A New Beginning Read online

  A New Beginning

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Copyright

  A New Beginning

  Grace Thompson

  One

  Sophie Daniels shrugged on her WAAF overcoat and reached down for her small case. ‘It doesn’t seem much to be taking home for the weekend of your wedding,’ she said to her friend. Daphne reached for her own bag, which was even smaller.

  ‘I just hope your mother has the dresses ready, or we’re going to be in church, smiling at the vicar in our airforce blue.’

  ‘I did think of marrying in uniform, but Geoffrey didn’t like the idea. After all, the war is almost over, isn’t it?’

  ‘Never over until the last battle is won and we’re still fighting, and dying, remember.’

  ‘But we’ve got the Germans on the run, haven’t we, the Siegfried Line is broken and the town of Nancy is freed. And the rumours about a new rocket attack on London might be just that, a rumour.’

  ‘They’re calling it a V2, and although the government have tried to hush it up they can no longer pretend it’s gas mains exploding.’

  ‘Come on, Daphne, why would they lie?’

  ‘So the enemy won’t know where the weapons are going to land and change their direction, of course.’

  ‘I know, of course I know, it’s just that my whole family live in the east end of London so I prefer to pretend it isn’t happening.’ Sophie stared at her friend. ‘They’ve survived this far and I can’t bear to think of losing one of them now.’

  They had a lift to the station in one of the lorries taking some airmen on leave, and they managed to get seats next to each other on the train to London. Daphne wore her dark hair tucked tightly underneath her cap and was looking forward to allowing it to fall freely when dressing for her friend’s wedding. With her large features and being above average in height and strongly built, and with her uniform adding to her imposing stature, she was aware of appearing ‘mannish’ and longed for the opportunity to remind people that she was truly feminine, despite her impressive measurements.

  Thank goodness the strong-willed Sophie wasn’t going to have her way about marrying in uniform. There were few chances to dress up in these austere days; even dances were scarce and usually last-minute affairs, forcing them to go in uniform or not at all. Wearing a dress, letting hair escape from the dreaded hat: a wedding was too good an opportunity to waste!

  Sophie was much smaller than Daphne and, being extremely fair, seemed fragile beside her friend. They had met on their first posting, at an airfield in Lincolnshire, and had been friends ever since. Their various moves had separated them, but the most recent, to an airfield in the south-east corner of England, had reunited them. Now Daphne was to be Sophie’s bridesmaid at a small wedding in the east of London.

  Her lilting Welsh seemed incongruous given their destination. Sophie’s father had been sent to a factory in London to be the ‘chaser’, making sure the workers on the benches were kept supplied with the materials they needed. With no sign of the war ending in the near future, the family, including his wife’s parents, had moved with him, and had been welcomed into the East London community with warmth and friendship.

  When they reached London, they stopped for a cup of tea and a ‘wad’ – a cake – at the Naafi canteen on the station, then struggled through the crowds to the underground. Reaching daylight from the underground station, Daphne was shocked at the scene that met them. Living in a small town in mid-Wales she was not prepared for the result of the bombing, even though the newsreels at the cinema had shown it many times. Whole streets had vanished, rubble piled up where houses had once contained families.

  ‘I’d no idea it was this bad,’ she gasped. ‘You see pictures in papers and magazines, but some how it doesn’t seem real.’

  ‘Mam and Dad refuse to leave and they wouldn’t let my young brother and sister go into the country as evacuees. We were among the lucky ones – our house hasn’t even been damaged.’

  Daphne stared around her at the destroyed streets and the people busily picking their way through what was left. The population seemed to be going about their tasks calmly, waving to friends, stopping for a brief chat, carrying on as though life hadn’t changed. A partially boarded-up newsagents was open for business according to the sign outside the tunnel-like entrance. She heard someone shout, ‘They got some fags in,’ and all within hearing ran to get a share, pushing their way in good humouredly, taking out their purses and counting what they had left.

  ‘Aren’t you afraid for them?’ Daphne whispered.

  ‘Of course, but Hitler isn’t going to kill everyone, is he? There’ll still be Londoners and houses for them to live in.’ She spoke cheerfully, confident that her family would be safe. ‘After all, they’ve survived so far and the flying bombs no longer fly across. Our airforce and gunners put a stop to that threat, and it’s only a matter of time now before this new menace is dealt with.’ She laughed, encouraging Daphne to laugh with her.

  Daphne walked along beside her, a feeling of dread in her heart. Surely it was tempting fate to be so confident?

  ‘Is it much further?’ she asked. ‘I’m desperate for another cup of tea.’ She slowed down, still filled with dread, looking around at the ruined houses, the broken walls piled up, the dangers removed with any remnants of what had once been loved homes. The roads and pavements had been cleared, the rubble pushed back to allow the continuation of everyday life. She was afraid of their arriving to find Sophie’s home gone, like so many others. How could anything survive in this?

  ‘Come on, Daph, stop staring at the disasters and come and meet my family,’ Sophie said more soberly. ‘They’ll make us forget the hell of it all, for a few days at least.’

  The house in which the Daniels family lived was in a small road miraculously untouched by the bombing. On the corner was a lock-up grocery shop owned by her grandparents, which they had taken over soon after leaving South Wales. They lived on the other side of a small park close by, where trees were wearing their autumn colours and shrubs still displayed a few flowers.

  The front door of Sophie’s home was open and voices rose and fell from within, punctuated with bursts of laughter. Sophie strode inside with Daphne following, pushing through the chattering neighbours, the women mostly dressed in aprons and wearing ancient slippers, the men in trousers and waistcoats over shirts with sleeves rolled up.

  ‘Whatcha, Soph.’

  ‘She’s back.’

  ‘She’s here!’

  ‘Here comes the bride.’

  ‘Thank Gawd fer that.’ All around them welcoming voices called, until a laughing Sophie reached the kitchen, where her mother and her Auntie Maggie stood near the cooker, pouring teas.

  ‘What’s this, a celebration?’ she joked.

  ‘Yeh, ain’t you heard? ’Itler’s dead. Or darn well soon will be.’ Surrounded by joking and teasing, being welcomed by the family, friends and neighbours, the shouts were interspersed by a confusion of introductions, including Sophie’s younger brother and sister, Carrie and Frank, and the rest of her family.

  Daphne sank into a chair. Sophie was in high spirits, returning slick responses to the chorus of saucy innuendo, and Daphne sat nursing her tea, taking in the excitement and everyone’s determination to make Sophie’s
wedding a good time for all.

  ‘When’s your bloke arriving?’ someone asked.

  ‘Soon.’

  ‘Where’s ’e stayin’?’

  ‘I phoned from the station. He’s staying with a friend near the place where we’re to go on honeymoon. He won’t tell me exactly where.’

  ‘Well, it won’t be Paris, that’s for sure,’ Auntie Maggie said, adding lugubriously, ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Paris.’

  ‘He’s travelling up tomorrow but we won’t meet until we get to the church,’ Sophie replied. ‘Unlucky to meet before the wedding or something, isn’t it?’

  ‘Luck? You’ve got plenty of that, me duck. A happy life, that’s what’s ahead of you and that feller of yours,’ one of the neighbours called out.

  ‘How many of Geoffrey’s family are coming?’ her grandmother asked, and Daphne glanced at her friend with some anxiety.

  ‘Oh, none. They’re all tied up with war work, you know how it is. Lincolnshire they’re from. I’ll be meeting them on our next leave.’

  ‘You mean you haven’t met them? None of them?’

  Daphne jumped up and put an arm across Sophie’s shoulders. ‘She’s marrying Geoffrey, not his family!’ She tried to make it into a joke but only a few were amused.

  Sophie agreed with her. ‘This is wartime, even though we’ve got Hitler on the run. Nothing is straightforward, is it? Travel difficulties for a start, and you can’t just take a holiday from work when you want one.’

  ‘But you ought to see where he’s from, dear,’ Auntie Maggie said with a frown. ‘I though you went there a few weeks ago?’

  ‘No, it was cancelled at the last minute. As I said, everyone is so busy.’

  *

  Sophie and Daphne shared a bed in what had been Sophie’s room, and when the light went out, Daphne asked, ‘You are sure, aren’t you? I mean, I know everything’s arranged but it isn’t too late to, um, delay it for a while.’

  ‘I know what I’m doing, Daph. I didn’t force Geoffrey into proposing or arranging for such a quick wedding.’

  ‘But not meeting his family, don’t you think it’s rather odd? After all, you planned to visit on three weekends, and each time it was cancelled without much of an explanation.’

  ‘Tell the truth, I think he might be a bit embarrassed by them. He’s met my family and, although he hasn’t exactly said it, I think he comes from a different kind of background and, well, he might be afraid I’d change my mind if I saw where they live. Don’t worry, Daph, we love each other and we’ll be blissfully happy, I just know we will.’

  ‘As long as you’re sure.’ Daphne had her doubts. Sophie was enthusiastic about everything she did, pushing her way through objections and doubts, absolutely confident she was right, and she wondered if her enthusiasm really was matched by Geoffrey Roberts. It was odd that she hadn’t met his family. Surely he’d have been proud, and would want to show his family his lovely bride-to-be?

  ‘I’m certain, certain, sure,’ Sophie breathed, as she relaxed into sleep.

  *

  The next day there were errands to do, making sure everything was in place for the ceremony on the following day, but Sophie’s mother had organized everything so well, they felt superfluous.

  ‘Let’s go for a bike ride,’ Sophie suggested, and on the bicycles belonging to her sister and brother, which were really too small, they set off to ride through the streets to call on one or two of Sophie’s friends.

  Singing at the tops of their voices, they rode past many undamaged houses and Sophie waved an arm imperiously. ‘See? Lots of places untouched.’ She remained silent as they went through roofless buildings where survivors had defiantly hung union flags on what was left of their homes.

  Sophie only sees and hears what she wants to see and hear, Daphne thought. But perhaps that’s her way of coping, knowing her family is in great danger, she comforts herself with her over-confidence. She was always so sure about everything, coming up with answers to everyone’s problem within seconds and never deviating from what she saw as a simple answer. Heaven help her if she ever made a serious error! Daphne’s thoughts had slowed her feet and Sophie was way in front of her.

  ‘Come on, slowcoach,’ Sophie called. ‘Get cracking, you’ve got the best bike.’ Daphne raced after her, her strong muscles pushing down on the pedals, swiftly leaving her friend behind. Around the next corner she stopped and waited. ‘Did someone say something about a slowcoach?’ she asked, laughing at her friend’s efforts to catch up.

  That evening, with the house filled to overflowing with neighbours and friends helping to prepare the food for the following day’s celebration, Daphne saw that her friend seemed a little subdued. Sophie was always in the centre of things, her bubbling personality a magnet for anyone wanting fun. Seeing her standing in the hallway alone, staring out into the dark of the September night, she offered, ‘A penny for your thoughts.’

  ‘Oh, nothing really, just dreaming of tomorrow when I’ll be a married woman.’

  ‘And…?’ Daphne coaxed.

  ‘And nothing, although I did expect a letter yesterday or today. He promised to write to me and, well, I suppose something came up and he couldn’t get out to post it. He’ll explain, in –’ she glanced at her watch – ‘in just over twelve hours.’

  ‘Is there somewhere you can phone? I mean, you must want to talk to him, you haven’t seen him for a week.’

  ‘I could ring his friend where he’ll be staying, the one who will be his best man, but I won’t.’

  ‘Go on, you know you’re dying to hear his voice.’

  They left the house and, in the telephone box on the corner, both squashed in like excited children, Sophie asked for the number, then waited while the operator connected her. Her greeting was bright but her expression, barely seen in the gloom of the late hour, suddenly changed to a frown. ‘But I don’t understand. You must know where he is. The wedding is tomorrow and he’s supposed to be there with you.’ There was a gasp, a wide-eyed stare, and the phone was replaced. She pushed out of the box and waited for Daphne to join her outside.

  ‘I must have got it wrong, he isn’t aware of any wedding. I – I misunderstood. Got the name wrong. Geoffrey’s best man must be another of his friends. There are so many, with people constantly moving about, coming and going. I must have misunderstood.’

  ‘Of course,’ Daphne soothed. ‘At least you’ll know who he’s chosen tomorrow. Just a few hours to go and you’ll be able to sort out all the mysteries.’ But she was worried. It wasn’t natural for them not be in contact so close to their wedding.

  *

  The day of the wedding was bright, with a slight crispness that hinted at the approach of autumn. Sophie was awake early and she and Daphne crept down to make a cup of tea, only to find Auntie Maggie and her father and mother already there, teapot at the ready.

  ‘Want a fried egg for breakfast?’ Sophie’s mum asked, and, surprised at the generosity, they both said yes. Mrs Daniels took a slice of white bread and placed it in a frying pan. She cut a circle from the middle into which she poured reconstituted dried egg mixture and proceeded to fry it. ‘A pretend egg is better than none,’ she explained airily.

  ‘You don’t have a pretend rasher of bacon, do you?’ Daphne asked.

  ‘No, but I can draw you one!’

  With so many hours to fill before they had to leave for the church, Daphne suggested a walk. They wandered through the streets, where shoppers hurried around with empty baskets that they were hoping to fill. There were queues everywhere, and people joined them and only then asked what was on offer when they reached the end.

  The women all looked tired but their laughter rang out as they exchanged stories of their difficult lives. ‘Imagine having to feed the two of us on what the ration books provide,’ Sophie said as they watched a grocer in Liptons weigh out the tiny allowances of fats and cheese.

  ‘If it were me I’d stay in the WAAFs until food is no longer rationed,
’ Daphne said. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for home-making later. I wouldn’t even know how to cook fatless this and eggless that!’

  *

  There was no transport for the guests, most of whom were local – they had to walk. There were just two black cars booked, one to take Sophie and her father, and the other for Daphne and Mrs Daniels.

  The church was unevenly filled, with no one from the groom’s side, so a few of the congregation moved across and filled the front pews. There was no organ music, but the choir of elderly men sang and filled the emptiness while they waited for the bride. Daphne stood in the porch waiting for the first sight of the car, and Mrs Daniels and close family stood with her.

  ‘Where the ’ell’s the groom?’ Auntie Maggie whispered, and Uncle Albert hushed her urgently.

  Ten minutes passed, the bride’s car had driven through the battered street three times and there was no sign of Geoffrey. Eyes followed every vehicle that went past and tried to hide their disappointment when he didn’t appear.

  Finally the car carrying Sophie and her father stopped and Sophie stepped out. In a borrowed white dress and the veil falling charmingly from a pearl-studded head-dress, she looked lovely. ‘What’s happening?’ she demanded. ‘Why do we have to keep going round and round like circus ponies?’

  ‘I told you something was up, him not taking you to meet his family,’ Maggie said, before being hushed by her embarrassed husband.

  ‘He isn’t here yet,’ her mother said quietly. ‘Something must have held him up. The trains aren’t always reliable with all the repairs and everything.’

  Sophie seemed unperturbed. She stood in the porch between her parents, hugging her young sister and brother, glancing along the road occasionally for the appearance of her groom. Her laughter filled the air as she made jokes about the delay, and it was another hour before they gave up expecting him and went back home.

  No one knew what to do, until someone started on the food, and at once Sophie’s mother and Auntie Maggie disappeared into the kitchen to make tea while her father and Uncle Albert began pouring drinks. There was false gaiety as they all filled the embarrassed silences with reminiscences and jokes. Sophie handed out trays of food and Daphne helped serve the drinks, as though there was nothing unusual about the event. Sophie went up at some point to change out of her wedding dress, then she continued to smile and make jokes and pretend to be enjoying the pointless celebration until the last guest had gone. Then she stared at Daphne and said, ‘You tried to warn me, didn’t you?’