(revised)
Every day was the same since I had left for Merston again. Freya and I had been married for several months now and yet, we only had spent twenty-four hours together as husband and wife before we had to say goodbye again. Maybe it was just me, but the separation was less heart-breaking than the first time for we had made a promise to each other. We were confident we would live our life together, but there I was, back to my planes as my mother would say, back to my duty. Days were very busy and very similar. I had my diary to keep track of time, otherwise I would not know which day it was. November had gone, then December and Christmas away from my family, New Year with the hope that 1941 would bring the war to an end, my 26th birthday that I celebrated with my teammates to forget I was not with my wife, and then, Easter, alone again. Summer had started, a harsh reminder that I had not been home for almost a year. A year of seeing the same faces every day and not the one I missed the most; a year of kissing her photograph as a ritual before I had to take off and before going to sleep; a year of exchanging letters that just reminded us how lonely we felt; a year of erasing the names of the fallen ones from the black board of the common room and praying that mine would not be the next one to disappear...
My teammates and I were so weary of this war, yet we knew we were needed. We were not human beings anymore, we were machines. As soon as the ringtone was heard, we would switch off our feelings and run to our planes, take off, do our thing, land and go back to our quarters to wait for the next call. And if we came back fewer than we had left, we would head to the pub at the end of the day and drink pint after pint to forget it could have been us.
All of that, I would not tell Freya in my letters. I would not tell anyone. I would pretend that I was fine, confident and courageous and not that I was scared every time I had to leave on a mission. I would not tell her that I was not able to sleep properly anymore and that I would spend most of my nights staring at the ceiling, haunted by images of the fights I had done. I would not tell her when another pilot had died so she would worry less about me instead of fearing for my life. I would not tell her being away from her was driving me mad. And I knew she was doing the same. I knew she was pretending to be fine while my mother told me she was struggling to enjoy life as she was supposed to.
*
There was not a single second during the day when I was not thinking about him. Even now, when I was supposed to enjoy my afternoon in the countryside with Joseph and our mutual friends, the day was spoiled by the thought that he was the only person missing. I was observing Henry and his girlfriend messing around in the river and I felt terribly jealous. I had the impression that all I could feel now was jealousy. Lovers holding hands in the street, a couple kissing while waiting for the underground, a pregnant woman helped out of a car by her husband; I envied them, all of them. I despised them for being able to be happy and together in a time of war. I despised them for reminding me that I was not allowed such happiness. So, accepting to leave London for an afternoon in the countryside had been a terrible idea for I had to witness the expression of Henry's affection for his girl when all I wanted was to yell at him to stop. I wished I could be happy for them. I felt terrible for being so bitter, but I could not help it.
"Stop torturing yourself," Joseph told me, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"I'm not—" I tried to deny.
"You're looking at them as if you wanted to kill them," he laughed.
I sighed, he was right.
"I know how you feel, but you've to let go. There's nothing we can do about it. We just have to be patient," he tried to comfort me.
"I know... But it's the first time he's been away for so long. I feel like he'll never come back..." I confessed.
"He will. Just trust him," he said as he pulled me in his arms.
"I know what you need," he added with a mischievous smile, and before I could realise he had something in mind, he had lifted me off the ground and was running towards the river. I tried my best to free myself from his clasp, but he was too strong and in no time, we were falling into the fresh water. I quickly surfaced, completely soaked and very mad at Joseph. I wiped the hair from my face and frowned at him but he was giggling like a child.
"I hate you," I shouted as I splashed water in his face.
"Now you've a good reason to hate someone," he laughed and splashed me back.
I jumped on him and tried to push him under water, but he resisted and instead, I was the one who had to hold her breath. I laughed at my miserable attempt and attacked him again. We fought like kids until we were both breathless, until I realised I had managed to let go. Guilt crept over me for I felt I was betraying Andrew by not thinking about him. I knew it was stupid, and that not thinking about him did not mean I was forgetting him, but missing someone was a really hard feeling to deal with. I would realise I had difficulty remembering his voice, his smell, his touch, and I would think it was my fault, when it wasn't. But I blamed myself nonetheless.
Joseph had noticed my sudden change of mood but before he could ask me what was wrong, I had stepped out of the water and wrapped myself in my towel.
"Are you okay?" he asked as he joined me.
"Yes, I was just a bit cold," I lied as I forced a smile.
"It's starting to be late, maybe we should make a move if we want to catch the train," he suggested.
I nodded in agreement, so Joseph called for the rest of the group to gather. We all dressed up and collected our things before leaving for the train station. We were entering the village when a familiar noise caught my attention. We all raised our eyes to the sky to see four spitfires rush above our heads in a roaring sound. There was something spectacular and graceful about the way they were flying in close formation. Seeing them here was a reminder that we could go on with our lives thanks to them. While the rest of the group did not pay much attention, I instinctively stopped, following them with my eyes until they disappeared behind the tops of the trees. What if it was him just there? What if it was Andrew? Chances were very slim, but anything that could link me to him was worth taking.
"Freya, come on," Joseph called me. "We're gonna miss the train!"
And so, I erased the spitfires from my thoughts and hurried to catch up with my friend.
*
I had arrived back home early in the evening. As soon as I had walked through the front door, I had felt his absence to be unbearable. It was just too much after that day. I had dropped my bag on the floor and headed to our bedroom to grab a piece of paper and write to Andrew. I wanted to be honest and tell him all the feelings that were weighing on my heart, tell him how much I missed him and how it was hard to go on with my life when he was not there. I shared my torments with him, hoping it would make me feel better, but it did not. Looking at that bed that we had only shared for one night made me want to cry, for every night I slipped under the blankets, his warm body was not there to comfort me, his arms were not there to embrace me, nor his voice to lull me. I thought of Eden and how lucky she was to have married a man that she could see almost every day and that she was sure would come back home to her. I had never thought it would be that painful to love someone. Two weeks apart was fine, four months was difficult but manageable, but a year, it just became pain in the end. You tended to forget what was good about your relationship, blinded by the torture of being separated. It was not something I could endure that night. I could not stay alone in our flat, and so I had left for some place where I knew I would find the comfort I needed. Thirty minutes later, I was knocking at my father's door, hoping he was not already asleep. When he opened the door, I could tell he was surprised to see me there.
"Freya, darling, what's wrong?" he asked as he let me inside.
I turned around to face him and could not prevent tears from running down my cheeks when I answered him.
"I can't do that anymore," I said in a sob.
"Do what darling?" he tried to understand.
"I can't bear to live without him," I confessed.
"Oh Freya," he sighed as he hugged me.
To be in his arms and to feel protected again, as I had always felt as a little girl, helped me release all the sadness that had filled my heart. I did not try to be strong or proud, I simply let all my tears go away, wrapped in his arms, at home.
"I miss him so much," I finally managed to say as I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand.
"I know, I know you do," he said as he stroked my hair. "Come," he invited me to follow him to the living room. "I'll make us some tea and then you can tell me everything," he let me know as he made me sit on the couch before heading to the kitchen.
When he came back with the tray, he sat next to me and handed me my cup of tea, which I gladly accepted, hoping the hot beverage would bring some warmth to my heart.
"I know it's hard darling. I know you feel like you'll never be able to be happy together. I went through all of that. But when days seem too dark, when it seems too hard, too painful, you need to remind yourself why you married Andrew. You need to remind yourself why you fell in love with him and you'll see why it's worth going through all the pain," he told me.
I nodded and thanks to his words, I could finally see some light through the dark clouds casting a shadow over my life.
"Tell me what you love about him and I'll tell you what I loved about your mother," he encouraged me.
"I love his patience and his understanding," I started. "I love the way he always tries to see the positive side of things, and always manage to make me laugh with his jokes. He's so strong, he never let anything bring him down. Our relationship is unique, because he respects me more than anyone, he makes me feel so special and important. And he has the most beautiful eyes," I concluded, smiling as I imagined his reflection in my cup of tea.
"That's what you need to remember, that's the most important," my father said as he stroked my arm.
"Your mother, my dear Eleanor, she was so much better than me. She made me who I am today. She was sweet and perfect. She always pushed me to do my best and believe in myself. She was full of hope and confident when I was full of doubts. She only saw the best, always. You need to be that person for Andrew. When he faces danger, when he faces death, he needs to know that you believe in him and trust him. You need to make him feel strong and worthy. If you are discouraged, he'll be too. But he needs your love and he needs your strength to go through war. You need each other. And if you have each other, everything will be okay."
*
"You alright there Collins?" my friend Boyle asked me as I was reading Freya's letter that had just arrived this day. I probably looked mad if he felt the need to ask such question.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I brushed it off as I did not look away from the letter.
He was right, I was mad in fact. After such a bad day, this letter was not making things better. It only made it worse. I folded the pages back and looked at my right hand, still covered with chalk after I had to erase the name of one of the new recruits from the black board. I hated being the one in charge of that. I had erased his name as if his life meant nothing. It felt like it meant nothing to our leaders who were safe in their mansions while we were fighting a stupid war and giving our lives to serve our country, leaving our families and loved ones behind to protect our people and kill other people. And I was there, trying to survive day after day, fulfilling my duty, trying not to sink, while my wife was telling me how sad she felt, alone in London. After a tough day like this one, I did not need to read something like that. I did not want to know how sad she was, how lonely she felt and how hard it was for her to keep faith. She should have known it would have made me feel guilty. I was responsible for her unhappiness and her tears. I had asked her to marry me and I had been wrong, because I was forcing her to wait for me for months, in fear and anxiety. It was not what I wanted. I wanted her to be happy, not to feel trapped in a relationship that was bringing her down. I loved her but I couldn't do that to her. I just could not bear the idea that she was suffering because of me. What could I answer to that? Nothing I could say would make her feel better. Three pages of declarations of love and promises I would probably not be able to keep would not make her happier. I was failing as a husband and as a squadron leader, but I could only try to be better at one at a time, not both. I wrote to her nonetheless, a short message, because I wanted her to be happy despite everything, despite how hard it was, and once the letter was ready to be sent, I got up from the couch and went to grab my uniform jacket.
"Should we go out for a drink?" I asked my teammates. "I think we all need one after today."
They all agreed and so we headed to the pub, ready to leave that awful day behind us.
*
I was staring at my glass of whisky, my third of the night, my sixth if I counted the pints of beer I had also had before. My friends were dancing and cheering at the bar, singing and playing the piano, enjoying the company of girls, but I was sat at a table in a corner of the room, not feeling in the mood to join them. I would have usually been the one to lead the rest of the team, but not this time. I just wanted to be alone. I grabbed my glass and observed the amber liquid inside, my best friend for the night. I was suddenly brought back to reality when Boyle approached me with a girl at his side.
"That's Collins," he told her as the brunette girl looked at me. "As you can see, the chap is not at his best, I thought you could cheer him up," he concluded as he pulled the chair beside me so she could sit.
"I don't need company," I tried to argue, but she had already taken her place by my side and Boyle had already left.
I laughed with discomfort and rubbed my hands on my face, internally hating my friend for forcing that on me.
"I'm Betty," she introduced herself, fluttering her eyelashes when trying to meet my eyes.
"Collins," I coldly replied and swallowed down my whisky.
"I always see you around here, but I've never managed to talk to you. You're so difficult to reach, unlike the other men, that's probably why all the girls around here are talking about you," she said.
"If you say so," I did not even try to make conversation.
"You're so mysterious, always so calm, I think that's what I like about you," she said in a honeyed voice as she moved her chair closer to me.
"I'm not mysterious, I'm married," I stopped her before she could go on.
"Oh, I didn't know that," she seemed surprised. "She's lucky."
"I don't think she would agree with you."
"Well, I would feel lucky to be your wife. Is it why you're sad, though?" she asked.
"Partly, yes," I admitted.
"What's the other reason?" she insisted.
"I just had a bad day, that's all," I answered.
"Oh, I see, it's because you lost a pilot today, right? It must be hard..." she observed as she pressed her hand on mine. Surprisingly, her touch felt more appeasing than I expected. I did not know it if was because it reminded me of Freya or because it was something I missed and needed at the moment, but I did not remove my hand from her. I just remained silent.
"How did it happen?" she tried to know.
"I really don't want to talk about that," I told her, finally looking at her. She did not avoid my eyes and warmly smiled at me instead. She was so different from Freya. She was not shy at all but so confident, too confident. Her eyes looking straight into mine only showed determination and I felt intimidated.
"You've the bluest eyes I have ever seen," she complimented me.
And it could have stayed there if she had not placed her hand on my thigh and moved it to the inside of my leg. I quickly stood up to avoid her touch and tried to hide my disgust.
"I... I need to smoke," I stammered as I left her disappointed and alone at the table.
I lit my cigarette as soon as I stepped outside and leant my back against the wall of the pub. I let out a deep sigh, so angry with myself for having let that Betty think she had a chance. Who was I to do that to Freya? What was happening to me? I desperately drew on my cigarette as I tried to fight the urge to punch something with frustration. I just wanted to feel nothing anymore.
I was departing when the door of the pub opened and two of my teammates appeared with their conquests of the night, and Betty.
"Collins! Wait!" they called me, forcing me to stop and turn around.
"I'm leaving," I informed them.
"Us too! Let's walk together," Boyle suggested. I did not want to, but I was trapped, so I reluctantly let them join me, Betty not missing the opportunity to come at my side.
I said nothing and only looked at my feet, praying that this walk would be over sooner than later. My teammates were heavily drunk and noisy and touchy with their girls, and it made it even more awkward to have Betty by my side because I knew what her intentions were.
"That's where we must part," Boyle informed me as his group stopped in front of an inn.
"Have fun you two," he winked at us before they all disappeared inside the building.
"Are they fucking serious?" I laughed nervously as I ran a hand through my hair. That night was a bad joke. I resumed walking when Betty interrupted me.
"My street is on the left," she said.
"Well, then, good night," I told her, willing to get away from her as soon as possible.
"Are you not going to walk me home?" she asked, incredulous.
"You're a grown-up," I replied.
"It's dark. A lady shouldn't walk alone at night," she insisted.
"It's Merston. Nothing ever happens in Merston," I sighed.
"And what if something happens? You would be blamed for that," she kind of threatened me.
"Alright, let's go, but hurry up please," I gave in as I turned in the street she had indicated.
"I'm sorry for what I did earlier. I did not want to make you uncomfortable. It's just, I really like you and I thought maybe you needed some comfort. The kind of comfort all the soldiers ask around here. I was wrong, I'm sorry," she apologised.
"I told you I'm married. You shouldn't have tried that," I explained.
"I know, but most of the pilots around here are married and it doesn't prevent them from seeking comfort somewhere else," she observed.
"Well, I'm not like most of the pilots," I used her own words. "I love my wife."
"You're a good man Collins," she said as she stopped in front of a house. "That's where I live," she let me know.
"Then I'll leave you here," I told her as I turned back, but she grabbed my arm to prevent me from leaving too fast.
"Let me thank you," she begged me.
Before I could refuse anything, she had wrapped her arms around my neck to hug me.
"Take care of yourself," she said and kissed me on the cheek.
I thought she would finally let me go but instead she took my face in her hands and kissed me by surprise. I pushed her back, repelled by the sensation of her lips on mine, and the satisfied smile I discovered on her face made me sick.
"What's wrong with you?" I snapped at her with disgust and left as quickly as possible.
"She's not there, she'll never know," she tried to hold me back. She was right, she wasn't there, but I would never do that to her.
*
It was a beautiful morning to be alive, I thought as I put the washing out on the small balcony. The sunny weather reflected my mood, for my talk with my father a few days ago had helped me a lot to overcome my sadness. I was looking at life very differently thanks to his wise words. I just had to be patient and confident, and everything would be fine. Sometimes, letting go was the best thing you could do.
As I stepped back inside my bedroom with the empty washing basket in my arms, I heard noise coming from the living room.
"Freya?" I heard a voice call me. "Love, are you there?"
I let the basket fall to the floor and ran through the corridor to reach the front of the flat and discover Andrew in the hall, his duffle bag at his side. The way his eyes sparkled when he saw me made my heart flutter. I jumped into his arms and squealed with joy at seeing him there. I had no idea he was coming back and it was the best surprise he could have ever given me. He held me firmly as I wrapped my legs around his waist and avidly pressed my lips against his. How good it felt to taste him again, to touch him again, to be his again. He laughed with happiness at my energetic display of affection and tightened his embrace around me.
"Hello my love," he said as I gazed in his stunning eyes I had missed so much.
"Hi," I answered, a big smile on my face.
"You're so beautiful," he praised me, causing me to blush with pleasure before kissing him again.
"I couldn't have dreamt of a better welcome," he joked as he put me down. "It's so good to be back."
I could not stop looking at him and he could not either. We were just two kids stupidly in love.
"You look tired," I observed, a bit worried about the huge dark rings under his eyes.
"That's why I'm here," he informed me. "My superiors ordered me to have some rest."
He took his jacket off and hung it in the hall before taking me with him to the kitchen.
"I'm so hungry," he exclaimed as he opened the cupboards to look for something to eat, but there was not much for him.
"How many days did they give you?" I asked.
"Two. Today, tomorrow, and I have to go back the day after tomorrow," he explained. After some hesitation, he finally decided to go for an apple and took a bite before looking at me with blissful eyes. Two days were not much, but I was so happy to have him back.
*
I had missed his face so much. He hadn't changed a bit apart from his weary features, he had not aged. Having him back in my life had made me forget everything about the pain I had felt during the previous months. Nothing else mattered but him and his happiness. That was the power of love. Accepting to suffer for months to be able to enjoy two blissful days before suffering again. But on that day, in that park, settled against that tree, my husband having a nap his head rested on my lap, I was content. All I wanted was for him to rest as much as possible before going back to his base for I was worried about his health and his capacity to stay safe.
I had closed my book and was observing Jane and his children playing in the grass a bit further when Andrew, shaken with tremors, suddenly woke up. He was gasping for air and looking at me with fear in his eyes, completely lost, wondering where he could be. I reached for his cheek and stroke it as I tried to reassure him:
"Andrew, hey, I'm here. I'm right here."
My voice somehow managed to appease him and his breathing settled.
"Another nightmare?" I asked.
He nodded.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I carefully questioned him.
"It's just..." he paused. "Just the usual thing. I'm shot down and I can't get out of my plane and I crash. I'm tired. I'm constantly tired. I just want to sleep."
He lay down again but this time, he wrapped his arms around me and pressed his face against my stomach as if seeking some protection.
"Talk to me, please. I need to hear your voice. Just let me hear your voice," he begged me.
"Yes, I'm here," I answered. "I won't leave you, I promise," I said as I stroke his hair to soothe him.
"Thank you," he mumbled.
And as I saw him close his eyes again, I improvised a song, a sort of lullaby, something to bring him peace. I did not care if it sounded stupid, it did not to me, not it this moment.
"Stay with me, stay in my arms,
Here it's safe, here you're free,
Here's where I love you, where I'll always be."
His chest rising and falling steadily encouraged me to go on.
"Close your eyes and rest your mind,
Planes are birds and nobody dies.
Please stay with me, stay in my arms,
Forget the world, forget the bad.
Here it's safe, you're with me,
It's only love, just you and me.
Forget the war, forget the fights,
It's just the sun and only light.
Lay in the grass, stay in my arms,
I'm next to you, there's no harm.
Here it's safe, here you're free,
Here it's safe, you're with me."
By the time I had reached the end of my song, he had fallen asleep again. His breathing was shallow, calm, he was finally at peace. I took my book and went back to my reading, my free hand still playing with his blond locks so he knew I was still there. He probably slept during a whole hour like that, not even disturbed by a nightmare. It was a relief for the both of us. When his blue eyes met mine when he woke up, they were free from any concern.
"You'll have to sing to me every time," he told me.
"I'll do my best," I sincerely replied.
*
After our afternoon outside, we had come back to our flat, with Jane and her children. Charles had grown up so much, he was much taller and heavier than when I had left and I now struggled to lift him in my arms to play.
"Did you miss your awesome uncle Andy?" I asked him as I ruffled his hair to bother him.
"A bit," he answered.
I was about to reply to him when someone knocked on the main door.
"I'm going," Freya told me as she left the kitchen where we had all settled.
"How come, just a bit?" I looked at Charles and feigned to be hurt.
"Yes, mama told me I should not talk about missing you in front of Freya because it would make her sad," he said with genuine innocence. "Right Mum?" he asked my sister.
I was not expecting such answer, and it left me speechless.
"Yes Charles, that's right," Jane told her son as she pressed him against her before turning to me. "Sorry," she apologised.
"It's fine," I reassured her. "I understand."
I walked to wait for Freya at the door of the kitchen, but she was nowhere to be seen.
"Is she doing okay?" I asked my sister. "I mean... When I'm not here, is she okay?"
She probably saw the worry in my eyes for she hurried to reply:
"Yes! Yes, she is. She's strong most of the time. And we're here for her."
"Thank you for taking care of her," I sincerely expressed before turning to Freya who was coming back.
"Who was it?" I asked and smiled warmly at her, but the way she angrily looked at me gave me chills. I understood I was in trouble, but for what, I had no idea.
As she reached me, she strongly pressed a piece of paper against my chest and said:
"'I don't force you to stay with me'. Really?"
And suddenly it came back to me. The letter I had sent her shortly before going home had arrived. I had completely forgotten about it.
"Wait, Freya," I tried to hold her back, but she had already left the room.
I turned to Jane with despair and discovered that everyone was silently looking at me.
"I..." I tried to explain. "I need to..." I pointed out to where Freya had left.
Jane nodded before lifting Rose in her arms.
"Yes, don't worry, go," she told me. "Charles, come, we're leaving."
I gave her a smile to thank her and quickly left to look for my wife. She was not in the living room, nor in the bathroom or in the spare room. It was when I entered our bedroom that I finally found her, pacing up and down before the bed, biting her nails. She immediately moved towards me when she saw me, but stopped just far enough so I could not reach for her hand to try to calm her. She was so agitated, I did not know what to do to make amends.
"Do you mean it?" she finally asked, her voice harsh with anger.
"Love, please, let me—" I tried to ask her to listen to me without success.
"Do you mean what you wrote in that letter?" she raised her voice.
"No," I admitted. "It's stupid."
"Then why did you write it?"
"I can't bear to make you sad," I explained.
"Did you think telling me this would make me feel better?" she rightly showed the absurdity of my action.
"You're unhappy because of me. I thought that if you realised you could be happier without me, you would leave me and find happiness with someone else," I told her as I looked at the letter in my hands.
"I married you knowing it would be hard. But it was my choice!"
"But do you know how it hurts to read that you're unhappy alone here in London?" I asked her. "Do you know how I felt when you told me how sad you are? If... If I had not seduced you, if I had not asked you to marry me, you would still be with Lewis and you'll be happier, because you would have your husband with you. But I'm the worst husband ever. I'm never here for you!"
"No, don't say that," she stopped me as she approached me. "I was unhappy with Lewis, but with you I'm happy!"
She took my face in her soft hands and went on: "I'm sorry I complained in my letter. I'm really sorry I made it harder for you, it was selfish. But I'll never leave you. I love you."
"But what good is there for you in loving someone you never see?"
"We knew how it would be, and we both made the decision to follow our heart. I don't regret anything. I married a hero."
"I'm not a hero, I don't want to be one. I just want to be a husband and live a simple life by your side..."
"We will. I promise. It will soon end, and you'll come back to me, and I'll be waiting for you."
I avoided her eyes, incapable of feeling relieved.
"What's wrong?" she asked with concern.
I left her arms to go sit on the bed and I finally dared look at her.
"I'm scared," I confessed.
"Andrew..." she softly pronounced my name, fearing what my next words would be.
"I feel like something bad is going to happen," I expressed my feelings, those I had kept to myself for too long. "All of my mates have died or something bad happened to them. I'll be next, I can feel it."
"No, no, no! Don't say that," she refused to let me speak. "Something already happened to you, remember?"
"But it was nothing! I got lucky!" I corrected her.
"It wasn't nothing! You could have died!" she took offence.
"No, I was fine. It was nothing," I insisted.
"Nothing bad will happen to you. Don't think like that. You'll be okay," she told me as she sat next to me and took my hand in her.
I leant forward and pressed my head to her heart to seek comfort.
"It can't go on like that forever, I'll run out of luck. Something will happen," I thought out loud.
"No," she told me off. "You've got my sparrow, nothing bad can happen to you," she tried to reassure me as she took me in her arms. If only it was that easy.
-
Thank you for reading this chapter till the end because it's a very long one (i hope you don't mind).
Things might appear a bit repetitive in this story at the moment but I swear, it's going to change. One more chapter and then things will spice up. You're not ready 😏
Let me know what you think about this one! I hope you liked it as much as I liked writing it.
And again, thank you for your comments and votes xx