Under the Apple Tree (42 page)

and her mother were left alone.

‘She’s taking this very hard,’ Alice said, shaking her head.

‘Not that you can blame her. That’s three good men we’ve

lost at sea in this family. Three good men! Where’s it going

to end, Poll?’

Polly shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Mum. But I tell you

what - I think we’d better get our Judy back home, don’t

you? It’s the only thing that’ll help Cis through this, having

her back. It’s a shame, because I think it’s doing her good to

be out in the country, but I reckon it’s the best thing to do.’

‘You’re right,’ Alice said. ‘And I wouldn’t be surprised if

she turns up tomorrow without even being sent for. I bet

she’s packing her bags at this very minute.’

Chapter Twenty-One It was not Judy who arrived next day, however. It was

somebody else who turned up, quite unexpectedly, on the

doorstep of number nine.

After all her crying, Cissie had fallen into a deep sleep

and woke late, heavy-eyed and feeling as if she’d been crying

even in her dreams. Dick had slept badly, tossing and

turning as his mind filled again with the horrific memories

of his own war experiences. He was pale and shaky when he

stumbled downstairs to find Polly making tea and Alice

sitting at the table, looking shrunken and grey in an old

dressing-gown.

‘Dick, you look like death warmed up,’ Polly said, and

then closed her eyes. ‘Oh, I’m sorry - I could bite my

tongue off sometimes. Have a cup of tea, and take one up for

Cis. Is she awake yet?’

‘Just stirring.’ He rested against the door to the staircase.

‘Tell you the truth, Poll, I don’t feel too good at all. Don’t

tell Cis, though. She’s got enough to upset her.’

‘Don’t feel too good?’ Polly stopped with the teapot

raised and looked at him closely. ‘What is it? One of your

attacks?’

‘No, it’s not like that. Just sort of tingly, and I’ve got a

sort of ache—’ He stopped as they heard movements from

above, and opened the staircase door to call up: ‘You stop in

bed a bit longer, Cis. I’m just bringing you a cuppa.’ To

Polly, he said, ‘I don’t suppose it’s anything much. Shock,

probably, and I didn’t sleep too well.’

‘I don’t suppose any of us did.’ Polly handed him a cup

and went through to her mother. ‘Here you are, Mum.

Drink that down. It’s hot, if nothing else. We’re nearly out

of tea again. I’ll go up the street in a minute, see if there’s anything in the papers.’

She looked through the cupboards to see what they could

have for breakfast. There was half a packet of cornflakes, the

end of a loaf that was going stale, some dried egg and some

margarine and the pot of jam they’d started yesterday.

Normally they wouldn’t dream of having jam for breakfast,

but this was her mother’s own blackberry and apple, made

last autumn with blackberries from Hilsea Lines, and Cissie

was especially fond of it. It wasn’t that a slice of bread and

jam would make up for losing Terry, Polly thought, that

would be daft, but a little treat at a time like this couldn’t do any harm. She lit the grill to make toast and put some

cornflakes in a bowl. Cissie could have breakfast in bed.

Dick came treading down the stairs again. He looked as

grey as Alice, and was breathing heavily. Polly glanced at

him and wondered if he could after all be heading for an

asthma attack. It wasn’t all that long since his pneumonia,

and shock could bring it on. It looks as if I’m going to have

to look after the lot of them, she thought, glancing from

Dick’s ashen face to her mother’s. While I’m up the street

getting the papers, I’d better ring up and let the office know I won’t be able to go in today.

She went to the telephone box first, searching for pennies

for the call, and then walked along to the newsagent’s. Alice

Brunner’s daughter Joy was there, sorting the papers. Polly

looked at the headlines: sink the bismarck.

She read the report beneath. It was the Bismarck which

had presented such a serious threat to Allied shipping that a

flotilla of ships had set off from Scapa Flow in pursuit of HMS Hood, Prince of Wales, King George V, Victorious and a number of others. It was the Bismarck which, with just one

shell, had sunk the Hood, penetrating the weak armour of its

sides and striking the store of ammunition within to cause

the huge and devastating explosion that had destroyed the ship and killed almost fifteen hundred men. Few, if any,

could have been saved.

Now the hunt was on in earnest for the killer ship. The

order had gone out - she was to be sunk at all costs. And

that meant more men killed, Polly thought, trudging back

down October Street with an armful of newspapers and a

heavy heart. More young men like Terry and Johnny and

Sean. And it wouldn’t bring even one of them back. Not

one.

Nobody had been able to eat much breakfast. Cissie had

come downstairs, saying she couldn’t stop in bed, and after

they’d washed up, feeling as if nothing was really worthwhile

doing but not knowing what else to do, she and Dick

set off to see Jean Foster, who had been Terry’s sweetheart

since they’d been at school. Jean had worked in the

Landport Drapery Bazaar, in Guildhall Square, but since

the bombing the shop had re-opened in several different

places in town, and now she was in Lake Road. Since they

would pass it on the way to her home, they called in there

first to see if she had come to work.

Jean was serving a customer. She looked a little plumper

than when they had last seen her, during Terry’s Christmas

leave, but her clear skin was glowing, her brown hair

springing with natural curls and her pretty face smiling as

she talked to the customer. Cissie and Dick looked at each

other in dismay.

‘She doesn’t know,’ Cissie mouthed. ‘Oh Dick, we’ve got

to tell her ourselves.’ Her lips trembled. ‘I don’t think I

can.’

‘I dunno what else we can do, love.’ Dick half turned

awkwardly, as if to slip out again, but at that moment Jean

glanced up and saw them. She hesitated, looking embarrassed, and then finished giving the customer her change and came over.

‘Mrs Taylor! Mr Taylor - I didn’t expect to see you

here.’ She looked flushed and embarrassed and they gazed at her silently, taken aback by her manner. ‘I don’t know who’s

told you,’ she went on quickly, ‘but I haven’t done anything

wrong. We’d been going steady for a long time, and what

with Christmas and Terry going away, and us never

knowing when we’d see each other again, well…‘she tilted her chin a little defiantly ‘… it just happened, that’s all, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it now, I’ve written to

tell Terry and—’

Dick interrupted her. ‘We don’t know what you’re talking

about, Jean. We just came to see if you’d heard the news. It

was on last night. Haven’t you heard?’

The girl stared at them. She seemed to notice their

swollen eyes for the first time and her colour faded.

Nervously, she said, ‘News? What news? I haven’t heard no

news.’

‘The Hood,’ Cissie said in a dry, aching voice. ‘She’s been

sunk. D’you mean to say you hadn’t heard? It’s all over the

papers.’

Jean turned white. ‘The Hood? Sunk? But - oh, no.’ She

reached out a hand and laid it against the wall, swaying a

little. ‘But - Terry - isn’t he all right? Wasn’t he saved?’

‘We don’t know,’ Dick said quietly. ‘We don’t think he

could have been. The ship went down in four minutes.’

‘Four minutes?’ The ashen white turned to a sickly green

and Dick stepped forwards quickly to catch the girl as she

crumpled. He staggered beneath her weight and the shop

supervisor noticed what was happening and came quickly

across to help. Between them, they got Jean on to the chair

put beside the counter for customers. Cissie pressed her

head down to her knees while Dick steadied her and the

supervisor hurried off for a cup of water.

‘Drink this.’ She held the cup beneath Jean’s lips. ‘Just a

sip or two. It’ll make you feel better.’ They all watched

anxiously as Jean sipped and took a couple of shuddering

breaths. The supervisor looked at Dick and Cissie. ‘Has she had bad news?’

Cissie nodded. ‘We all have.’ Her eyes filled with tears

again. ‘The Hood,’ she said, chokingly. ‘On the news last

night.’

The woman nodded. ‘I heard it. It’s in the papers this

morning. Terrible.’ Her eyes sharpened. ‘You mean,

someone was on it? Someone Jean knew - was fond of?’

‘Our son was one of the crew,’ Dick said hoarsely. ‘And

Jean and him - well, they’ve been going steady ever since

they left school. He was hoping they’d get engaged, the next

time he got leave.’ He looked down at the girl’s bent head.

‘We’d have been pleased. We’re fond of Jean - we’d have

been proud to have her as a daughter-in-law.’

The supervisor’s eyes softened. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s

dreadful. But Jean never said. She’s been just the same as

usual this morning, a bit quiet, but then she has been just

lately. Missing her sweetheart, naturally. I’d no idea.’

‘I don’t think she knew,’ Cissie said. ‘That’s why it was

such a shock to her when we told her just now.’

‘The poor girl. And you as well.’ The woman hesitated,

then glanced down at the bent head. ‘Jean,’ she said kindly,

‘when you feel well enough, I think you’d better go home

for the rest of the day. We can manage without you. Take

the rest of the week off and come back on Monday, when

you’ve had time to get over the shock. I know just how you

must be feeling.’ She said quietly, ‘I lost my brother a few

months ago, so I do understand.’

Jean looked up at last. Her face was like parchment, her

eyes like bruises against the yellowish-green tinge of he

normally rosy cheeks. She looked at them all with a dull,

hopeless stare and said in a flat voice that seemed to have

been drained of all feeling, ‘You don’t understand, Miss

Browning. Nobody does.’ Her eyes went to Dick’s face and

then to Cissie’s. ‘It’s not just Terry, you see. I’m in trouble anyway. Bad trouble.’ She took a deep breath, as if gathering

courage, and then said in a rush, ‘I’m expecting. I’m in the family way. And now Terry’s never coming back, I don’t

know what to do.’ Her voice wavered and cracked, and she

broke into a storm of crying. ‘I just don’t know what I’m

going to do!’

Locked behind her wall of silence, Judy had no idea what

had happened.

She had gone to bed early the night before, just as the

family was sitting down to listen to the nine o’clock news. It

was one of the most frustrating times for her, watching their

faces and wondering what was going on in the world. They

would tell her, of course, Mrs Sutton either mouthing the

words carefully or writing them down on a scrap of paper but

she was sure they didn’t tell her everything they heard.

It was too laborious, too much trouble. She had formed the

habit of going outside to sit under the apple tree, watching

the sky deepen from soft blue to deep purple, streaked and

patterned with glowing crimson as the sun dipped below the

wooded hill. Tomorrow, she would read the newspaper to

find out what had happened; tonight she would sleep in

peace.

On this night, however, it was dull and there was a drizzle

in the air. Judy had been making scrim almost all day and

had come home tired and dirty. While the family were

listening to the wireless, she shut herself in the scullery for a good wash, and then went straight up to bed, calling her

goodnight through the half-open door. She tiptoed into the

room she shared with Sylvie, checked that her niece was

asleep and properly covered, and then slipped into bed.

She had been here for a fortnight now, and it seemed like

home. Although she missed her family, the Suttons had

been so kind that she felt almost as if she had found a second

family, and the cottage and the countryside around were like

a balm to her unhappy soul. It was a balm she had needed

desperately. The loss of first her brother-in-law and then

her fiance had struck at her heart, the bombing of her home had left her feeling lost and disoriented, and her deafness

had been a final cruel blow. Over and over again she told

herself how lucky she was - she still had her parents, her

sister, her little niece and her grandmother, her brother

Terry was serving on one of Britain’s greatest ships, she had

been able to come to this peaceful village and stay with these

kind people - yet she could not rid herself of the deep,

searing loneliness of her silent world. If only I could hear

again, she thought. If only …

It was strange that the one person with whom she felt

completely at ease was Ben Hazelwood, the boy who seemed

so much older than seventeen, who had taken her down to

the river and shown her a kingfisher and told her she would

hear again. She had seen him again several times over the

next few days. He had come to the farm and sat with her