Welcome Home

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Oh yes. She’s called in once or twice when she knows your dad’s at sea and I’m likely to be on my own, though me and Lil spend a lot of our time together.’

  Shirley laughed. ‘As if you haven’t always.’

  Edie had the grace to smile and say, ‘Well, that’s true. I don’t know what I’d do without your Aunty Lil.’

  ‘I know, Mam,’ Shirley said softly. ‘I know.’

  Edie glanced at her. She was suddenly seeing a much nicer side to her youngest daughter. Perhaps being in one of the services, feeling she was ‘doing her bit’ and meeting new people – even making some friends – was giving Shirley a new confidence and consequently honing her into a nicer person. Living amongst a group of young women, Shirley would soon be sat on from a great height if she trotted out one of her sarcastic remarks.

  ‘So, how long have you got?’

  Shirley chuckled. ‘Right question, Mam.’

  ‘Eh? What d’you mean?’

  ‘The girls were saying that when you go home on leave, everyone asks you, “When are you going back?”, almost as if they want you gone again. But if they ask, like you did, it sounds as if they really want you home but just want to know, to make the most of the time you have. See?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I must remember that when Frank comes home on leave.’

  Shirley’s eyes widened. ‘Have you heard from him?’

  Edie shook her head. ‘Only indirectly, through Lil. Irene hears from him, of course, but he never was much of a letter writer. I – I don’t expect him to write to me.’

  ‘Well, he should. He ought to write to his mam, even if it’s only now and again. I fully intend to write to you every week. D’you know where he is now?’

  ‘Abroad, we think. Irene has to write to a BFPO address.’

  ‘Oh yes, British forces posted overseas. I didn’t know what it stood for until recently. If he is abroad, Mam, that’ll be why he can’t get back home. Oh, they’ll get leave, but it might not be long enough for them to get back to England.’

  Edie was silent for a moment before asking quietly, ‘Are you likely to be sent abroad?’

  Shirley shrugged and avoided her mother’s gaze. ‘I really don’t know yet, Mam, I’ve only just completed basic training.’ She glanced at the mantelpiece where Edie put all the recent letters for Archie to see when he came home. She could see that there were three of her letters there. ‘Any news from Beth?’

  ‘Only those stupid postcards and we haven’t had one at all since your birthday party when she couldn’t come home.’

  ‘Mm,’ Shirley said thoughtfully as she took down the last two cards from Beth and scrutinized them. The writing on them certainly looked like Beth’s, but there was something strange about the last one that had arrived – the one that had told them she would be unable to come home for the birthday party. For a moment, Shirley couldn’t think what it was and then she realized. It was the way Beth had ended her message. Usually she put: ‘Lots of Love to Everyone – Stay safe’. The first part was there, but the last two words were missing. Would Beth have forgotten to write what had become a kind of talisman to the whole family? It was a ritual which had gained the status of a superstition. Thoughtfully, Shirley replaced the cards on the mantelpiece.

  Twenty-One

  The first time the German vehicles visited the farm after Beth’s arrival, she was cleaning out the pigsty in one of the farm buildings at the side of the crew yard. Over her shoulder she saw a large open-topped German staff car swing into the farmyard carrying a driver and an officer sitting in the back. She felt her heart quicken, but she carried on with her task. Behind the first vehicle came a truck painted in camouflage colours and carrying two soldiers with the German rank equivalent of the British Army’s private. As the officer got out of the car and strode towards her, she brushed the slurry towards the drain with a strong sweeping action. He stopped a few yards from her and smiled. In perfect French, though she noticed he kept the German form of address, he said, ‘I had better be careful not to get in your way, Fräulein.’

  She glanced up at him, her heart thumping so loudly in her chest now that she thought he must hear it.

  ‘Good morning,’ she managed to say politely, though she couldn’t stop her voice from sounding cool. No doubt he was used to it for he smiled sardonically and gave a little bow. ‘My name is Major Kurt Hartmann. We have come to collect supplies. I have not seen you here before.’ The statement invited an answer.

  Beth met his steady gaze. He was undoubtedly a handsome man with a strong, firm jaw line, piercingly blue eyes and fair hair that showed just below his peaked cap. His uniform was immaculate and his polished boots glinted in the wintry sunlight.

  Beth smiled at him. It wasn’t so hard if you ignored the uniform he was wearing and everything it represented, she told herself.

  ‘Then I will fetch Monsieur Détange.’ She dropped the brush she had been wielding.

  ‘What is your name, Fräulein?’ he called after her.

  ‘Leonie,’ she said over her shoulder, crossing her fingers that both Monsieur and Madame Détange would remember it.

  ‘A pretty name,’ the officer murmured, watching her trim figure in the working clothes of a farm labourer as she walked away from him and disappeared into the house, ‘for a pretty Fräulein.’

  Raoul Détange appeared and nodded briefly to the major. ‘It’s all ready for you in the barn,’ he said, as he crossed the yard. The major clicked his fingers and the two soldiers, who looked extraordinarily young, Beth thought as she watched from the kitchen window, clambered down from the truck and hurried to obey.

  Major Hartmann became a frequent visitor to the farm, always on the pretext of collecting food and supplies for his troops from the reluctant farmer, but as soon as he alighted from his vehicle, he looked around for Beth.

  ‘You want to keep out of his way,’ Raoul warned her after one visit when the German officer had seemed particularly friendly, smiling and bowing courteously towards her and trying to engage her in conversation.

  ‘I wish I could,’ Beth said grimly, ‘but don’t you think it would look even more suspicious if I’m missing every time he comes? I mean, if he sends his men to look for me, they might find things I really don’t want them to find.’ She was thinking of the radio hidden in the little barn in the fields.

  ‘I see your point, but be careful, Leonie.’

  ‘I will,’ Beth said solemnly, knowing that the kindly farmer only had her interests at heart. ‘Besides, I’m supposed to be only fifteen.’

  Raoul snorted. ‘Huh! That won’t bother the likes of him.’

  The next time Major Hartmann arrived, Beth hid in her bedroom.

  ‘He asked where you were,’ Raoul told her worriedly. ‘He’s getting far too interested in you for my peace of mind.’

  ‘I’ll be careful, Uncle.’

  So, on the following visit, she made sure she spoke to the major.

  ‘I missed you last time, Fräulein,’ he said, touching his cap in a mock salute.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said cheerfully, leaning on the sharp-tined pitchfork she was carrying. ‘I must have been out in the fields.’

  ‘The farmer – he is good to you? You seem to work very hard.’

  ‘Uncle Raoul?’ She widened her eyes, as if in surprise. ‘Oh yes, he’s wonderful. And Aunt Marthe too. I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t been able to come here after we . . .’

  She stopped and dropped her gaze to the floor as if embarrassed to continue.

  ‘After what, Fräulein?’

  Beth bit her lip, pretending that she was reluctant to tell him. ‘After –’ she whispered, ‘after we were bombed.’

  There was a pause before the major said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  Beth was surprised; he sounded as if he really meant it.

  ‘The war is a dreadful thing,’ he went on, softly. ‘It separates people who might otherwise have become friends.’ He was gazing at her int
ently as he said, strangely hesitantly, ‘Would – would you do me the honour of allowing me to take you out to dinner?’

  Beth’s heart quickened. This is what she – and Raoul – had been afraid of. She blinked, feigning surprise. Then she smiled and simpered as she believed a girl of her supposed age might have done. ‘Oh Major, I’m flattered, but I couldn’t. I’m only fifteen, you see, and – and . . .’

  The major frowned. ‘You look a little older than that.’

  ‘Do I?’ Beth said eagerly, as if delighted. She remembered that at that age she had always been in a hurry to grow up. Then she feigned a pout. ‘I wish I was, then I could join up and . . .’ She stopped, pretending to be appalled at what she had been about to say.

  He smiled ruefully. ‘Then it looks, Fräulein, as if we are destined never to become friends. It’s a shame, because I would have liked that – very much.’

  He saluted her once more, turned and strode back to the car. But he did not, Beth noticed especially, use the Heil Hitler salute. She frowned as she watched him go. Was that the last time she would see him? She rather thought that it was not. Though he had acted like a true gentleman, she had seen the look in his eyes; a look that said he liked her, that he was attracted to her and that he would not give up the pursuit whatever her age might be.

  He came again three days later. Beth tried to disappear but the truck swept into the yard before she could escape from the barn into the house. Luckily, Raoul was with her. ‘Stay with me,’ she urged. She’d confided in the older man what had happened. She hadn’t wanted to tell him – hadn’t wanted to worry him – but she’d felt she had to be honest with him. The safety of them all lay in them being completely open with each other.

  ‘I wish Emile was here,’ Raoul muttered.

  ‘I don’t,’ Beth whispered back. ‘And it’s Antoine now.’

  Raoul grunted. ‘How am I expected to remember to call my own son by a different name? It’s all so ridiculous.’

  ‘I know,’ Beth soothed. ‘But it’s to protect us all. If he was caught using his own name, it would lead them straight to you and Aunt Marthe.’ She saw Raoul shudder at the thought. ‘Anyone who works underground must have an alias. Even me.’ She grinned and, as Major Hartmann came towards them, whispered, ‘You’re doing very well – just don’t forget I’m Leonie.’

  But it seemed that this time it was not Beth whom the major had come to see, though his glance flickered towards her and he gave her a brief nod. At that moment several German soldiers jumped from the rear of the vehicle and began to run to different parts of the yard, into the buildings and even into the back door of the farmhouse.

  ‘I have had reports that a wireless signal has been picked up in this area,’ Major Hartmann told them calmly. ‘My men have been ordered to conduct a search. You will cooperate.’

  It was an order, not a question. Raoul, clenching his hands, clearly felt helpless and Beth’s heart was beating rapidly. But, bravely, she decided it was time to put her acting skills to the test. Twisting one of her plaits around her finger, she stepped a little closer to Kurt Hartmann, but not close enough to appear suggestive. She attempted to play the innocent, asking the sort of questions that a puzzled, guiltless fifteen-year-old might pose.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ Behind her, she could feel Raoul’s fear, but she smiled up at Kurt.

  ‘A wireless,’ he said, a little impatiently.

  ‘Like you can listen to music and that?’ Before he could answer she turned to Raoul. ‘We haven’t got a wireless, have we, Uncle?’ She turned back to face the officer again. ‘We had one in Boulogne-Billancourt. But we lost it.’

  Kurt frowned. ‘You said,’ he said shortly. ‘In the bombing.’

  ‘I miss it. I used to love listening to the music.’

  ‘It’s not that sort of wireless,’ Kurt said. ‘It’s a wireless transmitter for sending and receiving messages.’

  Beth blinked at him. ‘Who to?’

  ‘The enemy.’

  Beth laughed. ‘Why would any of us want to send messages to you?’

  ‘Not us, you silly girl. To our enemies. The British – the Free French.’

  ‘Oh!’ Beth pretended to be taking this in. Then she nodded as if beginning to understand. ‘Yes, I see what you mean. But – but what sort of messages?’

  Kurt shrugged. ‘About British airmen getting back home if they have parachuted out of a damaged aircraft, about dropping supplies – arms mostly.’

  Beth gasped and widened her eyes. ‘Are they doing that?’

  Kurt stared at her for a moment and she could see that he was wondering if she really was that stupid. He gave a swift nod as his troops appeared from the house and the outbuildings and gathered in the yard once more.

  ‘Nothing, Major,’ one young soldier reported.

  ‘Very well.’ As the soldiers climbed back into the lorry, Kurt said softly, ‘We know there is a circuit operating in this area and we mean to find it.’ Now he stared directly at Raoul. ‘Where is your son, Herr Détange?’

  ‘My – son?’ For a moment the older man hesitated and Beth was so afraid he was going to say something careless. But Raoul shrugged and murmured, ‘I only wish I knew, Major Hartmann.’ And he dropped his head as if mourning the possible loss of his son.

  ‘I see,’ Kurt Hartmann said and added, as he turned away, ‘Well, if you do hear anything from him, it would be better for you, your wife and Leonie here, if you were to tell us.’

  As the lorry drew out of the yard, Beth heaved a sigh, but it was not one of relief. ‘We must get word to Antoine,’ she said.

  ‘He’ll be here tonight, no doubt with a message he wants you to send.’

  ‘They missed finding the wireless, thank goodness. But perhaps I’d better move it.’

  ‘No, no, leave it where it is. It’s in the best place.’

  ‘But we were told to move to different places when we transmit. That way it’s harder for them to pick up the signals. They already know there’s one around here somewhere. I just want to protect you and Aunt Marthe.’

  Raoul put his hand on her slim shoulder and his voice was none too steady as he said, ‘You’re a brave girl, Leonie. A very brave girl. But you mustn’t worry about us. We both knew what we were getting into from the very start when we offered to help. We’ve just got to carry on until we’ve driven these – these bastards from our land and you can go back to your family.’

  Beth said nothing as a moment of homesickness threatened to overwhelm her. She was very afraid it was going to be a long time before that could happen.

  Twenty-Two

  When Jessie heard that not one of Edie’s family – or Lil’s, for that matter – were coming home for the fourth Christmas of the war, she insisted that they should all celebrate at her home. ‘You do it every year, Edie, it’s time you had a break.’

  ‘Me and Lil do it together, Jessie. It’s no trouble, really.’

  ‘Well, me and Harry want you to come to us this year. Lil, too, of course. And,’ she laughed, ‘we’ll even ask Norma, though I have my doubts that she’ll come if it’s me doing the asking.’

  ‘What about Ursula? Shirley’s friend? She’s been coming to us at Christmas and Easter. Poor lass is all alone. Shirley said the woman she lodges with is a real misery and always disappears to relatives at holiday times, leaving Ursula on her own.’

  ‘Of course she can come. The more the merrier.’

  And so for the first time in her married life, Edie didn’t spend Christmas in her own home. Just to Lil, for she didn’t want to upset Jessie, she said, ‘I’m all at sixes and sevens. I’m so used to us planning Christmas together, I just don’t know what to do with myself.’

  ‘There’re two things you can do, Edie,’ Lil said firmly. ‘For a start, you can help me get this net finished before Christmas and then we can put some extra hours in at the Centre.’

  Jessie had spared no expense in order to do everything that rationing and shortages
would allow to feed her guests.

  ‘Oh, you’ve got it looking lovely, Jessie,’ Edie enthused as she gazed around Jessie’s front room. A bright fire burned in the grate – Jessie and Harry must have gone without fires for a while to save the coal for today, Edie thought. Paper chains were looped across the room whilst white-painted pine cones nestled in amongst an arrangement of holly branches. Jessie had even managed to find a small piece of mistletoe. Edie’s glance took in the table, laid with Jessie’s best china, glassware and table decorations. ‘Oh, do look, Lil. However have you managed to get that holly looking as if it’s got frost on its leaves, Jessie?’

  ‘It was a Ministry of Food suggestion, would you believe? If you dip the greenery in a strong solution of Epsom salts, when it dries, it looks just like frost.’

  ‘How imaginative,’ Lil murmured, marvelling once more at Jessie’s ingenuity. Not only was Edie’s sister always to able to ‘make something out of nothing’ in clothes, but she could also conjure up all sorts of handicrafts and she was inventive too. Instead of a bowl of fruit on the sideboard, there were carrots, beetroot and parsley making a colourful display that could still be eaten.

  ‘You’re so clever, Jessie,’ Lil said sincerely and though Jessie brushed aside the compliment, the pink tinge to her cheeks told them that she was gratified by their praise.

  ‘And what do you all want to do this afternoon?’ Jessie said as she served the Christmas pudding. ‘At least we won’t have to play charades.’ They all laughed except Edie; she would have loved to have been forced to play charades because it would have meant that at least one of her family was home.

  ‘I reckon me and Archie will stay here in front of this nice fire and have a bit of a sleep,’ Harry said. ‘What do you say, Archie?’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea to me, Harry.’

  Christmas dinner had been served in Jessie’s front room, using their Morrison shelter as a table, just as Edie did. Jessie had lit an inviting fire in the grate and the two men planned to sit in the two armchairs beside it and talk and doze the afternoon away.