Walking Back to Happiness

‘He’s writing to his mother and father,’ Hannah told Tilly. ‘They’ll believe him.’

‘Will you go to them?’

‘No. I’ll wait until they send for me. I don’t know how long letters take these days.’

Mike’s letter did take time to reach his parents. It took him a while to even find time to write it for the whole camp was in an uproar. He’d never seen so many people concentrated in one relatively small area, nor so many tanks, jeeps, army trucks, cars and motorcycles littering the roads.

The whole area was a no-go area for civilians and those in the small farms and villages were trapped there too. Orders were given by one officer, only to be quickly rescinded by another. It was mayhem. Everyone was in a state of flux and rumours abounded.

There was little time for letter writing and certainly not for writing the type of letter he had to write to his parents. They had to help Hannah and to hell with the neighbours. His mind was constantly filled with Hannah and the child – his child – and worry about her filled his mind through the day and invaded his sleep at night.

The letter did arrive at Colm and Bridie’s home eventually towards the end of May. Bridie and Colm were shocked. They’d thought Hannah such a respectable girl for such a thing to happen. They’d got to know her so well, especially when Mike hadn’t been so well. ‘Mind,’ Colm said, trying to be fair. ‘Our Mike must have had a hand in it.’

‘Aye,’ Bridie agreed. ‘But he’s a man. Everyone knows that it’s the girl’s place to keep feelings in check.’

‘Aye,’ Colm agreed with emotion, remembering his own frustrated courtship days. ‘But still we’ll have to help the girl. It’s what Mike wants and after all, the child she’s carrying is our grandchild.’

Bridie agreed with her husband, but with reservations. She had a horror of the girl coming here with her belly sticking out and the neighbours knowing that there wasn’t even an understanding between her and their son – not that they were aware of, anyway. It would somehow besmirch their son to allow it. And yet Mike had asked them to take the girl in so they had no choice. The damage was done now.

‘Shall I go and see her?’ Bridie said. ‘Or write? I don’t know which would be best.’

But in the end she did neither, for in the early hours of 6th June, Mike was housed in a troopcarrier on the choppy waters of the Channel heading for Normandy. The short summer night was fully over; the sky was grey and the light dusky. It was cold too, the wind damp and chilly and the men shivered.

Mike was as frightened and nervous as the next, his stomach turning over at what lay ahead, but above everything else he worried about Hannah and how she was coping and hoped she was now safe with his parents. When he was out of this damned carrier and set up in camp somewhere, he’d write to Hannah, stressing his love and concern for her and their baby. Oh God, he wished he was there with her, supporting her.

‘All right?’ said Luke’s voice low in his ear.

‘Not bad.’

‘Still worrying about your bird?’

‘Wouldn’t you?’

‘I’m the love them and leave them variety, me,’ Luke said. ‘Though I have to say your Hannah’s a canny lass. Don’t worry, we’ll soon knock this lot into touch. I’m sure your folks will do the decent thing and take care of Hannah till she has the kid. You can still get married if you’re determined on it, just be a bit later, that’s all, and I’ll still stand you the meal I promised you.’

‘Thanks, Luke,’ Mike said warmly. ‘I’m really glad we’ve been in this together from the beginning.’

‘And we’ll stay together, mate, and one day soon we’ll be drinking a pint back in dear old Blighty, you’ll see,’ Luke said and Mike grasped his extended hand and shook it. ‘It’s a deal,’ he replied.

‘Stand ready!’ came the order from a young and nervous corporal and Mike looked about him. Some of the faces were apprehensive, some plain scared, and some of the raw recruits, who didn’t yet know what it was about, were excited. Christ!

The light had brightened a little, the dawn hidden by the clouds a pearly grey as the carrier got near and nearer to the sandy shore and the men stood tense and ready.

Above them, they could see and hear the German fighter planes. The constant tattoo from their automatic guns beat against their heads and was mixed with the shouts and screams as they found their mark. Mike saw soldiers wading forward suddenly jerk and then lie still, face down in the scummy sea. God, it was carnage! Another bloody Dunkirk. He was gutwrenchingly scared and he saw from the look on Luke’s face that he felt the same.

And then the carrier stuck in the sand, the sides lowered and the men were out. Waist-deep in freezing water, their rifles held above their heads, they tried to hurry for the beaches and dodge the planes trying to prevent them.

Soldiers ahead of them on the beaches had already set up anti-aircraft guns. The noise was tremendous, the roar of planes, the whine of bullets being answered by the rat-tat-tat of anti-aircraft fire, the shouts and the cries and screams of the men masking the noise of the approaching bombers.

Mike staggered to the shore, which he saw was littered with bodies. He exchanged a glance with Luke who was beside him, but before he was able to speak, a bomb blew Mike Murphy to kingdom come and blasted his friend into a hole beside him.

When Bridie Murphy went into the hall and found her husband lying still on the floor with the opened telegram in his hand, her own heart nearly stopped beating. She prised the telegram from her husband’s fingers and on reading it, knew that she’d lost her husband as well as her son. The bad heart the doctor had warned him about had finally given up.

She phoned her older sister, Christine, from the telephone box down the road, before she rang the doctor, knowing that Colm was way past a doctor’s help and her sister would know what to do.

Christine, unmarried and older than Bridie by five years, did know. It was a good job she was there to arrange a funeral for after the initial shock, Bridie had been so overwhelmed with grief she’d been under sedation ever since, unable to give any thought or concern to Hannah and her plight.

Christine was determined, despite Bridie’s condition, that the old man at least would have the dignity of being laid to rest in a proper grave and with a full Requiem Mass. Mike’s remains were probably left on the beach, like many more.

She was worried though about her sister. She had totally gone to pieces and she knew she couldn’t be left alone and decided to take her back to Wiltshire to live with her. She could decide what to do about the house later. Houses would, she guessed, be at a premium after the war and she wouldn’t advise her to sell it yet awhile. But she could let it out. She didn’t have to concern herself about the details of it. She’d instruct her solicitor to find a reputable agent as soon as possible. Unoccupied houses ran quickly to rack and ruin and anyway, with so many being bombed out of their homes, empty houses were in danger of being invaded by squatters.

She came upon Mike’s letter on the mantelpiece as she began packing some of her sister’s things and read it dispassionately.

Mike wrote that this girl, Hannah Delaney, was carrying his child. How did he know that? It could have been anyone’s bastard she was carrying, but she’d picked him to carry the can for it. Christine had heard there were plenty of girls doing that these days.

There’d obviously been no talk of the engagement, or a wedding before the girl became pregnant, because Bridie would have written to tell her. Well, Mike was no longer able to defend himself and her sister she knew was in no fit state to look after this girl, whoever she was. She was in no state to look after anyone or anything, and she screwed up the letter into a ball and threw it into the fire.

‘God, Hannah, when would he have time to write?’ Tilly said sternly to her tearful friend when there had been no letters for over a week.

By then the whole country knew that Operation Overlord, or D-Day, had begun on 6th June 1944 and was deemed a success. ‘They’re advancing in enemy-held territory,’ Tilly went on. ‘He can hardly say, “Hold on a minute,” and get the whole company to stop while he writes a note to you. Even if he managed to write, where the hell would he post it? It’s not like at the camp where there’s a handy military pillar box nearby.’

Hannah knew all Tilly said was true and she tried to make herself believe that any day there would be a letter, maybe a clutch of them, and she’d know he was safe. She wondered if he’d ever even had time to write to his parents. She’d expected to hear from them by now too. Something would have to be decided and soon about her pregnancy, but worry about Mike seemed to loom over everything.

There had been an absence of letters for almost three weeks when Hannah was summoned to the supervisor Miss Henderson’s office. She’d been expecting it for some time for she was five months pregnant and had had to let out her work and leisure clothes to their fullest extent and that morning she’d seen the supervisor’s eyes on her as she served breakfasts.

The supervisor looked at her over the top of the glasses people said she just wore for effect. Hannah had had little dealings with her since the day she’d been interviewed for the job. She hadn’t liked her manner then and she didn’t like it any better now.

Miss Henderson was thin, not just slim, stick thin, and she wore suits with fitted jackets to emphasise her shape. Everything about her was thin; her long face, her nose, her lips, even her voice had a thin snap to it.

Beside her, Hannah felt big and ungainly. But she raised her head when Miss Henderson said disdainfully, ‘You’ve been putting on weight lately, Miss Delaney?’

‘Yes, Miss Henderson.’

‘Are you expecting a child?’

There was no point denying it. ‘Yes, Miss Henderson.’

‘And how long, pray, did you intend to keep this information to yourself?’

‘I don’t know, Miss Henderson.’

‘You don’t know, I see. Who is the father of the child?’

Hannah thought of telling Miss Henderson to mind her own business. She shrugged, what did it matter now? ‘A soldier, Miss Henderson. Name of Mike … Michael Murphy.’

‘Married?’ Miss Henderson snapped in a voice full of scorn.

Hannah was shocked. ‘No, Miss Henderson.’