We'll Meet Again

by Patricia Burns

  ‘I do understand,’ she cried. ‘But why do you have to go the moment you’re eighteen? Why not—’

  ‘No, you don’t. If you understood, then you’d know why. I thought you’d be on my side, Annie.’

  ‘I am, I am on your side!’ Annie shouted. ‘I just don’t want you to go off and get yourself killed!’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’

  Tom jumped up and stood for a moment, glaring down at her.

  ‘You’re just like everyone else, treating me like a kid. Well, I’m going to join up, whatever you say. And you’ll just have to lump it!’

  He stormed off down the steep slope of the sea wall to where his bike lay in the yellowing grass. For fully half a minute, Annie could only sit staring after him, horrified that a leisurely discussion could have blown up into a full-scale row like this. Tom picked up his bike and began cycling off up the track.

  ‘Tom!’ Annie found her voice and the use of her legs. She jumped up and ran after him. ‘Tom, stop! Come back!’

  But if he heard her, he gave no sign of it, and went on pedalling away from her as fast as he could go.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WITTLESHAM sea front in the rain was a depressing place. It reflected Tom’s mood. Just a handful of cafés and one amusement arcade were open and they were full to overflowing with the few summer visitors who had dared come on holiday. He didn’t fancy going in all by himself. He decided to take a walk along the promenade, then go to the pictures. With a bit of luck he’d be able to sit there until it was time to go and meet Annie. If Annie turned up, that was.

  The weather had kept practically everyone off the promenade. From where he joined it by the pier to as far as he could see in the driving rain, there were only three other people out walking. Tom’s head and body were dry enough in his oilskin cycle cape and hood, but his feet in their plimsolls were soaked, so much so that he didn’t bother avoiding puddles but just splashed straight through them. To one side of him was the rusting barbed wire that kept everyone off the beach, to the other, closed guest houses and gift shops.

  Tom put his head down and his hands in his pockets. Where had it all gone wrong? He had arrived with such high hopes, but now the big adventure had crashed. It was as if he had been cycling happily along and a chasm had opened up at his feet and swallowed him up. He and Annie never quarreled; they always understood each other. That was what had made it all such a shock. He didn’t know what to do.

  He was so engrossed with his problem that he hardly noticed that the other people on the promenade were getting closer. He vaguely heard the sound of a child pretending to be a fighter plane, but it didn’t register until a small boy cannoned into him and fell over.

  Tom bent down to help him up. He was a skinny kid in a sou’wester hat too big for him. There was something familiar about him.

  ‘You all right, lad?’ he asked.

  ‘I crashed,’ the boy said. ‘But it’s all right; I’ve got my parachute on.’

  ‘Jolly good,’ Tom said, feeling old. It seemed a long time since he had been engrossed in a game of make-believe like that.

  The mother arrived. With a sense of doom, Tom recognised her. It was Mrs Sutton.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ she was saying. ‘I hope he didn’t hurt you at all?’

  ‘No, no, I’m all right.’

  He hoped that with the poor light and his face half hidden under his hood, she’d not know who he was.

  ‘All this promenade to run along and he has to run into you—say sorry, Timmy.’

  ‘Sowwy,’ the boy repeated obediently.

  ‘It’s nothing, really. He only bumped into me,’ Tom insisted, dying to get away.

  ‘Well, if—’

  It was all right. He was going to get away with it. He started to walk off.

  But then Beryl arrived.

  ‘Tom! It is Tom, isn’t it? Fancy meeting you here!’

  ‘Yes, just fancy,’ Tom muttered to himself. He almost opened his mouth to say that his name wasn’t Tom, but Mrs Sutton was too quick for him.

  ‘Tom? Oh—! Dear me, I didn’t recognise you. But of course, you’re the Featherstones’ boy, aren’t you? You stayed at Silver Sands with your family last summer.’

  He was caught. Glumly, he held his hand out.

  ‘Er—yes, that’s right. It’s Mrs Sutton, isn’t it? How do you do?’

  There was no stopping Mrs Sutton now.

  ‘And are you still all staying at Silver Sands? No? Where are you, then—one of the hotels? The Grand is still open, but I’m afraid some of the others have simply given up. Of course, there are still lots of guest houses, and very good some of them are too, especially as you have small children with you. Your little cousins are with you again this year, I take it?’

  ‘Er … no,’ Tom said.

  ‘No? It’s just your mother and your sister this time, then? Or is your father able to take a holiday as well this year? So necessary for a man to have a proper break when he works hard, I think—’

  Like a police interrogator, she extracted the information that Tom was without his family, on a cycle tour and staying at the youth hostel. At once, she invited him to join them for a cup of tea. Try as he might, Tom couldn’t get himself out of it. Together, they turned and headed back along the sea front, with Mrs Sutton now questioning Tom closely about every member of his family. Back at the Suttons’ house, Mrs S disappeared into the kitchen to put the kettle on while Timmy roared upstairs to get his model aeroplanes to show Tom. Tom was left with Beryl in the front room. They sat uneasily on the two armchairs, facing each other across the empty fireplace. The silence seemed to ring in Tom’s ears. Years of being brought up to be polite could not be overcome. He had to say something. He cleared his throat.

  ‘It’s nice of your—’ he began.

  ‘What made you—?’ Beryl blurted out at the same time.

  ‘I’m sorry—’

  ‘No, you say—’

  Tom kept silent. Beryl was forced to carry on.

  ‘What—I mean, you must have liked Wittlesham to come back here again. On your own, I mean.’

  ‘It’s a nice place,’ Tom said.

  ‘It was really strange, meeting you again like that.’

  ‘Yes, who’d’ve thought it?’

  ‘It’s—it’s a long way to cycle, all the way from Nottingham to here,’ she ventured.

  ‘Yes,’ Tom said. ‘At least—yes.’

  He wasn’t going to go into details about the train journey. The less he told her, the better.

  ‘And you came here all by yourself?’

  ‘Oh—no. I’m on holiday with some friends—cycle club. You know.’

  It was no good admitting that he was here by himself. That would lead to all sorts of difficult questions.

  ‘You got them all to come to Wittlesham?’

  ‘Yes. Well, like I said, it’s a nice place. It makes a change from all the places back home.’

  It sounded a bit thin, but she seemed to accept it.

  ‘You must all like cycling,’ she ventured. ‘Did it take you long to get this far?’

  ‘Oh—a few days,’ Tom said. He had no idea how long it would have taken to cycle all the way here from Noresley.

  ‘But wasn’t it hard? Finding your way, I mean, with all the signposts down and everything?’

  Tom shrugged. ‘People tell us the way. We don’t look like German spies.’

  ‘It was quite an adventure.’

  ‘Yes,’ Tom said.

  ‘Didn’t your friends want to go out today?’ Beryl asked.

  ‘No—well—it was raining. But I wanted to see the sea front.’

  At that point, to Tom’s relief, Timmy came into the room with his collection of cardboard aeroplanes. Tom immediately switched his attention totally to Timmy, asking all about them and playing at dogfights with him. After that, Mrs Sutton came in with the tea tray.

  ‘Ooh, cake!’ Timmy exclaimed. ‘Why are we having cake?’
r />   His mother looked slightly embarrassed. Cake was a treat, what with sugar and eggs being rationed.

  ‘Oh, well—we do have a visitor,’ she said.

  Tom made to go as soon as tea was finished.

  ‘Won’t you stay for dinner? You’re very welcome,’ Mrs Sutton said.

  Tom had a horrible vision of being kept there for ever.

  ‘Oh—no, thank you. I … er … I have to get back to my friends. The … the ones I’m touring with,’ he said.

  ‘Well, come back any time you like while you’re staying here,’ she insisted.

  Tom thanked her, said goodbye to everyone and left. It had at least filled part of a very long day.

  By half past six he was sitting on the veranda of Silver Sands with his back against the wall of the chalet. He shivered. It had stopped raining but the evening was damp and unpleasant. He was far too early, but he wanted to be sure that he didn’t miss Annie.

  What was he going to say to her? He shouldn’t have flown off the handle at her like that yesterday. Suppose she didn’t come this evening? He wouldn’t blame her. If only there was some way in which he could get in touch with her. And now there was this visit to the Suttons. One thing was for sure, he mustn’t say anything about that to her. If she found out he had been eating cake with her worst enemies, there would be hell to pay. He was worried too, about what he had said to the Suttons. Should he have told them he was here with friends, or not? Whichever, the lie was told now, but he couldn’t help wondering if there would be some sort of repercussions.

  He was just about convinced that Annie wasn’t coming when he heard her voice calling softly from the other side of the building.

  ‘Tom? You there?’

  Tom jumped up. ‘Yes! Round here!’

  He hurried to meet her. She paused at the corner of the veranda, her hand on the rail, her expression guarded. As if she wasn’t sure what to expect. As if—And it came to him with horrible clarity that she must look at her father like that, not knowing whether he was going to do something dreadful. He recalled the bruises on her that final evening last year and felt like a monster. Surely she didn’t think he would be the same? Did she think all men were like that? He couldn’t bear it. He rushed up to her and grasped her hands.

  ‘Oh, Annie, don’t look at me like that. I’m sorry I went off my head yesterday. I shouldn’t have gone marching off like I did. I didn’t mean to, it was just … Say you’ll forgive me?’

  Her face relaxed into a smile. ‘‘Course I do. It was just thinking of you joining up like that, so soon—I didn’t think you were going so soon …’

  ‘I know, I didn’t think …’

  But solid and unmovable within him was the knowledge that, whatever she said, he was not going to change his mind about joining up.

  ‘I’m so glad you came,’ he said hastily. ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t, and I know you don’t like me coming up to the farm, and there’s no way I can get a message or anything to you.’

  ‘I didn’t know whether you’d be here, either,’ Annie admitted. ‘After you went off like that …’

  ‘But we’re both here now,’ Tom said. They seemed to keep swinging dangerously close to opening it up all over again. The other pressing problem on his mind surfaced. He grabbed hold of it. ‘For now, anyway. I’ve only got one more night at the youth hostel. They’re meant for people touring, so you have to keep moving on. You can’t stay in one for a whole week.’

  ‘Oh—’ Annie was immediately distracted. ‘That’s dreadful. What are we going to do? Well, there’s plenty of guest houses. Gwen’s aunty runs one, for a start, but it’ll be more expensive than the hostel—’

  ‘I’ve got some money saved,’ Tom said, ‘but I’m not sure if it’d be enough.’

  ‘I know!’ Annie interrupted. ‘Oh, this is such a wonderful idea! Listen, you could stay here.’

  ‘Here?’ Tom couldn’t follow what she meant.

  ‘Yes, in Silver Sands, just like last year.’

  ‘But—’ Tom looked at the chalet with its drawn curtains and locked doors. ‘You said you didn’t know who owns it now.’

  ‘That’s just it. Nobody comes here any more. I don’t even know if the new owners live in Wittlesham. I’m sure we could get in, and nobody would see you from this side. You’ve got a bed-roll with you, haven’t you? And you could buy food with your coupons. It’d be such fun! Our own little house.’ Annie’s face was shining with pleasure and excitement.

  ‘You mean—break in?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Well—yes,’ Annie agreed. A little of the excitement dimmed as she was forced to look at it like that. ‘But it’s not like we’re burglars. We’re not going to steal anything, or damage anything—just stay here for a while. We wouldn’t be doing any harm. In fact, we could clean it up, make it look nice.’

  All Tom’s careful upbringing urged against it, but it had no chance against Annie’s enthusiasm and powers of persuasion. He put up a few arguments, but allowed them to be swept away. Together, they examined the windows. The third one they tried had a weak latch. It was all too easy. Tom lifted Annie up so she could get her arm through the fanlight and open the casement. With a bit of a thump, the window opened, and in they climbed. Silver Sands was theirs.

  They tiptoed through dim rooms that smelt of damp and dust, Tom remembering last summer, Annie looking at the inside of the chalet for the first time. It felt strange, so quiet and still like this, such a contrast to last year, when the place had been overflowing with his family and shaking with the noise of the little ones belting round and shouting at each other. There were no swimming costumes hanging up to dry, no toys left about. Everything was ready for visitors, though, down to the last cup and cushion. The beds were stripped but had mattresses. The spirit stove just needed meths.

  ‘I’ll move in tomorrow,’ Tom decided.

  ‘Hooray!’ Annie cried. ‘It’ll be such fun, you’ll see. And I’ll be able to look across the fields and know that you’re here.’

  It made him feel very odd to have her say that. It heightened the need he felt to protect and care for her, but it also gave him a twinge of alarm, as if he was being backed into a corner.

  ‘Yes, that’ll be spot-on,’ he agreed.

  The days passed all too quickly and the time they spent together was far too short. Annie managed to get away one afternoon to go shopping in town and deliver work for her mother, and the two of them went to a church fête where they had a go at all the competition stalls and Tom won a ring in the bran tub. It was a large sparkly glass affair, much too big for Annie’s hand. She wore it on her thumb. They went to meet Gwen when she left work and Tom thanked her for being their postman. Gwen giggled a lot and kept elbowing him. Tom wasn’t very taken with her, but she was Annie’s friend so he made an effort to be nice.

  Before they knew where they were it was Saturday and their last evening. They sat on the sofa in the little living room and ate Annie’s sweet ration.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re going already,’ Annie said. Her voice was small and bleak.

  ‘I know,’ Tom said.

  He hated leaving her here with that father of hers, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it.

  ‘We must keep on writing,’ he said. ‘I really like getting your letters.’

  Sadness was seeping into the chalet, bearing down on them, filling a big black pool inside them. Letters were nice, but they weren’t like being here, talking to her, holding her hand.

  ‘Will you be able to come back next year?’ Annie asked.

  Next year. It seemed so far away as to be out of sight.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Tom said. It was too important to lie about. ‘I’d like to, but …’

  ‘You’re going to join the RAF,’ Annie stated.

  ‘Yes.’

  And there it was again, the insoluble problem.

  ‘I’ll have to join up anyway, sooner or later. Probably sooner. They’re always changing the age li
mit. Whatever it is, I’m sure to get my call-up before next summer,’ he pointed out. ‘And if that’s the case, then I might as well make sure I get in the service I want, mightn’t I?’

  Annie heaved a great sigh. ‘I suppose so, but—the RAF, Tom! So many planes shot down—’

  ‘I won’t get shot down.’

  He truly believed it. He wouldn’t be killed. It couldn’t happen to him.

  ‘You wait and see. Once I’m up there flying over Germany, old Adolf’ll give up.’

  Annie tried to smile, but failed.

  ‘I hope so,’ she said.

  Tom almost wished she’d be angry again and argue with him. It made him feel guilty to see her like this. He took her hand in both of his.

  ‘It’s just that I want to get away. Like I told you the other day, I want to do something that counts. I don’t want to be treated like a kid any more. You understand that, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I understand that. I long and long to get away from here,’ Annie said.

  He could hear the yearning in her voice, see it in her eyes.

  ‘Why don’t you, then? When you’re old enough. They want girls to join the forces. You could be a WAAF. We might be stationed at the same place. Or you don’t even have to wait till then. You could go now. You could get lodgings and work in a factory. They’re crying out for girls.’

  For a moment her face lit with longing at the thought, then it died. She shook her head.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘But why not?’ he persisted.

  ‘It’s my mum. She needs me.’

  ‘She managed before, when you were too small to help,’ Tom said.

  It didn’t seem fair, that Annie should be kept prisoner like this.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Annie said. ‘I think she’s having a baby. She hasn’t said anything, but I’m sure she is. She’s let out her clothes to disguise it, and she’s wearing her blouses hanging over her skirts, and it’s not just that she’s getting fat. She’s thinner than ever in her face and her arms. So you see, she’s going to need me more than ever.’