Still, there had been some good points. She was a different woman from the one who had kissed Derek goodbye. If you had told her younger self, she’d hold down a job, raise two children, run a house and volunteer in the war effort, she’d have rolled her eyes. She’d managed just like thousands of women throughout Britain. Now their struggle was over. The men would come home, rationing would disappear, and life would return to normal. She walked into her bedroom, her eyes wandering, as always, to the photo by her bed.
Not everyone would come home. She picked up the photo, kissing Derek’s image. “I miss you so much, Derek. How envious I felt towards the women waiting for their husbands to come home. I know it’s not a nice reaction and I wouldn’t want them to go through the heartbreak of losing their husbands. But, I admit, I couldn’t help feeling jealous. I wish with all my heart, you had survived. We had so many dreams. I guess Maggie would tell me to count my blessings. I have two wonderful children and Harry in my life now. So many young widows have lost not only their husbands but their chance for children. I’m lucky compared to some.” She kissed him again, feeling a little stupid for talking to his photo.
Lying in their bed, the photo didn’t provide much comfort. Life went on and she prayed for strength to deal with whatever was coming, begging God not to let them take her children. She muffled her tears with her pillow, she didn’t want to wake the children. They didn’t need to know how worried she was about losing them. The war had taken part of their childhood, she would not let it take any more.
30
End of August 1945
“Mum! Mum! Where are you?”
Sally ran at the sound of terror in Liesl’s voice. The washing she had been taking in from the clothesline fell onto the grass. Sally didn’t care, something or someone had upset her child.
She ran into the kitchen but skidded to a stop not believing the vision in front of her. Liesl was crying openly but Sally’s gaze was focused on the man stood in front of her, dressed in an ill-fitting suit, his body stick thin, yet…
“Derek. Oh, my goodness, Derek. It is you.”
She flung herself at her husband only to be pushed back.
“Who owns the brat? I heard her call you Mum.”
Sally glanced at Liesl and then back at her husband, the gentle giant she adored. The man who loved children and had spoken often of his plans for a large family.
She pulled Liesl to her side. “Liesl, this is Derek, my husband. You know. From the pictures on my bedside table and out in the hall.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Liesl said, her vivid-blue eyes wide open.
Silence reigned, only to be shattered by Tom running in the back gate. “Liesl, what’s wrong? I heard you screaming. Oh, who are you?”
“Who am I?” Derek roared, causing Liesl and Sally to flinch. “I am her husband,” Derek pointed at Sally, accusation written all over his face. She couldn’t bear the look in his eyes. This was her dream come true, what she had prayed for over and over. But this man in front of her wasn’t her Derek. The man she loved, the man she married would never have scared a child. Not on purpose.
“Something wrong with your ears, or do you always shout?” Tom asked curiously. He was used to men shouting at him, teachers normally, when he didn’t behave as they thought he should.
Derek looked fit to explode. Sally hastily intervened.
“Derek, love. These lovely children are the ones I wrote to you about, do you remember? Liesl was less than a year old and Tom was almost five. They were part of the Kindertransport.” At no sign of recognition on her husband’s face, she tried to prompt his memory.
“You must remember? I sent you pictures of the children, with my letters. I couldn’t wait for you to meet them. You were due home on leave but you fell ill and had to stay in France. We had made a cake and everyone was so excited you were coming home on leave.”
“Only I didn’t come, home, did I? And it looks like you didn’t care a bit. This nice little family you have, a toy-boy too by the looks of it.” Before she knew it, he’d sent the pictures of Harry flying to the floor, shattering it and covering their feet in glass.
“Derek Matthews you should be ashamed of yourself. The picture is of Tom and Liesl’s brother, Harry Beck. He is with the British Army, stationed somewhere in Germany.”
“A German in our army,” Derek scoffed. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Now get these German brats out of my house. I’m hungry and I need a bath. Some welcome home this is.”
“We aren’t Germans and who are you calling brats, you big bully? You made my sister cry and Aunt Sally. She never cries. Go back to where you came from and don’t come back. We don’t need you here.” Tom stood, his arms akimbo, as he held her husband’s gaze. She was both proud of him and terrified of how Derek would react.
Her husband took a step toward Tom but she intervened, his hand catching her on her cheek, the force of the blow knocking her to the floor onto the glass. Liesl screamed as Tom shouted at Derek to leave, while at the same time shouting for help. Enid and another neighbor came running. Sally grabbed a cloth to staunch the blood running from the gash just under her eye. All the time, Derek stood, looking at her in silence, his eyes wide but she couldn’t read
