Evie cycled cautiously along Duck Lane, concentrating hard on avoiding the growing number of potholes. As she worked for the council, she had tried on numerous occasions to get something done about the state of the road but the war had put a halt to all highway expenditure unless it had a military benefit.
Nearing Hope Cottage, her attention was caught by the sound of an aircraft somewhere overhead. She stopped pedalling and scanned the skyline. Large white clouds billowed up into a blue sky, making it difficult to identify the plane. Suddenly the noise intensified and the plane swooped low from behind the house, skimming the roof of Hope Cottage and nearly causing Evie to tumble from her bike.
She watched the small plane, clearly a fighter of some sort, soar up into the sky and disappear behind a towering cloud. Moments later it reappeared and seemed to be preparing to dive bomb the cottage. Evie assumed it must be a German attack - possibly the beginning of the feared invasion. She threw herself from the bike, taking refuge in a wet ditch by the side of the road. Muddy water rose up her stockings as the plane dived low and then roared above her head. She waited for the explosion but none came. When she looked again, the plane appeared to roll in the sky and then disappear to the west.
She crawled out of the ditch, squirming as the cold muddy water ran down her legs. She picked up the bike and walked with it the last hundred yards to the cottage. Leaning the bike against a tree in the front garden, she made her way into the parlour where Jack was sitting in his wheelchair.
“Did you see that bloody stupid pilot, Uncle Jack? He dive bombed our house and made me jump into a ditch. I thought he was going to bomb us. Just my luck the ditch was full of water. Look at me now. Can we write to somebody and complain? He should be court marshalled.”
“I think that might have been Peter,” Jack replied sheepishly.
“Peter? Who’s bloody Peter?
“Peter’s my nephew.”
“Your nephew? I didn’t know you had a nephew. In fact, I didn’t think you had any relatives.”
Evie was removing her wet stockings as she spoke, revealing two shapely and athletic legs.
“Peter is my brother’s son,” continued Jack, edging his wheelchair away from the muddy spray that Evie was now shaking from the stockings.
“I thought your brother was dead – killed in the war.”
“He was. But before he signed up he’d got a local girl into trouble. I’m sure it was his intention to marry her after the war but, of course, he never came back.”
“So what happened to the baby?”
“The girl’s parents put him up for adoption. There was nothing my parents could do. They couldn’t look after a baby at their age.”
“So how did you make contact again - with Peter - after so many years?”
“A letter - out of the blue. Seems Peter had been adopted by an older couple in Birmingham. He’d been brought up well but then they’d died. Peter decided that he wanted to find his real family. He did a bit of research, tracked me down and we started writing. A week ago he told me he’d been posted to that new aerodrome at Coltishall. He’s in the RAF – a pilot. Seems he had to deliver a new Hurricane and said he’d fly over the house as he passed. Didn’t say anything about dive bombing.”
The arrival of a new man on the scene was worth of attention. Evie spent most of her time bemoaning the fact that Frampton was such a sleepy and lifeless place. At eighteen, she had developed a keen and sometimes precocious interest in men and was distraught that the few she felt worthy of her attention had signed up for military service. She desperately wanted to join the armed forces too but her father had made it clear that she had duties at home. Jack’s health was failing fast and she was required to provide care for him, something she found unpleasant and stifling.
“So, where’s he staying?”
“I suppose he’ll be staying on the base eventually but the accommodation isn’t ready yet. He’s asked if he could spend a week with us first. It appears he’s got some leave to take now that he’s finished his training.”
“Well, it’s a bit inconvenient isn’t it, Uncle Jack?” Evie never liked to show enthusiasm in case it compromised her later. “I mean this isn’t a hotel. If he thinks I’m going to look after him and cook his meals and wash his clothes, he’s got another think coming.”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to muck in, Evie. And your father’s said it’ll be OK.”
“Oh well, that is alright then isn’t it,” she said with over dramatic irony.
“Perhaps you can introduce him to Emma.”
“Why the hell should I introduce him to Emma?” Evie thought to herself as she made her way upstairs to change and brush the tangles out of her long auburn hair inherited, she was told, from her mother. Emma was Evie’s best friend. They had met years ago at school and teamed up because they were both bullied by other children. They discovered that they were stronger when they acted together and soon acquired a fearsome reputation for retribution if they were picked on.
Over the years their friendship had grown strong and they had supported each other through many trials. Emma’s mother, Flora, worked for Jed in the construction business. Evie knew that they had been friends for many years but Flora never visited their house and Evie was seldom invited to theirs. Jed, however, seemed to spend long hours in Flora’s company at work and would even go back to her house sometimes to continue working in the evening.
“Evie, Evie, I need you. Can you come down please?”
Evie tensed as she heard Jack calling her. She detested playing the role of nurse and found it degrading to have to help Jack go to the toilet.
“Coming, Uncle Jack.”
Jack was now confined to his wheelchair, unable to walk more than a few paces without assistance. It was nearly twenty years since he had been told by the doctor in London that he would be dead within three to five years. But his condition had stabilised and in the first ten years new medications, improved diet and the country air had enabled him to play a full role with Jed in bringing up Evie. The last ten years, however, had seen a faster decline as his lungs slowly gave up. Now, his presence in the house and his constant demands were a source of irritation to Evie who had acquired a reputation for her short temper and restless moods. Over the years that Jack and Jed had struggled to raise Evie together, there had been plenty of confrontations and acrimony, but slowly the two men had built a trusting relationship which both felt owed much to their separate memories of Alice and their promises made to her in the days before she died.
It was six o’clock and the summer sun was still high in the sky. Jed stood at the office window watching the activity in the yard. He employed over twenty men now and most were busy tidying away equipment and preparing tools for the next day’s work. He ran his eyes along the line of parked vehicles, open trucks, tractors, diggers and bulldozers. At the far end was his first truck, the old Austin. It seldom left the yard these days but Jed liked to keep it. It reminded him of the early days when he was struggling to build the business and it reminded him too of Alice. He’d come to terms with her death now and filtered out the bad memories. And he only had to look at Evie with her slim build and flowing auburn hair to be reminded of her each day.
“Jed, I think you should sign this before we go.”
He turned to see that Flora had come into his office brandishing some papers. Her appearance brought a warm smile to his face. This was where his life was focused now. All these years Flora had refused to marry him but they had become close. She had turned out to be an excellent office manager and Jed relied heavily upon her.
“What is it, Flora? Can it wait till tomorrow?”
“It’s the work schedule for the new military buildings up at the hall. They want them by tomorrow morning.”
With the coming of the war, work had escalated dramatically. New aerodromes were being built, port installations constructed and military bases carved out of virgin country. The work schedule was for new office and residential accommodation at the local manor, acquired by the Ministry of War for a highly secretive project. Jed had no idea what was going on up there but the level of security was high and entailed all of his men being put through weeks of screening before being allowed onto the site.
“OK, you’d better let me read it first. What shall we do after? Can I come back to your place?”
He saw a knowing smile pass briefly over her face. She knew what he meant. They had been lovers for over five years. It had taken time. After Jed had rescued Flora and Emma from the slavery into which they had been incarcerated, Flora had suffered a break down. Knowing who the father of her child was and living close to him yet not being able to tell her child the truth was a very great burden for Flora. Slowly though, and with patient support from Jed, she recovered and came to terms with her situation. As she began to work for Jed, her confidence increased and eventually they slept together, though she made it plain she wouldn’t marry Jed whilst Jack was alive.
“I’ll cook you a meal but you can’t stay. Emma will be home.”
Jed watched Flora as she prepared the documents for signing. She had lost some of her youthful freshness but had acquired a comfortable and mature look which Jed found very reassuring. In bed, he had found with Flora a freedom and exhilaration that Alice had denied him. There were no targets or goals. They simply rejoiced in the intimacy of their love making and the enjoyment it gave to them both.
The following Friday, Evie left work at four in the afternoon. She and Emma planned to go to a dance at a nearby military base where there was bound to be a good selection of soldiers newly posted to the region and keen to meet the local female population. They normally spent the weekends together and Emma would often stay over at Hope Cottage.
As Evie negotiated the last of the pot holes in Duck Lane, she looked up and saw an unfamiliar blue sports car parked outside the cottage. On closer inspection she saw that it had the MG mark on the front grill. She guessed it must belong to Peter. Momentarily, she toyed with the idea of creeping round the back of the house to avoid him. She had been looking forward to soaking in a bath before going out for the evening. But the idea of being forced to act furtively in her own home by this new interloper was unappealing and so, having propped the bike against the usual tree, she braced herself for introductions.
She heard voices from the sitting room and made her way there. Jack was in his wheelchair and sitting opposite him was a very young fresh faced man in an RAF uniform. His dark hair flopped over his forehead and he sported a small clipped moustache on his upper lip. “To make him look older,” thought Evie to herself. He was about five foot eleven and had a slim build.
“Ah, Evie, my dear,” spluttered Jack, coughing mucus into a large white handkerchief. “I’m glad you’re back. Come in and meet Peter.”
Evie extended her hand as she moved into the room. It was taken enthusiastically and shaken like a puppy playing with a slipper.
“I’m so pleased to meet you,” he announced. “Uncle Jack has been telling me all about you. I understand that you look after him very well.”
“I’m not his nurse, you know,” replied Evie defensively.
“Oh, I know you’re not. But I know Uncle Jack appreciates everything you do for him.”
There was a short embarrassed silence as Evie sought to change the conversation.
“You’re just out of training then?”
“That’s right. I was sent down from Manchester to deliver a Hurricane. Then I’m going to join my new squadron - 242 Squadron. They’re based at Coltishall now.”
“So you haven’t seen any action yet?”
“Not yet - but I think we will soon. Hitler’s massing an invasion army on the French coast and we’re going to knock the hell out of him.”
“I hear the German Luftwaffe have got more planes than the RAF. You may have quite a battle on your hands.”
“Oh we’ll take whatever they throw at us and whip their backsides too. Once the RAF gets to work on them I reckon the war will only last a few more months.”
“Well, I admire your enthusiasm, Peter, unrealistic as it may be. But you must excuse me, I’m going to take a dance floor by storm tonight so I must go and put my battle dress on.”
With that, Evie turned and left the room.
“What’s wrong, Uncle Jack – something I said?” asked Peter.
“Oh, our Evie’s quite a feisty young lady, Peter. Got a mind of her own she has. To be honest with you, she’s a bit of a handful for me and Jed. When she gets together with that Emma, they’re a force to be reckoned with.”
“Who’s Emma?” asked Peter.
“She’s the daughter of Jed’s office manager. Mother and daughter live together on the other side of town.”
“No father then?”
“No, no father. Can you help me to the toilet, Peter? Better not disturb Evie now.”
“Have you worked out what they’re doing up at Manston Hall yet, Jed?” called Flora from the kitchenette.
“I think it’s to do with some special warfare unit. There’s a lot of young navy types up there and they’re often bussed up to the coast. Rumours are that it’s to do with landing soldiers from submarines.”
Jed finished clearing the table and joined Flora in the kitchenette. The house was small but cosy. By normal standards it was modern with a small cooking range and a coke boiler to heat the water. It had its own individual lavatory outside the back door and two small bedrooms upstairs. Jed was proud of the development. It was one of the first public housing projects in this part of the country and enabled many families from rural slums to be re housed. Flora had been one of the first tenants to move in. The chief engineer had little difficulty persuading the appropriate official.
“You’re not going to kick me out tonight then,” said Jed as he placed his hands around Flora’s waist.
“Emma’s at your place, I think, so we’ve got the house to ourselves. But if you snore again, you’re going to sleep in Emma’s room.”
“It’s not sleep I’m thinking about. Get up those stairs!”
Emma’s arrival at Hope Cottage was, as usual, like a typhoon hitting land.
Her coat never quite reached the hook in the hall and her shoes parted company with her feet seconds after entering the house. On meeting Peter, her verbal rhetoric knew no limits.
“Oh, are you Peter? You must be. I mean you look like a pilot. That funny little moustache. Not that yours is funny, just that I’ve seen pictures of pilots with funny little moustaches. So what do you fly? Oh, I know it’s aeroplanes. But what sort of aeroplanes? Are they bombers and have you dropped any on Germany yet because ...”
“You must be Emma,” Peter eventually managed to say. “You’re Evie’s friend.”
“Yes, that’s right. We’re off out. Do you want to come?”
“Where are you going?”
“There’s a dance at this new base just outside Cromer. There’s an open invitation for local girls.”
“Well, I guess that excludes me then.”
“Oh God, yes,” replied Emma. “I suppose it does.”
“But I can take you two girls in my car, if you’d like.”
“Would you really do that?”
“It’d be my pleasure.”
“Oh Evie,” shouted Emma rushing from the room and bounding up the stairs. “I’ve fixed us a lift – with a pilot.”
Flora’s bed was small and soft – rather like a nest. Jed loved the intimate contact it provided as their bodies wrapped around each other’s contours. They made love in the same way they always did. There was no need to prove anything to each other. Afterwards, they lay close together, limbs wrapped in a contented tangle.
“Will you marry me?” asked Jed.
“You always ask me that and the answers always the same. Not whilst we’re both living a lie. I can’t do it, Jed. Could you imagine me coming to live in your house with Jack. It’d be insane. Two girls, both fathered by him but neither of them knowing he’s the father.”
“I’m not sure he’s got long to live, he can hardly get out of his chair now.”
“You’ve been saying that for years. Anyway, it’s not about Jack dying, it’s about the truth getting out, because one day it will and then we’ll both have a lot of explaining to do. Have you thought about that?
It was early evening and Peter accelerated the blue MG 18/80 through the country lanes en route to Cromer. He said little, concentrating on holding the car to the road as he raced it round tight bends. Evie sat by his side, occasionally stealing a glance at his preoccupied face. Emma was on the bench seat at the back, holding down her clothes to prevent the wind ripping them from her body. Talking was almost impossible because of the noise.
“She’s got a lovely ..., don’t you think?
“What?” yelled Evie.
“It’s a two point five cc in line ...”
“What’s in line?”
“The cylinders. Six in line.”
“Wow, that’s great!”
To Evie he seemed immature. She hadn’t much experience of boyfriends but she’d had a few dates, usually with men in their mid twenties, often farm hands or labourers. They were usually silent types, serious and with little conversation. She hadn’t met anyone like Peter before with his boyish enthusiasm and boundless optimism.
They found the base easily on the outskirts of Cromer. It was a newly constructed site for an infantry regiment. Nissan huts stood in long rows behind barbed wire. Two armed guards stood at the entrance. Peter pulled the car into the side of the road some distance from the gate to let the girls out.
“I expect they’d let you in, Peter,” Emma called out as she jumped from the back of the car. “We could have a word with the sentries.”
“No, Emma, thanks. This is their dance and they won’t want intruders. If you like, I’ll pick you both up later.”
“Don’t worry,” replied Evie. “We’ll get the last train back.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Oh, why not, Evie?” said Emma, rushing to join in the conversation. It’s a twenty minute walk from here to the station. We’ll have to leave about eleven thirty. I don’t expect Peter would mind if he picked us up at say twelve thirty - would you, Peter?”
“Well, I suppose not.”
“That’s it then. See you here at twelve thirty, Peter. Come on, Evie, the band’s already playing.”
The recent arrival in the area of thousands of extra soldiers and airmen had dramatically improved the social opportunities for young women like Evie and Emma. With no shortage of men, they danced away the night to the sounds of a big band from London and drank copious amounts of martini. By the end of the evening, both had teamed up with young soldiers and when the lights in the mess went on at midnight, they drifted out with many other couples to say their goodbyes beyond the perimeter fence.
The war and impending action had already induced a sense of reckless disregard for conventional behaviour and values. Lined up along the outside of the fence were more than twenty couples locked into passionate embraces. Evie’s ‘Tom,’ a former plasterer from London and a ‘whiz’ on the dance floor, was getting carried away. His hands were sliding up Evie’s legs and she was beginning to push away from him, desperate to disengage her lips from his. Smudges of bright red lipstick were smeared across their faces as the struggle intensified.
“Hey, you - soldier. Leave that woman alone!”
Tom released his hold and stared uncomprehendingly in the direction of the voice. Evie did the same. Over the road, standing by the blue MG, was Peter.
“Just keep your hands off that woman. That’s not on, doing that sort of thing in public.”
“Peter, what are you doing?” exclaimed Evie. “Go away. I can look after myself.”
“You heard what the lady said,” echoed Tom, moving across the road to where Peter was standing. “Move your scrawny RAF body out of my sight before I move it for you.”
Evie didn’t like what was happening. Peter looked as if he’d never thrown a punch whereas Tom was brought up in the East End of London and had been fighting for most of his life.
“Just mind your manners, that’s all,” said Peter, backing away towards the car.
Evie noticed that other soldiers were breaking away from their embraces and moving towards the scene of the confrontation.
“Manners. I’ll teach you some fucking manners!” And with that, Tom threw a punch that landed heavily on Peter’s face and knocked him into the car. All hell was let loose after that. Soldiers were running from all directions. Suddenly, Emma was by Evie’s side.
“Get in the car. We must go. Quick!”
Tom, surprised by Peter’s fall into the car, was squaring up for another punch but was knocked off balance by Evie and Emma jumping into the MG.
“Get going, Peter!” yelled Emma.
Tom delivered a glancing blow into the car, hitting Evie on the shoulder and knocking her to the floor. With a roar and a screech of tyres, the car exploded into life and shot forward towards the line of advancing soldiers. Peter managed to take control of the wheel and executed a hand brake turn. More soldiers were advancing from the opposite direction so he aimed the car for a small gap in their lines. Driving up onto the embankment and using the hill to his advantage, he slipped through the gap and sped off in the opposite direction.
Once they were well away from the camp, Peter pulled onto the verge to help Evie off the floor.
“What was that all about then?” she demanded angrily.
“He was groping you. He had his hands up your skirt.”
“That’s none of your business and you had no right to interfere. He was ten times the size of you and could have killed you.”
“I felt responsible for you,” protested Peter. “I brought you both here and I was taking you back. How could I have looked Uncle Jack in the face if I’d just left you to it?”
“You’re not my keeper. In fact, you’re nothing to me, Peter. Just drive us home.”
The rest of the journey took place in awkward silence, save for the roar of the wind gusting over the open roof of the MG. When they got to Hope Cottage, Emma, who was suffering the after effects of the martini, made her way straight to bed, leaving Evie and Peter alone in the parlour. Peter broke the silence.
“Look, I really am sorry if I acted a bit out of place. I suppose I just didn’t like what he was doing to you.”
“It was none of your business what he was doing to me. I can’t stand people trying to control me,” Evie replied petulantly.
“I admire your spirit. I think it’s important to be a free thinker.”
“Don’t patronise me.”
Peter paused and looked uncomfortably at the floor.
“Evie, I would really like to have a conversation with you but we don’t seem to have any point of contact. It’s a shame. I really like you.”
“Then try harder,” she replied in a challenging tone.
“Erm, tell me about yourself,” Peter stammered awkwardly. “What sort of person are you?”
Evie sighed and replied in a monosyllabic voice. “I’m eighteen. Got no mother, brought up by two men - probably damaged me for life. Boring job, part time nurse - dull, dull, dull.”
“What about boyfriends?”
“I find most men boring too. They just want to grope me.”
“Do you find me boring?”
“Well, so far I have to admit you haven’t been boring, what with dive bombing our house and taking on the entire British infantry single handed. No, you’re not boring – just stupid.”
“Oh,” replied Peter disconsolately, searching for something to say that didn’t sound stupid.
“Don’t take it personally,” added Evie with an artificial brightness to her voice. “I’m just screwed up.”
“Well, in that case you need someone to talk to. What about Emma, she’s your friend?”
“Emma’s screwed up as well. She doesn’t know who her father is. Mother won’t tell her. Sometimes we feel like sisters - almost think alike. But I couldn’t talk to her about things.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t understand them myself. I don’t know why I’m like I am.”
There was a pause whilst Evie poured tea from a pot on the stove.
“What do you remember about your mother?” asked Peter.
“A bit. I can remember playing by her bed when she was ill. I can remember looking at her just after she had died. I thought how beautiful she looked - like Sleeping Beauty.”
“Were you happy?”
“I think I was happy. I had a mother, a father and a doting uncle. But I have this strange feeling that all wasn’t well. I remember Daddy often looking sad. And I remember Mummy and Uncle Jack laughing together a lot. It didn’t mean anything to me then but in recent years ...”
Evie’s voice tailed off.
“Go on. Tell me what you’ve been thinking.”
“I’ve just started to wonder about Uncle Jack being in the house all that time. I mean it’s a bit strange having a permanent lodger living in the house. I know it was because he was ill and Mum and Dad needed the money. But I’ve started to get this feeling that there’s a lot I don’t know.”
“You could be just imagining it,” replied Peter thoughtfully.
“I’ll tell you something that almost no one else knows,” continued Evie. Before my mother died, she wrote me a letter to open on each birthday until I’m twenty five. She gives me a little bit of advice, the sort of things a mother might say if she was here. And in these letters I think she’s hinting at something. It’s almost as if she’s preparing me for something awful.”
“Why don’t you open them all and see?”
“No, I won’t do that. In the very first letter she makes me promise to only open each letter on the birthday it’s meant for. If she was preparing me for something I’ve got to wait until the right time.”
There was another pause whilst they both sipped tea.
“Have you told anybody else these things?” asked Peter.
“No, only you. And I don’t know why I’ve done that. I feel embarrassed now. I’d better go to bed.”
“Don’t feel embarrassed. I’m pleased you told me. I’m pleased you trusted me.”
Evie smiled and finished her tea.
“It’s late. I’ll see you in the morning.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek and brushed past him on her way to the stairs. A shiver of anticipation ran through his body.
Alone in her room, Evie felt disturbed by the night’s events. Whilst Peter had been reckless at the military camp, he had an inner maturity which she had only just recognised. He was the first person she had spoken to about these issues and she couldn’t understand what had led her to open up in this way. She hoped he hadn’t been too hurt by her earlier feckless comments. Her mind dwelt on the things she had discussed with Peter.
Evie reached across to the silver trinket box that Jed had bought her to keep the letters in. This was her most treasured possession, her one link to the person who could help her understand. She took the key from its hiding place in a small vase and opened the lock. Inside was a neat row of folded letters. At the end of the row were seven remaining unopened envelopes. Evie took the last opened letter and read it once more.
Hello, my darling,
Today you are eighteen and you are quite a grown woman. It will seem a long time since I left you now. I wonder what your world is like. I expect it's very different from the one I knew. It's strange writing to you knowing that you will be eighteen when you read this. As I write this letter you are five and you are playing at the foot of my bed with your rag doll. You're a very pretty little girl but you're strong willed and impetuous. How will you manage these qualities when you're older?
Evie wiped tears from her eyes. She knew she was strong willed and impetuous. It was her way of surviving, her way of keeping control when life seemed to overwhelm her. Without a mother there were whole areas of her life she hadn’t been able to discuss. Jed and Jack were loving and caring but they couldn’t understand the turbulent emotions of a teenage girl.
There are still things I want to tell you so that you understand more about me and more about yourself. But the time is not yet right. I want to prepare you, though. Let me just say this. At eighteen you may have experienced, or you may be about to experience, a relationship with a man. This will present you with many different powerful emotions - love, loyalty, desire and possibly despair. But the strongest of all emotions is passion. It's powerful because it comes not from the mind but from the heart, deep inside of you. It lacks the logic of the other emotions yet is has the power to drive your destiny forward in unexpected ways. You can't avoid passion if it comes your way but be ready for the chaos it brings with it. Passion is difficult to identify until it has engulfed you. It can cause you to destroy those things that you hold dear whilst at the same seducing your entire being with sublime joy. Passion has many faces, my darling, and I urge you to beware. But I believe you are strong and whilst you will face many dilemmas, as I have done, you will eventually rise above the turmoil.
Your ever loving mother, Alice
Evie tried to imagine what her mother was telling her. Her relationships so far had involved few of the emotions her mother spoke of. She craved attention. She wanted to be liked, to be asked out and to be seen on the arm of a man. But none of this was to do with love or desire. And passion - this was a word that meant nothing to Evie. She had kissed men hard with her mouth open and their tongues interlocking - but was this passion? Evie hoped not. So what had caused this introspection? What had happened that had made her want to connect again with her mother? There was something about Peter that had struck a chord but she didn’t yet know what. She hoped she hadn’t burnt her boats.
Evie got up late the next morning to discover that the car had gone. She was puzzled. She thought Peter was staying until Sunday before returning to his base.
“What’s happened to Peter?” she asked Jack as she was brewing tea in the parlour.
“He left early, about six o’clock. There was a telegram waiting here for him when he got back last night. He’s being recalled early to Coltishall. There’s some sort of emergency. Seems the Germans are trying to bomb the airfields and obliterate the RAF before they try to invade us. I think it’s serious, Evie.”
The reason for Peter’s early recall soon became clear. From mid July, the BBC was announcing a series of German raids on shipping convoys in the channel. British and other Allied fighters were engaged in heavy dog fights with German Stukas to keep shipping flowing freely. Jack had received a brief letter from Peter thanking the family for their hospitality. One line stood out for Evie.
Please tell Evie how much I enjoyed talking to her and I’m looking forward to many more thought provoking chats in the future.
In mid August, the focus of the German attacks changed to bombing British airfields in the lead up to the anticipated invasion. Like many people, Jack, Jed and Evie remained glued to the radio, listening to the progress of the battle. August 15th was an especially bad day. The news was sombre.
Here is the news, and this is Alvar Lidell reading it. Today, August 15th, has seen the greatest number of raids so far by the German Luftwaffe on British air bases and coastal defences. British and other Allied fighters have been relentless in their pursuit and destruction of enemy aircraft. Out of 115 bombers and 35 fighters sent, 16 bombers and 7 fighters were destroyed.
The battles continued over the south of England for the next few days, reaching a climax on August 18th when losses on both sides were at their greatest.
This is the six o’clock news. Today has seen intense fighting in the skies over the south of Britain. Allied Spitfires and Hurricanes repeatedly repulsed wave after wave of attacking German bombers.
Evie listened with mounting concern as casualties rose, not knowing whether Peter had become one of those statistics. Then after the 18th, the raids suddenly seemed to subside, caused partly by the poor weather and partly by the exhaustion of pilots on both sides. It was enough for the British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, to address the nation and talk of the ‘tide turning.’
The gratitude of every home in our island, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the world, except in the abodes of the guilty, goes out to the British airmen who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of the world war by their prowess and by their devotion. Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.
During this period of intense fighting, nothing was heard from Peter. Jed knew from his military contacts that the Hurricanes and Spitfires from Coltishall were flying every day and that the pilots were near to exhaustion. He also knew that many new pilots were being shot down within days of entering service. On August 22nd, a letter arrived.
Dear Uncle Jack, Jed and Evie,
I was shot down last Thursday. I’m in hospital but don’t worry. I’m going to be alright but it will take a little time. I was hit over Kent by a Messerschmitt. The engine lost power and I had to come down in a field. Unfortunately, the field had been ploughed so the plane didn’t land very well. In fact, it crashed. I now have two fractured legs. They say I’ll be in here for four weeks and then I’ll be fit to fly again. I’ll try to visit you briefly before I’m redeployed.
With best wishes to you all,
Peter
Everyone felt tremendous relief. Evie was surprised by the degree to which she was elated. For the first time since Peter had departed, she felt ready to write him a letter.
Dearest Peter,
We’ve all been following the battles, listening to our little radio in the parlour. It’s terrible that you’ve been shot down but I’m so happy you’re alive.
I feel that we didn’t get off to a very good start when you visited us recently. I think I was a bit too opinionated and, to be honest with you, I thought you were a bit smug. Anyhow, I did enjoy our conversations and hope we can have more of them.
I hope you can visit us again when you’re better.
With much affection,
Evie
Four weeks later, on her way back from work, Evie spied a Spitfire swoop low again over Hope Cottage and perform a victory roll. This time she didn’t fall off her bike, but whoopeed instead with joy and waved frantically at the plane.
Later that same evening, Evie heard the sound of the MG revving outside the house. Pulling off her apron, she rushed outside to greet Peter. He was already out of the car and walking towards her. Without thinking, she rushed forward to throw her arms around him, only realising at the last minute that this was probably presumptuous of her. As a result, she tripped prompting Peter to reach out and catch her, causing them both to fall and end up in a tangled heap.
“This is some greeting, Evie!” exclaimed Peter from underneath his cap which had fallen over his face. “A peck on the cheek would have been fine.”
“I’m so sorry, Peter. I was just glad to see you’re safe. I didn’t mean to ... I mean, I didn’t want to ...” stammered Evie.
“Hold on, hold on,” replied Peter. I’ve had your greeting, now it’s time for mine.” And with that he removed his cap and kissed Evie firmly on the lips. “You see, when you’re being chased by German dive bombers and you think your time’s up, you promise yourself that if you get out of this mess you’re not going to hang around being timid. You’ve just got to get on and do what you want to do quickly before it’s too late. So I resolved to come here and kiss you, Evie. And, by God, I’m glad I‘ve done it.”
“I don’t know what to say,” replied Evie, breathlessly. “I just know that I’m so pleased to see you safe. How long are you staying?”
“I tell you what. I’ll answer that when we get up off the ground and go inside. Is that a deal?”
Jack was sleeping when they got inside so Evie and Peter had time to talk. Evie felt that she detected a change in Peter - less arrogance and more introspection.
“We were glued to the radio every day, Peter, listening to the news. We’d cheer every time they announced more German losses.”
“It wasn’t just German losses though, Evie. We lost hundreds of young British lads too, killed or maimed. I count myself lucky to have been shot down early and survived. If I’d gone another week I’m sure I’d have died. It was statistically inevitable.”
“How do you cope with the fear up there, the thought that each minute might be your last?”
“A lot of the time you don’t think. You just do what you’ve been trained to do. But it’s strange up there in a Spitfire. When you’re not being shot at or chasing Heinkels, you can feel quite detached from the world below. You’re kind of in between the real world and whatever else there may be afterwards. It gets you thinking about what matters and what is just vanity.”
“And what does matter?”
“People matter. You matter, Evie.” He took her in his arms and kissed her, pulling her body close to his.
“This is happening so fast, Peter. I’m confused.”
“It must happen fast, Evie. I’ve only got two days. I’ve got to report back to Coltishall on Sunday. I’m being posted abroad.”
“Why, where are you going?” asked Evie anxiously. “I thought you were needed to defend Britain.”
“They reckon the threat of an invasion’s gone now. Hitler failed to get control of the skies so an invasion is too dangerous. The war’s taking place on lots of different fronts, Evie. They’re sending me to Singapore.”
That night, they dined quietly at Hope Cottage. The celebration they had all anticipated to welcome Peter home was overshadowed by the news of his imminent departure. After the meal, Peter and Evie walked in the receding light of the setting sun, down Duck Lane and into the pastures beyond. It was a quiet evening save for the gentle lowing of cattle in the distance. The harvest had been gathered and the countryside looked verdant in the orange glow cast by the last of the sun’s rays. They stopped by a large oak tree and kissed again, this time longer and with passion.
“Do you want to make love to me, Peter?” asked Evie, looking hesitantly into his eyes. “I mean, with you going away and not knowing what’s in store. I just didn’t want you to feel that you couldn’t ask.”
Peter looked at her without smiling and ran his hand through the wisps of auburn hair that hung over her face.
“I do want to make love to you, Evie, but I’m not going to. I do want to very much but if I die you will have a different future and I won’t be part of it. I don’t want you to allow me into your life now and then have to find ways of cutting me out again later. If I return, Evie, I will seek you out and pursue you relentlessly. But if I don’t return you must be free to pursue another life.”
Peter was due to return to Coltishall the next afternoon. In the morning, he and Evie took a final walk together out towards Offa’s Mount. From the top of the escarpment, they gazed in silence at the green pastures bathed in warm sunlight that were spread out below.
“This is how I want to remember England, Evie, and this is how I want to remember you - just you and me, alone together, looking down on this piece of England.”
They promised to write when they could but both understood that they might be apart for a long time. After he had gone, Evie felt a great void developing inside her and a simmering anger that her life was once more outside of her control.
Peter sent a letter before he departed for Singapore in September and then again when he arrived in early January 1942 having spent weeks waiting in Gibraltar for a passage. Evie detected a note of reticence and caution in his words, maybe mindful of the fact that letters were heavily censored.
I arrived at Kallang airport on Tuesday where I joined 232 Squadron. There are 42 of us new recruits. The island seems to be full of Australians and Indians as well as Brits. An invasion by the Japaneses is expected soon. Malaysia has already fallen to them and large numbers of British soldiers taken prisoner.
I’ll try to write again soon.
All my love,
Peter
Again Evie spent much of her time listening to the radio in the parlour as news of the Japanese invasion of Malaya was relayed back home.
Yesterday, the 31st January, Allied forces in the Far East were forced to hand over control of Malaya to the Imperial Japanese Army. As a final act of defiance, the causeway linking Malaya with Singapore was blown up by British engineers.
In early February came the news that Evie dreaded.
Reports from Singapore suggest that the Japanese invasion of the island has begun. A first wave of 4,000 troops landed in the Australian sector at first light yesterday. Their advance is being fiercely resisted by heroic action from Allied air men who are attacking Japanese lines around the clock.
Throughout February, reports of Japanese advances were broadcast most days. It seemed that the end was inevitable. On February 15th, normal programmes were interrupted with the following broadcast:
It has just been reported that the Allied garrison in Singapore has surrendered to the Imperial Japanese Army. The garrison’s commander, Lieutenant-General Arthur Percival formally surrendered to the Japanese Commander-in-Chief at a quarter past five local time yesterday.
Evie was stunned. She hadn’t heard a word from Peter since his arrival in Singapore. She knew there had been heavy losses amongst Allied air crew and it was now clear that many thousands of Allied soldiers would been taken prisoner by the Japanese. She knew there were international rules on the treatment of prisoners of war and hoped that Peter would be placed somewhere safe away from hostilities.
February 1942 was bleak. It had rained constantly since early January. Jed had to put much of his building work on hold as the ground was too water logged to take vehicles. Friday, 27th was particularly bleak. Gales howled inland from the North Sea and rain lashed at the windows of Hope Cottage. Jed returned home at lunch time from the office and sat in the sitting room staring desolately at building plans. He heard the sound of an engine stopping outside and looked to see who had ventured out in this weather. His body froze. A young man in a peaked cap with a brown cape was getting off his motor bike. A khaki bag hung by his side. Jed’s mind immediately flashed back to a similar scene twenty five years ago - a scene that had changed his life.
The harsh rap at the door jolted him back to the present. He opened the door and looked vacantly at the young courier.
“Telegram for you, sir,” he said, knowing full well what the contents were. He saluted, turned on his heels and walked quickly back to his bike.
Jed stared at the damp envelope. It was addressed to Jack Malikov Esquire. He closed the door and walked slowly up the stairs to Jack’s room. Jack was lying on his bed, breathing in long rasping gasps.
“I’ve got a telegram, Jack. It’s just come. It’s addressed to you.”
“You open it, Jed. I know what it is. We both know.”
Jed tore open the envelope and took out the telegram.
“You read it, Jed. My eyes aren’t so good.”
“It’s from the Air Ministry.
Deeply regret to inform that your nephew, Flying Officer Peter Malikov, is reported as missing, presumed dead. His aircraft is believed to have been shot down off the coast of Singapore. The Air Council professes its extreme sympathy.”
Jed sat on the bed by the side of Jack and held him whilst he wept. Tragedy seemed finally to have brought them to a point of reconciliation that neither could have anticipated in happier times.
“How do we tell Evie?” Jack whispered. “This’ll destroy her, Jed.”