The River Flows On (50 page)

‘See? The wee islands form a natural defensive barrier.’

Kate lifted a teaspoon and drew it between the dishes. ‘Why couldn’t something come through here? Or here? They’ve got submarines, haven’t they, the Germans?’ She lifted her eyes from the tablecloth and looked anxiously at him.

‘Because the channels are too narrow, and too shallow. They’re also partially blocked with old wrecks. They did that the last time - to make a better barrier. Nothing’s going to be able to get through. I’m telling you - it’s as safe as houses up there.’

‘But there’s no guarantee you’ll go to Scapa Flow.’

‘No, but we’ll hope for that, will we?’ He changed the subject. ‘Tell me what you and Grace are going to do today, so I can think about you both while I’m on the train.’

‘Well, first I’ll go and collect her from her Auntie Jessie. Then I’m taking her to the park. Jessie said she might come too, seeing as how it’s Saturday. In the afternoon we’re going to the pictures, and Mary and Peter Watt have asked us to have tea with them tonight. Mary said Peter would see Grace and I home afterwards.’

‘They’re good friends,’ Robbie said. His eyes strayed to the clock.

‘What tram are you going for?’ she asked.

‘I think there’s one about seven.’

‘Ten minutes, then. Are you all ready?’

His eyes were soft. ‘You’re being gey brave, Kate Baxter.’

She sniffed, and raised the back of her hand to her mouth. ‘I’m doing my best!’

‘That’s all any of us can do,’ Robbie said gravely, and rose from the table. ‘Stand up and give me a hug.’

Only just before he left the house did her courage fail: when he kissed her and held her for the final embrace. She swayed against him, her body bending like a reed.

‘Oh, Kate,’ he breathed into her hair, ‘my beautiful, lovely Kate. Be strong, lass. I need you to be strong...’

She took a great shuddering deep breath, forced the tears back and lifted her face to him. Her reward was to see that special slow smile which lit up his grey eyes, the smile that was reserved for her alone. He stroked the chestnut waves back from her forehead. ‘My nut-brown maiden,’ he murmured, and kissed her.

‘I love you, Kate Baxter,’ he said when he lifted his head.

‘And I love you, Robert Baxter.’

Another kiss, deep and passionate.

‘Will I not get dressed quickly and come down to the tram with you?’ she whispered against his mouth.

‘No. Don’t wave to me either. Promise me you’ll go back to bed for a wee while. It’s early yet... and I want to think about you lying there, all warm and cosy.’

‘Robbie-‘

‘Promise me you’ll do that, Kate. Please?’

She could not refuse him.

One last longing look at each other, one last kiss, one last whispered
I love you
. Then he was gone. Kate put her back against the front door and listened to the sound of his footsteps going down the stairs and out of the close.
Oh Robbie, my love!

She couldn’t do it. She ran through to the front room. He was looking up at their window and she could see by the look on his face that he was glad she had broken her promise. He smiled and mouthed to her that the tram was coming. Kate smiled back and blew him a kiss. A grin lighting up his face, he returned the gesture. The tram trundled between them, blocking her view. It seemed to stop for no more than a few seconds before moving off again. Did she imagine a flash of white at one of the windows, a hand waving? She didn’t know.

She watched it for as long as possible, her face pressed up against the glass. Then, with a groan at her own stupidity, she thrust up the sash window and stuck her head out, watching the progress of the tram along Dumbarton Road for another few precious yards until she could see it no more.

‘Hello there, Kate,’ called a familiar voice. ‘Are ye having a hing? Getting a wee bit o’ fresh air?’

She turned her head. It was one of their neighbours, coming back from the shop with a newspaper and rolls for his family’s breakfast.

‘Robbie’s just gone,’ she called down. ‘On the tram.’

The man looked along the road.

‘Do you tell me that?’ He looked up at Kate and smiled. ‘Well, God bless him, eh? You’ll mind and tell us if you need anything while he’s away, hen?’

‘I will,’ she said, returned his wave and drew her head back through the window. She had promised Robbie that she would go back to bed, so she did. She managed ten minutes before she got up again. She got dressed and made the bed. Then she went through to the kitchen to tidy away the breakfast dishes.

‘I just have to get on with it,’ she told herself out loud, surveying the task without enthusiasm. Ach well, the sooner she was finished, the sooner she could go along to Yoker. What she needed today was company. Jessie wouldn’t mind her turning up early. They would drink tea and then they would take Grace to the park. Being with her sister and her daughter would cheer her up.

She reached for the sugar bowl and the milk jug - removing Scapa Flow’s defences, she thought with a wry smile. It’s a good job the War Office doesn’t know about me. Robbie seemed to think the real ones were pretty solid. Safe as houses, he’d said.
Safe as houses.

‘If that man Hitler thinks I’m leaving my house on his account, he’s got another think coming.’

Kate laughed. ‘What are you going to do, Agnes? Send him a strongly worded lawyer’s letter?’

Thirty years old now, she was a mature woman, on an equal footing - and first-name terms - with her mother-in-law. War had finally been declared on 3 September and everyone was just waiting now for it all to start. Agnes Baxter, however, was not the only woman who had stoutly declared that if the yards were going to be working at full tilt for the war effort, she was going to do her bit too - at home in the Yoker. What would she do stuck out in the country? This Hitler was just a bloody nuisance. Like her two sons, she thought bullies had to be faced up to.

Her granddaughter, however, was a different matter, and she had encouraged Kate to make the heart-rending decision that Grace should go off with her Aunt Jessie and her pupils when Britain, en masse, evacuated thousands of its urban children to the safety of countryside two days before the official declaration of war. They were in Perthshire, close enough for Kate to have already made one visit and to be planning another one very soon.

‘Speaking of letters,’ Agnes asked, ‘have you heard from that son o’ mine since he went back after his leave?’

‘I got a letter the other day.’ A mature woman Kate Baxter might be, but she awaited her husband’s letters like any lovesick schoolgirl, and she wrote lots to him.

Dear Robbie,

Well, I’m a working girl once more and guess what? The tracing apprenticeship has gone down to four years and they’re going to give me credit for what I’ve already done, so I’ll be time-served in six months - maybe by the next time you come home on leave! Isn’t that great? The funny thing is that I’m one of the older ones, so the Chief Tracer relies on me to help keep what she calls the silly wee lassies in order. She’s nothing like Miss Nugent (She, I hope and pray, was unique!) I’m enjoying it. There’s a lot of work, but it’s nice having company all day. We have some good laughs - even us oldies who should know better!

She covered several pages, chatty and cheerful, giving him all the news of their families and their friends.

Everybody’s asking for you, by the way. Jessie says that Grace gives you a special mention in her prayers every night. So does Grace’s mother. I’ve tried doing a picture of you, but I’m no good at portraits. Still, it keeps my beautiful easel in use. Have I ever told you about the really handsome man who made it for me?

I will close now so I can get this off first thing tomorrow. I love you always and I miss you more than words can say. Write soon.

All my love,

Kate.

She had no idea how long her letters took to reach him, no idea where he was. She’d got one letter from the training base at the end of August and then nothing for a while. She worried herself sick as news began to filter through of German U-boats attacking British ships.  She missed Grace dreadfully, but in some ways it was a relief to be able to drop the air of cheerful unconcern once she was safely alone, behind her own front door.

The broadcasters and commentators were calling this period the ‘Phoney War’. Nothing much seemed to be happening on land or in the air, and it was to be several months before the two sides got to grips with each other in those areas. As far as the Navy was concerned, however, there was nothing phoney about it. The hostilities were becoming all too real.

When a second letter finally arrived from Robbie at the end of September, Kate pounced on it. She read it so often that it began to tear along the creases.

The hard-learned lesson that careless talk costs lives had not yet been fully understood. There were many, even in the forces themselves, who doubted that the war would last beyond Christmas, so the censorship was erratic, allowing Robbie to tell Kate which ship he was on - although not where he was. Well, not in so many words anyway.

Well, what did I tell you? I’m on a battleship called the Royal Oak and I’m as safe as houses. Remember that? As safe as houses - so you can stop worrying about me.

The sea is everywhere here, even when you’re ashore you’re never very far from it. It gives a particular quality to the light. I’m sure you’d love to paint here. There are lots of ancient monuments, all very mysterious and full of atmosphere. I went to this place called the Ring of Brodgar, a circle of standing stones, you would have loved it. Shall we come here after the war and you can paint them and I can write poetry about them?

I bet Grace is loving the country, and it’ll be good for her - all that fresh air and good food. I’m sure they never eat marge! How the locals are coping with the influx might be another story. All those wee wildies from Yoker and Clydebank!

I try not to think about you all the time - after you gave me a row for not keeping my mind on the job! So instead I just think about you most of the time. Give Grace a big hug and a kiss from her Daddy when you next see her. We two will have to wait for our hugs and kisses. How about staying in bed for about a month when I come home? (I can see you blushing when you read that.)

All my love,

Your Robbie.

P.S. How’s the job going? Hope you’re keeping the silly wee lassies in order. If you see Peter Watt at work, tell him I was asking for him.

Carefully, with a smile, Kate folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. So instead I just think about you most of the time. Thank God. He was in Scapa Flow. As safe as houses.

Chapter 33

Everyone said that it couldn’t be done. He was the kind of man for whom such a statement was a challenge. All the same, when the suggestion was put to him he asked for time to consider. He did, studying the charts and plans carefully before sleeping on it. The next day he told them that he would do it. They congratulated him on his bravery and daring. If he could pull this off it would strike a devastating blow right at the heart of the enemy.

They left their home port at the end of the first week in October. It took them five days to reach their destination. Just before midnight, carefully timed to avoid the strong currents of high and low tide, they squeezed their way between the two islands. It wasn’t easy. They almost didn’t make it. He had to risk coming to the surface to get past the obstacles deliberately placed in the narrow channel to try to block it, but he got past those, and remained undetected. Just after midnight on the morning of 14 October 1939, Lieutenant-Commander Günther Prien brought his U-boat into Scapa Flow. Then he went hunting for a target.