Waves
of Hope
By
Jackie Lloyd
The
pale moon could only be partially seen behind the dark, ominous clouds of
the October evening. The black waters of the Mersey were pounding against the
promenade wall, sending cascades of frothy white water across the pavement. A
young couple could be heard laughing as they jumped to the side to avoid
getting wet.
Joan
looked in their direction, a tear in her eye and longing in her heart. She
pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and tucked loose wisps of her dark
curly hair into her bright red beret.
Joan
brought her attention back to the river and stuffed her cold hands into her
pockets. She immediately felt the envelope containing a letter from Harry.
Once
again her eyes filled with tears and she turned around and slowly, with a heavy
gait, made her way home.
“Come
here by the fire love, you look perished,” said Betty as she moved to the
stove to put the kettle on to boil. “You been on the prom again?”
“I know
Mum; I just can’t help myself,” replied Joan as she finally succumbed
to the overwhelming sadness in her heart. She couldn’t bear the thought that
her beloved husband, Harry, might not return and she wept like a baby in
her Mum’s arms.
***
Harry
stood on the deck of the merchant ship he had served on since the outbreak of
the war. They had been lucky, so far, despite the constant threat from the
German U-boats as they tried to stop supplies from reaching those
desperately in need.
As
he looked out to sea, he put his hand in his pocket and felt the letter that he’d
received from Joan a few weeks earlier.
She
sounded well and seemed to be coping but he longed to be able to hold her and
protect her from danger. He knew that she was being brave for him.
His
thoughts were suddenly broken as the alarm sounded and he had to rush back to
his station and prepare for an attack.
***
As
the days and weeks went by Joan tried her best to keep busy and push any dark
thoughts from her mind.
She
knew that she had to stay positive and keep herself healthy in order to look
after her Mum and indeed herself. She laid her hand on her ever increasing
girth and gently patted the new life that was growing inside her.
The
weeks turned into months and Joan had still not had a letter from Harry nor even the dreaded knock
on the door with a telegram informing her that he was missing at
sea or, worse still, killed in action. Either scenario would have been
devastating for her and their baby.
The
war escalated and there seemed little hope of an end to it any time soon.
Her thoughts drifted to the last time she had seen Harry. It was the previous
July when he had managed to get a few days shore leave.
They
had booked into a small boarding house in New Brighton and spent precious time
on their own.
They
walked along the beach, holding hands and making plans for the future, not
wanting to contemplate the possibility of never seeing each other again, and
that this could have been their last time together.
All
too soon, Harry had to leave and get back to his ship. Joan, once
again, stood on the dock waving to him with a forced smile on her face.
She would leave her tears for a private moment when she got home and allow
Harry’s last look at her to be a cherished memory.
Christmas
came and went without any real celebrations. Everyone was low in mood and,
despite trying their hardest to show good spirits, Joan and Betty were glad to
start the new year with hopes raised that the war would end soon.
January
was particularly cold but February brought some unusually mild
weather, lifting Joan’s spirits. She was heavily pregnant now and finding
it hard to manage, both physically and emotionally.
Betty
was busy knitting a layette and Joan was trying to find a crib. Everything was
scarce now and either rationed or over Joan’s budget. Maybe she would just have
to use a dressing table drawer like her Mum had used for her. “Times are hard and
I will just have to make do,” she said out loud.
***
Harry
lay on his bunk and wondered how much more he could take of the incessant
attacks, loss of comrades and battling with the relentless cruel conditions in
the Atlantic Ocean.
He
had not heard from Joan for several months and had been unable to write to her.
Closing
his eyes briefly, he saw her beautiful face and those dark curls bouncing on her
cheeks as she threw her head back and laughed.
He
longed to see her laugh again and hold her in his arms. He drifted off to sleep
but was once again brought back to reality when he heard the alarm raised for
another U-Boat attack. Would this be the one to finally take him from his
beloved Joan?
***
Joan
had been for her usual morning walk along the promenade enjoying the mild April
sunshine. She walked slowly as the baby was due and she was finding the extra
weight and size of her belly quite exhausting.
“Hi
love, just in time for a cuppa,” said Betty as she gave her a kiss
and ushered her to the chair by the stove. Despite the mild weather, it was
still cold in the kitchen as they only lit the fire when it was really needed
due to the lack of coal.
Betty
busied herself making the tea whilst Joan wriggled about on the chair trying to
get comfortable. She had been experiencing pains in her lower back all
morning.
Suddenly,
there was a loud knock on the front door. Joan jumped up and Betty dropped a
cup on the tiled floor sending pieces of pottery in all directions.
“I’ll
go love,” Betty said, trying to stay calm when in reality her heart was
pounding as she went to the door, dreading who was going to be there.
Betty
rushed back into the kitchen clutching the envelope they both knew would hold a
message they didn’t want to hear.
“You
read it Mum please,” said Joan in the desperate hope that it would be happier
news if she didn’t read it herself.
Betty
opened the envelope and, with hands shaking and her glasses misting with her
tears, she read the message inside.
Harry
was ‘missing in action’. She put her arms around Joan and said in a quiet, soft
voice, “he’s missing love, so there is still hope.”
Joan
looked at the words in the telegram and read them over and over again, tears silently falling down her cheeks
and onto her swollen belly. She tried to be positive but all she could think of
was Harry was missing at sea. That cruel beast could swallow whole ships
mercilessly, let alone the men that had been thrown into the water.
Had
he drowned? Was he clinging to debris tossed from the ship as she
went down? Or maybe, just maybe, he had been lucky and was picked up
by a passing vessel?
Suddenly,
a searing pain ripped through her body and she knew that their child would be
born soon. She had to put the baby’s safety first. She couldn’t lose them both.
***
It
had been almost two months since their son, George, had been born. He
was a healthy, happy baby and for that Joan was thankful but she still longed
and hoped for good news about Harry.
Every evening
she walked along Egremont Promenade, looking across the River Mersey at
the ships and boats returning tired, battle weary men home to their loved
ones.
Every
day Joan prayed that Harry was safe and, one day soon, her family would be
complete.
***
Harry
stood on the deck of the ship that was carrying him across the English Channel back
home.
He
closed his eyes and held the image of Joan in his mind as he had done countless
times in the last few months.
The
convoy ship crew had managed to pluck several men out of the stormy waters on
that fateful night.
He
had spent several days semiconscious, unaware of his surroundings but his
memory slowly returned and he was able to communicate to his rescuers his
desperate need to return home to England.
***
It
was a warm late spring morning and Joan held her head up to face the sun
shining through the kitchen window.
A
strong feeling of mixed emotions welled up inside as she glanced towards the
crib, checking that George was asleep and comfortable.
As
she turned to put the kettle on she was startled by a sharp knock on the door.
Betty was
out shopping, so Joan headed for the door, a sense of dread in the pit of
her stomach.
That
dread instantly turned to happiness, relief and joy when she saw Harry standing
on the path.
She
flew into his arms and buried her head in his shoulders, sobbing
uncontrollably.
Her
prayers had been answered, hope had prevailed and Harry would finally meet
his son.
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