Past Remembering (39 page)

The boys who planted gardens in the spring are harvesting vegetables, salad and tomatoes between the barracks. Some of them ran a sweepstake as to whether or not we’d be here to eat them,’ unfortunately I lost a cigarette and chocolate ration on the result. There are so many rumours – that the war will finish soon – that it won’t – that it will go on for years – I couldn’t bear the thought of that. Imagine me a wizened, grey-haired old man climbing the hill to Penycoedcae and seeing you, a little, grey-haired old lady sitting in the drawing room with the blinds closed against the glare of the sun, knitting and listening to the wireless.

I’m trying to be funny. The problem is when you don’t know what’s in front of you, it ceases to be funny. I’m sorry I’m whining more than usual, but I have a reason. The RAF bombing raids over here don’t just kill Germans. But you’re not to worry about me, I learned the art of cowardice and staying out of bomb and bullet range a long time ago. Besides, everyone looks after doctors, because they never know when they might need one.

I gave the photograph you sent me to an artist in the camp, and he sketched the children for me. It’s not much, but it’s the only present I can send you. With luck you may get this somewhere around Rachel’s birthday. Give her my love, as there’s nothing else I can send her from here, and tell her and Eddie that they do have a daddy and he loves them very much. One day I hope to show all of you just how much. All my love, Andrew

*……*…….*

Bethan looked up to see her father standing over her. ‘From Andrew?’

‘Yes.’ She wiped a tear from her eye. ‘He sent a sketch of Eddie and Rachel.’

‘It’s well-drawn. You do realise that now Hitler’s been stupid enough to extend his Russian campaign into winter, his eastern army will soon be wiped out.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ve never read
War and Peace?
’

She shook her head.

‘If the Russians don’t get him, their winter will, just as it destroyed Napoleon’s army in 1812.’

‘Dad, if you’re only saying that to make me feel better …’

‘Remember what I’m telling you next spring.’

‘If you’re right, you’ll remind me.’ She smiled at Rachel, who charged down the stairs and into her grandfather’s arms. ‘Are Phyllis and Brian with you?’

‘And Megan, Diana, Billy, Jane and Anne. Wyn’s working, but Tina, Ronnie and Jenny will be up soon.’

She took his arm as they walked into the dining room. Hidden behind the door was the birthday table the older children had set up for Rachel. Parcels wrapped in painted newspaper and brown paper lay heaped on a green cloth embroidered with daisies. The practice strains of ‘Happy birthday to you’ wafted out of the kitchen where Maisie and Liza were unwrapping Phyllis and Megan’s gifts of food.

‘It’s hard being without Andrew on a day like today.’

‘At least I know he’s safe.’

‘And he’ll be home soon.’ He patted her hand.

‘I know, Dad, the Russian winter.’

‘It’s true,’ he protested at her sceptical smile.

‘I’ll talk to you this time next year.’

‘When we’ll be on our way to winning this war. You’ll see.’

Chapter Twenty-one

‘Why haven’t you been to see me?’ Ronnie cornered Diana in the kitchen, where she’d gone to heat the babies’ bottles.

‘Because I told you that night would be the first and last.’ She couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. If she did, she knew she’d break her promise to Wyn.

‘And I thought we agreed that was impossible.’

‘Hush!’ She went to the door, closing it after making sure everyone else was in the dining room serving the children tea. ‘Please, Ronnie, don’t make this any harder for me than it already is.’

‘I can’t go on without seeing you.’

‘I’ve Wyn and Billy to consider.’

‘And us?’ He grabbed her hand and forced her to look at him. ‘You love me, Diana, I know you do.’

‘Find another girl, Ronnie. One who isn’t married.’

‘Your husband can’t ever love you. Not the way I do.’

‘But he
is
my husband, and that’s why I can’t see you again. Not alone like this.’ Blinded by tears she pushed the bottles into a jug. He took it from her, put it on the table and held her gently in his arms. ‘If you love me, Ronnie, please, help me,’ she begged.

The front doorbell rang.

‘The others will wonder what we’re doing if I don’t answer it.’

He looked into her eyes. Seeing her determination and her anguish – he finally released her.

‘This is only for now,’ he warned, holding on to her hand as she slipped away from him. ‘Don’t think I’m giving up on us, because I’m not. And I won’t.’

She gripped his fingers tightly, clinging to them for an instant before walking into the hall.

A man huddled into an army greatcoat, collar up to protect against the snow, stood on the doorstep. ‘Is this where Mrs Raschenko lives?’

Alma recognised the guttural accent even through the closed door of the dining room. Wrenching it open she ran into the passage; she stopped when she saw a small dark man with a Polish officer’s insignia on his shoulder standing in the porch.

‘Mrs Raschenko?’ He removed his cap. ‘I knew your husband. He didn’t do you justice.’ He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘He said you were beautiful; he didn’t tell me you looked like an angel. I’m Captain Melerski, Edmund Melerski, of the Polish Air Force, now seconded to the British Army, at your service.’ He bowed and clicked his heels.

Bethan came out into the hall, with Eddie in one arm and Billy on the other.

‘I’m a friend of Feodor’s,’ he explained.

‘Please come in, Captain.’ Bethan kicked open the kitchen door. ‘If you wouldn’t mind sitting in here, it’s the warmest room in the house.’

‘I’d be grateful.’ He stepped inside.

‘Would you like company?’ Bethan asked Alma tactfully.

‘Please.’

‘Here let me.’ Diana took Billy, starting as though she’d had an electric shock as Ronnie brushed against her and lifted Eddie from Bethan’s arms.

‘We’ll keep everyone out of the way, Beth.’ He walked ahead of Diana into the dining room.

‘Tea, Captain? If you’re hungry we can offer you some eggs and fried potatoes.’

‘Real eggs?’

‘We keep chickens, not that they lay well in this cold weather, but we have some to spare.’

‘I can’t remember the last time I ate a real egg.’

Bethan went to the pantry, took one out of the bowl, thought of Charlie, hoped the captain had brought good news and took two more.

‘I couldn’t possibly. You have children.’

‘And you fight to protect them.’

‘It’s good of you to say so, but I haven’t done much fighting for a while.’ He unbuttoned his greatcoat, folded it neatly and laid it on the end of the bench set before the table. Bethan pulled out the chair closest to the stove for him.

‘But you did fight alongside Feodor?’ Alma ventured.

‘We occasionally worked together. Are you ill?’ he asked tactfully, glancing at her smock.

‘Expecting a baby.’

‘Feodor didn’t tell me.’

‘I wrote to him, I don’t think he got my letter. Have you heard anything?’ she asked nervously.

‘Nothing since he went missing. I can tell you very little about his last known movements or location.’

‘I understand. All I want to know is if he’s alive or dead.’

‘The truth is, Mrs Raschenko, we simply don’t know. This isn’t an official visit. I had to go to Cardiff on business and I asked the CO if I could stop off here.’

He opened his briefcase and removed a brown paper parcel. ‘This is everything Feo left behind on the base.’

Alma’s hands shook as she untied the string and tipped the contents on to the table. It didn’t seem very much to show for a life. A silver cigarette lighter and case. His gold wristwatch. Her photograph in a pocket-sized leather wallet. ‘He didn’t have another one,’ she murmured as she opened it.

‘We have a rule, Mrs Raschenko. Nothing personal can be taken on a mission.’

She put it down and picked up a bundle of letters, including every one she’d written to Charlie since he’d left. All of them were unopened. The topmost envelope was addressed to her in Charlie’s writing.

‘Was he in a battle?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘He was captured by the Germans?’

‘He worked undercover, but then I think you guessed that much.’

She nodded.

‘He along with several others were betrayed.’

‘Then he was captured by the Germans?’

‘That’s all I can tell you, Mrs Raschenko.’

‘Couldn’t you contact the Red Cross and get confirmation?’ Bethan asked.

‘The last thing we want to do is draw attention to him. He wasn’t in uniform.’

‘Then he would have been shot as a spy?’ Alma’s eyes were liquid with misery.

‘We simply don’t know, and to be honest I doubt that we will until after the war is over.’

‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to go upstairs and read the letter.’

Bethan nodded. ‘Put your coat on, it’s cold up there.’

‘I will.’

Bethan sliced the potatoes and tipped them into the fat she’d heated in the frying pan.

‘I wouldn’t have come if I’d known about the baby.’

‘Believe me, anything that will alleviate the suspense Alma’s been living in since she got the telegram that Charlie was missing, will help.’

‘Charlie?’

‘It’s what people called him around here.’

‘I didn’t know.’ The captain left his chair, picked up a fork, and turned the potatoes as Bethan beat the eggs. ‘When will the baby be born?’

‘Christmas.’

‘Will you let me know?’

‘If you wish.’

‘I’d like to write to the child, send him something to keep for the future.’

‘Then you do think Charlie is dead?’

‘Like everyone else, I hope, but I’ve worked in the area where he disappeared. I know the circumstances and what he was up against.’

‘Then …’

‘Please, I can’t say any more than I already have. Feodor was a strong man, a clever man. If it’s possible for anyone to survive, he will.’ He picked up the leather photograph frame. ‘He had a lot to live for,’ he added, almost as an afterthought, unconsciously using the past tense.

Alma sat huddled into a blanket in a chair in Bethan’s small sitting room. Steeling herself, she opened the letter.

My darling wife, Alma,

I am writing this at two in the morning while waiting for my transport out. If you are reading this, something has happened to me, and you will probably not even know that. I have seen horrors in this war that someone as kind, gentle and loving as you, couldn’t even imagine. Savage, inhuman brutality I hope you will never hear about, let alone experience. If I am dead, I will be at peace, remember that, and if I survive I may be forced to return to Russia. If I do, I will never be allowed to return, but I will try to contact you, as I promised, at the end of the war.

Remember me and our life together from time to time, but only the joy we shared, that way you will be able to find happiness with someone else, just as I found happiness with you after Masha. Please, my darling, try to live every day without sorrow or sadness. I only wish it could have been with me. I want you to think of me as dead from this day on. No plans, no destructive false hope. Above all, I beg you to get on with your own life. Be happy, with Ronnie, if you think he deserves you. If you need help, turn to Evan. Thank you for your love, and the last two days in April that I will treasure for as long as I draw breath. I love you with all my heart and soul, goodbye. Feodor

‘Alma?’ Bethan had to call Alma’s name twice before she looked up. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes.’

‘The captain is leaving. Would you like to say goodbye?’

‘Will you say it for me?’

‘Of course.’

‘And apologise to the others. I think I’d like some time on my own.’

‘Of course.’ Bethan closed the door quietly as she left. Alma hadn’t even noticed she’d switched on the electric fire.

Ronnie was waiting in the hall.

‘How is she?’

‘She wants to be alone for a while.’

‘I can understand that, but if there is anything I can do you’ll let me know?’

‘Of course.’

‘Jenny, Tina and I are going with the captain. The snow’s getting thicker and he’s offered us a lift down the hill.’

‘See you soon?’

‘Christmas Day if not before.’ Ronnie kissed Bethan on the cheek. ‘And before I forget, here’s something for my niece.’

‘You spoil her. You’ve already given her a doll.’

‘You’ll have to put these away for when she’s older.’ He pushed the parcel into Bethan’s apron pocket as the others filed into the hall to get their coats.

She didn’t remember the parcel until bedtime. When she unwrapped it, she had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying. Maud’s wedding and engagement rings lay together in a small box, and she could only guess at the pain it had cost Ronnie to part with them.

‘What time did you say Jane came in?’ Haydn glanced impatiently at the clock. He had taken an early train from London to be sure of arriving in Pontypridd by three o’clock, and had been absolutely furious to discover, not only that his wife wasn’t in his father’s house, but that she was working in munitions, and had taken her one day off a week, three days before, to go to Bethan’s daughter’s birthday party.

‘About five,’ Phyllis answered, ‘but the girls sometimes go for a drink afterwards.’

‘In the café?’ Haydn asked suspiciously.

‘The White Hart.’

‘My wife in a pub!’

‘All the girls go there, there’s nothing wrong with it.’

‘No? She promised to love, honour and obey me – now I find out that she’s taken a job and hasn’t told me a thing about it. Then you tell me that she goes out drinking with …’

‘Workmates?’ Phyllis suggested mildly.

Haydn looked down at his daughter, who was sitting on his lap cuddling the teddy bear he’d brought her. ‘What I can’t understand is why she didn’t say anything?’

‘Perhaps she was afraid you’d disapprove.’

‘Too royal. I earn enough to keep her and Anne.’

‘Her job isn’t about money, Haydn,’ Phyllis protested. ‘It’s about doing her bit.’

‘Isn’t it enough that I toured the front?’

‘Not for her. After you left she didn’t know which way to turn. There wasn’t enough to do in the house to keep us both occupied, and then …’ She fell silent, concentrating all her energies on chopping up the lump of tough stewing steak she’d bought.

‘What?’

‘What I was about to say to you would be overstepping the mark.’ Phyllis was sensitive about the position she occupied in the household. As Evan’s mistress she had no rights, especially when it came to criticising his children.

‘You’ve gone this far, you may as well go the whole hog.’

She took a deep breath and came out with what was on her mind. ‘It’s not easy for a wife not knowing where her husband is, or what he’s doing, but it must be a lot harder seeing his face plastered over the newspaper with two beautiful girls.’

‘Jane knew what I did for a living when she married me.’

‘If she knew it involved kissing girls for the photographers, she’s a lot more tolerant and understanding than most wives I know.’

‘It’s five o’clock. I’ll go down the hill to meet her.’

‘You may miss her.’

‘How? It’s a straight up and down hill. If I don’t see her on the way, I’ll call into the Hart.’ He picked up his daughter, gave her a kiss and lifted her into her wooden playpen.

‘There’s no need to hurry back. I’m making a stew and it can be easily warmed up if you’re not here on time to eat it.’

‘We’ll be here.’ Buttoning on his greatcoat he walked out.

‘When we started doing this, I thought it was dreadfully daring; now it’s just one more part of the day,’ Jenny said as she walked into the White Hart with Jane, Ronnie and Judy.

‘The most welcome part,’ Judy said gleefully.

‘Are you girls telling me that I’m going to have to get used to the decadent life?’ Ronnie asked.

‘Stick with me and you’ll do all right,’ Judy flirted. She smiled when she saw Alexander talking to the barman. He was dressed in a suit, so she guessed that he’d had the day off. He really had kept to himself since he had fallen from Jenny’s window. As far as she knew, he hadn’t gone out with, or even talked to, any of the other girls. ‘I’ll get them in,’ she offered, eager to reach the bar before anyone else beat her to it. Opening her handbag she stood alongside Alex and dug him in the ribs. ‘Guess who?’ she grinned.

‘I was sure it was my turn,’ Jane said as she sat down.

‘Never refuse a free drink.’ Maggie took a powder compact and lipstick from her bag, and checked her reflection before adding another coat of bright red vermilion.

‘Face powder and lipstick? Wherever did you get it?’ Jenny begged.

‘Ask no …’

‘Come on. I’d give anything – well, almost anything – for a lipstick.’

‘Six tins of fruit?’ Maggie came back sharply.

‘Two.’

‘Three?’

‘Done.’

‘Here you are.’ Maggie screwed down the lipstick and handed it over. ‘I’ll pick up the tins on the way up.’

‘Seen this one, Jane?’ Sally handed over a newspaper with yet another photograph of Haydn and the Simmonds girls, this time against a London backdrop. The caption read, THEY’RE BACK. ‘You didn’t say he’d finished his tour.’