‘You get out,’ he said, almost gently, ‘for your sake and for ours. I’ll try to come back to pick you up. If I don’t, you’re on your own.’ He drove away and I wished him luck with all my heart.
I must have waited hidden in the trees for hours but no one came for me. At last, as it was growing dark, I knew Fritz wasn’t coming back and I began to walk. I was so tired I wanted to cry, to give myself up to the Germans, tell them everything and let them shoot me. And then I thought of the baby, my baby—Michael’s baby— and I knew I had to make an effort to escape.
My legs were aching and my belly grumbled with hunger by the time I saw the lights of a dockyard. I knew it was dangerous to go any further but I had to bluff my way back home, live by my wits as I’d done since I left British shores.
I could see German uniforms everywhere. I dug out my German papers. They were all in order, German and Irish, thanks to my dear father-in-law.
I walked into the dockyard and my heart lightened. I might get a passage to Ireland from here if I was lucky. It didn’t occur to me I didn’t know where ‘here’ was. Head high, I was stopped at a barrier and showed my German papers.
‘What is your business at the docks?’ The guard spoke in heavily accented German and I barely understood him.
‘I think I’m lost.’ It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment.
‘From Berlin, eh?’ He looked me up and down.
‘Hamburg,’ I said at once.
‘Berlin has been attacked again by the British and the Americans.’ He stumbled for the right words. ‘Soon be burned like Dresden.’ I could swear there was a touch of glee in his voice; he must be Belgian or Dutch I decided.
‘Why you leave Hamburg?’ He almost shouted the question and I jumped.
I am leaving for Ireland,’ I said, in German, ‘Sick mother to visit.’ I patted my rounded stomach. ‘Tell her about my baby, too.’
‘No ship from this port to Ireland. You go somewhere else.’
I stood there with my little bag in my hand feeling abandoned. ‘I don’t know where to go or what to do, my husband, a pilot, is lost over enemy territory.’
That was as much of the truth as I wanted to tell him. I hoped he wouldn’t probe too deeply. If he did he might discover who I really was and he’d soon find out I had been wanted in Germany as a spy. He looked at my bag and I held it out to him. He shook his head.
‘Please help me.’ I perched uncomfortably on a bollard and put my case on the ground.
He was silent for a long time and then he sighed in resignation. ‘Wait here.’ He disappeared.
I sat uncomfortably on the uneven surface feeling the cold from the pewter, oily water of the docks chill my bones. I sat there for at least an hour unnoticed. Then he was back.
‘You stubborn.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Must be Irish in you. Show papers again.’
I showed him my papers and he nodded hesitantly. ‘You Catolic, then?’ It seemed to please him. ‘I speak to wife Ella, she Catolic as well, say you can stay in my house.’
I didn’t bother to tell him I was Welsh Baptist down to the bone. ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble,’ I said, just to be polite.
‘No trouble, it is all right.’ He took me to the edge of the dock and pointed to the house.
‘Oh, thank you.’ I stepped from one foot to the other not knowing what to do.
‘You sit on bench,’ he said, pointing. ‘I relieved of duty in only few minutes. I am Freddie, I take you.’
Relieved, I sat on the bench; it seemed if you were small, young, pregnant and alone every man wanted to take care of you.
About an hour later I was seated near a warm fire with Freddie’s wife, Ella. She was Belgian too and brought me a hot drink of chocolate. It was a treat and though I knew that the tin of powdered chocolate was probably pinched from one of the ships on the dock, I drank with relish.
I slept on the sofa tucked into a warm blanket, the fire burned low in the grate but the embers gleamed comfortingly and out of sheer fatigue I fell asleep almost at once.
In the morning, Freddie had to go to work and Ella and I poured over a map. I wondered if I could hitch a lift into France which, to my delight, had been liberated some months ago by the British army. It was miles away, but if I could hitch a lift to Calais I would surely find a way to go to Ireland and from there to Britain.
Ella told me I was in Antwerp where the Germans had command of the dock and the seas beyond.
‘But the Allies will come soon; the Germans haf lost. You good married girl, you haf ring on finger,’ she said softly, her hand over mine. ‘You are soon to haf child?’
I smiled widely and she nodded sagely. ‘You stay us till Allies come.’
Christmas came and went. It was cold, the water in the docks looked like ice. Ella made little dolls for her two daughters and Freddie made a wooden train for his son. I just grew fatter.
One morning in February I awoke to the sounds of shooting and my heart turned over, I had grown comfortable, safe. But now I realized the war was not yet over.
Seventy-One
It was a momentous time at the beginning of the year 1945. The Americans had come to the Ardennes, the whole country was celebrating and I began slow labour at the unearthly hour of twelve o’clock in the night.
I got up and dressed and packed my little bag and then I woke Ella and Freddie. ‘I’m going home to have my baby,’ I said firmly. I knew Ella would argue and she did.
‘Not now,’ she said, ‘wait till baby come.’
‘That won’t be for a few weeks.’ I was lying through my teeth but Ella didn’t know it and she nodded.
‘I understand, you want your child to be Catolic like us.’
‘That’s right, Catholic,’ I said. It was the only way she would allow me to go. She frowned.
‘But at least wait till morning.’
‘I will go now.’ I kissed her and hugged her and then kissed Freddie. ‘Thank you for all you’ve done, I’ll write to you when I’m home.’
I set out, well wrapped in Freddie’s scarf, to the edge of the docks. There was a battalion of British soldiers and one American pilot.
‘What you doing here lady?’ The American pilot stood looking at my round figure with surprise.
‘I must get home,’ I said, trying my best to hide a small contraction.
‘You an English lady?’ He was even more surprised.
‘I’m Welsh,’ I said stubbornly. ‘My husband was a pilot, shot down a few months ago. I’m having his baby and I don’t want to have it here.’ I didn’t mention that Michael was flying for the Germans.
‘What do you expect us to do?’ one of the other men said, frowning at me.
‘I’ve been spying for the British,’ I volunteered, ‘I’ve put myself in danger to help my country and now I want to go home to have my child. Is that asking too much?’ I demanded. No one replied.
‘Look, I was supposed to be taken out of the country by the resistance but they had to leave rather hurriedly if you get my meaning and I was left to fend for myself, but now I’m asking, begging for help.’ I looked directly at the American pilot.
‘You got a plane?’
‘Of course I got a plane, lady, so what?’
‘My name is Meryl,’ I said sharply, ‘yours?’
‘Aldo,’ he said reluctantly. ‘You got a sister in Swansea, a girl called Hari?’
‘Yes, you know Hari?’
‘I met her, fine girl, lovely red hair.’
I was a little piqued, everyone admired my sister. ‘Well, Aldo, you can take me home. It will only take an hour or so, won’t it?’
‘There are fuel checks—you can’t just take an aeroplane, you know, mam.’
