Far From Home (44 page)

Polly kissed the palm of his hand as he cupped her cheek.

‘It must have been so hard for you, Polly, and I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been suffering after losing your family like that. I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to help you get through all this.’

‘You’re helping me now,’ she whispered against his lips. ‘Get better soon, my darling, and then we can go and see our baby.’

‘I promise to do my very best,’ he murmured before kissing her.

The next morning found them sitting in Matron’s office, Adam in the much-hated wheelchair, and Polly on the very edge of the unyielding chair. She was so keyed up that when the telephone rang she flinched.

‘Cliffehaven Memorial Hospital. Matron’s office,’ said Matron in her very best telephone voice. ‘Thank you.’ She smiled at Polly and passed her the receiver before discreetly leaving the room.

‘Hello, Alice?’ Polly shouted through the static.

‘Mummy? Is that you, Mummy?’

Her heart thudded with joy at the sound of her child’s voice. ‘Yes, darling, it’s me, and Daddy’s here too.’ She put the receiver between them so Adam could say hello, and they heard Alice squeal in delight. ‘Where are you?’ she demanded. ‘I can’t see you. Are you coming to get me now?’

‘We’re a long, long way away,’ said Polly after swallowing the lump in her throat. ‘We can’t come just yet, because Daddy’s got a bad leg.’

‘I miss you, Mummy.’ The little voice was plaintive and close to tears.

‘And I miss you too,’ Polly managed, her arms aching to hold her, her heart drumming with painful yearning.

‘How’s my little pumpkin?’ said Adam. ‘Is she still ticklish?’

Alice giggled. ‘Oh, Daddy, you are silly. ‘Course I am.’

‘Then you keep all those tickles for when I come and see you,’ he said gruffly.

‘Daddy, I want to come home.’ Her piping voice wavered and stuttered. ‘Why can’t I come home?’

Adam had to take a deep breath before he could reply. ‘It isn’t time yet,’ he said softly. ‘Daddy has to have lots of sleeps and so do you until then.’

It broke their hearts to hear their little girl sobbing at the other end of the line, and Polly could barely speak through her own tears. ‘Alice,’ she said. ‘Listen to me, Alice, sweetheart. Mummy and Daddy will be with you as soon as we can. We promise. But
you
have to promise to be a big strong girl and not to cry any more. Mummy and Daddy don’t want you to cry, it makes us feel sad.’

‘All right,’ she hiccuped. ‘I’ll be a good girl. Grandma said I was a good girl, but she went away in the water. You won’t go, will you?’

‘No,’ they said in unsteady unison. Polly gripped the receiver. ‘Darling, we will write and send you some toys. What special thing would you like us to send you?’

‘I’ve got lots of toys,’ she said plaintively. ‘I want my teddy.’

Polly closed her eyes. That teddy had been a present from Adam the day Alice had been born. It had been with her every night in her cot, and had even been squashed into her satchel when she’d started school. It must have been lost on that terrible night. ‘I will send you a new teddy,’ she said over the static. ‘A lovely teddy you can cuddle.’

‘All right.’ The small voice sounded distant and very vulnerable.

A man’s voice interrupted. ‘I’m sorry, but you must finish now.’

‘Goodbye, Alice, darling,’ said Polly in a rush. ‘I love you.’ She blew kisses as Adam took the receiver.

‘I love you lots, pumpkin, and when I see you, I’m going to hug you and kiss you until you’re all gobbled up.’

Just before the pips went and they were cut off, they heard the throaty chortle of their little girl and it broke their hearts.

It was almost the end of November, with only four weeks left to Christmas. There had been no let-up in the air raids, and most nights had been spent huddled round the paraffin heater in the Anderson shelter as they listened to the hundreds of bombers and fighter planes heading for London and the Midlands. Liverpool and Manchester had been as badly hit as London, but Coventry had almost been obliterated, and the people of Cliffehaven counted their blessings as they remained relatively unscathed.

That was not to say it had escaped completely, and night after night, as the sirens shrieked out their warnings, Danuta and the others with the Red Cross ambulances were on stand-by to help the injured. Houses already weakened by nearby blasts crumpled into rubble, time bombs went off and incendiaries exploded over the rooftops. The fire and ambulance services were in constant demand as they worked with the wardens and did their best to rescue people and get them safely to hospital.

Cissy had received two letters from Joe Buchanan, and went about in a daze of happiness. She and Amy had been accepted into the WAAFs and proudly wore their uniform every time they came home to visit from their airbase billets, which were some miles away to the north. Life was exciting and busy, Witherspoon just a bad memory, and Danuta was delighted that her contribution towards his downfall had led to Cissy finding fulfilment at last.

Her own career as an ambulance driver hadn’t gone so well.

Danuta had been in her element until she’d been closely questioned by the head of the ambulance service and told very firmly that she must stand down because of her pregnancy. She’d been angry and disappointed, for she’d felt well and healthy, apart from some early-morning sickness, and it was ridiculous to make her stay at home when there was so much she could have done.

The sirens had gone off at six the previous evening, just after Polly and the other three nurses had left for their night shifts at the hospital. Jim and Ron were on warden and fire-watch duty, so Danuta, Peggy and Mrs Finch spent the rest of the night in the shelter. They hadn’t slept well, or comfortably, as hundreds of planes flew overhead and the Bofors guns thundered from the cliff-tops and esplanade. The whine of the little fighter planes as they engaged in dogfights, and the shrieks of some going down, had them all on edge.

The all-clear hadn’t sounded until five-thirty that morning, and they’d wearily returned to the house to survey the damage of the night’s raid. A bomb had gone off in one of the terraces behind them, and the vibration of it had broken two of the remaining windows and knocked most of the crockery off the shelves in the kitchen, leaving it shattered on the floor.

While Peggy rushed out to see if anyone needed help, Danuta swept up the mess and tried to find some more hardboard to cover the broken bedroom windows. The water had been cut off, one of the mains had taken a direct hit, and the fire in the range had gone out, but Mrs Finch found enough water in the kettle to make tea over the primus stove.

Danuta felt very tired, and after drinking the welcome cup of tea, she went to lie down. As she lay there and watched the sky lighten through the open curtains, she rested her hands on the swell beneath her sweater.

She hadn’t felt the baby move for several days now, and there seemed to be a dull, constant ache below her belly she couldn’t shift. She had been warned she might get a few gentle contractions now she was approaching her sixth month, but it worried her all the same. There was an indefinable something that didn’t feel quite right, and she was glad the midwife was due to visit the next day.

Deciding she was probably making too much of it – what did she know about having babies, except from medical books – she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Adam was making huge progress at last, and Polly knew it was because of that telephone call. Letters and parcels were simply not enough, and he was determined to recover sufficiently to travel to Scotland for Christmas.

Mr Fortescue and Polly chided him for pushing himself too hard, but Adam took no notice. He sweated and strained during the physiotherapy sessions on his arm and leg, and had finally thrown away the crutches. Now he leant heavily on a walking stick as he stomped about the hospital, impatience and frustration writ large in his expression.

There would be no return to his fighting regiment, for which Polly was profoundly grateful, but the army would still employ him as a much-needed mechanic once he was passed fully fit. However, his main focus remained on Alice, and the sooner he and Polly could get to her the better – and if that meant every muscle in his body ached, and he was completely drained by night-time, then so be it.

Polly watched him struggle and fight and knew the reason, but it didn’t stop her worrying about him. In the quiet moments when she and Mary sat over cups of tea, she voiced her concerns.

‘He tried to persuade me to go up there on my own,’ she said as they sat in the canteen after their night shift. ‘But as much as I long to be with her, I couldn’t possibly leave him to do that journey alone. It’s a long way, and after what I went through to get here, I suspect it will be quite hazardous as well, and although he’s coming along very well, he isn’t as strong as he likes to think he is.’

‘But it’s the spur he needed to get him out of bed and walking again,’ murmured Mary. ‘He’s surprised us all at how quickly he’s recovering.’

Polly sighed. ‘I know, and I’m hugely grateful to everyone for helping him. But I keep expecting something else to happen to stop us getting to Alice.’ She gave her friend a rueful smile. ‘The fates haven’t been particularly kind of late, and it’s a bit like waiting for the second shoe to drop.’

Mary laughed. ‘I know what you mean. The mother-in-law is threatening to move in, and every time we have a raid I wonder if it’s the one that’ll bring her house down and force her to act on her threat.’ She pulled a face. ‘Lord knows how long we can live together before murder is done.’

Polly giggled and finished her tea. ‘These things are sent to try us,’ she said cheerfully. ‘But I think murder would be going a little far.’ They shared a look of understanding as they smiled at one another. ‘I’m off,’ Polly said, grabbing her things. ‘See you tomorrow.’

Danuta woke and winced as a needle of pain ran up her side. She must have been lying awkwardly, she thought, as she climbed off the bed.

She shot a glance at the sleeping Polly, who must have come home while she was taking her nap. Stretching her back, which always seemed to have an ache in it somewhere these days, she ran her hands over her tight, swollen belly. But there was no response from the child inside, no flutter of fingers or gentle undulation of its body.

‘You’re tired too, I expect,’ she muttered through a huge yawn. ‘And I don’t blame you. It is very boring to do nothing all day.’

She walked across the room to fetch her hairbrush and, as she reached for it, she felt a stab of pain that took her breath away. Curling into it she began to keen, the sweat beading her forehead as a chill of fear ran down her spine.

‘No,’ she pleaded. ‘It’s too soon. It can’t be.’

‘Danuta!’ cried Polly. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Pain,’ she gasped. ‘Terrible pain.’ She gasped as she felt something warm trickle down her thighs to pool on the floor, and focussed on it as the pain began to subside, terrified she would see blood – but it seemed she had merely wet herself. ‘I am sorry, Polly. I have …’

‘It’s all right, Danuta,’ Polly said quietly. ‘I think your waters have broken. Let’s get you back to bed, and I’ll ring the doctor.’

‘It is too soon,’ Danuta moaned as Polly gently led her the short distance to her bed. ‘I cannot have this baby today. It must not come.’ She collapsed into the welcome softness of her bed and buried her face in the pillows as the pain returned. This time it was sharper still and deeper, more urgent. ‘Polly. Polly help me.’ She clutched at Polly’s hand.

‘I’ll shout for Peggy to ring the doctor. Hold on, Danuta.’

Danuta felt her snatch away her hand and heard her race for the door. Through the mist of pain she could hear Polly’s loud, urgent cries for Peggy to ring the doctor immediately. And she knew her baby was in danger.

She gasped as the pain clenched like a fist. ‘Polly,’ she breathed. ‘Polly, help me. I am frightened for my baby.’ She reached for Polly’s hand, saw the fleeting look of fear in her friend’s eyes and turned away in tears. ‘It is my fault,’ she sobbed. ‘I am too careless. I work and work and did not think of my baby.’

‘Hush, now,’ soothed Polly, stroking back her sweat-soaked hair. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong, Danuta. I promise. Now, let me help you get cleaned up and undressed.’

Peggy rushed in. ‘The doctor’s on his way. I caught him just as he was leaving on his rounds, but I can’t reach the midwife – she’s delivering a baby on the other side of town somewhere.’

‘Then I’ll just have to do my best,’ said Polly, ‘but it’s been a long time since I worked on maternity, and I hope the doctor gets here quickly.’

‘You stay with me?’ Danuta pleaded as Polly slipped a clean nightdress over her friend’s head.

‘We’ll both stay for as long as you want,’ said Peggy, gathering up the discarded and soiled clothes. She shot Polly a worried look. ‘I’ll dump this lot in the laundry and get you a nice cold cloth to put on your forehead,’ she muttered before racing out of the room and down the stairs.

The pain was coming again and Danuta gripped Polly’s hand. She forgot her English and let out a stream of Polish as she tried to deal with the awful sense that she was being squeezed in half – that she’d endangered her precious child by being thoughtless and stubborn – that this pain was her punishment.