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  ‘Only for a few minutes, but Jack didn’t. That’s why he wouldn’t carry on. It only started with him giving me a goodbye kiss, and it sort of got out of hand after that, until Jack called a halt.’ The girl hesitated, then made up her mind that she may as well confess everything. ‘I love Jack, too.’

  Pursing her lips, Anne gave a low whistle. ‘You’ve really got your life in a muddle, haven’t you? I used to wish, years ago, that you’d fall in love with Jack, but . . .’

  Renee sighed. ‘I was in love with Jack years ago, but he wouldn’t admit that he loved me. I guessed he did, from little things he said, but he never came right out with it. He told me, that night in the lane, that he always believed I’d never get over Fergus.’

  ‘He knew about you and Fergus, did he?’ Anne seemed surprised.

  ‘He knew all along, ever since it started, really, and Fergus had boasted to him about . . . me, and told him to keep off. Anyway, I told him I’d have married him if he’d asked me before he was called up.’

  ‘Your love life’s been one long mix-up, then?’ Anne’s smile was a little crooked.

  ‘I suppose it has. I thought Jack didn’t love me, and I went mad amongst the boys for a while.’

  ‘I remember,’ Anne said, dryly.

  ‘And then Fred Schaper brought Glynn here and I fell in love with him.’ Renee’s face suddenly crumpled. ‘Now Glynn’s missing, Fred’s been killed, and I don’t know what’s happened to Jack.’ She sobbed loudly, and her mother let her weep. It was the best antidote for the shock she’d just received, and for all the worry she had gone through previously. When she calmed down, Renee said, quietly, ‘You must despise me for all the awful things I’ve done.’

  Anne shook her head. ‘I pity you. You made your own life a misery for most of the time.’

  ‘I know. I’ve been very stupid, haven’t I?’

  ‘You should have told me about the trouble you and Glynn were having. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything, but you’d have felt better, not bottling it all up. I’m glad everything’s out in the open now . . . I suppose it is all out?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ The girl summoned up a watery smile. ‘There’s no more skeletons in the cupboard.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that . . . Could you eat something now, do you think, seeing you’ve got everything off your chest?’

  ‘You know, I believe I could.’

  Anne insisted on sleeping with her daughter that night.

  ‘Just so I’ll know you’re all right,’ she explained.

  Renee’s emotions had been ripped apart since she had read the fateful letter, and when she became tearful her mother tried to comfort her as best she could.

  ‘You’ve come through quite a lot in your life, you’ll come through this, too. Once Glynn comes back, you’ll be able to laugh at yourself for worrying so much.’

  ‘If he comes back,’ Renee whispered.

  ‘Yes, he’ll come back. He’s all right, I tell you. Now, go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.’

  Anne slipped out of bed quietly next day, to let Renee sleep on. They would understand in the office if she didn’t go in today. It was ten past twelve before the girl made her appearance downstairs.

  ‘Why didn’t you waken me, Mum?’

  ‘You needed the rest. I was going to shout to you when the dinner was ready. It’ll be about half an hour yet. Would you like a cup of tea while we’re waiting?’

  ‘Yes, please. My mouth feels like it’s got half Aberdeen Beach in it.’ Anne laughed, pleased that Renee could joke a little. She was definitely going to see it through.

  As year-long week succeeded year-long week, with no word about either Glynn or Jack, Renee tried to appear cheerful, although all hope was fading fast within her. At last, almost three months after Glynn had been reported missing, she received notification that he had been seriously wounded, and was now in a hospital in England.

  ‘Thank God!’ she murmured, through dry lips. ‘At least he’s alive.’

  ‘I told you.’ Anne was smiling as they turned and hugged each other.

  ‘He must be very bad, though, or else he’d have written to me himself,’ Renee said anxiously, after a few minutes.

  ‘He’ll write as soon as he can,’ her mother comforted her. The Allies were now forging ahead in Europe, and the wireless and newspaper reports gave some hope that the war would soon be at an end, and the two women, like millions of others, were happier than they had been for some time.

  They were very pleased when Tim Donaldson called one evening, with Moira, to let them know that he was home. His hands were still bandaged, but the doctors were apparently satisfied with the way they were healing.

  ‘He nearly lost his right hand, you know.’ Moira could talk about it calmly, now that it was clear that such a calamity would never occur.

  ‘The operations and grafts were all successful,’ Tim told them, ‘but I’ve to attend Outpatients here once a week for a while.’

  ‘That’s good news.’ Anne beamed at them. ‘I’m very happy for you both.’

  ‘Me, too,’ added Renee. ‘And I hope it’s not long till Glynn can write and tell me how he’s doing.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve heard from him?’ Moira had been afraid to ask.

  ‘No, he hasn’t been able to write himself yet, but I had notification that he was wounded, that’s all I know.’

  ‘But you know he’s not missing any longer. That’s good.’ Moira laid her hand on Renee’s.

  ‘Is there any word of a house for you two yet?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I nearly forgot to tell you.’ Moira giggled. ‘I found a small flat to let in Chapel Street, just two rooms, with the lavatory on the stairs, but it’s very nice. We’re starting to buy furniture and things, and I suppose it’ll take a while before we get everything as we want it.’

  ‘I should be able to help with the decorating once they give me the all-clear at the hospital,’ Tim said.

  Anne laughed. ‘You don’t know what you’re taking on. We painted and stippled the two bedrooms a few weeks back, and it was some job, wasn’t it, Renee?’

  ‘You can say that again.’ The girl had actually been very glad of the task to help take her mind off her worries.

  ‘How’s Mike? Has Babs heard from him lately?’

  Tim nodded. ‘She gets letters occasionally, not much in them, of course, but at least he’s still writing. She worries about him a lot.’

  ‘I know what it’s like,’ Renee said with feeling.

  As they were leaving, Tim said, ‘Is there any word of Jack Thomson yet? Moira said you hadn’t heard from him for a long time.’

  Anne glanced at her daughter, then answered for her.

  ‘No, there’s nothing yet.’

  Tim looked thoughtful. ‘I’d have thought his mother would have let you know if anything had happened to him. After all, he lodged here for years.’

  ‘That did cross my mind,’ Anne said slowly. ‘But it’s nearly four years since he was called up, and she maybe thinks we’re not interested now.’

  ‘He came to see you when he was on leave, so she must know you’d want to hear about him. Well, we’ll have to be off. You’ll let us know when you hear from Glynn, Renee? And from Jack?’

  When Anne came back from seeing them out, she said,

  ‘Tim’s looking quite well, considering. Moira’ll just have to feed him up.’

  ‘He made me think, though.’ Renee took the writing pad from the top drawer of the sideboard. ‘I’m going to write to Jack’s mother, to see if she knows anything about him.’

  ‘I’d better do it.’ Anne grabbed the pad and sat down at the card table. ‘It wouldn’t look right if you did it, being a married woman. Have you your fountain-pen handy?’

  Renee rummaged in her handbag to find it, and they composed th
e letter together – a short note, couched in gentle terms, not to cause Mrs Thomson needless worry or grief.

  ‘I’m not too sure about this,’ Anne observed, after she licked the flap of the envelope. ‘I wondered about doing it before, but I thought I’d better not. Jack’s maybe trying to be honourable by not writing to another man’s wife, especially after he’s told her he loves her.’

  ‘He wouldn’t stop writing because of that.’ Renee’s mouth set in a thin, obstinate line.

  ‘He knew how you felt about him, but he knows you still love Glynn, so he could have thought he was betraying Glynn if he kept on writing to you, reminding you.’

  ‘I suppose that’s the decent kind of thing Jack would think,’ Renee admitted. ‘But I still want to know about him.’

  Mrs Thomson replied by return post. She’d heard from Jack up until about six weeks ago, telling her that he was quite well and not to worry.

  Her letter went on:

  Thank you for your concern for my son, because I am worrying about him now, it’s been so long since I heard. I’ll let you know as soon as I get a letter, to set your mind at rest. Jack was very happy when he lodged with you, he was always speaking about you and your daughter. I hope her husband recovers quickly from his wounds. Thank you for looking after Jack so well when he was working in Aberdeen, and God grant he comes home safely.

  Yours in friendship,

  Wilma Thomson.

  Renee’s hopes had plummetted to rock bottom by the time she reached the end. ‘That’s it, then. His mother was hearing from him, so he must have just stopped writing to me. He must have wanted me to believe he’d been killed.’ Anne chose her next words carefully. ‘It might be best for you and Glynn if Jack didn’t come back.’

  Renee gasped with horror. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say! How could you, Mum? I thought you liked him.’

  ‘I do like him. I love him like a son, but . . . life’s not going to be easy for him, or for you, if he comes back to Aberdeen after the war. You’d have to make a complete break with him, otherwise it wouldn’t be fair to Glynn.’

  ‘I realise that.’ Renee spoke slowly. ‘It’s something that’s been torturing me for quite a while. I worry about it, but I wouldn’t wish him dead.’

  ‘I wasn’t wishing him dead,’ Anne snapped. ‘That’s not what I meant at all.’

  ‘It sounded like it to me,’ the girl said, pettishly.

  ‘Listen, Renee. His own mother hasn’t heard from him for weeks now, and it’s a possibility you’ll have to face. You know, you weren’t being fair to Jack that night. He’d already accepted that you were married to somebody else, and that he’d lost you, but you gave him new, false hope.’

  ‘I didn’t plan it,’ Renee protested. ‘It just happened.’

  ‘I suppose it was mostly my fault for telling you to go to the bus with him.’ Anne had been regretting that suggestion ever since her daughter had told her what transpired.

  When Glynn Williams did write, at last, it gave his young wife further cause to worry, about more than the ominous shakiness of his hand.

  I was unconscious in a French hospital for weeks after they found me, apparently. My leg was shattered, but they’re speaking about fixing me up with a new one if things don’t work out right. I couldn’t write before, because my right arm was wounded, too, and by the time I was sent to England, I wondered if it would be best to let you carry on thinking I was dead.

  I asked a nurse to write to my mother, and the next thing I knew, Mam had sent Eiddwen to cheer me up. This place is only about an hour’s journey from Porthcross.

  ‘Damn his mother!’ Renee exclaimed, in the middle of reading the letter out loud. ‘She wants to split us up.’

  ‘How on earth do you make that out?’ Anne sounded mystified. ‘She was only sending somebody to visit him. She maybe didn’t feel up to going herself.’

  ‘She hadn’t wanted to go herself. She was disappointed that Glynn didn’t marry Eiddwen, and she’s trying to get them together.’

  Anne sighed, but said, ‘Go on. What else does he say?’ Renee bent over the letter again.

  I was very glad to see her, and I told her what I’d been thinking, but she said I wasn’t being fair to you and made me write. I hope you haven’t been too upset, never hearing from me for so long, but I’m still undergoing a lot of treatment, and my innermost thoughts are all jumbled up. I don’t want you to come here, because I really couldn’t face seeing you just yet.

  The girl looked up again. ‘He’s been able to face seeing Eiddwen again, though.’

  ‘He’d no choice about that,’ Anne said gently. ‘Does he say anything else?’

  Renee glanced down quickly. ‘‘‘I hope you are keeping well. Love, Glynn.’’ That’s all.’

  ‘At least he’s sent his love,’ Anne pointed out.

  Renee remembered Bill Scroggie saying that most men found it easy to end a letter by writing ‘love’, when she had told him about Tim and Jack writing to her. She kept the thought to herself, and agreed with her mother, rather reluctantly, when Anne said that she would have to await developments.

  On the 8th May 1945, just a few days later, the war in Europe came to an end, and both women wept at the welcome news, but it was another three long weeks before Glynn Williams wrote again. His handwriting was steadier, and he told her first about some of the treatment he was receiving.

  Then he went on: ‘Eiddwen has been very good. She comes nearly every second evening, and she’s a great tonic. I don’t know how I would have coped with all this, if she hadn’t been around.’

  Renee let the pages drop to the table. ‘I can see what’s happening, you know. He’s falling in love with her all over again. That’s what she wants, and so does his mother.’

  Anne’s eyes were full of sympathy. ‘Just think, though. Wouldn’t you rush to help an old boyfriend if he was wounded and in hospital near you, hundreds of miles from his wife? You’d do it for Jack, if he was in that position, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘That’s different. I love Jack.’

  ‘That girl more than likely loves Glynn.’

  Her daughter was silent, considering this, then admitted to herself that it was probably true. ‘If I knew Jack was in hospital somewhere, I’d go to him straight away,’ she said at last. ‘Like I’d have gone to Glynn, if he’d let me.’

  ‘Yes, Glynn was wrong in telling you not to go.’ Anne’s tone suggested that she was angry with her son-in-law for causing this extra, unnecessary suffering to his wife. ‘A man in his physical and mental state could easily imagine he’s in love with the person showing him care and devotion. Does he give any explanation?’

  Renee carried on reading aloud.

  I’ve told Eiddwen how much I loved you, still love you, and she understands. I’m telling you, now, how much I loved Eiddwen, how much I love her again. I hope you can bring yourself to understand and forgive.

  Believe me, my dear, this is the best way. It wouldn’t work with us. I can’t forget that terrible scene on our wedding night, for I touched the depths of Hell. I never recovered, and I made your life a hell with the way I behaved afterwards.

  Our marriage was never normal, and I think the burning anger and jealousy which was with me on that first night would return to haunt me over the years if we were together. I loved Eiddwen long before I met you, and she made one misjudgement, which I can freely forgive. My life with her could be happy and carefree, but I haven’t said one word of this to her, and I don’t intend to unless you agree to divorce me.

  I want to marry her, so please consider this carefully. Put all the blame on me, and try not to think harshly of . . .

  Glynn.

  Renee heaved a shuddering sigh when she laid the letter on the table, her hand trembling in agitation.

  ‘You’ll divorce him, of course?’ Anne eyed her keenly.

 
‘Why should I? That girl’s not going to get my husband.’

  ‘Not even if your husband wants that girl, not you?’

  ‘No! I’ve suffered enough, Mum.’ The girl’s face had tightened.

  ‘He was in love with her when Fred took him here first,’ Renee reminded her. ‘He maybe never got over her. He saw her when he went to Porthcross after we were married, remember? The time I was supposed to be going with him, but Sheila broke her leg and I couldn’t go. And he likely saw her every time he popped up there when he had short passes before D-Day.’

  ‘It’s more or less the same with you and Jack Thomson,’ Anne observed, quietly.

  The girl paused. ‘Yes, I never thought of it like that. I’m the pot calling the kettle black, you mean?’

  ‘Exactly, and you’ll have to forget about Jack, or accept it if Glynn decides he loves this girl more than he loves you.’

  ‘I’m going to lose both of them. I can feel it.’ Renee’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Something must have happened to Jack, when there’s been no word from him or his mother.’ The girl’s doubts about Glynn were to be answered when he wrote the next time.

  Renee,

  Reading between the lines in your last letter, I can tell that you’re jealous of Eiddwen. I wish I could say you’re mistaken, but you’re not. I’ve turned this over and over in my mind, because I knew I was going to hurt one of you whatever I did, and I’m sorry that it has to be you.

  ‘I’m sorry, too, Renee,’ Anne murmured, ‘but you have been expecting it, haven’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so, but it’s not a nice feeling to think that you’re about to be thrown away like yesterday’s newspaper.’ Anne raised her eyebrows. ‘He’ll never come back to you, even if you don’t divorce him.’

  ‘She’s not going to have him.’ Renee gripped her mouth.