The Returning Tide Page 16

  Yawning, Katherine put her headphones on fully. ‘So quiet.’ She lit a cigarette. It was one way to stay awake but I wasn’t that keen. Yet the ashtray beside me held two butts, more out of boredom than anything else. In a weird way I preferred the midnight-to-eight shift. I was often sleepy but there was more happening.

  ‘So tell me about your American.’

  My eyes opened wide.

  She smiled. ‘I’m assuming that’s what you’ve been daydreaming about because most of this watch you haven’t been here.’

  I laughed. ‘He’s not mine.’

  ‘Could have fooled me. He didn’t dance with anyone else and the last two Saturdays he’s saved the last dance for you.’

  ‘Lieutenant Webster is a friend.’ I pursed my lips. Even to my ears that was feeble.

  She laughed. ‘Just be careful. Don’t lose your heart. Poor Jane found out the American she’d fallen for had a wife and three children back home.’

  I blinked. ‘How did she find out?’

  ‘She overheard one of the GIs talking to another about her and him and how he’d …’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘How he’d had his way with her.’

  My eyes widened.

  ‘So be careful.’ She smiled. ‘You’re a sensible one but we can all be foolish in love.’ She took a long drag on her cigarette. ‘I should know.’ Katherine was a divorcee, after finding out her husband had another wife three towns away.

  Dah dit dah dah dah dah dit dah came through my headphones. Our call sign, and it was just like someone was speaking my name. My back went straight, my pencil at the ready quickly recording a stream of code. Within minutes a sheet was filled, torn off then handed on to the coders to take away and decipher. A steady stream of messages came in for the remainder of the shift and I didn’t think of Bobby again until I came off watch an hour later. He wouldn’t be having his way with me any time soon. I stopped walking. Had people talked about Amelia that way? I hoped not. I looked out to the harbour, where there was another US vessel. How would I find out if Bobby had a wife at home? Maybe that was why he hadn’t tried anything.

  3 March 1944

  Inside the tunnels it was always the same – a haze of smoke and stale air, whether it was night or day, warm or cold. It was a relief to be outside, and the sun shone down on me as I filled my lungs, pausing on the threshold of the tunnels. The days were becoming longer and the promise of spring showed on the hillside behind me. Dot waved from the distance and I walked to meet her. She’d been to Weymouth.

  ‘Shopping?’ I spied the bag in her hand.

  ‘As usual there was nothing.’

  ‘Then what’s in there?’ I asked, pointing.

  ‘Toothpaste and soap.’ She opened it to show me the contents, then jabbed me in the ribs. ‘Isn’t that your American?’ Ahead of us stood a group of men. Bobby was there, looking out towards the docks away from me, and next to him was a US general, along with two majors, an admiral and Commander Rowse. My glance darted between the commander and Bobby, both handsome men. I walked a little taller as we headed towards the mess. We would have to pass right by them. Why was Bobby here? No, I told myself, I shouldn’t be thinking of things like that. Just seeing the officers together told me whatever was happening was big. Admirals and generals equalled important, and Bobby was with them.

  As we approached the group Commander Rowse looked at us and we saluted. Bobby turned and smiled. My breath caught. Dot and I quickened our steps as we passed them and entered the mess.

  ‘He only has eyes for you.’ Dot winked and I tried to think about food instead of Bobby. I hoped I’d be able to see him soon. It was foolish, but I couldn’t stop it. I dreamt about him and when I wasn’t focused on listening to dits and dahs he was in almost every thought. I had it bad. Amelia would say it was about time. But surely I couldn’t be in love? Lust, yes. All emotions were riding high. When life was so perilous everything was more intense.

  Waiting for me was a letter from Amelia. Guilt needled at me. I hadn’t written to anyone. The last time I tried to it was to congratulate her on her engagement. But I couldn’t find the words. Her thoughts were filled with happiness, high like I had never known. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to read about it.

  1 March 1944

  Darling,

  Something has changed. I can feel your excitement from here. Why won’t you share it with me? You are exhilarated. It’s buzzing around inside of you. You are in love and you haven’t told me. I’m trying not to be crushed, really I am. Hopefully it’s simply that you’ve been too busy to write. Please let that be all. I’d never want to feel that you felt you couldn’t share things with me. I hope it’s not because I would say I told you so because, of course, I couldn’t be mean. I wouldn’t and I am only ever happy for you. Are you silent because he’s an American? You wonder how I know it, but you are forgetting I can sometimes hear your thoughts. Not always, though, and less so now.

  I shall let it go and tell you about Eddie coming down and the celebration we had. Father was here too. I hated that you weren’t but then you did know before everyone. We drank champagne, ate oysters and danced to the gramophone – even Grandmother. Eddie’s mother was happy, happier than I have ever seen her, but that could have been the telephone call from Tom to wish us the best. He, like you, wasn’t with us.

  Don’t hesitate to love. Don’t hold back. You remember Kitty in the village? Her fiancé is dead. She is dealing with it bravely, saying at least she had known love. Don’t waste your life. I know what you’re thinking but I hope you take the chance while you have it.

  Love you always,

  Xxxx

  I held her letter in my hands. How could I forget that she knew my thoughts? These feelings were all so new and unsure I didn’t know what to think. Her way was so tempting. Footsteps sounded in the passage. Pat walked into the cabin.

  ‘Oh, you’re here. I thought you were in the mess. You’ve just had a call from Lieutenant Webster. He wonders if you might be free tomorrow.’ She grinned. ‘I told him you were because we were supposed to go ashore together so I said you’d meet him at ten.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘I did. You may thank me later.’ She ducked as I threw my pencil at her.

  I swallowed, looking at Amelia’s letter. My sister was telling me to take a hold of life now.

  Pat handed me my pencil. ‘Oh, he said to dress warmly.’

  The weather had been bitterly cold the past few days, but just thinking of him had warmth spreading through me.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Go and have fun – just not too much.’ She winked and waltzed out the door chuckling. I glanced at my watch. How would I ever fall asleep now, thinking about Bobby?

  4 March 1944

  The morning was crisp and clear. Frost covered all surfaces and they sparkled in the low and golden morning sunlight. As the train made its way past Chesil Beach I thought about Amelia’s letter. She and Eddie were lovers. I didn’t want to believe it yet I was consumed with curiosity at the same time.

  The train slowed for a moment and I looked up at the mound made of stones and pebbles dividing us from the sweep of beach I knew was on the other side. It was like this war. It blocked our path, kept us from living our lives. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t stopping Amelia – but what if Eddie was killed? In truth, it was quite likely to happen. How would she cope? The odds for Bomber Command were not good – he’d beaten them so far, but what if he didn’t? What would she do if she fell pregnant? Grandmother would never forgive her.

  I shook my head. I was right. Better not to risk anything at all until the war was over, and that included love. It was the only way to come out of this dire thing intact – or at least as intact as one could be. I wasn’t sure if anyone would ever be whole again.

  I stepped off the train. Scanning the platform I didn’t see Bobby so I walked towards the exit, and finally spotted him standing at the edge of the crowd, searching for me. I studied him – so
tall, so strong and so sure. My mouth went dry. He saw me. His serious face broke into a smile that felt brighter than the sun. He headed over to me, his pace quickening and he stopped just before we collided. ‘You made it.’

  ‘You doubted me?’

  ‘Not you, but––’ He stopped and looked behind him as some troops passed by in the distance. ‘Right now nothing is certain.’

  I nodded. We walked out of the station, where a jeep stood waiting. I tilted my head.

  ‘I thought it might be good to escape on this beautiful day,’ he said.

  Escape. What a thought. I climbed in and noted the wicker picnic basket in the back.

  Within minutes we were heading west towards Burton Bradstock where the Americans were camped, but before we reached Abbotsbury we turned off the road and onto a dirt track. HMS Attack, routine and duty felt a long way away. My hair was whipped out of its hold by the wind and lashed across my face as I turned towards Bobby. He wore a leather jacket and sunglasses and looked like something out of a Hollywood film. We wove through the narrow roads, getting occasional glimpses of Lyme Bay, and for that moment I felt far away from the war, even with the barbed wire on the cliffs. I knew if I looked behind us I would see the warships and military build-up on the beaches, but instead I studied Bobby. It was too noisy to speak until he turned onto a small side road that climbed up a hill.

  ‘Where are we heading?’

  He grinned and tapped the side of his nose.

  ‘Or should I really be asking how on earth would you even know this spot existed, wherever it is?’

  Bobby laughed as the jeep climbed further up the hill until the track ran out. He switched the engine off and pulled the basket from the back. ‘I’ll afraid we have to walk from here.’ He took my hand and we headed up the hillside towards a small church-like building. ‘What is it?’ I squinted.

  ‘St Catherine’s Chapel.’ We reached the top of the hill and there below us was the sweep of beach all the way to Portland – painfully beautiful and frightening at the same time. From this viewpoint the reality of the war was totally visible. Bomb defences covered the beach and the expanse of water that separated us from France was fully visible. Yet the air was warming with the sun while daffodils had bloomed near the church. At any other time it would have seemed perfect but the equipment cluttering Chesil Beach told another story.

  ‘Beautiful,’ he said beside me, his breath caressing my cheek. I turned and his lips were so close to mine. I shivered and he pulled me nearer to him, but then I stiffened, thinking of Katherine’s warning. He stepped back and the wind from the sea cooled the air between us.

  ‘Hungry?’

  ‘Yes.’ I couldn’t believe the delights he’d obtained as he set out a blanket and organised the picnic of two chicken legs, some cheese and a beautiful loaf of bread. My stomach growled loudly. He laughed as he put out yet more food including some ham and a can of tinned peaches. My mouth watered at the thought of them.

  ‘Do you know the history of the chapel?’

  He nodded and tucked his hands behind his head, lying back with his eyes closed. His lashes were black and long. My fingers reached towards him but instead I picked up another piece of cheese, enjoying the creamy sweetness with the salt.

  ‘It was part of an abbey destroyed by Henry VIII. Local knowledge says the chapel was built as early as the 1300s for the monks to retreat.’ He opened his eyes and studied me. ‘It was built in honour of St Catherine of Alexandria.’

  ‘Of the Catherine Wheel?’

  ‘The same. They say that local girls come here to pray to find a husband because St Catherine is the patron saint of spinsters and virgins, or at least locally she is.’ A smile crept across his face.

  I frowned. ‘How do you know all this?’

  He sat up and opened the peaches, offering me a bowl. ‘I had a good chat with a local farmer and the vicar in the village church.’

  I cut a peach with a spoon and slipped it into my mouth. The sweet taste hit my tongue and I closed my eyes with the pleasure of it. Bobby leaned back again and watched me as I caught the juice escaping on my fingers then quickly licked them. Even with the embarrassment of an audience it was too good to waste. His smile lit up his blue eyes. Amelia thought all Americans looked like film stars, which I knew wasn’t true at all, but this one did. His quiet good manners belied all the brash antics of so many of the ones I’d met, including the ones who became too friendly on the train back to Attack. The imposed darkness of the blackout seemed to give them more license than they already felt they had. Bobby was different, and I couldn’t say why.

  ‘Tell me about where you come from and about your family,’ I said, eyeing the last peach in the tin. He pushed it towards me. I didn’t refuse.

  ‘Not a lot to say,’ he said. ‘I’m from Massachusetts. I grew up south of Boston in a place called Situate.’ He handed me a napkin. ‘I have a younger sister who’s training to be a teacher. My father is a lawyer and my mother was a nurse.’

  ‘That tells me very little.’

  He smiled. ‘True.’

  ‘Secretive?’ I raised an eyebrow and studied his features: they were defined, clean-cut and very American somehow but there was something in his glance that hinted at more. He wasn’t all on show, and I could see there were depths, especially in those eyes.

  ‘I am what you see.’ He waved his hand from the top of his head down to his feet.

  I laughed. ‘Just like me then.’

  ‘Now we are on to an interesting subject.’

  ‘Boring.’ I glanced at the building and view. I presumed he knew this spot because it was used for surveillance.

  ‘Tell me anyway.’ He rolled to his side and rested propped on his elbow.

  ‘Like you I have a mother, a father and a sister.’

  He grinned. ‘The similarities are astounding.’

  ‘Indeed. My father is a major and a surgeon while my mother is in Cornwall running the local Red Cross and helping my grandmother. The Army took over my uncle’s house, where my grandmother lived, so she had to move to her summer house in Cornwall.’ I paused, thinking of home and feeling the normal twist of loss. ‘Grandmother is doing wonders with knitting needles and has taken to fishing and gardening remarkably well for a woman who didn’t know how to boil water.’ I paused. ‘Actually I’m not sure she can boil water even now.’

  He laughed but then his face went solemn. ‘It can’t be easy having your home taken over.’

  ‘No.’ I looked at the view, picturing Grandmother as she supervised with Aunt Margaret the salvaging of the most precious items to the dower house on Uncle Reg’s estate in Oxfordshire. Then deciding that even that was too close to ‘the hordes’ as she called them. Although she had known some of the officers, it had been too much for her to take.

  ‘It was your father you were waiting for the night we met.’

  I grinned. ‘Yes, he was to take me to dinner, but in the end he arrived with another major and had to cancel.’

  ‘So you should have taken me up on my invitation?’

  ‘Yes.’ I looked at the feast we had picnicked on. This was far better than dinner in the Savoy.

  ‘Tell me more,’ he said.

  I plucked a piece of grass and ran it through my fingers. ‘Not much to tell. My sister is in the WRNS and seems to be enjoying herself immensely.’ I frowned, deciding not mention that I was a twin. ‘She’s gone and become engaged to a pilot and now lives on the edge of despair from letter to letter.’

  ‘You don’t approve of her choice of fiancé? Or is it his role?’

  I tilted my head and studied him. ‘I hadn’t thought of it that way,’ I said, and twisted the blade of grass in my hands. ‘No, Eddie is the right man for her but I don’t see sense in falling in love now.’ I glanced up, wondering what his reaction to this statement would be. ‘There is too much to lose. Any one of us might not be here tomorrow.’ I looked at the chapel. ‘Unlike the local maidens I won’t be praying to St
Catherine until the war is over.’

  ‘You don’t believe in seizing the day – a bit of carpe diem?’

  ‘Yes, and no. Seizing a glorious day like today and enjoying it, by all means. It’s something to hold onto. But letting your heart go and then suffering the loss is unwise.’

  He studied me. ‘And you are wise and clever.’

  I threw the blade of grass at him. ‘You’re making fun of me.’

  ‘Not at all. Just surprised to find someone who thinks so much like myself.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’ His glance connected with mine and despite my words I felt my heart slip sideways for a moment. He picked up my hand and traced my fingers with his. I stopped breathing. Caught in a trance as his light touch against my fingers sent messages across my body, I lost the ability to think or speak. I could only feel.

  He leaned forward and kissed me – his mouth just touching mine. I leaned in, keeping the contact. My head was telling me to stop and my body was urging me closer.

  Suddenly, he pulled back. ‘We can’t risk you getting back late.’

  Or risk my heart, I added silently – although I feared it might be too late on that account.

  Seventeen

  Constantine, Falmouth, Cornwall

  10 September 2015

  It had been a manic few days while some sort of twenty-four-hour bug had made its way through all of Cassie’s staff. Lara and Cassie had been the only two not to succumb, and Lara hadn’t had a moment to consider Grandie or Amelia, or anything else for that matter. Now though all was quiet, so she propped up all the photographs against the wall on the far side of Cassie’s kitchen. It wasn’t a lot to go on – a name and a blurry photograph. Her grandmother Betty wasn’t interested in her own past – while she had loved Lara’s father and cared deeply for Lara and Leo, she had always had an odd relationship with her father, one where there was respect but no warmth. Lara thought back to her conversation with Betty and wondered if Amelia’s untimely death had caused the rift between them, or if they were just two relations who had never really liked each other. It was sad, but it did often happen.