A Wartime Friend

by Lizzie Lane

  ‘Direct hit three houses along, but once one went, them houses either side went with it. Nothing but rubble now.’

  ‘I left me washing on the line. New drawers and petticoat I made from some parachute silk somebody gave me. No good now, they ain’t. Shame. I was really looking forward to wearing something soft next to me skin.’

  They sounded so blasé about losing everything, yet Meg couldn’t find it in herself to feel that way. She was angry and bitter that her house was gone. How could they be so accepting of destroyed homes and so glibly amused by lost underwear. There was nothing amusing about any of it! Nothing at all!

  One of the women caught her looking.

  ‘There’s some clothes for the taking over there, luv.’ She pointed to a spot roughly halfway down the hall. ‘Take what you like. It’s all free. Washroom and lav is just behind it.’

  ‘You might want to swill off the stink of smoke and get yerself tidy, luv,’ said a woman with her top two front teeth missing, a cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth and curlers sticking out from beneath the turban on her head. Four or five children were creating havoc around her. ‘Not that I’m saying you stinks any different than anybody else …’

  Meg headed for the very heart of the church hall. Her face was on fire. Never in all her life had she been referred to in such a way. Stink – she who was so meticulous about the cleanliness of her home and her body! The statement coming from a woman with curlers in her hair and no front teeth made it even worse.

  There were four long racks of women’s and children’s clothes, and a shorter rack for men’s clothing. Ashamed of how she looked, she rummaged furiously among the coats, dresses, blouses, skirts and hats, annoying some other women there who declared she was jumping the queue.

  Meg ignored them. Her first choice was a burgundy felt hat with a large brim, big enough to hide her scorched hair. She also found a dress of similar colour scattered with tiny yellow diamond shapes plus a grey checked coat. The few bits of underwear she eyed with contempt, and she took a cursory glance of the shoes before deciding that overall she had what she needed to see her through until her own clothes had been laundered.

  The hand basin in the toilets was very small, but she did her best with a small bar of soap, a facecloth and a hand towel given her by a WVS woman. After that she ate some stew brought in by the ladies of the WVS, then went to bed. She’d expected to lie awake all night but instead fell into a fitful sleep. In her dreams she could hear her hair sizzling as the flames took hold. In her dreams she heard Lily screaming.

  When she got to the hospital the next morning she was surprised to see that ambulances were still coming and going and stretchers were still being unloaded. Skirting the heaving melee of embattled medical staff and groaning patients, she made her way to Lily’s bed. The smell of carbolic was strong and made her feel sick.

  ‘And where do you think you’re going?’ The nurse had an officious twang to her voice.

  ‘To see my daughter,’ snapped Meg, her jaw hurting with the effort of keeping her temper.

  ‘I’ll see if the doctor …’

  Meg swept past her. ‘Throw me out if you dare!’

  The nurse pursed her lips. She was used to patients and visitors respecting hospital rules and regulations. In a huff, she went off to fetch the doctor who wasn’t too far along on his morning rounds.

  Doctor Williams recognised Meg at once. ‘Give it time,’ he told her. ‘She’s been traumatised. Her mind is blocking out torturous memories. I hear you were both lucky to escape,’ he added gently.

  Meg, the brim of her new hat pulled tightly down on one side to hide her singed hair, nodded. ‘She had a traumatic time before the bombing. Not here. Lily’s not her real name. We don’t know what that is. She was rescued from occupied France, found wandering about the countryside with nothing but a dog for company.’

  ‘Really?’ Doctor Williams had pale skin and ginger eyebrows, which arched upwards. It worried him to learn that the child had had more than one traumatic encounter. He needed to probe further. ‘Can you tell me any more about that period in her life?’

  Meg tried to recall everything her husband had told her about Lily’s past. ‘There were some yellow stitches left in the lapel of her coat. We think she once wore a Star of David.’

  ‘Jewish!’ Doctor Williams frowned. He didn’t like what he’d been told. For a child to have suffered one traumatic experience was bad enough, but for Lily to have suffered more than one, perhaps even one more significant than escaping a burning house, made matters even worse.

  ‘Any moments of hysteria?’

  Meg thought of the time they’d spent trapped in the understairs cupboard. ‘Yes. We were trapped in a small space under the stairs. She didn’t stop screaming. I had to hit her.’ She looked guiltily down at the floor.

  ‘Any incidences of bed wetting?’

  Meg shook her head and wrinkled her nose. The thought of bedwetting was almost offensive. Thankfully Lily had never done that.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Nightmares?’

  Meg nodded. ‘Yes. She wakes up screaming.’

  ‘Has she ever told you what the dreams are about?’

  ‘Yes. Something about being on a train going to Salzburg but it turns out not to be going there at all. Instead it goes to the butchers and everyone gets cut into pieces.’

  Again the arched eyebrows. ‘Butchers? The poor child. I’m not a psychiatrist, but from what I do know it sounds as though the nightmare is a reflection on some past experience.’ He looked away for a moment as though unwilling for her to see his expression, reflecting on the reports he’d heard. ‘Something to do with blood and death, obviously.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Meg frowned then shook her head. ‘We know nothing of what she went through before she was found. She was in a terrible condition. It got less as time went by but what with this happening …’

  Suddenly realising what she’d been saying, she looked up at him sharply. ‘You know now then from what I’ve said that she isn’t really my daughter. Not my natural daughter. My husband and I took her in.’ She stopped short before she could hint at the kind of job her husband did and how exactly Lily came to live with them. His were mainly secret missions and he’d warned her not to divulge too much to anyone. ‘Tell them I’m with Bomber Command,’ he’d said.

  ‘I’ve tried to do my best for her,’ she said, looking the doctor directly in the eye. ‘I wish I could have spared her this.’

  He patted Meg’s shoulder in an act of reassurance. ‘I’m sure you’ve done all you could. Have courage and garner hope. We will do everything we can.’

  In the moments of respite from the side of Lily’s bed, Meg marched up and down to the main entrance and back, willing Ray to be there, to take them both in his arms and tell her he’d found them a grand house in Pimlico, Hammersmith, Chelsea, or anywhere they could find a place to call home. He’d been summoned from the base, though it took some days for him to make his way to London. Eventually he arrived, a solid, safe figure in air force blue, his cap parked jauntily on the back of his head, like a signal that he was off duty.

  There was a strained smile on his face. Like her, he hadn’t slept in quite a while, though for different reasons. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that his plane had been damaged and he hadn’t been able to take off from France straightaway. If it hadn’t been for the Resistance … He felt mixed emotions about being trapped there. It was as though up until that moment he’d only been playing at fighting the enemy. A couple of days with that lot and he finally realised what being a patriot was all about.

  Before he had a chance to kiss her, Meg flung herself into his arms and looked up at him pleadingly. ‘It was a direct hit,’ she said to him, guilt riding in her eyes. ‘Even if we’d gone to the shelter …’

  He placed a finger on her lips. ‘It landed at the back of the house. There’s a big hole where the shelter used to be.’

  Her eyes widen
ed. ‘Oh my God!’

  ‘I went round there to take a look. You’ve both been very lucky,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what I would have done if anything had happened to you.’

  His arms performed a pincer-like hug that took her by surprise. She wore a headscarf instead of her broad-brimmed hat, carefully winding it around her head in order to hide her damaged hair. In her surprise the headscarf fell back on to her shoulders.

  Ray’s jaw dropped.

  ‘Dear God,’ he said, his eyes moist with pity as he gently fingered the scorched stubble on one side of her head.

  Meg looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. ‘My lovely hair.’

  Ray smiled and gave her another, gentler and reassuring hug. ‘Never mind. It’ll grow again.’

  A nurse interrupted the sweet moment to tell them they could see Lily soon. ‘The doctor is with her.’

  The hospital corridor was crowded with those injured and those awaiting news of injured loved ones. Ray managed to find Meg a chair. ‘The last one,’ he said. ‘Never mind. I’m a growing lad.’

  Meg had retied the headscarf so that her singed hair was hidden. She hung her head. ‘Ray, I am so afraid. Sometimes I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t. I can’t believe that everything we worked for is gone up in smoke. As for Lily, I am really scared. She was doing so well and then this happened.’ She looked up at him. He winced when he saw her pain-filled eyes.

  ‘I know what you’re saying, but try not to worry.’

  ‘I can’t help it. Lily hasn’t improved. She’s not uttered a single word.’

  ‘It happens,’ said Ray. Inside he felt as scared as she did. For her sake he wouldn’t let it show.

  Meg got out a handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘I still can’t help feeling that it was all my fault.’

  Ray bent down so his face was level with hers. ‘We have to believe what the doctors are saying is right. Give her time to get over it …’

  ‘But Ray, she was already getting over her experiences in France and as you said yourself, we don’t know half and quarter of what she went through over there. But she was improving. Until this happened!’

  ‘They say all is fair in love and war but I don’t think it is. War isn’t fair to anyone. There are always innocent victims. As long as there are wars there will be victims.’ His expression clouded. ‘We have to help Lily get over it, Meg, however long it takes.’

  Meg sniffed into her handkerchief. ‘I hope she does get over it, even if it means she remembers who she is and her relatives come to claim her.’

  ‘That’s good to hear. We need to think carefully about what to do next. We need to work out what’s best for everybody – whatever happens.’

  They followed the nurse to the children’s ward hand in hand, like a courting couple fearing to face what lay ahead but finding strength in each other’s touch. The sight of the ward was heartbreaking. Small figures, some with bandaged limbs, others barely able to see on account of their bandaged heads, lay against white pillows. The whole ward would have been blindingly white if it wasn’t for green-curtained screens and nurses in dark blue uniforms relieved only with white aprons and starched headdresses.

  Lily’s bed was at the far end of the ward next to a large window. The view was uninteresting, not that Lily was aware of it. Her eyes were closed, her face pale against the pillow.

  Meg heard Ray’s intake of breath. She understood. After all it was the first time he had seen the child in this state. It still hit her badly to see Lily lying there so still and pale. Ray had been reticent when she’d asked him to relate how it had been when he’d found her. She’d put it down to shock and also the secret nature of his work. Sometimes she sensed there was something else he wasn’t telling her but didn’t press him. Ray was a man in control of his thoughts and feelings. He would only share what was strictly necessary.

  He smoothed Lily’s hair away from her forehead. ‘I’m glad I do what I do. I don’t think I could drop bombs. Up there at a great height and all those people out of sight down below.’

  Meg touched his arm. ‘You were her knight in shining armour. You saved your loyal maiden on the first occasion. We have to fight for her again now.’

  Ray said nothing but Meg sensed he was experiencing an internal battle. He loved what he did, and whatever he said about the war he loved the excitement, the living in a different world away from her and the life she’d thought they both wanted. However, she could feel his guilt. He’d been away while they’d been in danger. He hadn’t been there with them and, despite all his fine words about war, it all went back to being together and looking out for each other. Nothing else mattered – or at least it never used to; now she wasn’t quite so sure.

  The nurse spoke gently. ‘She’s been asleep for quite a while. It won’t hurt her if you wake her up. She has to have her supper shortly. We have a strict timetable here despite the disruptions.’

  Meg wondered if the disruptions she referred to applied to them.

  Ray was staring at Lily, his own face racked with anxiety, his eyes clouded as though hiding his thoughts.

  ‘Go on, Ray. You wake her. The nurse said it would be all right.’

  Ray touched Lily’s cheek, leaned close and whispered her name. ‘Lily? It’s me, Mr Malin. Uncle Ray. Can you hear me?’

  Lily’s eyelids blinked open, flickering as she took in her surroundings and settled on the two faces in front of her. They were disappointed when she gave no sign of recognising them.

  Meg controlled the despair she was feeling. ‘She’s been in here for three days – or is it four? I’m losing track. Yet she doesn’t seem to know where she is. I hoped she would do by now.’

  ‘Are you going to say hello, Lily? Lily? Can you hear me?’

  Lily stared but she said nothing.

  Ray sighed.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Meg whispered on realising that he’d firmly believed Lily would recognise him and it hurt to see she had not.

  Ray straightened and turned away, his fingers twirling his cap. Blinking the tears from his eyes, he looked out of the window at the jumble of buildings that made up the hospital: the laundries, the sewing rooms and the places where things were stored. He saw a porter pushing along a trolley full of leg irons – false limbs for those who could no longer rely on their own – and felt empty, as though he hadn’t eaten for days.

  Her face a picture of sadness, Meg touched his shoulder. ‘We have to do something, Ray. She needs a home and some normality, not a hospital bed. I need to find us somewhere to live.’

  ‘I know.’

  The fact that he cared so much for the child touched Meg’s heart. He’d never had the same affinity for their lovely home as she had, but with Lily they were united. Feeling at one with his emotions, Meg raised her hand and stroked the nape of his neck.

  ‘A new home, Ray. Somehow or another. I feel so … so … lost.’

  Ray sighed and turned from the window. He’d seen enough people with missing limbs and damaged bodies. He made the effort to concentrate on what mattered at present.

  ‘I made enquiries about a place near the airfield. There’s nothing going at present. We’ve got foreign squadrons coming in and they’ve taken up all the rooms around every airfield in Lincolnshire. But you’re right. She needs to be home and leading a normal life.’

  ‘Perhaps we can find something further out of London,’ ventured Meg.

  Ray’s loud exclamation took her by surprise. ‘No! You will not stay in London. I absolutely forbid it.’

  Meg had been taken aback by his loud voice and fully expected that Lily might have reacted in a similar manner. Despite Ray raising his voice, Lily did not react. In fact, she seemed to be far away, blinking every so often in response to the light from the window.

  ‘London is my home.’

  ‘Not any longer.’

  ‘We can find something similar.’

  ‘Meg, thousands have moved out of London and into the country. Ask yourself wh
y. I’ll tell you. It’s because the countryside is safer. London has become a dangerous place.’

  The two of them stood by the window. Meg kept her voice low. ‘So what do we do? She isn’t going to be in here for ever. Regardless of whether she responds or not, they need the beds for the injured and I can’t continue to stay in the Methodist church hall. We both have to move on.’

  Ray looked thoughtful. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll think of something. In the meantime, let’s leave the doctors and nurses to do their job. Come on. I’m taking you away from all this.’

  She detected a spark of the old humour about him as he cupped her elbow and guided her out of the hospital.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘A hotel. I know just the place. You and me sleeping on a camp bed in a Methodist church wouldn’t be right. Much too public.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  The hotel was close enough to the hospital to be convenient but far enough away to attract servicemen and women on leave and in love – at least for the duration. Too expensive for commercial travellers and those needing accommodation while looking for work, in pre-war years it had accommodated middle-class people who travelled to London in cars rather than on the train. The reception area was rich in dark wood and red carpet. The brass bannister curving up with the staircase shone brightly, as did the bell they rang to attract the receptionist.

  ‘I feel guilty,’ Meg whispered. ‘I mean, leaving Lily back there in a hospital bed while we book in here.’

  Ray looked surprised. ‘I could make you feel even more guilty and sign us in as Mr and Mrs Smith. What do you think?’

  Meg felt the colour coming to her face.

  ‘Ray!’ She couldn’t help but smile as she tucked a piece of singed hair beneath her scarf. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘No. I know what you meant,’ he said softly. ‘You’re feeling guilty because you’re not sitting beside Lily’s bed. It’s not going to speed things up at all. Give her time, Meg.’ He paused, his look intense, his usually bright eyes almost desolate. ‘And give me some time. We have precious little of it together nowadays.’