Yours: An Emotional and Gripping WWII Family Saga (The Promises Between Us Trilogy Book 1)

by Angela Christina Archer

  “Are we moving?” a young mother asked behind me.

  Several of the other women echoed her question, while a few others started answering with nods. The collective bunch of them all gasped and clutched their chests and necks, excited that the boat, after hours of stillness, finally trudged along and the hull sliced through the harbors’ shallow waves.

  “I can’t believe we’re moving,” another woman gushed.

  “It’s about time,” Mrs. Pembroke said, fanning her face with her hand. “I can’t wait to get off this steel trap.”

  As the boat slid up along the dock, the crew rushed about the deck, throwing ropes over the railings down to the men waiting below. Barked orders shouted back and forth, each one hitched in my breath. One step closer, just one step closer, and we would finally reach land. All the passengers began gathering their things, the rush to grab different suit cases and rucksacks left a few children crying over missing belongings and a couple of boys engaged in a deep argument and battle of tug-o-war.

  “I said it’s mine!” one shouted.

  “No, it’s mine!”

  “Boys! Boys! Cut that out this instant.” Mrs. Pembroke wiggled free from the little girl clutching her hand and rushed over to the boys, sticking her plump body between them. The boys continued to bat at each other as they leaned around her. “I mean it. Stop it.”

  “But he stole my rucksack!”

  “I did not. This one is mine.”

  “I said stop.” Mrs Pembroke wrenched the sack out of the one boy’s hand and held it high over her head as both of them jumped for it, trying to grab it. “You two, sit down.”

  “But—”

  “Sit!”

  While each boy gave one more word of protest, they obeyed the teacher, and sat down on the deck. No more verbally arguing with one another, they still both saw it fit to give each other one last shove.

  “Now, is there anything in this bag that will tell me who it belongs to?”

  “My mum stuck a picture of us in the side pocket,” one boy said.

  Mrs. Pembroke stuck her hand in both boys’ faces, silencing them from any further words before she unclasped the buckle of the sack and fished through the inside pockets. Within a few minutes, she pulled out a frame. Its black-and-white picture glinted in the sunlight.

  “See! I told you it was mine!” The second boy jumped up, grabbing the bag and the picture. “Next time, don’t steal my stuff.”

  As he stuffed the picture back inside, the first boy began wiping his eyes as though he wanted to hide his tears.

  “But then where’s my bag?” he asked. His tiny voice cracked.

  “Well, I don’t know, dear, but let’s look around. It couldn’t have gone far. This is a boat, after all, and it’s a sack. It’s not like it grew legs and walked away . . . or swam away.” With her mock, Mrs. Pembroke giggled as she placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder and motioned him to keep searching.

  By the time the boat docked and the ship’s crew lowered the plank, the passengers were ready and waiting—some more patiently than others. The men there to join the British Army disembarked first, and with one quick last wave, Harold vanished in a sea of men, trotting off with the rest of them behind a man in uniform.

  I followed Mrs. Pembroke and the children down the ramp, stepping off after last. A varied age between the ones we cared for, we lined them up youngest to oldest, making sure each one of them paid attention. Several more groups disembarked after us, and the entire crowd made their way down the dock and through the boat station. A mass exodus of people, we overwhelmed the building.

  “Ladies,” a station attendant called out. He lifted his arms in the air, waving as he called out to us a few more times. “Ladies, over here, please. May I have all the teachers and mothers come forward?”

  As the adults did as he asked, he clasped his hands behind his back. His lips twitched under his bushy mustache. The white hairs matched the snow-like strands smoothed under his attendant cap on his head.

  “Thank you. Thank you. Now, we have set up for you and the children to enjoy something to eat and drink while we get everyone passed through a medical examination.”

  “A medical examination? For what?” Mrs. Pembroke asked.

  “We just need to make sure no one is sick from the voyage.” He gave her a half smile as though he was only partly telling the truth. “Now, if you please will follow me.”

  He led all of us down to another part of the docks toward a couple of large buildings. The boards stood so high above our heads we all craned our necks to look up toward the ceiling. Smoke billowed from the different parts of the city, while the sounds of horns and whistles echoed around us, a vast difference from life on an island, surrounded by water, trees, and lush grass. The home we’d grown used to, full of plant life, now rested in nothing but brick, steel, and concrete. No trees lined the streets, no plants or flowers dwelled in the window boxes, and no grass lined the homes for children to play on. How anyone could live in such a place, I didn’t know, and the thought of having to now weighed heavy on my shoulders—a depressing thought I didn’t wish to think about. While some children spun in circles, their mouths gaped open as they took in the sights and sounds of a city, others hid behind their teachers, and a couple lifted parts of the women’s shirts to cover their eyes as if to shield themselves.

  Once inside the building, the children calmed, spreading out as they fanned around the few tables laden with trays of stacked jelly sandwiches. The piles of bread and jam were like mountains on the silver and their mere presence caused stomachs to growl and tongues to lick lips. Even my own stomach twisted with hunger as one smaller girl—Marigold Kingston—clutched my hand and jerked me toward the table.

  “Do you think it is strawberry jam or blueberry?” she asked. Her wide eyes blinking as she looked up at me. Finally off the boat, a shade of pink had returned to her cheeks instead of the awful shade of green they had been while sailing across the waves.

  “Um, I don’t know what kind it is.” I fetched a napkin from one table, and grabbed a few tiny sandwiches from another, placing them on the napkin before handing them to her. “However, I suspect you are about to find out.”

  She giggled and shoved one in her mouth. The sight of her eating sent the rest of the children over to the table and they all fetched napkins before their little fingers grabbed at as much of the food as they could.

  “Don’t worry about taking too much,” a lady said. She walked up behind me with two more trays—one in each hand—of treats. “We have plenty more where that came from. Members of a few of the local churches got together so that you would have something to eat when you got off the boat.”

  “That was kind of them,” I said.

  “It’s the least we could do. Poor things. Forced out of your homes and forced to send your children while you stay behind. I can’t imagine.” She set down the trays and clutched her chest as she shook her head. Her brows arched and her eyes misted with tears. “Well, I best be getting back to work. We also have bread with butter over on those tables and some tea if you would like some over there.” She pointed to yet another table filled with teacups flipped over on saucers and a couple of teapots. Steam rose out of the spouts. “Probably better to get some now, while it’s still hot. We have milk and sugar too, and don’t worry about your ration cards. We’ve taken care of everything.”

  Before I could utter a single word, she strode off, tugging on the ties of her apron resting on the small of her back as though they had come loose.

  I made my way over to the tea, desiring a hot cup to help warm the chill still sitting in the deepness of my bones. A warmth I could feel from the outside of the cup after I poured the tea, dropped in a lump of sugar along with some milk and held it in my hands.

  “I’m so happy to be off that bloody boat.” Mary came up beside me, pouring her own cup of tea. “I thought I would go mad waiting as long as we did.”

  “Me too. Lord, I hated leaving
Guernsey.”

  “I know how you feel. I hated leaving too. I told my parents I wanted to stay, but they didn’t want me leaving Daniel on his own.” She pointed toward her brother, who stood near the table stuffing sandwiches into his mouth. “Miss Graves, his teacher, promised she wouldn’t separate us. I hope it’s a promise she intends to keep.”

  “Why would she separate you?”

  “I don’t know. A feeling I get.”

  “No, I mean, where are we going that they would separate you?”

  She glanced over one shoulder and then the other, leaning in toward me as she dropped her voice to a whisper. “I heard they plan to assign us to different families in London and the surrounding cities. I can’t imagine these families would want to take too many of us at the same time.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “From the teachers.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I was pretending to be asleep.”

  “I can’t imagine a sister and a brother would be too much to take in, especially when you are nearly an adult.”

  “I suppose you have a point. Still, I don’t know what I’m going to do if they send him off to live with another family. I can’t imagine being apart from the only family I have here.”

  “Evelyn stayed behind in Guernsey with my parents.”

  “I assumed as much when I saw you and not her.” Mary glanced down at the cup of tea in her hand.

  “She thinks of me as a child.”

  “No. She thinks of you as a sister she means to protect. Just as I would protect Daniel.” Mary reached out, clutching my arm. A gesture meant to comfort, even if it only seemed to bring more annoyance. While I understood what she was trying to say, it didn’t mean that I enjoyed hearing it. I know they sent me away to protect me, however, it didn’t mean I wished to go.

  “Whew! I’m so glad to be rid of that boat!” Nora said, joining us. “Why do you think they kept us on there for so long?”

  “I don’t know if I even wish to know.” Mary heaved a deep sigh; a slight growl inched through her chest. “Whatever their daft reason, though, they can piss off for all I care.”

  “I talked to Harold Lingfield a little this morning before we made port,” Nora said. “Seems he’s joining the Army.”

  “Yes, he mentioned that to me yesterday.” I took another hot sip, feeling the heat flow down my throat and into my stomach. “He’s worried about Violet. I didn’t see her at the school or the docks in Guernsey. Did either of you?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “I think she stayed.” Nora poured herself a cup of tea, ignoring the cream and sugar and sipping on it straight black. The bitterness I imagined made my mouth water. “I never knew what he saw in her. She has always treated him poorly.”

  “Whereas you would have treated him like the King.” Mary laughed as she nudged Nora in the shoulder with her own.

  “Oh, shut it.”

  “Don’t tell me to shut it when you know it’s true. You can’t pretend now you don’t have feelings for him.”

  Nora’s smile faded, and her brow furrowed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. He’s going off to war, and well, I will worry about him. Joining the Army.” She arched her gaze toward the ceiling and blinked several times.

  “He’ll be all right. He’s got a good head on his shoulders. You’ll see, you both will be back in Guernsey before you know it, and maybe the time away will help him forget about your sister’s friend, Violet.”

  “Amelia? Amelia Ashton?” Mrs. Pembroke called out.

  “I’m over here.”

  She waved at me. “Come here. It’s your turn.”

  My turn for what?

  I set down the cup, giving Mary and Nora a nod before I made my way over to my teacher.

  “Did you get a sandwich, dear?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, you can grab one while you wait in line. Probably should. I don’t think you’ll have much time to eat again for a while.”

  “Where am I going?”

  “To the nurse and the doctor in the other building for your medical exam.” She pointed toward the table of food. “Grab a couple, then follow me.”

  After I fetched my lunch, she led me off toward another building. Several other children and a few of the young mothers were already waiting in line, shoving a few sandwiches in their own mouths as they studied all around them. A few jumped at the loud noises. On edge, I couldn’t help but jump myself when a loud foghorn blew from a nearby ship.

  The line moved at a snail’s pace. Made a little more comforting with the sandwiches, however, it wasn’t long before my feet ached something fierce and I wanted nothing more than to just sit down.

  “Next please,” a nurse said. She waved me forward with a pen in one hand and a clipboard in the other. “Name?”

  “Amelia Ashton.”

  “Age?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Are you from Guernsey or Jersey?”

  “Guernsey. We live just a short walk from St. Peter’s Port.”

  “And are you here with anyone else in your family?”

  “No.” I shook my head, ducking my chin. “My sister and my parents . . . they stayed behind. They might catch another boat, perhaps, if there is another one. I’m not sure.”

  She etched something on the piece of paper attached to the clipboard. “And how are you feeling after your journey?”

  “Just tired.”

  “Do you have any chills? Or are you sick to your stomach?”

  “No.”

  She fetched a thermometer from a glass jar and wiped it clean from the clear liquid clinging to it from the jar. “Open your mouth.” After jamming the stick-like tool under my tongue, she set down the clipboard, picking up a comb. “Turn.”

  “Huh?”

  She lifted her hand, sticking out her finger and making a circle motion. “Turn. And keep your mouth closed.” She dug the comb through my hair, moving the strands around as she pushed them from side to side.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Mouth closed. And I’m searching for lice.”

  “Lice?” I moved away from her, turning to face her. “I don’t have lice.”

  She cocked her head to the side as she rested one hand on her hip. “Keep your mouth closed.”

  For the rest of the three or so minutes I had to hold on to the thermometer, I stood, facing the nurse. My stance matched hers, although I dug both hands on my hips instead of just one.

  “All right. That’s long enough.” She withdrew the stick of glass, turned it over a few times, before bringing it up to her line of sight. “Your temperature is normal. Now, I need to finish your hair.”

  “I don’t have lice.”

  “All the same, I need to check you. It’s my job, and if you want to leave with the rest of the teachers and students, I suggest you obey the rules.”

  Although I desired to continue to argue, I knew to do so would not only cause a scene and create trouble but would also get me nowhere. The nurse wasn’t about to let me go without passing her inspection, and I didn’t know where they would take me if I complained further or dug my feet in harder.

  “Here. Carry this and don’t lose it.” She handed me a small card.

  “What is it?”

  “It tells people who you are, where you’re from, and that you don’t have any illness. Don’t lose it.” She placed her hand on the small of my back, shoving me forward. Before I could ask any more questions, she shouted out, “Next.”

  Hours later, I once again followed behind Mrs. Pembroke as she weaved the small group of children through the maze of the docks and out onto the city streets. Motorcars passed by as we meandered along the sidewalks. A few of them honked at us, and the children flinched. Their heads whipped back and forth from watching the passing cars to the tall buildings with laundry hanging from lines. The clothes fluttered in the breeze, half of them looked clean while the other half looked as though covered in a th
in layer of soot.

  “Stay with me, children. Don’t dillydally. You don’t want to get lost.” Mrs. Pembroke glanced over her shoulder every few minutes, pointing at the different bobbing heads as though she was counting them.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Pembroke,” I called out. “I’m keeping watch.”

  Down a few other streets we came upon a train station. More and more groups of teachers and children arrived behind us. It felt like the entire island of Guernsey had come with us—at least the entire island of people under the age of eighteen. With so many little people swarmed around me, it was hard not to get lost in a sea of little hats and pigtails of curls.

  The loud chugging of a train rolled down the tracks in the distance, and I lifted my hand to shield the sun from my eyes. Steam poured from the stacks.

  “What is that, Miss Amelia?” Marigold grabbed my hand, her fingers clutched tight.

  “It’s a monster, and it’s going to eat you,” one of the little boys said. He laughed as he raised his arms, waving them as though they were two sides of a jaw like an alligator chomping down upon its prey. Marigold screamed and spun toward me, digging her face into my skirt. She grabbed at the sides of my waist as though I was a pole, and she was trying to climb me.

  “Marigold. Marigold, stop. It is not a monster. It’s a train. Just a train.”

  Upon hearing the boy and Marigold, several of the other girls began screaming and backing away from the steamer rolling toward us. A few of the younger boys did too, only their screams were pitiful cries, as though the commotion scared them more than what they believed was the threat.

  The teachers scrambled around, trying to not only collect the children and keep them in line, but shout over the screams that everything was all right and it was just a train.

  I knelt down, wiggling from Marigold’s grasp. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Marigold, listen to me.” I locked my eyes with hers, red and puffy, I was sure I was just a mere blur to her. “Listen to me. Stop crying. It’s just a train. It’s not a monster.”