When Tilly boarded the troop train for Cherbourg, she prayed that she would reach her destination without any encounters with the Luftwaffe. There were many trains that were targets for the ace German air force. The train rattled through the night and Tilly tried to get some sleep wedged between two soldiers who smelled as if they had not been near a bath for months. She had to keep telling herself that they were all lucky to be alive and a little discomfort was nothing. Just as dawn was breaking, she awoke to the sound of the train slowing as it entered a station. She looked out of the window. The station sign announced they had arrived in Caen. Still a way to go before their destination and the security of their escape route. She knew she would not be comfortable until they were crossing the Channel and, even then, they would be a target both from the air and from the sea. The thought of hitting a mine or being torpedoed terrified her. They might not survive an attack from the skies if they were peppered by Messerschmitt fire. A bomber aircraft had the capacity to blow them out of the water and an attack from the sea might totally destroy them. She had visions of scrabbling among struggling bodies all flailing around, trying to hold on to something that would keep them afloat. How ruthless would she be prepared to be to stay alive? Enough to snatch a lifeline away from someone else in order to save herself?
She was still half awake when she decided to go in search of the toilets. She knew that such a crowded train would mean using it would not be a pleasant experience, but needs must. She was walking down a corridor, her eyes still bleary with sleep, when she came face to face with a young man in flyers overalls. She tried to squeeze past him and, in doing so, trod on his foot.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘Not really awake yet.’
The young man looked at her.
‘My God, Tilly. What are you doing here?’
It was Ronnie.
‘Ronnie. Oh, thank God, thank God! You’re alive,’ Tilly gasped. ‘It’s so wonderful to see you.’
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him over and over, covering his face with an outpouring of love and relief at seeing him here, now, safe and with her.
Ronnie hugged and kissed her back.
‘Now, now, easy, mate,’ a soldier said as he passed them. ‘I guess you two are pleased to see one another.’
Tilly and Ronnie looked at each other and laughed.
‘You’ve got it wrong, mate,’ Ronnie said. ‘This is my sister.’
‘That’s good news for the rest of us,’ the soldier said. ‘She’s a pretty girl, your sister.’
Ronnie and Tilly spent the rest of the journey telling one another what had happened over the course of the past few months. Both stories were filled with examples of how exhausting the whole effort to stay alive was, and how the only thing sometimes that kept them going was the thought of England being invaded and the horrors that Hitler was visiting upon the people of Europe.
The troop train took them to the port of Cherbourg where they boarded the ship to take them to the shores of England and safety. The sea crossing seemed interminable. The sea was rough and Ronnie spent a good deal of time with his head over the railings trying to avoid the blow back from the wind.
‘A good thing you didn’t decide to enlist in the navy,’ Tilly joked.
Ronnie wasn’t in the mood for such quips and threw her a look that showed his disapproval.
Tilly felt the need to keep the mood between them as light-hearted as possible, when really all she could think about was the surging sea beneath them and what horrors might lay beneath. If they hit a mine or were within the sights of asubmarine or bomber aircraft, then their chances of surviving the cold waters of the Channel were slim unless they were lucky enough to get to the lifeboats in time. So, when the shoreline of the south coast came into view, Tilly felt a huge sense of relief. The ship docked at Portsmouth and Ronnie and Tilly disembarked. A troop train and medical services were waiting for them, and the badly wounded were transported to the local hospitals. Others made their way to rail connections across the country.
‘Let’s look for the next crossing to the Isle of Wight,’ Tilly said. ‘I want to get home as soon as possible. These clothes are going to walk there by themselves if they get much grubbier.’
Ronnie didn’t reply straight away and Tilly waited patiently for a response. He had a strange, preoccupied expression on his face.
‘Is there something troubling you, Ron?’ she asked. ‘I thought you’d be keen to get home too.’
‘I think I’m going to Micklewell first,’ he replied.
‘Of course. You want to see Sarah,’ Tilly said.
‘And Ma,’ Ronnie said. ‘I want to see Ma and Pa.’
Ronnie’s voice wavered and his hands shook as he took a cigarette out of his pocket. He fumbled for a match, but couldn’t find one. A soldier standing close to them offered him a light.
‘I didn’t realise you smoked, Ron,’ Tilly said.
‘Sometimes there are small comforts that help us get through,’ Ronnie replied.
‘Things happened back there in France that changed both of us,’ Tilly said. ‘Is there something that is troubling you? Something you want to talk about?’
Ronnie drew deeply on the cigarette.
‘I want to talk to Ma,’ Ronnie replied. ‘I had this strange feeling that I had some connection to the place I was hiding in and I don’t know what that could be. Before I left for France, shementioned a name, Philip, and I wondered if this person might have some connection to our family. I need to ask questions, Tilly,’ he said.
