Until we meet again (A war romance) (#Wattys2015)

part 5 - Matthew and Diana

We arrived in France around 6 or 7 hours later, not that I was counting or anything. My legs ached from sitting for so long, and so did Will's. Tommy was alright, and strolled off the ship, head held high; we just hobbled off behind him.
We walked (yes, more walking!) to this small living area. This was the reserve area we were told, and we would stay here until we were needed on the front line. We were each given beds, and I plonked my rifle and bags down on the floor, before collapsing onto the bed, exhausted! Who knew that doing nothing for 6 hours would make you si tired! Despite my fatigue, I just couldn't get to sleep. I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling - then a moan broke the calm silence. I sat up with a start. Across the room from me was a young man, maybe 17, sitting on his bed, and shaking. I slid out of bed, despite my muscles screaming at me, and wondered over to him. He stared ahead, like I wasn't even there.
"Hey, " I said gently, and his head snapped round to me, eyes wide.
"Who are you?" he asked, still shaking.
"I'm Matthew, what's your name?"
"I..." he paused, concentration showing on his face, "I don't know."
I stared at him. This guy was a nut!
" I just remember the guns, and the death, and the explosions..." he was shaking more now, his voice getting louder and louder. "hey, hey, it's alright," I tried, but he eventually just broke down, sobbing. There was nothing I could do. I knew one thing: the front line didn't seem like such an adventure anymore...

-Diana-

The town seemed strangely empty. Like someone had taken our lives and ripped away a part of ourselves as easily as ripping paper. My heart ached, but then, so were everyone else’s. I was at home now, and  was helping Mother with dinner. Parsnip soup, my favourite! A somewhat feeble attempt to cheer me up despite the situation, but there you go. Ever since the fight, there had been some tension between Mother and I. We haven’t had particularly long conversations since then, and we only ever saw each other at mealtimes! I just didn’t want to apologise first; I was still angry at her, but I was perfectly happy to apologise once she had herself. I did, however, feel bad about using Dad as a weapon in the argument; I knew it had been unfair. I missed him as much as Mother did, though I didn’t show it. Mother however would sometimes sit on her bed, and cry herself to sleep. I could hear her through the walls, and wished to comfort her, but I just- didn’t know how. I think Mum blamed herself for how he died. They had been walking together, then he had simply keeled over. The doctor later confirmed that he had died of a heart attack, probably due to how much beer he drunk every Saturday down the pub. He had told Mother that he couldn’t have been saved, but Mother decided to blame herself. Ever since, she had been distant at times, but now, she seemed like she was lost in a grey fog; she just couldn’t be bothered to find her way out. Out of pure stubbornness, I decided not to apologise until she had. I think I got my stubbornness from my father…

Later, we sat in stony silence, while we ate our soup. I tried to catch Mother’s eye, but she stared down, pretending that her spoon was more interesting. I sighed,

“Say something,”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re sorry!”

“Well, I’m not, so there,” she said dully, “You however should be.”

I sighed, “I’m sick of you pretending like you’ve done nothing wrong!”

“I haven’t. Eat your soup; it’ll get cold,”

“Why do you have to criticize everything I do? The people I love? Why do I always have to feel like I’m never good enough?”

She finally looked up. “Di, you’ve always been good enough, the same however cannot be said for that young man that you insist on associating yourself with…”

“You still believe that, even after he’s gone off to fight for his country?”

“Yes,”

“Why?!”

“Because you’re my daughter, no one will ever be good enough for you in my opinion!”

She stood up suddenly.

“Sit down.” I said quietly. She did.

“Just let me be happy.” I whispered sadly, “With Matthew.”

“If he comes back that is,” Mother mumbled.

 I don’t really know what happened next. One moment, we were sitting there, the next, I was standing, and Mother was looking at me in shock, her face red from my slap. I looked at my hand in horror before running from the room.