The cruelty of war was nothing to do with punishment, or the Virgin Mary, it was war, randomly affecting innocent and guilty alike. Wearily, Kate closed her sightless eyes, lay back against the wall and began to cry soundlessly.
In the evening, Hari came to see her and Kate held out her arms. ‘Give me a warm cuddle, Hari, it’s been a hell of a day.’
‘I know, I heard there was a raid, a few killed, one of them a little girl in the same shelter as you. Oh, Kate, when will it end?’ Hari sounded downhearted and Kate hugged her harder.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Such a lot, Kate. First of all I was supposed to go to London, take a message to the prime minister himself but my jeep got burned and then—’ she caught back a sob—I found poor Mr Evans dead, his little dog in his arms.’
‘That’s terrible, but then war is terrible. What else is bothering you, is it Meryl?’
‘No, Meryl’s all right. It’s Father, he’s been injured and he’s in hospital—wounded—but not too badly.’ She hesitated. ‘Lost a foot but he’ll be home once he’s recovered.’
‘What do you feel about that, having him home I mean?’
‘Mixed feelings to be honest; I don’t really know my father all that well. He was in the army remember? Before the war started, it was his career. What he’ll be like as an invalid I don’t know. To be really honest, I’m dreading having him home again.’
‘You’ll still have to work,’ Kate said. ‘Chin up, your life won’t change very much at all. Your daddy will have to learn to fend for himself. I know he’s posh, an officer and all that but he’ll have to learn to cook, to handle coupons like the rest of us.’ Kate smiled into her darkness.
‘Good thing your Meryl is out of the way, she’s a tough one, speaks her mind without thinking. Sparks would fly if she was in the house with your dad, so be thankful for small mercies.’
‘Anyway, never mind all that,’ Hari said, ‘I’ve come to ask, do you want to come on a trip with me to the hospital to see Father? I’ll have a few days’ compassionate leave, I can borrow a car and just enough petrol to get us there and back and we can stay in a little boarding house down the coast.’
For a moment Kate was frightened, how would she be away from her familiar surroundings? She was safe in Hilda’s house, she knew the layout of the furniture, knew the feel of her little bedroom. Loved the comfort of her bed, the bed that had once been her Eddie’s. She almost said she couldn’t go.
She hesitated, she was young, she couldn’t spend her life like a hermit, she needed to get out and about and to live as normal a life as she could.
Hari sensed her hesitation. ‘Please come, Kate, I need you.’ Hari’s usually self-composed voice trembled. ‘Please, Kate, I can’t face it all alone.’
‘I’ll come! What an adventure, a ride to the South Coast! You bet I’ll come.’ Kate was shaking inside but her voice gave no sign of it. ‘When?’
‘Tomorrow afternoon—is that all right?’
‘In that case—’ Kate forced some enthusiasm into her voice—‘you’d better help me to pack some undies and things.’
Hari laughed happily and Kate felt her friend’s arm around her waist. She stiffened, fearing pain, and Hari released her at once.
‘Don’t worry, Kate, I’ll look after you, always.’ It was a vow said with conviction and Kate, all at once, was comforted.
Nineteen
I clung to Michael’s hands. ‘I don’t want to go back to Swansea, I’m happy here with you. And with Aunt Jessie as well.’
‘It’s only a visit, you’re going to see your father that’s all. In any case it’s not until a few weeks’ time. Why worry about it now?’
He didn’t understand, he was my life, I loved him and not any longer as a child hero-worships an older man. I loved his cow’s lick of hair, his broadness, his big hands, his clever, ice-blue eyes. I loved his easy affection for me even as I wanted more.
I wanted him to see me as a woman. Couldn’t he tell the changes in me, my blossoming breasts, my tallness, the womanly curves of my hips?
‘Your Hari’s gone down to the coast to see your father in the military hospital, when she comes back she’ll tell you all the news, it will be all right, you’ll see.’
‘I don’t want to go back to live in Swansea and look after him.’ I knew I sounded like a sulky little girl then.
‘Don’t be silly, you won’t have to, you’re still at school. In any case Swansea’s still being heavily bombed, the dreaded “authorities” won’t want children going back to all that danger, where’s your common sense, Meryl?’
I was comforted, his words had the ring of truth. Of course I still had to go to school and I loved the little school outside the village; our history teacher was a grumpy old man but he knew how to inspire, how to make even dull history exciting.
Mr Funnel drew pictures on the board, showed us maps of where the Germans were. He had been in the other war, the big bad first World War against Germany and he hated the enemy savagely. I sometimes wished he could know Michael, who had a German father but who was good and kind and wouldn’t hurt any living creature, but that was a secret I would carry with me to the grave if I had to.
Michael was taking me for an evening walk just as the sun was dying over the fields of ripe corn. The cows, milked and content, stood patiently in the grass, bending now and then to graze, not hungry but wanting the cud in soft mouths to chew and ruminate and be at peace with themselves. The bovine life was all gentleness and if I was gifted with words I would have written poems to the animals, poems about stoicism and yielding sweet milk for the needs of others.
‘Come on, little monster, let’s head back.’ Michael spun me around and held me facing him. I leaned forward and planted a kiss on his mouth and lingered. And then he pushed me away and laughed.
‘Hey, miss! Don’t act like that in Swansea or you’re likely to be taken advantage of.’
If only he would take advantage of me, hug me close, kiss me deeply, caress my shoulders, touch my hair with loving hands, look at me with loving eyes. But Michael was striding away.
‘Come on, keep up, your legs are nearly as long as mine.’ So Michael had noticed my legs. All at once I was warm. There was hope for us yet.
Aunt Jessie looked us over carefully when we went into the kitchen. ‘You two are like hobos,’ she said, ‘go and get washed up the pair of you, you stink of animals and the fields.’
‘Come on, squirt.’ Michael caught me around the neck with his big hand. I’ll get the hot water for you.’
He prepared the big tin bath, laid towels out for me, presented me with a new bar of soap as if it was a wonderful gift. Of course, these days, it was. I could hear Aunt Jessie calling him.
‘Don’t stay in too long,’ was his parting shot, ‘I’ve got to get in there after you.’ Then with a mischievous look on his face, ‘And no doing, you know what, in the water.’
I blushed furiously. As if I would. I could hear the rumble of voices from the kitchen but couldn’t distinguish the words. But then Aunt Jessie raised her voice.
‘She’s not a child any more, open your eyes Michael, she’s a very beautiful young lady and I’ve seen that George Dixon hanging about, carrying her books, all that sort of thing.’
I stifled a laugh. Georgie Porgy had no chance of going out with me. I wanted to hear what Michael would reply but his voice was low.
Aunt Jessie again. ‘Sometimes you men won’t see what’s under your nose.’ I think she meant me. Did Michael want to find other girlfriends then? Did he already have someone in the village? He didn’t go out of an evening much it was true but then there were farmers’ markets, meetings to talk about boring things like cattle fodder and, even worse, manure for the land, or lime, or the latest milking machine. How did I really know what Michael’s life was all about? And then of course there was my sister Hari.