‘I can’t go through that again!’ he cried and began to scream incoherently at all the people running by. One of the stretcher-bearers told him to shut up, but the other gripped his shoulder and spoke in a quiet, reassuring voice.
‘You’re all right with us,’ he said. ‘Just lie still.’
Mark’s panic subsided, but he lay whimpering at the sound of gunfire up above. When the air raid came to nothing, he was taken for the operation and blissful oblivion. After that he slipped in and out of a feverish sleep and nurses came to peer in concern. He heard doctors talking about his heart and lungs being weakened from smoke inhalation, but he was not sure if they were talking to him or whether he dreamt it. When he was finally fully conscious again, he felt shame at his cowardly reaction to the air-raid warning and withdrew into his own thoughts.
But here there was no relief, for he was plagued with guilt at leaving Skippy behind to die. The image of his friend’s pleading face haunted him and gave him no peace. He felt numb with helplessness and a sense of failure.
Gradually information seeped out and spread around the injured men about the fate of their comrades. Mark had a visit from his fellow gunner, Andy, who confirmed that Skippy was dead.
‘You nearly got yourself killed trying to save him,’ Andy reminded him. ‘You couldn’t have done any more.’
‘If I’d got there sooner; if I’d been there with him …’ Mark was tortured with doubt.
‘Best not to think too much about it, eh?’ Andy said briskly.
But Mark was consumed by black thoughts. ‘There’s something else…’ He stopped Andy from going, grappling with his memory. ‘Someone was with me when I jumped − helped me find me way out.’
‘Really? Who?’ Andy asked.
Mark was hesitant. ‘It − it sounded like Skippy.’
Andy gave him a pitying look. ‘Couldn’t have been,’ he answered. ‘No one else came out of there alive after you. It’s a bloody miracle you’re here, mate.’
Mark’s look was harrowed. ‘Then who was the lad that saved me?’
Andy could not answer him.
***
It was early evening by the time Jo and her father and Pearl made their way back to the flats. They had stayed with Ivy while Pearl kept popping out to ring Brenda for news. The reports were conflicting. First she had been told that Mark was only slightly injured, and then another phone call had come through to say he was more seriously hurt.
‘Lass sounds in a bad way,’ Pearl fretted. ‘Worried about how badly burnt he is.’
Jo winced. ‘Should I go and see her?’ But no one was sure.
Ivy had then become agitated about Matty and Norma being told. ‘They haven’t released any names or details on the news yet and Brenda doesn’t speak to them, so they’ll still be worrying.’
Jo and her father exchanged looks. She knew Jack was thinking the same, that Mark’s parents had shown scant concern at his going away. But Pearl was more generous. ‘Of course they’ll be worried. Would you like me to pop over, Ivy?’
‘Oh, please, pet,’ Ivy said gratefully.
While Pearl went, Jo persuaded Ivy to lie down. ‘I’ll take any messages,’ she insisted.
Pearl had returned to tell them that only Norma had been at home and that she had wept with hysterical relief to hear her youngest son was safe. ‘I’ve never seen her so emotional,’ Pearl said in surprise. ‘Matty went off to work leaving her to worry alone. But maybe even Matty will be pleased to have a son who’s a hero.’
Afterwards, they had steeled themselves to go and visit the Jacksons. Pearl drove them over to High Farm, where Skippy’s elderly parents lived in retirement. Jo had been to the estate frequently, especially the summer she had briefly gone out with their son. She remembered with a pang Mrs Jackson’s cheerful efforts to fill her full of cake every time she visited. Both parents had always doted on their only child.
They were in shock. Mr Jackson stood by the window, gazing out sightlessly at the neat patch of front garden, hardly able to speak, while Skippy’s mother sat clutching his uniformed photograph. ‘I’m that proud of our Billy,’ she kept repeating, and glancing to the door as if he might walk through it at any moment.
‘If there’s anything I can do…?’ Jo offered, feeling helpless and tearful. They left not knowing what to say. By the time they got home they were completely drained. The telephone was ringing when Jack unlocked his flat but stopped just as he picked it up.
‘They’ll ring back,’ Pearl reassured, flopping into a chair and kicking off her shoes. ‘Do you mind if I stay for tea?’
‘You don’t have to ask, Auntie Pearl,’ Jo laughed.
Her aunt gave her a quizzical look. ‘And what about you? Doesn’t Alan mind you being on the missing list this long?’
Jo flushed. ‘That was probably him ringing. I left him having a birthday party yesterday − was it only yesterday? Seems like ages.’
‘You’ll not be popular then,’ Jack grunted.
‘Why don’t you give him a ring?’ Pearl said quickly, giving Jack a sharp look.
Jo nodded, beginning to feel guilty at the abrupt way she had rushed out of the flat. She had hardly thought about him since, but now that the panic over Mark had subsided, she wanted to hear Alan’s reassuring voice. She had just decided that she would give him a call when the doorbell rang.
‘I’ll go,’ Jack said.
Jo went to get a beer from the fridge before ringing Alan. ‘What do you want, Auntie Pearl?’ she asked.
‘Anything, as long as it’s not more tea,’ Pearl said, momentarily closing her eyes. Jo pulled the ring off a can and poured the beer into two tin mugs. She crossed the room and handed one to her aunt. ‘By, you know how to do things in style,’ Pearl said drily.
‘Getting fussy in your old age?’ Jo teased, and perched on the arm of her chair.
They could hear a man talking in a low voice in the hallway, then Jack appeared in the doorway ahead of the mystery caller. All colour had drained from his face. The next second, Jo caught sight of the man behind. He was in army uniform. And at once, Jo knew.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The officer was from the Army Medical Corps, and they sat him down in Jack’s chair and offered him a drink as if he had come on a social call. There was an unreality about the calmness in the room. The captain declined the drink and tried to explain.
‘Your son was on the Sir Galahad,’ he said quietly. For a terrible moment Jo recalled the stark images of the landing ship on fire that had been shown on the news. She groped for Pearl’s hand and squeezed hard. The officer went on: ‘Colin made it off the boat. But he was hit on the shore − attending to the wounded.’
‘Just like he was supposed to.’ Her father smiled proudly. ‘That’s our Colin.’
Jo sat frozen in confusion. ‘But he is − dead?’
‘Yes.’ The young officer nodded. ‘I’m very sorry. The report said it was instantaneous. He wouldn’t have suffered.’
It was Pearl who noticed Jack shaking uncontrollably. She got up at once, knocking over her mug of beer, and went to him.
‘Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry!’ she whispered.
Jo watched, stunned, as Pearl put her arms about her father and his face crumpled like a small boy’s.
‘He’s dead, Pearl,’ he cried, ‘me lad’s dead!’ and he convulsed into sobs on her shoulder. All Jo could do was look on in shock as her aunt tried to comfort her heartbroken father.
***
After that, Jo was only half aware of events happening in the outside world. She remembered hearing of the advance of troops on Stanley and reports of fierce fighting to regain the hills around the Falklands capital. Names like Mount Longdon and Tumbledown registered in her mind, but little else, as she existed in a state of numbness. She stayed on at her father’s flat, attempting to carry out mundane chores for him such as making breakfast, washing up, shopping for food. Jack could do nothing but sit watching the television as if the wh
ole war was a film with a tidy ending that he was waiting to discover.
Jo wanted to talk about Colin, but her father did not. When she grew weepy or impatient with him, only Pearl seemed able to cope with them both. When Jo buried her head in her hands and wept inconsolably, overwhelmed by grief for her brother, Pearl would be the one to put her arms about her.
‘I just can’t imagine never being able to see him again,’ Jo sobbed. ‘And now Dad’s cutting himself off from me, too. I can’t bear it!’
Pearl rocked her gently. ‘He doesn’t mean to hurt you, pet,’ she explained. ‘He’s just having difficulty believing the nightmare’s true. We all are. Don’t be too hard on him.’
A padre from Colin’s unit called to offer sympathy and see how they were coping, but Jo was not sure her father took in much of the visit. That same evening, the Ministry of Defence officially released the names of the fifty-six servicemen killed or missing from the attack on Fitzroy, including Colin’s. Only after that did Pearl manage to persuade Jack to go to bed rather than sleep fitfully in his chair.
‘It’s as if he’s been on watch,’ Pearl said sadly to Jo. ‘But now it’s official, he knows Colin’s not coming back.’
‘It’s like a bad dream,’ Jo said angrily. ‘I just can’t believe he won’t ever come banging in through that door, shouting that he’s home. Can you? If we could have a funeral even…!’ Her look turned forlorn. ‘But there’s nothing. We just have to believe them when they say he’s dead and buried in some bleak, far-off place we’ll never see.’
Pearl put her arms around her. ‘At least he’s buried alongside his fellow soldiers,’ she said gently. ‘He was always at his happiest with them.’
‘But I want him to come back alive with all the others,’ Jo cried. ‘I want to see him marry Marilyn, have kids − he had so much to live for!’ She buried her head in her aunt’s shoulder; the thought of Marilyn’s shocked face haunting her.
She had been to see her friend, who had gone home to be with her parents, but it had been a difficult meeting. Marilyn had looked terrible and had hardly been able to speak about Colin. Mrs Leishman had tried to ward off Jo. ‘You look that like your brother,’ she said, ‘it just upsets her more. Maybe you should leave it for a few days.’
Then, late one evening, there was a sudden announcement on the television. Mrs Thatcher was giving a statement in the House of Commons. ‘…Our forces reached the outskirts of Port Stanley. Large numbers of Argentine soldiers threw down their weapons. They are reported to be flying white flags over Port Stanley.’ Jo sat with her father and aunt as the news of surrender was confirmed. They watched the Prime Minister on her return to 10 Downing Street telling the British people to rejoice at their victory. In the background they could hear crowds of onlookers cheering and singing ‘Rule Britannia’.
‘So it’s over,’ Jo said, taking her father’s hand and squeezing it.
He looked haggard. ‘Not for us it’s not,’ he said bitterly, and switched off the television for the first time in days.
***
The only thought which kept Jo going through late June was that Mark had been spared. News of Colin’s death brought reconciliation with Brenda. Her former friend came to see Jack and found Jo there. After an awkward start, they hugged and talked about the old days when they had been in a happy group together.
‘Any news of Mark?’ Jo asked tentatively.
Brenda’s tense face broke into a smile of relief. ‘Aye, he sent me a letter from the hospital ship. Says he’s feeling a lot better. Had an operation on his leg. He was hit by flying metal. I just can’t wait to get him back and make a fuss over him.’ Her excitement at seeing Mark again was palpable. ‘We’re going to organise a big welcome home party for him at the Coach and Eight. The Duggans are going to help pay for it.’
‘Mark’s parents?’ Jo asked in astonishment.
Brenda nodded. ‘They’ve been canny since it all happened. I don’t know why Mark fell out with them so badly − they’ve been fine with me these past couple of weeks. And Gordon’s been round to see if there’s anything I need, an’ all.’ She caught Jo’s suspicious look and added, ‘Oh, I know what you think of him. But Mark being wounded has brought the family together. I like to think they might all get on again, once he’s back.’
‘Aye.’ Jo smiled encouragingly, keeping her doubts to herself. ‘That would be great.’ They would need each other’s support even more, Jo thought, once Ivy’s secret came out. She was pleased that Mark would be made a fuss of when he returned. It would be something to cheer them all up, she thought. But Jack would not be comforted by talk of homecoming celebrations for Colin’s best friend. He sank deeper into his own gloom, wrapped in grief that Jo could not penetrate.
Eventually Pearl said to her. ‘Why don’t you get yourself back to Alan’s? You need to get on with your own life − I can keep an eye on your dad. Alan’s been very patient over all this.’
Jo had to admit this was true. Alan had phoned her every day to see how she was, and had come down to see Jack. But she knew she had been neglecting him more than she should. Now, she realised, she wanted to get back to Sandyford and some semblance of normality. Brooding round her father’s flat was doing none of them any good.
She gave Pearl a hug. ‘You’re right. Thanks for all you’re doing, Auntie Pearl. I don’t know what we’d do without you.’ They looked at each other tearfully. ‘I just can’t imagine that my mam could’ve been any better to us than you have.’
‘Get away!’ Pearl protested.
‘It’s true,’ Jo insisted. ‘You’re more than a mam − you’re a best friend an’ all.’ This made her aunt cry.
‘Off you go, before Eamonn Andrews walks in and tells me “This is your life!”’
So she took Pearl’s advice and went back to Alan. The first few days were a relief. Alan showed his pleasure in having her back by spoiling her, cooking her special meals and taking her on long walks when she did not feel like facing anybody.
‘I really am sorry about your brother,’ he told her. ‘I know Colin and I didn’t have a lot in common, but I hate to see you so sad. It’s such a bloody stupid waste of life!’ he railed. ‘Thatcher’s great military extravaganza is just to save her own political neck. It’s worked, of course. She thinks she’s a reincarnation of Churchill. God, they’ll elect her for evermore.’
Jo agreed, but she did not want to hear it. Her heart was sore at the thought that the lives of Colin and Skippy might have been squandered in some reckless escapade for mere political ambition. And there was Mark, who would carry the scars for ever. What would he be like? Jo wondered anxiously.
‘You won’t go saying things like that to me dad, will you?’ Jo pleaded. ‘All he’s got left is the belief that Colin died doing his duty.’
Alan scrutinised her. ‘And what do you think?’
‘I don’t know any more,’ she said in distress. ‘Only that I’m never going to see him again.’
In early July, when Jo was visiting her father, Brenda came to see her. It was two days before she was due to drive south to Brize Norton with the Duggans to meet Mark.
‘Will you come out for a drink?’ she asked. ‘Please.’ Jo agreed reluctantly, for she had lost the appetite to socialise, but it soon became clear that Brenda was deeply troubled.
‘You must be dead excited,’ Jo encouraged. Brenda gave her a nervous look. ‘Tell me what’s wrong,’ Jo said gently.
‘It’s about Mark coming home,’ she finally admitted. ‘I’m scared.’
Jo looked at her in surprise. ‘Why? Is it because of his family?’
Brenda shook her head. ‘No, nothing like that.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It’s the thought of what he’s going to be like. I mean, how bad is he? What if he looks a real sight? I know it sounds terrible to worry about things like that when I’m getting him back alive. But I’m a coward when it comes to burns and that.’
Jo understood. She was sure they were all wondering what
state Mark would be in but no one dared say it. ‘The worst bit’s waiting,’ Jo said. ‘It’ll not be so bad once you’re with him. And his letter said he was on the mend, didn’t it?’
‘Aye, but he might have been trying to stop me worrying,’ Brenda answered.
‘Then that’s what you should do,’ Jo said. ‘Be strong for each other.’
Brenda sighed. ‘I just want to get the waiting over with. Get this whole thing behind us and have a normal life again.’
Jo forced a smile of encouragement, but wondered if that was possible. How could anything ever be normal again without Colin or Skippy there? she thought bitterly.
A couple of days later, when Jo was thinking about Mark’s arrival back in the country, Pearl rang her to say the celebrations were being postponed. He had arrived in Brize Norton only to be sent immediately to the army hospital at Woolwich.
‘Brenda hardly got to see him,’ her aunt said. ‘He was off in a helicopter and the Duggans just had to come home. Brenda’s going to travel down to Woolwich at the weekend with her mother.’
‘What treatment’s he having?’ Jo asked in concern.
‘Skin graft on one of his hands for the burns,’ Pearl said, and Jo felt her stomach clench. ‘Brenda’s in a bit of a state about it all.’
‘Can’t blame her,’ Jo answered. ‘But how’s Mark bearing up?’
‘She said he was making jokes about it,’ Pearl said. ‘After he got over the shock of seeing his parents there waiting for him.’
‘I bet,’ Jo murmured. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘Not really,’ Pearl said. ‘Just wait like the rest of us.’
Jo went to see Ivy, knowing how Mark’s grandmother would be fretting over his delayed return. ‘Maybe we could arrange for you to speak to him on the telephone,’ Jo suggested. But Ivy was nervous at the idea.
‘I don’t like talking to someone I can’t see,’ she complained. ‘I just want to give the lad a big hug.’
It was not until the end of the month that Brenda got word that Mark was to be allowed home and referred to a local hospital. She went south to fetch him.
THE TYNESIDE SAGAS: Box set of three dramatic and emotional stories: A Handful of Stars, Chasing the Dream and For Love & Glory Page 108