Home Front Girls (50 page)

Now, suddenly, Annabelle could see that she was right and she felt ashamed.

‘I’ll write to Mummy straight away,’ she decided, taking a pen and a writing pad from her bedside locker. ‘And then I’ll go and see Madam and find out when I’ve next got leave so that I can pay Joel a visit.’

‘Hallelujah!’ Hilary rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘The girl
finally
sees sense!’

Annabelle grinned as a little bubble of excitement formed in her stomach. It was time to put things right.

Early in May, Annabelle stepped down from the train in the little station and walked out into the charming cobbled streets of Watchet. It was like stepping back in time as she stared at the pretty thatched cottages, and so peaceful with nothing but the sound of the seagulls to be heard. She breathed in deeply, enjoying the salty tang of the air, then set off in the direction of the convalescent home, which Lucy had told her was perched high on a cliff at the end of the town overlooking the sea.

It was a good half-hour’s walk but she enjoyed being outside after the confines of working in the underground operating theatres of Haslar where she was back assisting the surgeons and sterilising their instruments.

She had left the village behind her some time ago before the home came into view and she thought how lovely it looked, with the sun shining down on it. The sea was breath-takingly blue and twinkled in the sunshine, and for the first time she began to have misgivings. Should she have let Joel know that she was coming? And would she be welcome? She paused, but then taking a deep breath she strode on. There was only way to find out.

A fresh-faced young nurse met her in reception. After asking her who she had come to see, the nurse enquired, ‘Is he expecting you? And are you a relative?’

‘Er . . . . Well, no, he doesn’t know I’m coming and no, I’m not a relative,’ Annabelle flustered.

‘In that case I shall have to have a word with the Ward Sister,’ the nurse informed her. ‘Follow me, please.’

They moved through a labyrinth of corridors and up several flights of stairs before the nurse said, ‘Would you mind waiting here? I’ll just go in and have a word with Sister.’

There were men milling about everywhere and some of them looked at Annabelle curiously. Some were in wheelchairs with the legs of their trousers empty and tucked beneath them. The luckier ones were hobbling about on crutches, but they all seemed happy enough and many of them smiled at her. She smiled back as her heart threatened to leap out of her chest and eventually a Ward Sister appeared and said, ‘I believe you’ve come to see Private Ford?’

Annabelle’s mouth had suddenly gone dry so she nodded. The Sister looked at Annabelle’s uniform and said pleasantly, ‘Did you nurse him whilst he was at Haslar?’

‘Yes, I did,’ Annabelle managed to squeak. ‘But he was already a friend before that.’

‘I see. Then in that case I can see no reason why he shouldn’t have a visitor. He’s doing very well. In fact, we’re hoping to discharge him in a few weeks. Come this way. I think he’s in the day room.’

Annabelle followed the woman down a long corridor and eventually the Sister pointed to a door. ‘You’ll find him in there. He spends a lot of time in that room. Have a nice visit.’

‘I . . . I will. Thank you,’ Annabelle croaked, then wiping her sweaty palms down the side of her uniform she pushed the door open. She found herself in an enormous room with a number of windows that all looked out to sea. No wonder he likes it in here, she thought. The views from the windows really were quite stunning. A table-tennis table stood at one end of the room and comfortable easy chairs were scattered about where little groups of men were playing cards and dominoes and chatting. An enormous bookcase with a large quantity of books on it took up another wall and Annabelle thought what a relaxing room it was. Just the place to come and convalesce. But at first glance there was no sign of Joel. And then she saw him. He was sitting alone at the far end of the room gazing out across the sea and her heart skipped a beat. He had put a little more weight back on, and now that his hair had grown out of the harsh Army cut he looked so much more like the young man she had once met what seemed like a lifetime ago now at his home in Coventry.

As she approached, he glanced around and saw her and after the initial look of shock his face lit up and he rose awkwardly to greet her. He was managing to get about on his own now, she noticed, but he would probably always need a walking stick.

‘Why, what a lovely surprise! Why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I could have dressed up a bit,’ he teased.

‘You look fine just the way you are,’ she said shyly taking a seat next to him, and then they lapsed into silence, each wondering what to say. When they eventually did speak again they both started at once and then both laughed – and it seemed to break the ice.

‘Sorry, you go first. What were you going to say?’ Annabelle said.

‘Just how wonderful you’re looking,’ he mumbled as colour flooded into his cheeks, and Annabelle had to suppress the urge to take him in her arms and kiss him soundly there and then, because she knew in that instant that she had found her soulmate for life.

They talked about what was going on in the war then, and about Lucy, and before they knew it it was coming up to teatime. The afternoon seemed to have flown.

‘What time do you have to go?’ he asked.

‘My train leaves at seven so I’m all right for a while yet. It’s only about half an hour back to the station.’

‘In that case, let’s go outside and get some fresh air before you leave shall we?’ he suggested, and Annabelle followed him gladly. It took him a while to negotiate the stairs but he stubbornly refused any offer of help and her heart twisted as she saw the sweat break out on his forehead.

‘It – it’s good for me to use my leg as much as I can – the doctors told me so,’ he informed her breathlessly. ‘The old muscles are a bit wasted, I’m afraid, after being in bed for so long, but they will get better if I persevere.’

She gnawed on her lip, wishing he would let her help him, but at last they reached the entrance hallway and emerged into the gardens, which were beautiful. Rolling lawns ran down to the clifftops and he led her towards a large oak tree with a bench placed beneath it in the shade.

‘It’s lovely here,’ she whispered as her eyes stared out over the shimmering water, and then her heart began to race again as he gently took her hand in his. Her whole arm seemed to be on fire and it was all she could do not to throw her arms about him. She knew without a doubt that in Joel Ford she had found the love of her life.

‘I heard from Lucy last week,’ he told her now. ‘She’s living somewhere in Cornwall and she sounded happy. She’s lodging with a widow, apparently, who has a little girl about the same age as Mary would have been. Needless to say, Lucy is very taken with her and she’s working at the hairdresser’s that the woman owns.’

‘I heard from Dotty too,’ Annabelle told him. ‘And she’s looking forward to the birth of her first baby. Robert is really excited about it, and her book is flying, by all accounts. She’s almost finished her second one now.’

‘So all’s well that ends well for two of the shop girls,’ he grinned. ‘But what about the third one?’

‘Oh I’m all right,’ Annabelle said hastily as he played with her fingers and lowered his head.

‘Annabelle,’ he whispered gruffly. ‘You know that I’m never going to be the man that I was before the war, don’t you? What I mean is, this leg is never going to be as it was. I’ll always be a cripple and that will seriously impede what job I’m able to do. It’s highly unlikely that I’ll ever be rich or—’

‘Shh.’ She placed her finger on his lips to silence him, and when he raised his head again he saw all the love she felt for him shining in her eyes and hope stirred in his heart. ‘You’ll always be more of a man than any other I’ve ever known – apart from my dad, of course,’ she told him with a twinkle in her eye.

‘Then in that case I’ll say this; none of us knows what’s going to happen with this blasted war or even how much longer it may go on for. But if at the end of it you think you might not mind being saddled with a man with a gammy leg . . .’

‘Is that a proposal?’ she grinned but he shook his head.

‘No, it isn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to tie you to that because as I said, who knows what might happen or if we’ll both still be alive? But if we are . . .’

‘That’s good enough for now,’ she sighed, but then she had no time to say any more because he was kissing her and there were more stars behind her eyes even than there had been in the sky on the night of the Blitz – and the war couldn’t last forever, could it?

The war raged on so slowly that people began to despair and wondered if it would ever end. Four long years passed. Hitler’s next horrors were the V1 and V2 rockets that reduced much of London to rubble, causing countless deaths and immeasurable heartache to thousands. But then in April 1945, as Soviet troops advanced on Berlin and the American troops invaded Okinawa and Nuremberg, Hitler realised that the tide had turned. Not wishing to suffer the same fate as the Italian dictator, Benito Mussolini, who had been killed and mutilated, his body put on public display in Milan, Hitler and his lover, Eva Braun, whom he had married less than forty hours earlier, committed suicide on 30 April in his Führerbunker. The people of England rejoiced as the news reached them, and yet more good news followed at the beginning of May when the German forces surrendered in Italy and Berlin. German forces in Denmark and the Netherlands quickly followed suit, along with the Germans’ surrender in Bavaria, the Channel Islands and Breslau.

On 8 May, Winston Churchill made a radio broadcast during which he announced:
‘Hostilities will end officially at one minute after midnight tonight, but in the interests of saving lives the “Cease fire” began yesterday to be sounded all along the front, and our dear Channel Islands are also to be freed today!’

Victory was official, and suddenly celebrations erupted throughout Europe as people tried to take in the wonderful news that the war was really finally over.

‘I can hardly believe it,’ Mrs P said as she scraped marge on yet another slice of bread to add to the pile already tottering on the table.

‘Well, yer can believe it, me old duck,’ Fred declared with a broad smile. Mrs P stared at the glass of home-brewed ale in his hand. He’d already drunk enough to sink a battleship and the party wasn’t due to start for another hour yet. But then she didn’t want to get on at him today of all days.

‘’Ere, get off that, you little sod,’ she said then, slapping her Barry on the back of the hand with the butter-knife as he pinched a slice of bread. The children had arrived home the night before, and Mrs P was still trying to get used to how big they had grown in the time they had been away. Barry had shot up without a doubt and his younger sister Beryl wasn’t far behind him. A right little madam now she was, but it was so wonderful to have them home. If only . . . she thought then as her thoughts slipped to her Freddy. It was a day for celebration, but like thousands of other families it would be bittersweet as they thought of the loved ones who would not be coming back.

Her eyes went to his photograph in pride of place on the mantelshelf, and seeing her tear-filled eyes, Miranda slid an arm about the woman’s shoulders, feeling her pain. She had come to help with the preparations and hopefully, Annabelle would be arriving from Haslar soon to join them.

‘You must always remember he was a hero,’ Miranda told the older woman gently. ‘And you will always be proud of him.’

‘I will that,’ Mrs P agreed with a loud sniff as she pulled herself together. This was not the time for tears, today of all days. There was plenty of time for them at night when her Fred was softly snoring at the side of her. ‘But what’s happenin’ about your old man? Any idea when he might be comin’ home yet? Oh, an’ yer can use some o’ that Spam fer the sandwiches, an’ some o’ that bloater paste an’ all,’ she added.

‘The Red Cross reckon he could be home within weeks,’ Miranda told her as she obediently started to fill and cut the sandwiches, pressing the slices together with the flat of her hand. ‘But I’m not sure what to expect. It can’t have been a bed of roses stuck in that prison camp.’

‘Happen yer right but just be grateful he is comin’ home,’ Mrs P answered and Miranda nodded, knowing that she was right. Whatever state Richard was in she would welcome him with open arms. As they carried the piled-high plates out to the trestle tables that had been draped with white sheets all down the middle of the street, Mrs P chuckled.

‘Why, it looks a fair treat, don’t it!’ she exclaimed delightedly, and indeed it did. Bunting had been strung from lamp post to lamp post and the Union Jack flags that had been hung from the bedroom windows were fluttering in the breeze. The tables were heaving with food and the older woman commented, ‘I reckon we’ll all starve fer at least a week after today. Rationin’s still in place whether the war’s over or not, an’ I think everyone’s emptied their pantries to make today a good spread. But who cares, eh? It’ll be worth it.’

Further along the street, someone had dragged a piano into the road and now the sound of someone singing ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’ was floating towards them.

‘That’ll be Ma Bennet from number sixty-three,’ Mrs P snorted. ‘She’s always fancied herself as a bit of a songbird, but she won’t never be any competition fer Vera Lynn wi’ a voice like that, will she?’