Page 61 of Neighbors at War

Supper. Helen hated that the Hamels had to share their meagre rations with her and Bobby, but not wanting to keep them waiting, she pulled her son’s covers up so that he wouldn’t be cold now the temperature had dropped, and went downstairs.

‘There she is,’ Ida said, holding up her telegram. ‘Look what came today. It’s from my cousin in Wimbledon.’ She beamed at Helen.

‘Is it the first time you’ve heard from her?’ Helen asked, feeling Ida’s excitement.

Ida reread her cousin’s words. ‘It is, and it’s such a surprise, and a huge relief. I’d heard on the radio that Wimbledon has been bombed quite a bit, like so many other places. I’ve been concerned about her and her family.’

‘How wonderful that she’s put your mind at rest.’

‘Yes,’ Peggy said. ‘Although they’ve moved to a new place, so they might have had bomb damage at some point.’

Ida nodded. ‘Mavis and her husband Bill had lived in their previous home their entire married life. They would never leave there unless they had little choice.’

Helen noticed the growing concern on Ida’s face and tried to reassure her. ‘But now you know they’re all safe and well.’

‘I do.’ Ida poured them all a weak tea. ‘Maybe you’ll receive a telegram from your family at some point, Helen.’

Helen noticed Peggy and Babs glance at each other.

‘Mum, I can’t see how that will happen,’ Peggy said quietly.

‘Why ever not?

Helen didn’t like to think of Ida being embarrassed when she hadn’t meant anything by her question. ‘I think Peggy is referring to me being here now,’ she said, smiling to ensure her words were taken at face value. ‘No one would know where to deliver it.’

Ida gasped. ‘Oh, lovey. That was insensitive of me. Here’s me showing off about my news while you haven’t heard from your family. Really, I could kick myself.’

Helen shook her head. ‘Please, don’t worry. It’s fine.’ She sighed. ‘I’d like to hear from them, but my mother never made any effort to contact me before the invasion and I have no reason to expect she’ll try now.’

‘But what about––?’ Babs stopped. ‘Sorry. None of my business.’

Helen saw her cheeks redden and supposed Babs was referring to Bobby’s father. ‘I did telegram Richard before Aunt Sylvia died, but never received a response.’

‘These things take months to reach the addressee,’ Ida said, looking embarrassed. ‘Then another few months for their reply to come back, so maybe it’s been delayed.’

‘Thank you, but now I think about it, even if he did reply he would have sent it to the wrong address.’ She stared miserably at her short fingernails and the dry skin on the back of her hands. Realising no one was speaking, she looked up at her friends, who were all staring at her miserably. ‘Please, don’t feel badly for me. I have a lot to be grateful for, thanks to you three taking me and Bobby into your home.’ When they still didn’t speak, she added, ‘Tell me more about your cousin. It’ll be good to hear about England again. I do miss it rather a lot.’

Later, when she was lying on the mattress she shared with Bobby, Helen’s thoughts returned to Richard. Had he replied to her? And if so, what might he have said?

Chapter Thirty-Eight

RICHARD

Richard barely noticed how uncomfortable his bed was after another exhausting shift coast-watching for enemy attacks. Not that there had been many lately, now the Jerries were focusing their attention elsewhere, he thought.

If only news was coming from the islands, and he could at least know she and Bobby were safe.

He took his book from his nightstand and opened it. Helen’s telegram lay between two pages to preserve the flimsy paper for as long as possible. He reread it. Not that he needed to, having memorised the words, but it was comforting to know Helen had written them herself. He ran his fingertips lightly across the precious twenty-five words in pencilled capitals. Helen had touched this piece of paper, he reminded himself. It was the closest he had been to her since early 1940 when they had become intimate that one special time.

Should have spoken before leaving. Bobby (your son), Aunt Sylvia and I are well. Have job and friends. Keep safe. Please send word again. Helen

He murmured the words so as not to disturb any of the others trying to catch some sleep between their shifts. He needed to hear them as well as look at and touch them. Anything to bring her closer to him.

He wondered what his son looked like. Bobby must have been born sometime in December 1940, he guessed. He tried to picture his son playing. It was hard to believe he was two years old and they hadn’t ever met. It had been nine months since Helen had sent her telegram, and though he had replied as soon as he could, there had been nothing since. Could she have changed her mind and decided she no longer wished to have contact with him? No, Helen wasn’t cruel. She would never have begun communicating with him only to stop for no reason. Perhaps his had never reached her.

He sat up. Yes, that’s what could have happened. He needed to send another one and hope it got to her.

Satisfied with his plan, Richard tried to recall what he had said in his previous message. Then, taking his notepad and pencil, he began drafting a telegram, to send that afternoon.