by Jill Barry
After her chat with Pearl, Charlotte concentrated on the business and helped her godmother with the domestic chores as much as possible. Extra daylight and warm weather helped enormously and sometimes, when Charlotte opened up the garage, often as early as 7.30 a.m., she wished she could stroll off towards the old harbour and along the promenade, taking advantage of the newly- minted air.
Some evenings, if they weren’t too tired from being on their feet most of the day, Charlotte and Eleanor walked down to the prom. Both agreed it didn’t seem right to see Fun Land with its stalls and rides battened down instead of dressed up in bright lights and belting out loud music.
Occasionally they’d call on Robert’s parents and Charlotte would sometimes take Smuggler out, leaving Eleanor to chat. On one such occasion, Robert’s father asked if he could walk with her.
“I don’t like the sound of what’s going on over there, Charlie,” he said, face sombre as they walked along the firm golden sands while Smuggler raced around, terrorising unsuspecting seagulls.
“Let’s perch over there,” she suggested, pointing to a flat rock a few yards away.
“I’m not scaremongering,” he said once they settled. “I try not to let the boy’s mother dwell on the situation but I’m telling you, Charlie, I wish Robert wasn’t over there.”
“Same here,” she said. “But I imagine he’s good at his job. He’s got the motorcycling skills, he can do his own maintenance and he has a good sense of direction. The perfect despatch rider, and maybe there are worse jobs than the one he’s doing.”
“You’re right, I know,” said George. “Things will take their course and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
Charlotte watched Smuggler rush back from the shoreline as a wave broke into froth and bubbles almost drenching the little dog. “It’s almost a year since he joined up and months since his leave. No wonder you both miss him.”
“Having you in our lives has helped a lot,” he said. “That’s really what I wanted to say. If you get a letter you tell us how he’s doing.”
“And you do the same for me,” she chimed in. “But we don’t truly know what he’s doing, do we? Someone like me can only imagine what it’s like. That’s why I try not to think of him as being away at war. I like to picture him working at the fair or with me riding pillion through the town. It’s escapism, I know.”
“Nobody’s going to blame you for that, love. Least of all Robert, I imagine.” He picked up a stick and flung it for Smuggler to collect. “We’d best get back but I’ve enjoyed our talk.”
“We don’t do much of that at the garage, do we? I’m writing again tomorrow so I’ll tell Robert we took Smuggler for a walk. Not that it’s sparkling news.”
“Believe me, bits and pieces like that’ll help keep him sane,” said George. “Now look at that pesky puppy … Smuggler, put that down this minute!”
Robert’s next communication must have crossed in the post with Charlotte’s letter to him. She swooped upon the postman as soon as she saw him approaching the garage and was rewarded with another cheerful but brief message.
My dear Charlotte, this is to let you know my new address for mail. Please tell my parents. I’m on the move soon so please forgive my not writing a proper letter. If you get a chance to send some soap, it would be much appreciated.
Your ever-loving Robert xxx
Charlotte copied out the address, which gave no clue as to his whereabouts. She left it on the desk for Robert’s mother to find when she came in later. Why couldn’t he be granted some leave? Whatever his father argued about his son’s suitability for the role he’d been given, it didn’t alter the fact he’d been away too long. Eleanor was right. Being patient played a very important part in the war effort, she decided.
As for her brother, nobody had heard anything for a long time but the retreat from the Dunkirk beaches brought speculation from his family as to his whereabouts. It was a great relief when Don rang from an army camp further east to say he’d been rescued and would be home on leave before long.
Peel Bay, like countless other English coastal towns became involved in defence preparations. Emotions were whipped up as well as determination to take practical action.
Don didn’t want to talk about what had happened and Charlotte didn’t press him. He slept a lot and it was a relief when he began spending time in the garage, talking to George and Jack and of course, seeing Pearl whenever possible. Sometimes he’d cycle to the base so he could ride back with her when she finished her shift.
After Don rejoined his regiment, Charlotte tried to take each day as it came. Her impatience subsided and as autumn loomed she resigned herself to another long, hard winter but there were worse things to concern her than chilblains. At Christmas, she and Eleanor spent a quiet time together as none of the men was home on leave. The two women decided to buy war bonds instead of giving each other presents though Charlotte tried her hand at making book marks as gifts for female friends and relations, sticking on scraps of fabric from her godmother’s sewing box. She surprised herself by enjoying this task.
“You see, your creative side is showing itself,” Eleanor told her, eyes twinkling at sight of the first masterpiece.
“It’s rather soothing, this kind of work,” said Charlotte.
Neither of them spoke of the continuing silence surrounding Robert’s whereabouts. When the New Year was only five days old, George arrived for work, carrying a letter, his expression concerned though he managed a smile for Charlotte.
“I’m afraid there’s some news,” he said, putting his hand up to silence her. “Please don’t jump to conclusions. Robert’s all right but he’s been injured and taken to hospital in Sicily.”
“How bad is it?” Charlotte clasped her hands in front of her mouth and gnawed on a knuckle.
Robert’s dad held out the letter. “All it says is he’s been wounded in action, he’s recovering and will be repatriated when he’s fit to travel.”
Her heart sank. Much as she wanted to see him again, she couldn’t bear the thought of Robert being in pain and suffering who knew what disability. She skimmed the handwritten letter, signed by an officer called James MacLean.
“His CO, I expect,” said George. “At least we can write to the lad.”
Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears. “How I wish I could go out there to be with him.” She handed the letter back.
Robert’s dad cleared his throat. “We can’t do anything but hope for his full recovery.”
Charlotte nodded. She didn’t want to examine the possibilities, not at that moment anyway.
She wrote as soon as she could. But she found it difficult to release on to the page the feelings welling up inside her, causing her to sniff a couple of times and angrily rub her eyes when a teardrop sneaked down one cheek. The letter she wrote to the young man occupying first place in her affections ended up sounding as if she was a friend looking forward to seeing him whenever he felt able to visit.
“Oh dear,” she sighed to herself. “I can’t send this, I really can’t.”
The last words, spoken aloud, attracted the attention of Eleanor who sat in the comfortable old chair, knitting yet another pair of socks.
“Are you writing to Robert?”
“Yes.” Charlotte laid down her pen. “The trouble is, I daren’t say what I really want to say. It’ll be too sentimental and I want him to recover quickly – not wallow in mawkish thoughts.”
“Hmm.” Eleanor thought for a moment. “It sounds as if you’re not writing from the heart then?”
“Of course I’m not, Auntie El. Didn’t I just say that?”
“Why don’t you begin again? It needn’t be lengthy. Tell him what you really want him to know, not what you think is best.”
Charlotte stared at her. “Let my emotions show, you mean?” What if he decides I’m soft in the head?”
“Believe me, he won’t. He’ll have nurses and doctors being brisk and cheerful. He’ll be doing his best
to keep a stiff upper lip and he’ll hate the thought of you worrying about him.”
Charlotte listened then began a second letter, one she hoped, when Robert opened it in his narrow hospital cot in Sicily, would warm his heart, bring unashamed tears to his eyes and confirm what he already knew.
My darling Robert
Your CO wrote to your dad to let him know you were wounded. I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear this. My heart goes out to you and, although I don’t know what your injuries are, I hope you’ll heal fast and grow stronger each day. As soon as you do, they’ll be able to send you on leave. We’ll all be waiting for you with open arms - me most of all. I miss you very much, my darling. But your regiment will be missing you too, I’m sure of that. Knowing you, you’ve achieved lots.
Their loss will be our gain! All of us love you and want to help bring you back to full strength. So come home soon, my lovely, brave Robert.
All my love, Charlottexxx
She put down her pen and read it through. Eleanor’s advice had helped her voice her true feelings for her fiancé. Before she could change her mind, she folded the flimsy sheet and placed it in an envelope, sealed it and added the address.
Eleanor looked up from her knitting. “Feel better now?”
“Much better. Thanks, Auntie El.”
“He’ll come back to you. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do.”
Sometimes Charlotte felt it was hard to recall life before the war began. Those first months after Mr Chamberlain’s dreaded announcement hit the airwaves now seemed like a dress rehearsal for the real thing. Sleepy little Peel Bay hadn’t suffered from the Blitz and somehow the airbase kept on operating.
Pearl dropped in on Charlotte a couple of months after the news of Robert’s hospitalisation. They sat in the little office where Pearl had worked.
She gazed round her as if committing everything to memory. “I’ve got something to tell you,” she said.
Charlotte steeled herself though she had a fair idea what was coming.
“I’ve volunteered to join the WAAFs.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Charlotte. “I shall miss you, even if we haven’t seen much of each other recently.”
“I’ll miss you too, Charlie, and my folks of course.” Pearl shook her head sadly. “Who knows when I’ll see Don again? I feel I want to do something more significant than dishing up fried eggs and bacon to the pilots.”
“I understand. You must write to me and tell me how you’re getting on. My list of pen pals is growing.” Her brow creased. “I’d almost forgotten about Philip. Is he still around?”
“Did he not call to say goodbye? I felt sure he would. Last time I saw him, he was off up north on a posting. I heard through the grapevine he’d been given a warning – let’s say about certain shady activities and leave it at that.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t blot his copybook then. I wonder if anything will come of his friendship with Nurse Compton. I hope the chocolates reached her in the end.”
Pearl shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
“It’s not important. I think I embarrassed him that day we bumped into one another at Huddlesham. He’s such an unlikely person to be visiting a cathedral.”
“Maybe he was asking for guidance?”
Charlotte smiled. “You could be right. War does strange things to people.”
Pearl looked at her watch. “I’ll write as soon as I can.” She put her arms around her friend. “Take good care of yourself, Charlie.”
Charlotte hugged her back. “You too, Pearly Queen.”
“My goodness, you haven’t called me that for years.”
“You always hated the nickname, that’s why.”
Pearl’s smile was wistful. “Isn’t it strange, the stupid things we used to complain about? Now look at us.”
Charlotte walked to the forecourt with her. “I refuse to say goodbye,” she said. “I’ll pop in on your mum when I can.”
“Thanks, Charlie. She’ll appreciate that. Let’s say Au Revoir then.”
As her friend walked away, Charlotte wondered just when she’d see any of her loved ones again.
Chapter 12 - Laying Foundations
Life became even busier for Charlotte, giving her no cause to wonder why she remained in a backwater while most of the people she cared about were scattered around the world. A gun battery had been installed on a small island a mile from the coast and this meant more business for the garage. She delivered cans of fuel to several different outlets now as well as coping with her normal duties.
Jack arrived one morning with a slice of watermelon grin on his face. He asked if he could speak to her.
“You’re volunteering.” She knew immediately.
He nodded. “I’m eighteen next week and I’ve passed the medical. I went to the recruiting office in Coynesbury.”
Charlotte knew, as a volunteer, he could ask to join which branch of the services he preferred. “The Navy?”
“Yes.” His face shone with pride. “I’ll miss you all. I expect you’ll need to take on another lad. It’s too much for you and George on your own.”
“Don’t worry about us. I wish you all the best. Now, better go and see what George needs you to do.” She watched him hurry off, her thoughts whirling.
As soon as she could, she wrote a short note to her father, asking him to telephone her. She dropped the letter into the nearest pillar-box before she went to lunch and crossed her fingers he’d approve of her suggestion.
Mr Moore rang next evening shortly before closing time.
“Jack’s a good lad,” he said. “And who am I to complain about someone volunteering? You’ll need another youngster though.”
“But will we? I’m wondering how much longer you want to be away from home, Dad. It’s time we started to think about the long term future of the business.”
“We none of us know how long the war’s going to last,” said her father.
“No, but you’ve given much more than many other men your age. Why don’t you come home? Take over the business again. I’m also thinking of Don’s future.” And Robert’s, she added silently.
She held her breath; her desire to keep her loved ones close to her, overwhelming her practical side. Robert would soon be pronounced fit enough to travel back to England. Who knew what condition he’d be in or whether he’d be fit enough to resume his military duties? Changing circumstances brought fresh problems and Charlotte was anxious for the family business to function efficiently.
“Do you want to follow in Pearl’s footsteps, my girl?”
“If I wasn’t engaged to Robert, I would,” she said. “But I can’t think of joining up, the way things are.”
The silence made her wonder if her father had been cut off. Then he spoke again.
“I’ve been thinking hard about my future,” he said. “My business means a lot to me and if my family needs me, I don’t think I should hesitate about coming home.”
Charlotte’s heart seemed to give a joyful back flip. “You’ve absolutely no need to feel guilty,” she said. “Anyway, knowing you, you’ll be joining the Home Guard. There’s another thing,” she said. “I think Eleanor’s finding things difficult. It’s a lot for her, coming and going between her place and ours. She’s trying to hold the salon together with just one junior.”
“Do you want to go and lend a hand there?” His voice rippled with mirth.
Charlotte chuckled. “Poor clients! No, Dad, I’ll do whatever’s needed for the garage but if you’re back, I can do something more for the war effort – there are ways I know I can help.”
“All right,” he said. “I’ll drop you a line as soon as things are sorted out this end. “Tell El to keep her chin up.”
She put down the phone with an enormous sense of relief.
When the day came, she knew exactly what she would wear. He’d always admired her in her sapphire blue tweed suit. The afternoon was crisp and cool and she�
�d chosen a white blouse with a frilled front to wear beneath her jacket. The navy blue shoes with the little heel hadn’t had an outing in a while and her godmother, bless her, produced a pair of nylon stockings she said she’d been saving for such an occasion.
Her father had swiftly settled back to his former routine. That morning he’d washed and polished his precious Vauxhall so the car gleamed in the sunshine as Charlotte opened the driver’s door.
“Take as long as you want, love,” he said as she settled herself behind the wheel. “Robert might need a rest after the train journey. You could have tea in that little hotel.”
“Thanks, Dad. It’s exciting having him come home but … well, it’s been a long time.”
“He’ll be returning with battle scars. Let him make the running.”
“I will.” She looked down at her engagement ring, remembering the day Robert proposed to her in the teashop. “It’s not too far to walk to the Corner House. I’ll see how he feels.”
Charlotte started the engine and waved to her father before driving away. How many times had she made this trip to Coynesbury station over the last few years? Robert’s last letter, written in a shaky hand, had warned her not to expect miracles. We’ll need to talk, he’d said. Yes, of course they needed to talk but she had ideas of her own – ideas he couldn’t possibly have considered.
As soon as she drove into Coynesbury she took the turning for the station, parking as close as possible. Her tummy felt as if dozens of butterflies were batting their wings inside it and she walked away from the car then had to turn back and lock it.
Once on the platform, she asked a porter if the train was on time. He told her it was and continued trundling a trolley loaded with postbags. Was he really fifteen? He looked about twelve. She smiled to herself. That air of expectancy heralding the arrival of a long distance train seemed heightened today. Passengers, spotting the engine in the distance, picked up their bags, some moving along the platform. Charlotte suddenly remembered the last time she’d waited for Robert and began walking briskly towards the platform’s furthest end.