‘I need to go over it, Dad. I know it’s difficult, but will you please listen? It’s important to me, and I’m not sure exactly how much you remember.
‘It was the week before school went back from the holidays. There was nothing much to do, I had good exam results and you agreed that I should go back to school and take my A levels, then go to university and train to be a vet. I was passionate about it. My boyfriend, David, and his friends, Simon and Roger, were going scuba diving to Paros in Greece for a week. Roger came down with shingles . . . or mumps, I can’t remember. Anyway, he couldn’t go. He said if I paid to change the name on the ticket, I could have it.’ She looked over at her father. ‘I told you there was a trip to Greece for the sixth formers and you said I could I go.’
She closed her eyes and recalled how horrible he’d been. He’d said her mother had just died and all she cared about was having a good time. He’d said she was a disgrace to her mother’s memory. She’d cried herself to sleep every night with no notion of how badly her father was hurting, or how badly he needed a pair of arms around him, especially from his sixteen-year-old daughter.
‘Anyway, you kindly came up with the hundred pounds and I went to Greece with David.’ Silence fell over the cottage, each of them lost in their heartbreak.
‘I borrowed it off Bill,’ her father said quietly, breaking the hush with his hurt. ‘I’d just been laid off because of me lungs, but the pension wasn’t enough for all the extras of yer mum’s funeral. They just about cleared me out.’ He sighed as his shoulders slumped. ‘Someone must have informed social services that I was finding it hard, cos they came a-knockin’, wantin’ to come in and see how we lived.’ He swiped his hand across his face and stood straighter, proud, his voice harder. ‘I didn’t want their charity! I wasn’t going to be beholden to anyone so I told them to piss right off. Then Father O’Donnell came to visit so I told him he could piss right off too. They didn’t bother me after that.’
Shelly stared at him. Her father never swore. She had no idea he’d struggled with his finances until he told her about her mum asking for the taxi money on Christmas Eve. It simply never crossed her mind. Knowing how proud her dad was, she could just imagine the scene at the door. Poor social workers. Poor priest. Poor Dad.
‘Anyway, to shorten the story, everything went wrong on that holiday, didn’t it? What a tragedy. Then, nine months later I had a baby boy, DJ, who went straight to his adoptive parents. Broke my heart. I never forgot him, my baby, my child, but I never saw him again – until today.’
Gordon turned from the window and stared at her but she couldn’t read his expression, and she desperately hoped she wasn’t making another mistake.
‘He’s nineteen, of course, studying marine biology at Cambridge. It’s got nothing to do with me, but I can tell you, I’m so proud, Dad. Do you think I could invite him here for Sunday lunch?’
Gordon made a short gurgling noise, a hiccough of sorrow that drew her attention. His hands came up to cover his face, and his shoulders shook.
‘Dad, oh, Dad!’ Shelly jumped up and went to place an arm around his shoulders. ‘I’m so sorry, honestly, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
He shrugged her off, scurried across the room with his face turned away from her, then left for his loft. Shelly started to go after him, but then decided he needed space to deal with his demons.
*
An hour later, Gordon came back into the kitchen and slumped into the dining chair.
Shelly sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t want to upset you, I wanted . . . hoped, you know, that we could all come together as a family, at least once.’ It was her turn to get emotional. ‘I’ve been so lonely.’ She studied her hands.
‘I wish it was gone, all this pain,’ he said.
‘Mum wouldn’t want us hurting like this either.’ She looked up. ‘It’s incredible that my son, your grandson, has found us. Let’s make the most of it, please.’
Gordon was silent for a while, then he spoke gently. ‘I genuinely thought I was doing the right thing, Shelly. You do understand that, don’t you? I had so much pain, and I was at war with the world for the injustice of Maggie’s death. Then you, my little girl, up the duff. Of course it was my fault. I knew I’d driven you away when I should have been there to support you. But I’m human too. We’ll never know if I made the right decision, because we can’t know how things would have turned out for you both if you’d kept the baby. It’s just . . . you were so young, Shelly.’
Shelly recalled the giggling girls in the café. That’s how she must have appeared to her father and in that moment, she understood him completely. She got up, placed her arms around him, and kissed the top of his head. ‘You made the right decision, Dad. In your position, I’d have done exactly the same.’
He sighed and hung his head for a moment. ‘You don’t know what that means to me, Shelly love. All right. Invite him here on Sunday for a roast.’
‘I’m on call next weekend, so the Sunday after, will that be all right for you, Dad?’
He stared at his knees silent for a moment. ‘Well, I’m not sure about that. I’ll have to consult me social calendar, won’t I?’ Then he looked up. Smiling sadly. ‘Of course it’s all right, daft girl.’
CHAPTER 32
GERTIE
Syros, 1916.
WANTING TO SEE A LITTLE more of Syros, we hurried down the gangplank and discovered the town had an energy that we had not experienced before. The place was very different from the sleepy island of Kea.
The town appeared to be a steep hill that ran down into the dark, blue sea. This hill was topped by an imposing, angular building which covered the entire peak. Strong, straight, unembellished walls of sun-bleached yellow were pierced by rows of small rectangular windows, and before it, the largest of many ornate bell-towers.
‘What is that place at the top of the hill, it looks like a prison?’
Josephine looked up and laughed. ‘No, it’s the Catholic monastery of St George. You can walk up there if you want, it’s beautiful inside.’
‘Quite a climb, though, perhaps I’ll save it for next time.’
The rest of the town displayed intense architectural contradictions. Majestic Venetian captains’ houses, and Cyclades white-cube dwellings complemented each other. A town of cathedrals, churches, and chapels of every size and colour from baroque to byzantine, neoclassical to modern. Yet between these painted walls of blue, yellow and white, there existed an air of harmony. Styles of great splendour or simplicity, stood side by side dominating an occasional scramble of vermilion bougainvillea. Each building appeared to have a unique view of the harbour and simply slotted into its own comfortable place.
Josephine and I hurried up and down the steep roads that were mostly steps. We admired the splendour and robust colours of Orthodox churches, and lit candles in ornately carved sand-troughs next to stout oak doors. At the entrance of the sombre Catholic church, we felt minute in the solemn vastness of the building. With no time to explore further, we hurried back down the perilous steps that led to the port and our ship.
*
From the stern railings, we took a last view of Syros. The ship pulled out of the harbour as the sun neared the horizon. From the high deck, we could see the entire amphitheatre that was the town. Now, from a distance, it became clear that the buildings were on two hills, each topped by the largest church in that area with the monastery being the crown.
‘What an enchanting place,’ I said. ‘One day I’m going to return and investigate Syros properly. Just this short glimpse has made me want to come back.’
‘Ah, nothing to do with Manno the mailman then?’ Josephine asked kindly, tilting her head to one side and, as I’d come to realise was her trait, narrowing her eyes mischievously.
*
Dinner was a simple affair: bully beef, boiled potatoes, and large, sweet processed peas. It smelled and tasted wonderful. I sat next to Nurse Josephine, on a table reserved for the
medical staff. The surgeon and a relief doctor joined us and asked about the Britannic’s sinking. I remained quiet, my heart fluttering as Josephine filled them in with all she knew. There was no mention of portholes. To my enormous relief, everyone’s concern seemed to be whether a torpedo or mine sunk the ship that, like the Titanic, was deemed to be unsinkable.
Before retiring for the night, Josephine got on her knees at her bedside and prayed. I wrote a letter to Manno. He had been such a big part of my journey so far that I decided to tell him about the portholes. I had to tell somebody; it was eating me up. I needed to discuss it with an older, wiser person before it slipped out by accident. I thanked him for the way he had cared for us all, and told him I was sorry we parted, and that I would come back one day, if I could. I sealed the letter and placed it in my apron pocket. The post was censored, so the last thing I wanted was for someone to read it. I would post it from whichever port we called into next.
Then I slipped out to search for Perkins and found him on a bed in the medical centre. ‘Ah, here we are. How are you doing, Corporal?’
‘For a soldier with his head sliced open by a twenty-four-foot propeller, arm shattered by the back axle of a three-ton jeep, and leg chopped off by an overzealous surgeon, I can safely say I’m as well as can be expected. Kiss me.’
‘Behave, Corporal! You’re exaggerating, and the man I’ve come to care for is bigger than that.’
‘Do you really care for this wreck of a man, nurse?’ He peered at me with forlorn eyes, a man lost in his situation with no idea how to handle it, and wondering where he will end up. ‘I feel so completely alone. Sometimes, I wish you hadn’t saved me.’
Oh, poor man. ‘Don’t you dare talk like that, Corporal. You have my blood flowing through you, and let me tell you; I am courageous, and I come from a long line of courageous people! So you just gather up all that courageous blood of mine and keep a grip on it, do you understand me, soldier?’
‘He kissed you, I saw. They were taking me on board.’
‘He took a liberty and admittedly I should have slapped him, but I was too shocked, Corporal. Now, no more nonsense. I’ll thank you not to mention it again. Did they feed you?’
‘I think they forgot; but it’s not food I’m hungering after, Nurse Gertie.’
I ignored his boldness. ‘I’ll go and see if I can get you something from the galley.’
‘I love you,’ he said.
‘Don’t talk such nonsense! You hardly know me.’
I dared to glance into his eyes and caught a sudden flash of the truth.
Behind his foolery crouched debilitating fear. I hadn’t considered his situation until that moment but if anything happened in the night, what chance would he have? Even with the aid of crutches, could Perkins traverse the sloping decks of a sinking ship to a lifeboat? Or even get off his bed in time? And could the Corporal swim with only one complete leg? All these things, I realised, must have gone through his mind. The horror of being trapped and alone. In the case of a torpedo hit, watertight doors would be closed before he could get through. He would drown; all alone in the grey hulk.
‘To tell the truth, Corporal, I’m a little afraid after all that happened on the Britannic,’ I said. ‘What are the chances of it happening again?’ I reached for his hand and squeezed it. ‘Do you think the Hun know we’re here? Perhaps they’re following us in one of their U-boats, just waiting for the right moment. What do you think?’
‘I think you really ought to kiss me.’
‘I think you know perfectly well I am not that sort of girl.’
‘That’s why I’ve fallen in love with you.’
‘Stop it, now, or I’ll leave.’
Perkins hitched himself clumsily up onto his elbows, a grimace of pain distorting his handsome face. ‘You’re perfectly lovely; do you know that?’ he said.
When I placed my hand on his cheek to test his temperature, he took hold of my wrist and held it there, pressing his face against my hand.
‘Is it hurting a lot?’ I asked, searching his features, hoping my attention would work the magic of healing him. ‘You must be very tired, pain is so wearing and although you’re very brave, I see through your act, Corporal.’
His smile was slightly mocking, yet his eyes were so feverishly bright, I prayed he was not falling foul of gangrene or sepsis.
‘Call me “darling” and mean it – give me just one kiss to take with me – then if I die in this damned war, at least I can take that to heaven with me.’
I peered into his eyes and saw the truth; his fear, his tenderness, and there was love in the way he gazed at me too. My heart beat hard for all the young soldiers, and for what this war might do to them. The injustice of it. The pain they would endure, and the tears of their families who would never see their boys again.
Without realising, I moved my face towards him and found my lips on his and his hand on the back of my head. His breathing became laboured and instinctively, I realised I should move away. My face was on fire, and my heart almost bursting from my chest.
‘I love you, nurse. Promise you’ll find me when you come back to Blighty?’
‘Oh goodness,’ I whispered, pulling away from him, feeling his kiss still on my lips. ‘That’s enough of that now.’ His eyes were sparkling. I’d never seen him looking quite so happy and it made me glad . . . Glad, and powerful, and generous, and in control. ‘Now, you must tell me how we will avoid Kaiser Bill’s torpedoes,’ I said in little more than a whisper. ‘For my heart’s very afraid of what might happen.’
‘You can give your heart to me, Gertie Smith, I will take good care of it, I give you my word.’
Oh, I felt myself melting away with his lovely words, but did he mean them? I was not sure. His injuries were bound to change his mood, Nurse Josephine had already told me this. He only meant half the things he said. ‘Dear Corporal Perkins, I’m sure you have many fine ladies awaiting your return to Blighty.’
‘Don’t try and change the subject, nurse. You must kiss me again. That was the best medicine and must be administered every three hours for a speedy recovery.’
‘Behave, Corporal. You must be delirious. Perhaps I should use my initiative and get the orderlies to prepare an ice bath.’
‘Ice? Where would they get that on a ship in the Mediterranean? I think I’m safe.’ He winced again.
‘What is it?’ I took his hand.
‘It’s my foot, my right foot. Strange as I haven’t got one.’ Suddenly he was angry. ‘The pain goes on throbbing, though they cut it off a month ago.’ He reached down towards the missing limb. ‘Damn queer when you reason. I feel it’s still there, sometimes it even itches.’ He glowered at me for a moment. ‘Do you think my foot believes it’s still attached to me, down there on the bottom of the sea? No, of course not, it will be long gone, won’t it. Eaten by crabs and scavenging fish. Perhaps that’s what I’m feeling! What do you think? Is my old foot playing this cruel game, or is it my brain making fun of the poor cripple? How many times do I feel a twinge, a twitch, a little pain, then I look down and realise, I’ve been fooled again.’ His bitter laughter would have curdled cream. ‘How do you scratch the itch of a phantom limb?’
‘You’re just tired, Corporal. You need all the rest you can get in order to heal properly.’
‘Tired!’ he yelled angrily.
‘Shush now,’ I said, startled. ‘I’m not supposed to be here. You’ll get me into trouble.’
He lowered his voice and seemed to calm down a little. ‘What will become of us, Nurse Gertie? What chance have we got together? You’re young and healthy and very beautiful and if I close my eyes and dream, I see you with our child on your hip.’
‘A child . . . Oh my.’ I humoured him. ‘Is it a boy, or a girl?’
‘We will have a boy and a girl, I guess, so take your pick. First, I will marry you, naturally, and build you a fine house, the best, admired by everyone. You’ll be so incredibly happy you’ll be laughing a
ll the time.’
‘Aren’t we going a little fast here? I came in to check your dressing and five minutes later I’m married with a child on my hip!’ I smiled. ‘Anyway, I think you have a fine imagination for someone who’s never even heard me laugh.’
‘Of course I’ve heard you laugh, let me think now . . .’ He screwed his face up. ‘Ah, yes, it was on the Britannic. Wait, it’s coming back . . .’ He lifted a finger and closed his eyes for a second. ‘You were left in charge of us by boss woman. You were being too hoity-toity by far, then the bedpans toppled and there was poop everywhere and we laughed so much.’ He stopped and chuckled. ‘I’ve never seen anyone go so red in all my life before, your face was scarlet.’ He paused, squinting at nothing. ‘I’d forgotten all that . . .’ He frowned, clearly trying to remember the incident more clearly.
Horrified, the last thing I wanted was him dwelling on his last morning aboard the Britannic. I had to change the subject. ‘Seriously now, tell me how we’ll avoid the Hun’s torpedoes? I’m a little anxious, to tell the truth, afraid after all that’s happened.’
He returned to now. ‘I think the admiralty ask themselves that same question every time a vessel leaves port, Nurse Gertie. They’ll be zig-zagging to avoid enemy torpedoes, don’t you worry.’
I heard the bravado in his voice. The very idea that he should protect me made him feel stronger.
‘We could sleep on deck. What do you think?’ I asked.
‘We’re probably safer here, below. You can stay if you’re afraid.’
The tension in his voice made my heart squeeze. ‘Thank you, I’d feel safer. I’ll get the lifesavers, just in case, and pull two chairs together to fix myself a bed.’
‘My blanket’s in that kit bag in the corner, make yourself comfortable.’
I found the lifesaver locker and took two cork and canvas belts out, then pulled the grey army issue blanket from Perkins’s duffel. Once I was settled beside his bed, he reached for my hand again.
He stared at the ceiling. ‘I don’t remember much from the Britannic,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten how we teased you. Was that the same morning?’ he said casually. ‘I don’t remember anything much from before the lifeboat. That was the nightmare. Everyone screaming, panicked, climbing over each other to get to the back. I can see their faces, mouths and eyes open wide, hysterical, but the only noise was the ear-bursting racket from the propellers . . . then nothing until I woke in your arms.’
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