Lost Angel (12 page)

Hilda took Ellen to live in Hampshire and, as Gertie had said, the cottage wasn’t much, but at least this time they weren’t stuck in the middle of nowhere. They were on the borders of Hampshire and Wiltshire in a nice little village. The girl who owned the cottage had let them have it rent-free, and Hilda would for ever be grateful for that.

Money was tight, though, and it was a struggle to pay the rent on their flat in Clapham, but fearful of being homeless again, Hilda was determined to keep it up. She knew it was silly, that the place might not survive the rocket attacks, but if it did, at least they’d have a home to go back to when the war was finally over.

So far she hadn’t found any work. The village was surrounded by farmland and soon Hilda knew she’d have to try the nearest farm, but dreaded the thought of working outdoors again in all weathers. She had hated it in Somerset, but now when Hilda
thought back to her time there, she at last acknowledged that she’d played a part in what happened. Gertie had the feelings of a man and, when the hugs had started, Hilda realised now she should have stopped them. Instead, by saying nothing, she’d led Gertie on, given her false hope, and that had been cruel. When things had gone too far, she’d used it as an excuse to return to London, and look what had happened. She’d lost her baby, then Doug, and, not only that, when the bombings started again, followed by rocket attacks, her selfish decision had put Ellen at risk.

‘I’m home,’ Ellen called, nose bright red from the cold wind outside as she came in. ‘What’s for dinner? I’m starving.’

Hilda’s breath caught in her throat at Ellen’s striking resemblance to Doug, her daughter all she had left of him now. It had been selfish not to have her evacuated away from danger, but thanks to Gertie she’d been brought to her senses.

‘Hello, pet, we’re having egg and chips,’ Hilda told her. ‘How was school?’

‘It was all right.’

As Hilda began to peel potatoes, her mind drifted again. Though she liked Hampshire, she missed Mabel, but her friend had refused her offer to share the cottage. With Percy at work there, Mabel felt unable to leave London, her thoughts only for her eldest son.

Despite feeling safe here, with money tight there had been a moment when Hilda had considered going back to London again, and that had been when news broke that British troops had found and destroyed the V1 launch sites in France. Hilda was glad that she had changed her mind, because in September Germany unleashed an even more terrifying weapon than the V1.

She glanced out of the window, the back garden bleak. It was now November, but when they’d arrived, though a little late for much planting, Ellen had taken it over, her daughter a dab hand at growing vegetables in the lovely, rich soil.

‘Mum, when I leave school, I think I can get a job on the farm. I’d be in the dairy, making butter and cheese.’

Last week it had been Ellen’s birthday. She was fourteen now, leaving the village school at the end of term, but to Hilda she was still a child. If she had her way, Ellen would continue on at school, but – no doubt because of all they had been through – she hadn’t passed the examination that would have allowed her to continue her education. Hilda turned from her task to ask, ‘Do you fancy working in a dairy?’

‘Not really, but it’s better than nothing.’

‘Maybe I could get a job there too. The extra money would come in handy.’

‘That’s probably Sheila,’ Ellen said, as the
doorbell rang and she went to answer it. ‘I said I’d lend her one of my books.’

Hilda smiled, pleased that Ellen had settled so well and made new friends, but moments later there was an excited shout.

‘Mum! Look!’

Hilda spun around, a potato falling from her hand in shock.

‘Mabel, Billy, what on earth are you doing here?’

‘Can you put us up, Hilda? I can’t stand it any more. I had to get out of London, but don’t worry, I’ll pay me way.’

‘Of course I can put you up, but what’s happened?’

‘Nothing…well, not yet…but it’s them V2s. I’m so scared I’m nearly going out of my mind. Percy made me come here, but I hate leaving him behind.’

‘Sit down – you too, Billy – and it looks like you could both do with a cup of tea.’

‘Thanks, and what a bloody journey. Now are you sure you’ve got room for us?’

‘Ellen can double up with me, leaving the other two rooms for you and Billy.’

‘I don’t want to put you out.’

‘Mabel, I’m chuffed you’re here,’ Hilda insisted and she meant it, though she looked doubtfully at Billy. He was a little bugger, but, she mused,
a lovable one. Goodness knows though what they’d make of him in the village.

Ellen eyed Billy warily, unhappy that he’d be staying with them. If it had been Percy, she wouldn’t have minded. Unlike Billy he was nice, and she would never forget his kindness when her dad had died. Or Lucy – it would have been smashing if it had been Lucy – but Dora and Lucy had moved out of London before them and she wondered where they were now.

‘Blimey, how do you stand this dead-and-alive hole?’ Billy asked.

‘Now then, I warned you,’ Mabel said. ‘It’s good of Hilda to put us up and like it or not, you’ll have to make the best of it.’

‘Ellen, take Billy upstairs and show him the back bedroom,’ her mother said. ‘He can sleep in there.’

‘Do I have to?’

‘Yes, you do.’

‘Billy, take our cases with you,’ Mabel said.

‘Yes, madam,’ Billy said affecting a haughty tone. ‘But hasn’t anyone told you that slavery has been abolished?’

‘You cheeky sod,’ Mabel snapped. ‘One of these days you’ll push me too far. Now just do as you’re told and take our stuff upstairs.’

‘Put your mum’s case in the other single bedroom,’ Hilda called.

‘Yes, madam,’ Billy said again as he paused to give a little bow. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you while I’m at it? I mean, you could always stick a broom up me arse and I’ll sweep the floor.’

‘Billy!’ Mabel yelled.

Ellen expected her mother to be annoyed, but instead she doubled up with laughter.

‘Oh…oh, Mabel,’ she managed to gasp. ‘You can’t help but love the cheeky little sod.’

‘Love him! I’ll bleedin’ kill him!’ But then Mabel too began to laugh, tears of mirth soon rolling down their cheeks.

Ellen shook her head, bewildered as she led Billy upstairs. It was strange to hear her mum laughing again, but sort of nice too. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad having Billy here, and, not only that, for the first time she had noticed how good looking he was.

‘Billy is so funny,’ Hilda said when she had finally managed to stop laughing.

‘Yeah, I’ll admit that, but don’t let him fool you. He may be a looker and a charmer, but he can’t pull the wool over my eyes. There’s something not right about him, Hilda, something sneaky, and he’s been nothing but trouble since the day he was born.’

‘He can’t be all bad.’

‘I hope not, and though I moan about him, I love
the little sod. Percy tries to make him see sense, but Billy just doesn’t seem to care about anyone else’s feelings but his own.’

‘I expect all lads of his age are the same.’

Mabel didn’t look convinced so, changing the subject, Hilda asked, ‘Has it been rough in London?’

‘Hilda, if you thought those V1s were frightening, believe me, they were nothing compared to the V2,’ Mabel said, sober now as she continued. ‘At first I couldn’t understand what was going on. You’d hear a loud bang before the sound of the engine, and Percy said it’s because the bloody things can fly faster than the speed of sound. It’s all double Dutch to me, but when they hit you hear an almighty explosion, and even at a quarter of a mile away the force of it can shatter your windows or washbasins. I dread to think what would happen if one hit any closer. There’s no warning, Hilda, no chance to dive for cover, and one that hit Battersea left a ten-foot crater.’

Hilda could hear a tremor in Mabel’s voice and said gently, ‘You’re safe now.’

‘What about my Percy? He wouldn’t leave the factory and is still there.’

‘Our troops destroyed the V1 launch sites, and I’m sure they’ll do the same with the V2s.’

‘Things are never gonna be the same, Hilda.’

‘What do you mean, love?’

‘We grew up in the same street, went to the same school, and when we got married we stayed in the area. We knew nearly everyone around us, family, friends, our neighbours, but that way of life has gone now. Thanks to the bloomin’ Luftwaffe we were forced to leave Battersea, as have so many of the folks we knew, and Gawd knows where they are now. Clapham was all right, and I settled down, especially having you living downstairs, but now we’ve both been forced to leave there too.’

‘We’ll go back as soon as this rotten war is over. Now come on, buck up and give me a hand with getting our dinner,’ Hilda urged in an attempt to cheer her friend up. Like her, Mabel must feel as if she’d been forced from pillar to post, but at least they were safe here with a roof over their heads, however temporary. ‘I’m afraid it’s only fresh egg and chips though.’

‘Eggs! Real eggs?’

‘Most of the locals keep chickens so, yes, real ones.’

‘Blimey, what a treat,’ Mabel said, smiling again. ‘I think I’m gonna like it here.’

Billy looked around the small room and then flung his case on the bed. He wandered over to the tiny leaded window, his heart sinking. All he could see were a few cottages with fields behind, and doubted
there’d be any rich pickings around here. He hated leaving London, his mates and the few bob they made. If his mum found out what he got up to, she’d go barmy, despite the fact that she bought stuff from Harry that was obviously nicked. What a joke. Harry had the right idea and, as he’d told Billy on the sly, he was making money while the going was good.

He turned from the window, asking Ellen, ‘What do you get up to around here?’

‘The school’s nice, but I’ll be leaving soon. I like walking, exploring the woods and things like that.’

Billy shook his head in disgust. Woods, what good was exploring woods? There had to be a way of making a few bob and tomorrow he’d make a start on finding it. For now, he followed Ellen to the opposite room, and, after leaving his mother’s case, they went back downstairs.

‘Wash your hands, you two,’ Hilda said. ‘Dinner won’t be long.’

Billy stared at the eggs in a bowl, gobsmacked. Real eggs! Bloody hell, in London he could make a bomb selling them. But he wasn’t in London, he was stuck here, and once again his heart sank.

They had all eaten their dinner and sat back, replete, Mabel saying, ‘That was smashing, Hilda.’

‘It wasn’t much. Mind you, there’s still more
fresh produce here than in London. With nearly everyone growing vegetables, us too, they aren’t in short supply, nor are chickens and eggs. There aren’t long queues at the village shop either and that’s a treat in itself.’

‘No queues! It must be like living in a different world here.’

‘It is, Mabel, and this time, I don’t miss London.’

‘Nor me,’ Ellen said, ‘well, except for Lucy.’

‘Have you heard from Dora?’ Hilda asked Mabel.

‘No, not a word so I couldn’t write to tell her I was leaving.’

‘What about Jack? Have you heard from him?’

‘Yes, and he’s still in Burma, fighting alongside the Gurkhas. He’s got nothing but praise for them but, as usual, his letters are heavily censored.’

‘Yes, Doug’s were too,’ Hilda said, a surge of grief knotting her stomach.

‘You’ve had a rough time of it, Hilda,’ said Mabel, as though sensing her feelings.

Hilda nodded, and then put her hand into her apron pocket, feeling for the cross and chain. She wanted to wear it again, to bring it into the open, so pulling it out she held it up.

‘Ellen, when you ripped this off, Mabel wasn’t sure what to do with it so gave it to me for safe-keeping. I should give it back to you, but if you don’t mind, I…I’d like to keep it.’

‘Yes, keep it. I don’t want it.’

Billy shoved back his chair. ‘Mum, I’m going for a scout around.’

‘Oh, I dunno about that.’

‘It’s all right, Mabel. He can’t come to any harm around here – well, other than getting lost.’

‘I’ll go with him,’ Ellen offered.

Billy put his coat on, saying abruptly, ‘Right then, if you’re coming, get a move on.’

‘Give me a chance to put my coat on too!’

‘All right, keep yer hair on.’

Ellen marched out ahead of Billy and, shaking her head, Mabel said, ‘Oh dear, I reckon sparks might fly between those two.’

‘You could be right,’ Hilda agreed. But what sort of sparks? So far Ellen had never given her a moment of worry, but with Billy in such close proximity she’d have to keep an eye on her daughter. No, she was being silly. Ellen was still only fourteen, far too young to be thinking about boys, Hilda decided, comforted by the thought.

‘I hope that lad behaves himself,’ Mabel said.

‘There isn’t much he can get up to around here,’ Hilda told her, unaware that Billy had already scrambled over a wall into the grounds of the nearby manor house, while Ellen was frantically calling him back.

By the end of January the following year, the change in Billy was already remarkable. When he’d jumped over the manor house wall, Billy had discovered stables, horses, and been instantly smitten. Instead of getting into trouble as his mother had expected, he’d found a mentor in the head groom, an old man who was so desperate for help that he’d taken Billy under his wing.

Billy now worked at the stables, loving it so much that he even went in on his days off, spending more time there than in the cottage, which, Ellen tried to assure herself, suited her just fine.

It was Friday, freezing outside, snow that had fallen during the night thick on the ground. Billy was up at the crack of dawn and had already left by the time Ellen got up to find her mother and Mabel talking about him.

‘I’d never have believed it,’ Mabel was saying.
‘Who’d have thought my Billy would be happy to get out of bed at six in the morning, let alone going out in this weather? Mind you, he might seem like a different lad now, but he’s still got that selfish streak. I asked him to write to his dad and you’d think he’d be worried about him, but no, he couldn’t be bothered. The only thing he seems to care about is horses.’

Yes, Ellen thought, Billy was so potty about horses that he never spared her a glance.

‘Good morning,’ she said.

They both turned, Mabel saying, ‘Hello, Ellen, you’re up then. It’s nice that you haven’t got work today.’

‘Yes, but I’ve got to go in this weekend,’ she said, dreading the thought. When they’d left school, she and her best friend Sheila had both found jobs working in the dairy. Ellen didn’t like it, hated the task of churning milk into butter and, much to the farmer’s wife’s annoyance, she still hadn’t mastered the art of forming the freshly made butter into nice neat little shapes with wooden paddles. The smell of cream, of cheese-making, made her feel sick, and then there was endless cleaning too, along with scalding the pails.

‘It’s a shame there weren’t any more vacancies, but to be honest, now you’re here, Mabel, the extra money you put into the pot makes all the difference and I can just about manage without finding
a job. All there would have been is farm work and I really don’t fancy that.’

‘Me neither, but it’s easier for me. I’ve got the money Jack allows me, plus Percy stumps up a fair bit of his wages, and now Billy’s working too – not that he earns much.’

‘I don’t either,’ Ellen complained.

‘I’ll get your breakfast. Will a couple of bits of toast do?’

‘Yes, Mum, that’s fine and I’ll have it with jam.’

‘There’s only a bit in the jar, enough for you, but I’ll have to see if Mrs Jones will sell us another one.’

‘She makes nice jam,’ Mabel said. ‘I’m going to the village shop to see if there’s any letters. I’ll stop at her cottage on the way.’

‘I’ll go,’ Ellen offered.

‘Bless you, love, but it’s enough to freeze your socks off out there.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘All right, though wrap up warm,’ Mabel warned.

Ellen smiled. Having Mabel living with them was like having two mothers; both caring, but at least Mabel didn’t treat her like a child.

After breakfast, Ellen stepped outside into the biting cold and at first hurried along, but then, struck by how pretty everything looked, she slowed. The skeletal branches of the trees, heavy with snow,
looked lovely, the hedgerows too, and the fields a blanket of white that stretched far into the distance.

The church spire could be seen in the distance, but she hadn’t been inside. It wasn’t a Baptist church and Ellen didn’t know what it would be like, how the service would be conducted, or what sort of hymns they sang – yet sometimes on Sundays, when she saw villagers heading in that direction, she felt a pull to join them.

A man was walking along the lane towards her, and Ellen’s eyes narrowed. There was something familiar about him, but with his head down as he trudged along, she was unable to see his face. He drew closer, looking up, and Ellen felt her head spinning. A ghost! She was looking at a ghost, but one that was solid and nothing like the ethereal image she’d imagined.

‘Ellen, is that you?’

It wasn’t a ghost, it was real, and she screamed with joy. ‘Dad! Oh, Dad! They…they told us that you were dead.’

‘They told you wrong. As you can see, I’m alive and kicking.’

Ellen flung herself into his arms. Her dad! He wasn’t dead – he was here!

‘Let’s go and see your mum,’ he said, gently pulling away to take her hand. ‘I would have been here yesterday, but I had a right job finding you.
I knocked and knocked on the door of that downstairs flat and then asked around, but nobody had a clue where you were. Somebody told me that Mabel’s son worked at a local factory and still lived upstairs, so I hung around until he came home from work. Thankfully he had your address, but I’ve been stuck at a station all night and have only just managed to get here.’

‘Oh, I can’t wait to see Mum’s face.’

‘Nor me. In fact, all I’ve dreamed about is seeing both your faces again.’

Soon they were at the cottage, and Ellen quietly opened the door, urging her dad ahead of her. For a moment there was just a frozen tableau, the colour draining from her mother’s face, but then, like a wax dummy coming to life, she jumped to her feet.

‘Doug! Oh, Doug!’

‘Hello, darling.’

The next minute Ellen saw her mother in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably, her words barely coherent. ‘They…they told me you…you went down with your ship.’

‘I know, love. It’s a long story, but I’m here now.’

Ellen saw that Mabel had tears in her eyes too, both of them smiling as they watched the scene. It’s like a miracle, Ellen thought, but then was struck by another. ‘Mabel, that woman was right.’

‘What woman?’

‘Don’t you remember? It was when we were sheltering in the underground. She told Mum about a vision, that she’d seen Dad on a raft and he was coming home.’

Though still clinging to him like a limpet, Hilda turned her head, eyes alight with happiness. ‘Yes, she was right, and I’ll never pooh-pooh people like her again.’

It was some time before they settled, and Hilda couldn’t take her eyes off Doug. She still couldn’t believe it, still felt she was dreaming as she handed him a cup of tea.

‘Doug, what happened to you? Why didn’t you write to tell me that you survived?’

‘As I said, it’s a long story.’

‘I’d still like to hear it.’

‘All right, but to make sense of it I’ll have to start at the beginning. It’s true that my ship went down. It was struck by a torpedo when we were in the South Atlantic and when a second one hit we began to list to starboard. It was pandemonium: fires, explosions, the fight to lower boats. By then we were listing so badly that it was impossible and, with no other choice, we began to scramble over the sides. My one thought as I plunged into the sea among debris and oil was to get as far away from the ship as possible.’

‘Oh, Doug,’ Hilda gasped.

‘I ain’t much of a swimmer and thought I was a goner, but thankfully I managed to grab hold of a piece of debris that was floating past. I don’t know what it was, but it was wooden and floating so I scrambled onto it and paddled like mad.’

‘That woman said you were on a raft,’ Mabel said.

‘What?’

‘Sorry, Doug, I shouldn’t have interrupted you.’

‘That’s all right. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, I was paddling like mad to get away. After a while my arms were screaming with pain and I had to stop, looking back to see a scene that was like something out of Dante’s hell. There were men in the water, some surrounded by ignited fuel, screaming, shouting, and others still on board, clinging on for dear life as the ship went down, bow first.’

‘It must have been awful,’ Hilda murmured.

‘It was, but it got worse. I was about to paddle back to see if I could pick anyone up when the U-boat surfaced.’

For a moment Doug closed his eyes, his mouth tight with anger when he spoke again. ‘The bastards opened fire, gunning down the men in the water, and me, well, I got one in the back and another in the head.’

‘Oh, no!’ Hilda exclaimed.

‘Yeah, well, as you can see, neither killed me.

I don’t know how many days I drifted, or in which direction as I floated in and out of consciousness. When I was picked up by an American ship, it seems I was in a bad way, but I don’t remember it, only really coming to when I was taken to a navy hospital in Trinidad.’

‘But if you were rescued, why wasn’t I told?’

‘Nobody recognised me at the hospital. My uniform was in tatters and I didn’t have any form of identification on me.’

‘But you must have told them who you are.’

‘That’s just it, I couldn’t. The bullet I took in the head must have done something to my memory. It wasn’t a bad wound, yet I couldn’t remember a thing. I was taken to the operating theatre to remove the bullet from my back and it took a long time to recover from that.’

‘Are you all right now?’ Hilda asked worriedly.

‘My back is never going to be perfect again, and I’m not fit for action.’

‘Dad, does this mean you’re home for good?’ Ellen asked excitedly.

‘It depends on the medical board – but probably.’

Hilda could have danced with joy, but she managed to remain seated. There would be so much to sort out, not least her war widow’s pension, and she had no idea what would change financially for them. Would Doug still receive army
pay? She pushed all this to one side for now as Doug spoke again.

‘Anyway, to cut this long story short, thanks to the care I got, my memory slowly came back. I didn’t want to remember the ship going down – the crew in the water, the gunning, the slaughter – and the chap who was helping me said that the trauma might have been the root cause of my memory loss. Once I was able to recall it, the rest followed, and, well, here I am.’

Hilda couldn’t hold herself back. She wanted to be in Doug’s arms again, to feel him, and moved to sit on his lap. ‘I still can’t believe you’re really here.’

‘Well, I am, and ain’t it about time someone fed me? Three women here and not one of you has offered to cook me something to eat.’

‘I’m not a woman, Dad,’ Ellen protested.

‘Well, by the look of you, you’re not far off.’

Despite the horror of Doug’s story, Hilda was smiling as she rose to her feet. Her man was home, he was here to stay, and the part of her she thought had died with him came to life again.