One Step at a Time (33 page)

Mrs Porter marshalled her army of ladies into
action. ‘Get the tea urns boiling if there’s any gas in the kitchens. They’ll all need sweet, hot tea.’

Fortunately the gas was still on, as this school was far enough away from the bombing not to have had all the services turned off.

By the time dawn came up and they were relieved by a fresh group of workers, Amy was exhausted and ready to go home, and it didn’t look as if Mrs Dalton would even be able to stand up for much longer. Amy drove them home in the van, dropping the ladies off at their various addresses.

John didn’t arrive home until mid-afternoon and, after having something to eat, he sprawled on the bed and slept. Amy didn’t disturb him, seeing that he needed rest before returning to the hospital. After last night’s raid she knew that all the medical staff would be rushed off their feet caring for the injured. She couldn’t help wondering, rather wistfully, what it would be like to live a normal life again. And have a normal married life with the man she loved. But that wasn’t possible at the moment and was something that had to be accepted.

Ted and Mrs Dalton were out once again trying to help those who had lost homes and family, but for Amy, John came first. If the raids continued – and there was every reason to suppose they would – he was going to be much needed, and she would do all she could to help him.

‘Hello, darling.’ He came into the kitchen, unshaven
but looking less exhausted, and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. ‘Any tea in the pot?’

‘No, but I’ll soon make some.’ She held on tight for a moment, then turned away to put the kettle on to boil.

After drinking two cups, he sat back. ‘Quite a night, wasn’t it? They couldn’t wipe out our air force, so now they’re going to try and bomb us into submission.’

‘It could get very bad, couldn’t it?’ There was a question in her voice.

‘Yes, and I want you to go and stay with my parents, darling.’

She shook her head vigorously. ‘Not unless you come too.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘I know you can’t, and I won’t leave you, John. I must be near you, and we’ll face the danger together.’

His sigh was resigned. ‘Promise me you’ll stay in the shelter during the raids.’

‘I promise, but as soon as they’re over I’ll be out there helping in any way I can.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘You be careful.’

‘I will, and you must be as well.’

That became the pattern of their lives. No one got much sleep as the bombers came over night after night. They got so used to it that they managed easily on a couple of hours’ rest snatched when they could.
People emerged from shelters or the underground stations and made their way to work as normal, picking their way through the rubble of the night’s destruction. You could almost set your clocks by the arrival of the planes, and if they didn’t turn up on time, Londoners said to each other in a matter-of-fact way: ‘They’re late tonight.’

Amy visited Ben and Howard’s parents regularly, just to make sure they were all right. She helped with the WVS and tried always to be around when John was, to see that he rested and had proper meals.

When Christmas arrived, she was overjoyed to learn that John had three days off, and they all had an invitation to stay with his parents. So with Mrs Dalton and Ted, they set off on Christmas Eve in high spirits. It was a welcome respite from the constant tension of the Blitz.

During the blissfully peaceful nights, John and Amy made love, knowing they weren’t going to be disturbed by the wailing of the sirens and the whistle of bombs hurtling down. Ted and Mrs Dalton thoroughly enjoyed themselves, and Mr and Mrs Sterling were happy to have lively company.

When they arrived back home, Howard was waiting for them.

‘Howard!’ Amy threw her arms around him; relieved he was looking so much better than the last time she had seen him in Ben’s studio. ‘Are you staying?’

He swung her round, laughing at her exuberant
greeting. ‘I’ve got seven days’ leave, so I’m spending four days here and the rest with my parents and Chrissie.’

‘Who’s Chrissie?’ they all asked at the same time.

‘You remember the nurse who looked after me at Dover? Well, that’s Chrissie, and we’ve been seeing each other whenever we could.’

Amy beamed at that piece of news. ‘Is it serious? And why didn’t you bring her here?’

‘She won’t be on leave for another four days. And to answer your question, we like each other, but until this blasted war’s over, that’s all it’s going to be. Then we’ll see.’

Amy gave a yelp of delight and launched herself at him again. This was just what he needed to help him recover from Dunkirk. ‘That’s wonderful!’

‘Will you put my wife down?’ John watched the scene with amusement as Howard lifted her off the ground and handed her back to him.

‘Sorry about that, but she keeps throwing herself at me.’

They were all talking and laughing as Mrs Dalton made a large pot of tea, and then they sat round the table to catch up with all the news. No one mentioned the war; it was just so good to have at least one of the boys home for a while. The other one was still sorely missed.

‘What are you going to do while you’re here?’ Ted asked.

‘Sleep mostly, then I thought I’d throw a few pots,
just to keep my hand in.’ Howard looked round at the smiling faces. ‘Then I’d like us to have one hell of a New Year’s Eve party. I’ve promised to go to my parents the next day, but I’d like to celebrate here, and include Ben, even though we don’t know where he is.’

‘Excellent idea.’ Mrs Dalton patted his hand. ‘This house is full of his presence, and it’s right we should think of him at the start of a new year.’

Amy agreed. No more information had been received about Ben’s whereabouts, and she was more than ever convinced that he was still alive, no matter what anyone else said. ‘And pray that he’ll be back for the next one.’

Ted lifted his cup in salute. ‘Wherever you are, Benjamin Scott, your place at this table will be waiting for you.’

‘Hear, hear.’ Mrs Dalton smiled at Howard. ‘I don’t know where you’ve been lately, but it’s lively here now, so be prepared to spend your nights in the shelter.’

It had been wonderful to have Howard home for a few days and to welcome in 1941 together. The time had gone far too quickly, but Amy sang to herself as she prepared breakfast. There was a feeling of snow in the air, and the people huddled in shelters or underground stations would have had a cold night. Only the firemen would have been warm as they’d fought the fierce fires.

Frowning at the clock, she turned out the gas under the kettle. John was late this morning. It was nearly ten o’clock and he usually arrived home around nine after a night at the hospital. Ted was still out as well, and Mrs Dalton was having a well-earned rest after being up half the night with the WVS, so she wouldn’t disturb her.

Oscar rubbed around her legs. At least the cat wanted some breakfast, so she saw to him and then stood staring out of the window at the bleak January morning. How she wished this war was over, but no one believed it was going to end for a long time yet. Her singing stopped as she began to fret. Where was he?

At eleven o’clock there was a knock on the front door, and she hurried to open it, smiling. John must have forgotten his key.

But her smile faded when she saw a colleague of John, Dr Hayward, standing there in a dishevelled state.

‘David, you look exhausted.’ She stepped aside. ‘Please come in. I’m afraid John isn’t home yet.’

He followed her into the kitchen, not saying a word, and when she turned and looked at his face, it felt as if she had just walked into an icy river.

‘What’s happened?’ The words came out in a whisper as cold dread gripped her.

‘Sit down, Amy.’ He helped her, holding her hand tightly. ‘I’ve got some bad news…’

‘John!’ There was only one reason David would
be here like this, and she surged to her feet. ‘Has he been hurt?’

He took a deep breath. ‘I’m so sorry, Amy, but there’s no easy way to tell you this. John was killed last night.’

‘Nooo…’ Her anguished cry echoed throughout the house and had Mrs Dalton stumbling into the kitchen, struggling to put on her dressing gown. ‘No!
No
.’

‘What’s going on?’ Mrs Dalton demanded.

David, cradling Amy in his arms, lifted tortured eyes. ‘John’s been killed.’

‘Oh, dear God!’ Mrs Dalton’s legs gave way just as she managed to grab a chair and sit beside Amy. ‘Come here, sweetheart.’ When Amy turned to her she enveloped her in her arms.

‘It isn’t true. It can’t be,’ Amy moaned. ‘Not my John.’ The cries of distress racked her body.

‘How did it happen?’ Mrs Dalton spoke quietly to David, who was looking totally helpless in the face of such overwhelming grief.

‘John went in an ambulance to help at a bomb site, and when they were getting the injured on to stretchers a gas main blew…’ He dipped his head and shook it in disbelief. ‘They were all killed. I was no more than twenty yards away and wasn’t even scratched.’

Suddenly Amy sat up. ‘Where is he? I want to see him.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea—’ David’s protest stopped when he saw her expression.

‘Where is he?’ She struggled to her feet and spoke through clenched teeth. ‘
Where is he?
’

‘He’s in the hospital mortuary.’

‘Wait!’ Mrs Dalton caught hold of Amy’s arm as she made to move. ‘Let me get dressed and I’ll come with you.’

Amy sat down again.

Within ten minutes they were in David’s car. None of them spoke, but Mrs Dalton sat in the back with Amy, holding her trembling hands.

Once at the hospital, Amy was oblivious to her surroundings, holding on tightly to David and Mrs Dalton for support. It didn’t feel as if her legs belonged to her, and every step was torture, but she had to do this. She would never be able to believe it if she didn’t see him for herself. It couldn’t be John. They must have made a mistake…

They stopped outside a door and David left her for a moment. The sound of raised voices could be heard through the door, and then he returned.

‘Sit down, Amy.’ David was beside her again. ‘You’ll be able to see him in a few minutes, but…’ He stooped down in front of her. ‘He was badly injured. Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘Yes.’ Her eyes were wide with pain. ‘I
must
see him.’

A man opened the door. ‘All right, you can come in now. You’ve explained, doctor?’

‘She knows.’

Amy was led into a large room crowded with
trolleys covered with sheets, so many dead. It wasn’t going to be him. It wasn’t!

The man stopped at one trolley and turned down the sheet to expose the face, and she could deny it no longer. John’s face was cut and bloodied, but there was no doubt it was him. No matter how injured, she would know that precious face. With a deep moan of utter despair she reached out to touch, but the man pulled up the sheet quickly.

‘Come on, my dear.’ Mrs Dalton was shaking. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

But Amy couldn’t move; all she could do was stare at the trolley as her mind tried to grasp that this was the last time she was ever going to see him; never again would she sleep in his arms after making love. He had been so vibrant, so alive, so loved… and now he was gone.

She was swept off her feet and carried out.

‘His parents,’ she managed to gasp.

‘They are being told now.’ David sat her on a chair in the corridor and barked out an order to a passing nurse. ‘Get us some hot, sweet tea.’

It appeared very quickly but Mrs Dalton had to hold the cup to her lips as she was incapable of doing anything, or thinking, or knowing where she was.

The next thing she was aware of was being tucked up in her own bed at home.

‘Try to sleep.’ Mrs Dalton kissed her cheek, and allowed Oscar to slink on to the end of the bed before she left the room.

Alone at last the dam broke and she sobbed her heart out, grabbing John’s pillow to her. What was she going to do without him? It was too cruel to lose both the men she loved.

‘Oh, darling John,’ she cried out. ‘I loved you so much. How do I live without you?’

30

The wind was cold enough to cut a man in half, but Ben shoved his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders, and stared before him. There was a strip of wire at his feet, then a gap of about three yards, and then a tall fence; beyond that was open country for some twenty yards, leading to a wooded area. His thoughts soared over the trees, across the sea and back to Chelsea. The pain was almost physical as he remembered his studio. How he missed the smell of paint, and seeing Howard covered in dust as he chipped away at a piece of stone.

His head bowed in worry. Did his parents believe he was dead, and had Howard made it back? If so, what was he doing now? Was he still alive? And what about Amy, John, Ted and Mrs Dalton? The POWs knew that London was being bombed because they had a small radio hidden in the roof of one of the huts, and the guards took great delight in passing on such news. Was Amy still in London, or had John made her leave for somewhere less dangerous? He hoped all those he loved were safe.

At Dunkirk they had managed to hold out until most of the troops were off the beaches, then they had been overrun and taken prisoner. He was now
somewhere in Germany, but he wasn’t quite sure where.

There were so many questions running through his head today. Questions he had no hope of finding answers to.

‘Major wants to see you.’ Another one of the prisoners stood beside him and looked up. ‘Bloody freezing out here.’

‘Won’t be for long, Shorty. In another few weeks spring will be here. Wonder if there are bluebells under those trees?’

The man gave him a pitying glance. ‘Couldn’t give a toss, mate. All I know is that beyond those trees is freedom.’

Ben snorted. ‘There’s a lot of ground and water to cross before you would find that.’ They all dreamt of escaping, and there were always schemes being planned, but nothing had come of it so far. But it gave everyone something to think about, and a feeling that they were doing something. ‘What’s the Major want with me?’