Walking Back to Happiness

‘I like them,’ Hannah said, and she did like Mike’s parents, Colm and Bridie, who obviously doted on Mike, their only child. ‘When I think of some of the girls Mike could have chosen,’ his mother had confided quite early on in their courtship, ‘I’m glad he’s fallen for someone like you, a nice Catholic girl from a respectable family.’

‘I love Mike,’ Hannah had said simply. ‘And I will spend my life making him happy.’

‘I know you will,’ Bridie had said. ‘And perhaps in time and if God wills it, you’ll have a fine family. We wanted a host of children you know, but we only had Mike. Ah, but then he’s been a son in a million.’

However cross or disappointed they might be over the clandestine marriage, Hannah knew they would not risk alienating their only child. Mike was right, they’d get over it. Not so her sister Frances who would be mortified and would never countenance such a marriage. But then, she was miles away, there was no need at all for her to be told anything. Mike had no need to tell her to keep it a secret, she’d keep it to herself all right.

There was one person she did tell though; her friend, Tilly. She showed her the ring that Mike had bought her, hanging on a silver chain around her neck, and told her what she and Mike intended to do on his next leave.

‘Will you come, Tilly, and be a witness?’

‘Course I will,’ Tilly said. ‘I’d be honoured. When will it be? Has he any idea?’

Hannah shook her head. ‘He’s phoning me here when he knows,’ she said. ‘I’ve had a word with the girls who man the desk and they are quite prepared to take a message.’

Mike’s letters came regularly and as February 1944 drew to a close, Mike mentioned that he might get a longer leave than he thought.

‘Embarkation then,’ Tilly said. ‘They always give them a long leave before shipping them out. People say there’s summat brewing on the south coast.’

Hannah hoped it was just a rumour. In her opinion, Mike had done enough.

One morning in the middle of March, Hannah felt sick as she got out of bed and had to run to the lavatory on the landing that all the indoor female staff shared. ‘What was that all about?’ Tilly asked on her return.

Hannah shrugged. ‘Must have eaten something that disagreed with me. I still don’t feel too hot. I’ll not be wanting breakfast this morning.’

The sickness had passed by lunchtime and Hannah was glad of it. But the next morning it happened again. Tilly was waiting for her when she returned the third morning, wiping her mouth on her handkerchief, her face drawn and pale so that her eyes looked even bigger. ‘Don’t bite me head off, Hannah,’ Tilly said. ‘But you couldn’t be pregnant, could you?’

She saw from Hannah’s face that she could indeed, but also that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind till now. ‘Have you and Mike … you know. Have you done owt?’

Hannah gave a brief reply. ‘Only the once.’

‘Only needs the once though, don’t it?’ Tilly said. ‘When was your monthlies?’

Hannah had never taken much notice, but now forced to remember, she realised with horror, ‘New Year’s Eve. Don’t you remember we were up to our eyes serving that big dinner and I had to go running to my room?’

‘That’s right,’ Tilly said. ‘God, Hannah. Ain’t you seen anything since then?’

‘No,’ Hannah’s voice was a mere whisper.

‘Then I’d say you’re expecting all right, girl. Best write and tell him.’

‘No,’ Hannah said. ‘He’ll be home soon. I don’t want to write that in a letter for the censor to see. He’s due a leave soon.’

‘Someone will notice and they’ll throw you out,’ Tilly warned. ‘It’s happened afore. Oh, you needn’t think I’d ever tell on you, Hannah,’ she said, seeing the aghast look on Hannah’s face. ‘I’ll cover for you, but if they should guess like.’

Hannah pressed her nightie across her stomach. ‘No one will know. I’m not showing yet.’

‘It isn’t that,’ Tilly said. ‘They’ll hear you being sick every morning and put two and two together.’

But she could do nothing about it and each morning would find her galloping for the lavatory and feeling washed out for the rest of the morning.

She noticed the kitchen staff and the cook looking at her askance a few times, so when eventually she got the news that Mike would be home in late April for two days and she could go ahead and book the registry office, she was ecstatic. ‘So he’s coming back, is he?’ the cook remarked on hearing the news. And with a pointed look at Hannah’s stomach, she added, ‘And not afore time, I’d say.’

‘We’re going to be married.’

‘Not afore time there and all.’

‘They knew,’ she said to Tilly.

‘Well, they’re not saying owt,’ she told Hannah. ‘That’s good of them. If you hadn’t been so well liked, you’d have had your cards by now.’

She couldn’t wait to be married, to become Mrs Michael Murphy. She loved the sound of it and hugged herself with excitement as the day drew near.

She’d bought a full dress that would hide her slightly thickening waist. It was a shimmering blue and made of silk that cost her a fortnight’s wages and all her clothing coupons for a month, as well as some of Tilly’s, but she told Tilly she only intended to marry the once. Tilly went with her to choose her hat, shoes and handbag, the excitement mounting with each purchase.

‘Every time I think about it, I feel all jittery,’ she confessed to Tilly.

‘You better calm down,’ Tilly warned. ‘You’ll be a bag of nerves when the day arrives and won’t be able to say “I do”.’

‘Oh yes, I will,’ Hannah said with a laugh. ‘I’m practising already.’

Two days before the wedding, a letter came from Mike. He was distraught, even his writing was scrawling and disjointed, and Hannah’s heart fell as she read it.

Darling Hannah

I’m getting one of the kitchen staff to post this in the hope of getting it past the censors. All leave has been suspended or cancelled, no one is sure which. The camp is being dismantled so we’re on the move somewhere. Some say south. No one really knows. I’ll write more when I know. I love you, darling, but you’d be better to cancel the registry office.

‘Write and tell him about the baby,’ Tilly advised.

‘What can he do?’

‘Damned all maybe, but he has a right to know.’

So Hannah wrote and Mike’s frantic reply came by return of post.

Oh Hannah, my darling. I’m so sorry. What you’ve had to cope with all alone! I’ll see my commanding officer, plead extenuating circumstances, tell him all about you. Oh darling, something must be done. Even if I have just a twenty-four hour pass, I’ll make it and we’ll find a priest. It will be all right.

But Hannah and Mike’s problem did not move the commanding officer one jot. They were planning an invasion on a scale never before imagined. What was one soldier and his pregnant girlfriend in the great scheme of things?

Mike Murphy and his unit were shipped south.

‘It’s the big push everyone was talking about, isn’t it?’ Hannah asked fearfully. ‘Oh God, Tilly, what will I do?’

‘Go and see his parents. You get on with them all right.’

‘They don’t even know we were to be married. The ring Mike gave me is not an engagement ring.’

‘But they like you. You’ve always said that.’

‘They did like me. What if they think I’m trying to trap Mike?’

Tilly said nothing. She knew that parents of sons, especially only sons, often behaved in an irrational way towards girlfriends and to pregnant ones they could be even worse. But something had to be done.

‘Could you go home?’ Tilly asked.

‘To Ireland?’ Hannah gave a shudder. ‘You don’t know what you’re asking me. God, it would be awful!’ She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t bring that shame, that disgrace, on my sister and her family.’

‘Then where?’

‘God, I don’t know.’

Hannah sat with her head in her hands, sobs shook her body, and Tilly’s arms went around her and she held her tight. But she couldn’t tell her not to cry, not to worry, because by God, she had reason to do both.

Hannah didn’t expect Mike home. He could say nothing, but rumours flew about; army camps were emptying all over the country and almost the entire force of the United Kingdom and its allies were all assembled on the south coast for the make or break invasion.

Mike wrote again in mid May:

I’ll write to my parents and explain, I’ll tell them the child is mine and you are to go to them until I come back and then we’ll be married. It’s all right, my darling. You will be fine and I’ll be home before you know it.

‘He’s writing to his mother and father,’ Hannah told Tilly. ‘They’ll believe him.’

‘Will you go to them?’

‘No. I’ll wait until they send for me. I don’t know how long letters take these days.’

Mike’s letter did take time to reach his parents. It took him a while to even find time to write it for the whole camp was in an uproar. He’d never seen so many people concentrated in one relatively small area, nor so many tanks, jeeps, army trucks, cars and motorcycles littering the roads.

The whole area was a no-go area for civilians and those in the small farms and villages were trapped there too. Orders were given by one officer, only to be quickly rescinded by another. It was mayhem. Everyone was in a state of flux and rumours abounded.

There was little time for letter writing and certainly not for writing the type of letter he had to write to his parents. They had to help Hannah and to hell with the neighbours. His mind was constantly filled with Hannah and the child – his child – and worry about her filled his mind through the day and invaded his sleep at night.

The letter did arrive at Colm and Bridie’s home eventually towards the end of May. Bridie and Colm were shocked. They’d thought Hannah such a respectable girl for such a thing to happen. They’d got to know her so well, especially when Mike hadn’t been so well. ‘Mind,’ Colm said, trying to be fair. ‘Our Mike must have had a hand in it.’

‘Aye,’ Bridie agreed. ‘But he’s a man. Everyone knows that it’s the girl’s place to keep feelings in check.’

‘Aye,’ Colm agreed with emotion, remembering his own frustrated courtship days. ‘But still we’ll have to help the girl. It’s what Mike wants and after all, the child she’s carrying is our grandchild.’

Bridie agreed with her husband, but with reservations. She had a horror of the girl coming here with her belly sticking out and the neighbours knowing that there wasn’t even an understanding between her and their son – not that they were aware of, anyway. It would somehow besmirch their son to allow it. And yet Mike had asked them to take the girl in so they had no choice. The damage was done now.

‘Shall I go and see her?’ Bridie said. ‘Or write? I don’t know which would be best.’

But in the end she did neither, for in the early hours of 6th June, Mike was housed in a troopcarrier on the choppy waters of the Channel heading for Normandy. The short summer night was fully over; the sky was grey and the light dusky. It was cold too, the wind damp and chilly and the men shivered.

Mike was as frightened and nervous as the next, his stomach turning over at what lay ahead, but above everything else he worried about Hannah and how she was coping and hoped she was now safe with his parents. When he was out of this damned carrier and set up in camp somewhere, he’d write to Hannah, stressing his love and concern for her and their baby. Oh God, he wished he was there with her, supporting her.

‘All right?’ said Luke’s voice low in his ear.

‘Not bad.’

‘Still worrying about your bird?’

‘Wouldn’t you?’

‘I’m the love them and leave them variety, me,’ Luke said. ‘Though I have to say your Hannah’s a canny lass. Don’t worry, we’ll soon knock this lot into touch. I’m sure your folks will do the decent thing and take care of Hannah till she has the kid. You can still get married if you’re determined on it, just be a bit later, that’s all, and I’ll still stand you the meal I promised you.’

‘Thanks, Luke,’ Mike said warmly. ‘I’m really glad we’ve been in this together from the beginning.’

‘And we’ll stay together, mate, and one day soon we’ll be drinking a pint back in dear old Blighty, you’ll see,’ Luke said and Mike grasped his extended hand and shook it. ‘It’s a deal,’ he replied.

‘Stand ready!’ came the order from a young and nervous corporal and Mike looked about him. Some of the faces were apprehensive, some plain scared, and some of the raw recruits, who didn’t yet know what it was about, were excited. Christ!

The light had brightened a little, the dawn hidden by the clouds a pearly grey as the carrier got near and nearer to the sandy shore and the men stood tense and ready.

Above them, they could see and hear the German fighter planes. The constant tattoo from their automatic guns beat against their heads and was mixed with the shouts and screams as they found their mark. Mike saw soldiers wading forward suddenly jerk and then lie still, face down in the scummy sea. God, it was carnage! Another bloody Dunkirk. He was gutwrenchingly scared and he saw from the look on Luke’s face that he felt the same.

And then the carrier stuck in the sand, the sides lowered and the men were out. Waist-deep in freezing water, their rifles held above their heads, they tried to hurry for the beaches and dodge the planes trying to prevent them.

Soldiers ahead of them on the beaches had already set up anti-aircraft guns. The noise was tremendous, the roar of planes, the whine of bullets being answered by the rat-tat-tat of anti-aircraft fire, the shouts and the cries and screams of the men masking the noise of the approaching bombers.

Mike staggered to the shore, which he saw was littered with bodies. He exchanged a glance with Luke who was beside him, but before he was able to speak, a bomb blew Mike Murphy to kingdom come and blasted his friend into a hole beside him.

When Bridie Murphy went into the hall and found her husband lying still on the floor with the opened telegram in his hand, her own heart nearly stopped beating. She prised the telegram from her husband’s fingers and on reading it, knew that she’d lost her husband as well as her son. The bad heart the doctor had warned him about had finally given up.

She phoned her older sister, Christine, from the telephone box down the road, before she rang the doctor, knowing that Colm was way past a doctor’s help and her sister would know what to do.

Christine, unmarried and older than Bridie by five years, did know. It was a good job she was there to arrange a funeral for after the initial shock, Bridie had been so overwhelmed with grief she’d been under sedation ever since, unable to give any thought or concern to Hannah and her plight.

Christine was determined, despite Bridie’s condition, that the old man at least would have the dignity of being laid to rest in a proper grave and with a full Requiem Mass. Mike’s remains were probably left on the beach, like many more.

She was worried though about her sister. She had totally gone to pieces and she knew she couldn’t be left alone and decided to take her back to Wiltshire to live with her. She could decide what to do about the house later. Houses would, she guessed, be at a premium after the war and she wouldn’t advise her to sell it yet awhile. But she could let it out. She didn’t have to concern herself about the details of it. She’d instruct her solicitor to find a reputable agent as soon as possible. Unoccupied houses ran quickly to rack and ruin and anyway, with so many being bombed out of their homes, empty houses were in danger of being invaded by squatters.

She came upon Mike’s letter on the mantelpiece as she began packing some of her sister’s things and read it dispassionately.

Mike wrote that this girl, Hannah Delaney, was carrying his child. How did he know that? It could have been anyone’s bastard she was carrying, but she’d picked him to carry the can for it. Christine had heard there were plenty of girls doing that these days.

There’d obviously been no talk of the engagement, or a wedding before the girl became pregnant, because Bridie would have written to tell her. Well, Mike was no longer able to defend himself and her sister she knew was in no fit state to look after this girl, whoever she was. She was in no state to look after anyone or anything, and she screwed up the letter into a ball and threw it into the fire.

‘God, Hannah, when would he have time to write?’ Tilly said sternly to her tearful friend when there had been no letters for over a week.

By then the whole country knew that Operation Overlord, or D-Day, had begun on 6th June 1944 and was deemed a success. ‘They’re advancing in enemy-held territory,’ Tilly went on. ‘He can hardly say, “Hold on a minute,” and get the whole company to stop while he writes a note to you. Even if he managed to write, where the hell would he post it? It’s not like at the camp where there’s a handy military pillar box nearby.’

Hannah knew all Tilly said was true and she tried to make herself believe that any day there would be a letter, maybe a clutch of them, and she’d know he was safe. She wondered if he’d ever even had time to write to his parents. She’d expected to hear from them by now too. Something would have to be decided and soon about her pregnancy, but worry about Mike seemed to loom over everything.

There had been an absence of letters for almost three weeks when Hannah was summoned to the supervisor Miss Henderson’s office. She’d been expecting it for some time for she was five months pregnant and had had to let out her work and leisure clothes to their fullest extent and that morning she’d seen the supervisor’s eyes on her as she served breakfasts.

The supervisor looked at her over the top of the glasses people said she just wore for effect. Hannah had had little dealings with her since the day she’d been interviewed for the job. She hadn’t liked her manner then and she didn’t like it any better now.

Miss Henderson was thin, not just slim, stick thin, and she wore suits with fitted jackets to emphasise her shape. Everything about her was thin; her long face, her nose, her lips, even her voice had a thin snap to it.

Beside her, Hannah felt big and ungainly. But she raised her head when Miss Henderson said disdainfully, ‘You’ve been putting on weight lately, Miss Delaney?’

‘Yes, Miss Henderson.’

‘Are you expecting a child?’

There was no point denying it. ‘Yes, Miss Henderson.’

‘And how long, pray, did you intend to keep this information to yourself?’

‘I don’t know, Miss Henderson.’

‘You don’t know, I see. Who is the father of the child?’

Hannah thought of telling Miss Henderson to mind her own business. She shrugged, what did it matter now? ‘A soldier, Miss Henderson. Name of Mike … Michael Murphy.’

‘Married?’ Miss Henderson snapped in a voice full of scorn.

Hannah was shocked. ‘No, Miss Henderson.’

‘So he can marry you?’

‘We were to be married, Miss Henderson. Everything was booked. But then he got shipped south and then overseas.’

‘So now what will you do, for you realise you can’t stay here?’ Miss Henderson said. ‘You’ll upset and embarrass our guests, so when I tell you to pack your things, where will you go?’

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