The Lost Days of Summer (16 page)

‘It’s one of the Irish ferries they’ve taken into service, the HMT
Scotia
, I think,’ Nell said uneasily, and saw the soldiers to whom she was talking exchange a significant glance. They would have moved on but she grabbed one of them by his torn and filthy tunic sleeve. ‘Have you heard anything? Anything bad, I mean?’

Neither man answered, but the next soldier in line, who had a blood-caked bandage round his head, spoke up. ‘Did you say you knew someone aboard the
Scotia
? I’ve heard the Luftwaffe dropped a bomb clean down her funnel and she sank within minutes. Lost wi’ all hands, I reckon.’

Nell felt a terrible coldness creep over her, felt herself sway, and swiftly reached forward to take a drink from the trolley and hand it to the waiting boy, for he was little more. ‘All hands?’ she faltered. ‘No one saved?’

The soldier whose tunic she had clutched frowned and patted her arm. ‘The
Scotia
was hit all right, but there were fellows saved,’ he assured her. ‘Don’t you start worrying yet, miss. Your sweetheart will be coming home to you, mark my words.’

‘He’s not my sweetheart; just a good pal who’s worked with me and taught me a good deal,’ Nell said, pulling herself together. ‘Nevertheless, I hope you’re right and he’s been picked up.’ The boy with the bandaged head was simply repeating gossip, she told herself, and making the most of it, what was more. He could not be aware that almost all the crew of the
Scotia
were Holyhead men, well known to everyone in the small port. She pushed her dread that she might never see Bryn again out of her mind and smiled brightly at the men as they filed past. ‘Hot tea and a cheese ab-dab? Go on, take a couple; you look as if you could do with feeding up. How much longer will the evacuation last, do you think?’

But no one had a clue and once more Nell found herself playing the waiting game, though this time it was the same for everyone. Auntie Kath had only one meadow put down to grass, but because of the evacuation, though the hay was cut, it simply lay there in the brilliant sunshine waiting for the men and women with their pitchforks to turn it so that it could dry out on both sides. The friendly get-together, to which Nell had so much looked forward, did not happen. Indeed, she, Auntie Kath and Eifion had to do everything, starting when the sky was grey with dawn and finishing when they could no longer see to work, though a neighbour had come and built the stacks, since this was specialised work.

‘It’s true what you heard; that the
Scotia
was sunk, and lives were lost,’ Auntie Kath said, when she returned from another visit to the port. ‘I spoke to Arfon – he’s come home uninjured and wasn’t aboard the ship which sank, thank God – and asked after Bryn. He said he believed Bryn was on the
Scotia
, but he said a good number of the crew had been saved; fortunately she went down fairly near the shore so the little boats picked up the men in the water. And Bryn could swim like a fish, so he had a better chance than most.’

Then one morning Eifion came to work late, his face grey, his steps faltering. He told them that Bryn had indeed been aboard the
Scotia
when she was hit, and though a couple of his pals had asked every survivor they could find for news of Bryn, as yet there had been no word.

Nell wept unrestrainedly all through that dreadful day, though she and Eifion did their best to do their work. She told herself that although she could scarcely claim to have loved Bryn she had liked him very much, admired his courage and tenacity, and could not believe she would never see him again. ‘He was so excited at the thought of being useful,’ she told her aunt, seeing the tears in Auntie Kath’s eyes and knowing that her own lids were puffy and red with weeping. ‘He tried to kiss me goodbye, only I wouldn’t let him, though I did wish him luck . . . oh, Auntie, life is too cruel. Is it – is it absolutely certain?’

‘Nothing’s certain in this life, cariad,’ Eifion put in. ‘I won’t give up hope until the last man’s ashore. I’ve not been to the Gors Hospital on Garreglwyd Road, but I’ve heard from my nephew Rhys that Bryn hasn’t been taken in there.’

‘Oh, really, you two,’ Auntie Kath said crossly. ‘Anyone would think Holyhead was the only place in the entire country to have men returning from Dunkirk, and the Gors the only hospital. Young Bryn probably arrived at one of the southern ports and likely he’s tucked up in a hospital bed in . . . in Southampton or Portsmouth or even in Liverpool, telling all the nurses how he saved the world. So just get on with your work and look on the bright side. That way we stand a chance of winning this perishin’ war.’

Nell did her best to believe her aunt was right, but she started to have nightmares in which she attended Bryn’s funeral or came upon his body on a great white beach, and despite her resolve to remain cheerful and optimistic she began to feel sure her friend really had drowned when the
Scotia
went down. Nell threw herself into her work now with a sort of grim fury. The damned Jerries must be stopped, she thought, and she for one would do everything in her power to stop them. When she was old enough she would join one of the women’s services, as her mother had, and help to win the war that way, though she knew that for the time being at least Auntie Kath needed her desperately. Bryn had been a good friend and she meant to avenge his death, though when she said this to her aunt that lady gave her a quizzical look and said she’d do it best by helping to produce as much food as was humanly possible. Nell had to smile; Auntie Kath was so sensible! She had loved Bryn in her way, but did not let her very real grief intrude into her working life.

Nell herself thought of Bryn often, talked to him in the quiet solitude of her bedroom before she slept at night, promised never to forget him. Not for the first time, she regretted that she had sometimes been abrupt with him, teased him, slapped him down when he had tried to kiss her goodbye. He had wanted her to pretend that she was his girl; why had she refused to do so? It would have hurt nobody and would have pleased her old pal.

She tried to tell herself that she must not brood, but it was no simple matter to put the only real friend she had made since arriving at Ty Hen out of her mind and she continued to grieve until Auntie Kath, who had caught her having a quiet little weep one evening, told her that life must go on and she should put Bryn’s tragic death behind her. ‘A great many others suffered the same fate,’ she reminded her niece, ‘and many more will die before this war is won. You feel Bryn’s death personally because the two of you were good friends, but you mustn’t dwell on it; that would be unhealthy as well as unhelpful. Instead, you must concentrate on doing everything you can to help the war effort. If everyone else does the same, we’ll win all right, just like we did in the last lot.’

Then the letter from Trixie Whitaker arrived, and Nell felt that her cup of misery was overflowing. She read it at breakfast one morning, and could scarcely believe her eyes. When she had perused it twice she handed it to her aunt without comment, and saw Auntie Kath’s brows almost disappear into her hair, though she showed no other sign either of surprise or of disapproval as she read. Eifion glanced at Nell, then got to his feet. ‘Start the milking I will,’ he said awkwardly. ‘No need to hurry yourself, girl; join me when you’ve finished here.’

Nell thanked him and took the letter back from her aunt to read it again, still almost unable to believe it.

Dear Little Nell
,

Well, I don’t suppose it will surprise you when I tell you I’ve had enough of the WAAF
.
The way I’ve been treated is ridiculous, and me a grown woman with a daughter almost old enough to join up herself! Go here, go there, do this, do that, there was no standing it. Then I got punishment drill for something so small I can’t even remember what it was, then I was a bit late – I missed the gharry which I should have caught – back at the airfield and they said I’d gone AWOL which means absent without leave. For a few hours – I ask you! They tried to say I couldn’t leave the station but I wasn’t standing for that, so I waited until the place was quiet and everyone had gone to bed and escaped. I guessed they’d search for me in Liverpool or even at Ty Hen, but in any case, darling, I’ve met the most wonderful man, quite as wonderful as your father. He’s a Canadian, and he’s just been sent up to Scotland on some sort of secret mission, and he insists that I should follow him there. You mustn’t breathe a word of this, darling, so I won’t tell you his name or anything else about him except that he means to marry me as soon as his divorce is absolute, and until then we’re both keeping our heads low, but I’ll write as often as I can. You must address your letters to your Auntie Susan in Bootle, because she has promised to act as post office between us and will forward your letters on to me at the address I’ve given her. Your Auntie Lou has been most unsympathetic and unkind. She thinks I ought to stay with the WAAF, as she is doing, and we had several quarrels. We are no longer speaking; I assume she must be jealous
.

But to return to nicer things. After the war Gil – that’s his first name, sweetheart – means to carry me off to Canada, the land of opportunity, he says. I told him I had a grown-up daughter and he said you were welcome to come with us, but as I said, by the time the war’s over you’ll be eighteen or nineteen, I suppose, and will want to fend for yourself
.

I’m very sorry your friend was drowned when the
Scotia
went down, Nell my dearest, but these things happen in war. Dear me, this letter is far too long; I must make my man his tea! How strange, but nice, that sounds after so long on my own
.

Take care of yourself and write often, chuck
.

Your loving mother xxx

‘Well?’ Nell said brusquely, as her aunt handed the letter back. ‘I did know she wasn’t happy in the WAAF, because she kept grumbling and saying they were treated like children, and told to obey ridiculous rules, but I never thought . . . never guessed . . . And of course Auntie Lou wouldn’t throw in the towel, as my mother has. Well, for a start, she’s still got a husband, though he’s at sea. But she wouldn’t let him down by chickening out.’

‘Yes, you’re right about Lou; she wouldn’t let her family down. But I can’t pretend I’m astonished at what your mother has done,’ Auntie Kath said cautiously after a moment. ‘You were cross with me when I said Trixie was a good time girl, or words to that effect, but this letter makes it clear that she’s not changed all that much since we were young.’

‘But to leave the WAAF just because they expected her to – to do as she was told and – and to play fair,’ Nell muttered. ‘And to dismiss Bryn’s death as though – as though it were something of no particular importance, when I told her in my last letter how brave he was and how I missed him, how I . . . oh, Auntie Kath, how can I bear it?’

And on the words she burst into tears, crying as though her heart would break. She felt completely alone. Bryn, the only true friend she had made since coming to Ty Hen, had gone for ever and her mother, the woman she had thought so wonderful, had gone too, for Nell knew she could never regard Trixie with admiration again. To run away just because she couldn’t – or more likely wouldn’t – abide by rules which had been made for her own good and that of her fellow Waafs! And I bet that chap never marries her, Nell thought bitterly, scrubbing fiercely at her eyes with the backs of her hands. When his divorce becomes absolute, indeed! That’s a grand excuse for not getting wed, that is. Why, for all she knows he might have half a dozen wives, and if he has, good luck to him! And as for writing to Mam care of Auntie Susan, I shall do no such thing. Why should I?

She said as much to Kath, who shook her head and wagged an admonitory finger. ‘She’s still your mother, even if she has behaved badly. Just write a reply, keeping it short and formal, telling her not to do anything foolish. The day will come when she’ll need you, if I’m any judge of men. And in the meantime, get on with your life as though the news of her – her infatuation meant nothing to you. Knowing Trixie, her letters will get fewer as her interest in this chap becomes stronger. If it does, of course.’ She smiled almost kindly at her niece. ‘And she’s right about one thing, you know. As you get older you and your ma will grow apart, and that’s natural, and a good thing. So for now, just forget the whole matter and do everything you can to win the war.’

Nell decided this was good advice, but misery had her in its grip and when she and Eifion had finished the milking she told her aunt that she needed to be alone and would like to go off as soon as her chores were done, to get used to the horrible things that had happened.

She was surprised but pleased when Auntie Kath nodded approvingly. ‘Go right now; take some food and a bottle of my raspberry cordial and stay away for the whole day, but be back before dark or I’ll worry,’ Kath said. ‘And don’t be too hard on your mother. After your father died I told anyone who would listen that Trixie was one of those women who needed a man, unlike myself.’ She smiled ruefully at her niece. ‘Well, it’s taken a bit longer than I anticipated, but I’ve been proved right. Your mother is still quite young, and she used to be very pretty; I don’t suppose that has changed, has it?’

Nell sniffed mournfully. ‘No, she’s still very pretty,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘But that isn’t an excuse for behaving badly; nor a reason, either.’

‘No, but pretty women expect to be cosseted by men; courted by them, too. Look, queen, if we’re being honest, it won’t hurt you to admit that your ma has had admirers before. Isn’t that so?’

Nell admitted that it was, and her aunt, who had been packing sandwiches, cake and biscuits into Nell’s haversack, nodded. ‘There you are, then! But once she was cut off from Liverpool, the Scottie, and the men who danced attendance on her – all the things she knew best, in fact – she must have been lonely, as I know you are. Now she won’t be lonely ever again – or that’s what she thinks – because she’s found someone to take your dad’s place; no harm in that. And though I know it upset you when she said she’d told her Canadian that you wouldn’t want to emigrate after the war was over, she was right, wasn’t she? Do you want to set off into the unknown with only your ma and a strange man to keep you company?’