A Wartime Friend

by Lizzie Lane

  Gladys shifted to put herself in line with the dog’s back leg. The bombing was momentarily forgotten as anxious eyes focused on the dog and the pub landlady. One woman whispered to her neighbour, ‘If she’s not careful, he’ll bite her.’

  ‘He wouldn’t dare,’ her neighbour whispered back. Those who heard smiled and nodded agreement. They all knew, some from experience, that Gladys Stenner, with her big arms and sharp tongue, was not a woman to cross.

  Soothed by the petting hands and softly spoken words, the dog seemed almost as though he were anaesthetised, his eyes half closed. Gently and very slowly, Gladys cut the wire, then laying the cutters to one side, prised it from where it had bitten into the dog’s flesh. Meg bit her bottom lip when she saw blood trickling into the dog’s fur. If only she’d taken him in, this might not have happened. Poor dog.

  ‘There, there,’ murmured Gladys once the wire had been removed and she was bathing the raw wound with a pad of wet cloth. A gasp of relief flowed like warm air in the stark confines of the cell. The dog heard it and opened his eyes. He wagged his tail, obviously glad it was all over.

  Gladys’s knees cracked as she got to her feet and flung the wire cutters back into the toolbox. ‘There. That’s him settled, though I don’t mind saying I’d like to get my hands on the poacher who laid the trap. Cruel bugger!’

  ‘Well done, Gladys.’ Everyone clapped and smiled.

  The dog heaved a big sigh then lifted his head, rubbing it against Lily’s sleeve and gazing up at her, gratitude shining in his eyes. Lily smiled and buried her face in the dog’s fur. Meg felt a great urge to pinch herself. In just a few hours, Lily had made more progress than she had in months and all thanks to the dog. They seemed so close, so fond of each other. It gave rise to a question.

  ‘Have you had Rudy all your life?’ Meg asked.

  Lily seemed to think about it before shaking her head. Her smile disappeared. The corners of her mouth were downturned and a look Meg could only describe as deep blackness came to her eyes.

  ‘So when did you meet him?’

  Lily looked confused. It was as though she was trying to remember, but something was stopping her.

  Gladys came back from putting the toolbox away, swiping at her forehead and shaking her head as the sounds of bombing continued. ‘Will it never end?’

  ‘At least it’s a fair way off.’

  ‘Definitely the airfield, not the village.’

  ‘Thank God!’

  Just as Cliff had surmised, the enemy was concentrating on the airfield. The next two hours in the cellar flew by. Meg was surprised just how jovial such a gathering could be. Women knitted while others talked, laughed and sang songs. Alice was taking it in turns with other mothers to read stories to the children. The atmosphere was a world away from the isolation under the stairs where she’d thought she’d be safe. In fact, it was almost possible to forget that an air raid was going on.

  The thin wail of the all-clear went unnoticed. It wasn’t appreciated that it was all over until the cellar door opened and Cliff, who’d stayed behind in the pub bar, appeared, his face wreathed in smiles. ‘The churchwarden’s sounded the all-clear. Sod the opening hours. The bar is still open for all them who need a drink to steady their nerves.’

  There wasn’t exactly a rush to the bar, though enough to make it worthwhile for the Stenners to serve them.

  Meg declined. ‘Thanks all the same, but I’ll be getting on home, Mrs Stenner.’

  Darling Gladys, her hair crimped in the grasp of steel curlers, gave her a cheery wave. ‘That’s all right, me dear. You get on with that little ’un of yours. Looks as though she might have found a new friend. Your husband would have liked that, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Meg, feeling a lump rise in her throat. ‘He would.’

  As they squeezed out through the doorway, Meg saw that Lily’s free hand was still buried in the thick ruff of fur around the dog’s neck. Once outside, she paused and took a deep breath.

  ‘Mrs Malin.’ Constable John Carter looked hot and harried beneath his policeman’s helmet. ‘Took shelter in the pub, did you?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  PC Carter’s gaze fell to the dog and back to her. ‘You look pleased with yourself. And you’ve got the dog. Well if that don’t take the biscuit.’

  A few hours ago, Meg had been adamant she would not give the dog a home. Now here she was with him in tow on her way back to Bluebell Cottage. A little embarrassed, she nervously tucked a swathe of thick blonde hair behind one ear. ‘I believe Rudy is my responsibility and he seems to have taken to Lily. Anyway, I owe it to Ray.’

  PC Carter nodded quietly and the warmth in his eyes lit up his face. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. If you ever get stuck … Come to me.’

  Meg nodded. ‘I will, and thank you for all you’ve done.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything much – just fell off my bike and the dog took off, but honestly, if you do encounter any problems coping with him …’

  ‘Food could be a problem, but I think we can manage.’

  PC Carter tapped the side of his nose. ‘There’s plenty of rabbits around here. Two or three a week should do the job, don’t you think?’

  Rudy didn’t flinch when the policeman patted his head. ‘Handsome fellah. Do you have a collar and lead for him?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Think I might have a collar and lead somewhere. If I find them, I’ll bring them round.’

  Meg thanked him for his generosity before hurrying on, Lily and Rudy keeping pace. It was a great relief to Meg that Lily had barely noticed they’d experienced a bombing raid. After London, she would have expected her to panic, but she appeared quite calm. Her feeling of relief was further encouraged when Lily began to skip.

  ‘Lily! You’re skipping.’

  Lily looked up at her and laughed. ‘Rudy’s come home.’

  The dog lolloped at a brisker pace. Meg began to skip too. So there they were, all three of them trotting and skipping happily along the road. She began to laugh, the first time she had laughed since losing Ray. Or perhaps even before that.

  Her mood was euphoric and in consequence her mind seemed to wake up to the possibilities, things to do that would elevate both her spirits and contribute more to Lily’s healing. ‘Tomorrow we’ll make carrot cake.’

  Lily laughed. ‘With carrots?’

  ‘With carrots,’ echoed Meg, hardly daring to hope that this breakthrough would continue. She wasn’t sure she had all the ingredients for a carrot cake, but the promise and the events of the day made her buoyant. They’d survived the raid intact and in good company, the villagers carrying on with their lives as though knitting and singing could win the war. Better still, Lily had not reverted back to the haunted child she’d been before Rudy had attached himself.

  They were closing on the cottage gate, half hidden beneath a trellised arch of worn wood and an overgrown climbing rose; its scent distinguishable even before the mass of blooms was sighted. Meg placed her hand on the gate, paused and looked at the dog. Rudy looked up at her and wagged his tail, almost as though waiting patiently to be invited inside.

  As though he perceived Bluebell Cottage as his home.

  Lily reached out her hand. The dog took a step forward, sniffed and licked her palm. Lily giggled.

  What a wonderful day, thought Meg. It was as though something had cracked and splintered inside the little girl– like winter ice on a frozen pond. ‘Rudy is very glad to be home and he’s never going away again.’ She said it boldly, hurriedly yet gently. Her heart seemed to stick in her throat as she watched Lily’s face. The dog entered the cottage, sniffing around a bit before collapsing with a sigh as his body met the coolness of the old flagstones.

  Meg’s thoughts were in turmoil, as she looked at all the improvements she had made. The cottage was more cheerful than it had been, the floor cleaner and the colours of the faded Turkish rug were brighter thanks to her hanging it out on the clothes line and
giving it a good beating. After dislodging the dust, she’d laid it down on the floor and given it a vigorous scrub. The result was pleasing. The room looked and smelled clean. Everything was in its place and she wanted it to stay that way. She’d never liked dogs very much and might take some time adjusting, but for Lily’s sake she would do that.

  Telling Lily to go and wash her hands, she stood alone with the dog and her thoughts. Ray had told her how he’d found her and the dog, but had known very little about what went before.

  ‘Rudy. What did the two of you go through?’ she said softly.

  The dog opened one eye, its tail sweeping the flagstone and disturbing the fringe of the Turkish rug. Somebody knocked on the door, causing the dog to raise his head. PC Carter was standing there, a leather lead and collar hanging from his right hand.

  ‘I thought you might be able to make use of these. I don’t know who they used to belong to, but they’ve been in the station for ever. I thought you could do with them.’

  Meg thanked him. The policeman lingered. She had a few scoops of tea left in the caddy so invited him in. Lily came back from washing her hands, then promptly lay down beside the dog. Both of them closed their eyes.

  ‘Great pals,’ remarked PC Carter.

  ‘It would seem that way.’ He didn’t pry as to her reasons for refusing the dog a home in the first place and for that she was grateful.

  He’d also brought her along two rabbits and some offal that he explained was horsemeat. ‘The horse died of old age. The rabbits were trapped. Everyone will be fed well on this lot. I’ve even got carrots, onions and potatoes if you’ve not got any yourself.’

  She thanked him and, feeling happier than she’d been for a long time, decided it was only polite to invite him for dinner the following evening. ‘I’m also going to make carrot cake. So if you’d like to come … ?’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Constable John Carter was just an ordinary village policeman and regarded by all as a confirmed bachelor. He’d had girlfriends but none he felt serious about. At thirty-seven years of age he was still single. He hadn’t met or pursued anyone who tickled his heartstrings so presumed he’d remain a bachelor all his life –that was until Meg Malin had come along.

  Due to the tragic circumstances of her husband’s death, he had respected her widowed status. He’d made no advances, but he could at least be friendly, though even there he judged it best to tread carefully. The business with the dog had finally given him the opportunity he’d been waiting for. The fine collar and leather lead had been there in the outhouse at the back of the police station when he’d first taken up residence. Nobody had laid claim to it and he didn’t have a police dog. Meg Malin needed it.

  He congratulated himself on the brilliant idea of offering her rabbits for the dog and was pleased as punch when she’d invited him for dinner the following night. It was the first date he’d had in years. Not really a date though. He reminded himself that the little girl would be there and smiled at the image of them together. Almost like a ready-made family, he thought to himself, barely curbing an embarrassed smile. All supposition, Pie in the sky. Still, a man could dream.

  He arrived with a bouquet of flowers, the remains of summer blooms interspersed with fronds of cow parsley and thick red leaves from some shrub in the garden that he didn’t know the name of. Meg opened the door wearing a blue dress, her hair caught back in a fine silvery snood. He couldn’t be sure, but he also thought she might be wearing lipstick. Though he was no expert on the world of cosmetics, he didn’t think he’d seen her wearing lipstick before. Lily was sitting at the table, the dog at her side and the smell of rabbit stew was enticing. He fancied also that some baking had been done, as promised.

  Rudy got to his feet and wagged his tail. John offered him the back of his hand when he sauntered over. He gave it a quick nuzzle before going back beside Lily. ‘He let me in then,’ said John, as Meg took his coat and the bottle of Cyprus ruby wine he’d brought with him. The wine had been bought for Christmas three years ago but had remained hidden at the back of the sideboard ever since. ‘I hope that doesn’t mean he’d let anyone in.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘It was left over from last Christmas,’ he said as he handed over the bottle, but didn’t say which Christmas. ‘I think it’s still drinkable.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you. Rudy seems to recognise who is a friend and who is an enemy,’ said Meg, feeling profoundly protective of the animal.

  ‘Something in his background,’ said John. ‘If you train them in your ways from a puppy, that’s the dog you’ll get. Quite an intelligent one by the looks of it. And he’s known kindness. You can kind of tell.’

  ‘I think so,’ Meg said quietly, and realised she meant it.

  They spoke of generally pleasant things over dinner and he helped her with the dishes once Lily was put to bed.

  ‘It’s a little weak,’ she said to him as she poured two cups of tea.

  ‘Getting used to it,’ he said, and Meg laughed. ‘Everyone is.’

  The dog was stretched out. Every so often his tail would brush the flagged floor as though he approved of certain aspects of their conversation. He was also replete following a tasty meal of rabbit bones, stew and soaked bread.

  ‘I take it your husband didn’t own the dog when he was a puppy, so where did he get him from?’

  Meg carefully put her cup down in the saucer, her eyes downcast. At the mention of Ray she couldn’t help but turn into herself. Things were bound to get easier.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said John on seeing her hesitation. ‘You don’t have to tell me …’

  Meg held up a hand to stop him going on. ‘It’s all right. I try to avoid speaking his name. Silly, I know. They do say time is a great healer, but let’s face it, all the grieving in the world isn’t going to bring him back.’ She paused and waited for his reaction. ‘You probably think I’m hard-hearted,’ she said when he continued to stand there without saying a word. Finally, he shook his head. His smile was slightly lopsided.

  ‘No. Not really. Life goes on.’

  ‘Unless he is only missing in action … Action was what it was all about for Ray. He loved the war.’ She frowned. ‘Funny, I’d never really accepted that before, but it’s true. If he’d been given a choice between staying at home or going off to war, he would still have chosen war – even if he could have stayed home.’

  John poured the dessert wine, noticing its colour and thinking that its thick consistency was very close to blood. He wanted to hear her voice again but not hindsight comments relating to her husband, which stirred him to false hope at a time when he felt the niceties of grieving were not yet over.

  ‘To peace,’ he said, raising his glass in a toast.

  ‘To peace.’

  ‘So where did the dog originally come from? I’m intrigued.’

  ‘I’m still not sure. I can tell you as much as I know, but it isn’t much. Very little, in fact. Ray was always very secretive about his missions in France. I’m not sure I should even be mentioning them to you. But that was how he found them, you see, while he was over there.’ She frowned as an odd thought surfaced. ‘At times I think he used to prefer being over there to being with me in London. More exciting, I suppose …’

  She rubbed at the sudden chill at the nape of her neck. Up until this moment it had never occurred to her that this might indeed be the case.

  John interrupted. ‘Dangerous, though.’

  His comment brought her back from her thoughts. ‘Lily and Rudy were found together. Lily was in a dreadful state, very thin and unconscious. She regained consciousness long enough to insist that she wasn’t going anywhere without her dog. Where she came from and where the dog came from is unknown.’

  ‘You don’t think they lived together?’

  Meg eyed him warily. ‘Ray thought at some point Lily had a Star of David sewn to her coat.’

  ‘Jewish.’

  ‘Yes.’

>   John tried to work out why she was eyeing him so warily. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Rudy has a number tattooed inside his ear. A military number. Ray thought he might have been a dog used by the German army to guard prisoners.’

  John raised his eyebrows. ‘Jews?’

  She nodded. ‘Possibly. It’s the most likely explanation.’

  John slumped back in his chair. ‘I’m amazed. You wouldn’t want anyone to know that – public feeling being what it is.’

  Meg shook her head and, sighing, reached to pour more wine. ‘Apparently Rudy was something of a trophy to Ray’s RAF colleagues. Dogs, once employed by the enemy, instantly become mascots. Ray loved him.’ She looked up suddenly. ‘I would prefer nobody knows about the number and where the dog might have come from. Nobody would know unless you peered into his ear.’

  ‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  John winced when she raised her eyes. Talking about Ray and things past had darkened her eyes. They were now much brighter and full of hope. She went on to tell him about her day.

  ‘Yesterday I think a miracle began to happen. My little girl – she’s only my foster child but to me she is indeed my little girl – responded to that dog. Suddenly she was speaking again. It’s early days, John, but I truly believe her healing has begun.’

  ‘You mean she might also remember her past?’

  Meg nodded.

  ‘Doesn’t that worry you?’

  Meg nodded again. ‘Of course it does. She used to have nightmares. I’m hoping she won’t have any more. On the plus side, she might remember her real name and that of her parents. She’ll want to go with them. I do realise that.’

  ‘If they’re still alive,’ John murmured.

  Meg silently acknowledged what he was saying.

  ‘I have both you and Mrs Dando to thank for keeping Rudy here. Without you two there might never have been a chance of this happening. I’m grateful, I really am.’

  John smiled. ‘Glad I could be of some service. Shame about Mrs Dando though.’ He frowned. ‘Odd, too. She definitely died of a heart attack but there was some blood on the landing. We couldn’t find any bleeding on her and there’s no sign of forced entry. All we can think is that the dog caught a rat or something and ate it. Dogs sometimes do.’