‘He’s my husband,’ she said. ‘He’ll help.’
*
When I was back at the hospital a couple of days later for my first day shift, Judith came to find me on my ward.
‘Mickey – that’s my husband – he found Eric’s wife,’ she said.
‘And does she know?’
Judith nodded, her lips a tight line. ‘She does.’
‘It’s so sad,’ I said.
‘Mickey told her Eric had left a message for her, and she took a lot of comfort in that.’
‘Really?’ I put a hand to my chest. ‘Then I’ll make sure I send it today. Do you have her address?’
Judith pulled a slip of paper from her apron pocket and handed it to me. ‘She’s staying with a friend’s mother, or her mother’s friend, one or the other, who runs a boarding house in Clacton.’
‘If I write the message during my break, I can catch the post,’ I said more to myself than to Judith.
‘Do you have the book? With Eric’s message in it?’
I nodded. ‘It’s in the staffroom.’
Judith put her hand on my shoulder. ‘Even if none of the other messages get passed on, Eric’s wife reading his last letter makes the whole thing worthwhile.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘I do.’
I smiled. ‘I’ll send it today.’
‘When you’re finished do you think you could pop by the huts?’ she asked. ‘I know the men would like to know what you’ve done and I’m pretty sure they’d rather hear it from you than from me.’
My cheeks reddened as I thought about Harry and I nodded. ‘Of course.’
*
So, at the end of my shift I went to the hut once again. Today the mood among the airmen was more sombre and I wasn’t surprised. They’d lost Vinny and Eric in quick succession, not to mention all the men and women who’d been killed by the bomb. There had been so much loss.
‘I wanted to let you know that I’ve written out Eric’s message to his wife, and I’m going to post it on my way home.’ I looked round at their faces. Less full of fun today and more etched with worry.
‘I tell you what,’ the airman called Davey said, ‘I’m not sure about the others, but knowing I’ve left a letter that my family can read if … you know, that makes me feel better. More secure.’
‘That’s good to know.’ I felt tears prickle my eyes again and wondered briefly if I would always feel this way when I thought about Billy. ‘My brother …’ I began but my voice cracked. ‘He, erm …’
The baby-faced airman who was always reading the newspaper, had been sitting on top of his bed. Now he stood up and came over to me. ‘Got him, did they?’
I nodded. ‘Dunkirk,’ I whispered.
‘What was his name?’
‘Billy.’
‘Well, I reckon we should have three cheers for Billy. What do you reckon, lads?’
‘Nice one, Malcolm,’ said Davey. ‘Hip hip …’
