For All Our Tomorrows

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘Maybe I wouldn’t mind so much, if you came along with them.’ They smiled at each other, a smile which carried rather more meaning than it should. ‘How come you’ve no car? Not that I mind, you understand. I’m just curious.’

  Sara was silent, and he glanced curiously at her.

  ‘Hugh is using the car this morning, so I would have had to catch the bus, which takes so much longer. I’m most grateful.’

  ‘But if he knew you had to collect stuff . . .’ His attention was taken by a herd of cows who were ambling along the lane right in front of them and he had to slow right down and then stop the jeep to wait for them all to be ushered through a gate. ‘So why did Hugh take the car?’

  ‘Oh, he has these moods now and then. All very silly. Male ego, I suppose.’

  Silence again while he thought about this. One cow had made a break for freedom and the farmer was cursing and sending a dog after it. ‘Anything to do with us?’

  ‘Us?’

  ‘Don’t pretend, Sara. I don’t think I could bear that. You know how it is between us, these feelings we’re trying to pretend don’t exist.’

  A small silence and then a sigh. ‘They mustn’t exist. We can’t let them exist. I’m married.’

  ‘I note you’ve left off the happily this time. So am I married. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make one immune to falling in love.’

  They both sat watching the pantomime antics of the dog and the cow, not daring to even glance at each other. ‘Is that what we’ve done? Fallen in love? Oh, I do hope not. That would be quite dreadful.’

  ‘Why would it? Ok, you already said why. We’re both married. Blast it, they’ve caught the renegade, now we’ll have to drive on.’

  They said nothing more as he drove along the winding lane up to Fowey Cross and then on to Lostwithiel, but Sara’s mind was churning. It was true, what he said. It might be frightening, terrifying even, to hear the words spoken out loud, but it was no revelation to her. She did love him, and in her heart she’d known all along that he loved her too.

  He parked by the river but neither of them made any effort to get out of the vehicle, and still Sara hadn’t cast a single glance in his direction.

  ‘Look at me, Sara.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘I’m not going to do anything. I’m not going to embarrass you by kissing you in public, for all I might long to do so. I have too much respect for you for that, but I want you to know how I feel about you. I want you to see it in my eyes, to know that it’s not anything to do with my being homesick or missing my wife. The sad fact is I don’t miss her at all. We should never have got married, Yvonne and I. Both our families hustled us into it, and it was a mistake. I think she may have found herself another guy, someone to keep her company now that I’m not there. Soon as I get home, I’ll be filing for divorce. I know this doesn’t help much, not right now, but I wanted you to know all of that.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Then Sara got out of the jeep and walked away, spine rigid, without a single backward glance. Only when she reached the bridge, quite out of sight did she lean on the parapet and sob as if her heart would break. Charlie might well be able to break free from his marriage, but there was no way she could ever escape from Hugh.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Whatever happens, Sadie must never know.’ Bette and Sara were on the Polruan ferry, ostensibly taking the children out for one of their regular Saturday afternoon jaunts while the two sisters caught up on each other’s news. The kind which would take some explaining on all sides.

  Sara had said nothing yet about her own situation, being far too stunned by Bette’s news.

  The sun was shining on this clear April day, and the picturesque village of Polruan just across the water from Fowey, with its huddle of cottages that clung to the hillside, bore it’s usual bustle of activity. The navy was much in evidence, as usual, along with the US marines, the boatyard awash with work, men crawling over half-finished vessels like dozens of busy ants. And around the corner of the harbour wall, in Pont Pill, a warship stood at anchor, perhaps suffering some repairs or resting beside the calm wooded banks before returning refreshed to its duties. A Dutch salvage tug stood not far away, a couple of drifters, and the usual clutch of motor gunboats, auxiliary patrol boats and mine-sweepers moored cheek by jowl in the river.

  A fishing trawler, French, by the look of it, hit the only incongruous note in this armoury of fighting vessels. Frightening as the reality was behind this erroneously idyllic scene, Sara felt proud to be a part of it.

  Yet sadness was a part of her emotion on this day.

  ‘I can’t believe poor Chad is dead. Or that you could so quickly forget him. Are you certain that you know what you’re doing, Bette? I thought you didn’t really care for Barney.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten him. I still love Chad but I love Barney too.’

  ‘How can you love two men? That’s not possible.’

  ‘I don’t know but somehow I do. Oh, Barney has his faults, I don’t deny it. He loves to brag about how marvellous he is, how big and wonderful America is, and how small and shabby England is, but there’s another side to him altogether. One I’ve seen a lot of recently. He can be fun, a dreamy dancer, and surprisingly home loving. There’s nothing he likes better than to share our simple suppers, and you should have seen him with Dad and those rabbits. Hilarious!’

  ‘And you say he’s offered to marry you, even though . . .’ Sara dropped her voice, making sure that Jenny and Drew were out of earshot, happily helping the ferryman to steer. ‘Even though the child isn’t his?’

  ‘He wants to marry me. He loves me!’

  Barney had been utterly stunned when she’d confessed her pregnancy to him, his face had gone so white and shocked that she’d thought for a moment he might turn tail and run, but that was men for you. Never did consider the consequences of their actions.

  ‘We don’t know for certain that the child isn’t his. It could be.’

  ‘Bette!’

  The expression on her sister’s face compelled her add, ‘Don’t look so accusing. We had a mad moment of passion, that’s all. He’s behaved himself since. The perfect southern gentleman. Well, mostly. It’s different now that we’re engaged, of course.’

  ‘Engaged? He’s given you a ring already, with Chad only just . . ?’

  ‘No, no, no ring yet, but he will, as soon as it seems right.’

  ‘Oh, Bette, I do worry about you, I really do. You’re so impulsive, flitting from one man to the other. That’s no way to carry on.’

  ‘And what about you? Miss Goody-Two-Shoes. You should have heard what Nora Snell was saying about you when she was under the drier the other day. It’s just as well it was me who was doing her hair on that occasion, and not Mam.’

  ‘Oh, lord, what’s she been saying now? Whatever it is, don’t believe a word of it.’

  Bette laughed. ‘So you weren’t in Charles Denham’s jeep then? And your cheeks aren’t bright pink with guilt?’

  ‘Look, we’ve arrived. Come on children. Take care as you get out of the boat. Don’t forget your fishing net, Drew.’

  ‘You carry it for me, Mummy.’

  ‘I certainly will not. You know very well I told you not to bring it. You’ll be lucky if we get near enough to any rock pools today. Jenny, look where you’re putting your feet or you’ll fall into the sea. There we are, safe and sound on dry land. Right children, race you to the top of the hill.’

  ‘You’ve got to be joking,’ Bette laughed. ‘It’s a hard slog up there. I think we’ll take it slowly, and save our breath for the climb. Once we’ve got Lantic Bay in our sights, we’ll have this out good and proper.’

  They felt as if they’d walked for miles. Along West Street with its panoramic view of Fowey, looking even more beautiful somehow from this side of the river. Then on past the block-house, now a ruin but once used for coastal defences back in the fifteenth century when a heavy chain was slung across the harbour entrance to a
similar blockhouse on the Fowey side, intended to keep out the French.

  ‘It’s strange that the French are welcomed as allies now, when you think how we used to fight them once-over. Hugh has even started to learn the language. Most odd, but I heard him practising some phrases the other day.’

  ‘Maybe he’s going to take you to Paris for a second honeymoon.’

  Sara frowned, wondering if that could be true, and if she would enjoy it if it were.

  As they walked on past the coastguard station, Sara wondered if he was away on coastguard service today, and if Iris was with him. She certainly wasn’t at The Ship, as Sid was managing on his own, with Sara doing the meals upstairs, of course. He’d been gone for a few days on this, his latest mission and she knew he wasn’t with the lifeboat, as the familiar dark blue vessel was standing anchored in the river, ever ready for service. Where he went, or what he did on these trips, she hadn’t the first idea, nor dare she risk any further questions on the subject but simply sent up a silent prayer each time that he would come back safe and sound.

  She did once try to break the rules while he was away, and sneaked behind the bar to help, as the pub was so busy, but Sid wouldn’t have it. ‘Lose my job, if not my scalp, were Mr Marrack to find out.’

  Even when he was absent, she was compelled to behave like an obedient wife. Although she did once provide lunch for a group of American officers, which neither Sid nor Hugh knew anything about. Charlie had been among them. They’d had a hard time of it keeping their glances apart, and when she’d placed a bowl of soup before him, his fingers had accidentally touched hers. Sara felt as if she’d been scalded.

  The children found it a long, hard struggle up Battery Lane but they came at last out onto the grassy slopes of St. Saviour’s Point and then burst into a run, as children do. From here, the coastguard lookout could see for fifty miles or more, from Prawle Point in the east, past the Eddystone light off Plymouth to Black Head and The Manacles near the Lizard in the west.

  Today the sea looked calm, almost benign, but Sara knew this to be false. There was no element more dangerous and somewhere, out on those cold, unfriendly waters, among that vast assortment of enemy and friendly shipping, was her husband.

  Did his heart lift whenever he sighted the ruined buttress of St. Saviour’s ancient chapel, as sailors by the score must have done in years gone by? Did he think of her and long to rush to her side, as they must have done, eager to be with their sweethearts and wives?

  She rather thought not. His kisses these days were more chaste and dutiful than passionate. Whatever had gone wrong between them, she didn’t seem able to put right.

  Sara sighed, and walked on, putting her romantic visions aside.

  They followed the coastal path which would ultimately lead to Polperro, were they to have the time and energy to walk so far; the coves of Lantic Bay, Lanivet Bay and Lansallos Beach closed to them which made Drew shout out in his little boy voice how much he hated the war.

  ‘It’s so unfair,’ he said, stamping his feet and making them all laugh. ‘Those nasty Germans have spoiled my fishing.’

  The walk was strenuous and they were ready to sit down and rest by the time they found a small sandy hollow far enough away from the hustle and bustle to set out their picnic. Deprived of the thrill of going down into one of the pretty little coves to build sand castles and paddle, or fish in rock pools, the children happily engrossed themselves with digging trenches.

  ‘I’m going to shoot at all the German planes that go over, Mummy.’

  ‘Are you, darling? How very brave of you. Well, make sure they’re not ours before you do fire at them, won’t you?’

  ‘Course I will. What I really need is a telescope, like Daddy’s, then I can spot what all these ships are, make sure I’m not being spied on, like Daddy does. Oh!’ He stopped talking, going suddenly very red. Sara laughed.

  ‘I rather think Drew is hoping that this war will go on long enough for him to join up. Fortunately, at five, I reckon he’s fairly safe, don’t you? They say one last push and it will all be over. I wonder what will happen to us then? We’ll be free to choose and make plans for a new beginning.’

  Both sisters fell silent, trying to imagine how freedom would feel after all these years. Sara felt uncertain, even afraid of the future, which was stupid. She longed for the war to end, so that Hugh would never need to go to sea again. He would be home all the time and Charles Denham, along with the rest of the US marines, would return home.

  Somehow this thought didn’t bring her the cheer it should. Bette, she could see, was filled with a nervous energy, bursting to unburden herself even further. Sara wasn’t sure she wanted to hear any more confessions. ‘Tea?’ She began to pour from the thermos while Bette handed out sandwiches.

  Jenny screwed up her small nose. ‘Ooh, not fish paste again.’

  Drew made a vomiting sound in his throat. ‘Why can’t we have egg, or some of that peanut butter stuff Charlie brings us?’

  ‘Charlie?’ Bette raised her eyebrows.

  ‘The children call him that. The peanut butter is for the fête, not for greedy little boys to gobble up,’ and she tickled her small son, making him giggle.

  Bette archly commented. ‘Perhaps Mummy could ask Charlie to get you some to have all to yourself? I’m sure he would, if Mummy asked him.’

  ‘Would he, Mummy? Ask him, ask him, ask him,’ Drew yelled, Jenny chiming in.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done. Calm down, children. I’ll see what I can do. Yes, I promise, now run along and play but don’t go anywhere near the edge. We don’t want you falling down the cliffs.’

  ‘We’d get blown up by a mine,’ yelled Drew. ‘Bang! And you’d be in little bits, Jenny, like Little Black Mingo in the story book.’

  ‘I wouldn’t, would I Mummy?’

  ‘For goodness sake, play quietly for once the pair of you, and stop frightening her, Drew. Just be good and stay where I can see you.’

  Bette’s eyes were twinkling. ‘What will they say when they hear they’re going to have a little cousin? I do wonder how our children will turn out when they grow up, don’t you? Will they make the same sort of mess of their lives as we have.’

  ‘Speak for yourself.’ Sara bit into a fish paste sandwich and, despite her earlier comment, wrinkled her own nose. She was as bored with it as the children, but it was cheap and plentiful in these parts, so they should consider themselves fortunate.

  ‘You can’t claim to be happy with bossy Hugh. He’s so – so controlling! “You must do as I tell you, Sara. No, you may not serve in the bar, Sara. Good heavens, one of those dreadful men might take a shine to you, darling. Stay upstairs out of the way, and be a good, obedient little wife.’ Bette gave a mocking salute, then fell about laughing. ‘A bit of a little Hitler himself, in a way.’

  Sara couldn’t help but giggle. She always did find Bette’s impersonations so life-like and funny. It could easily have been Hugh, the tone of voice absolutely right.

  ‘And you let him. Yes sir. No sir. Three bags full sir.’

  ‘I don’t all the time.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’

  Sara was frowning now. ‘I suppose I married the first man who came along and thought him a real catch. Now, I’m not so sure. He’s changed recently. Behaving even more oddly than he did after Valda died. His poor mother used to tell me how she’d failed him, not ever being able to love him as she should. How he was the sort of little boy who loved to pull wings off flies, and how she’d never known him to actually cry. He’s impervious to pain, she’d say, his own and other people’s. I paid not the slightest attention, yet I’m beginning to wonder if perhaps she wasn’t trying to warn me, in her gentle way.

  ‘Now he’s told me I must resign from the War Weapons committee. I’m not to do any more war work, would you believe? I’m to stay at home and be a proper wife and mother.’

  Bette had been listening sympathetically as her sister poured out her heart, now she was outr
aged. ‘What? And to hell with the fact that you enjoy the work and want to carry on.’

  ‘It would seem my wishes are of no account.’

  Bette made a growling noise deep in her throat. ‘I assume this is because he doesn’t approve of the contact it gives you with the Americans.’

  ‘That’s about the size of it.’

  ‘And you’ve been seeing quite a lot of this Lieutenant Denham. Do you perhaps fancy him just the tiniest bit? Ah, you’re blushing again, so I’ll take that as a yes.’

  ‘It’s impossible.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You know why. He’s married. I’m married.’

  ‘You could get unmarried. It’s been done before, I believe.’

  ‘Don’t be flippant, Bette. This is so awful. Dreadful! I can’t believe I feel this way, like a young girl again. A silly young girl. And there are the children to consider. Even if Hugh ever agreed to the unthinkable disgrace of a divorce, he’d never let me have the children. Never! Oh, God, Bette, what a mess! Why ever did these men have to come here, to our town?’

  ‘Oh, and aren’t we glad that they did. Does he feel the same way?’

  Sara gave the barest inclination of her head.

  ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘What can I do?’

  ‘I could make one or two suggestions, though as you never take my advice, I shan’t waste my breath. Let’s just say that when I love someone, as I do Barney, I don’t give up easily. It isn’t going to be easy getting official permission to marry, but we’re quite determined to get it. You’ll see, any moment now, I’ll be Mrs Barney Willert. And, even more exciting, I’ve persuaded him to wangle transport to ship me out to the states.’

  There was a long, strained silence while Sara’s eyes widened in shock. ‘America? You’re going to America? When did you decide this?’

  ‘Oh, lord, I forgot to mention that, didn’t I? I can’t stay here, can I, when my husband is American with a good business back in the States? And what is the point with the war almost over? I could be getting things ready for him back in his home town, getting to know his folks. Don’t look at me like that, Sara, I have to get out of this place. I couldn’t face the reproachful glances, the whispering behind hands that would be bound to go on here if I stayed.’