The Silent War (35 page)

‘Funny, in’t it?’ said Jinx, her face pale and drawn as she gazed up the railway track for the first sign of her train. ‘The day after termorrow, me an’ Junior ’ere should’ve been on our way to fresh coffee and thick juicy steaks in the Brave New World. Now, it’s back to tea an’ oatcakes in good old Swansea.’

Sunday only caught part of what Jinx had said, but she knew how her mate was feeling. ‘You know, Jinx,’ she said. ‘It won’t be as bad as you think. I’m sure, after what’s happened, your mum and dad will take good care of you and the baby.’

Jinx threw out a wry grunt. ‘Oh, me mam’ll do that all right. Now she knows there’s no father around to compete with. I tell yer, me dad knew what he was doin’ when ’e named me Jinx.’

Sunday put a comforting arm around Jinx’s waist. She found it unbearable to recall everything Jinx had had to go through during the past week. The death of Erin had been such a cruel act of fate, to have been killed in a midair collision with another B17 after surviving nearly two years of hazardous bombing missions over enemy territory. Sunday knew that she would never forget those harrowing few moments when she stood beside Jinx and the men of the 381st Bomb Group, as they watched the giant Flying Fortress taking off from the runway at Ridgewell Airbase, carrying the bodies of Erin Wendell and his buddies back home to their last resting-places in America. No wonder Jinx never stopped stroking her stomach with such loving care. Her baby was all she had left now of a man with whom she had shared barely a year of her life.

‘’E was a good man, yer know, Sun,’ Jinx said, again feeling the tiny movement inside her stomach. ‘They all are, that bunch up the ’drome.’ And making quite sure that Sunday could read her lips, she added, ‘And that includes your bloke too.’

Sunday unconsciously bit her lip. As usual, Jinx had known exactly what was on Sunday’s mind.

‘Erin thought the world of ’im, yer know. ’E told me several times that if you two didn’t stick tergether, you’d be a couple of chumps.’ The strained smile she tried to offer looked odd without any of her usual smattering of make-up. ‘You won’t be a dumb idiot, will you, Sun?’

Sunday smiled weakly, and shook her head.

Although the sound of a train whistle was heard approaching from the distance, Jinx resisted the temptation to turn and look up the track. ‘In any case, I want you two to be Junior’s godparents!’

This brought a more relaxed smile from Sunday. ‘Then you’re still convinced it’s going to be a boy?’ she asked.

‘Don’t be so silly!’ Jinx replied. ‘If Erin says it’s goin’ ter be a boy, a boy it is!’

From the corner of her eye, Sunday caught sight of the train slowly chugging towards the end of the platform. It was the moment she had been dreading, and it prompted both girls to throw their arms around each other in a tight embrace.

‘I want to tell you something, Sunday Collins,’ Jinx said, pulling herself away just enough to be able to let Sunday read her lips. ‘I’ve only known you a few months, an’ yet I feel as though I’ve known you all my life. An’ that’s just what I want to do, girl. I want ter know you
all
my life. You’re the best I know. Please keep it that way, won’t you?’

Sunday was doing her best to stop the tears flowing down her cheeks.

Whilst they were standing there, thick black smoke from the engine momentarily engulfed them. When the train finally came to a halt, Sunday quickly opened the door of an empty compartment. Then, after helping Jinx to get her luggage on board, she slammed the door behind her.

Jinx immediately leaned out of the window, and stretched down to grasp hold of Sunday’s hands. ‘You better keep in touch, girl – or else.’

Sunday squeezed Jinx’s hands. ‘Just try to stop me,’ she replied. There were only two other passengers boarding the train, but as the train guard at the end of the platform blew his whistle and raised his green flag, a young British sailor wearing tunic and bell-bottoms suddenly rushed along the platform. Jinx immediately took advantage
of
the boy’s panic, and opened her compartment door for him.

‘Thanks, mate!’ said the sailor, as he leapt on board and took a seat by the window facing Jinx.

Jinx slammed the door behind him, and leaned out of the window again. ‘Well now,’ she said, with a touch of the old twinkle in her eye. ‘Looks as though it’s not goin’ ter be such a borin’ journey as I expected!’

Even though the train then started to move off, Sunday just had to laugh. It was the way she wanted to remember Jinx.

A few moments later, the train was easing out of the tiny station, winding its way through the friendly green landscape of the Colne Valley, and leaving behind a thin trail of dark black smoke which gradually rose up into the azure-blue sky.

Sunday watched the train chugging off for as long as she could, and she was still waving madly to Jinx as she caught her last sight of her. Then the engine picked up speed and headed out further and further into the valley. For a moment or so, Sunday just stood there, feeling very empty and lost. But then she started thinking about Jinx, sitting opposite that young Jack tar, all alone together in their compartment. And as she strolled off slowly along the platform, a comforting smile came to Sunday’s face.

There was no doubt about it. Jinx Daphne Lloyd was going to be all right.

During the middle of April, East Anglia experienced a record heatwave. With RAF and USAF bombing raids on Germany now at an end, there was actually some spare time for the exhausted air-crews to enjoy the premature hot sunshine, and the main task was now to use the giant Flying Fortresses to bring home liberated Allied prisoners of war.

At Cloy’s Farm, the girls were biding their time. With the end of the war expected within the following few weeks, all of them had decided to return to their homes.
However,
for their remaining workdays, they were given the arduous task of hoeing out the weeds in the freshly sown barley fields. Owing to the heatwave, the Essex clay was particularly rock-hard, and breaking it down whilst coping with temperatures in the 80s was tough going. There was also a great deal of anger amongst the girls, who had been told that on their release they would not be entitled to the same treatment as other conscripts, who could expect wartime gratuities, clothing and ration coupon allowances, and opportunities to take part in a free government training programme for other jobs.

Since the beginning of April, Gary had been relieved of any further operational flying duties, and this gave him and Sunday the chance to spend more time together than they had ever done before. With near-perfect weather and long hours of daylight, they used their time to cycle around some of the neighbouring villages, where time seemed to have stood still, and little churches that were tucked away behind ancient graveyards and whose bells were poised to ring out the end of a long and brutal war. Everywhere they passed, people were standing outside their cottages and houses, either taking in the hot evening air, or preparing their gardens for the oncoming season. In one small village called Stambourne, they stopped to talk to a middle-aged couple, known affectionately as Jessie and Ted, who even asked them in for a cup of tea and a piece of Jessie’s home-made custard tart. It was at times like this that Sunday realised just how slow and different life in the countryside was from the congested streets of London.

However great her joy, Sunday knew only too well that these idyllic few weeks couldn’t last for ever.

‘They’re sending us home, Sun – the whole 381. It’s not for a couple of weeks yet, but I’m in the first group.’

Sunday had been expecting Gary’s news ever since she was told about the death of President Roosevelt a few days earlier. Now that operational activities were
winding
down in Europe, it was apparently well known that the President’s successor, Harry S. Truman, was keen to get his armed forces back home as quickly as possible. Sunday knew that it would only be a matter of time before Gary was amongst them. It was inevitable.

Until this moment, everything had been quite magical. They had taken almost half an hour to cycle up to Gosfield Lake, where they stretched out on the grass banks and watched the locals rowing and sailing their boats. The sun was so hot that, like most of the other people lapping up the heatwave there, Gary had immediately stripped off to the waist, and Sunday had removed her dress to sunbathe in her bathing costume. Gary had been dreading telling her his news, and he only did so when the two of them were idly cooling their feet in the cold water of the rather murky lake.

‘I told them I wanted to stay behind,’ he said, his arm around her shoulders, and making sure she could read his lips. ‘They said it wasn’t possible. The war’s not over yet. I have to go back home first.’ He sighed, then added sourly, ‘I guess that’s the way of good old Uncle Sam.’

Sunday reacted far better than she ever thought she would. ‘There’s not much we can do about it,’ she said, trying to give him a reassuring smile. ‘If you have to go, you have to go.’

Gary waited a moment, then removed his arm from around her shoulder. ‘Then is that it?’ he asked.

Over these past months, Sunday had got to know Gary well enough to realise that whenever he started to talk to her in sign language, there was something bothering him. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked anxiously.

‘I’m asking if you care about my going home? I’m asking if you care that we could be apart for quite some time?’

Although Sunday was getting used to Gary’s sudden mood changes, it still took her by surprise when his face tensed up, and his sign language was used with an aggressive slapping of fingers against his palms, or
his
fists were twisted on top of each other to show the white of his knuckles.

‘Of course I care!’ she said quickly, hurt that he should have even thought otherwise. Knowing that it would make him angry if she didn’t make the effort to reply to him in sign language, she held her up her hands, and slowly replied, ‘But what am I to think, Gary? It was bound to happen sooner or later.’

To her surprise, Gary suddenly took hold of both her hands, and held on to them. He had a stern expression on his face, and it worried her. ‘Sunday,’ he said, using only his lips to communicate with her. ‘Why haven’t you ever told me about this guy who’s been tailin’ you?’

Gary’s question came like a bolt out of the blue, and Sunday felt herself tense. She knew only too well that she could have avoided this moment, but only now did she realise how stupid she had been. In those few seconds of panic she asked herself why she hadn’t told him about Ernie Mancroft, and how he had pursued her obsessively even to the point of finding his way into the girls’ billet in the middle of the night to leave a snapshot photo of himself. ‘I’m sorry Gary,’ was all she could say. ‘I know I should have told you, but I just didn’t want you to get involved.’

‘Involved!’ Gary pulled his feet out of the water and knelt beside her. ‘Fer Chrissake, Sunday!’ he snapped, again using aggressive sign language. ‘A guy tells all my buddies you’re goin’ to marry him, and you tell me you don’t want me to get involved! Have you any idea what a jerk you’ve made me look?’

‘Gary, I’m sorry.’

‘No, Sunday,’ snapped Gary, his fingers slapping against the palms of his hands as he talked. ‘I’m the one who’s sorry. If somethin’s been goin’ on between you and this guy—’

‘No, Gary!’ insisted Sunday, grabbing hold of his hands. ‘There’s been nothing between me and Ernie
Mancroft.
Not now, not ever! I hate him. Can’t you understand that? I hate the very sight of him!’

‘Bullshit!’

‘It’s true, I tell you!’ Sunday was now agonising, and didn’t know how to convince Gary. ‘Ernie came looking for me whilst you and me were down at Thorpe Bay.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he wants me. He’s always wanted me – ever since we worked together in the Bagwash. I’ve tried to get rid of him. Time and time again I’ve told him to go away and leave me alone, but he just won’t ever give up.’

‘Tell me just one thing, Sunday,’ said Gary, staring straight into her eyes. ‘Did you ever give this guy any reason to believe that
you
wanted
him
?’

Sunday slowly shook her head. ‘I’ve never given Ernie Mancroft anything but a passing smile.’

For a moment or so, Gary stared straight at her. Then he sat back on his heels, and tried to work things out in his mind. ‘If what you’re sayin’ is true,’ he said eventually, ‘we have to do somethin’ about it.’

Sunday shook her head. ‘You’ll never stop Ernie. He’s dangerous, Gary. Believe me, he’d kill anyone who got in his way.’ She also sat back on her heels. ‘I’m very scared of him.’

The two of them were now facing each other.

Gary leaned across and took hold of her hands, held on to them, and looked directly at her. ‘Watch what I’m sayin’, Sun,’ he said, talking gently with his lips only. ‘As long as I’m around, you have no need to be scared of anyone, OK?’

Sunday nodded.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘There are jerks like this all over the place. The world’s full of ’em. But if we let ’em have their way, then they’ll take over. The fact is, we’re not goin’ to let them take over.’

Sunday tried to speak, but he put his finger to her lips and stopped her.

‘We can only do that, Sun, if we trust each other. But
I
have to know what’s goin’ on. Do you understand what I’m sayin’?’

Again Sunday nodded.

Gary drew closer, and with one finger cleared a few strands of her strawberry-blonde hair which had dropped across one of her eyes. ‘You remember when I told you about what happened to me when I accidentally killed that kid back home?’

Sunday nodded.

‘Well, that was a secret that I had no right to keep from you.’ He looked deep into her eyes, and smiled reassuringly. ‘You have to treat me the same way, Sun, because if we keep things from each other, there’s no trust.’ He moved even closer, held on to her hands, and talked calmly and firmly. ‘Lemme tell you somethin’,’ he said. ‘I hate the guy that’s been doin’ these things to you. But he won’t win, because I won’t let him. If he shows up again, I wanna know about it. Do we have a deal?’