won’t you?’
‘I won’t have much else to do.’
‘And if there’s a raid, go to your mum’s.’
‘Jim, I told you, don’t worry.’
He held her hand. ‘After I’ve left, go back to bed.’
‘How can I sleep without you?’
‘Don’t make me feel bad.’
Pearl traced her thumb over his skin. All the blond hairs sprang up under her touch. How long would she have to wait before she could do this again?
He pushed back the chair. ‘I’ve got to go.’
‘Please don’t, Jim,’ she begged for the last time. ‘It’s not too late to change your mind.’
‘It is, love. I’ve signed on the dotted line.’
‘We could say you were ill.’
‘Pearly-girl, you ain’t half making this difficult.’
‘Why should I make it easy? They’re taking you away from me and I don’t even know when I’ll see you again.’
He pulled her into his embrace. ‘Stubborn as a mule and all mine.’
He kissed her long and hard whilst her tears ran down between their mouths and she could taste the salt and longing in them. The pain was like a knife in her ribs.
He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. Then, in the early light, he was out of the door and gone.
From the front window she watched him join Blackie. Step for step, almost as if they were marching, they strode down the road. He didn’t even look back. She knew he didn’t want to see her crying.
Pearl went to work each day, came home again and went to bed each night. She felt like a sleepwalker. She couldn’t eat – food tasted like rubber. She tortured herself with fears, sunk into self-pity. One minute she was angry, the next afraid. And he wasn’t even at war yet.
The bed felt empty without him. For the first two nights she hardly slept. For the third and fourth she managed a few hours. On the fifth night she slept on the couch. In the cold and gloom of the early morning, she felt a slow resignation. She’d fought all she could. Now she had to accept, like millions of other women, that her husband was gone. It wasn’t as though he’d left for ever. It wasn’t as if he was sick and wouldn’t get well. He was only doing his training.
That night, there were no fire-watching duties and she made up a fire. It fizzled once or twice, but finally caught. Suddenly she was hungry. Opening a tin of Spam she ate it, cross-legged by the warmth. As it was Friday she brought in the tub from the landing outside and boiled three saucepans of water. It was shallow but hot. She even washed her hair afterwards.
The following morning, the first Saturday of December, she went to work with make-up. A week had passed since Jim had gone and she had survived.
At work, Moira relayed the news: Japan had refused Roosevelt’s olive branch; the Nazis shot people in Paris as a reprisal for resistance; the temperature in Russia was twenty-seven degrees below freezing.
‘We ain’t doing too bad here, then, are we?’ Pearl said when Moira finally took a breath.
‘Oh, you’re back in the land of the living, are you?’ Moira commented. ‘I was beginning to think you’d lost your voice as well as your husband.’
Pearl managed to smile. ‘At least I have got a husband, Moira, and he ain’t lost. I’m proud to say he’s a soldier and fighting for his country.’
Em nodded. ‘He’s very brave to have gone when he was in a reserved job.’
‘Jim is a man of action,’ Pearl agreed. It was a new feeling to be the wife of a soldier. She was proud in a way she hadn’t been before.
Em sneezed and blew her nose. ‘Think I’ve got a cold.’
‘You want to watch it,’ Moira warned. ‘This weather could bring on the flu. You don’t want to be bad for Christmas.’
Em looked downcast. ‘I don’t want me dad to catch it. There’s lots of germs about.’
Pearl wanted to know if Em’s romance with Colin was still on. But she didn’t want to ask in front of Moira.
When Mr Hedley came in at twelve, he enquired after Jim.
‘I haven’t heard yet, Mr
‘I won’t have much else to do.’
‘And if there’s a raid, go to your mum’s.’
‘Jim, I told you, don’t worry.’
He held her hand. ‘After I’ve left, go back to bed.’
‘How can I sleep without you?’
‘Don’t make me feel bad.’
Pearl traced her thumb over his skin. All the blond hairs sprang up under her touch. How long would she have to wait before she could do this again?
He pushed back the chair. ‘I’ve got to go.’
‘Please don’t, Jim,’ she begged for the last time. ‘It’s not too late to change your mind.’
‘It is, love. I’ve signed on the dotted line.’
‘We could say you were ill.’
‘Pearly-girl, you ain’t half making this difficult.’
‘Why should I make it easy? They’re taking you away from me and I don’t even know when I’ll see you again.’
He pulled her into his embrace. ‘Stubborn as a mule and all mine.’
He kissed her long and hard whilst her tears ran down between their mouths and she could taste the salt and longing in them. The pain was like a knife in her ribs.
He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. Then, in the early light, he was out of the door and gone.
From the front window she watched him join Blackie. Step for step, almost as if they were marching, they strode down the road. He didn’t even look back. She knew he didn’t want to see her crying.
Pearl went to work each day, came home again and went to bed each night. She felt like a sleepwalker. She couldn’t eat – food tasted like rubber. She tortured herself with fears, sunk into self-pity. One minute she was angry, the next afraid. And he wasn’t even at war yet.
The bed felt empty without him. For the first two nights she hardly slept. For the third and fourth she managed a few hours. On the fifth night she slept on the couch. In the cold and gloom of the early morning, she felt a slow resignation. She’d fought all she could. Now she had to accept, like millions of other women, that her husband was gone. It wasn’t as though he’d left for ever. It wasn’t as if he was sick and wouldn’t get well. He was only doing his training.
That night, there were no fire-watching duties and she made up a fire. It fizzled once or twice, but finally caught. Suddenly she was hungry. Opening a tin of Spam she ate it, cross-legged by the warmth. As it was Friday she brought in the tub from the landing outside and boiled three saucepans of water. It was shallow but hot. She even washed her hair afterwards.
The following morning, the first Saturday of December, she went to work with make-up. A week had passed since Jim had gone and she had survived.
At work, Moira relayed the news: Japan had refused Roosevelt’s olive branch; the Nazis shot people in Paris as a reprisal for resistance; the temperature in Russia was twenty-seven degrees below freezing.
‘We ain’t doing too bad here, then, are we?’ Pearl said when Moira finally took a breath.
‘Oh, you’re back in the land of the living, are you?’ Moira commented. ‘I was beginning to think you’d lost your voice as well as your husband.’
Pearl managed to smile. ‘At least I have got a husband, Moira, and he ain’t lost. I’m proud to say he’s a soldier and fighting for his country.’
Em nodded. ‘He’s very brave to have gone when he was in a reserved job.’
‘Jim is a man of action,’ Pearl agreed. It was a new feeling to be the wife of a soldier. She was proud in a way she hadn’t been before.
Em sneezed and blew her nose. ‘Think I’ve got a cold.’
‘You want to watch it,’ Moira warned. ‘This weather could bring on the flu. You don’t want to be bad for Christmas.’
Em looked downcast. ‘I don’t want me dad to catch it. There’s lots of germs about.’
Pearl wanted to know if Em’s romance with Colin was still on. But she didn’t want to ask in front of Moira.
When Mr Hedley came in at twelve, he enquired after Jim.
‘I haven’t heard yet, Mr
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