The G.I. Bride Read online

  She stood up and looked around. She could see Mrs Teague still searching the gravestones nearby. ‘Mrs Teague, I’ve found it!’

  Mrs Teague rushed over, strands of grey hair that had blown loose from her bun whipping around her face and her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

  They both stood for a moment, gazing down at the simple stone. Then April said, ‘Do you recognise those names? And do you think someone from my family might have left the holly?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t, lovely. And maybe someone who knew your mum did leave the flowers, but old Mrs Vellanoweth, who looks after the churchyard and lives in that small house over there, might know. She’s lived here all her life, so she’ll have known your mother, I’ll lay my life on it.’ She gestured across the road at a little house with a blue gate.

  ‘Do you think she’ll mind if we knock on her door and ask her?’

  ‘Bless you, no. Isolde loves a gossip and a bit of company. Come on, I’ll introduce you.’

  They walked across the road and entered the little blue gate. The door was painted the same bright blue as the gate, and April held her breath, praying that this strangely named woman would be in.

  She needn’t have worried. Almost immediately, she heard footsteps approaching the door, before it was flung open by a small old woman with snow white hair hanging in a plait over one shoulder. April noticed that although her face was lined, her eyes had a youthful sparkle.

  ‘Why, if it isn’t Doris Teague. What are you doing here? It’s been a while since you’ve been up this way. At the village fete, wasn’t it? You baked a lovely cake for the raffle, if I recall. Come in, come in and have a cup of tea, if you’ve got a moment?’

  ‘Hello, Isolde, I’ve brought my young friend April to see you as she’s looking for any relations of her mother. Do you remember Mellyn Rowe, by any chance?’

  ‘Mellyn Rowe . . .’ Mrs Vellanoweth’s brow furrowed as she thought for a few long moments. ‘Yes, of course—’ She stopped abruptly as she looked at April for the first time. ‘Bless my soul! If I hadn’t laid holly on Mellyn’s grave myself just yesterday, I’d say she’s standing right in front of me now.’

  April couldn’t contain her excitement. ‘Oh, you knew my mother! How wonderful. Would you be able to tell me anything about my family?’

  Mrs Vellanoweth’s expression clouded for a moment, then she smiled again. ‘Of course, as long as you’ll come in out of the cold and have a cuppa, and I’ll answer anything you care to ask as best I can. Come through to the kitchen, do.’

  April and Mrs Teague followed the old woman into her cosy, overcrowded sitting room that was lit by a window that looked out on to the church. ‘I’ll just go and pop the kettle on, then I’m all yours,’ she said to April.

  She soon returned with a tray on which stood a teapot decorated with flowers, and matching cups, saucers and a milk jug. ‘I’m afraid there’s no sugar today – haven’t had a chance to get my rations. But still. It’s wet and it’s warm, and what more do you need on a grey day like today, eh?’

  She busied herself pouring out the tea, then handed around the cups, before finally – April felt the whole process had taken far too long – she settled back on her chair with a sigh.

  ‘Right, now, April, what would you like to know?’

  ‘I just wondered whether you knew the Rowes? My mother moved to London and that’s where I’ve been until now, and apart from coming to her funeral here, we never came again. But I don’t remember any family being there, and yet the gravestone has her parents’ and sister’s names. Do you know where they might be?’

  Mrs Vellanoweth took a sip of tea and sat quietly. ‘So dreadful,’ she said. ‘What happened to that family. But then, it was happening to everyone all over the country at the time.’ She shook her head. ‘Such terrible, terrible times. And now, here we are, doing it all again. I just can’t understand it.’ She sighed sadly, all sparkle gone from her eyes.

  Mrs Teague sat forward and put a hand on her arm in sympathy. ‘There, Isolde, try not to upset yourself. It is terrible for us old folks who’ve gone through all of this before. The war to end all wars, they said . . . They lied, Isolde, they flat out lied, and now our young folk are having to pay the price we thought we’d already paid.’

  April watched the two older women quietly, her stomach sinking. It seemed it was bad news. Did she really want to hear? To let go of her hope of finding any of her family? She couldn’t wait any longer to find out, so she interrupted them.

  ‘Mrs Vellanoweth? Please don’t worry about giving me bad news. I’m more than used to it, and I’d rather know than not.’

  ‘Of course, child, of course you would. Such lovely girls, Mellyn and Hilda. Peas in a pod, they were, and never apart.’ She sighed again. ‘Anyway, your grandfather was the postman – everyone knew Frank. Salt of the earth. And your grandmother did a bit of sewing in the village and helped in the shop. Oh, your mum and aunt used to wear the most beautiful dresses. She was clever, your grandma. But then, after the war, the flu came and . . .’ She paused and took a sip of tea. ‘Oh, your poor mother, she did all she could. Nursed her family until she nearly dropped dead herself of exhaustion. But there was nothing to be done. Her mother, father and sister all died within a week of each other.’

  April’s eyes filled with tears. Her poor mother. And she’d never breathed a word of her tragedy to her. But then, she’d only been a child, so of course she wouldn’t have wanted to tell her such a horrible story. But her father must have known. Why had he never said? As her mother’s gentle face came into her mind, the tears started to fall. How she must have suffered. No wonder she had never spoken of it, she probably just wanted to put it all behind her.

  ‘Was there no other family?’

  ‘It seems not. Your poor mum was so brave. Buried them all and kept her chin up and her back straight the whole time.’ Mrs Vellanoweth shook her head. ‘Everyone rallied round to help, of course, but she needed to leave, see? The memories were too painful. Anyway, not long after that, the doctor helped Mellyn find a position in London working in a department store and she left. And, until you and your dad came to bury the poor soul, I heard not another word about her. And now here you are. As beautiful as ever your mother and aunt were with your golden hair and blue eyes. Oh, the lads in the town went mad for the Rowe twins, I can tell you.’ She sniffed and held out her hand to April, who was sobbing openly.

  April took it. ‘Surely there must be someone? Anyone? Perhaps cousins?’

  She shook her head sadly. ‘No, my dear. I’m so sorry. No grandparents, aunts or uncles for the Rowes. This village was their family, but so many young men died in the war, and then others in the flu, that the community almost died too. And now, once again, most of the young men have gone to war. Oh, I don’t know what’s to become of us all, but it’s never been the same here since the flu. Never.’

  April didn’t know what to think. She’d come all this way to find her family – anyone at all that she was linked to – but now she knew for sure she was all alone. No one in this world would know or care whether she lived or died. Why had she come all this way? At least in London she had friends. But here, it was just her, facing the future without support or love. This must have been how her mother felt when she’d left Cornwall. Her heart broke at the thought and she burst into violent sobs.

  Mrs Teague quickly rose and put her arm around her shoulder. ‘Oh April. Hush now.’

  April just shook her head.

  ‘Come now, everything will be all right. Listen, you might not have found any family, but here you are anyway, a Cornish girl with roots in this very land, so you have to remember that you’re not alone, because in Cornwall we look after our own.’

  April continued to sob, and Mrs Teague gently brought her head to her shoulder and stroked her back comfortingly. ‘There, you let it all out, and maybe you’ll feel better.’

  Mrs Vellanoweth was sitting in the chair, ringing he
r hands with distress. ‘I’m so sorry, dear. Really I am. I never meant to upset you so.’

  April looked up at her through tear-streaked eyes. ‘No, Mrs Vellanoweth, this is not your fault. I wanted to know and you have been so kind. I’m sorry, it’s just . . . oh, my poor mother. And now what’s to become of me? There’s no one left at all.’

  ‘You will build your own family, my dear.’ Mrs Teague stroked her hair. ‘Just as your mother did. Didn’t she go to London with not a friend in the world? And yet she found your father and had her own little girl to love and care for. There, you see. From the ashes she rose again. Just as you shall, my dear. Because you have your mother’s spirit running through you.’

  April tried to smile. ‘I hope so, Mrs Teague. But I feel cast adrift. There’s nothing to keep me from floating away and no one to care if I do.’

  ‘Oh, now. Of course there is. What about me? I’d surely notice if you floated away.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘And you’ll soon make lots of lovely new friends at the hospital.’

  April sniffed. ‘You’re right. I know you’re right, and I’m sorry for being such a watering pot.’ She fished in her pocket for a handkerchief, and blew her nose and wiped her eyes before taking a deep breath. ‘Right, we should be getting back,’ she said with false cheer. ‘But before I do go, Mrs Vellanoweth, do you know where my mother lived? I think I’d like to see it.’

  ‘Why, of course. They lived above the post office, like all postmasters do. Go out of the church, turn right and you’ll see it soon enough at the crossroads.’

  *

  ‘Are you sure this is a good idea, April?’ Mrs Teague said as they made their way along the street. ‘You’re so upset, and this might make it worse.’

  ‘No, I think I’d like to see it. At least I’ll be able to picture my mother there in happier times. And it will add to my memories of her. I have so few, you see.’

  ‘All right, if you’re sure. I packed us a thermos of tea and some sandwiches to keep us going. So even though it’s not exactly picnic weather, maybe we can find somewhere sheltered to eat.’

  April didn’t think she could swallow a morsel, but she didn’t want to upset Mrs Teague, who had been so incredibly kind and helpful. ‘How clever of you to think of it. That would be lovely.’

  They wandered down the street and soon enough came to the two-storey building that stood at the crossroads of the village, with the words ‘St Merryn Post Office’ written over the door. April stopped and looked at it, her breath catching in her throat. It looked so familiar, but surely that was only because she’d come here when she was a child.

  She tried to picture it as it might have been when her mother lived here. She imagined two little blonde girls, dressed in white dresses with blue pinafores and little black ankle boots running out of the door giggling with their arms linked. They looked so pretty and happy in her mind, and even though she knew it was just her imagination, the vision was comforting.

  Smiling to herself, she looked around to find Mrs Teague standing there with a bemused expression on her face. ‘April? Is everything quite all right?’

  ‘I was just picturing my mother and my aunt as little girls. I know it’s silly, but I swear I almost saw them coming out of the door.’

  Mrs Teague patted her arm. ‘Well, if they looked anything like you, I bet they were pretty little things.’

  April laughed. ‘They were, as it happens. From what I remember, my mother was very beautiful. But then, don’t all children think their mother is the most beautiful woman in the world?’ She sighed and tried to keep the tears from her eyes. She’d cried enough for one day, and she wanted to hang on to the happiness she felt as she pictured the girls. ‘You know, Mrs Teague, it’s funny, but the house looks familiar. Maybe I saw it when we came to the funeral, or maybe . . . Oh, ignore me. Just the emotion of the day, I expect. Come on, you look freezing. We should get going before you turn into a block of ice.’

  On the way back to Truro, Mrs Teague left April to her thoughts, for which she was grateful. She had so longed to find her family, but now she understood that she really was alone in the world. She needed to pull herself together and move forward, just like her mother had. And she’d make a start by doing everything she could to make friends at the hospital. What had that friendly nurse said to her the other day? ‘We’re all one big family here.’

  That’s it. And now I’m part of that family too. And that’s a lot more than many people have, so I will try to find happiness. For my parents’ sake.

  Chapter 5

  Bright and early the following Monday morning, April set off down the avenue of detached old stone houses, wrapped up warmly in her old shabby coat and thick-soled, fur-lined boots on her feet. Across her shoulder was an old leather satchel, lent to her by Mrs Teague, which contained her uniform, a hat – carefully packed so as not to squash it – and her white ward shoes. Mrs Teague had offered to lend her a bicycle, and though this would be useful, today she wanted to walk, so she’d left earlier than she’d normally have to – no matron would tolerate tardiness, new nurse or not.

  All the houses on the street were similar – detached with an attic and a basement coal cellar. Like houses all over Britain, the steps leading up to the front door had once boasted a wrought-iron railing but all that was left now was a small knob of iron on the far side of each step, proof that the householders had sacrificed the beautiful iron work to aid the war effort.

  She turned left and, seeing the enormous bulk of the hospital buildings above her, she quickened her pace. She walked in through the gates, which were open to admit vehicles, and stared up at the imposing building, with the sandbags piled high against it.

  I hope those sandbags are never needed, April thought to herself, remembering the many bombing raids that St Thomas’ had suffered.

  Walking along the wide pavement leading to the hospital, she wondered how many cleaners and how many hours it took to clean that number of windows. She stopped to stare across the view of Truro. It was still dark, but by the light of the moon, she could make out the cathedral spire reaching high into the star-lit sky. She took a deep breath. This was it, the start of her new beginning. And she was going to make the most of it.

  *

  Near the splendid conglomeration of other hospital buildings, including the airy nurses’ hostel, she bumped into the red-headed nurse she’d seen. It looked like she, too, was about to start duty, and April’s heart lifted at the thought.

  She hurried after her. ‘Hello, it’s Eunice, isn’t it?’

  The nurse looked around. For a moment, April thought she wouldn’t recognise her, then Eunice’s face brightened. ‘Oh, hello. I saw you the other day, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, I’m April Harvey. I’m just starting today to finish my training. Matron told me I’d be on the surgical ward, and I think that’s the ward you said you worked on.’

  ‘Oh, yes, that’s me. I’ve just qualified, so no doubt sister will have me showing you the ropes today. Follow me, I’ll show you where to change and leave your coat, then I think there’s just time to grab a quick cup of tea before we start. I’m due to meet Bess in the cafeteria – she qualified at the same time as me – so you can meet her too.’

  Grateful to have a guide, April hurried along beside her, and as soon as they’d changed, Eunice helped her pin on her hat. She laughed as it slid off April’s hair.

  ‘Your hair is so smooth and shiny, it won’t stay.’ She put in another pin. ‘There. Neat as you like. Goodness, I love the colour. I wish my hair was golden like yours, instead of this horrible red.’

  ‘But your hair is so vibrant. Lots of people have my colour hair but I’ve never seen such a beautiful deep red on anyone before.’

  Eunice snorted. ‘You should try living with it. And with these freckles, the Cornish sun plays havoc with my skin. I spend the entire summer looking like I’ve been boiled. Come on, or we won’t have time for that tea.’

  They hustled
to the cafeteria, which was bustling with life as nurses and doctors took the chance to have a quick bite to eat and a cup of tea before they started their long days.

  Eunice paused in the doorway, looking around. ‘There she is. Bess!’

  April saw a dark-haired girl sitting at a table chatting to another nurse. Even though she wasn’t wearing any make-up – which was strictly prohibited for nurses on duty – something about the jaunty way she wore her hat, and how her dark hair curled around her face, made her look very glamorous. The other nurse was equally glamorous, although, April thought, Mrs Osborne would probably describe her as ‘blowsy’. Her uniform looked a little too tight, from what April could see, and her hair was dyed a strange orange colour. They looked up when Eunice called and the dark-haired nurse waved. Feeling slightly intimidated, April followed Eunice to the table.

  ‘This is April, Bess. She’s still doing her qualification and starts today.’

  Bess gave April an appraising stare, her eyes scanning her from head to toe. Her expression was cool and April wondered whether her hat really was on straight.

  Finally, she held out a slim hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, April. I do like your hair. Is it real or do you bleach it?’

  April put her hand up to her hair self-consciously. ‘No, it’s all my own.’ She laughed, feeling uncomfortable.

  ‘Hmm, well, I knew someone with hair just that colour once and hers definitely wasn’t real.’

  ‘Oh, hush now, Bess, you’re just jealous,’ the other nurse said. ‘Anyway, nothing wrong with dying your hair.’ She patted her orange curls complacently.

  Bess snorted. ‘If you say so, Nancy.’

  Nancy merely smiled at her, oblivious to the insult.

  ‘And this,’ Eunice said, ‘is Nancy, who’s nearly qualified.’

  In contrast to Bess, Nancy gave her a warm smile, which made April feel guilty for her thoughts earlier.

  ‘So tell us what you’ve been up to,’ Eunice said to both of them as they sat down.