Lizzie's Secret

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘Sometimes…’ Lizzie caught back a sob. ‘I know I shouldn’t, but Harry hasn’t written for weeks now and…’ she shook her head because she couldn’t tell even Beth the way her thoughts had gone recently. Since Sebastian took her to tea he’d been in her thoughts more and more, and that was wrong. She was Harry’s wife and she’d had no right to feel the way she did when Sebastian kissed her softly on the lips when he brought her home.

  ‘I love you, Lizzie Larch,’ he’d told her in a low voice. ‘No, don’t say anything. I don’t expect you to love me, and I know you’re happily married – but I wanted you to know if I didn’t come back this time…’

  Lizzie caught something in his voice that made her stare at him, but she’d known she must not ask, because his work was secret and he couldn’t tell her. Clearly, he was concerned about this next mission, whatever it was, which is why he’d come to see her. Her throat tightened and she hardly knew what to say, but she managed at last, ‘You must come back, Sebastian… I’m not particularly happy…’

  ‘Lizzie,’ he said, and there was a note of concern in his voice. ‘I sensed something – can’t you tell me?’

  ‘No,’ Lizzie whispered. ‘I may have made a mistake, but I can’t run away now. Harry’s my husband and I’m having his child – that’s all there is to it.’

  Sebastian took a gentle hold of her arms, looking into her face, ‘Tell me, Lizzie, is there hope for me one day?’

  ‘Perhaps… I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I shouldn’t even say that…’

  ‘But you have and it will keep me going,’ he said and smiled in his old confident way. ‘I’m going to come back, Lizzie Larch, and when I do – you’ll be mine…’

  Lizzie hadn’t answered; she couldn’t because she felt choked. Harry was her husband and she ought to remain faithful to him despite what had happened.

  ‘Take care of yourself,’ she whispered as he walked back to his car, but she knew he hadn’t heard the words.

  ‘Come back to me, Lizzie,’ Beth said. ‘You were miles away.’

  ‘Sorry. I was thinking – but don’t marry for anything but love, Beth, or you will regret it. Please promise not to do it out of desperation. We’ll work something out. I promise you.’

  ‘All right, I’ll wait until Dad throws me out,’ Beth said and laughed. ‘But if I turn up on your doorstep with the twins and all my clobber you’ve only got yourself to blame.’

  Chapter 38

  Lizzie looked at the registered letter that had come through the post for her. She knew the writing instantly and was reluctant to open it, but curiosity overcame her and she slit the seal, taking out the contents. Inside was a thin piece of writing paper and a bundle of five-pound notes. She didn’t count them but guessed there was well over a hundred pounds. Pushing the money back inside the envelope, she took out the sheet of paper.

  Please do not be offended my dearest Lizzie. I wanted you to have this just in case. I promised to return to you, but in war promises are sometimes broken from no fault of one’s own. I want you to know I’ve made provision for you in my will if I die. You are a talented and wonderful person, Lizzie Larch, and you deserve your chance in life.

  If things become too awful for you, you should use this money to escape – and one day, pray God, I shall be home and you can tell me why you’re so unhappy. I love you and nothing can change that, my darling girl. I know you’ve never trusted me, Lizzie, though I’m not sure why – but trust me now. Make a life of your own if I never return…

  Ever yours, Sebastian.

  Lizzie felt the sting of tears. She couldn’t accept Sebastian’s generosity, of course she couldn’t, but she would keep his money until he returned because she wanted to give it to him in person and explain why she couldn’t accept. She could only pray that he came safely home so that she could thank him for his kindness.

  The post girl had delivered an ordinary letter as well as the registered one. Picking it up, she realised that it was from her husband. She opened it and stared at the words Harry had written:

  My dearest Lizzie,

  You’ve no idea how much I have regretted what happened on my last leave. I love you so much, darling, and your generous letter gave me hope that you really mean to forgive me. Because of that, I’ve asked for leave and though it can’t be just yet, I shall come home as soon as they can spare me, I hope in time for our anniversary. Things are still difficult here. I shan’t say more, because I know you understand.

  Please go on loving me, Lizzie. Your devoted Harry XXX

  Lizzie felt wretched as she looked at the letter, reading it over and over again. He hadn’t written all this time – and now such a loving letter that it tugged at her heart and made her remorseful that she’d allowed Sebastian to take her to tea and kiss her afterwards.

  She was Harry’s wife and she had no right to encourage another man – even if Sebastian’s kiss had made her heart sing. Her mind was like a crazy pattern of pictures, colourful, jagged, none of them making sense – and yet she knew that she’d been too young to marry when she did.

  However, it was done and much too late to think of running out on him. She would tell Sebastian next time that though she liked him very much she could never leave her husband for his sake… and yet the very thought of seeing the hurt in his eyes dimmed the day.

  She put both the letters and the money away in a drawer and went to work. Ed had returned to work the day after the funeral; he’d been at his bench cutting out felt when Lizzie arrived that morning. She’d hesitated, wondering what to say, but he’d just nodded to her, so she’d taken his lead and started talking about their latest orders. It seemed that Ed was working longer hour He’d gone out and got himself a room in a lodging house, refusing to impose on Aunt Miriam’s good nature for more than one night.

  Lizzie believed he was shutting his grief out of his mind, perhaps in a similar way to what she’d done after she’d been raped, but Ed hadn’t lost his memory. He was working because he had to and it was the only way he could face life without Madge.

  *

  The Luftwaffe were attacking ships in the Channel and any neutral ship heading for Britain had been warned that they were liable to be attacked; the German High Command had, it seemed, determined to starve Britain into submission. Churchill said we were alone but would not be defeated and the mood of the people was angry, refusing to give into the bully Hitler.

  By the middle of August, the German planes had started to attack Britain’s airfields.

  Towards the end of August, the first bombs fell in Surat Street in Bethnal Green, one directly on a house where two members of the family were trapped, and the other in the park behind the Anderson shelter, where the rest of the family had taken refuge.

  It was early September and Lizzie was getting close to her time when a letter came from Harry to tell her he was coming home. He would in fact be home for their wedding anniversary on the 19th, because he was due some leave and intended to spend it with her. She told his uncle at work and that evening called in on Aunt Miriam on her way back to the flat.

  ‘I thought you would want to know that Harry is coming home next weekend. His letter said to expect him on Saturday evening.’

  Aunt Miriam smiled at her. ‘That’s wonderful news. I can’t remember how long it is since we’ve seen him. You must both come to Sunday dinner… you should be resting as much as possible now, my dear.’

  It was strange that Harry was getting leave when the aerodromes were under constant attack from the Luftwaffe. A couple of nights earlier the East India Docks had been heavily raided, destroying an engineering works and a garage as well as damaging many other buildings in the area, just part of the savage onslaught on London that had begun in the last few days. These past couple of weeks, bombs had rained on the CapitaLand many other cities and towns and because of that Churchill had retaliated by bombing Berlin and now they were getting the Germans’ answer as London suffered terrible raids that left parts of the
city devastated.

  After the first bombs had fallen, people came out from the shelters and the underground feeling stunned and disbelieving. London seemed to be a sea of flames with fires everywhere. Woolwich Arsenal was hit, also a power station and a gas works, which had left hundreds of people without power. A shelter in the East End had taken a direct hit, killing and injuring people. Water mains had burst, making it difficult for the fire crews to get their hoses working, and sirens from ambulances, fire engines and the police could be heard all over the city.

  So why was Harry being given leave at such a crucial time?

  Had he disgraced himself? Somehow Lizzie felt that Harry would rather die than let his comrades know he was frightened – in fact, his shame was worse than his fear, because if he’d really been a coward he would surely have deserted or feigned illness?

  She would just have to wait and see what sort of state he was in when he got home – and this time she was determined to respond to his kisses. Harry needed her and she mustn’t let him down again – she must, and would, conquer her feelings of anger or resentment every time he touched her.

  *

  Lizzie had saved her rations so that she could give Harry a few decent meals when he came home on leave. She had bacon and eggs, which were almost like gold dust these days, but she’d queued for them at her favourite grocer and he’d produced two eggs from beneath the counter, winking at her as he slipped them into her basket.

  On the Saturday evening, Lizzie had just changed into her prettiest dress and was brushing her hair when the front doorbell rang. She went downstairs, feeling a nervous flutter in her stomach as she anticipated seeing Harry again. However, when she opened the door she saw there was someone else standing there. He was wearing uniform and it was a moment or two before she realised it was Harry’s friend; the one she’d met at the pub that evening – the one who had caused the row between them.

  ‘Robbie,’ she said in surprise.

  ‘May I come in please?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I was expecting Harry.’

  ‘I know you were and that’s why I came myself. I wanted you to hear it from me, Lizzie. You’ll hear lots of versions of what I’m going to tell you, but they won’t be the whole truth. Harry was my best mate. I really liked him and he wasn’t a coward, even though he thought he was…’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Lizzie asked, her throat catching as they stood in the hall.

  ‘ Harry never refused a mission but three days ago he had so much to drink that he wasn’t fit for duty.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Lizzie went cold all over. Robbie was talking as if…

  ‘The CO told him to go and sober up if he wanted to fly with us again and Harry went mad, said a lot of things he didn’t mean and threw a punch at the old man. They locked him in the guardhouse and he was put on a charge of assaulting an officer – and some of the chaps are saying he’s a coward, that he deliberately got drunk so that he couldn’t go on a particularly dangerous mission.’

  ‘No! He wouldn’t!’

  ‘No, I don’t believe it and I told the CO he was just due a break.’

  ‘So is he still locked up?’

  ‘The CO dropped the charges and told him he was relieved from active duty until further notice – said he would arrange for him to go on ground duties for a spell. But he said he was just tired and wanted to fly with the rest of us. I saw him leave with his crew; he was quiet, Lizzie, but he grinned and gave me the thumbs up.’’

  ‘What happened?’ Lizzie asked, feeling sick inside. ‘Harry’s dead, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes,’ Robbie hesitated, then, ‘he came back from the mission with the others and went off by himself. Someone said it was absolute hell and they were lucky to have got back in one piece… I don’t know all of it, Lizzie, but Harry got stinking drunk and took the CO’s car without permission. He drove into a tree and the car burst into flames…’ he sounded emotional as he went on, ‘I’m so sorry; I can’t believe it myself. They say the car was a twisted wreck and he must have died instantly…’

  ‘No! My God, Harry was terrified of burning in the cockpit…’ She swayed and Robbie caught her arm. ‘I feel a bit faint…’

  ‘Let me get you upstairs. You need a drink.’

  Lizzie wasn’t quite sure afterwards how she got up the stairs, but she thought Robbie might have carried her. When she came to her senses she was lying on a sofa and he was standing over her with a glass of whisky – from the half bottle of whisky she’d bought for Harry.

  ‘Drink a few sips, it will steady you,’ Robbie said as she sat up a little uncertainly. ‘I’m sorry to be the one who told you, but I didn’t want you hearing some garbled table of Harry being a coward. Whatever anyone says to you, Lizzie, he was a bloody hero; they all are.’

  ‘Why does driving a car drunk make him a coward?’

  ‘Because there were no skid marks. They think he might have done it deliberately, but I don’t believe it – he was looking forward to his leave with you.’

  ‘Not suicide. He couldn’t have done that – he wouldn’t, I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Neither do I, but I’ve heard talk and they might put it in the police report – I’m sorry, Lizzie. Harry loved you and I’m sure it was an accident…’

  ‘It must have been.’ Lizzie sipped her drink. ‘If he were really a coward, he would have asked for a transfer.’

  ‘Harry had a lot to lose,’ Robbie said. ‘Some of us don’t have a wife like you to come home to. He was very proud of you, Lizzie… I think that’s why he brooded such a lot.’ Robbie hesitated, then, ‘The only thing I don’t understand is why he volunteered for every dirty mission they handed out… He didn’t come home when he could – you hadn’t quarrelled?’

  Lizzie didn’t answer, because she couldn’t. Her throat was too tight and she felt as if she were choking, the misery sweeping through her as she thought of all the wasted time – of all the times Harry might have spent a few hours with her but had chosen not to.

  ‘I’m sorry that isn’t my business,’ Robbie apologised. ‘But he became more silent, less inclined to talk about you and home, and he pushed himself too hard.’

  ‘It was just a silly misunderstanding.’ Lizzie couldn’t tell him that Harry had been jealous of him and it was his jealousy that had led to the trouble between them. His flirting had made Harry jealous and caused the drunken attack on her. ‘I think he volunteered for those missions, because he was trying to prove that he was as brave as the rest of you.’

  ‘Believe me, we’re all shit-scared,’ Robbie said. ‘Sorry, I should mind my language, but it’s how we feel.’

  ‘Don’t apologise. I’m just grateful to you for explaining.’

  ‘You will get an official letter but they tell you only the bare facts. You had to know it all – for Harry’s sake. I don’t believe he meant to kill himself, Lizzie. I think something happened and the car went out of control.’

  ‘Yes, it must have, thank you…’ Lizzie felt a spasm of grief for a young life ended. Her child would never know its father and she would never see Harry again. In that moment she was remembering that she’d loved him at the start and a fierce regret swept over her. What had gone so terribly wrong for them – and what was she going to tell his aunt and uncle? Her hand trembled and for just one instant she felt as if she might fall, and then she steadied herself.

  ‘Do you want me to stay for a while? Is there anyone you can call?’

  ‘I’ll go and see my friend,’ Lizzie said, deciding that she needed to talk to Beth before she could face Uncle Bertie.

  ‘Shall I fetch her for you?’

  ‘No, thank you, Robbie. Beth has two children of her own. I’ll go round myself on the bus…’

  ‘I’ve got my car outside. At least let me take you where you want to go.’

  ‘All right,’ Lizzie agreed. ‘It will save waiting for the bus. It’s very kind of you, Robbie. I’ll just get my coat.’

  Lizzie pu
lled on her jacket and picked up her bag. As she was getting into Robbie’s car she thought she saw a man lift his hand to her from the end of the street but it was too far to see properly and she was blowing her nose prior to powdering it, because she knew her tears would have left streaks.

  Beth opened the door, looking at her in surprise. ‘What’s wrong?’ she said. ‘Was that Harry in the car? Where has he gone?’

  ‘It was his friend; he gave me a lift…’ Lizzie swallowed hard. ‘May I come in, Beth?’

  ‘Of course, love – what’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s Harry… he – he’s dead…’

  ‘Oh, Lizzie,’ Beth said and drew her quickly inside, her arms going round her in a loving embrace. ‘And you were expecting him home – how did it happen?’

  Beth tried to draw her into the kitchen, but Lizzie hung back. ‘Can we talk in private, Beth? There’s something I need to discuss and – where’s your father?’

  ‘He’s working late,’ Beth said. ‘I saw the car pull up from my window and came down to meet you. Mum’s in the kitchen…’

  ‘I want to tell you, no one else…’

  Mrs Court came out into the hall, looking at them in surprise. ‘Lizzie’s had some bad news, Mum. We’re going upstairs.’ Beth turned and went up the stairs, Lizzie climbing laboriously after her.

  ‘You’re nearly as bad as I was,’ Beth said. ‘And I had twins…’

  Lizzie would normally have laughed, but felt as if all the laughter had drained out of her body, leaving an empty husk. She entered Beth’s room and sat on the edge of the bed, still numb with misery.

  Beth sat next to her and held her hand. ‘Now tell me, love. What is so awful it’s making you look like that?’

  ‘It is awful, Beth. Not just his death but the way he died – he got drunk, stole his Commanding Officer’s car and drove it into a tree. They think he might have done it on purpose…’

  ‘No, I don’t believe it,’ Beth cried and looked stunned. ‘Why would he do such a thing? He wasn’t unhappy; he had everything to live for. You and the baby and a good job to come back to after the war…’