A Place to Call Home

by Tania Crosse

  They’d reached the bedroom and Ralph had stripped off as Meg went to the wardrobe to fetch one of his old shirts. She’d seen the awful, twisted scarring up his arm and across his shoulder on several occasions at the hospital, but it still made her wince. But it could have been so much worse. When she thought of the patients, airmen mostly, she’d seen at East Grinstead being treated for appalling facial burns, she thanked their lucky stars.

  She took Ralph’s hands and squeezed them. ‘I know. But we’ll get through this. Together. For now, just relax and enjoy all the goodwill. And when the war’s over, then we’ll see.’

  Ralph nodded, and as Meg watched him don his civvies, she felt a little something jump inside her. She was going to fight back in more ways than one. She knew exactly what she was going to do. Always had done, ever since she’d been turned out of Home Farm after her parents had died because, back then, legally she had been too young to carry on the tenancy. The plan that had been simmering for so long in the recesses of her mind was going to burst out in glorious light. But first she must restore Ralph to his old self.

  ‘The invasion seems to be going well, doesn’t it?’ she said as they returned to the homecoming party. ‘I know so many of the Allies were killed in those first few days which was awful. And poor Boris was so terribly wounded. But they seem to be really pushing forward now.’

  ‘Yes, poor young bugger. At least they got him back to Blighty, but his injuries sound pretty serious. I can only think of him and Max as unruly kids racing round the place like lunatics when they came to visit.’

  ‘Mr Perry and Mrs Sofia must be worried sick about Boris. When I think of Sofia and her sense of fun, even if she is a bit eccentric, it just doesn’t seem right.’

  ‘Yes. Knowing Hitler’s days are numbered isn’t going to help her at all, is it? It’s going to take time, but we’ll get the bastard in the end. Even if he is trying to fight back with those bloody V1s.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Meg grunted grimly. ‘I told you, didn’t I, that Bob and Sally were both slightly hurt when one landed in their street? And Poor Clarrie’s worried the factory’ll be hit again, and that Wig won’t be so lucky a second time.’

  ‘That line of anti-aircraft guns and barrage balloons they set up along the North Downs doesn’t seem to be working very well, so perhaps she’s right to worry. But best not mention anything about it for now, and I promise to enjoy this little party in my honour.’

  He actually grinned down at Meg, filling her with optimism. Dear, good Ralph was still there beneath the hurt and suffering.

  During the afternoon, he duly joined in all the chatter, didn’t even mind answering Leslie’s probing questions about his injuries. Nobody took any notice when Wig was summoned to the phone because Peregrine was on the line.

  Meg was among the first to see him walk slowly back across the terrace and down the steps, his head bent. Clarrie must have seen Meg’s frown and followed her worried gaze. Then she sprang forward to meet her husband.

  ‘Wig? Is something wrong?’

  ‘Yes, my dear. I’m afraid there is,’ Wig answered solemnly. ‘Boris… died of his wounds this morning.’

  Meg’s hand went over her mouth. Oh, dear God. Poor Boris. And poor Sofia. Because she’d take the news harder than anyone.

  Meg didn’t notice Clarrie turn silently away. Pain jerked through the older woman’s body. Dear, irritating, adored Sofia would be stricken. She was one of the few people guarding the secret of Clarrie and Wig’s tragic loss. And now she, too, was to know the agony of a mother’s grief. Clarrie was blinded by a grey fog of anger and sorrow as the old, helpless emptiness opened up inside her once again. How was Sofia to cope with the same misery that had dogged her own life for all those years? How cruel fate could be! And Clarrie’s hands balled into furious fists at her sides.

  *

  ‘You’re not going to cry on me, are you?’

  Meg looked up into Ralph’s teasing face and tossed her head to quell her threatening tears. ‘No, of course not,’ she answered determinedly, grasping the lapels of his uniform overcoat and pumping her hands against his chest as if to emphasise her resolve. ‘Why should I cry? You’re well enough to be going back to your base. And this time I know you’ll be coming home, no matter how long it takes. No more missions, just training others.’

  ‘It’s still going to be a while before I’m home for good. Hitler’s losing the game, but he’s not giving up yet by any means.’

  Meg’s shoulders dropped in a sigh. ‘Yes. But it’s got to be over some time next year, hasn’t it? Surely?’

  ‘I sincerely hope so. And then you and I can begin a proper married life together. Ah, hear that?’ Ralph tilted his head at the distant whistle. ‘Train’s coming. Give me another hug. And no tears, remember?’

  Meg laced her arms about his neck and their mouths clung in a hungry, desperate kiss. Meg closed her eyes as the train rumbled in beside them, wishing it would just disappear. Ralph’s arms about her waist crushed her to him, but at the last minute, he pulled back and leapt onto the carriage step just as the guard came along to slam shut all the doors.

  ‘I’ll write to you tonight.’

  ‘Take care, my darling!’

  She blew him a kiss and hurried alongside as the train lurched forward. She was beginning to hate stations. She stopped at the end of the platform, waving, and her hand dropped limply to her side as she turned away.

  She mustn’t be sad. Ralph had recovered from his dreadful injuries, and he was going to be safe. And Meg had something to keep her happy until his return. As soon as Ralph had been transferred to the hospital in East Grinstead, she’d gone back to her work at the farm, the place she still thought of as home. But when he’d come back to Robin Hill to convalesce, she’d gone to live there again, although she’d still helped out at Home Farm whenever she was needed, pedalling to and fro on her bicycle. But now she was returning to her Land Army work full-time. Until the war was over.

  Guilt clawed at her. She wanted the war to end, and she wanted Ralph home safely in her arms. But it would mean the wonderful time she’d spent working for the Fenshaws at Home Farm would be over. Even if their son, Paul, didn’t survive the rest of the war and she was still needed, Meg couldn’t continue there. Her place was by Ralph’s side, and it was simply too far to travel back and forth daily to the farm on an indefinite basis.

  The autumn wind lifted the hem of Meg’s coat as she turned out of the station. She felt upside-down inside. But whatever happened, she vowed to put her plan into action. Something Ralph had said the day he’d returned to Robin Hill had stuck in her mind, so she knew he’d approve. But in the meantime, she wanted to continue working at her old home for as long as possible.

  Deep in thought, she took her bicycle from where she’d left it propped against the wall. And then, remembering that Ralph would be home for Christmas, her heart squeezed with happiness.

  Thirty-Two

  1945

  He gave in at last, the treacherous little man with the stupid moustache. Disappeared. There were rumours he was dead. Committed suicide. Who really cared, so long as he was gone? Many said it was the blanket bombing of Dresden that finally did the trick, others that Hitler was beaten anyway. But now it was over, in Europe at least. And, God willing, peace would come to the Far East as well before too long.

  Everyone had known it was coming, especially in those last few weeks. There was going to be a national holiday, and people were making preparations for the celebrations. It had even been announced that you could buy material off coupons to make bunting. And yet somehow, after nearly six years of war, of bombings, losing loved ones and homes, scraping by on rations of food, soap, clothing and so forth, so many items almost impossible to get hold of, and no private petrol at all, it seemed unreal that peace could ever come.

  The hardships would go on, of course. Such things couldn’t right themselves overnight. But knowing that the towns and cities of Britain would no longer be attack
ed, that the men and women serving in Europe would be coming home safe and sound, was such a phenomenal relief that the enormity of it was too much to comprehend.

  It was late afternoon on Monday 7th May. Meg and Mandy were out in the fields at Home Farm, checking on the progress of the season’s lambs. Meg could almost feel her blood pumping expectantly through her veins, her stomach knotted as excitement simmered inside her. Was she dreaming? Could the peace everyone had craved for so long really be becoming reality? Or was it all a cruel trick? Would their desperate hopes be shattered?

  Only one ewe that spring had given birth to triplets, and as it was always unlikely that the third would survive, Meg and Alan between them had succeeded in tricking another mother with only one lamb into fostering it. Meg was just making sure all was still going well when she thought she heard someone calling. She and Mandy caught each other’s eye as they both looked up. Maggie was running towards them, shouting and waving her arms. They’d never seen her move so fast.

  And then she drew near enough for them to start making out her words. ‘It’s over!’ she was screaming. ‘It’s over!’

  The world stopped turning, and Meg’s senses dropped away as she straightened up. It couldn’t be true. Could it? She wanted to believe it, but surely she was imagining it. Oh, Mum. Dad.

  And then a bullet of white and brown fur hurtled after Maggie, barking crazily in this unexpected game. For when had the farmer’s wife ever found such speed before? Thimble raced past her and came to leap about Meg instead, scattering the sheep in all directions.

  The taut string snapped, and Meg burst into tears of joy as she caught Thimble’s collar and, for a second in which her emotions untangled themselves, buried her face in the dog’s thick coat. But she was instantly standing up again. Maggie’s puffing, beaming face. Mandy’s dangling jaw closing as it turned into an ecstatic grin, a thousand stars dancing in her eyes.

  A fountain of joyful abandonment spiralled up inside Meg as the news sank in. The three women grasped each other in elation, jumping up and down and squealing with an exhilaration such as they’d never felt before.

  ‘Ssh!’ Meg suddenly shushed them. ‘Listen!’

  They did. And across the fields chimed the distant peal of church bells. A sound they hadn’t heard in years.

  ‘It’s true, then!’ Meg cried through her tears. ‘I can’t believe it!’

  ‘Was on the radio just now, my dears.’ Maggie, too, was choked with emotion. ‘They’ve surrendered to Eisenhower in France. And tomorrow they’ll be signing something in Berlin. Tomorrow’s going to be VE Day. And they say both Churchill and the King’ll be making speeches tomorrow, as well.’

  ‘Oh, I can’t wait till then to celebrate!’ Mandy exclaimed.

  ‘I don’t suppose many people can. You two get off home to your families.’

  ‘But don’t you want—?’

  ‘Alan and me can manage for a day or two. Our Paul’s not been hurt at all, so he’ll be coming back to us safe and sound. That’s enough celebration for us. Now off you go before I have to chase you!’ Maggie laughed.

  Meg hesitated, her euphoria interrupted. She was already home. But she supposed Clarrie was her family now. And she could feel her heart being pulled towards Robin Hill House as if by a thread.

  Back at the farmhouse, she clipped on Thimble’s lead, and giving Mandy, Maggie and Alan a final hug, set off down the track on her bicycle. Thimble was nearly eight now, and had long learnt to run alongside the bike on the lead. In the village, people had run outside, and were cheering and hugging each other, and Meg waved merrily to them as she passed before setting out towards Robin Hill House. She couldn’t remember how many times she’d pedalled the same route. But never had she done so with such joy in her heart.

  When she reached Robin Hill, she cycled straight round to the back of the house. Propping her bike against the wall, she let Thimble off the lead and the dog at once went in search of old Trampas and Sunny who were both on their last legs now. Meg laughed as she watched the younger dog scamper off. The animal would hardly know why all its human friends seemed so happy.

  As she came round the corner, all three sets of French doors that led onto the terrace from the dining room, corridor and drawing room respectively were hooked wide open. Music was blaring out from the gramophone, and everyone was outside, dancing, whooping in unleashed delight and generally giving way to unbridled joy. Penny had her three plus Ed in a circle doing a raucous Hokey Cokey in competition to the Vera Lynn record being played, and everyone was laughing and joking as Meg had never thought possible.

  ‘Meggy!’ Doris cried, racing across with her freckles stretched across her cheeks in a huge grin. ‘Isn’t it wonderful! It means Daddy will be coming home!’ And then Doris proceeded to pull her round in circles until they both collapsed in a breathless heap.

  ‘Oh, where’s Clarrie?’ Meg finally panted.

  ‘Trying to get through to the vicar on the phone,’ Doris puffed. ‘To make the last-minute arrangements for tomorrow. They’ve had everything ready and waiting for the celebrations, but just didn’t know when they’d be. Only everyone’s trying to use the phone at the same time.’

  Meg gave Doris a broad smile, but in her head she was thinking that she would, too! All she wanted was to hear Ralph’s beloved voice, but she knew she’d never manage to get through to his base.

  When she stepped into the hall, there was Clarrie, speaking efficiently into the receiver. But when she saw Meg, such an expression of serene contentment came over her face that she appeared to glow like an angel. Meg’s heart lurched as she recalled Nana May’s words, and she almost felt giddy as her love for Clarrie rushed through her in a whirlwind.

  ‘Just a moment, please, Vicar,’ Clarrie spoke down the phone, and an instant later, the two women embraced like mother and daughter, their souls entwined as one.

  Meg felt Clarrie’s reluctance as she dragged herself away. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ she whispered to Meg, and Meg went back out to the terrace, the world suddenly bright and brilliant in a kaleidoscope of happy colours.

  Later that evening, with Gabriel and Mary happy to stay with Penny as she babysat Bella, everyone else tripped into the village. Despite all the fêtes and celebrations Clarrie had organised over the years, Meg had never seen anything quite like it. The green was heaving with everyone from babies to the aged. Bunting was already up and fluttering from lamp post to lamp post, tree to tree. Tables had been placed outside front doors with any food and drink people could lay their hands on. At one end, a piano had been dragged outside and someone was thumping out Knees up, Mother Brown for gyrating revellers. Big band music or Vera Lynn’s patriotic tones were crackling from open windows, all blending and weaving among a cacophony of human voices raised in rejoicing. Children were playing games, enthralled to be out in the gathering darkness. And at midnight, when hostilities were officially at an end, a match was put to a huge bonfire in front of the church, sending joyous flames and sparks high into the night air.

  Meg suddenly spied Jane hurrying across to her and Clarrie, arm in arm with Eric, still in his uniform. ‘We feel we can get married now!’ she cried, and before anyone had a chance to congratulate them, the happy couple waltzed off into the crowds.

  ‘Ah, I’m so pleased for Jane,’ Clarrie sighed. ‘Eric’s perfect for her. Strange to think they met because of that devil who will be nameless. Hope we never hear of him ever again!’

  ‘So do I! But I’m not going to think about him tonight!’ Meg declared determinedly. ‘I just wish Ralph was here now.’

  ‘And I wish Wig was. But we’ll have them back soon, and things will get back to normal. In the meantime, you and me, we have each other.’

  Moisture suddenly collected in Meg’s eyes again as she looked into Clarrie’s face. Yes, they’d grown so close. And Meg had to choke down the desire to hug her tightly and call her… Mum.

  *

  A week or so later, however, the joyou
s atmosphere at Robin Hill House was tempered with sadness.

  ‘It’s going to be so quiet without you all,’ Clarrie moaned, trying to put on a brave face as they all gathered outside the house with their suitcases at their feet. It was a repeat of the scene six years previously when the evacuees had arrived – except that nobody carried a gas mask, and instead of nervous faces, bittersweet tears glistened in each pair of eyes.

  Clarrie glanced around the ring of friends about to set off to the village and the bus that would take them to the station. From Tunbridge Wells, they would all be travelling together to London Bridge Station where Ed’s mother would be meeting him. At sixteen and fifteen respectively, Joyce and Maureen would be completing their journey alone, but their father had sent written directions in case they didn’t recognise their way around after so long, especially with the bombings having changed everywhere. Since leaving school, Joyce had been working at the village bakery, and Maureen had taken over Louise’s role at Robin Hill House. But back home in London, the shop next door to their parents’ bakery was empty, and their father was hoping to be able to take it on and turn it into a tearoom where the girls would work, with a view to taking it over completely when they were old enough. So, much as they had loved their time at Robin Hill, they were really excited about going home. Clarrie was so happy for them that their future seemed assured, but she would miss them dearly.

  As for Penny, her brood had grown and were capable of making it to the village on foot, and the twins were going with them to help carry their luggage. Just as well since Wig had no petrol for the car, the jolly woman had declared with her wobbling laugh.

  ‘When Daddy comes home, we’ve nowhere to live in London,’ Doris had voiced her thoughts when the days of celebration had finally subsided. ‘He’ll be going back to work at the office, I expect, but there’s such a shortage of places to live, he’ll probably find it easier to find some digs or something without me. So, could I possibly stay on here, please, Clarrie? I like it at the grammar school, but I only want to stay on until next year. And then, I love it here so much, I’d love to work for you, Clarrie.’