Daughters of Courage

by Margaret Dickinson

  Hartley was staring up at him and his next words came out in a strangled whisper. He cleared his throat and repeated his question. ‘Who is this Lizzie exactly?’

  ‘Lizzie Nicholson. She’s been friends with my Aunt Emily for years.’

  ‘Is she – married?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And – where is her husband?’

  ‘He’s in the army, sir.’

  There was a long silence whilst Hartley shuffled his papers. Then he cleared his throat again and said, ‘It’s not really policy to allow you to go home for the illness or – or injury – of a friend. However, if it had been a member of your family, that would have been different – even if it had been your Aunt Emily – we would have considered it, but I’m afraid it’s out of the question.’ As if relenting a little and making a generous gesture, the flight lieutenant motioned towards the telephone on his desk. ‘But I could allow you to telephone home and make enquiries, if you like.’

  ‘That’s very good of you, sir. I would like to. I can phone my uncle at his works. He’ll likely have the latest news.’

  ‘If you know the number, then help yourself.’

  Harry hesitated a moment as the man made no move to leave him alone in the office to make his private call, but then he moved forward and picked up the receiver.

  Fifty-Five

  ‘Do you think Lizzie would benefit from a week or so at Riversdale?’ Constance asked Emily. ‘Lucy would look after her.’

  ‘I’m not sure it would be a very good idea, Mother.’ From the time of their marriage Emily had called Trip’s mother ‘Mother’.

  Constance had been the one to suggest it, saying, ‘Mother-in-law is a bit of a mouthful. You call your own mother “Mam”, don’t you? Why don’t you call me “Mother”?’

  ‘I’d worry about her seeing all the injured soldiers. It might make things worse for her, not better. But if she fancied a little holiday,’ Emily went on, ‘I’m sure she could stay with my parents.’

  ‘Have they room? With the boys there, I thought their house would be bursting at the seams. Besides, I don’t want to put any more work on your mother’s shoulders. She’s still cooking at Riversdale. By the way, how are the boys? Are they well settled there? They always seem in high spirits whenever I see them on my visits.’

  Emily laughed. ‘They’re fine. Loving the freedom of the countryside. We go to see them as often as petrol will allow and we write every week. And we take Nell with us too.’ Now Emily sighed as her thoughts returned to the thorny problem of how best to help Lizzie. ‘If she wants to go, I’m sure we could find somewhere in the village.’

  But when Emily broached the subject, Lizzie was adamant. ‘No, I’m not going anywhere, ’specially to a lot of strangers. They’ll not be used to seeing injured folk.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong. The soldiers convalescing at Riversdale mingle freely with the villagers – those that are mobile, that is. And even the ones who can’t get about are visited by the locals.’

  ‘Very magnanimous of them, I’m sure.’

  Emily shook her head and gave up – for the moment.

  ‘I just don’t know what to do next,’ Emily confided in Ruth when she visited the shop one morning.

  ‘I’ve been thinking.’ Ruth, too, had heard the whispers about her wayward daughter-in-law but had said nothing to her son. She had guessed, from something he’d said when he was home on compassionate leave, that he’d an inkling about what had been going on in his absence but had decided to ignore it. Ruth could do no less. ‘She could help out here in the back of the shop, if she really doesn’t feel able to face people yet. Some of the cutlery we’re getting now – and it’s no one’s fault because there is a war on –’ She paused and the two women exchanged a smile. It was a favourite remark when someone was trying to make an excuse for something. Ruth went on. ‘It isn’t quite up to the standard we’d like. Now, I know Lizzie can’t use a buffing wheel because of her wounds, but she could inspect everything that comes in and return it for further work if it is really unsaleable.’

  ‘But you do that already, don’t you?’ Emily asked.

  ‘Of course, but I have so much to do. There’s all the paperwork, though I don’t think Lizzie likes that, does she?’

  ‘She always refused to get involved with it and during the time she was trying to run the business on her own – when we fell out that time –’

  Ruth nodded. She remembered it well.

  ‘– she didn’t do very well with the paperwork and they lost custom,’ Emily went on. ‘That was really why they had to close.’

  Ruth was thoughtful for a moment before saying, ‘If she was prepared to work in the evenings, she could help with the displays after the shop was shut.’

  Emily’s face brightened. ‘Now that is a good idea. Have I your permission to say that you really could do with the help? She won’t like it if we’re creating a job for her just because we’re sorry for her.’

  ‘You most certainly can say that, Emily, because it happens to be the truth.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, Emily,’ Lizzie said, but Bess, standing beside her, said. ‘It’s perfect, Lizzie. Do give it a try, luv.’

  ‘But I’ll have to go out to get there. I’ll have to pass people in the street.’

  ‘To start with – but not for ever – I’ll take you and fetch you home in the car,’ Emily said. ‘You’re not the only one, Lizzie, to have been injured. You could have been killed.’

  ‘Perhaps it would have been better if I had been.’

  ‘Now, I don’t want to hear talk like that. Billy loves you and your mother loves you and needs you.’ Her tone softened as she added, ‘Her son is lost to her, Lizzie, don’t forget that. You’re all she has now.’

  ‘If only I’d had children, Emily, it would have been different. I wouldn’t have been tempted to stray if I’d had little ones.’

  Emily forbore to say that even if Lizzie had had children, they would probably have been evacuated anyway. They wouldn’t have still been in Sheffield. But instead she said firmly, ‘We’re not going to talk about that any more, Lizzie. You made a mistake, but it’s over. Now, you must rebuild your life, starting today. Come on, get dressed. I’m taking you to the shop.’

  ‘Oh Emily, I—’

  Emily stood over her, her arms folded. ‘It’s no good you arguing because I’m going to stay here until you get dressed and then we’re going. So, come on, look lively.’

  Half an hour later, Lizzie stepped into the shop. She had put on a broad-brimmed hat with a black veil. It was one her mother always used for funerals.

  ‘Hello, Lizzie,’ Ruth greeted her. ‘Come through, luv. I’ve got a lot of work waiting for you.’

  Once in the back of the shop, Lizzie removed her hat. She was now only with people who’d already seen her.

  ‘There’s this delivery of cutlery needs inspecting. I haven’t had time to do it. I know you don’t like paperwork, Lizzie, so I won’t ask you to do that, but there is one thing you can do to save me a bit of time. You can open the mail each day and sort it into piles. Invoices, payments and miscellaneous. Then you can keep me supplied with cups of tea through the day . . .’

  On and on the list went and Emily smiled inwardly. All the tasks which Ruth was giving Lizzie were genuine and the young woman couldn’t possibly believe that Ruth and Emily were creating work for her.

  ‘And,’ Ruth finished, ‘if you could keep this back office a lot tidier than it is now, that’d be a godsend. Are you up for doing a bit of filing?’ Without waiting for Lizzie’s agreement, Ruth went on, ‘I’ve devised a system, which I’ll show you, but keeping it up to date is a nightmare.’

  For the first time since the accident, Lizzie smiled. ‘I can see you do need a bit of help, so, yes, I think this is something I can do. Thanks . . .’ Her glance included them both. She sat down at the table and pulled the box of cutlery towards her. ‘Some of these look a bit of a mess. It’s a p
ity I can’t use a wheel, I’d have these looking good in a jiffy.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Emily said. ‘What time shall I pick you up tonight?’

  ‘It’s all right, Emily. I won’t trouble you. As long as I’ve got my hat and veil, I’ll walk home.’

  ‘My,’ Emily whispered as they returned to the front of the shop. ‘I didn’t expect an improvement quite so quickly. Thank you, Ruth.’

  ‘I really do need her help – as no doubt you can see.’

  Lizzie settled in well, but she would only scurry between the shop and her home. She adamantly refused to go elsewhere in the city and a trip to the cinema or the theatre was out of the question.

  ‘My next project,’ Emily told Bess when they were alone, ‘is to get her to go to Ashford for a little holiday.’

  ‘Right, old boy,’ Barney said cheerfully. ‘It’s foggy today, so we’ve orders to go on a “rhubarb”.’

  Harry grinned and threw down the magazine he’d been reading. ‘I’m with you.’

  The two fighters took off through the mist and climbed until they were above the clouds. Once over the Channel they flew down, searching through the mist for a likely target.

  ‘There! See it. A railway.’

  They flew lower, firing at the line and leaving it damaged enough to disrupt the enemy transport for a few days whilst repairs were done.

  ‘Same again tomorrow?’ Barney asked as they climbed out of their aircraft back at base. ‘The weather forecast says it’s going to be like this for several days.’

  ‘You’re on.’ Harry grinned. He enjoyed these little skirmishes with just him and Barney alone against the enemy and, because they were carrying out surprise attacks, they had very little trouble from enemy aircraft or from flak. They’d come and gone before the enemy had time to realize they were there.

  Harry was on his way home after another rhubarb run, but not with Barney this time. Another pilot from his flight was beside him. They’d attacked a fuel dump and left it on fire, the flames leaping into the sky. Then they’d turned for home. Just a few more miles and he’d be over the enemy coast, Harry mused. Sleep and a seventy-two-hour pass awaited him. Though he wouldn’t be surprised if the latter was cancelled at the last minute. He’d become suspicious that Flight Lieutenant Hartley was putting a stop on his leave requests. He hadn’t been home since he’d heard about Lizzie’s accident, though, strangely, Hartley had enquired after her health and had even wanted to know the details.

  ‘It seems there was a nasty accident where she was working – an explosion of some sort,’ Harry had told him.

  ‘Where did she work?’

  ‘I don’t know. She used to be a buffer girl and worked for my aunt, but I don’t think there’s anything that could have burned her in that job. Maybe she was doing war work. I don’t think it happened in Sheffield. Now, if it had been when the bombing happened, I could have understood it, but they all escaped that, thank goodness.’

  ‘They were lucky, then,’ the flight lieutenant had said, but there was a tightness about his mouth and, somehow, his words didn’t sound genuine.

  But Harry had ceased to worry about Flight Lieutenant Hartley. All the chaps agreed that he was ‘a strange bloke’. He was something of a mystery. All they knew was that he’d been in the RAF for some years before the war had started and no one knew much about his personal life or his background.

  ‘I don’t think the chap’s got one,’ Barney had joked.

  ‘He goes up to London regularly when he’s on leave,’ one of the others had said.

  ‘And I wonder what he finds to do there?’ Barney had remarked sarcastically and the others had laughed.

  Harry was thinking about the flight lieutenant as he flew home. Perhaps he could be a little crafty and say he wanted to find out more about Lizzie. He could say he wanted to go and see her. Then he’d be able to find out what happened. He felt his aircraft jolt and out of nowhere there was an Me 109 on his tail. There was a rattle all down the side of his plane and the engine began to make a strange noise. The aircraft was losing height rapidly . . . down and down it plunged as Harry fought to check his parachute, open the aircraft’s canopy and throw himself out into the sky . . .

  ‘Hello, love?’ Josh greeted Amy. ‘What are you doing here? You’re not due until six this evening, are you?’ He stood up and came around the desk in the little room that was used as an office. It was from there that Josh ran Riversdale and where Constance still came to do all the necessary paperwork that Josh couldn’t handle.

  And then he noticed his wife’s white face and her quivering mouth. His glance dropped to the envelope she was carrying in her hand. At least, he thought briefly, it wasn’t a yellow telegram, but her face indicated that whatever it was certainly did not hold good news. He put his arms around her and drew her close. ‘What is it, Amy?’

  Her words were punctured by sobs. ‘It’s Harry. It’s a personal letter from his commanding officer. He’s been posted – missing –’ her voice dropped to a strangled whisper – ‘believed killed.’

  Josh’s arms tightened around her and he groaned. ‘Oh no! No!’

  They stood like that for a long time, unwilling to leave the safety of the little room, unable, for the moment, to impart the dreadful news to others. At last, they drew slowly apart, as if letting go of one another made it all the harder. ‘How – how are we going to tell everyone?’ she whispered. ‘Your parents, my dad – Lucy?’

  ‘And everyone in Sheffield. I’ll have to go there in person. I must tell Emily face to face. She adores her nephew.’ He was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I’ll come home with you now and we’ll tell the family, then I’ll come back here and break the news to Lucy.’

  ‘Mrs Bayes is due to come today, isn’t she? Maybe she’d take you back with her. You – you could stay a night, if you wanted.’ Amy was making a brave gesture, but Josh could tell from the hesitancy in her voice that she didn’t want him to stay away from her. She needed his strength by her side to face this terrible news.

  ‘I’ll try to get back if I can,’ was all he could promise her. He didn’t want to put on Constance, though he was sure she would do the double journey in a day, if necessary. He was confident she would bring him whenever he asked her.

  Amy took a deep breath. ‘No, no, stay a night with Emily. I’ll be all right.’

  They walked down the road towards their home. Their feet felt like lead and they clung to each other’s hands.

  They told Amy’s father first. He said nothing, just stared at them for a long moment, the colour draining from his face. Then turned away and went into the smithy. Though the workshop was hardly used now, it remained the place that Bob liked to be. He still did a few small jobs now and again. ‘Just to keep my hand in,’ he would tell them. Moments later, they heard his hammer striking the anvil.

  Josh sighed. ‘Now, we’d better go and tell my mam and dad.’

  Martha shrieked, sank into a chair and covered her face with her apron and Walter began to shake, just as he had when he’d first come back from the Great War. He’d been better since their return from Sheffield, but now it looked as if all the horrors of his war had come flooding back.

  ‘Do you think we should call the doctor?’ Amy whispered, her anxious glance going from Martha, rocking and moaning in her chair, to Walter and his shaking hands.

  ‘Might be an idea,’ Josh said grimly. ‘It’s the shock. I ought to stay here.’

  ‘No, no, you go back. I’ll pack an overnight bag for you and bring it up later. You must go and see Emily.’

  Though her heart felt as if it was breaking, Amy had a quiet inner strength that always came to the fore in times of trouble. She didn’t want Josh to leave her, but she knew he had to go. ‘I’ll look after my dad and your parents.’ She gave him a gentle push towards the door. ‘Go on, before I change my mind. And – and you must tell Lucy. I’ll break the news to Lewis and Simon when they come home.’

  Josh wa
lked slowly back to Riversdale. He didn’t know which he was dreading the most, telling his sister or Lucy. He was sure that Lucy and Harry had fallen in love. Seeing them together on Harry’s last leave, he had seen the light of love in their eyes when they’d looked at each other and, walking home late on that last night, he had seem them standing close together on Sheep Wash Bridge.

  When Josh arrived back at Riversdale, he went in search of Lucy to find that, as usual, she was bustling about as busy as ever. ‘Mr Ryan, there you are. We have three new patients arriving this afternoon, but two of our patients are going home today. Isn’t that wonderful? I know you like to say goodbye to them, so—’

  ‘Lucy, could I have a word in private?’

  She blinked and, catching the seriousness of his tone, she nodded and followed him to his office.

  ‘Sit down, love,’ Josh said and then he knelt down in front of her and took her hands. ‘It’s Harry,’ he said, coming straight to the point. ‘We’ve received a letter from his commanding officer saying that he has been posted missing, believed – believed killed.’

  Tears sprang into her eyes and she gripped his hands tightly, clinging to them for a moment. She closed her eyes for several moments, her face briefly contorted with grief but then she took a deep breath to steady herself, opened her eyes and nodded.

  Shakily, she said, ‘Thank you for telling me.’ She stood up suddenly, almost causing Josh to overbalance. Then she held out her hand to help him up. ‘I must get on. Work is the best thing, you know. Keeping busy. At least –’ her voice shook a little – ‘I can carry on helping those who have come back. I can do it for Harry.’

  ‘Of course. You’re right. We’re not the only ones to receive such news but . . .’

  ‘It doesn’t make it any easier, does it?’ she said softly as she turned towards the door and left the room, leaving Josh staring after her. What a brave girl, he was thinking, and now he must go and tell another courageous woman the same dreadful news.

  If ever, he thought, anyone deserved the title of Daughter of Courage, then it was his sister Emily. And it seemed to him now that perhaps Lucy was out of the same mould.