Always In My Heart Page 9

  Prue felt again that cloying sense of claustrophobia, the very reason she’d stopped living in the Hall and moved into the cottage, although at the time she’d been escaping from her father’s fury over her elopement. Now she didn’t react with a burst of anger, only a sigh of resignation. ‘I am not in the least ashamed, and he is not our enemy. Dino has lived in England for most of his life, and doesn’t even speak much Italian.’

  ‘He certainly is according to the government, so you do need to take care. Italy signed a pact to ally itself with Hitler.’

  ‘And has now surrendered to the Allies. But what has any of that to do with Dino? Nor is it anything to do with you whom I decide to marry. It’s my life,’ she insisted. ‘I’m telling you this now, Hugh, as I thought it would be selfish of us to marry without even offering you an invitation.’

  ‘Fraternisation with enemy aliens is illegal. Can’t you see that I’m trying to protect you, Prue? Do listen to what I’m saying.’

  Facing her brother with her usual stubborn defiance, she shook her head. ‘It will happen the moment Dino is free, which could be sooner than you think, as he applied for repatriation some time ago.’

  ‘I could always have the fellow sent back to that camp in the Isle of Man.’

  The condemnation written in his face chilled her. ‘That would not work. A large number of internees have already been repatriated, particularly those like Dino who are not pro-Nazi. Hundreds are now free, and he will be too soon. We’ve written again to the Commander in charge of the camps, making that request. But if you throw him out, then I’ll go with him, just as Brenda did with dear Jack when our father packed him off to France. I’d be quite happy to live somewhere close to Dino on the island. May I also suggest it would be wiser for you not to follow in our father’s footsteps. You are my dear brother, so why not show some concern about my happiness?’

  ‘That is exactly what I am doing. Marriage is never easy, as you know from that of our parents, let alone the one that you stupidly rushed into. Had the poor chap not lost his life in the war, you would have regretted it for the rest of your life. So how do you know this one will work any better? It could be a total disaster.’

  The bitterness in his tone cut right to the heart of her. ‘So you don’t care about anyone’s feelings but your own? No doubt you wish me to marry money, as did Papa. I’m sure Melissa would agree with you there, although she might be deeply disappointed if she was not invited to my wedding. She does love any excuse to buy herself a new outfit and show herself off. Isn’t glamour and money all she cares about too?’ Prue caustically commented.

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense. Neither Melissa nor I would have any wish to attend such a wedding. This man is not for you.’

  A telling silence followed these harsh words, one which went on far too long until Prue felt calm enough to break it. Reaching out, she stroked his hand as his fingers angrily drummed upon the desk. ‘I can understand that losing your would-be bride only weeks away from your own wedding can’t be easy, but wouldn’t you be prepared to give me away?’

  ‘Never in a million years. Now get back to work and stop talking nonsense.’

  She was all too aware that some of the points Hugh was making were perhaps valid, certainly with regard to her first, disastrous marriage. But this one would be entirely different, and Prue felt desperate to put an end to this conversation before she said something she might live to regret. Fighting back tears, she did as she was bid and returned to the greenhouse, leaving him to get on with his paperwork.

  Twelve

  1945

  Brenda worked hard in the weeks and months following, concentrating fully upon her job at the rubber factory, and meeting up regularly with her old school friend, Cathie, for a coffee or snack at Campfield Market. There was still an ongoing barrage of V-1 flying bombs, known as doodlebugs, and air-raid sirens frequently heard, but the war was at last coming to an end. Ever since D-Day many German armies had surrendered; Rommel had committed suicide; and France had recaptured many of her territories. Peace was expected to be declared any time soon.

  Even the blackout had eased a little in towns and cities. On Christmas Eve Brenda visited the local church, which was allowed to set lighted candles next to its stained-glass windows. She then spent Christmas Day alone in her flat, a sad experience. Cathie had invited her to join her family. But as her friend’s sister was pregnant, and had lost her beloved husband who’d gone down with his ship in August when it had been sunk by a U-boat, Brenda really did not feel she could cope with such trauma right now.

  Always at the back of her mind lay her anxiety over her son. Where was her darling Tommy? She could still hear the sound of him crying whenever he was hungry, feel his chubby little body in her arms and smell the baby soap on his soft skin. What would he be like now that he was so much older? How she wished she knew and could hold him again. Brenda never mentioned him to Cathie, as she still found it far too painful to speak of her loss.

  It had taken the best part of a year to find the necessary help and transport to escape through France and Spain, and endure a long and arduous sea voyage in order to return to England. Even longer to search for little Tommy. In the end she’d had to abandon that in the hope he’d already been returned home, which sadly was not the case. Oh, and she missed her beloved husband too.

  What a mess her life was in. Hugh might blame her for what happened to Jack, but had his father not thrown them both out simply because they fell in love, he could still be alive. Brenda had few details of the projects Jack had been involved in with the Resistance, but he was a brave and honourable man who did much for the cause. She was so proud of him, which helped her to cope with her grief. She must be brave too, and keep on searching for their son.

  Spring slowly dawned and Brenda would frequently choose to walk out along the canal banks for a breath of fresh air to enjoy the sight of primroses and snowdrops, and later the heady scent of garlic flowers and bluebells. She loved watching the boats and barges going about their business. The vast waterways network was such an important part of Manchester, carrying goods all over the country. But Brenda missed the dramatic glory of the Pennines and vowed to return to see Prue sometime soon, as she missed her too.

  In April, Adolf Hitler took his own life instead of being prepared to face surrender. Hopes escalated that this would be the beginning of the end, everyone listening to the wireless with growing impatience for the news they’d been awaiting so long. But the phoney peace seemed to linger on almost as long as the phoney war had done years before.

  Gritting her teeth with resigned patience, Brenda kept her mind focused on what really mattered to her. Once a week she would visit the solicitors, Fairhurst and Emmerson, and speak to the secretary. The young woman would shake her head, barely lifting her gaze from her typewriter, and calmly inform her that there was no news.

  Would they ever find Adèle’s address?

  ‘It’s taking so long. Is there nothing more you can do?’ Brenda begged, all too aware that once they did, she might then have to return to France to fetch Tommy home, although it probably wouldn’t be safe to do so until this war was finally over.

  ‘We are doing our best,’ the young woman sternly remarked. ‘There’s really no need for you to keep calling. We’ll be in touch if we hear anything.’

  ‘If?’

  ‘I mean when,’ the secretary said, her cheeks flushing a little in apparent embarrassment.

  ‘I appreciate that even though you are in touch with the authorities in Paris regarding my paperwork, a response might well not happen until this war does at last end. But have you also contacted the local authorities in Orleans, Tours or Angers? I really have no idea in which part of the Loire Valley Adèle resides, but the authorities there may know something.’

  ‘As I say, Miss Stuart, we will keep you informed.’

  ‘Mrs Stuart,’ Brenda retorted. As she left, feeling grim with disappointment, she made a private vow to send out more enquir
ies of her own. Many evacuee children had lost track of their parents too. How would those poor little souls survive if their mum and dad had been killed, or had deserted them? Rumour had it that more than a million Jewish children were now dead. Could darling Tommy have suffered a similar fate? It really didn’t bear thinking about.

  *

  Still in the midst of dealing with his father’s probate, Hugh was deeply curious about how much money Jack might have left the young woman claiming to be his widow. She obviously imagined it to be a tidy sum, otherwise why would she make up such nonsense? Not for a moment did he imagine his brother would marry without telling him, let alone leave her a penny from the estate just because he’d enjoyed sleeping with her. Unless they truly were man and wife, of which there was no proof. As the secretary showed him into the solicitor’s office, Hugh wondered if he might be able to persuade Fairhurst to show him his brother’s will. Surely he had a right to see it? In the meantime, there were more important issues that needed addressing. Taking a seat, he exchanged a few polite words about the weather, then clearing his throat, admitted a grim truth.

  ‘The fact is, Fairhurst, I don’t have the necessary funds to pay this exorbitantly high death duty. Unless you can think of some other solution, I am going to have to sell a sizeable chunk of land.’

  A frown creased the lawyer’s bushy eyebrows. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Stuart. I thought the farm was doing better.’

  ‘Profits have gone up, although these are still hard times, and we’ve had to invest in a tractor and other new equipment. We’re also very dependent upon the government for decisions on prices, and can but hope they won’t decide to drop them, as they are still in need of an increase in food production. Nor do I feel able to raise the level of rents, even though the number of tenants has reduced over the years. This huge sum of money demanded upon the death of my father could destroy us. I also have a problem with the biscuit factory, which is not doing at all well.’

  The solicitor gave a grunt of a cough. ‘Have you considered finding yourself a rich heiress to marry?’

  Hugh gave a sardonic little laugh. ‘Absolutely not. Those days are long gone. These bloody taxes, based on the value of the property and all our possessions have inflated beyond belief, not taking reality at all into account.’

  ‘Then I agree you have no choice but to find a tenant willing to buy his piece of land. It will, of course, need to be at a favourable price, particularly if his family have occupied it for some considerable time.’

  Hugh nodded. ‘I do appreciate that and have no intention of over-charging anyone, but it isn’t going to be easy to find a resolution.’ Getting to his feet, he gave a sigh. ‘I merely wished to warn you in the hope you can delay this demand for payment. I’ll let you know when a sale takes place.’

  ‘I will do my best,’ Mr Fairhurst assured him, rifling through papers on his desk. ‘You do realise that if we find the necessary papers for your brother’s alleged widow, she will be granted a say on this decision, and even on the business?’

  Hugh stared at the solicitor in stunned disbelief. ‘Are you telling me that Jack has left this madam shares in the company?’

  The solicitor stroked his pointed chin. ‘He did indeed. He made a will at the British Embassy when war broke out, fairly basic, but it served his purpose. Of course, the Embassy was closed down once the Nazis occupied France. However, he wisely sent a copy to me.’

  ‘Does that prove they really were married?’

  ‘Not necessarily. Were it ever to come to court, she would need to prove her identity and produce a copy of her marriage certificate. The girl could well be speaking the truth, but we need evidence of that fact.’

  ‘Please let me know, should you ever find it,’ Hugh sternly remarked.

  ‘My young lady secretary already has instructions to do that.’

  ‘Then good day to you, Fairhurst.’

  ‘Good day, and good luck, sir.’

  *

  It was on Monday, 7 May, around 7.30 in the evening, as Brenda was listening to a piano recital on the radio that the BBC interrupted the programme to make a public declaration issued by the Ministry of Information. It stated that the following day was to be treated as Victory-in-Europe Day and would be regarded as a holiday. An official announcement would be broadcast by the Prime Minister at three o’clock. The civil servant went on to say: ‘His Majesty the King will broadcast to the people of the British Empire and Commonwealth tomorrow, Tuesday, at 9 p.m.’

  Brenda leapt out of her chair to run out into the street, where she met dozens of her neighbours also jumping about with joy and excitement.

  ‘The war is over at last! Germany has surrendered and the Third Reich is defeated!’ yelled one old man, and everyone cheered.

  The next day, flags and bunting sprang up everywhere like blossom in spring. There were posters of King George VI and Winston Churchill, reminding Brenda of how in France she’d seen so many put up to insult the British. What a relief it was to see these declaring victory. They held a street party, and celebrated by eating all the precious food housewives had been secretly stowing away for exactly this purpose. Then the women picked up their skirts and danced, singing ‘I’m Looking Over a Four-Leaf Clover’ and ‘There’s a Long, Long Trail A-Winding’. All popular songs from the First World War, plus many more recent ones including ‘We’ll Meet Again’, finishing with a conga along John Dalton Street through to Albert Square and down Deansgate. What a joy it was.

  The whole of Manchester, as well as London and every other city, rang with the sound of music and laughter, pausing only to listen to the King’s speech at 9 p.m. Bonfires blazed, fireworks exploded and the lights were on again. Peace was with them at last.

  Yet beneath all this excitement, the mood was more sombre as people recalled their losses, some nursing their injuries with tears in their eyes. And as Brenda queued up for a loaf of bread the following morning, not even certain there would be one available, nothing seemed to have changed at all. The war might be over but the pain she was suffering never would be. But whatever she might have to face, she must learn to live with it.

  *

  Peace having been declared, Prue and Dino decided to join the local celebrations in Trowbridge village. They’d carefully kept their relationship secret until now, confining their meetings to a short stroll in the quiet countryside where no one could see them, holding hands and kissing as they fell in love. But now they felt everything had changed.

  ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ Dino asked.

  ‘Why would it not be? I’ve told Hugh about our plans to marry, and as the war is at last over, you should be free soon.’

  She was horrified to find old friends and neighbours shunning her as they walked together down the village street. They were clearly shocked and disapproving to see her accompanied by a prisoner of war, even though the pair of them were careful not to touch each other or hold hands. Prue made a point not to so much as glance or smile at him, dutifully acting as his employer, not his sweetheart. But they must have displayed some evidence of their relationship, as the reaction to their presence together was quite chilling.

  ‘Isn’t an English lad good enough for thee?’ yelled one woman.

  Another ran over and tossed a bowl of washing-up water over her, soaking her to the skin. ‘Tha needs to clean theeself,’ she said, and spat in Prue’s face.

  ‘How dare you fraternise with the enemy when our dads, husbands and sons have been killed by the Germans?’ yelled one young mother as she rocked her child in her arms.

  ‘He’s Italian, not German.’

  ‘Makes no difference. They let them buggers kill any of our lads they could find, once they’d surrendered to the bloody Nazis.’

  The day proved to be a dreadful experience, not a celebration at all. The war was over but fraternising with PoWs was still forbidden.

  But in her heart Prue refused to allow anyone to spoil her happiness. Surely this nonsensical
rule would come to an end soon. As they walked slowly home along the riverbank, this time arm in arm, she smiled up into his beloved eyes. ‘Listen to the rush of that little waterfall. Isn’t it wonderful? Come on, I’m wet through anyway,’ she said, pulling off her shoes. Like children in a magical world, they paddled in their bare feet through the fast-flowing waters, loving the tingling spray of icy water on their faces.

  Finally tired from their exertions, they climbed out to sit beneath the wide, swaying branches of a sweet chestnut tree.

  ‘I used to sit here as a child to listen to the birds,’ she told him. ‘Sometimes I would tell them my problems while I gazed over the majesty of these wonderful hills. I love this place, but now things are all going wrong. Should we leave and go and live somewhere else?’

  He shook his head. ‘You’d miss it terribly.’

  ‘So true. I enjoyed growing up here in these beautiful hills, but my life now is with you.’

  ‘And soon we will be married,’ he murmured, pulling her into his arms to kiss her.

  How she adored being locked in his embrace, touching, tasting and kissing him. Her pulse beat wildly as he lay her down on the sweet green grass to nestle her between his thighs. Was this the moment she’d always longed for? He was so handsome, and with a lively sense of fun and adventure. What did it matter what other people said about him? He was her strength and she loved him. He was not an enemy at all.

  ‘Why would we wait another day?’ she whispered as she scented the intoxicating maleness of him. ‘You are the love of my life.’

  Thirteen

  Days later Prue was surprised to find Dino packing his rucksack early in the afternoon. ‘You’re not leaving already? Why is that truck parked in the lane? Your transport doesn’t normally arrive until six o’clock.’

  ‘I’m being turfed out.’

  ‘Why would anyone do that?’ she asked, puzzled. ‘Your help is greatly needed on this farm. You aren’t saying you’ve fallen out with my brother, are you?’