Home Sweet Home

by Lizzie Lane

  The time for Michael to fly again came too quickly.

  ‘I’ll be away for a few weeks on this next mission. Don’t worry if I’m not home quite so often before then too.’

  ‘No. I won’t.’ She beamed up at him with a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. She would worry about him. She couldn’t help worrying about him.

  On an April morning, following a breakfast of porridge and farm fresh eggs, she watched him leave the house. She wondered what he was up to and whether she would ever see him again. The last thought was the one that was best ignored and thus quashed immediately. All the other air force wives agreed that they had to think positively. But it wasn’t easy. All of them feared being widows only a short time after they’d been brides.

  His visits home had become briefer, as he’d said they would. During those first weeks of the new year, when he was at home, he was secretive and looked tired. He’d also spent time poring through books from the groaning shelves, though on reflection she realised it was the same book every time.

  It was on one such occasion, just after she’d put Beatrice down for her post-feed nap, that she found him sound asleep in his favourite chair, his scarred hands resting on an open book. Gently she took the open book from his hands. Before putting it back on the shelf, she glanced at a fuzzy photograph and descriptions of Derwent Water in the Lake District.

  She frowned, her fingers tapping the cover as she tried to work out why he would be studying the book so often. Did he have it in mind to surprise her with a short holiday? She hoped not. Surely the north of England was chillier than the south at this time of year, and besides, if they were to have some time away, she’d prefer to go home. She pined for her family and guessed that Michael’s aunt, Bettina Hicks, would love to see them too.

  ‘What?’

  Michael jerked into wakefulness. On seeing the book she was holding, the look on his face was one of alarm.

  ‘You fell asleep,’ said Mary attempting a weak smile.

  He snatched the book from her hand. ‘I’ll take this. I might need it later.’

  ‘Was it a surprise?’

  He frowned. ‘Surprise? What the hell do you mean?’

  Mary ignored the sharpness in his voice and tried again even though it looked as though she might have made a mistake. ‘Have you got any leave coming up? I mean, after this next job is over – whatever it is?’

  His weary eyes blinked. ‘I don’t know. Probably.’ He sounded thoughtful.

  ‘Have you arranged for us to have a holiday in the Lake District? Only if we are, I’ll need to make arrangements for Beatrice. She’s too young to travel and Derwent Water is a long way away and—’

  She saw the look in his eyes, confirmation as if she needed it, that she was very much mistaken.

  ‘We’re not going to the Lake District?’

  He hugged the book to his chest, rose from his chair and stuffed it back on the bookshelf. ‘No. We are not!’

  Mary felt hurt. Michael didn’t usually snap at her. The way he spoke was usually calm and collected unless he was really riled. A sudden knot of alarm started deep in her stomach and her skin prickled with fear. His attitude was confirmation enough that something big was on the cards, something that would put him in danger.

  She took a step closer and looked up into his face, reaching out to touch it.

  He jerked back as though her touch had stung him. There was a hooded, secretive look in his eyes. She realised that she was right. The big thing he’d hinted at some time before was on. What was it and, more to the point, how dangerous was it?

  She knew she shouldn’t ask, but couldn’t help herself. ‘Michael. What is it?’

  ‘Ask no questions; you’ll be told no lies.’

  She ignored the childish rebuke. Michael was obviously under a lot of pressure.

  Her eyes swept the spot where he’d put the book back. The books to either side of it were red. The one relating to the Lake District was green. Somehow it seemed very appropriate, the Lake District being a watery area of both natural and manmade lakes surrounded by lots of green trees and grassy hills.

  ‘I don’t think I deserve this,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Trust me, Michael. Please trust me.’

  He had his back to her. She sensed his reluctance to share what he was involved in, which of course meant it was dangerous.

  ‘Michael. You can trust me.’ There was pleading in her voice even though it was little more than a whisper.

  She saw his shoulders heave in a huge sigh before he turned from the bookcase, his head turned slightly to one side. He attempted a smile. ‘It’s nothing to concern yourself about. We’ve been doing some training exercises up there. I just wanted to check up on the details, you know, see how the land lies. Literally. Still, who knows,’ he said with a smile that came swiftly and did not reach his eyes. ‘We might go there one day. When Beatrice is older.’

  She instinctively knew that wasn’t the reason why he’d been reading the book, but she wouldn’t press him. He’d been more secretive than usual, lately; this was just one more step to convince her that something very special was going on. The fear still prickled her skin, making her feel as though she’d been plunged into icy water. Needing to feel warm and needing his strength, she flung her arms around his neck. ‘Michael. Hold me. Tightly! As tightly as you can.’

  ‘Hey!’ Although taken by surprise, he recovered quickly, his hands running up and down her back before he wrapped his arms around her.

  She leaned her head against his chest, closing her eyes as she listened to the sound of his heart thudding against her ear.

  She clutched his upper arms tightly. ‘Promise you’ll take extra special care of yourself. Promise me!’

  His lips brushed her hair. ‘How could I refuse?’

  Michael had closed his eyes, silently praying that he would survive the dangerous mission in a few weeks’ time. The heights they were required to fly at were ridiculously low. No matter what anyone did to reassure him, he suspected the casualties would be high, not that the man with the codename Geoff seemed aware of that fact. The professor – he couldn’t be anything else – was adamant that his bouncing bomb would work. It was just a case of delivering it to the right depth and the right distance, he’d assured them. As yet they had not been told the probable target, but Michael had guessed that it was over a stretch of water with a similar layout to Derwent Water, the area they’d been practising over.

  ‘Do you have to go on this mission?’

  Michael remained silent until he could find the guts to lie, which was all his reassurance would be. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.’

  He couldn’t tell her anything, let alone the worst bit: that no matter how skilful their flying, they also needed the right night, as little enemy flak as possible, and an enormous amount of luck.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Gates children tumbled out of the door of their cottage wearing the best clothes they had, all hand-me-downs from other families in the village. Baggy coats and cardigans of ill-matched colours were coupled with knitted balaclavas for the boys and berets for the girls. Even their hats looked too big for them – as a consequence most were held on with thin scarves or string and fastened under the chin. All of them were carrying scruffy-looking canvas satchels or brown paper carrier bags containing the requisite clothing for their time on the other side of the River Severn.

  Ruby had arranged for the children to eat a hearty breakfast at the bakery before somebody from the US base arrived with the necessary transport. Feeling sorry for the Gates kids, the villagers had donated eggs, bacon and cheese. Although everyone was on rations, Ruby had persuaded a lot of people to give a little – and a little, certainly in this case, added up to quite a lot.

  Stan had marvelled at Ruby’s power of persuasion.

  ‘I just stated the facts. That’s what the army does too. Declan did the same with the supplies people at the base. They’ve been amazing.’

  Stan admitted
he was impressed. ‘I take my hat off to them all.’

  ‘That’s the way Declan is. He’s a generous guy, and before you read anything between the lines again, we just enjoy each other’s company. We’re not in love, Dad,’ she said with a sidelong smile. ‘One member of the family marrying a man from the other side of the Atlantic is quite enough, don’t you think?’

  She refrained from saying anything about her fears that Declan was smitten by her young cousin. She might be wrong, so for the time being at least it was best to say nothing.

  For his own part, reference to Mary, her sister, made Stan wonder how long it would be before she moved to Canada with Michael. He nodded sadly as he tousled his grandson’s hair. Young Charlie was enjoying the company of the Gates children, watching as they cleared the porridge and the villagers’ bacon and egg rations from the table, before attacking the homemade jams and preserves, liberally spreading it on slices of toast already smothered with margarine.

  Ruby had drawn the line at giving the kids their butter ration, predicting rightly that they wouldn’t notice the difference once the toast was piled with jam.

  The smell of freshly made loaves of bread being piled on to the shelves persuaded the kids to eat more than they should have. Ruby worried they would be sick if they went on the way they were going. ‘Perhaps I should call a halt.’

  Stan told her not to. ‘They’ve been scrabbling about for food since their mother’s been ill. Let them eat what they want.’ The sight of so many cheery faces tucking into breakfast with gusto bucked him up no end, and even young Charlie joined in, cramming a crust of jammy bread into his mouth.

  A loud honking on an army transport horn sounded from outside. Ruby, who was serving in the shop for the day, saw it pull up. ‘It’s here,’ she shouted over her shoulder.

  Frances had been looking forward to her visit to the forest and shepherded the children out, though not before she had made sure everyone had been to the lavatory.

  ‘Right! Everyone get your gas masks. Those of you with carrier bags can carry them too. I’ll take that,’ she said to one little girl who was struggling with a bulging carrier bag.

  The children followed her out, chattering and wiping away the jam they had smeared around their mouths.

  Ruby followed behind Frances while her father stood waving by the door.

  ‘Now you’re sure you’ll be all right?’ he asked Frances. She looked happy enough and, thank God, she hadn’t mentioned anything about finding her mother while waiting for the trip to come together. It had taken quite a lot longer than they’d imagined. Perhaps she had already changed her mind.

  Frances told him she would be fine before doing a swift head count of her charges.

  ‘I just want to make sure that I have the same number of children at the end of the journey as I do at the beginning.’

  She noticed one of the Gates boys wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Peter, isn’t it?’

  ‘Paul,’ came the shouted reply.

  ‘Right. Do you have a handkerchief?’

  He shook his head.

  Frances sighed. She’d never expected this to be easy, but neither had she expected the whole exercise to make her feel so happy. She went back to counting and reeling off their names.

  ‘Paul, Patricia, Ellen and Maggie, and Patrick?’

  The boy shook his head. ‘Lancelot. My name’s Sir Lancelot.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. It’s Patrick.’

  ‘No. I’m Sir Lancelot!’ The smallest boy was adamant that he’d been named after a knight of the Round Table.

  Frances exchanged a brief glance with Ruby and sighed. ‘Okay. Be Sir Lancelot if you like, but just get in the back of the truck here. Unfortunately, we can’t supply you with a horse.’

  The driver’s door of the small truck, a Jeep with a canvas-covered rear, opened and the driver stepped out. ‘Here. Let me help you kids get in.’

  Ruby was taken aback. ‘Declan! You didn’t say you’d be driving.’

  Frances stared. She hadn’t expected it to be Ruby’s friend Declan either.

  Declan shrugged in that casual, obliging way of his. His uniform looked to be newly pressed, and his boots shone to within an inch of their lives, as if he was going on parade or somewhere special, not shepherding a bunch of evacuees.

  ‘There was nobody else. The kids need help, so me and Uncle Sam are giving it. All I need is for somebody to show me how to get there!’

  Stan Sweet shook the American’s hand. ‘Frances knows the way.’

  Dr Foster had also dropped by. He too took Declan’s hand in both of his and gave it a hefty shake. ‘Glad to hear it. We really appreciate this.’

  ‘No problem, Doc. Happy to oblige.’

  Frances couldn’t help but be drawn to Declan’s smile. It was the kind of smile that spoke a whole volume without the need for words. She had the impression that it was for her alone. That, and the roguish look in his eyes. She blushed.

  Ruby was alarmed when she saw who was driving. If she could have called it off, she would have, though that was impossible. Everyone would think her mad and want to know a reason why. She was loath to do that. Nothing had happened between Declan and her cousin, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t. Was she the only one who could sense the attraction between them, or was she just imaging things? She didn’t think so.

  Frances made a big effort to look unconcerned, as though she really didn’t care much that she would be travelling for hours with a man who puzzled and unnerved her. She also had a sneaking suspicion that he had purposely arranged to undertake this journey, not only out of the kindness of his heart. She could feel something radiating from him, something that made her tingle from the top of her head to the tips of her toes; something she could not ignore.

  ‘We’d better get going,’ she said, trying not to sound flustered.

  ‘Sure. I understand we’ve got a ferry to catch.’

  Although his smile was controlled, she almost flinched at the challenging look in his eyes.

  Ruby opened her mouth, about to say that they might not be able to get on it. The transportation of war commodities and military personnel had priority.

  Uncle Stan voiced the possibility before she did.

  Declan was a picture of confidence. ‘No need to concern yourself, sir. The army’s made arrangements for us to be taken aboard. We are priority transport.’

  Frances felt Ruby’s eyes on her. Then Ruby was pulling her to one side, out of earshot of everybody else. ‘Frances, I think it might be better if you serve in the shop today and I go with the children.’

  Frances eyed her accusingly. ‘My, my! Are you that jealous?’

  Ruby winced at the comment and the defiance in her cousin’s eyes. ‘No. Of course I’m not,’ she hissed, keeping her voice low. ‘It’s just that … well, a man like Declan …’

  ‘I can cope with Declan. Anyway, I know the way there better than you do. I know the forest and I know Ada. I want to see her. I have to see her. I’m going.’

  Ruby leaned closer. ‘Sweetie, you don’t understand. Declan is not like one of the boys you’re used to, he’s a man …’

  Frances could barely keep her temper under control. ‘What you are saying is that he’s your man. You want him for yourself!’

  ‘No,’ Ruby hissed back. ‘That’s not it at all. He’s a man, Frances, and you’re only a child!’

  Frances shrugged off her hand, her manner indignant. ‘I am not a child!’

  ‘Frances, that isn’t exactly what I meant to say!’

  Declan O’Malley and the Jeep were surrounded by children. Fuming at being told she was still a child, Frances flounced away from her cousin. The bold smile she gave Declan was returned just as broadly.

  ‘Are we all ready?’ She beamed up at him, no longer caring what anyone might think. Ruby might not want Declan for herself, but she was clearly jealous because Declan preferred her. That’s all there was to it.

  ‘Come on, you kids
. Here’s the supplies for the journey.’ He proceeded to hand out bars of chocolate into outstretched hands. Squeals of delight erupted from all concerned. The kids had already been furnished with rucksacks containing thickly cut sandwiches spread with margarine and jam, and a slice of cake made by Stan Sweet and an apple. The bars of chocolate disappeared into hungry mouths, though not before Ruby had instructed them to thank Declan.

  Mouths full of chocolate, they all mumbled a muted thanks.

  ‘You should have saved the chocolate for the journey,’ Ruby remonstrated. Her glare was enough to silence Hitler, but Declan ignored her. He was where he wanted to be, and despite Ruby’s cross features, he was enjoying himself.

  Deliberately playing to the crowd, both adults and children, he picked up a box from the vehicle’s dashboard and waved it around. ‘Like any professional army out on manoeuvres, I brought reinforcements.’ He handed out more chocolate bars to the children and threw a few more to the adults watching the event.

  ‘Very clever of you, Captain,’ Ruby said. ‘Just don’t make them sick. The River Severn can be very choppy.’

  Frances laughed dismissively, though she knew Ruby was right. The River Severn that divided most of Wales from England could be quite choppy when the wind was blowing against the tide, and the tide itself was the second highest in the world. Frances had learned that at school, but she wasn’t thinking about it at this moment in time. Still seething at being called a child, she resolved to be good company for Declan and for the children.

  ‘So let’s get going,’ said Declan. His first job was to help Frances into the front seat of the Jeep. The warmth of his hand on her elbow sent a bolt of electricity up her arm.

  I will not blush, she thought to herself. I will act like a grown-up. I am no longer a child, after all.

  After thanking him, she settled herself in the front seat, purposefully looking ahead through the windscreen, anything rather than stare at his chiselled features. Working out exactly how she felt about Declan wasn’t easy; all she did know was that she felt comfortable if not entirely safe in his company.