform.’
‘You must be exhausted,’ Meg sympathised. But he was here, and that was all that mattered. ‘Come on in, and have a cuppa and something to eat, and then you’d better get some sleep.’
Ralph rubbed his hand wearily over his forehead. ‘I’d rather just go over to Mum and Dad’s rather than facing everyone in the house. And then you’re right. I need to get some shut-eye.’
‘Yes, I understand. I’ll come over in a few minutes.’
Ralph nodded, and picking up his duffel bag, walked off towards the side of the house. Meg turned back inside, wondering in her excitement what she should do next. She didn’t know what Ralph had in his kitbag, but wouldn’t it be comforting for him to have a pair of his old, familiar pyjamas to sleep in? But they’d been in the unheated cottage all winter and wouldn’t be aired. Although Meg had been sleeping back there since the air raids had lessened, she hadn’t lit the range. There was no need as she still ate in the big house or with her in-laws. If she wanted to spoil her husband – which she wanted so desperately to do – she’d have to collect some of his pyjamas and take them across to the kitchen in the big house to warm through. She could make him a hot-water bottle while she was at it. She was sure he never had that luxury wherever it was he normally slept.
‘Ralph’s just turned up!’ she announced gleefully as she reached the kitchen.
‘Oh, what fantastic news!’ Jane exclaimed. ‘So where is he? We all want to say hello!’
‘Gone over to his parents,’ Meg replied, draping her husband’s nightclothes in front of the massive range. ‘But he looks exhausted and needs to have forty winks, so you’ll all have to wait a bit.’
‘Yeah, we understand, ducks,’ Penny said with a knowing wink, which made Meg blush.
‘No, really,’ she laughed nervously. ‘He’s been up travelling all night.’
‘Well, we’ll believe you, luvvie,’ Penny chuckled back.
Meg shook her head in amused exasperation before pouring the hot-water bottle. She took it over to the cottage with the warmed pyjamas and then having got their own small range lit and warming up, she hurried into Ralph’s parents’ next door. Ralph got up from the kitchen table at once, leaving a half-eaten sandwich. He must be utterly exhausted, Meg considered, if he couldn’t finish the snack.
Back in their own cottage, Ralph was undressed and into bed and asleep in minutes. Meg watched his deep, steady breathing, the familiar line of his jaw, his cheeks even leaner than before, creases forming around his eyes where the skin used to be smooth. Meg played her own part in this war, helping to look after their evacuees and to keep them supplied with milk, eggs, ham and bacon, but it was nothing compared to the men who risked their lives on a daily basis. It set her mind thinking. Perhaps there was some way she should be doing more?
*
‘There you are! Come here!’
Ralph’s beloved voice startled her as she supervised Cyril milking the cows that evening. His hand on her arm swung her round to face him. She scarcely had time to notice that he’d changed into some old civvies before he pulled her towards him, crushing her against him, his mouth covering hers in a long, slow, lingering kiss that sent shivers down her spine. Her body melted into his, her arms going around his neck, fingers in his hair. It felt so good as she drew strength from him, and gave back all the love and comfort she could.
‘Co-oor,’ they heard a young voice sighing not so far away. ‘Like the bloody movies.’
Meg drew back, aware of the deepening beetroot in her face. But Ralph tossed his head with that unique laugh she knew so well, and whipped her back into his embrace. This time, his kiss was more passionate, urgent, and Meg’s lips parted in delicious response.
‘You all right to finish the milking on your own?’ she realised Ralph was asking over her head.
‘’Course,’ Cyril’s proud voice came back. ‘Been doing it long enough, ain’t I?’
‘Then we’ll leave you to it.’
The next thing Meg knew, Ralph had taken her hand and was leading her back towards the cottage. She knew what was to come, and suddenly felt awkward. It had been so long…
‘Cyril’s really quite competent with the animals,’ she found herself saying. ‘When he and Leslie leave school in the summer, they’re going to stay on here, Leslie helping your dad full-time, and Cyril’s perfectly capable of looking after the cows and the pigs and growing the fodder. So they really won’t need me here,’ she joked, although something at the back of her mind was telling her there was more to her thoughts than that.
‘Well, I shall always need you,’ Ralph said thickly as he swung her into his arms and led her across the threshold and up the stairs.
They made love slowly, unhurriedly. Delectably. Ralph excited every inch of her skin to fever pitch, and when the moment finally came, Meg felt she’d never reached such dizzy heights before. For that brief, delicious while, she was totally enraptured in her love for Ralph and the rest of the world dimmed away.
Afterwards, she lay curled up against him, head on his shoulder and her arm draped across his chest.
‘I wish it could be like this forever,’ she murmured as reality crept back into her mind.
‘It will. One day,’ Ralph assured her, twisting his neck to drop a kiss on her head. ‘We just need to be patient.’
‘But we don’t know that for sure.’ Meg propped herself up on one elbow to gaze into his steady, warm caramel eyes. ‘We’re not getting quite so many raids, but when they come, they’re still pretty bad. And nobody knows who’s going to get it next. They say Plymouth was even more heavily bombed than London when it was hit last month.’
‘Yes, going for the Royal Navy Dockyard obviously.’
‘But the entire city was flattened, and so many people killed. It said in the paper people are going up onto Dartmoor every night to keep safe. I know I would. I tried not to show it for everyone else’s sake, but I was terrified when we got caught up in that raid in London. But the Londoners, well, their courage is unbelievable.’
‘Hmm, so they say. But I suppose if you’ve no other choice, you have to find some way to cope with it. But I do worry about Bob and Sally. You just have to hope and pray. Which is why, my darling, I wan
t you to stay here in relative safety, and not venture up to London again.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, I won’t! But Doris wanted so much to go to her mum’s funeral.’
‘Poor kid. She seems to be coping OK, though, doesn’t she?’
‘With everyone’s support, yes. Though who knows what she’s thinking deep down.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Ralph’s expression was grave, but then it deepened into a look of intense longing. ‘But I don’t want to spend all my leave talking about other people. I want to enjoy being with my wife. And kissing her like this,’ he teased, lifting his head from the pillow so that his lips brushed fleetingly against hers. ‘And like this,’ he repeated, gently pushing her onto her back and rolling on his side to lean down and kiss her deeply this time. And she sank into the vast realms of his love once again.
Later, they made their way over to the big house.
‘So anything new I ought to know before I see everybody?’ Ralph asked as they climbed the steps up to what remained of the lawn. ‘Don’t want to put my foot in anything.’
‘Oh, nothing really, I don’t think. Louise still hasn’t got a young man, but then she probably won’t with them all being called up.’
Ralph sucked breath in through his teeth. ‘That’s a pity. I mean, she’s reasonable looking, and she’s such a sweet girl.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Meg sighed. ‘But hopefully she’ll meet someone one day. As for everyone else, Penny’s Archie rings her occasionally, but he doesn’t get much chance to visit. Joyce and Maureen’s mum and dad survived all the raids unscathed. Ed had his birthday the week before last. Can’t believe he’s nine now. His mum came down for the day, but his dad’s been called up now. I just hope he’ll be OK. But mainly we keep an eye on Doris, with her dad somewhere or other on the high seas.’
‘Yes, poor kid. But I know you’ll all be looking after her. And have you heard from Sally at all? I’ve not heard from Bob, but he always was a diabolic letter-writer.’
‘Actually, Sally rang the other day. From a call box so we only had a few minutes. She’s fine. Happier now the raids seem to be petering out, and the evenings are getting lighter. Makes it better for her when she’s on a late shift. She says Bob’s ankle’s getting stronger all the time. But then the pips went.’
‘Ah, the dreaded pips,’ Ralph attempted to joke. But they both knew how everyone hated being cut off. You never knew if or when you might speak to the person again.
But when they went inside the house, it was like a huge celebration. It was only during Ralph’s conversations with the others that Meg learnt that as he hadn’t had any leave for so long, Ralph had been given two weeks of freedom. Two whole weeks!
*
It all went far too quickly. Meg was relieved of all her duties, the spring weather giving them plenty of opportunity for long walks in the countryside. And when it rained, the marital bed was always waiting, a disgruntled Thimble lying outside the closed door.
Meg glanced up at Ralph one afternoon as they sauntered through the woods. He looked so much better, far less haggard, than when he’d arrived a week ago. But the next week, she knew, would slip away before they knew it. And the terrifying thought that always niggled at the back of her mind would begin to eat away at her again.
‘I wish you didn’t have to go back,’ she murmured, helpless against the overwhelming fear.
‘I know. But I must.’ Ralph’s voice was ragged. ‘It’s the same for everyone.’
‘Yes. But it feels as if it’s only us.’
Ralph nodded. ‘Would it help if I explain what I actually do? Not that I can tell you that much. Each mission is so different.’
Meg considered a moment before she answered. ‘Yes. I think I’d like to know. Then I can think of you more. Imagine it in my head. So that I can feel I’m watching over you.’
‘Like my guardian angel,’ Ralph chuckled, and then he went on more seriously, ‘Well, it’s no secret that there are highly organised resistance groups setting up in the occupied countries. France, Denmark, Norway and so forth. They blow up munitions dumps, railways, bridges – anything that disrupts German military movements. And they radio back information. Intelligence. It’s highly dangerous. If they’re caught, well, don’t think about it. Suffice it to say, they’re issued with cyanide pills.’
‘Cyanide?’ Meg’s heart froze into a lump of ice. ‘You mean…?’
‘Yes. Men, women, some still children almost. The SOE support them. Special Operations Executive. And we support the SOE. They’re calling us 138 Squadron. We mainly fly a plane called a Lysander. Only small. And painted a dull black so it’s less visible in the dark. My pilot, Neville, is in the front cockpit, and I’m in the rear. I’m called the observer. I help with navigation, the drop, anything really. Sometimes I’m armed with a machine gun. And if anything happened to Nev, I could take over flying the plane. We fly in equipment and operatives in the dead of night. Often it’s just a parachute drop, but sometimes we might have to land on a makeshift strip. If we’re bringing an agent out, for instance. The rear cockpit’s really small, so it’s a real squeeze if we’re transporting someone. The rendezvous could be just a clearing in a wood, something like that. The co-ordinates are sent to us by coded radio message. That’s why navigation is so important. And we have to find a route in and out that’s less likely to be detected. That relies a lot on intelligence, too. We’re flying over enemy territory, but it’s stealth rather than the massive force of a bombing raid, for instance. We plan each mission in meticulous detail, and timing’s really important. We tend to fly several days either side of a full moon, but the weather, everything, plays a huge part. And luck.’
Meg had been listening carefully without interrupting him. Her heart stood still as she imagined Ralph flying in to a secret meeting place in the middle of the night, eyes straining to pick out the landing strip from the surrounding darkness. It sounded terrifying, but she attempted a wry chuckle. ‘Cloak and dagger stuff, then?’
‘You could say that. Except that it’s deadly serious. But I don’t want you to worry.’ Ralph suddenly swung her towards him, taking her face in his hands. ‘I’m damned good at what I do. I don’t know if it’s being a gardener, but I have a feel for the land. And Nev, he’s the best. I’d like you to meet him one day.’
‘Oh, I’d like that—’
‘But I want you to know,’ Ralph interrupted her, his voice vibrating with earnest, ‘that if anything happens to me, no one could ever have made me happier than you, my darling Meg. And no matter what, my love for you will never be any more than a whisper away.’
Meg stared up at him, tears welling in her eyes as his mouth covered her lips with a tender passion that silenced her soul. She really didn’t want to think about what the future might hold for them. All she wanted was to lose herself forever in the ocean of love that flooded through her as she drowned in his embrace once more.
Twenty-One
Meg had begun counting the days. She missed Ralph so much, somehow almost more now that she’d tasted his love once again. It had become a permanent ache in her heart, a constant pain that never let up, even when she was with her friends, or walking Thimble and the other dogs, or tending the animals. Where was Ralph at that moment? Would he be flying a mission that night from which he might not return? The fear was a threatening, black cloud that pressed down on her with relentless force.
But as each day passed, there was something else gathering strength in her mind. It was seven weeks since Ralph had returned to his base, and she was late. Could it be that he’d left her a parting gift? Oh, what joy it would be to have a child of her own. Ralph’s child. Her heart was overflowing with elation, and yet on the other hand, could it be that this was fate warning her that he wasn’t coming back from his next mission because now she would have his child instead, since her luck wouldn’t stretch to the joy of having them both? She prayed to God not. But if she was pregnant, would she want to bring a child into such a world?
A world fragmented with strife?
Meg’s emotions were tangled up in a twisted knot, and yet she hadn’t shared her troubles with anyone else. She wouldn’t until she was sure. It was true that she and Ralph had been so swept in the euphoria of being together again that they hadn’t thought to use anything to stop her conceiving. But with all the stresses and strains of the war, her cycle was all over the place. She’d been this late before when there’d been no possibility of her being pregnant, and she didn’t feel nauseous at all, but then not everybody did.
It was so hard keeping it to herself, and yet she felt it was the right thing to do. She hadn’t even mentioned it to Ralph the few times he had managed to ring her. She didn’t want anything to distract him from concentrating on his missions. Until she was absolutely sure, she would have to bottle it up. And if it was true, she wouldn’t know whether to rejoice or be worried sick.
‘I may be right, I may be wrong, but I’m perfectly willing to swear,’ Jane was singing along to Vera Lynn on the radio as she helped Louise clear the table in the servants’ hall after lunch.
And then everyone else joined in with, ‘That when you turned and smiled at me, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.’
Everyone else except Meg. She just couldn’t bring herself to sing just now, and she gave a wan smile instead. Clarrie and Nana May shared the servants’ table nowadays. It hardly seemed right for just the two of them to be waited on in the spacious dining room anymore. They had managed to purchase another wireless set to place on the sideboard in the servants’ hall. The talking, singing machine had become so important in everybody’s lives, listening to the BBC news and speeches by Winston Churchill, and the programmes of music and comedy helped to keep people’s spirits up. But not Meg’s. Not today, anyway.