‘I don’t know how people can bear to lose a child,’ Sarah said.
‘What can you do? You’ve just got to carry on, especially when you have other children depending on you. I think it was only when Joe was born and was so like Patrick that Mum began to get over it, as much as she ever did. Well, they’re together now,’ Maureen said with a sigh.
She was able to talk to Sarah about her own unhappy love affair. ‘Chris and his wife should never have been married,’ she said. ‘But she was like Claire. They’re predators, those sort of women. They track men down and know just the sort to choose – easygoing fellows who don’t like to hurt a girl’s feelings, and who’ll take the line of least resistance by letting themselves be married out of hand. Our Stephen was lucky that he was moved to Newcastle and had time to see what was happening to him.’
Maureen told Sarah that Chris’s wife had behaved like an invalid during her pregnancy, then later she caught polio. The child was brought up by her sister and died of diphtheria at five years old. ‘She blamed Chris for everything that happened, and she’s determined to make him suffer,’ said Maureen. ‘She hates him, but he has to be there to look after her.’
Joe came on leave again in July but it was more difficult for Sarah to spend time with him. They had to be more circumspect because of the light nights, and Joe’s father wanted to have him with him as much as possible. Even though she felt frustrated, Sarah could not begrudge the grief-stricken and bewildered man the comfort of spending time with his son.
Mick had been sent to Canada for training and his letters showed that he was blissfully happy.
Quite a comfortable journey. No names, no pack drill but we were in a luxury liner, zigzagging to dodge the U-boats. Great to have white bread, not to mention the other food. We went from New York to New Brunswick by all night train. There for a few weeks, then Elementary Flying School. I can’t wait!
‘He’s happy anyway,’ Cathy remarked. ‘It was always his dream to fly but I never thought it would be this way.’
Letter cards came infrequently from Terry. Sarah wrote regularly to him, although it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to think of something to say. She told him about Mick being in Canada, although unsure if it would pass the censor, but evidently it did.
Terry wrote in reply:
I envy Mick in Canada. The chap I have been with right through comes from Liverpool but worked in Canada for years before the war.
After hearing his description of the open spaces, climate and opportunities there, I’ve decided it’s the place for me. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life at a factory bench.
He must have read the letter through and decided that he had not mentioned consulting Sarah about his plans. He added a postscript: “PS I’m sure you’d like Canada, Sarah.”
She was cheered by the letter and copied it to send to Joe. He agreed with her that Terry’s dreams for the future were obviously not of marriage and settling down.
Joe was still stationed near London, and John now a Corporal, was in Norfolk training recruits. Mick returned from Canada in the spring, bearing gifts of nylon stockings and dress lengths of material for his sisters and mother and grandmother, all carefully chosen to suit each one, and cigarettes and a lighter for his father.
He had been commissioned in Canada and returned to England with the rank of Pilot Officer. He went for four weeks acclimatization training as flying in England – hilly, crowded and with blackout – was very different to flying in Canada, then on to Operational Training for flying bombers. Mick enjoyed it all.
While he was home on leave he talked to Mrs Gunter who was renowned for her lack of tact. When he went back, she said to Cathy, ‘I see that lad of yours is still training. Seems a waste, doesn’t it, when most of them get killed so soon?’
All the fears that Cathy had tried to push to the back of her mind rushed back and she dashed into the house, unable to reply. From then on she listened in terror to the news bulletins, waiting for the words which told of the numbers of aircraft which “failed to return”.
‘But Mick’s not operational yet,’ Greg tried to comfort her. She could only think of the mothers who had lost their sons and think that Mick too would soon be in danger.
Sally was a great comfort to her. She had never been more glad of her mother’s calm good sense, and was so grateful that she was living with them.
Kate was not quite so enthusiastic about having her grandmother in the house, to watch her closely and to listen to what Kate described to herself as her “white lies”. She blamed her grandmother when her parents suddenly became strict about the men of many nationalities whom Kate had been dating.
She was told that she must bring them home to meet the family, and when she protested Cathy told her that people had been asked to show hospitality to these boys who were far from home.
When she realized that her parents were adamant, Kate began to bring the young men home, and a procession of Dutch sailors, Australian and Polish airmen, and Canadian soldiers came to collect her and then returned later for supper with the family.
Gradually, though, as her other escorts moved on, Kate brought mainly Americans to supper or to tea on Sundays, and as time passed it became one American in particular. He introduced himself as: ‘Eugene J. Romero, Ma’am, always known as Gene,’ when Cathy came forward to welcome him.
He was a quiet and likeable young man, but he soon made it clear that he would stand no nonsense from Kate. He was missing from the house for a few weeks, and when he reappeared told Cathy that Kate had stood him up on a date to go out with someone else.
‘I guess every dog is entitled to one bite,’ he said, ‘but it doesn’t get to have a second one, not in my book, and Kate knows that now.’
He checked her too when she announced that he knew Uncle Sam. ‘No, honey, I don’t know him. I know of his business, but that’s not the same thing.’
‘I like that young man. He’s just what Kate needs,’ Sally said. ‘What a pity he’s not English.’
‘Why, Mum? You don’t think they’ll marry surely? He’ll have gone home before Kate’s old enough.’
‘She’s seventeen, and an old seventeen,’ was all Sally would say. ‘She writes plenty of letters to America to our Mary. Let’s hope she’ll write as many the other way if she goes.’
Just before Christmas 1942 a baby girl was born to Helen and Tony, and did much to console Mr Fitzgerald. Joe came home on embarkation leave shortly afterwards, and he and Sarah were able to spend more time together because his father was now preoccupied with the new arrival. But Sarah had begun to worry that people were beginning to suspect their relationship, and was too nervous fully to enjoy the leave.
Several friends wrote to Terry and she was afraid that someone might tell him about her and Joe. Her commonsense told her that it was unlikely, but much to her later regret, she allowed the fear to cloud their time together. Joe remained in England for a couple of weeks, then in March she received a letter from him from North Africa.
Because Sarah and Joe wrote so frequently to each other, he had been sending his letters to her enclosed in ones to Maureen. When women registered for compulsory war work in May 1942, Maureen had been directed into clerical work in an office near to Sarah’s because of her injuries in the “May blitz”, so they were able to meet every day for Sarah to receive her letters.
Joe wrote cheerfully and lovingly, telling Sarah how much she meant to him and saying that all was going well, but the news bulletins were not so cheerful. Sarah dreaded to see Maureen bearing a telegram with bad news, but by May General Alexander could tell Churchill that the Tunisian campaign was over.
Sarah thought that this meant that he would soon be home, but instead his Battalion was ordered to Italy. The tone of his letters was still cheerful: ‘This isn’t Italy as I pictured it. We’ve had rain, hail, and snow, and bitter cold, but we’ll come here together some day, Sar, when the sun is shining. It won’t be long now, swe
etheart.’
Sarah wished that she could be so optimistic, but like most people was thoroughly fed up with the war. How much longer was it going to drag on? people wondered. The earlier defiant mood, when Britain stood alone and everyone was united against the common enemy, had gradually drained away. Life seemed full of petty problems, with shortages and queues and fussy self-important officials to contend with. Everyone was suffering from boredom and weariness as the war dragged on, and most people had grief or worry about someone to add to their troubles. Mrs Gunter’s son had been lost on a convoy to Russia, and one of the Ashcroft boys had gone down with the Prince of Wales. Michael Burns had been taken prisoner in Burma, and Peggy had only received one printed card from him in over a year.
‘I wouldn’t let the wind blow on him when he was little,’ she mourned, ‘and God only knows what’s happening to him now.’
Mick was now flying with Bomber Command, and the nightly toll of aircraft reported on the news bulletins struck fear to all their hearts. In addition Sarah was often sick with apprehension about Joe, made all the worse because she had to hide it. Sometimes she felt that the deceit needed to hide her love for Joe was more than she could bear, and sometimes she felt that she almost hated Terry, although she knew it was not his fault.
Anne came often to the Redmond house now, to see John’s family and to talk about him, and Sarah felt sure that someday she would slip up when they talked about the brothers and Anne would realize that it was Joe not Terry that Sarah hoped to marry when the war was over.
This brought her back to the weary treadmill of wondering how Terry really felt about marriage; how she could possibly tell him about Joe if he had spent these years of captivity planning for marriage and a home and family. Yet how could she bear to part from Joe, or for that matter bear to marry Terry while she loved Joe so much?
The news bulletins and newspapers gave details of the Anzio landing in which Sarah knew the Irish Guards were taking part, and in February came the news which she had dreaded. She was called out of the office to a waiting room to find Maureen, ashen-faced, with the news that Joe had been wounded. ‘They don’t give any details,’ she said. ‘Only that he’s wounded and is in hospital in Naples.’
They stared at each other, afraid to speak, then Maureen said fearfully, ‘As long as it’s not his eyes.’
Sarah replied, ‘Or a very bad wound. That he’ll live.’ They clung together then Maureen wiped her eyes and told Sarah that she had rung Tony at work.
‘He’s going to tell Dad,’ she said, ‘but he thinks we shouldn’t tell Eileen or Stephen or Terry until we get more news. Anne knows – she was at home when it came.’
Only two days later Sarah and Maureen each had a letter from Joe, written from the field dressing station before he was taken off by boat for Naples.
“I have been slightly wounded, love,” he wrote to Sarah, “in my arm and leg but they are not bad wounds. Scribbling this in case you are notified. All my love, Joe.”
Sarah went immediately to see Maureen, but whatever her feelings either of sorrow or joy about Joe, she had to conceal them at home, although she could talk freely to her father when they were alone.
Cathy’s concern was mainly for Anne as Joe’s sister, although she said to Sarah, ‘I’m sorry for you too, love. How could you have sent more bad news to Terry? Poor lad, locked away from everyone and his young life going past.’
So is mine, thought Sarah. My youth is going, marking time, waiting for this damn’ war to end to sort out my life. If only we could see some hope of its ending.
Suddenly it seemed that her hopes were realized. Joe managed to improve enough to rejoin his battalion, or the remnants of it, and they sailed for home on 7th March. They berthed in Liverpool, and Joe managed to pass a note for Sarah to a docker, but troop trains were waiting at Riverside Station and before the note reached her Joe was on his way to London.
He was given leave almost immediately and she waited for him with a light heart. Mick had completed a tour of operations and was now grounded for a while, John was still in England, and her father said that the tide of war had turned.
‘Everything’s in our favour now. The Russians have beaten Hitler, and soon we’ll have the Second Front and finish things off.’
Joe agreed when he arrived home. ‘I think we’re on the last leg now,’ he told Sarah. He showed her the wounds in his arm and leg when they were alone in the Fitzgerald house. The scars were deep and blue in colour, and he said they were made by an anti-personnel fragmentation bomb. ‘It burst on the ground as I ran past with a machine gun under my arm,’ he said, grinning. ‘A lot of blood but not much damage.’
They had a very happy leave, helped by Maureen and by Sarah’s father, but she had one uneasy moment. Vesuvius had erupted while Joe was in hospital in Naples. He was describing to Cathy and Greg and Sally how the patients had watched the molten lava from the hospital windows.
Sarah was listening with shining eyes fixed on Joe when she felt that she was being watched, and looked up to find her grandmother’s eyes on her.
‘Isn’t that exciting, Grandma?’ she said quickly. ‘Gosh, the places people are seeing now, just because of the war.’
Before Sally could reply there was a knock at the door, and the next moment Mick was among them. Immediately all the attention switched to him. ‘I sent word I was coming, honestly,’ he laughed. ‘You’ll probably get it tomorrow.’
His face was grey with dark shadows beneath the eyes, but he was as cheerful as ever, and wore his battered cap at a jaunty angle.
‘You could do with a new one, lad,’ Sally observed.
‘No, Gran, that’s how we like them,’ he said. ‘I jumped on that when it was new so that it would look well worn.’
‘Whatever next?’ Cathy exclaimed, looking at him fondly. It was pure happiness to her to have her son back under her roof and to know that he was safe, at least for a while.
Later Gene arrived and was introduced to Mick and there seemed to be an immediate rapport between them.
Kate was eighteen years old in March, and she and Gene announced their engagement on her birthday. Cathy and Greg could find no fault with the young man, except that marriage to him would take Kate so far from home.
American officers had visited the family and seemed to approve of the marriage, although Greg wondered if the family’s relationship with Sam and Mary in the States had something to do with that.
Kate had exchanged letters and photographs with Gene’s family, and Mary and Sam had also been in touch with them, so Kate seemed assured of a warm welcome when she went to America after her marriage.
Chapter Forty-One
John came on leave a day before Mick went back so for the first time in years they were able to spend a short while together. Before Mick went he said to Cathy, ‘Don’t worry about me, Mum, will you? The fellows say I bear a charmed life, and it’s true, you know. You always said I was born under a lucky star.’ And she was comforted.
She told Greg about Mick’s words as they were preparing for bed, and said that she would try to think of them when she heard of the bombing raids. She was brushing her hair and leaned forward to look in the mirror.
‘Oh, look, Greg, I’m going grey,’ she said in dismay. He came to sit beside her on the side of the bed and put his arms round her.
‘So am I, love. But when your hair has turned to silver, I will love you just the same.’
‘It’s all right for you. Grey just makes a man looks distinguished – like an office manager and partner,’ Cathy said, her dimples showing as she laughed.
Greg had worked very hard to restore the woodyard after the air raids, and to deal with the problems of repairing damaged housing. Stan Johnson had showed his appreciation by making him a partner. Six office staff were now employed, and Greg was also office manager.
‘The way I used to worry about money,’ Cathy went on. ‘With the worries we’ve got now, it seems stupid ever to have worr
ied just about making ends meet.’
‘That’s because we’ve got as much as we need now,’ Greg said. ‘Listen, Cath, we could afford a better house. What do you think about moving?’
‘I’ve never thought of it. There’s nothing wrong with this house,’ she said in surprise.
‘But wouldn’t you like hot water and a bathroom and a garden?’ Greg said. ‘And it can’t be very pleasant for Mam to see that empty space where her house was every time she steps out of the front door.’
‘You mean Mam would come with us?’
‘Of course. We’d have to see how she felt about moving before we looked round.’
Cathy pondered for a moment. ‘I wouldn’t want to move far,’ she said. ‘What about a house like the Fitzgeralds’? They’ve got hot water and a bathroom.’
‘Yes, but that’s such a big house, with attics and cellars, Cath. Don’t forget, we’ll soon be only a small family. John married, and Kate and Sarah before long, and who knows what Mick will do after the war. We’ll just think about it anyway.’
Cathy had given up the catering job after the “May blitz”, partly because she had less need of the money but chiefly because few of the old staff remained. Josie was now working full-time, Freda had remarried and moved to Scotland, and Cissie was now working in a café on the Dock Road. Her house had been destroyed in the air raid in which her husband Bert had been killed, and Cissie now lived with her sister, Queenie.
‘We fight rings round all the time,’ she told Cathy when they met one day. ‘Me and our Queenie never got on, even when we was kids.’
‘Can’t you find anywhere else to live then?’
‘I couldn’t live nowhere else while she’s got room for me,’ Cissie said in a scandalized voice. ‘We’re flesh and blood, remember.’
Many people who were “bombed out” had to make arrangements to live with relations, but not many were as successful as Sally’s move to Cathy’s house. Although she had not admitted it, she had been finding it more and more difficult to manage her own home, but in Cathy’s house she could do as much or as little as she pleased, and know that she was always loved and needed.
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