When the Lights Come on Again (43 page)

A certain person is alive and well and being treated well. He sends Elisabetta his love. The old man is also well and not too far away.

‘Oh,’ Cordelia said.

Liz was disappointed by her reaction. ‘Don’t you understand?
Not too far away
. That probably means that Mr Rossi’s on the Isle of Man. My brother managed to find out that’s where some of the Italians are interned. And at least I know now that Mario is being well-treated. Isn’t it exciting?’

Cordelia handed back the precious scrap of paper. ‘Yes, Liz, I can see that it’s exciting for you.’ She turned her head away and stared across the room. ‘I’m glad to hear that Mr Rossi’s all right. Mario too, of course.’ There was a brief silence.

‘Cordelia,’ said Liz. ‘Is there something the matter?’

With ineffable slowness, Cordelia turned her head back to look at Liz. An expression of deep sadness passed over her face.

‘I suppose I’m a bit jealous, Liz. That’s all. You’ve had a second message about Mario. I’ve got no idea what’s happening to the man I love.’

Liz digested this piece of information. Cordelia was using the present tense. Whoever he was, he obviously hadn’t been killed in action. She tried to think who he might be. Not Adam. Cordelia knew exactly where he was and what he was doing. And Liz had stopped believing there was a romance between the two of them a long time ago.

‘Did he... I mean, is he with someone else now? Did you have an argument, break up with each other?’ She wondered if the other girl wanted to talk about it. Would she be better to go away and leave her alone?

There was a long pause. Then Cordelia spoke.

‘He’s German,’ she said.

Thirty-three

They were in Cordelia’s room. She was sitting on the narrow bed while Liz was in a small armchair by the window.

‘I met him at Heidelberg before the war. I was studying German and he was training to be a doctor.’ She gave Liz a sad smile. ‘That’s one reason why I volunteered to be a nurse. Felt it would connect us in some way, I suppose.’

‘And you’ve no idea where he is now?’

Cordelia lifted her shoulders. ‘How could I have?’ She bit her lip. ‘There was one phone call - the weekend war was declared. The night we came back from taking the evacuees down to Ayrshire. You remember how upset I was? That was why I wanted to get home quickly that evening. I knew he’d get in touch with me if he possibly could. That’s what he’s like, kind and thoughtful.’

Tears were sliding down her cheeks. Liz leaned forward, her voice earnest. ‘Cordelia, don’t talk about it if it makes you so unhappy ...’

Cordelia gave a huge sniff and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Like a child. Liz had a sudden memory of young Charlie Thomson.

Yes, she remembered how upset Cordelia had been that day, and how Adam had comforted her. He must have known all along about her German boyfriend. And there had been other occasions when Cordelia had been distressed... it was all very clear now.

‘But I want to talk about it, Liz,’ she was saying. ‘It’s such a relief to be able to tell another girl about him.’ She was right then. Adam did know.

‘What’s his name?’ she asked gently.

‘Hans-Peter,’ said Cordelia, pathetic in her eagerness to talk of her forbidden lover. ‘I-I’ve got a photo of him here.’ The snapshot was in her bedside drawer, well hidden under scarves and stockings. Herself, a year or two younger, a tall and fair young man standing beside her. They were beaming at the photographer, both wearing breeches and jerseys, knapsacks on their backs.

‘You were hiking?’ asked Liz, studying the picture. She couldn’t get very enthusiastic about a German, but he was handsome enough, she supposed.

‘Yes, near the River Neckar,’ agreed Cordelia. ‘That was a lovely day.’ Her voice broke. ‘And now I’ve no idea where he is - or how he is - or what he’s doing.’ Her eyes were naked with longing and the need for comfort. ‘Och, Liz, how do I know that he’s not been hurt’ - she took a quick little breath - ‘or that he’s not helping to kill Jews?’

‘Oh, Cordelia!’ Awkwardness forgotten, Liz crossed to the bed and crouched down in front of her. ‘If you love him, I’m sure that he’s a good person. I’m sure he is.’

She was surprised when she realized that she had meant exactly what she had just said. She patted Cordelia’s knee until the other girl had stopped sobbing.

‘I get so lonely without him,’ said Cordelia, as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘Although Adam’s been a brick all through this. An absolute rock.’

Liz smiled. ‘I used to think you and Adam were an item.’

‘Adam and me!’ Cordelia sounded completely incredulous. ‘You really thought that? Well, that explains ...’ She broke off. ‘Adam and I are like brother and sister - always have been.’

‘He’s great, isn’t he? He’s been such a good friend to me too.’

Cordelia gave her an odd look. ‘And you really thought he and I were ...’ She left the sentence unfinished. ‘I’ve always liked you, Liz,’ she went on, giving a rueful little grimace. I’m sure I’ve offended you sometimes in the past. Please believe me when I say that I’ve never meant to. I hear myself coming up with these dreadful Lady Bracknell-type expostulations, and it’s really my mother talking. But I get nervous, and I think I should say something. Unfortunately it’s usually the wrong thing.’

Liz stared at her. How often in her life had she felt that she’d opened her mouth and put her foot right in it? Lots of times. She came up from the floor and sat down suddenly on the bottom of Cordelia’s bed, one arm curled round the bedpost as though for support. She looked at the other girl.

‘I’ve been hard on you sometimes, haven’t I?’ And, she thought, I’ve said some incredibly tactless things. Things which must have hurt Cordelia a lot. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I apologize.’ She stuck out her hand, but Cordelia leaned forward and gave her a swift hug. Separating, the two girls looked at each other. Then they both laughed.

‘Sorry for the emotional display,’ said Cordelia.

‘What happened to the stiff upper lip?’ queried Liz with a smile.

‘Bugger the stiff upper lip,’ said Cordelia robustly. ‘We’re all people, aren’t we? With feelings and emotions?’

‘Yes,’ said Liz slowly, considering it. ‘Whatever kind of accent we speak with. Whatever kind of background we come from.’

The army did send Edward MacMillan somewhere nice and warm. With several thousand others he had embarked for Egypt in the late autumn to join the forces of General Wavell, commander-in-chief for North Africa. The goal was the preservation of Britain’s access to the Suez Canal. The Italian army was in possession of most of Libya, plus the fortress of Sidi Barrani, well inside the Egyptian border. General Wavell decided that Mussolini’s
new Roman legions
had to be driven back.

Eddie was one of the men deployed on what was known as Operation Compass. Under Major General O’Connor he took part in the recapture of Sidi Barrani and its surrounding forts, and the push into Libya. It all seemed to happen with embarrassing ease. In three days the British took forty thousand Italians prisoner.

Eddie felt sorry for most of them. They looked so utterly dejected. He wondered if any of them were Mario Rossi’s relations.

There were more successes in the new year. The fortress of Bardia fell to the British - and another forty-five thousand prisoners. Then there was a bit of a lull. Eddie took the time to catch up on his correspondence.

He composed a long letter to Helen. There was the little in it about the campaign which he thought would get past the censors, something about the conditions in which the local people lived and a great deal about his feelings for his wife.

My wife
. He was surprised how much pleasure those two little words gave him. He was a lucky man. He found a funny postcard to send to Liz and wrote a cheerful message on it. He knew the two girls would compare notes and that Helen would tell Liz what was in the letter.

Some of it at any rate, he thought with a smile. Not the romantic passages. The soppy bits, as Liz would call them. His writing finished, he went to the doorway of the tent and stood looking out over the desert.

He wondered idly if the baby would be a boy or a girl. He didn’t mind either way - a healthy baby and a happy Helen, that was all he wanted. And surely his parents would come round when they saw their grandchild for the first time. His mother would love to have a baby to fuss over.

He didn’t suppose he could hope to get home in time for the birth. It was good to know that Liz would be there to help Helen when the time came.

Although there were to be many reverses later, particularly after Rommel and his
Afrika Korps
arrived on the scene, the British initially continued to have success in North Africa. On 23 January 1941, British and Australian forces stormed and took the strategically important fortress of Tobruk. The generals considered it a remarkably easy victory. They lost only five hundred men.

As Eddie had surmised, Liz and Helen got together to share the correspondence from him. Spending the afternoon with the Gallaghers, Liz had been teasing Helen over the way she would be reading out from Eddie’s letter then suddenly stop, blushing.

‘Another romantic passage?’ Liz sighed. ‘Dear me.’

They were laughing over Eddie’s postcard when the knock came at the door. Brendan Gallagher got up to answer it.

Some sixth sense made Liz turn her head as he came back into the room. He had something in his hand. He was holding it gingerly, as if it were poisonous.

‘It’s a telegram,’ he said. ‘For Helen.’

He handed it to his daughter. Terror raging in her blue eyes, she gave it to Liz.

She managed two words: ‘Deeply regret...’ Then she broke down. Helen was calmer than she was.

‘We have to tell your mother. We don’t know if she’ll have been informed. Eddie said he was going to put me down as his next-of-kin. Come on, Liz. We’ll go to her now.’

They called at Annie Crawford’s house first, taking her with them to help break the news to Sadie. When Liz’s mother opened the door and saw the three of them standing there, nothing needed to be said. Her daughter and daughter-in-law went into her arms.

Mrs Crawford disappeared briefly to dispatch another neighbour to the yard with a message for William MacMillan, then returned to hover anxiously around the three women. They were still standing locked together when he came into the house ten minutes later.

‘Get those two out of here.’

‘William,’ pleaded his wife. ‘This lassie’s carrying Eddie’s baby - our grandchild.’

There was no emotion in his eyes. Liz thought they looked dead. Like broken glass on a beach, washed opaque by the waves.

‘Father,’ she said. ‘Please.’ As she had done as a child being taken to hospital, she turned and stretched her arms out to him. He looked through her. As though she weren’t there.

‘William,’ said Sadie again.

‘I’ll have no Catholic bastard under my roof.’

Helen drew herself out of her mother-in-law’s embrace and faced him unflinchingly.

‘My child is no bastard, Mr MacMillan. Eddie and I are married.’ She corrected herself. ‘I mean, Eddie and I
were
married.’ Her face crumpled, the full horror of it hitting her with the use of that one little word. She turned to her friend. ‘Och,Liz!’

William MacMillan ignored her. It was as if she hadn’t spoken. Liz took Helen’s arm.

‘Come on, Helen,’ she said. ‘Let’s go. You don’t belong here.’ She looked at her father. ‘And neither do I. I’ll not set foot in this house again. Sorry, Ma.’

Thirty-four