by Carol Rivers
She nodded slowly. ‘I have all the faith that’s needed.’
‘So you’re up for it?’ he asked uncertainly.
‘Of course I am. It must be safer than being on the guns.’
For a moment he looked away, but soon he was telling her what might be involved. ‘The story goes that our British boffins have broken the German naval code. For a while our Atlantic convoys have been getting through, a few losses but not as many as there were. Then in February, something must have happened. Ships started sinking again. So the code breakers went back to the drawing board. Meanwhile, we’re relying on flag signals or wireless telegraphy. And that’s where I come in.’
‘Do you have a choice in this, Andy?’
‘Because of my previous experience I’ve been asked to volunteer.’
Molly was silent as her ribs seemed to squeeze painfully together. Ted was a volunteer and now Andy was.
‘I’ll be on destroyers.’ He paused, letting this sink in. ‘If you was against it, I’d turn them down. This is all about us now, not just me.’
Molly’s thoughts were in a whirl. History was repeating itself. Her fear was that the same thing might happen to Andy as it did to Ted.
‘The decision’s not mine to make,’ she answered, recalling her conversation with Jean on the bus. And although it wasn’t easy, she nodded. ‘If it’s what you want I won’t stop you. There are no guarantees to anything in life, Andy. I’ve learned that.’
‘I can guarantee you one thing,’ he told her, a little choke in his voice. ‘Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, and as long as I draw breath, you’ll be in my heart. I love you, Molly Swift. One day, when all this is over, I’ll marry you.’
He kissed her with a fierce hunger that she knew matched hers in every way, no matter what problems were posed in the future. Then, raising his eyebrows, he whispered, ‘Will you wait for me?’
Molly smiled, her brown eyes full of love. ‘I’ll wait, you know that. And I’ll take good care of Mark and Evie. Wherever you are, our thoughts will be with you.’
His eyes closed in momentary relief but as he was about to kiss her again, a noise disturbed them.
‘I’s ’ungry,’ said a small voice and they broke apart, turning to stare at Evie’s tiny figure standing in the doorway. Her nightie billowed out as she hugged her raffia horse and padded barefoot across the room to her father’s lap.
Andy kissed the wheat-coloured curls framing his daughter’s innocent face and soon there were some very wide yawns, until Evie held out her arms to Molly.
‘Hello, Curly Top, are you still awake?’ she said as Evie nestled against her chest.
‘I’s ’ungry,’ Evie mumbled again, promptly falling asleep. With the warmth of Evie’s body against her, Molly looked silently into Andy’s eyes.
No other words were needed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
With so very little time until Christmas, and wanting to spend every free moment with Andy, Molly decided to postpone her visit to Sidcup. Concerning her, too, was little Harry, who although he was now breastfeeding, was still too small to leave hospital.
Cissy had no choice but to be with him and so Spot told Molly he would prepare the Narrow Street rooms ready for when Cissy and Harry were discharged.
Andy looked every morning for the all-important letter of approval to the Signals Corps training camp. He and Molly had very little time alone together as the children’s school holiday had begun and Mark and Evie loved having their dad home.
There was no end of bus rides and long walks, and a day out to the Tower of London. Meanwhile, Molly asked Liz to work in the shop on the days she spent with Cissy at the hospital.
And so it was on a chill winter’s Friday close to Christmas that Molly arrived with news that was to surprise even Cissy.
‘A telegram came this morning,’ Molly told her friend as they sat in the hospital canteen. ‘Andy has to report to Glenholt on Sunday 20th.’
‘But that’s the day after tomorrow,’ gasped Cissy. ‘He won’t be home for Christmas!’
‘No, seems he won’t.’ Molly could barely raise a smile as she tried to hide her disappointment. She had thought that, as he hadn’t been notified this late in the year, it would be January before a letter came.
‘Will you be going to your sister’s instead?’
‘Too late now,’ said Molly. ‘She’ll have her Christmas all arranged.’
‘What about your dad?’
‘I wrote and asked him if he’d like to come and stay like last year. But he said he felt he had to be with George and Elizabeth this time.’
‘They’ve got him all year round.’
‘Yes, but they are his grandchildren.’
Cissy stuck out her chin. ‘Well, you’ve got kids an’ all.’
‘Yes, but they ain’t mine.’
‘You and the kids can come and keep me company, in that case,’ Cissy grinned. ‘Not that spending your Christmas in hospital will be very much fun. But we can have a few laughs.’ Her grey eyes looked bruised with purple shadows, after days and nights of worry and upset over Harry. Although she was allowed to wear her ordinary clothes now, Cissy still complained of the cap and gown she was made to wear when she fed her baby.
‘But will Mark and Evie be able to come?’ Molly asked doubtfully.
‘I’ll fix it up with the canteen manageress. I’ve got to know her quite well. Spot will bung the staff a few quid and we can all enjoy our Christmas dinner in here.’
Molly looked round at the rows of square tables where the nurses, porters and hospital workers gathered, hugging their mugs of tea. It wasn’t an unpleasant atmosphere; cooking smells laced with a faint aroma of disinfectant. But the noise of the big, shiny, bubbling urns of tea was somehow comforting and reminded her of home.
‘Sorry it’s not much of an offer,’ said Cissy, giving her old, edgy expression.
‘We’d like to, thanks,’ Molly said quickly. She didn’t want to upset Cissy, as she was only just now on the brink of returning to her old self again with the thought that in the new year she might be discharged with Harry.
But it wasn’t how Molly had hoped Christmas might be. She’d planned to cook a chicken or even a rabbit if she could find a decent one at the butcher’s. Jean and Dennis had invited them for Christmas Eve and afterwards she and Andy would come home to hang the children’s stockings from the mantel. She’d dreamed of how, later into the night, when she and Andy were together, they would make love with all the desire and fervour that they tried to hide from the children.
Cissy’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘Where’s this place your Andy’s going to?’
‘Somewhere near Plymouth, I think.’
‘So he’ll have to catch the early train?’
Molly sighed. ‘I s’pose so.’
‘Bloody war,’ Cissy growled and gulped her tea. ‘Do the kids ever talk about Betty and Len?’
‘Not much. Mark went through that troubling time, thinking everyone he loved got killed. Sometimes he says he still has bad dreams about being taken away.’
‘Poor little bugger.’
‘I think it has to do with being trapped on that coach.’
‘Well, all I can say is they’re lucky you got to them in time. What you read about in the papers and evacuee kids going missing is enough to turn you grey.’
Molly quickly finished her tea. She didn’t want to think of what might have happened if she’d been just a few minutes later in trying to stop that coach. ‘I’ve got to get back for Liz. She’s leaving the shop early to go to her aunt’s at West Ham. What can we bring on Christmas Day?’
Cissy rolled her eyes, and with a straight face, pretended to consider the offer. ‘A packet of fags would be nice, and a drop of the other. Do you think you could smuggle ’em in until I get home and can really let me hair down?’
Molly stared at her. ‘You told me you’d given up for the baby’s sake.’
Cissy began to laugh.
‘You should see your face. I’m only kidding.’
Molly sighed in relief, glad that Cissy was teasing. The nurse had warned her friend that alcohol in large quantities might affect her breast milk.
Molly stood up, unable to resist a smile. The new leaf Cissy had turned over was a precarious one. Old habits died hard. She didn’t want to encourage Cissy in any way. She was so very close to leaving the hospital with Harry after being cooped up here for what seemed like an eternity.
On Sunday morning, in the very early hours, Andy was ready to leave. He’d shaved and washed in the kitchen and put on the only service gear he had: his navy-blue roll-neck jumper and canvas trousers, with his old duffel packed along with a bite to eat wrapped in newspaper.
He and Molly had hardly slept a wink. If he wedged a rug under the bedroom door, they were alerted to Evie’s nocturnal visits, increasingly frequent since he’d been home. She liked to climb into bed with them for a cuddle, which seemed quite natural to her.
When it was time, he took Molly in his arms and held her close. ‘We won’t wake the kids. I said all my goodbyes last night. I’ll write soon, but don’t forget my letters will be censored.’
‘Will you be able to write how long your training will last?’
‘Don’t see why not.’ He hugged her again. ‘You can’t imagine how much I’ll miss you.’
He felt a physical ache; being parted from Molly and the kids was unbearable. He wanted to be with them. Now he had found the girl of his dreams, his life at sea would be very different from before. ‘I’ll have my money sent through to you. Don’t know how long before you’ll get it though. Will you be able to manage?’
Molly placed her hands on his shoulders. ‘Listen, Andrew Miller, the shop will provide, so don’t go worrying on that score. Just look after yourself. That’s the most important thing.’
‘I’ll make it all up to you after the war, and that’s a promise.’
‘Do you think there will be an after?’
‘Course I do,’ he said in surprise. ‘The whole world wants an after. It ain’t just us, the Allies, but ordinary people everywhere who have got swept up in this thing we call war.’
‘Why don’t our governments put a stop to it, then?’
He took her hands between his and sighed heavily. ‘Big characters, egos, money, territory – greed and pride. That’s how it starts. And it takes a war to end it. But it’s a sobering sight when you see the reality: poor buggers just like me in the freezing water, screaming out for help. Whoever they are, they’re trying to stay alive to get back to their loved ones. Just as I’ll be doing.’
They were both shivering in the frosty December morning and he blew lightly on her fingers to warm them. She stared into his eyes and for the umpteenth time he thought how beautiful she was. Her pale skin was almost transparent in the gloomy morning light and it reminded him of fine bone china as he lifted a finger and trailed it over her cheek. ‘I love you so much, Molly.’
‘I love you too,’ she whispered.
Their kiss sent the blood draining from his legs for the desire of her. To think that one day she would be his wife was almost unbelievable. And it was this that would keep him going in the days and months ahead.
‘Your train won’t wait,’ she said and he nodded, yet still they couldn’t tear themselves apart. Just one more kiss, he thought, and then drawing on all his reserves he hugged her so tightly that he felt her bones would crack if he squeezed any harder.
Then before they could say or do more, he found the strength to pull the door open and step out into cold, crisp air that instantly sobered him up. One brief glance over his shoulder told him she was watching and that felt good, even though it was the hardest thing he had ever done. It wasn’t in him to walk away from the loves of his life and the future they had just talked about. But neither was it in any man, not if peace reigned in this world instead of conflict.
It was Christmas Day and, true to her word, Cissy arranged dinner at the hospital. Molly wore a smart black astrakhan coat, freshly out of mothballs for the occasion. With her auburn hair pinned up elegantly at the back of her head, she made her way along the draughty corridors of the hospital, proud of Evie and Mark as they walked beside her. Evie’s hair shone like spun gold and Mark’s was combed flat with a neat parting. They were both well shod and wore their Sunday-best clothes. Molly thought of their father and knew he would be proud of them too. She hoped he had settled into camp life and that he was enjoying Christmas, despite being away from them.
The children missed him terribly but had enjoyed last night at the Turners’. Molly smiled as she thought of the games they’d played until quite late: blind man’s buff, find the sixpence and charades.
Dennis had seen them home safely, and by the time the kids woke this morning she’d hung their stockings from the mantelpiece. They were just old woollen socks, but inside she had squeezed toffee apples, oranges, and some nougat that Andy had bought and broken up with a hammer. There was also a comic for Mark and a tiny red velvet purse with a strap for Evie.
As soon as they walked through the big doors into the canteen, the smell of cooking made Molly’s mouth water. She knew they were very lucky to be able to spend the day in such a festive atmosphere with an abundance of free food. All the nurses and staff on duty wore paper hats and had been forewarned that guests would be arriving this year.
As Spot made his way through the busy diners to greet them, there were smiles and waves from the assembled hospital staff. Spot opened his arms and lifted Evie up high, making her giggle. He did the same to Mark, who after his first embarrassment at so many people patting him on the head, began to lose his shyness.
‘Over here,’ Spot said, escorting them to a long table which was actually two benches pushed together and covered with a hospital cloth. ‘Cissy’s just giving the baby a feed. She’ll be along soon. Now, you sit here at the top, Mark, next to me. We’ll put the women down the other end so they can have a jaw.’ It was so noisy in the echoey canteen that Spot was having to shout.
They took their places and Evie clapped her hands in delight at the prospect of food. Large knives, forks and spoons were set out before them. There were little sprigs of holly that Spot had brought to decorate the table, and a candle in the middle.
When Cissy appeared a few minutes later, there was loud applause from all the other tables. Molly knew that Cissy was a very popular character at the hospital. Everyone admired how hard she had fought for little Harry’s life.
‘Happy Christmas, Molly.’ Cissy threw her arms around her, then embraced the children. ‘Thanks for coming.’
Molly watched as Spot brought the plates over from the table on which they were piled. The hot food was ready to be served and Molly’s mouth watered even more at the thought of the roast chicken that was such a delicacy throughout the war years. She only hoped Andy was faring as well.
Very soon their plates were filled with generous portions of meat covered in thick brown gravy, accompanied by huge roast potatoes, batter pudding and carrots.
‘I’m ’ungry!’ Evie yelled, and was the first to shovel a huge forkful into her mouth.
As the meal was eaten they were served with lemonades, as no alcohol was allowed in the hospital.
When the Christmas dinner was over, Mark and Evie, wearing their paper hats, ran round all the tables. They were the centre of everyone’s attention and loved it. When all the merrymaking was over, Spot stood up and cleared his throat. He began to sing ‘Silent Night’ in his deep, rich voice. Everyone joined in. Afterwards there was a deep hush, for they were all thinking of their families, friends and loved ones.
Molly thought it was a perfect end to Christmas Day. The words of the carol were full of peace and goodwill, and told of a time that everyone longed to return to.
Chapter Twenty-Four
In Molly’s household 1943 arrived quietly and the children went back to school in the first week. A light sprinkling of snow fell later in th
e month, the very same day that Andy’s letter arrived. She was so excited at the prospect of opening it, she kept it in her overall pocket until after the first flurry of customers had left.
Unlike all his letters at sea, this one gave her more information. She guessed he was stationed near Plymouth still as he said nothing to the contrary. ‘The course is divided into three parts,’ he wrote. ‘Eleven weeks to begin with and then our first exam. If I pass, I’ll go on to the next part. In all, I’ll have made twenty weeks and should be guaranteed a long leave, once I’ve done my finals in May.’
Molly was both delighted and anxious. How hard were these exams to pass? Andy went on to talk about the men he shared his hut with. He liked them all and had made friends. He asked about the children and home, and this time, he ended the letter with ‘Love from Andy. XX’.
It was an improvement, she decided, on those impersonal letters he’d written last year. But she knew she had to accept that he wasn’t a man to wear his heart on his sleeve. Perhaps he was worried about the censors, or still unsure of her feelings? Or maybe he’d written to Stella over the years and never received a response.
Molly decided to write back immediately. She told him she couldn’t wait to see him as soon as his training was over. He would be home in May, which seemed an awfully long time to wait. But at least she had a date. May was a beautiful month: springtime.
She folded the letter and put it in her pocket. Tomorrow, when Liz came in, she would go to see Cissy and tell her the good news.
The following day, as the feathery coating of snowy flakes turned a mucky brown in the gutters, she walked to school with Jean and the children.
‘So he’ll be home in May?’ Jean asked as Molly explained. ‘Have you told the kids?’
‘No. I’ll leave it until I know he’s passed his exams.’
‘What’s he going to do then?’
Molly shrugged as they stood at the gates of the school, a flat-roofed building with a tiny annexe for the teachers. ‘That’s the bit I don’t like.’