Across the Mersey - Annie Groves [158]
As they all knew, with heroic bravery and endurance the men of the RAF had gone up again and again into the September skies above the south of England to engage the Luftwaffe in a fight to the death that would decide the fate of the whole country.
Even those who mourned the loss of loved ones were still thankful for the RAF’s victory, and Bella, standing silently outside the church, dressed in black, before the service, saw how people turned eagerly to speak to Jan, in his RAF uniform, and shake his hand as he waited to escort his mother and sister into the church.
At her side Bella could hear her own mother still complaining to anyone who would listen about the Parker’s dishonesty and Bella’s own ‘poverty’, but she couldn’t summon any interest in what her mother was saying. She felt nothing for Alan or his parents, no sense of loss, no sense of grievance, nothing, her grieving and her pain was all for the baby she had miscarried and the intensity of those feelings was still as strong now, a month later, as it had been when it had happened, and still as bewildering to her. Why, after all, should she mourn so fiercely a life she had never wanted for its own sake, only for what it could be used for?
It frightened her – on those occasions when awareness pierced the comforting numbing cotton wool nothingness that occupied most of her waking hours – to realise how hard it was for her to recognise herself in this grieving woman whose pain would not go away, because she was so very different from how she remembered herself. But then the nothingness would come back to claim and comfort her and she would sink back into its welcome embrace.
She didn’t even really feel anything for Jack, her brother, other than a mild sense of disbelief that he had actually been killed.
One day she knew that she would have to leave the safety of her numbness and return to real life. But definitely not yet.
‘Auntie Jean’s here,’ she told her mother as she caught sight of her mother’s twin and her family.
The last time they had been here had been for Bella’s wedding, Grace reflected as she and Seb waited to file into the church behind the rest of her family, having paused whilst Seb introduced himself to Jan as a fellow member of the RAF.
The service was simple but poignant, and it was obvious that many tears were being discreetly shed by the congregation as the vicar spoke of the great bravery and sacrifice of the pilots of the RAF during their recent dogfights with the Luftwaffe, and then went on to speak of the equal bravery and sacrifice of those families who had lost loved ones in the recent bombings of Wallasey itself, with a very special mention of Jack right at the end of his address.
Prayers were said for all those who had died, and for their families, and Grace was grateful for the clean handkerchief that Seb passed to her.
‘At least Bella won’t lose the house, seeing as it was Edwin who bought it,’ Sam commented afterwards when they were on their way home.
‘Vi wants her to move back in with them,’ Jean told him, ‘but Edwin says there’s no point in trying to sell the house at the moment because no one wants to buy property when it could be bombed and destroyed, and besides, Bella’s got those refugees billeted on her. Vi thinks they should leave after what’s happened, but I’d have thought that Bella would be glad of the company. They seemed decent sorts. What did you think, Seb?’
Grace expelled a small sigh of relief. Although her parents hadn’t exactly been unwelcoming to Seb, they hadn’t actually welcomed him into the family either, and Grace had known that they were reserving judgement on him. Now by inviting his opinion she knew that her mother was signalling her approval of him.
‘Like you, I thought they seemed very decent,’ said Seb.
‘So did I,’ said Luke, ‘although I got the impression that Charlie isn’t very keen on Jan. He was making some pretty near-the-bone remarks about foreigners getting into the RAF when British lads can’t, at one point. Not that he could get anyone to agree with him. But you know