A Christmas Gift

by Ruby Jackson

  The colonel took to the stage and he called back a surprised Millie. He made a speech, thanking the company for their work in raising morale and then he gestured to the wings and Rowan, the driver, walked on stage. He was carrying a small frame, which he gave the colonel. Then the colonel presented it, with ‘admiration and respect’ from the entire regiment, to a puzzled Millie.

  Millie took the frame as a ballerina takes flowers. Her hand flew to her face, ‘Oh, how …?’ she asked, and held the frame against her breast.

  She turned to the audience, most of whom did not know what was in the frame and said, ‘Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I will never forget today.’ She bowed and left the stage.

  Later, in their tent, Millie and Sally made room for the others to crowd in and there were gasps of surprise and admiration. Inside the frame was a stark pencil drawing of a pole on which a British soldier’s helmet hung. Kneeling before the pole was Millie in her ENSA uniform.

  ‘How did it happen, Seb? How did he do it? He wasn’t even there.’

  ‘He did the programmes, Millie, and so I knew he was an artist. I offered to pay him to draw the area for you and he refused payment. He did a rough sketch of the field with the memorial and I thought it was superb. But then he decided on his own to include you. He must have done you from memory. It’s his gift to you.’

  Millie’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. ‘I shall treasure it, Seb,’ she said very quietly.

  ‘Good, when this damned war is over I’ve promised that we’ll all go to his first exhibition – but we’ll have to go to Glasgow and who knows, maybe the same piper will be there. But, that’s life, the rough with the smooth. He’s a really nice young chap and so talented. Unfortunately I don’t know anyone in the Glasgow art scene – may have to saunter up there to have a look – but in the meantime he knows we’ll find a corner for him if he wants to try London.’

  ‘Best idea you’ve had yet,’ said Millie, and bent her head so that no one could see the smile that had replaced her tears.

  November 1944

  News broadcasts told the company that the Allied armies had landed in North Africa. A few days later they heard that, whether by accident or design, Italy had invaded Corsica. Sally thought of the good people who had helped Jon and prayed that they would be safe.

  But now, the ENSA company left France, travelled to Italy, where it was obvious that they were unwelcome, and from there, sailed to Egypt.

  Just before they had left the area around Arras, mail arrived. Sally’s heart skipped a beat when she saw that there was a letter from Jon. What if it had come the next day when they were gone? How long would it have taken to follow her around the Mediterranean? She scolded herself for needless worrying and read the letter in which he explained a little about the strange letters from his time hiding with the Maquis.

  Those were two of the letters, Sally, that I wrote to you while I was in Corsica.

  Perhaps Jean-Jacques escaped to England and took the letters with him but it’s more likely that it was the priest. I would like that to be so, that he is safe and well in a civilised country. Perhaps the other letters will follow these first two, but there is little in them. I told you about working in the garden, and about fishing with Jean-Jacques. I could help there because I learned to sail as a child and, until Gibraltar, the sea had always been my friend. I suppose I must say it still is as it did not close itself over my head and I live with the joyful knowledge that one day, some day, you and I will be together.

  She was almost more excited to find a letter from her old friend Grace, who was a land girl, now engaged to Sam, the oldest brother of the Petrie twins.

  If only the war would end, Sally. Sam and I have decided not to marry until it’s over, and Daisy and Tomas never seem to be in the same place so that they can make plans or arrangements. Did your mum tell you that Mrs Petrie hopes we’ll have a double wedding? At least I have some money of my own now – a legacy from my grandmother – but Sam says he’s not marrying me for my money. Isn’t he funny? There is something special I would like to do with it and Sam will agree for he says it is mine to do with as I please.

  I’m sorry I don’t write much but I do think of you. I would love to see you on stage. One day, Sam says, and so we will.

  Love,

  Grace

  In Egypt, the post rarely arrived, but one hot dusty afternoon there was mail on the desk in the tent Sally shared with Millie. ‘Christmas is here,’ she called to Millie, who was sitting on her bed desperately losing the battle – as she saw it – to prevent her skin from drying out. ‘You too?’ she asked happily, waving the envelopes.

  Millie wiped the face cream off her fingers with the tail end of her blouse, reached behind her and held up an envelope. ‘Long letter from my mum. Yours from Jon?’

  ‘Christmas cards from almost everyone I ever met – except Jon. I won’t complain. After all, Millicent, there’s a war on.’

  TWENTY ONE

  Late February 1945, London

  Sally woke, disturbed possibly by the change in altitude as the great bird gradually slipped down through the clouds on its descent into London. She shook her head as if to rid it of the crowds of thoughts that had filled it, and looked around. They had been away from home for such a long time and yet, besides the crew, she seemed to be the only one awake and staring out of a tiny window looking for a first glimpse of the city. There it was, its customary blanket of cloud, smoke and dust lying over it as if firm enough to walk on.

  ‘Hello, home,’ she whispered, and turned to look with affection on her travelling companions. Millie’s head rested on Sebastian’s right arm and still he slept.

  Dear Millie, dear, dear Sebastian. Sally smiled fondly. She had, after all, awakened to find herself on his left arm. How many times had they slept like that, on lorries, on trains, on boats and now on a plane? How peaceful her two best friends looked, and somehow so right together. She sent up a silent prayer and turned again to look out of the window.

  The company had, in a way, a debriefing not unlike that gone through by Jon. From the airport each one had been allowed to go home and Sally and Millie had spent the first night back in England in Sebastian’s flat. Dmitri had looked after everything well and Sebastian retrieved champagne and some smoked salmon from the sparklingly clean refrigerator.

  ‘Now I think I know where he found the bubbly, but where did our favourite Russian find salmon?’

  ‘I don’t particularly care,’ said Millie. ‘We’re home safely; your lovely flat is untouched, and I have this beautiful drawing to show Patrick’s mum and dad. In fact I may give it to them, if I think they would like to have it.’

  ‘But what about you, Mill?’

  Millie smiled at Sebastian as he struggled with the bottle. ‘I saw it, Seb, I was there; I don’t need it and I think they do.’

  Next day they dispersed to their families, and Sally found herself at Dartford Station in the pouring rain. Unable to face the thought of a walk in a downpour, she looked round for a taxi.

  ‘Sally,’ a male voice called. ‘Sally Brewer, is that you?’

  A tall man in uniform was walking quickly towards her and for the first time in her life, Sally threw herself into Sam Petrie’s outstretched arms.

  A few minutes later they were driving out of the station and heading home. Sam, too, had just arrived with a few days’ leave and was planning to spend one night with his parents before driving north to see Grace, his fiancée. ‘Always the way, Sally; the girls are never here when I am, but it’s a joy to see you.’

  They chatted about their work but not their private lives; that was not Sam Petrie’s way.

  ‘Good of your dad to leave the van for you, Sam.’

  ‘Yes, annoyed he couldn’t pick me up himself but I’m a big lad, I’ll wait up for him.’

  They turned into Sally’s street and he drew up just beyond the cinema. ‘Wish we had time to see that, Sally.’ They looked up together and Sally re
ad that Anna Neagle and Anton Walbrook were starring in Victoria the Great.

  ‘I’m sure I saw it when I was still at school, Sam; educational, my mum thought.’ She leaned across as she had never done before and kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘Good night and thanks, Sam, and give my love to everyone. I’m sorry I don’t write much.’

  ‘None of us has the time we want, Sally. Love to your mum and dad.’

  Sally watched the little van pull away and wondered if the petrol would be put down as ‘Delivery’.

  Picking up decorated former POW, she said, a good reason.

  Her parents, who had not expected her, were not at home, and Sally carried her overnight case back to the cinema where the girl with the sweets tray refused at first to let her in.

  ‘I’m Sally Brewer.’

  The girl emitted a small excited shriek but, pledged to silence, allowed Sally to go upstairs to the projection booth.

  ‘Let me help you with that reel, Mr Brewer.’

  Her father almost dropped the reel he was changing and so began a wonderful twenty-four-hour family visit.

  It passed too quickly of course. There was so much to tell, so much to exclaim over and it was almost morning before they went to bed. Sally woke to familiar sounds and smells. Jumping out of bed, she threw on her ancient dressing gown and joined her parents in the kitchen.

  ‘We expected to see you burned black by the sun.’

  ‘I covered up all the time, Mum. Poor Millie says she dried up like a prune but it was all wonderful. I’ve seen things I never dreamed of, pyramids, Mum, and Egypt’s not like a big beach, it’s all mountains and rocks and every now and then a place with trees, an oasis.’

  ‘Camels?’

  ‘We saw some occasionally, and sometimes there were men in robes riding them. Looks terribly uncomfortable.’

  She avoided talk of Jon deliberately because she had not really worked out what she wanted or needed to say. She had no idea what her mother had told her father and what his reaction had been. Finally, however, she could not avoid it and she told them everything. As they listened, their eyes never left her face.

  ‘You’re going to marry him then, our Sal?’ her father asked her bluntly.

  ‘If we still feel this way when the war is over.’

  ‘And you will, Sally; you love him very much,’ her mother said, but her voice was sad.

  ‘He loves you too, Sally?’ asked her father.

  ‘Yes, Dad, he does.’

  Ernie looked at his wife and smiled. ‘Then, Elsie, love, that’s really all that matters, isn’t it?’

  Next morning Sally took the first train back to London. She had hoped to see Maude but her mother could not bear to let her go and she did not visit the Petries for the same reason. She was glad that she had seen Sam, who had been so important to all four friends as they grew up, but he would tell the others that he had seen her and would send them her love.

  ‘Oh, please, let this war end soon,’ she prayed. Perhaps it would, for no matter how much of a secret it was supposed to be, everyone in England was aware that, almost monthly, American troops were arriving in Britain.

  There had to be a reason. Was it the thing that was called the Second Front? If so, decided Sally, it could not come soon enough.

  She had not told Sebastian when she’d be arriving and so she took her time making her way home. She had brought some tea leaves, a loaf of her mother’s freshly baked bread and a bunch of curly kale grown at a local farm and which Elsie said she would not use.

  ‘You remember Alf Humble, Sally – he’s that generous – but the kale took over his “own use” plot and your dad says he can’t face another bowl of cabbage soup. Flora Petrie could scarce wait for her Sam to get home on leave. “Always loved his kale, our Sam,” she said.’

  ‘Fresh vegetables are a real treat for us, Mum.’ Sally had been happy to take the kale.

  Now she walked slowly along London streets, happier than she had ever imagined at being back in the capital city. Tomorrow they would discuss their experiences in France and Egypt – a few hours in Italy could scarcely be called part of their tour, and then they would be told what the future held for them. Even thinking the word ‘future’ made her go hot all over, for Jon, Just Jon was going to be a part of it. Her arms ached, not with the weight of her message bag and her overnight case but with longing for Jon.

  At the Mansion she set her case down to open the door and the lovely welcoming smell of wood polish met her. Someone – Dmitri, she supposed, for he seemed to do everything – had polished the banisters and they gleamed in the light from the overhead window.

  She climbed the stairs, stopped outside the door of the flat and listened, hoping to hear the sound of the piano or one of Sebastian’s records but all was quiet. She went in and just as she closed the door behind her, she heard a giggle.

  Millie’s back, she decided, and she’s giggling. How lovely.

  She took off her coat and was just about to hang it on the heavily carved coat stand that must, she had always thought, have belonged to Sebastian’s grandmamma’s grandmamma when Sebastian’s bedroom door flew open and out ran Millie without a stitch of clothing on, followed by an equally naked Dmitri.

  The women shrieked and then all three laughed. Sally turned and looked at the door, and Millie and Dmitri, not at all discomfited, ran back into the bedroom. When she heard the door close, Sally picked up her bags and hurried along the corridor to the room she had shared with Millie.

  ‘Sorry, Sally, that was quite a welcome.’

  Sally, Millie and Sebastian were sitting in the kitchen drinking tea.

  Sally smiled, looking across the table at Millie, whose eyes were downcast like those of a naughty child. ‘Quite a surprise.’

  ‘Actually,’ she said slowly, enjoying her discomfort, ‘after I got over the initial shock, I was delighted. I wouldn’t announce your news to everyone in quite that way, though. I’ve made tea and Mum made us a loaf.’

  ‘Damn, sorry, Sally,’ said Sebastian. ‘Should have said straight away. Jon rang.’

  Sally’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach at the thought that she had missed him. ‘When? Where is he?’

  ‘Last night, and I’ve no idea. He was calling from …’ He looked at Millie.

  ‘Somewhere in the Mediterranean; it was a bugger of a line, Sal, lots of crackling, if you know what I mean, but he says … where’s the paper, Seb?’

  Sebastian got up and hurried along the corridor to his bedroom, and Sally smiled and tried to be patient. In a few moments Sebastian returned waving a small piece of blue paper.

  ‘Here you are. He said that Padre Vicenzo brought some letters to London and is now in hiding, probably until after the war and that he, Jon, will be here some day this week for two or three days; he’s not exactly sure. I told him you were at home and he said something like feed a telephone.’

  ‘Feed a … honestly, Sebastian, he must have said my parents need a telephone.’

  ‘That’s what it must have been. Anyway, dear girl, it was a short call and he’ll be on our doorstep any minute, I suppose.’

  Sally thought she would burst with excitement. If only she knew exactly when Jon would arrive she’d be counting the minutes.

  Jon turned up on the doorstep at the Theatre Royal and Sally was called from a meeting.

  Max suggested they use his office and Sally, somewhat shyly, led the way, aware that the entire company was interested in the tall handsome naval officer.

  ‘I hear he’s a real lord,’ she heard one of the chorus say, and blushed furiously but Jon merely smiled. As soon as the door of the office closed behind them Jon pulled her into his arms and for several minutes they stood and kissed and murmured nothings and then kissed again.

  At last they gained control. Jon held her away from him, groaned and pulled her into his arms again. ‘Oh, God above, how I’ve missed you, your voice, your smell, the feel of your skin. I don’t know how long I have, Sa
lly – today, tomorrow maybe. We’re promised leave, a whole week, but when, I don’t know. It all depends on—’

  ‘The war,’ she said. ‘I understand, Jon, and I didn’t hope even for this.’

  ‘I’m free this evening. We could have dinner.’ There was longing and hope in his voice.

  ‘I’m free, no shows for a week or two.’

  ‘I’ll find somewhere special.’ He kissed her again and then he moved away. ‘I won’t leave at all if I don’t leave now, and how embarrassing for your friends to see me being led away by great burly sailors. ‘Seven OK? I’ll come and meet your chums, and then we’ll go.’

  They walked to the front door of the theatre and there he turned to her. ‘Goodbye until this evening,’ he said almost formally, and then he bent swiftly and kissed her cheek.

  Sally spent the rest of the day almost in a mist. She attempted to pay attention but every moment with Jon played itself over and over in her mind. Max was patient although sometimes she was alert enough to see him shaking his head as he looked at her and she tried, unsuccessfully, to listen to and understand every word he said.

  Millie and Sebastian led her away at five thirty. ‘What time?’ asked Millie.

  ‘Seven.’

  ‘If we hurry, and the Gods of the underground are on our side, we might make it. Thank God the old lily doesn’t need much gilding,’ said Sebastian.

  ‘Thanks, I think,’ said Sally, but really she was aware only of gathering excitement as hordes of butterflies invaded her stomach.

  She was not quite ready when Jon arrived; she had tried on three different dresses, dismissed them all and started again at the beginning.

  ‘He hasn’t seen you in any of them, Sal, so for heaven’s sake, get dressed or we’ll throw you out in your skivvies,’ Millie said as Sally again examined each dress critically.

  At last she selected a pale pink evening dress with a cross-over bodice and almost medieval long filmy sleeves.