Diary Of A War Bride. Lauri Robinson
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GIs.
‘Good to meet you,’ Norman said as he shook Rusty’s hand. ‘You part of those boys buzzing overhead all the time?’
‘Yes, sir, we are,’ Dale said. ‘And we’re here to apologise for startling your daughter earlier. We hope she’s all right.’
The one eye Norman had open took on a sparkle. ‘Kathryn’s a good girl. Quick to anger, but she gets over it just as fast.’ Lowering his voice, he added, ‘It’s the planes. They frighten her, but don’t tell her I told you that.’
Dale had already heard how the planes frightened the locals and chose not to respond to that. ‘I understand the incident caused a loss for your family,’ he said, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. ‘I would like to reimburse you.’
‘Oh, no, no.’ Norman shook his head. ‘That’s not necessary. It was the muddy road. That’s all.’
The house door opened, and though Norman might have suggested that Kathryn got over her anger quickly, the way she marched down the steps said that hadn’t happened today.
Keeping one eye on her, Dale took out several bills. ‘I still feel responsible.’
‘No. No. My wife is putting together a basket that I will drive to the pub. Should have done that in the first place. The bicycle doesn’t do well in mud.’ Glancing over his shoulder, Norman smiled. ‘Kathryn, these men came to apologise for the mishap. Wasn’t that nice of them?’
Her glare said otherwise and grew in intensity when she settled it on him.
Turning back to the man, Dale said, ‘I fully understand the loss of food, the loss of income, and insist upon paying you.’ He once again held the bills out towards Norman. ‘I’m not familiar with the prices here, so if this isn’t enough, just say what is.’
Norman took the bills and counted them. ‘This is far too much.’
Her animosity became even clearer as she watched Norman shuffle the bills. ‘We cannot take your money. Will not.’
‘Because it’s American?’ he asked. ‘I’m sure any bank will—’
‘No,’ she interrupted, squaring her tiny shoulders. ‘Because we all are doing our part in this war and will manage just fine without your assistance.’
He doubted that. ‘I insist.’
‘So do I,’ she said.
For as tiny as she was, the fury in those brown eyes could fall trees.
‘Kathryn—’
‘Good day, gentlemen,’ she said, interrupting Norman. Then with a sideways nod, she said, ‘Give him his money back. Please.’
There was an odd plea in her eyes, one the old man recognised because he handed over the bills. ‘Thank you for stopping by and for the apology.’
28th of April, 1942
Dear Diary,
London had been struck again. Buildings I’ve known my entire life are no longer standing, the beautiful city I called home is becoming little more than rubble. Norman received word from Father that he and Mother are safe, our home remains undamaged. I’m relieved to know that, but so very saddened by all that continues to happen.
I dare say the Americans have yet to help us save the day and I’m not holding my breath. Especially after meeting one. They are dreadful. Nearly hit me with an aeroplane. Yes, an aeroplane. They are arrogant, too, and far too handsome for their own good. They think all they need is a smile and a wallet full of money.
I’m proud to say they did not fool me with either. Andrew taught me a lesson that I will never forget. Of course, I didn’t realise that at the time. The war was just beginning then and I thought he wanted to marry me because he loved me, not because he thought marrying me would save him from serving. Mother was right in that sense, that he only wanted to marry me because of who Father is. I may not have before, but I now see the wisdom in her words. If I had married Andrew, I might have been living in one of the buildings that are now little more than rubble back in London. What I do know for certain is that I would never have met Charlotte and Norman and all the wonderful children in their care. I would never have discovered how much I truly enjoy taking care of the children. Of course, I knew nothing about that when I first arrived here. I knew nothing about so many things when I first arrived here, but I do now and I can say with certainty that I will never be fooled again. Not by a handsome smile or a uniform.
Kathryn’s nerves had been frazzled since the bicycle accident, but hearing the older boys, George and Edward, bickering as they walked up the road flared a bout of anger inside her. As did the buzz rumbling the skies. The boys had made a contest out of naming the American bomber planes and tallying the number of times they’d seen each one.
The children no longer grabbed their gas masks and ran for the bomb shelter built in the back garden every time they heard a plane—instead, they ran outside unafraid, looking up to see if they could see a pilot.
That was dangerous. There was no other word for it. From the onset of the war, children had been taught to hide from the planes, take shelter, that the rumbling of those large metal birds meant danger.
It still did. Even the American ones. As she’d discovered.
Pulling off her gloves, she left the front garden, making sure the gate was closed tightly, and walked down the cobblestone pathway to open the back garden gate for the children. There was no front garden left to speak of. With everyone doing their part, what had been the front garden now housed rows of vegetables. Having just been planted a short time ago, the green sprouts were tiny and hardly recognisable, but soon there would be potatoes, carrots, cauliflower, parsnips and a few other vegetables that could survive the daily rains and dreary skies of spring. It felt as if it had been years since the sun had shone bright and freely. Almost as if even the weather realised it was wartime.
‘Kathryn! Look what we have!’ Phillip said, holding something in his hand. ‘It’s sweets! Chewing gum! I have a piece for you, too.’
The youngest of the boys, Phillip ran towards her, his smile showing the opening left from losing a tooth last week. Despite her melancholy, she couldn’t help but smile.
‘Chewing gum? Who gave you that?’ Sweets of any sort were rare and the smile on all of the faces approaching the gate said Phillip wasn’t the only one with a prize.
There were nine children in total who lived with Norman and Charlotte and her. Each one as unique and adorable as the next and each an evacuee who had arrived at some point over the past two years. She’d been the first, arriving nearly three years before at the age of seventeen. Her father had delivered her himself. As an intelligence officer, Father hadn’t said if the bombing starts, he’d said when it starts, and he’d wanted her as far away from London as possible. Her mum had agreed, except for the faraway part. They’d settled for Norman’s small farm, little more than an hour outside London.
Since then scores of young people had been evacuated out of the city. And continued to be, finding a temporary and hopefully safe refuge from the war.
‘No,’ Little George said, arriving a step behind Phillip. They called him Little George because George was already here when Little George had arrived on the same evacuee train as Phillip, Patricia and Doreen. ‘A soldier gave it to us.’
A shiver raced up Kathryn’s spine. ‘A soldier?’
‘The one you met,’ Edward said.
‘Yes.’ Phillip thrust a wrapped stick of chewing gum towards her. ‘He gave me this one for you.’
‘He said his name was Sergeant Dale