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He gave her a wink. ‘I’ve missed you too, honey. All my mates are revelling in VE Day, so why wouldn’t I do that too?’ he blithely responded. ‘It’s a great cause for us guys who’ve worked hard for you Brits during the war.’
‘Thankfully you’ve been spared the trauma that many have suffered. I’m so thrilled you are still fit and willing to join us.’ Joanne felt utterly breathless. His face was mere inches from her own, so irresistibly close that her heart pummelled with anticipation. His sculpted mouth curled into an entrancing smile and she ached to taste it and stroke his soft cheeks. This handsome GI was so intoxicating, such a wonderful and fun man and no doubt a hero as many American troopers were.
As he stroked away a curl of her fair hair, his blue eyes gleaming with admiration, Joanne twinkled her gaze provocatively up at him, desperately hoping the sight of her in this new blue dress that hugged her figure in a most becoming way would captivate him. She’d clipped some of her blonde hair up on top of her head into rolled bangs and the rest fell neatly over her shoulder. She’d also patted her pale face with a little powder and wore a bright red lipstick, eager to look as attractive as possible.
As if recognizing this emotion in her he gave a wicked smile and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘You’re such a pretty girl, honey.’ Then licking the soft curve of her upper lip, he slid his hand over her cheek and neck.
Blushing with delight at this compliment, Joanne found her breathing quicken under the thrill of his caresses. Seconds later she was held in his arms where she’d most longed to be during all these endless days of waiting to see him again. How fortunate she was to receive the attention he was giving her. His hands rested possessively around her back, his cheek lay against hers and he was pressing her hard against his tall, strong body to give her a passionate kiss. Her heart raced and she felt slightly giddy at the quiver of his tongue as it probed her mouth, the enticing warmth of him running through her like fire. Oh, how she adored him.
It was then that she became aware of a young woman standing close by. Doe-eyed and attractive, she was clinging fast to his arm. Shrugging her casually off, he whispered in Joanne’s ear, ‘Not too impressed with this festivity. Don’t we usually slip away somewhere quiet on our own, which is far more entertaining, huh? Let’s take a walk along the beach, honey.’
Joanne had always loved the time they’d spent walking barefoot on the beach together, holding hands and enjoying the comforting sounds of the sea. He would talk about his dreams for a new career once the war was over and she would happily listen, hoping to be a part of his plan. He’d also succeeded on numerous occasions to persuade her to join him in some quiet Nissen hut near Squire’s Gate airport, or in his jeep, where they would hug and kiss. She felt completely smitten by his attention to her.
Today the promenade was packed with hundreds of folk having fun, plus horse-drawn carriages and GI jeeps scuttling around. Glancing across at her sister, who was now dancing with a young boy, she hesitated. Megan was still quite young, about to turn eleven come September. Being only five at the start of the war she had at first badly missed their mother and suffered much in the way of trauma. Mam had used to write to them quite regularly, but then there came a time that whenever she or Megan wrote to her they failed to receive a reply. They’d entirely lost contact with their mother, perhaps because she’d moved or was dead. Megan being something of a shy, awkward girl, greatly in need of care, was convinced their mother had lost interest in them. How could they know? Not certain they would ever find her again, Joanne thought of herself as a surrogate mother, so felt entirely responsible for looking after her sister.
Bearing all this in mind she should maybe stay close to her right now, but the loud sound of music playing was destroying all hope of her speaking to Teddy, which Joanne felt desperate to do. Walking along the beach would be much more private. Noting his admiring gaze fixed upon her, Joanne found the prospect of spending time alone with him far too irresistible to refuse. Giving him a nod, she said, ‘I am looking forward to dancing with you but we could take a short walk first, although not too far.’
‘’Course not, honey.’
Giving the other young woman’s furious expression a charming smile of apology, Joanne linked her arm with his and let him lead her away from the promenade down the steps to the beach. Would she now have the opportunity to ask the question she longed for an answer to? How to go about that was not easy to decide.
They walked for some distance along the beach close to the sea, feeling the coolness of tiny waves splashing against their feet, causing them to jump and giggle. Once they reached the quiet area below the North Pier, he leaned his back against a pillar and pulled her tightly into his arms. Joanne eagerly welcomed more of his passionate kisses, giving a little sigh of pleasure as he slid his hands over her breasts and stomach. When he pushed her down onto the sand, tugged up her skirt to caress her thighs and pressed hard against her private parts, she squealed. Whether that was his hand or another part of him pressing into her she felt too naive to understand. A sense of panic overwhelmed her and, pushing him away, she gave him a frown, lightened with a small, fetching smile.
‘Don’t be naughty, Teddy, we aren’t married. Although were you to ask me to go home with you to America to become your darling wife I might well say yes, having spent so many happy months with you and absolutely adoring you.’
Leaning back, he gave her a rueful smile. ‘Oh my, how irresistible you are, sweet, shy and prudish little Joanne. I adore you too. Wish that could be possible.’
‘Why would it not be?’ It surprised her that he was accusing her of being prudish, considering what she’d just allowed him to do. Had she said the wrong thing by having finally admitted what she dreamed of and how much she loved him?
‘We guys have to go through quite a long process to receive the necessary permission for that,’ he said, giving a sparkling smile before he kissed her again, proving how the glory of his desire had lit a certainty within her that he was in love with her.
‘Oh, I see. I should make it clear that when you manage to arrange our future together my young sister must also accompany me to America and remain a part of my life. You need to understand how very much she depends upon me. I’m sure you will accept that as you have no wish to lose me,’ she coyly remarked, giving him an enchanting smile. ‘Will you write and let me know when you wish us to join you?’
‘Hey, sure thing, honey. I’ll give that some attention once I get back home, find a job and sort my life out.’
Excitedly waiting for more details of where he lived and when he was leaving, she was startled when a tribe of his pals suddenly appeared by his side and they started to punch and laugh at each other. The expression in his blue eyes now looked much more obsessed with these other Yanks than with her. He lifted her up in his arms, gave her a warm hug and one more kiss, smoothing his lips over hers, his tongue again dipping into her mouth. Then he whispered in her ear, ‘Sorry, can’t hang around any longer. We gotta go now!’
What he seemed to be saying did not fully register in the fuzz of emotion that clouded her brain. ‘Oh, no, please don’t go back to the camp yet. I want you to stay and dance with me on this day of celebration.’
After giving a burst of laughter, he said, ‘I’m aware of your fondness for dancing, honey. It’s been great to spend time with you. Have fun and enjoy life, now this blasted war is over.’ He released her and flung his arms around his mates. Joanne felt a cold wind blow over her as she watched them race away then up the steps to the promenade, jump into a jeep and, giving her a wave, they drove away. It came to her in that terrifying moment that these GIs were not simply returning to the camp in Garstang or Warton Military Site where some of them were stationed, but heading back to the United States of America. And she had no notion of where Teddy lived in that far away country, since he’d been interrupted by his mates before getting round to giving her such detail.
Oh, what anguish Joanne felt at losing him. She could but hope he would write to her, knowing she lived with those dear landladies in Jubilee House, once he’d sorted his life out as promised. Or might he forget all about her? What a dreadful prospect. And having lost contact with her mother, as well as their dear brother Danny, uncertain whether either of them was alive or dead, Joanne worried that she might never find any love in her life ever again.
Chapter Two (#ulink_d68a9973-33c8-5e0f-8a75-7680da644734)
Evie, her niece Cathie and friend Brenda had together enjoyed the VE celebration for the end of the war. Many local merchant seamen had delivered food for the party, including non-rationed pork, which they’d happily roasted for everyone. What a treat that had been. Now the three of them were sitting in Campfield Market, each savouring a delicious custard tart. The outside market was bustling with people as always, today all chatting and laughing, singing and joking. Here, in the inside market at their favourite café, it was quiet and more relaxed, happily surrounded by smiling faces. Evie watched as a pretty young girl tried on a red felt wide-brimmed hat at Higginson’s millinery stall, turning her head this way and that to admire herself in the mirror, perhaps her way of celebrating.
An ache punctuated her heart as Evie recalled how she’d seen very little of her son and even less of her daughters, Joanne and Megan, since they’d been evacuated. They had spent a brief spell at home back in 1940, when it had initially appeared to be a phoney war, but once the bombing started they were again evacuated.
At first they’d remained easily in touch and she’d gone to help her girls when concerned about the way they were being treated by one family they’d been billeted with. A short time later she’d received no further letters from them to say where they were living, probably because they’d been moved around quite a bit. Evie had too, sadly losing their first home and had rented many other single rooms since. During the Christmas Blitz when one of the grain elevators had been bombed, buildings had collapsed and burned for days afterwards. Many mills and warehouses, including the one she’d worked for, had also suffered fires. How tragic that had been. It had turned into a nasty war, not least to lose touch with her daughters. She’d had to endure severe rationing, hard work at a different mill and the anguish of not knowing whether her missing husband was dead or alive. At times Evie’s strong resilience had faded because of this heart-rending pain and exhaustion. Even now she felt a slur of anguish within her as she longed to have her family back. Would they too be enjoying this celebration?
‘I’m aware this bloody war is still going on in the East, but I live in hope my son and daughters will all be home soon,’ she stoutly announced. ‘They’ve been gone over five years and I’ve missed them so much.’
‘Haven’t you seen them at all?’ Cathie asked, looking stunned.
‘My son Danny is in Cumberland where he’s lived throughout the war. I’ve written to him regularly and did once pay a visit. It took twenty-four hours or more to get so far north with the train constantly halting. And the cost of the journey was considerable, not to mention finding local accommodation. Not an experience I could afford to repeat. He was then moved out to a camp for some reason or other.’
‘Oh, poor you. I’ve every sympathy with that, Aunty. And didn’t you once tell me that you have to pay six shillings a week for their care?’
‘Indeed I do, whenever I can afford to, although thankfully the Government has helped with that cost. Frustratingly, I’ve not received details for some years of exactly where my daughters are. I’ve spoken to our local billeting officer to ask him to investigate where they might have been moved to, presumably somewhere in Cumberland or Westmorland. He’s agreed to look into that for me by contacting the volunteers who do this job in rural areas without pay,’ she said, showing a slight tension in her smile of approval.
Reaching forward, her niece gave her hand a little squeeze. ‘I’m sure they’ll be located and soon be back in your care. Little Heather here is safe too, although as you know we’ve recently lost her mum, my beloved sister,’ she said, tears suddenly flooding her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.
Evie gave a sad smile. ‘I know, dearie. Such a tragedy that Sally should be killed in a road accident having survived this dratted war. Thanks to you this baby is indeed safe and well loved. And, as you know, I’m happy to help child-mind whenever necessary. Oh, it is a bit nerve-wracking when I think the last view of my children was when they too were still young. Now they are so much older I worry about how they’ll react once they do come home. Will I even recognize them?’
Cathie’s friend Brenda gave a little nod. ‘I can understand your concern, Evie. When I was working in France with the Oeuvre de Secours aux Enfants, known as the OSE, many children who had lost touch with their parents developed problems and some had no wish to return home. They might have grown very fond of the family they’d been living with throughout the war, some suffered the loss of memory of their real parents, or their father could be dead and they’d no idea where their mother might be.’ Brenda fell silent, making no mention of what she had suffered in France.
‘Are you saying mine could accuse me of abandoning them?’ Evie asked, filled with a burst of anxiety.
Brenda firmly shook her head. ‘I’m sure yours were much safer than was the case in occupied France. Some suffered a heart-rending and difficult time there. Not at all easy for them. I’m sure your son and daughters will be eager to come home and see you, their beloved mother.’
‘I do hope you’re right.’
‘Why would they not be when you’re such a loving, caring person?’ Cathie said. ‘Your family has been much more fortunate than mine, despite the war. I wish you’d been my mum, instead of my own selfish mother who is always more interested in her string of lovers. Not to mention my absentee father, your brother, whom I haven’t seen in years as he’s apparently living somewhere abroad. But have you heard any news about dear Uncle Donald, your darling husband? Could he be safe and well?’
A crease marred Evie’s brow as she recalled the years of silence she’d endured after he’d been declared missing, constantly worrying over whether he would ever be found or presumed dead. Eventually she was informed that he’d been captured and was being held as a prisoner of war. Now she unfolded a letter and handed it over to her niece with a warm smile. ‘I’ve recently had word that as an ex-PoW he’s now in rehabilitation being cared for by the Civil Settlement Service. They are checking his health and helping him to recover. He’s apparently a bit thin and worn out, but alive and will hopefully be home soon. How wonderful that will be. I can’t wait to see him,’ she said, her face a picture of joy. ‘My dream is to have all my family together again. I do hope you’re right, Brenda, and my son and daughters will be eager to come back home. I will pay attention to any possible problems they might have. Having no idea where they are, I shall go and speak to the billeting officer again, to see if he’s found them.’
‘I’m goin’ to fall, sir. One more move and this mountain and I will part company,’ Danny yelled. He was attempting to climb a mountain and a piece of rock had broken off somewhere below his right foot. He could feel his legs weakening, control oozing out of them.
‘You’re doing fine, Danny. Pull back. Your stomach is too close to the rock face. Look for a hold. You’re fourteen, not four. As you are so fond of telling us.’
‘If I lean back I’ll be into a skydive without a parachute.’ Panic swelled and bubbled in his stomach. ‘I daren’t move me eyes let alone me ’ead.’
A chuckle came from below. ‘There’s a jug handle up there. Get your hand round that and you’ll feel safe and secure again.’ This advice came from the camp leader who was supposedly a gifted mountain instructor if dismissive of this climb, treating it as a small practice.
Danny, however, had a very different view. He could hardly believe this death-defying feat he was involved with, probably his last movement in this world. How could a mountain have a jug handle? He did know, of course, that this name was simply a label for a particular type of hold. But he’d give anything right now to be safely back in his tent enjoying a glass of milk, his mouth having gone dry with fear. In all the time he’d spent at this camp he’d made no attempt to learn how to climb. But he’d been bullied into taking part in this event. Now he clung on, shivering, knowing that if he was to stand any chance of being chosen as a team leader on the next walking expedition he had to make an extra-special effort. His fingers stretched out and curled around the jug handle, which did feel better, and he let out a sigh of relief.
‘Now put your right foot where your left hand is and make ready to swing round and go backwards up the chimney.’
These instructions would have set him laughing if he hadn’t been too nervous of the results of such a foolish act.
‘This rope is too slack. I’m jiggered, so take it up,’ he yelled. ‘Who is belaying me?’ When the answer came from above he wished he hadn’t asked.
‘It’s me-ee. Yet again I have you in my power.’ This comment was followed by a much-exaggerated imitation of a wolf howling.
Danny saw a smirk of satisfaction on Willie’s face. Why had he stupidly agreed to come on this climb, which made him feel a complete and utter fool? He could never trust this alleged old friend who’d become so domineering and bad-tempered due to a disagreement and row they’d had some years ago. He’d been a pain ever since because of what he’d done back then. At first Danny had been billeted on a farm, which he’d loved. It had been hard work with one or two problems but he’d enjoyed roaming around the countryside, milking cows and feeding chickens. Willie had lived nearby and when charged with some petty crime of nicking fruit and veg, he’d insisted that he was only helping Danny look for stuff to eat and sell. They’d both been sent to this camp, classed as problem boys.
Since then this nasty liar frequently ordered him to do all manner of jobs or stupid tasks that Willie had no wish to be involved in, demands Danny had to accept to avoid being beaten. Or else he’d find his food messed up by Willie spitting in it. Now he’d got him into this mess, a climb he was making far worse than it should be. It felt as if this bully was wielding the power of life or death over him. Holding a knife in his hand and chortling with laughter, he looked as if he might cut the rope upon which Danny was hanging then drop him off the mountain.
The voice of the camp leader penetrated into his head, again giving him careful instructions. ‘Concentrate on what you are doing, laddie. Keep your weight on your feet. Don’t reach too high with your hand or you’ll lose your balance. Then move one foot at a time.’
Giving a tug, Danny pulled himself up through the so-called chimney but then came the last part – a nasty overhang. He felt his stomach heave into a dark hole of terror. If this practice pitch of fifty feet was so difficult, how did anyone ever have the nerve to climb a big mountain such as Scafell? And how could he be sure he’d survive? He strived not to assume he would suffer a possible disaster, telling himself that he must prove he had the courage to do whatever was required of him. Searching for a hold without the help of his stomach, let alone the unreliable strength of his limbs, he jammed every toe and finger into the minute cracks he could find and hung on to them, silently praying. He’d be so much happier on level ground, or preferably no higher than the bottom rung of a very wide ladder. But he had no intention of being beaten by this rocky crag. Gritting his teeth, Danny swung up his right foot and stuck it on a wide fissure of rock, rather like a long split in a bread roll. Now he just had to get his bottom round, his left foot up and – aah! His feet jerked and slipped off the ledge. The view of the countryside tilted around and a cold sweat broke out over him. Was this the moment he’d die?
‘Help!’ he yelled.
The jerk of the rope tied to his climbing belt felt almost worse than the slip. Knowing how a person could fall twenty feet in one second, he felt deeply grateful for this safety rope that the camp leader always attached in these practice climbs, in addition to the belay. Fortunately, Danny had fallen less than two feet, his nails managing to find contact with a crack in the rock face. Tearing himself up in a fury of panic, he dived over the top as if the devil himself was on his backside. Once he’d recovered from the initial effects of the shock, unhooked himself from the rope and pulled off his safety helmet, he flung himself at Willie to start belting him.
‘Yer a nasty wiry worm! Stop bloody attacking me the whole damn time.’
Within seconds they were fighting. Willie thumped Danny much harder and more brutally, being fatter, taller, stronger and nastier than him. ‘Do as I flamin’ well tell you,’ he roared.
Growing taller and stronger, Danny felt the need to defend himself more, following years of bullying. It was only when they saw the camp leader reach the top of the climb that they pulled away from each other. Danny gasped for breath; all too aware he’d probably collected yet more bruises, as had happened to him so often in the past.
‘It was just a joke, what I did. I’ll make sure you regret having hammered me,’ Willie snarled as he stalked off, leaving Danny spitting with fury. How could he believe he’d done the wrong thing when this bastard was constantly harassing him? Willie Mullins had made his life a thousand times more difficult and painful throughout this dratted war. How he longed to be rid of him and ached to be back home with his mam, whom he sorely missed, as well as his sisters. According to the camp leader that wasn’t going to happen until the war in the East also ended, the Government having no wish to risk danger for evacuees.
Unfortunately, Willie too lived in Castlefield, both of them having attended the same school even though he was two years older than him, so when that did happen Danny could but hope he’d manage to stay well clear of him, now he too was almost grown up.
Chapter Three (#ulink_41a3881b-dae3-5d08-ae66-5f55cdeb34be)
When Joanne and Megan returned to the boarding house where they happily lived, they found it packed with soldiers. These comprised Polish aircrew, as well as many of their wives and children who had come to visit their husbands, always welcome thanks to these kind landladies. On this occasion everyone was happily engaged in watching a performance of brightly lit puppets before a curtain strung across part of the dining room, the children in particular excitedly laughing and enjoying the show. Joanne guessed the man creating this show would be Tomasz, a dapper young Polish man with fuzzy dark brown hair. He would often sing, play music or perform a mime, acting out a story with no speech but lots of clever movement. He was most gifted and great fun. Soon, he and his Polish colleagues would all be gone, and Joanne could see by the joy in this group how they were all looking forward to returning home. Not something she could expect to happen for herself and her sister.
Striving to block out the fears for their uncertain future, Joanne grabbed an empty tray of plates and carried it briskly to the kitchen. Aunt Annie was busily boiling kettles on the stove to make tea. Aunt Sadie stood at the table, slicing bread to make more sandwiches. This younger sister, in her mid-fifties was a small, round-faced lady with a plump nose, her piercing dark eyes guarded by tiny spectacles, her black hair firmly clipped up. As always, she was tidily dressed in a long dark skirt, a white blouse and a huge apron, her stockinged feet held in a neat pair of strapped flat shoes.
Joanne dashed to help by starting to chop Spam and lay slices onto the bread ‘We’ve had a lovely time today on the promenade and, of course, have enjoyed living here in Blackpool these last few years.’
Giving her a warm smile, Sadie said, ‘I remember the happy day we met you in that centre on Whitegate Drive early in 1942. You were such lovely little girls, if looking rather tired and sad, poor little Megan constantly weeping. How could we resist taking you in?’
‘We greatly appreciated that. Now I can’t get my mind round to leaving here and moving back to Manchester. I would sorely miss this town and you two caring ladies.’
‘Don’t fret, dear. We’ll miss you too when you leave but once that happens you can come and visit us any time you wish. Our work will thankfully calm down soon, although I shall miss spending each afternoon knitting scarves and rugs, soldiers no longer being in need of them, the war now over.’
Quietly piling the sandwiches onto the tray, having little appetite for food herself right now, Joanne gave a tremor of a smile. She was highly appreciative that Aunt Sadie’s efforts to support the troops had been a most important part of this lovely lady’s life, as it was for her sister, Aunt Annie. They were also most supportive and kindly towards herself and Megan, as this conversation highlighted. But she had no wish to reveal the anguish she’d just gone through by losing the GI she adored. ‘My mam always loved knitting too, plus sewing and lacemaking. Not that I’ve seen anything she’s made in years, let alone any sight of her. Who knows if I ever will again.’
‘I’m sure you will, dear.’
Joanne met her sympathetic gaze with speculation in her own. It was then that Megan burst through the kitchen door in a cloud of steam, her cheeks scarlet because of the heat of her surroundings as well as her fury. ‘If that RAF chap won’t keep his hands off tapping my bottom, I’ll land him a smack on his ear.’
Aunt Annie, older and taller with similar coloured hair, eyes and spectacles to her sister, let out a heavy sigh, clearly realizing who she was referring to. ‘He’s probably just a bit drunk on this day of celebration and was only teasing you, lass. Not all men are a problem, although the odd one can sometimes enjoy marlicking about on occasion. Ideally, I should mebbe chuck that fellow out and be in possession of a vacant room come dinnertime. However, he’s a man very much in charge, visiting some of the troops and paid to stay here by the Government so there’s nowt I can do about that.’
‘He’s no right to touch me,’ Megan tartly remarked. ‘I don’t like men at all.’
‘Quite right, love. Go and have a rest up in your room and keep well away from all these drunken chaps. That would be wise. I’ll have a quiet word with that Wing Commander Ramsbotham, silly fool that he is.’
Excusing herself with a spirited smile, Aunt Annie pushed up her sleeves and marched off to the dining room, a fierce look in her eyes as she prepared to do battle with this offender. What a character she was, and very meticulous. She had no intention of waiting hand, foot and finger on other folk’s whims and peccadilloes, appreciating the fruitlessness of such behaviour. Folk in this boarding house had to behave themselves or they were dispatched elsewhere, in spite of these landladies’ care and concern. Joanne knew that this dear lady was of the opinion that the amount the Government paid for the soldiers and other military personnel who occupied rooms here, which didn’t match the amount of money they earned from tourists, at times left them a bit short of cash.
Joanne gave Megan a quick cuddle, aware that she hadn’t found it easy being an evacuee with no mother present to comfort her, and having been constantly moved around because of ill treatment they’d suffered at times. At least they’d been fortunate to happily live here in Blackpool these last three years. She watched with a smile as her sister stamped off upstairs, knowing that she was not required to do any work, being far too young. She’d no doubt happily go and read or draw, as she so loved to do. Joanne didn’t at all mind working for these lovely ladies, really quite enjoying it, but she felt that their lives were in complete turmoil. What on earth would happen to them now?
The next morning, having suffered a sleepless night quietly weeping over her loss, Joanne anxiously worried that Teddy might never write and arrange for her to join him. She felt herself engaged in a world she no longer wished to be a part of. Not that life throughout the war had been at all easy, with bombs falling and sirens screaming and wailing. Now, wiping the tears from her eyes, she got out of bed and found that she’d tossed that new blue dress she’d bought for the special VE Day celebration onto the floor the previous evening. She gazed in dismay at the creased fabric, parts of it torn and marked with brown stains, perhaps because Teddy had pushed her down on the wet sand under the pier. What exactly had he done to her? A part of her shook with fear; not at all clear about that. Could her life be ruined as well as this frock?
‘What’s troubling you, sis? I heard you crying last night. Do tell me what’s wrong,’ Megan whispered, looking deeply distressed.
‘I’ve just damaged my new frock,’ Joanne remarked, not wishing to discuss the truth of her distress. She’d never spoken about her feelings for Teddy, preferring to keep their relationship private.
‘Oh no, what a nuisance and we had such a fun time yesterday.’
How dare she deny that? Panic pulsated through her, making Joanne feel badly in need of Megan’s comfort. Should she tell her more or keep what happened a secret? All possibility of making that decision vanished when Aunt Annie politely opened the door to ask Joanne if she would please start serving breakfast to their guests.
‘Of course,’ she said. After quickly dressing, she tossed the dress aside and dashed off downstairs to take part in her usual morning chores.
Later that afternoon, Annie handed the dress back to her, suitably repaired. ‘Megan told me of your problem. You looked such a pretty girl wearing this frock yesterday, I’ve cleaned and mended it for you, dear.’
‘Oh, thank you, Aunt Annie,’ Joanne said. ‘What a wonderfully kind and helpful lady you are.’ Tears spurted and ran down her cheeks, making her feel desolate and low. She feared that her heart could break having lost the man she loved. He’d told her how pretty she was, making no mention of what he felt for her, something she hadn’t noticed at the time. ‘I do so appreciate your care for us, particularly having lost our mam. Heaven knows whether she’s still alive, let alone any other members of our family. Being unable to find our parents, I do feel in a state of bewilderment, wondering where we could possibly live, were we to return to Manchester.’
Annie put her arms around Joanne, giving her a pat and a hug. ‘Our local billeting officer knows where you are, therefore I’m sure you’ll hear from her soon, lovey.’
How could that happen when their mother had no idea in which town her daughters were now living? Nor had they any idea where she was living either. If they ever did hear from her, Joanne wondered if Megan would be at all interested in going back home? And would she personally find the courage to tell her mam she’d fallen in love with a GI and how she ached to go to America to join him, rather than go home to Manchester? In addition to finding their mam and dad, would she ever find Danny, their brother, whom Joanne believed no longer lived with the farmer who first took him in. Receiving no response from him either when she’d written to say where they’d been moved to, following their departure from that area in Keswick, Joanne wondered whether he’d been sent some place else. What a muddle their lives were in. Where and when would their family ever meet up?
Danny was involved in taking a hike with a small group of friends around Derwentwater, a crystal glass lake. Not a breath of wind stirred in the heat of the day. How he loved this beautiful area of Keswick and the magical panoply of fold upon fold of mountains in a landscape that seemed to stretch into infinity. The ribbon of this dusty track linking the skeins of drystone walls could lure him to venture onward and upward into the unknown, were he free to roam. Far away in the distance were the hills of Scotland and the Solway Firth. Here, as they walked on through a copse of tall trees, he admired the awesome sight of Blencathra, a proud, benevolent mountain.
Many travellers, as well as themselves as youngsters, were urged into climbing these beautiful peaks to celebrate their fitness, including Grisedale Pike, Helvellyn, the highest giant, and the mysterious Castlerigg Stone Circle. The presence of these brooding mountains always enthralled him even when they were loaded with snow, or wet grey clouds. The mountains often appeared sullen but today were filled with a benign merriness of sunny beauty. How happy it made him feel despite often having heard the sound of bombing over by the coast.
The war had started well for him, living and working on that friendly farm close to Blencathra until Willie Mullins had messed things up for him. He now worked part-time for a farmer close to the camp and still enjoyed walking if not climbing, having suffered an attack by Mullins. Thankfully, that selfish lad was too lazy to be interested in joining them today so he was free of yet more pestering. A part of Danny felt he’d like to stay out here in the countryside for ever, while another part of him ached to return to his parents in Manchester.
It was when they returned to camp that he was called to the camp leader’s office, shocked to hear himself accused yet again of stealing fruit and veg from a local farmer. Horrified, he loudly protested. ‘It weren’t me, sir. I never steal nowt. I’m innocent, having happily worked for this farmer for some time. Why would I pinch owt off him and risk losing my part-time job? It were more likely Willie Mullins what stole it. He allus puts the blame on me, as he so likes to do for owt he pinches.’
The camp leader glared at him, sour-faced and disbelieving. ‘What proof do I have of that? I found a box of food close to your bed and Willie confirmed that you’d committed that theft, always complaining you were short of food. That young lad was also marked with bruises, admitting that when he’d challenged you about this crime you’d started a fight.’
‘That’s a lie!’ Danny snapped. ‘He must have hidden it there. I certainly didn’t. We had a fight when he tried to drop me off the cliff we were climbing. He’s the one who eats too much and steals things, not me. I’m not a bloody thief.’
The leader gave a snort of disbelief. ‘I do not approve of bad language or arguments, lad. I appreciate you two do not get on terribly well. No doubt you fight him in order to keep him silent, as you’ve no desire to be charged with this theft. Fortunately, I have no wish to call the police, which would damage our reputation even worse than yours. You must simply apologize to that farmer and politely return this fruit and veg.’
‘I’ll not apologize for summat I didn’t do.’
‘Then you will suffer a suitable punishment,’ he sternly remarked.
To his utter dismay, Danny then found himself locked in the coal cellar below the leader’s office, a stark and dreadful place. Close by the room in which he was confined, he could hear the barking of a bad-tempered bull terrier who lived chained to the wall. In the past Willie would constantly insist that he must be the one to come down here to collect the coal needed for the huts, which Danny had always found pretty scary. That dog would growl and attempt to pounce or bite him, unless he possessed a scrap of food to divert its attention. Now he had nothing to offer and could but pray he’d be kept clear of that dog and be freed soon.
He lay on a cold bed with one blanket for the rest of that day and night, his mind dreaming of his mother, father and sisters. Joanne and Megan had lived quite close to him for a while but then had been moved on, where to or why he’d no idea, never having received a letter from them since he too had been moved. At times he felt very lonely and worried about ever finding them. He did receive the occasional letter from his mother and sometimes a parcel of comics as if he was still a young boy, which he nevertheless quite enjoyed, The Beano and The Dandy being his favourites. There’d not been any word from his father, or any mention of him at all from his mam. How he missed his family.
It was the following morning, when Danny was finally released and provided with a most welcome scrambled egg breakfast, that the camp leader came trotting over to hand him a letter, a smirk of a grin on his face. ‘Good news, laddie. Be aware that once the war in Japan is over, permission will be granted by the Government for you to be taken home to Manchester by train. Willie here, your old classmate, will go too. So make sure you improve your friendship, laddies. Not that I’ll miss either of you when that time comes,’ he said with a chuckle. He patted each of them on the back and walked away to leave them sitting scowling at each other.
This news gave Danny hope he’d be back with his family soon, once this war had finally ended. Or did he wish to stay here in this beautiful countryside? Not right now. He’d completely gone off that idea.
Chapter Four (#ulink_0b9ce4d4-cd9e-52ab-adc5-7328fbd8f466)
In the weeks following, Jubilee House became less packed than it used to be. Many of the civil servants, military personnel and refugees had left, some finding jobs or transport to take them back home thanks to the local authorities. Still not having received any letter from Teddy, Joanne badly regretted not being invited to join him in America. He was so far away she sorely missed him, all hope of a future together rapidly fading. She was no longer convinced that he loved her. Perhaps he just enjoyed having sex with women, including that one hanging on to his elbow, so maybe he’d assumed he could have it with her too. Not at all certain what he’d done to her and whether he’d succeeded in seducing her, being fairly innocent on such matters, Joanne deeply worried that she might have a serious problem as a result. It really didn’t bear thinking about.
Gazing through the breakfast-room window as she cleared the tables, puffs of bright clouds bounced over the sea that shivered with white waves, looking beautiful as always. How it reminded her of the time she’d spent walking on the beach with Teddy, constantly kissed and fondled by him. Oh, and her love for that GI was so strong she still ached for him to write and offer to marry her. That would resolve this possible problem she had and make her future so much happier.
