Under the Apple Tree (30 page)

‘Yes, I wrote the day before yesterday and she’s answered

straight away.’ Polly forgot to speak slowly. ‘Isn’t that kind

of her? You’ll like her, Judy, and Sylvie will be so pleased to have her auntie there. And it’ll be lovely there now, all the

spring flowers will be out and there’ll be lambs and—’

‘You wrote to her,’ Judy said, ignoring her. ‘You wrote

and told her about me.’

‘Well - yes.’ Polly began to feel uncomfortable. Judy

didn’t seem pleased at all. ‘I was worried about you, Judy.

We all are. We think you need a few days away, out in the

country where you can—’ She recalled that Judy could

barely follow one word in three of this. ‘We want you to

have a holiday,’ she enunciated. ‘Some peace and quiet. To

help you get better.’

She stopped uncertainly. Judy seemed to understand, but

she didn’t look any more pleased. She stared from Polly to

her mother, then back at the letter in her hand. ‘Why didn’t

you ask me?’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were

writing?’

Polly glanced helplessly at her sister and Cissie said, ‘We

only wanted to do what was best for you, love.’

‘But why didn’t you ask me? I’ve been here all the time.

I’ve still got a brain, you know - I can still decide what I

want to do! What if I don’t want to go? What if I’d rather

stay here?’ Her voice trembled. ‘I want to go back to work. I

want to be useful. I don’t want to be sent away to the country

like a - like a little child. And don’t you understand? Don’t any of you understand what it’ll be like for me? Not being able to hear what people say? Being with strangers, and not

being able to hear what they say?’

Cissie and Polly looked at each other. Polly put her

teacup back on the table and spoke again, very slowly,

looking directly into Judy’s eyes.

‘Judy. Nobody is treating you like a child. We want to

help you get better. You need to be away from Portsmouth

- away from the bombs. Away from noise. Please go. Just

for a few days. That’s all we want you to do. Please. And the

Suttons will understand - I know they will. They’re kind

people, Judy.’

There was a long silence. Judy looked down at the letter

again. Her face was pale. Then she said, ‘Just for a few

days?’

‘Yes. That’s all, really. Just to see if it helps.’

‘And I’d see Sylvie. It seems so long since I saw Sylvie.’

‘She’d love to see you,’ Polly said quietly, thinking how

long it was since she herself had seen her daughter. Not

since that brief hour when she’d taken Stella and Muriel to

Bridge End. When the children had first been evacuated, all

the parents had expected to be able to visit them regularly you could even get the fare paid for two or three visits - but

once the raids had started there just hadn’t been the chance.

Railways stations were full of posters - Is Your Journey

Really Necessary? — and there was so much to do at home.

‘I’d feel happier about her if I knew you’d had a chance to

spend a few days there,’ she said to Judy.

Judy seemed to understand the gist of what she was

saying. She nodded and her mouth twisted into a wry smile.

‘Well, I suppose I’d better go, then. But only for a few

days,’ she added warningly. ‘I’m not being sent away for

ever.’

‘Of course not!’ Cissie threw her arms around her and

kissed her. ‘Oh Judy, I’m so glad! It’ll do you good, I know

it will. And they have much better food out in the country

too - lots Of milk, and butter and proper eggs. You need a

bit of building up. You’ve been looking so peaky and

washed-out lately. Now, we’d better sort out what you’re

going to take with you. There’s that blue skirt you got from

the Clothing Store after we were bombed, and you can take

my best blouse, and—’

‘Wait a minute!’ Judy cried, only half understanding what

her mother was saying. ‘Can’t you wait to get rid of me? I

didn’t say I’d go this minute.’

‘No, but there’s no point in waiting, is there? Mrs Sutton

says she’s expecting you any day. And we’re just having a

spell of nice weather too, so you may as well make the most

of it.’ Cissie was not to be deflected. She ran upstairs and

began pulling open cupboards and drawers. Judy glanced at

Polly and smiled ruefully.

‘You’re determined to make me go, aren’t you? But what

about Dad? He’s the one who’s been ill - he could do with a

few days in the country. Where is he, anyway?’

‘He’s gone for a walk,’ Polly said. ‘You might not have

noticed it, but he’s really improving with this nice sunny

spell. He’s gone over to Langstone Harbour - said he just

wants to rest his eyes on some water. It’s months since he

was on the shore.’ She saw Judy’s face and repeated the

main words more slowly, until Judy understood. Then she

said, ‘You won’t feel too awkward, will you, Judy, when

you’re at the Suttons’? They know about what’s happened.

And your hearing is getting better, isn’t it? You can hear

some things now.’

Judy shrugged. ‘No, not really. I’m just getting a bit

better at lip-reading.’

‘Well, I still think this is what you need.’ Polly looked

into her cup and then stood up. ‘This tea’s gone cold. I’ll

make some more, and then help Cissie with supper.’ She

bent and gave Judy an awkward kiss. ‘I’m glad you’re going.

It’ll do you so much good.’

Judy shrugged. ‘Perhaps. But it’s not going to bring Sean

back, is it?’ She looked at her aunt. ‘I may get my hearing

back, but I’ll never have my sweetheart again.’

Chapter Fifteen The whole family walked down to the tiny station next

morning to wave Judy off. With a small suitcase from the

store, her gas mask in its cardboard box, and two brown

paper carrier bags, she looked like a waif as she climbed

aboard the train, and there were tears in all the women’s

eyes. Even” Dick cleared his throat rather often, and hugged

his daughter tightly before letting her go.

‘It’s only for a week or so,’ she said, leaning out of the

window. ‘You don’t have to look as if you’re never going to

see me again.’

‘Don’t talk like that,’ Cissie begged her, but what with

her deafness and the noise the engine was making, there was

no chance of Judy’s hearing her. However, she had learned

to lip-read surprisingly well and grinned impudently at her

mother.

‘I might not want to come back. I might decide to stay.’

‘Don’t you dare! Not but what it wouldn’t be good to

know you were safe.’ The whistle of the engine drowned her

words and the train began to pull away. Suddenly crying in

earnest, Cissie waved frantically and turned to her husband

to bury her face against his shoulder. ‘Oh Dick, she’s gone!

Oh, I hope she’ll be all right, going all by herself. I hope

we’ve done the right thing.’

‘Of course we’ve done the right thing — and she’s only

going to Ashwood. It’s not the other end of the world.

You’re going on as if she was off to the Front.’

‘I know.’ She sniffed and laughed a little. ‘I’m being silly.

It’s just that so much has happened, and you never know

what’s going to happen next, and just saying goodbye, even

for only a week, makes you think about all the people who

go away and never come back, or perhaps there’s no home to

come back to. Oh, I know I’m being silly, I’m talking a lot of

nonsense.’

‘It’s all right, love,’ Dick said quietly. ‘You’re not talking

nonsense. We’ve been through some terrible times, you’re

bound to worry. And I know you worry about our Terry

too, same as I do. We don’t know where he is half the time,

and all we can do is hope we don’t hear it’s his ship that’s

got sunk. It’s worry we never thought we’d have, and more

than anyone should have to put up with. And I’m not a lot

of help to you,’ he added ruefully.

‘You mustn’t say that.’ They had begun to walk away

from the station. ‘You don’t know how empty the house

seemed while you were in hospital. I feel like I’m just half a

person when you’re not there.’ Cissie stopped and looked

into his eyes. ‘You’re only ill because of what happened to

you in the Great War. That was cruel, and you’ve been

suffering ever since. It’s not your fault.’ She took hold of

both his hands. ‘Shall I tell you what I think? You’re still serving your country. Every time you wheeze or cough, you’re serving your country, because you wouldn’t be like it

if you hadn’t gone to serve it then. And I thank God on my

knees every day - every day — that you came home. So don’t

ever say you’re no use. Ever.’

‘And so say all of us,’ Alice said fervently, and Polly

agreed.

‘We’ll go home and have a cup of tea,’ she said, ‘and then

I’ll be off down to the Centre.’ She lifted her face to the

May sunshine. ‘Do you realise, we’ve had five nights now

without a raid? Five nights of peace in our own beds. I can’t

believe it.’

‘Nor can I,’ Dick said, ‘but it won’t last. Mark my words,

the Germans haven’t finished with us yet.’ He, too, looked

at the blue, innocent sky with its drifting fleet of silver

barrage balloons. ‘They’ll be back. Sure as God made little chickens, they’ll be back.’

Judy sat on the train, feeling a little sick. She had refused

both her mother’s and her aunt’s offers to come with her,

insisting that she could manage - ‘I’ve only got to get off the train and walk down the lane to the farm’ - but inside she

felt apprehensive. Suppose the train broke down, or went

the wrong way, or she didn’t recognise the station when

they arrived there? All the signs had been taken down, and

she had only Polly’s description to go by, and the stations all looked more or less the same. Because she wouldn’t be able

to hear any announcements, they’d taken the precaution of

asking the guard to make sure she got off there, but suppose

he forgot? And suppose someone got into the compartment

and tried to talk to her? Suppose she got lost and had to ask

for directions? Tears came into her eyes as she reflected that

even a simple thing like a train journey seemed almost

impossible when you were deaf.

Angrily, she brushed the tears away. She had seen enough

injuries, and enough death too, during the air raids and in

hospital, to know that she had escaped quite lightly in

comparison with others. Awake night after night, she’d told

herself over and over again that losing her hearing was

nothing - nothing — and if it really did get better, as the

doctors thought it would, then she had no reason to

complain. No reason at all to be sorry for herself. No reason

for this incessant weeping that kept overtaking her. No

reason to get so angry with her mother and aunt just because

they tried to help. No reason to feel so useless.

Yet everything seemed to be so difficult. The simplest

tasks - going shopping, answering the door - seemed

suddenly to be almost impossible. Making herself understood

was easier, although she suspected her voice was

coming out oddly, either too quiet or too loud, but trying to

make out what others were saying drove her into a frenzy of

frustration. I’ll have to learn sign language, she thought, but that was only any use if everyone else learned it too. And she

felt left out of conversations. You couldn’t expect people to

say everything slowly; you just had to sit by, knowing they

were talking and laughing but with no idea what the subject

or the joke was. It was even worse when they listened to the

wireless and you could see them looking dismayed by the

news or laughing at ITMA or Arthur Askey. It was like

living in a glass cage.

There I go again, she thought impatiently, feeling sorry

for myself. I’ve just got to grow up and get on with it. There

are worse things than being deaf. Being blind, for instance.

Not being able to see this lovely countryside, the cows and

sheep and the lambs, skipping about in the grass. The trees

all coming into fresh green leaf. The blossom on the wild

cherries and the apple trees that had grown beside the track,

from cores people had thrown out years ago.

But other people were different when you were blind.

They were helpful, considerate. They still treated you as a

human being, they took your arm and guided you along,

they talked to you.

If you were deaf, they treated you as though you were

stupid. They talked to you for a few minutes, making big

shapes with their mouths, and then they left you out. After a

while, it was as if you weren’t there at all. As if you were

invisible.

The train trundled through the countryside, stopping at

every small station and halt and sometimes in between for

unexplained rests. The actual distance to the village where

Sylvie lived wasn’t very great, but the journey took almost

two hours and at every stop someone got on or off. There

were servicemen and women, Land Girls, civilians in

shabby coats or smart suits, workmen carrying bags of tools,