Wings of the Morning

by Beryl Matthews

  Annie bristled. ‘I object to your tone of voice, and I certainly don’t like being referred to in that rude way.’

  Sam held his hands up in surrender. ‘I’m sorry, my English has let me down. I should have said “young woman”.’

  She couldn’t decide if she liked this man or not. One minute he was friendly and easygoing, and the next probing and insulting. ‘You’re a liar, Sam whatever your name is, because your English is as good as mine.’

  He sat down again, his expression grim. ‘This is a very dangerous business, and I don’t like any of my operatives to be distracted by personal problems.’

  She looked at him in amazement. ‘If that’s true, then why did you send Jack back when his two children are missing? That is a monumental personal problem, surely?’

  ‘I didn’t have any choice, I believe Jack is man enough to handle the situation and not let it interfere with the task he has to do.’ He ran a hand through his hair in an agitated manner. ‘I didn’t want to send him, but he’s the only one who can carry out this mission. Jack understood that.’

  ‘But you didn’t want him involved in a romantic attachment outside of his marriage?’ she asked, not prepared to let the subject drop.

  ‘That’s right. Jack’s marriage was finished a long time ago, and I didn’t want him to fall in love with you.’ Sam pulled a rueful face. ‘Love scrambles the thinking process and that can have dire consequences when you’re behind enemy lines.’

  ‘I assure you that there is nothing romantic or sexual between us, and I know it sounds corny, but we really are only friends.’

  Sam stood up again. ‘That’s what he told me. I think he could fall in love with you quite easily, but he’s got too much self-discipline to let that happen. However, I did agree to you becoming his primary contact because I believe it will give him some comfort at this difficult time to know you are here for him.’

  ‘Thank you, Sam.’ Annie felt slightly better now. At least Sam had explained, and she could see what a difficult decision it had been for him to send Jack back to France. This was the first time she’d seen uncertainty in Sam’s eyes. If anything happened to Jack he wasn’t going to be able to forgive himself.

  *

  It was a week later when Sam called her into his office. Before each contact with Jack she’d been praying to have some news for him about his children, but nothing had come through and hope was now fading.

  ‘I’ve got some good news and some bad news,’ he told her. ‘They’ve just found a lifeboat and Jack’s elder son, Steven, is alive, but the younger, Peter, has been confirmed dead.’

  Annie put a hand over her heart and gave a ragged sigh. ‘Well, at least one has survived; that is bound to give Jack some comfort. Is the boy all right?’

  ‘He’s been in that small boat for many days but I’m told he has come through the ordeal well.’

  ‘He has some of his father’s strength of character, I expect,’ she remarked sadly. Annie glanced at her watch. ‘He’ll be transmitting in half an hour. I’ll tell him then.’

  ‘Keep it short,’ Sam warned. ‘You know he mustn’t stay on too long. Don’t let him chatter or ask questions.’

  ‘I won’t, I know the danger.’

  In fact, they needn’t have worried. Jack was a trained professional and took the brief news without comment, except for two extra words at the end of his message – thank you.

  11

  December 1940

  Annie sat cross-legged on the bunk and eagerly opened the first letter. It was from Paul.

  ‘My darling, I’m being moved to the Midlands for a while to give our squadron a rest. I was hoping for a spot of leave over Christmas so I could see you, but couldn’t wangle it, I’m afraid. Still, I’m sure you’ll have a great time with your family, and Reid’s lot are also being rested, so no doubt we’ll be able to amuse ourselves!’

  Annie could almost hear his infectious laugh as she read the rest of the letter and put it back in the envelope. She was glad the two of them were being given a break because they had been in the front line for weeks without a rest. Paul never told her anything about the fighting, of course, but she heard stories and worried.

  The next letter was from her mother and Wally, and his account of the exploits of the Home Guard had her in fits of laughter. Rose had added a footnote giving her all the news about the children, and how George was having the time of his life with them in Wales. Her sister Rose wasn’t very forthcoming about her own activities but Annie knew she was in London almost every night. It frightened her to think what danger she was in. However, when her strong-minded sister made up her mind to do something then no one could sway her, not even George, who was doing his best to get her out of the firing line. Their rows were explosive, her mother and Wally had told her. Annie gave a sigh and looked at her other letters. There were hastily scribbled notes from her brothers Charlie and Will. Charlie didn’t say much, except to rave about how much he loved being an air mechanic. She knew he was at Tangmere and the airfields had taken a pounding during the summer but he had come through it unscathed, much to their relief. Will’s letter had been written weeks ago; with the strict censorship there was nothing to say where he was. The only one who wasn’t mentioned was Bill, and that was because they had no idea where he was. News coming from those at sea was sketchy, and letters few and far between. Separation from loved ones was a fact of life all families were dealing with. With a sigh she put the letters in her bag, hoping she would be lucky enough to see some of them over the holiday.

  Jean came in the hut then, all ready for her leave. ‘See you in the new year, Annie.’

  Annie gave her a hug, knowing she was going to London. ‘You dodge those bombs.’

  Jean pulled a face. ‘I expect we’ll spend quite a bit of time down the tube stations. Mum says it’s quite lively there.’

  After Jean had left Annie finished packing, sped over to Sam’s office, and knocked on the door.

  ‘Come.’

  ‘I’m just about to go,’ she told him. ‘Thank you for arranging ten days’ leave for me.’

  ‘You’ve earned it.’ He smiled. ‘Have a happy Christmas, Annie, and don’t worry about Jack, I’ll look after him for you.’

  She nodded, her expression sad. ‘I wish it had been possible to bring him home so he could see his son.’

  ‘So do I.’ Sam twirled a pen around in his fingers. ‘But it would have been too dangerous to move him at the moment.’

  Annie was well aware of the peril Jack Graham was in, and wished with all her heart that he were back in this country.

  ‘Don’t look so sad,’ he reprimanded. ‘Jack knows what he’s doing. Now, forget everything and enjoy yourself.’

  It had been a cold journey as the trains were not heated, and Annie was grateful to get a lift from Pontypool station from a friendly local vicar. When he dropped her by the gate with the words The Haven painted on it, she stood looking at the house. George and Bill had certainly picked a beautiful place. There was a gravel path leading up to a solid two-storey house, built in a warm beige stone. It had four bedrooms, she’d been told, with room downstairs to fit in extra beds when needed. On the left was the neighbour’s farm with a paddock between. A couple of donkeys munched hay in the doorway of their stable. They looked up briefly as she walked by, then went back to their food. At the back was a fairly large garden where the flowerbeds had been taken over and were now used for growing vegetables. Wally and George were turning into enthusiastic gardeners and were already producing a good supply of things to eat. There was a chicken run at the end of the garden, next to a derelict brick building that had probably been a stable at some time. She stood for a moment savouring the peace; she was going to enjoy coming here now and again.

  ‘Auntie Annie!’ Kate hurtled towards her as soon as she arrived. ‘Come and see my puppy.’

  She allowed herself to be towed towards the kitchen by her excited niece, only having time to toss her kit into th
e corner of the hall.

  Kate opened the door and peered in, then whispered, ‘Is he still asleep, Mummy?’

  ‘Yes.’ Rose saw Annie and smiled. ‘You found us all right, then.’

  ‘Managed to get a lift from the station,’ she told her sister, trying to control a chuckle. ‘The Reverend Jenkins, he said his name was, and he seems to know you.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Rose filled the kettle and put it on the stove. ‘We’ve had a couple of lively discussions.’

  Annie burst out laughing, knowing her sister’s discussions well. ‘I’ll bet you have. Does he know the Bible as well as you?’

  ‘Just about, but like a lot of people, he takes it far too literally.’

  ‘You mean you disagree on interpretation?’

  Rose’s grin spread. ‘Of course, I’ve always believed that there’s a golden thread running through the Bible, but like all things of value you have to dig for it.’

  Annie felt a tug at her sleeve, and looked down at Kate, who had her finger to her lips.

  ‘You’ll wake Pirate,’ she scolded.

  ‘Sorry.’ Annie knelt down to examine the bundle curled up in a box by the old black-leaded cooking range. ‘He’s beautiful,’ she whispered, ‘but why do you call him Pirate?’

  ‘Because he’s got a black patch over one eye.’ Kate carefully lifted his tail out of the way so Annie could see the animal’s face.

  The puppy opened one eye, then two, and fastened his gaze on the object of his undying love, and then he clambered to his feet, tail wagging frantically, and jumped on to Kate’s lap. The little girl giggled in delight as she tried to ward off an enthusiastic wet tongue. Then she tore out of the kitchen with the puppy in hot pursuit.

  ‘How long have you got?’ Rose asked when they were alone.

  ‘Ten days. I don’t have to report back until the 2nd of January.’

  ‘That’s wonderful. We’ve seen so little of you,’ Rose remarked.

  ‘And I understand from George that the family hasn’t seen much of you either,’ Annie pointed out.

  ‘Ah, been telling tales, has he?’ Rose didn’t seem at all worried by this.

  ‘Tell me what it’s like in London, Rose.’ Annie settled down at the kitchen table and waited. If she could find out exactly what her sister was involved in, then perhaps she might not worry quite so much about her.

  ‘It’s terrible.’ Rose shook her head in despair. ‘The tube stations are packed with families, all sleeping on the platforms, but at least they’re fairly safe down there. Up in the streets it’s bedlam. I’ve never seen such fires and those firemen are bloody brave.’

  ‘And what exactly do you do?’ Annie prompted when her sister looked as if she wasn’t going to say anything else.

  ‘Anything I can, but most of the time I drive an ambulance taking the injured to hospital or the dead to mortuaries. Quite often we can’t get the vehicles through the rubble and when that happens I get out and start digging for survivors or help to clear the road. It’s dangerous, but at least I feel as if I’m doing something useful.’

  Annie felt cold when she pictured the scenes her sister had described, and knew that the ‘something useful’ was an understatement.

  Their conversation was brought to a halt when the kitchen door burst open and James rushed in, throwing his school bag on to a chair in the corner.

  ‘Auntie Annie,’ he exclaimed in delight, ‘are you staying for Christmas?’

  She nodded and hugged her nephew, much to his discomfort. ‘My goodness, you’ve grown.’

  ‘I’m going to be as tall as Dad.’ He straightened up proudly, and then left them to go up to his room.

  ‘They’ve really changed since I saw them last. Are they happy here?’

  ‘Very, and Dad loves having them,’ Rose told her.

  ‘Oh where is George, by the way?’

  ‘Gone to get a Christmas tree and he’s taken Mum and Wally with him.’

  ‘Do you know if Bill can get home over Christmas?’ Annie asked, knowing there was probably little hope of that happening.

  ‘I doubt it, I haven’t heard from him.’ Rose began to peel the potatoes for dinner. ‘We don’t know if Will or Charlie will manage to get here, either, but we are so pleased you could make it.’

  At that moment, there was a commotion in the hall, and they went out to investigate. George and Wally were struggling to get a huge tree through the door with Marj giving them the benefit of her advice. It had become stuck and there was much cursing and swearing going on.

  ‘Good heavens, Dad, couldn’t you find one smaller than that?’ Rose reprimanded as she pitched in to help release one of the branches and haul it into the lounge.

  ‘There!’ George stood back and admired it when it was safely in the corner of the room. ‘That’s perfect.’

  Kate and James had arrived as they were struggling with the enormous tree, and were waiting patiently with the box of decorations. Everyone joined in the fun of dressing the tree, even the puppy and the cat.

  An hour later, Rose called out, ‘Leave that now. Dinner’s ready.’

  They all tumbled into the dining room, chatting and laughing, already in the holiday mood, in spite of the war. Rose was a master at producing meals out of very little and her cooking was always a treat. Tonight it was slices of spam fried in a light batter, and served with fresh vegetables grown in their own garden. The chickens provided a few precious eggs but these were mostly given to the children.

  Annie was listening to James regaling them with tales about his school, which he seemed to love. In the background she could hear George trying, vigorously, to persuade Rose that her place was with the children and she shouldn’t go back to London after the holiday.

  ‘The children are safe and happy with you here, Dad,’ she told him. ‘I’ve got to do something to help the poor old Londoners. I was born and bred there and I still care what happens to it.’

  George’s sigh was resigned. ‘I know, Rose, but I worry about you.’

  The discussion ended when Charlie strode in the room and threw his kitbag on the floor so he could greet everyone. Marj and Wally were overjoyed to have one of their sons home for Christmas. Although Wally was their stepfather the Webster children now all looked upon him as a father. A place was made for Charlie at the table, and a plate heaped with food was quickly placed in front of him.

  ‘How long have you got?’ Rose asked her brother, smiling in delight.

  ‘A whole week.’ Charlie attacked his meal with obvious pleasure. ‘I’ve managed to scrounge a few tins of food and I’m looking forward to some good home cooking for a change.’

  ‘I only had a letter from you this morning,’ Annie told him. ‘I thought you couldn’t have any leave?’

  ‘Some of the pilots are being given a well-earned rest; the poor blighters are exhausted. The station commander said I was overdue for some leave, so here I am.’

  After dinner George produced a precious bottle of whisky to toast Charlie’s unexpected and very welcome arrival. Charlie savoured a mouthful of whisky, then smiled in amusement as he watched the children opening his kitbag.

  ‘We’ll do your unpacking for you, Uncle Charlie,’ James told him, smothering a giggle as Kate let out a whoop of delight and held up two oranges. Their Uncle Charlie was a great favourite and he always managed to bring a few treats with him.

  ‘Good Lord, Charlie, where did you get those?’ Wally asked. They were a very rare luxury indeed.

  ‘I won them in a game of cards.’ He smiled at the children. ‘They’re for you.’

  Kate handed one to James and said seriously, ‘I think we should save them for Christmas Day and we can all have a bit.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ Marj told them with approval.

  ‘Do you want an egg for breakfast, Kate?’ Rose asked her daughter the next morning.

  The little girl looked up from her task of feeding the animals and nodded. ‘Boiled please, Mummy, with a nice runny mi
ddle.’

  ‘Aren’t we lucky to have our own chickens,’ George said, buttering a slice of bread and cutting it into thin strips. ‘With soldiers, sweetheart?’

  Kate nodded, washed her hands, and then sat at the table. She tackled her egg with obvious enjoyment, dipping the bread soldiers into the yolk, then scraping it out and tipping the shell upside down in the egg cup, making it look like a whole egg again. Then she pushed it towards her grandfather.

  ‘You can have my egg, Grandpa,’ she told him with a straight face, then laughed in delight as he tapped the top and it crumbled. ‘Fooled you! Did you finish the tree?’

  He nodded. ‘And we’ve put the presents round it.’

  The girl slipped off her chair and headed for the lounge. Rose and Annie went with her, followed by the rest of the family.

  They watched as Kate checked all the names on the parcels. It wasn’t easy to find presents these days for there was so little in the shops. Most of the gifts for this Christmas had been hand-made.

  Annie knew that George had been clearing out his storeroom in the London house and had found a train set for James; Wally had been working away in the shed making a doll’s cot for Kate.

  ‘No peeking,’ George teased, but she didn’t take any notice.

  ‘There aren’t enough here for Daddy,’ she told them with an outraged expression, as she ran over to the bureau and collected her piggy bank.

  Annie watched her niece with fascination as she tipped some coins on the floor and started to count them.

  ‘How much have I got, Mummy?’ she asked, chewing her lip in concentration.

  ‘Three and sixpence.’

  ‘Hmm. That’s not much.’

  ‘What do you want it for?’ Rose asked.

  ‘I’m going to get a present for Daddy. He hasn’t got enough parcels.’ She gave everyone an accusing look, and then counted her money again.

  ‘That’s because we’ve sent them on to him,’ Rose pointed out patiently. ‘They’ll be delivered to his ship.’

  Kate stood up and gave everyone a beatific smile. ‘He might come home and I want to buy him something special.’