Until We Meet Again

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Yes, she’ll be devastated,’ said Faith. ‘They were so much in love. I know they were young, but it touched me so much to see them together. They won’t be the only ones that this has happened to, not that that makes it any easier. Oh! This cruel, cruel war! Whenever is it going to end?’

  Joseph regarded her sorrowfully. ‘I know… Faith,’ he said, hesitating a little at her name. ‘It’s a wicked waste. Our only son… I’ve read the casualty lists day after day and thought, Thank God he’s not among them. Somehow you don’t think it will happen to you…’ He stopped, looking at her in silence for a moment before going on to say, ‘Your Tommy? You haven’t heard anything about him?’

  ‘No…no, not a word,’ replied Faith. ‘But I can’t help wondering if they were together. Tommy and Dominic, they were inseparable, weren’t they? And I know they saw one another out there. I should imagine that where Dominic was, then Tommy would not be far behind…’ Her voice petered out as she grasped the enormity of what she was saying.

  ‘Now, Faith, don’t start jumping to conclusions,’ said Joseph Fraser gently. She was only too aware that it should be she who was consoling him. She didn’t know him well but she realised now that he was a kindly, compassionate man. ‘They – I mean the ones in charge – they may not have allowed the two of them to stick together like glue. Dominic and Tommy, they were each in charge of a platoon, weren’t they? Probably not involved in the same offensive, or whatever it was.’

  Faith nodded. ‘Maybe… We’re still waiting to hear news of Tommy. The waiting is agonising, isn’t it?’ She refrained from uttering the old cliché that no news was good news, in view of the shocking news that the Frasers had received. ‘We keep on saying our prayers, but something like this…well, it makes you wonder why we do it, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Aye, you certainly begin to wonder what it’s all about, whether God is listening,’ remarked Joseph. ‘But it’s out of His hands. Yes, I know He’s all powerful, but He’s limited His power, hasn’t He, and put men in charge of His world? And they’re making a total mess of it at the moment. No, I don’t know what it all means. I’m just hoping our faith is strong enough, Mabel’s and mine, to see us through this… Faith, you’ve got a good name, haven’t you?’ he said, smiling sadly at her. ‘And it’s all we’ve got to hang on to, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I’m afraid I don’t live up to it at times. It’s hard to keep faith with the chaos all around us… I’m sorry; I’m not being much comfort to you, am I? But there’s really nothing I can say except that we’ll be thinking about you and Mabel, all the time. I’ll make sure that Tilly knows, very soon. Perhaps William and I will go over to see her in Bradford. It would be better than writing or phoning…’

  ‘One of the worst things is that we aren’t able to say goodbye to him properly,’ said Joseph. ‘No funeral, no memorial service. A few words in church perhaps, but there’s no real conclusion to it. He’s just…gone.’

  ‘A cup of tea before you go?’ asked Faith into the silence that followed. ‘Or coffee? I usually have one about this time.’ An idiotic thing to say, she knew, but convention required it.

  ‘No…thank you,’ said Joseph, rising stiltedly from his chair. ‘I’d best be getting back to Mabel. Could I have a word with my niece, Priscilla, though, before I go? We’ve told Cedric and Maud, but Priscilla doesn’t know yet, about Dominic.’

  Priscilla had been on night duty and Faith knew that she would still be sleeping. ‘I’ll tell her,’ she said, ‘if that’s all right with you. She’s probably still asleep. I’ll send her home for the rest of the day. I know she was very fond of her cousin.’

  She rose and came from behind the desk to say goodbye to him. They shook hands formally, then, on an impulse he leant forward and kissed her cheek. ‘Goodbye, Faith. Give our love to that lass of yours. She’s a grand girl…and how I wish that things could be different for her, as well as for us.’

  ‘Goodbye, Joseph,’ said Faith, tears misting her eyes.

  As soon as she had composed herself she phoned her husband at his place of work. ‘William… something terrible has happened. It’s Dominic… he’s been killed. However are we going to tell Tilly…?’

  They caught a train to Bradford on Saturday morning. Faith had phoned Tilly to tell her that they would be coming to see her but had not told her the reason.

  ‘Oh, that’s nice,’ Tilly had said cheerily, not noticing, it seemed, the sombre tone of her mother’s voice. Faith had tried not to sound too mournful, but it had been hard, ever since she had heard the news, to inject any manner of normality, let along cheerfulness, into her words.

  ‘I’m on nights, as it happens,’ Tilly had told her. ‘I come off duty at eight o’clock, so I’ll have a sleep and see you in the middle of the afternoon. Is that all right with you? Can you find your way to the hospital?’ She gave directions to the hostel where she was living and said how much she was looking forward to seeing them. ‘Actually, I’m due for a spot of leave soon,’ she said. ‘I’ll be coming home for a short break before long, but it will be lovely to see you. Bye for now, Mother. Love to Uncle Will and to everybody…’

  ‘Goodbye, darling…’ said Faith. Her throat was choked with the sadness she was trying to keep in check. As soon as she had put down the telephone she burst into tears. ‘My poor Tilly! She sounds so normal, as though she hasn’t a care in the world. I hadn’t the heart to burst her bubble, to warn her that it isn’t just a social visit… Do you think I should have warned her, William?’

  ‘No, my dear,’ he replied. ‘It can’t do any harm to leave her in ignorance a little while longer. Perhaps, when she’s thought about it, she may well wonder why we’re going. We haven’t been to see her before, have we? She’s a sensible girl and she may well put two and two together… Come along, Faith love.’ He put his arm around her as they stood in the hallway, where she had been speaking on the phone. She clung to her husband as he told her, ‘I’ll be there with you, my dear. I’ll help you to break the news to her.’

  ‘Oh…William, you’re such a support to me.’ She leant against his shoulder feeling the strength and comfort of his arms around her. ‘All this…the nursing home and everything. I couldn’t cope with it if I didn’t have you here with me. You’re in the background a lot of the time, but I know that you’re there for me. I try to be strong, and people depend on me, but I’d be lost without you.’

  ‘I’ll always be here for you, Faith,’ he told her. ‘And Tilly knows that we’re there for her as well. We’re a strong united family, and we must do all we can to help Tilly to get through this dreadful time.’

  ‘Mother and Uncle Will are coming to see me tomorrow,’ Tilly told her friend, Sophie, as they made their way to their wards for duty on Friday evening. She had been called to the telephone an hour ago, just as she was finishing her meal. ‘I’m not sure why they’re coming…’ she added thoughtfully.

  ‘They’re probably missing you, like you’re missing them,’ said Sophie. She looked concernedly at her friend. ‘They don’t have to have a reason for coming to see you, do they?’

  ‘No, but they’ve never done so before. And Mother’s so busy in the nursing home. I wouldn’t have thought she could spare the time. I can’t help wondering if they have…something to tell me.’ Tilly had been pleased at first at the news that her parents were coming; it was only afterwards that she had started to wonder why.

  ‘Did your mother sound all right?’ asked Sophie. ‘Not upset…or anything?’

  ‘No, not as far as I could tell. She sounded quite normal to me.’

  ‘Well then…’ Sophie smiled encouragingly at her. ‘Don’t worry. It’s probably just a friendly visit.’

  ‘But I’ll be going home on leave soon,’ said Tilly. ‘I thought they would have remembered that… You know what I’m thinking, don’t you?’ she added in a frightened whisper.

  ‘Well, don’t!’ replied Sophie, putting a friendly arm around her shoulders.
‘It’s no use meeting trouble halfway, is it?’

  ‘I wish they hadn’t told me they were coming. I wish they’d just arrived, unexpectedly, then I wouldn’t be worrying and wondering…’

  ‘I’m sure there’s no need,’ said Sophie. ‘They had to let you know, didn’t they? You might have been on duty, or out of the hospital.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true.’ Tilly gave a wan smile. ‘I’ll try to put it out of my mind till tomorrow.’

  It was a busy night on Tilly’s ward, with several patients needing attention, and an emergency admittance; an elderly man who was suffering from a heart attack which, fortunately, turned out not to be fatal. Tilly was tired and to her surprise she managed to sleep for several hours.

  She could tell, though, by the guarded looks on the faces of her mother and stepfather that this was not just a casual visit. She had suspected something when Sister Agnes Berryman – one of the more humane sisters with whom she got on very well – had come to tell her that her parents had arrived and she could meet them in her, Sister Berryman’s, room where it would be more private.

  As Tilly entered the room her mother hurried towards her, smiling, but unable to disguise the sadness in her eyes. ‘Tilly, my darling…’ She put her arms around her. ‘It’s lovely to see you, but I’m afraid…’

  ‘You’ve got some bad news for me, haven’t you?’ said Tilly. ‘I guessed. I knew you wouldn’t come over just to see me for no reason.’ She looked straight into her mother’s eyes. ‘It’s Tommy, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘What’s happened to him? He’s not been…killed, has he?’

  ‘No…no, Tilly,’ her mother cried. ‘Oh, my poor love! No, it’s not Tommy. We haven’t heard anything about Tommy.’

  William came towards her. He put a loving arm around his stepdaughter. ‘No, it’s not Tommy, my dear. I’m afraid it’s Dominic—’

  ‘Dominic?’ cried Tilly. ‘No…no it can’t be! What…what have you heard?’

  Faith had sat down on a chair as though unable to cope any longer with her distress. It was William who broke the news to Tilly.

  ‘I’m so sorry, my dear,’ he began. ‘Joseph Fraser came round yesterday morning to see your mother. They had had a telegram. I’m afraid Dominic has been killed in action. I know it’s hard, Tilly; it’s dreadful, and it’s happening all the time.’

  Tilly gave a cry, a choking sob on an intake of breath. ‘Dominic… But he can’t be dead!’ she shouted, a strangled cry through a voice hoarse with emotion, and with disbelief, too. ‘I would know; I would know if Dominic were dead.’ She pushed at William, standing back from him and staring at him in incredulity. ‘I would be able to feel it…here.’ She put her hands to her chest, over the place where she imagined her heart to be. ‘We are so close…I would know if Dominic had… gone.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, dear,’ William said again. ‘But I’m afraid there can be little doubt. The telegram didn’t say he was missing; that always gives room for hope. There have been so many casualties… not that that makes it any easier.’

  Tilly wept then. Her tears flowed and she began to sob. Faith rose and put her arms around her daughter. She held her close whilst she gave way to her anger and distress. ‘I thought it was Tommy,’ she gasped between sobs. ‘I knew it was somebody close. Don’t get me wrong; I would be upset if it was Tommy; but I really thought that was what you’d come to tell me. I never thought it could be Dominic.’

  ‘We’re so sorry, darling,’ said Faith. It was a platitude but there was nothing else to say.

  ‘What about Tommy?’ asked Tilly, raising a tearstained face to her mother. Her eyes were full of anguish. ‘Have you heard…?’

  ‘No, dear. We haven’t heard anything about your brother. We’re still waiting. And there’s been no news of Samuel either.’

  ‘Samuel’s not in the same place though, is he?’ Tilly murmured. ‘Tommy and Dominic, they would be together.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Oh no, not both of them; that would be too much…’

  ‘We don’t know,’ said Faith. ‘They may not have been together.’ She recalled what Joseph Fraser had said to her. ‘It’s doubtful that they would be part of the same attack. They each had a platoon, didn’t they? As far as we know – until we hear anything different – we have to assume that Tommy’s all right.’

  Tilly nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose so… He must be, or else you would have heard, wouldn’t you?’

  Faith sighed. ‘Everyone’s waiting, dear; waiting and wishing it could soon be over.’

  Tilly glanced around bemusedly at her surroundings. ‘Sister Berryman,’ she began. ‘She said we could stay here for a while, did she? I’m on duty again tonight, then my spell of night duty ends.’

  ‘I told the sister what had happened,’ said Faith gently. ‘She’s a kind person, isn’t she?’

  Tilly nodded. ‘Yes, very… She seems to understand people’s problems.’

  ‘Yes, she does understand,’ said her mother. ‘She said you are due for leave, and she suggested that you should come home with us now. Someone will fill in for you tonight.’

  ‘But that’s not really fair,’ replied Tilly. ‘I’m not the only one that this has happened to. It’s happening all the time. Harriet – that’s one of the girls who shares a room with Sophie and me – she had news last week that her boyfriend had been killed. She’s had to carry on.’

  ‘Just accept what Sister Berryman has said, dear,’ her mother told her. ‘She praised you highly, and I should imagine she’s not always too generous with her praise, is she?’

  ‘No, that’s true,’ agreed Tilly.

  ‘She says she will recommend to Matron that you start your leave now. And I asked her about your transfer to Scarborough. You’ve mentioned it, have you?’

  ‘Sort of,’ said Tilly, but a little doubtfully. ‘Nothing definite has been decided.’

  ‘Sister said they’d be sorry to see you go, but if it is what you want then it can be arranged. Your work this last year has been highly satisfactory and you are ready to move on…if you wish.’

  ‘How do you know it’s what I want, Mother?’ cried Tilly. ‘You have no right to decide for me what I must do! It’s been your idea all along. I have never definitely agreed to it.’ The anger she was feeling was a reaction to the dreadful news she had just heard. She felt she had to strike out at someone, and there was her mother making plans for her whilst her grief was still raw. She was angry and distressed and hurting all over.

  ‘How do you know that I don’t have something else in mind?’ she stormed. ‘My friend, Sophie, she’s applied to go overseas. She’s just waiting to hear about her transfer. She wants me to go with her. And after…after all this, I’m starting to think that’s what I must do. I can’t take the easy way out…playing about in a convalescent home. That’s not proper nursing.’

  Faith realised that Tilly was distraught and not thinking rationally. She did not blame her for her outburst. The poor girl was heartbroken and, although it was totally out of character, Faith knew that she had to vent her feelings somehow and on someone. And she, Faith, just happened to be there.

  ‘I understand, my dear,’ she said. ‘I’m following all that you’re saying. And I know why. But it would be wrong for you to make such an important decision now, on the spur of the moment, while you are so upset.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking of it for a while,’ answered Tilly, a trifle shortly, which was not like her at all. ‘And now…well, maybe I can do more good over there. Where it’s all happening…where Dominic was killed…or so they say.’ She still could not believe it.

  Faith knew, for her own part, that her desire to have her daughter stay in England, preferably in Scarborough, was not an entirely unselfish wish. She had already seen all the male members of her family join up and go to fight overseas; not only her sons, Samuel and Tommy, but Maddy’s husband, Freddie, Hetty’s husband, Bertram, and now Arthur, who was married to Jessica, had gone to serve in the ambulance brigade. Surely it was not t
oo much to hope for that Tilly should remain here where her mother could care for her and offer her some comfort.

  ‘We do understand,’ said William. ‘We know how you must be feeling. But please don’t be too hasty, Tilly, my dear. Your mother and I only want what is best for you. And I care for you just as much as if you were my own daughter. I know you’re angry. We are angry too at the carnage of this war; it’s beyond all belief. But your mother is doing a wonderful job; I want you to understand that. These lads that we have staying with us, they’re worthy of the very best care and attention. They’re shell-shocked; some of them have lost limbs; one of the youngest – he’s only eighteen – has been blinded. They’re being looked after by an excellent nursing staff. And Maddy, Jessie and Hetty, too, they’re all doing a grand job. And we mustn’t forget Priscilla, Dominic’s cousin. There’s been such a change in that young woman. She’s really found a purpose in her life.’

  ‘Did you tell her about Dominic?’ asked Tilly, more calmly now.

  ‘I told her,’ replied Faith. ‘She was sleeping after her night duty when her uncle came to see me. She was very upset, as you can imagine. And your sisters know as well, Tilly. We had to tell them. They knew there was something badly amiss. They send their love and they’re all thinking about you. Of course, you know that, don’t you? As William says, we all love you, Tilly dear…and we want to help you all we can.’

  Tilly was silent for a few moments. Her thoughts were all over the place. She knew she had been surly and impolite to her mother, and she regretted that already. She knew they were all doing a vital job at the New Moon home. How insensitive of her to suggest that they were only playing at nursing. If Dominic had been spared, or if Tommy were to be injured, she would have been glad to think that they were receiving the sort of care that was administered at her mother’s nursing home.

  She knew, deep down, that she had not really wanted to apply to go overseas as Sophie had done. She had felt that her place was here, and that she was doing a worthwhile job to the best of her ability. What had possessed her to be so perverse and rude? But her mother and Uncle Will had understood. She loved them all so dearly, all the members of her family back home in Scarborough. Her sisters, too, must be worried out of their minds about their husbands, who were in constant danger. She was wrong to belittle what they were doing.