Sunshine Spirit

by Barbara Willis

  Running out of things to do, Jane washed her hands and face and brushed her hair. Then she walked from room to room again, glancing at every piece of furniture and every picture. Back in the bedroom where she'd unpacked their things she lay down on the bed, checking her watch again.

  Jane jumped when she heard a noise downstairs. Her heart beat so fast she could hear its blood pump throbbing in her ears. Disorientated for a moment, she sat up and gently placed her feet to the floor. She quickly but quietly moved behind the open bedroom door, willing her heart into calm in case it gave her hiding place away. She was angry at herself for falling asleep, ashamed at sleeping when she feared for Will's safety and waited for his return. Looking about for a heavy object to arm herself with she saw nothing, her eyes unseeing in the darkness. Her mind was soon distracted from her pointless visual search by the sound of gentle footsteps climbing the stairs. She prayed it was Will, but couldn't be sure.

  A shadow fell across the bedroom floor, illuminated from the fresh landing light. Jane closed her eyes, held her breath. Now she could see she didn't want to. The bedroom door was gently pushed from the other side, reducing Jane's hiding place.

  'Jane?' the worried voice quietly called. On hearing the exhalation of breath that had been released from behind the door, Will pulled the handle and peered round to see Jane leaning against the wall behind. In an instant Jane had thawed from cold unbreathing tension, stiff and alert, to a melting breath of relief.

  'Bloody hell, Jane,' came the sigh, 'you've got to stop doing this to me.' Jane stepped forward. 'Not a week seems to go by when I don't think you've been kidnapped, killed or otherwise lost.' Despite his jest, Jane could see the utter relief in Will's eyes.

  'Sorry, I thought you were…I don't know who I thought you were.'

  Will's moment of vulnerability was set aside by his role as protector, pushed back harshly by his need to look after Jane.

  'It's all over Sunshine, don't worry. No more doubt and despair, we look forward now not back. The only looking over our shoulder we're going to do now is when we're smiling back at happy memories.' Will took Jane's hand and led her downstairs. When they got to the hallway, he stopped. 'Close your eyes.' Will moved next to Jane, covered her eyes with one hand and held her arm gently with the other.

  'What on earth…'

  'You have to trust me Jane.' Will ushered her forward and she heard him open the sitting room door, leading her in. They stopped a few steps inside and Will removed his hand. Jane gasped as she opened her eyes to see a Christmas tree, too large for the room, standing in the corner. It was sparsely dressed with odd decorations and random small items but, with light bouncing around it as the flames from the freshly stoked fire settled on the few unrelated ornaments, it looked lovely. 'I know it's too big,' Will apologised.

  'It's not. It's lovely, Will.' The tree was comically big; not only too tall but also too full, and Will had moved furniture to accommodate it. Considering the proportions of the lovely Georgian home, to install a tree that was actually too big was quite an accomplishment and Jane was amazed at what Will had managed without waking her.

  'I'm glad you like it; it wouldn't be Christmas without a tree. But it is too big. There's a real shortage of small trees; everyone's bought them to fit in their shelters apparently. Would you believe it? Only big bloody brutes left, especially this close to Christmas. I was going to cut it down a bit but it seemed a shame; that and I had nothing man enough to cut it with.' Jane's delight at Will's gesture was heightened by the relief of having him back safely and knowing that there had been no sinister reason for his disappearance. Will knew he'd frightened her with his long absence and added, 'I didn't intend to be gone for so long, I'm sorry if I worried you.'

  'It was a lovely surprise, thank you.'

  The rest of the evening was spent sitting together in the semi darkness, watching the flames dance in the fireplace and enjoying the fresh green smell of the tree as it reminded them of past Christmases and gave them hope for future ones.

  'Happy Christmas Eve,' came the gentle voice in Jane's ear as she dozed on Will's shoulder.

  'Gosh, is that the time? Really?'

  'Yep, we should go to bed. Or we could just sit here; I'd be happy to stay here like this.' He was quick to reassure, not wanting to disturb the warm comfort that brought such peace to them both.

  'Me too.' Jane kissed Will's cheek and settled back down to rest her head on his chest and inhale the scent of cotton shirt mixed with faint aftershave and the warmth of a gently rising and falling chest underneath. Not even the siren and the sounds that followed moved them from their settled embrace.

  When Jane woke the next morning she found herself on the settee alone, covered by a blanket. She checked her watch to find that it was past nine o'clock. She listened for sounds of Will in the house, panic tapping at her chest. At the sound of Will whistling Little Brown Jug somewhere in the house, the panic was turned away and Jane sat up, swinging her legs to the floor. She turned as she heard Will come into the room.

  'Morning,' he smiled.

  'Good morning.'

  'What's the plan for today then Sunshine? We've not heard from Mrs Cartlyn, so I'm guessing we're fugitives 'til after Christmas. I telephoned Jack a few minutes ago and they've invited us to the farm. We can go, or stay here. We'll do whatever you want, just say the word. I'm guessing you might want to see the girls too and speak to your mum?'

  'Oh blimey, hang on a minute, let me wake up first.'

  'Sorry.' Will took Jane's hand. 'I just want to make the most of every minute.' He helped Jane to her feet. 'I noticed that you put both of our bags in the front bedroom.'

  Jane, finding a forwardness she'd never had before, raised her eyebrows.

  'I just want to make the most of every minute.'

  'Touché,' Will conceded quite happily.

  Turning back to the mention of Jack, Jane was worried.

  'You say we've been invited to the farm, which is absolutely lovely, but that's somewhere you're known. The very people we're hiding from were at the farm. They've been there Will, the night they tampered with Sunbeam.'

  'I know.' He looked down. 'I know.' He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. 'My brain is telling me to stay put, but my heart is saying I need to go.' He looked up and shrugged. 'Then there's my gut; that's telling me that it's over, that we'll be alright at the farm. I think Mrs Cartlyn will give us the all clear soon anyway. And if I don't see Jack and Maggie over Christmas, they'll worry. I don't want to do that to them, not now. And heaven help me if Maggie sends Jack to check up on me. He'll find me missing from the flat and the theatre; then what do I do?'

  Jane hesitated, then found the answer clear. 'I say we go.'

  'Do you?'

  'Yes. You're right. I think.' The decision was made in optimism, hope and love but Will knew that he'd be extra vigilant at every step.

  Christmas 1940

  With a sense of optimism that hadn't settled on Jane for weeks the young pair set off for the farm reunited with the sloper, which itself brought a happy familiarity. Will had talked of how pleased he'd be to get Sunbeam back and how he was keen to get going, but Jane knew that his real impatience lay at the feet of the Hall family.

  Jane was surprised to feel comfort and confidence on the back of the motorcycle; no doubt aided by the reassuring tightness with which she wrapped her arms around Will. She didn't know that he winced as she tightened her grip on his still tender ribcage. Any nerves that came with her first motorcycle ride since the accident were lost amid the excitement of their impending visit. In the growing darkness of Christmas Eve, Jane's mind drifted cloud-like over the morning. Arrangements for Christmas were finalised and packing done, numerous telephone calls were made and her mum reassured and cheered.

  Jane had arranged a get together with Florence, Aggie and Dorothy over lunch, surprised that she'd been able to get hold of her girlfriends and that they'd been free at such short notice. She didn't
know that Florence and Aggie had both confirmed their attendance then hastily cancelled prior engagements without question in order to see her. Aggie and Dorothy were a little surprised, but not bothered, by the choice of venue; it was a small restaurant they'd not visited previously. Despite Will's assumption that normality was restored, in the absence of Mrs Cartlyn's confirmation of this fact, Will wouldn't let Jane return to any of her usual haunts. Florence, of course, harboured no surprise at the virgin venue.

  The girls all greeted each other like they'd been apart for years rather than weeks, the extra fervour due to their awareness that the separation had been ugly, scary.

  The last thing Aggie and Dorothy knew was that Will had been drawn into a deception that was deeper and darker than he had at first known; that Florence had said six words that shocked them all; that the six words were hateful and scandalous but scarily insightful and accurate - apparently giving voice to the only way out.

  The last thing Florence had known was that Jane and Will were back in the city waiting for their very own all clear siren; she didn't know what finally came to pass during their forced exile.

  As she walked to meet her friends Jane decided that they could not know the whole story, not yet. Maybe when the war was long past she would tell the tale from start to end with no censorship. For now she would give a gentle version, a reassuring and abridged version. Jane had wrestled with this decision since arranging their lunch and still fought with it all the way there. She trusted her friends with her life, but wanted to protect not only their bodies (from a force she couldn't see and wasn't sure existed) but also the love and innocence in their hearts; she shielded them from worry and fear like a mother would guard her child.

  As Jane told the simplified and gentler tale, she knew Florence's eyes were upon her. The large eyes veiled a little by the waves of red hair weren't watching with tender care as the other two pairs of eyes did, but with a suspicion borne of knowledge. Florence knew that Jane wasn't serving up the whole story to her friends, but had cut off the juicier, meatier, bloodier parts and kept those safely tucked away.

  Jane's story, and the answers she offered to her friends' concerned questions, didn't take long and she was thankful that she and Florence were able to steer the conversation to safer subjects; what the girls had been doing, their festive preparations and plans, jobs, air raids, rationing.

  Aggie and Dorothy seemed satisfied with the outcome of Jane's recent adventure, having no reason to doubt the diluted story she told. Florence, as Jane knew, wasn't. She hovered a little longer as the girls exchanged Christmas cards and wishes, hugs and kisses, and then parted, hanging back and catching Jane's arm to stop her walking away. Jane turned, knowing and dreading the conversation to come.

  'Well?' Jane sighed and looked into the beautiful but steely eyes of her friend. Jane didn't say anything and Florence continued. 'When we spoke the other day you said you'd answer all my questions when it was over.'

  'I know I did, but I'm not sure it is all over.'

  'Sorry, that's not good enough. You're home so everything must be heading in the right direction.' The two friends looked at each other, almost staring, before Jane reached out and took Florence's hand.

  'Alright. Alright.' The two girls walked away from the restaurant and soon found a bench in a quiet little square. There they sat down, just as they had during Florence's visit to Jane, and Jane told the whole, unedited, bloody and murderous story.

  Purged of her secret once again, Jane felt almost absolved. As dark and surreal as Richmond Row had been, it somehow didn't seem as sordid now someone else, unconnected and sunny, knew the truth.

  When Florence voiced the words, quite independently and unprompted, that Jane had been telling herself for days, they held more credence.

  'Jane, listen to me,' Florence had said as she squeezed Jane's hands gently, 'Hugh was going to die; it doesn't matter when or where, he was going to die. The simple solitary fact is that you and Will were there because Will had been trying to help. Neither of you pulled that trigger and neither of you led those men there, to him.' Florence gently tucked Jane's hair behind her ear, the pair closer than they'd ever been. 'None of it can be changed Jane. I know it will always be with you; it has to be inside you always or you wouldn't be a decent person, but now you have to move on.' Judgement was passed.

  Florence's words drifted away as the wind hit Jane's face on another turn along the winding country lanes. She smiled to herself and held Will tighter, causing him to turn his head slightly in response. Florence must be right; many people had witnessed things that they would never forget but which they locked away. They kept the key safe but almost out of reach. Jane was now one of them. In a bid to start afresh and cleanse her soul she pressed even further into Will's back, closed her eyes tight and sighed deeply in a bid to squeeze the vision from her eyes and expel the feelings from her chest.

  Darkness shrouded Will and Jane as they pulled into the farmyard. No sooner had the engine turned off than the kitchen door was opened and there were hugs and welcomes. Bags were unstrapped from the bike and the visitors ushered indoors. The kitchen was more welcoming than ever and it was clear that, even in here, the children had been busy making Christmas decorations. Newspaper chains were festooned throughout and sprigs of greenery generously balanced on every picture frame and window sill.

  In the living room, where the travellers were shepherded to sit down after their journey, a pretty Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner. It was lovingly decorated with items clearly collected over many years; some bought from shops, others handmade. Beneath the tree, wrapped in a variety of papers and cloths, was a small stack of gifts. The wireless played gently in the background trying bravely to be heard amid the excited bustling of the Hall children and the chatting of the adults. Jane noticed that the mantelpiece was also laden with greenery and decorations made by childish hands. All the normal items that called the mantelpiece home were hidden from view by the festive decorations; except one - Harry's picture had been moved to the fore, left fully on view.

  After the initial excitement of their arrival, Jane was pleased when things calmed a little and she had a moment to herself. She offered to help Maggie in the kitchen but was shooed away kindly as Maggie put the kettle on then disappeared into the large farmhouse pantry. Jane couldn't imagine what emotions rained on Maggie and her family knowing that their loss must be felt even sharper at this time of year when families shared time together or, at the very least, greetings from one another.

  Jane left the warm kitchen and the chatter of the living room and felt the air cooling as she climbed the stairs to her room. She opened the door on the now familiar space to see Will's bag next to hers on the bed. She was surprised that his hadn't been taken straight into the boys' room. Jane sat on the edge of the soft bed and pulled her bag towards her. She was pleased that they'd brought bags and not cases; cases reminded her of their flight to Richmond Row.

  Shaking the memory from her head, Jane opened the smaller of her two bags; it held the gifts she'd hastily pulled together for their visit, now wrapped neatly in paper. Thankfully, Mrs Cartlyn's bag of treasures hadn't been opened again after the initial viewing on the bench; it didn't matter that neither Jane nor Will would use any of the items themselves. Knowing that they had been given by the secretly soft centred old lady was gift enough.

  Although the Halls had expressly asked Will and Jane not to take them any gifts or go to any trouble, the soap, notelets and pen, handkerchiefs, matches box and chocolate were neatly labelled, one for each member of the Hall family. An additional gift was labelled for Will and Jane was pleased that he knew nothing about it. She'd stumbled across a postcard, completely unexpectedly, when she'd started to give up all hope of finding Will a Christmas gift that was both appropriate and affordable. The postcard showed London at night from a very similar spot to that where they'd shared their first picnic and watched the moon send its shimmery messengers to the Thames. The picture wa
s pretty and made Jane happy the moment she saw it. She'd quickly purchased it and found a small frame on the nearby market. A sound on the landing made Jane quickly push the gift to the bottom of the pile.

  Will came into the room.

  'Are you alright?'

  'Yes, just getting the gifts to put under the tree.'

  Will smiled.

  'They'll tell us off you know.' He sat on the bed next to Jane. 'I hope you don't mind, but they've put us in together.'

  'I saw the bags.'

  'I kind of asked.'

  'Kind of?'

  'I asked.'

  'What on earth must they think Will?' Jane looked worried.

  'They think life's brief Jane, that's what they think. And they'd be right. I can't miss a single chance to fall asleep next to you and wake up with you in my arms.'

  A voice called their names from downstairs and the moment of depth, of serious discussion, of romance, was snapped. Sylvie shouted up to them that it was time to put out treats for Father Christmas and his reindeer and Jane and Will responded to the call with childlike enthusiasm.

  Once Sylvie and Jacob were excitedly tucked up in bed, the adults and Daniel sat in the living room listening to the wireless. Four extra glasses of sherry, and half a glass for Daniel, had been poured as Father Christmas's tipple was prepared. Four now sat, glasses in hands, as Jack stood to speak.

  'Here's to the end of war, here's to those still fighting it, here's to King and country and here's to absent loved ones,' he bravely toasted. Maggie, Daniel, Will and Jane all stood to raise their glasses and take a sip. 'Cheers.' Maggie silently wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and Daniel stood straighter as he put his hand on her shoulder, valiantly holding back his own tears. Jack's voice cracked as he looked at Will and Jane. 'Thank you for coming.' Then he added. 'Here's to your safe return to us Will.' Will nodded as he reached out to take Maggie's hand and another toast was raised.