by June Francis
A few minutes later her brother appeared in the bedroom and his expression was vaguely disappointed. ‘Mr Jones said bombers were heard but they’ve gone away,’ he murmured, scuffing the rug with the toe of his shoe.
‘That’s all right then!’ Lily smiled her relief and climbed back into bed.
‘He says they’ll be back.’
‘He would,’ she said drily, considering how Frank had changed since he had been made air raid warden for their area. Some considered he had grown too big for his boots and few took his warnings seriously. It was nine months since war had been declared and no bombs had fallen so far on Liverpool, but that did not mean the port was not suffering. After the worse month for shipping casualties in the Atlantic families were reeling from the loss of so many of their menfolk. Sadly for Daisy, Ted had been killed in the first months of that year when his ship had been torpedoed. After weeks of weeping, a tight-lipped but vengeful widow had joined the WRNS and was somewhere in Scotland. Less than a month ago Ben had been evacuated from Dunkirk and was now at a camp in Wales.
Ronnie thrust his hands inside his pockets and now his voice contained a note of excitement. ‘Mr Jones reckons this is the start of the beginning! We’re going to be up against it like Winston Churchill said in his speech. We’re really going to have to fight them on the streets.’
‘But we’re never going to surrender! I know,’ said Lily, yawning. ‘Go back to bed, Ron, before you wake May.’ Her sister had returned to the city like so many others, lulled into a sense of false security when Hitler had not come straight after Britain but had been busy gobbling up most of Europe.
Ronnie gave up and did as he was told.
Several weeks later bombs were dropped on Birkenhead across the Mersey but by then everyone knew the battle for air supremacy was being fought in the south of England with London suffering all-night raids. After that for several nights running Merseyside received the attention of the Luftwaffe and part of the docks and the overhead railway were damaged.
Lily insisted on May’s moving out to the farm again and she went without complaining, much to Lily’s relief. She herself had no intention of leaving with having the dairy to run. Besides, she had volunteered as a driver for the WVS, having persuaded William to teach her earlier that year.
Ben came home on leave but was unwilling to talk about what had happened in France. There was a hardness in his eyes and a tension about his mouth which had not been there before, and Lily was reminded of her father. But Ben was more concerned for them than himself. ‘You’ll be sensible, won’t you, Lil?’ he said earnestly. ‘I know what happened over Matt has hit you hard, but if danger threatens, head for the farm and stay there.’
‘Yes, Ben,’ she said meekly, having no intention of staying under Dora’s roof.
At the end of August the bombs came closer to home when Mill Road hospital was hit and incendaries were dropped in Everton. Two nights running, Lily was out with the WVS mobile canteen serving tea and soup to the firemen and those whose homes were burning. Some of them took their loss philosophically. ‘Ah, well,’ grunted one middle-aged woman, sitting on a chair she had managed to salvage and hugging a crocheted black shawl round her, ‘it’ll save me nagging at my fella to rewallpaper the bedroom. Although the plaster was crumbling to bits with the damp and he was always saying it was a waste of time! This is the warmest that house has been in ages!’
‘Aye, it’s a nice blaze, Maggie,’ said one of her neighbours, puffing on a cigarette. ‘Pity we haven’t got any ’taters to cook on it or even ol’ Hitler to be Guy Fawkes. You and Willie can sleep in our parlour if our house doesn’t catch as well!’ She held out her cup to Lily. ‘Fill that up again, chuck, nectar it is. And while I can still have me cuppa, no blinkin’ air raid is gonna get me down!’
Lily admired their attitude, and did as she was told.
A couple of evenings later when she was not on duty, the siren wailed its awful summons again. She had dozed off in front of the fire but woke with a start. She switched off the wireless and looked across at Ronnie, who was reading the newspaper. ‘Time to go,’ she said, picking up her knitting.
He dropped the paper and was halfway through the doorway when he turned and said, ‘You’ll be all right making your own way, won’t you?’
She knew he could not wait to be off on his bike to the command post, so smiled and hugged her jacket round her. ‘Of course I will.’
Lily walked slowly up the street through the darkness. Somewhere up near the other end she could hear Frank banging on a door. The next moment someone collided into her and she would have fallen if they had not clutched her shoulder.
‘Sorry! It’s so darned dark and I’m not used to the blackout. I didn’t see you there.’ Lily froze as the voice took her back to a different time and place. She cleared her throat but no words came out. He spoke again with concern, ‘Are you all right? Did I frighten you?’
This time she managed a whisper. ‘I never expected to hear your voice again, Matt.’
‘Lily!’ His hand slid over her shoulder and up her neck to caress her cheek, her nose, her mouth, and she was aware that his skin was rough where once it had been smooth. ‘It’s really you! Lord, who’d believe we would meet like this?’ he said hoarsely.
Her heart was racing but she sought to make her voice sound cool, calm and collected though it came out as a croak. ‘Who indeed?’
He fumbled for her hand and gripped it tightly. ‘Lily, we’ve got to talk.’
‘Not before time!’ she exclaimed, trying to recapture the anger she had felt towards him during his absence. ‘Perhaps you can explain why the hell you had to go off to New Guinea for the past two years? Not telling me beggars belief!’
‘I wasn’t there two years,’ he said swiftly. ‘If I had been, I would have been here sooner!’
‘That doesn’t make sense.’ Her voiced sounded suddenly raw.
‘It would if you’d let me explain.’
‘Can you explain the letters you didn’t write?’ She had control of her voice now if not her hand.
‘I wrote some all right,’ he said grimly.
‘But I never got them. I never knew where you were for over a year. That was cruel, Matt. Torture! I imagined all kinds of things happening to you.’
‘I didn’t hear from you for months either,’ he retorted, his voice rising. ‘Not after Ronnie’s ear when I wrote two letters on the same day. Isn’t that cruel?’
‘You don’t have to shout at me! I did write. You just never got my letters.’
They stared intently at each other through the darkness, each trying to make out the other’s expression, though they could not. Then they heard as if for the first time the drone of bombers and the firing of ack-ack guns. They looked up and saw tracer patterns and parachute flares lighting the sky. There came the noise of explosions in the near distance. Without a word Lily pulled on Matt’s hand and they raced down the street.
In the dim light of a couple of torches they saw anxious eyes turning in their direction as they dived into the air raid shelter and pulled the door shut behind them. One of the faces belonged to Mrs Draper, who was sitting on a lower bunk bed, turning a heel on a khaki sock. ‘Evening, dear. Not the best kind of night for an evening stroll.’
‘I could do without Hitler’s hailstones,’ gasped Lily, looking for a place to sit. There was a bunk bed free by the entrance.
Matt had already spotted it. He sat, pulling Lily down with him. They gazed at each other and she felt that once familiar fluttering under her ribs. She could hardly believe she could still feel the same about him after all that had happened, but she did and took in his appearance greedily. His face was browner than when last she had seen it, his cheeks leaner and his jaw more angular, but the bump on his nose was the same and his grey gaze still had the power to communicate with her in a way nobody else’s could.
Mrs Draper spoke again. ‘Are my eyes deceiving me or is that your dear husband I see, Lily?’
‘Yes,’ she said starkly. ‘He’s just arrived home.’
‘Not an auspicious moment, Mr Gibson, but you’re very welcome,’ said the old lady.
‘Thank you,’ said Matt in a vague voice, still staring at Lily. ‘I would have been here sooner but the ship on which I left India was torpedoed.’
India! thought Lily, astonished, but was silent, not wanting the neighbours to realise she had not known where he had been.
A tiny voice piped up: ‘You’re an Australian, though, aren’t yer, mister? Me aunt lives in Brisbane. Perhaps yer knows her?’
‘Shut up, Tommy, Australia’s a big place,’ said his mother.
Before Matt could speak again the all-clear sounded and with sighs of relief they all trailed out of the shelter.
‘I didn’t find out until a few months ago you’d been to Australia,’ murmured Matt against Lily’s ear as they crossed the road.
‘How come?’ she said with a touch of breathlessness. ‘But then maybe that’s not so surprising. If you’d stayed in one place long enough, you would have done.’ She was suddenly angry again. ‘When I think of the way I went looking for you, I could scream. And you’ve been in India of all places!’ She almost choked on the words.
‘Lily, I can explain.’ There was a hint of desperation in his voice.
‘I’m sure you can,’ she hissed. ‘God called you there! That’s always your reason for doing anything, going anywhere.’
‘You knew that,’ he said. ‘What I didn’t realise was how loving and being married to you would tear me apart, cause me to have to make choices between Him and you! I never had to do that before, Lil. I had to think long and hard.’ He was prevented from saying more because the siren sounded again and Mrs Draper, who was a few feet in front of them, turned and shooed them in the direction of the shelter. Automatically they obeyed.
‘In and out like a blue-arsed fly,’ muttered one woman, seating herself before taking a small bottle from her pocket and unscrewing the top. She took a swig from it and offered it around. They all politely refused, although Lily felt that she would have liked a drink.
‘Tell us about Australia then,’ said the woman, pocketing her bottle.
Matt looked at Lily. She stared back, raising her eyebrows. ‘Go on, tell them,’ she said with a touch of acid. ‘You’re the expert.’
‘I’d prefer listening to your impressions,’ he countered, smiling.
She hesitated, realising how so many of her impressions were tied up with Rob Fraser. Now hardly seemed the time to bring up her reason for being in his company. ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It hurts remembering. Besides, you know the country and its people better, so you talk. It’s what you do best. Sweet-talk people.’
He winced and she realised she had used Rob’s words about him. How could she do that? She did not really believe it. Her eyes went to his face and the word ‘Sorry’ was on her lips, but he started to speak about the goldfields and of Henry Lawson, a poet.
‘He was more than just a poet, though,’ Matt said, warming to his theme. ‘He was a campaigner for the rights of the working classes. He was born in a tent in the goldfields of New South Wales. His family was poverty-stricken and he grew up despising those who exploited the poor.’
‘Too right,’ muttered several people. ‘Give us some of his words then. Anything to stop us thinking of them bombs falling.’
Lily realised she had forgotten the air raid, having fallen under the spell of Matt’s voice once again. She looked at him and their gazes locked. She felt heat rising in her body but could not look away.
Matt cleared his throat. ‘This is taken from “Shearers” and catches the real feel of the outback.’ He recited softly but with feeling:
‘“No church-bell rings them from the Track,
No pulpit lights their blindness,
’Tis hardship, drought, and homelessness
that teach those Bushmen kindness;
The mateship born, in barren lands,
Of toil and thirst and danger.
The camp-fare for the wanderer set,
The first place to the stranger.”’
He fell silent. Then said, ‘That’s what you could say Christianity’s all about – mateship, giving the first place to the stranger, or to others, as Jesus said.’
Lily stared at the faces of those listening and was aware that Matt had really woven his magic again. Silver-tongued! ‘Did he sweet-talk you?’ Rob’s words came into her head once again and she felt suddenly guilty. Her stomach churned.
Little Tommy piped up. ‘What about “Waltzing Matilda” – do you know that?’
Matt rumpled his hair and said, ‘What Australian doesn’t? It’s almost our national anthem.’ He began to sing and they all joined in.
Mrs Draper, her small eyes bright, said, ‘What about a hymn, Mr Gibson?’
Matt exchanged a wry smile with Lily and began to sing the Twenty-Third Psalm which was taken up by all of them. Then it was a rousing ‘Jerusalem’ and ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’.
The all-clear sounded and they came out of the shelter, easing their backs and looking round. There was a blaze in the upper storey of a house near to the main road but it looked like Frank was on the scene, as were several firefighters. There was a chorus of goodnights and Lily and Matt walked back up the street, Mrs Draper trotting at his side, asking about Papua.
After the old lady left them Lily found herself wanting to ask questions but not knowing how to begin. Matt was silent as well, and she decided he was waiting until they were really alone. They went into the house and found Ronnie, asleep in a chair, smuts on his face, legs stretched out towards the cold cinders in the fireplace.
‘Where’s he been?’ asked Matt, his face softening. ‘Is he OK?’
Lily told him Ronnie was acting as messenger boy. She glanced at the clock which showed four-twenty. ‘I’ll fetch him a blanket. There’s no point in waking him. We’ll be doing the milking in an hour or so. You’ll have tea?’ she said politely.
‘Lily!’ Matt reached out for her but she backed away, knowing that once he touched her she would be unable to think sensibly, and she wanted to get a few things straight first.
‘I have to get that blanket,’ she said.
A small smile lifted his mouth. ‘Still putting them first, Lily?’
She was unsure whether it was an accusation. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He shrugged. ‘Fetch the blanket. I’ll put the kettle on.’
She hesitated before blurting out, ‘I need a few moments to think!’ Her hands gripped the back of the sofa. ‘Your arrival is unexpected, Matt. I waited a long time. Joy must have told you.’
‘Eventually!’ He turned from the stove and threw the matches on the table. His eyes glinting, he said, ‘We had a disagreement. It appears she kept back some of our letters. She’d grown used to thinking of my house as hers.’
Lily experienced a rush of emotion. ‘I don’t think I’m that surprised! She definitely acted as if I had no right to be there.’
They stared at each other, and Ronnie stirred. Matt seized hold of Lily’s arm and drew her out into the lobby. ‘It was the missionary society who told me you’d written but I found that out later rather than sooner. Communications aren’t that good in New Guinea but I heard rumours about the war so I left for India where I had a couple of friends in the British Army who told me exactly what the situation was in Europe. I believed you to be still in Liverpool and I knew I had to get back to you. I told the Society I was leaving and it was then I discovered you’d come looking for me. Convinced you were in Sydney, I caught the first ship I could but it was torpedoed, as I said.’ His hand had tightened on her arm but before she could comment, he continued, ‘Fortunately we were picked up by our own side. When I eventually reached Sydney you’d well gone. You can guess the rest.’
Lily felt much better hearing all this but still had a question. ‘But why did
you go to New Guinea in the first place? Why didn’t you stay in Queensland as you said in your last letter?’ She saw a muscle in his jaw clench and carried on in a whisper: ‘I know you were pretty fed up because I still hadn’t joined you, but …’
‘I was more than fed up!’ he interrupted. ‘I kept wondering if I’d made a mistake, given in to my carnal desires as the Bible says. I started thinking you didn’t love me enough after all – that you were realising you’d made a mistake in marrying me. That I was a means to an end which now you did not want after all. I needed to get away – to be alone – to think and to pray. So like St Peter with his fishing, I went back to what I already knew. Being alone was the way I’d always dealt with problems in the past, but it didn’t work this time because they weren’t just my problems but ours and I should have considered beforehand the changes being married would make. Instead I rushed you into marriage because I wanted you. It was the wrong thing to do as time proved.’
‘You were never just a means to an end,’ said Lily tautly. ‘And I don’t believe our marrying was wrong, but we should have talked more as you said. I had guessed some of what you’ve said. Miss Morell told me you probably needed to be alone – that marriage must have been a big step for you.’
‘She was right as usual. She’s known me a long time – was like a mother to me. I was utterly selfish.’
‘We can all be selfish,’ said Lily quietly. ‘But let’s get back to what you did. You went to New Guinea where the natives have been known to eat people. It doesn’t make sense!’
‘I suppose it wouldn’t make sense to most people but I needed isolation.’ His eyes twinkled unexpectedly. ‘You didn’t think I’d really been eaten, did you? It’s not quite like that any more in New Guinea. Most of the natives prefer roast pig.’
‘I didn’t know that!’ She flushed. ‘But truthfully I didn’t think of you being eaten, only that you’d left me without a word, having realised your mistake in marrying me.’