Far From Home (26 page)

‘That’s nonsense,’ snapped Polly, rising from the chair. ‘I’m going to telephone the Children’s Overseas Headquarters. They’ll tell me it was all a mistake, and that Alice and Mum and Megan and the boys weren’t even on the
City of Benares
– and that they’re in Canada, safe and well. You’ll see.’

‘The office is closed, Polly,’ said Kate Jackson, gripping her by the arm, ‘and even if it wasn’t, they don’t have the authority to tell you anything over the telephone.’

‘But I’m Alice’s mother,’ she snapped, the calm unravelling into ragged tatters. ‘I have a right to know who told you to come and tell me this wicked pack of lies.’

‘Please calm down, Mrs Brown,’ begged Agatha Friar. ‘This really isn’t doing you any good.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ retorted Polly.

She shrugged off Kate Jackson’s restraining hand and ran into the hall. ‘Someone’s got to know the truth,’ she muttered as she reached for the receiver and tried desperately to think who she could telephone. ‘They’re in Canada. I’ll get a postcard or a letter tomorrow, you’ll see. The bombings have delayed the post, that’s all. There’s been a mix-up.’

Polly stared at the receiver in her hand, incapable of coherent thought as the operator asked what number she wanted.

She was barely aware of Danuta gently replacing the receiver, and continued to stare stupidly at the telephone. ‘They’re in Canada,’ she muttered. ‘They are, they really are.’

‘Come, Polly. Come into the warm,’ murmured Danuta.

Polly looked at the other girl and could see only her eyes – dark green eyes, sorrowful eyes bright with unshed tears. She began to tremble as drip by icy drip the truth seared through her numbed mind and into her heart.

She searched that wan little face for some sign that she was mistaken – that this was some terrible nightmare from which she would awaken at any minute. But Danuta’s expression was stark with the truth of it, and Polly finally had to accept the unbearable burden of that terrible knowledge. It weighed down on her, filling her with a darkness so profound it was overwhelming.

‘No,’ she screamed. ‘No, no, no.’ Black clouds enfolded and filled her, sweeping her into a void of welcoming oblivion.

Danuta gasped as Polly crumpled, but Ron managed to catch her before she hit the hard tiles on the hall floor. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her into the kitchen and set her gently down in the fireside chair.

‘I heard someone scream. Whatever’s happened?’ Cissy raced into the kitchen, wide-eyed, and came
to
a skidding halt when she realised there were two strangers there.

Peggy quickly explained as Danuta fetched a glass of water.

Cissy sank into a kitchen chair. ‘Oh, my God,’ she breathed. ‘How awful.’

Peggy was too busy trying to bring Polly round to answer her. ‘Come on, Polly. Wake up, there’s a good girl. That’s it, now drink this,’ she said softly as the girl’s eyes fluttered open.

There was an instant of confusion in Polly’s eyes before her gaze settled on the two women. And then memory returned. She pushed the glass of water away and tried to stand, but her eyes rolled back and she fainted again.

‘I think you’d better leave this to us,’ said Peggy to the two women from the Welfare Office. ‘Please see yourselves out, and I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’

They left swiftly and silently, almost unnoticed.

‘She needs to go to bed,’ said Danuta. ‘I will look after her.’

Ron cleared his throat, his eyes suspiciously bright as he looked down at Polly. ‘Poor wee lass,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll take her up.’ He lifted her gently into his arms as if she was a child, settling her so her head rested against his shoulder before he carried her into the hall.

Danuta had seen one of the women put a slip of paper on the table before she left, and, curious, she picked it up. It was a telegram delivered to the Welfare Office that evening from the Children’s Overseas Evacuation Board, confirming the tragedy in stark, black, emotionless words. She scanned it quickly then folded it repeatedly until it was a tiny square. If she made it small enough, perhaps she could harness its harm.

She became aware of Cissy’s wide-eyed puzzlement and shrugged as she stuffed the tiny square of paper into her trouser pocket. ‘She doesn’t need to see this – not tonight,’ she said by way of explanation and, having picked up the glass of water, she followed Peggy and Ron as they slowly climbed the stairs to the bedroom.

Ron laid her gently on the bed, clearly affected by her plight but unsure of what to do for the best.

‘Thank you, Ron. Peggy and I will see to her now,’ said Danuta, catching sight of Cissy who had followed them up. ‘It’s all right, Cissy,’ she murmured. ‘Why don’t you make a fresh pot of tea? I’m sure your mother would appreciate it.’

She waited until Ron had closed the door behind both of them before she turned to Peggy. ‘Let’s get her more comfortable before she comes round again,’ she murmured.

They gently stripped her to her underwear and bundled her in a blanket before Danuta tried to rouse her. ‘Wake up, Polly,’ she said firmly. ‘Come on. I know you don’t want to, but you have to wake up.’

Polly opened her eyes, stared at Danuta and Peggy in confusion for an instant before the awful truth dawned again. Tears filled her eyes and trembled on her lashes before spilling down her face. ‘I shouldn’t have sent her away,’ she whispered. ‘I knew it was dangerous, but I let them persuade me. I thought it was for the best – thought I was doing the right thing.’

She turned her back on Danuta and Peggy as she curled like a small child against the pillows and released her anguish in great wailing sobs.

Danuta could see that Peggy was feeling as helpless as she. ‘There’s nothing either of us can do,’ she reassured her. ‘This is a battle only Polly can fight. All that is left for us is to comfort her – and even that will take time, for it will barely touch the terrible pain she’s in at the moment.’

‘I know,’ sighed Peggy, wringing her hands. ‘And I feel so useless.’

‘I have something that will help her to sleep,’ Danuta murmured, getting off the bed. She reached into the canvas bag she’d brought all the way across Europe, and found the small phial that had proved such a godsend during those dark days. Adding two drops to the glass of water, she set it aside until Polly was more able to actually drink it. ‘I will stay with her, Peggy,’ she said softly. ‘You go to bed.’

Peggy continued to look down at the sobbing Polly. ‘How can I sleep, knowing that her heart is breaking? How can any of us rest with those terrible images going round and round in our heads?’

Danuta scrubbed her face with her hands. ‘There is no real answer to that,’ she said wearily. ‘But you have been through enough tonight, Peggy. Go to bed and try to sleep. Tomorrow could be a very long day.’

‘Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?’

Danuta nodded as she sat on the side of Polly’s bed.

‘All right,’ Peggy murmured. ‘But I won’t go to bed. I’ll wait downstairs for the others to come in. They’ll need to be told.’ After a long, lingering look at Polly, she squeezed Danuta’s shoulder in gratitude and quietly left the room.

Danuta waited until the door closed behind Peggy and then stripped off her sweater and the baggy trousers which were still damp and muddy at the hem from her walk over the hills. With the faded dressing gown wrapped over her underwear to disguise her pregnancy, she stood for a moment to look down at Polly.

To lose a child must cause the most unimaginable pain, and she couldn’t begin to comprehend how she would feel if she lost her baby. But she realised that being a mother, Polly would always carry the extra guilt of believing she’d played a part in her child’s tragic death – and she feared for her.

Drawing back the eiderdown, she slid in beside Polly and gently drew her into her embrace, offering the only comfort she could – that of warmth and presence and human kindness.

Polly didn’t seem to notice she was even there, her heart-rending sobs continuing as she curled ever tighter into the pillows.

Danuta silently lay beside her, remembering how much she’d longed for any kind of comfort when she’d lost her own family. Her thoughts went to her parents who’d been too frail to survive that first Warsaw winter of occupation without food and warmth. She had carried them one by one back to their tenement, and had spent a terrible night digging a grave in the iron-hard earth in the back garden. Their only epitaph had been a crude cross of twigs that she’d planted in the snow.

She closed her eyes as the memories flooded back, and willed them to fade – for although their scars had begun to heal, they were merely the first cuts to be deeply inflicted, and she’d had to go through far worse before she’d managed to arrive at this sanctuary in Cliffehaven.

Polly was aware of Danuta lying beside her, aware of her solidity and warmth – and although she found some comfort in her calm, silent presence, her warmth couldn’t reach Polly’s icy, empty core, or begin to touch the numb horror of what she’d done.

She pushed away from the pillows and sat up. ‘I should have gone with her,’ she rasped. ‘I should have been there.’ She grabbed Danuta’s hand. ‘I could have saved her, Danuta, I’m sure I could have. But her mummy wasn’t there – she was alone – all alone in the middle of that terrible sea. She must have been so frightened – so very frightened without me.’

Danuta gripped Polly’s fingers but said nothing. It was as if she understood that there were no words to erase her guilt or her pain.

‘She’s only five,’ she whispered, ‘so tiny – so very tiny in that great big sea without me to look after her.’ She had the most horrific image of Alice screaming for her as huge black waves carried her away, the echoes of those screams fading until they were silenced.

‘She would have called out for me,’ she murmured, the tears running hot on her face, salty on her lips. ‘Do you think she suffered – was she in pain as well as terror?’

‘You must not torture yourself with such thoughts,’ murmured Danuta.

‘But how can I not?’ stormed Polly. ‘I sent her away. I killed her.’

Danuta gripped her arms, her face inches from Polly’s. ‘You did what thousands of other parents did. You did it for the best reasons,’ said Danuta firmly. ‘And I’m sure your mother and sister were with her. They would have made sure she didn’t suffer.’

‘How do you know that?’ Polly swiped back her hair and rubbed away her tears. ‘How do you know that she … that she …?’ The images in her head were simply too awful to be articulated, and Polly drew her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms as the agony tore through her again and the tears flowed.

‘You need to sleep, Polly,’ said Danuta softly as she moved on the bed. ‘Drink this. It will help.’

‘I don’t want to sleep ever again. How can I rest when I have the death of my baby on my conscience? I should never have let her go – should never have let any of them go.’

‘You did not kill them,’ said Danuta firmly. ‘It was the Germans. Now drink this, Polly.’

Polly stared at her, bleary-eyed and overwhelmed with crippling emotion. But something in Danuta’s tone made her obey the order like an automaton. She felt the cold glass on her lips and the cool, strange-tasting water on her tongue, and drank it down. She didn’t care what it was – didn’t care about anything but the aching need to be with Alice and the rest of her family.

‘That is good,’ murmured Danuta. ‘Now, you lie down. Sleep will come soon.’

Polly felt like a rag doll, heavy-limbed and drained of energy as the eiderdown was settled over her shoulders. She could hear Danuta’s soft, soothing murmurs, but they seemed to be coming from a long way away.

Her eyelids fluttered and the terrifying images in her head seemed to fade – to become lost in the warm, dark clouds of oblivion that were beginning to envelop her and draw her into their comforting embrace.

* * *

Peggy was grateful for Ron’s sturdy and comforting presence as they waited in the kitchen for everyone to come home. He’d poured a generous glass of precious brandy for each of them and, as Harvey snored at their feet, they sat, deep in their own thoughts, as they watched the fire dwindle in the grate and listened to the solemn ticking of the mantel clock.

It felt like a lifetime ago since they’d all been dancing in the other room, and the memory of the fun and the careless laughter they’d shared served to make the tragic events of tonight even more shocking.

The three girls came in moments before Jim and, as Peggy told them what had happened, she felt the onset of tears again. Jim took her in his arms and, as she buried her face in his jacket, she realised just how badly she’d needed his comfort – his very solid, warm presence.

It was a subdued household that went to bed that night, and Peggy was not the only one who lay staring into the darkness for a long time before sleep overcame her.

It was dawn when Peggy brought in the bottles of milk from the front step and tramped into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She felt wrung out and terribly low. As she waited for the water to boil, she stared out over the back garden and counted her blessings. Her children were safe, she still had a home, a husband and a supportive father-in-law, and soon there would be a grandchild to love and protect.

‘You’re up early, dear. Couldn’t you sleep?’