‘I thought they had killed you!’ It all tumbled out in a sob. ‘I heard you had been beaten and then disappeared. I thought you were dead and I blamed myself. I’m so sorry that I got you in trouble that day. All this’ – I indicated his leg and his walking stick – ‘It’s my fault!’
Dr Archie shuffled closer along the bench and put his arm around me, pulling me close to him.
‘Shhh, there now, Dorothy,’ he soothed as I cried against his shoulder. ‘Everything is alright. The war is over and we’re both here and alive. I’d say that’s something to be thankful for. Don’t cry, my dear, I can’t bear to see you cry.’
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Noel reached up and took it from him, then proceeded to wipe my tears away, which made us both smile.
I cannot describe the relief that I felt on seeing Dr Archie alive and well. The fear that I had been responsible for his death had hung over me like a black cloud for over a year. But it wasn’t only relief that I felt, it was that old feeling of calm reassurance that I had always felt in his presence. It was exactly what I needed.
Over the next couple of weeks of the voyage, Noel and I spent most of our time with Dr Archie and we grew close. We shared our tales of the last few years in captivity as well as stories from our former lives. He was so good with Noel and it was wonderful to see my little boy’s confidence grow as they played together. And, truth be told, it was wonderful to have someone to take care of me. He was the kindest of men and spending time with him made me feel happier than I could remember being for quite some time.
One evening, we were sitting on the deck after dinner, watching the sun set. Noel was safely tucked up asleep in bed, watched by our cabin-mate, Nora.
‘Tell me, what are your plans when we get back to England?’ he asked.
I sighed, knowing what lay ahead. ‘I have to visit Noel’s grandparents in Wiltshire. I promised his mother that I would take him there.’ Even though the thought of it broke my heart, I knew that I had to keep my promise.
‘And then? After that, where will you go?’
I shrugged. ‘London, I suppose. I need to find my brother and visit my best friend, Daisy, in Fulham. What about you?’
‘I’m going home, Dorothy, to Cornwall.’ Dr Archie considered me thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Would you like to come with me?’
I smiled at his kind offer. ‘For a visit? Why yes, that would be lovely. Perhaps in a fewweeks, once I’ve found Thomas and spent some time in London?’
But the doctor was shaking his head. ‘No, that’s not what I meant. Dorothy, I know I’m a lot older than you and this is probably rather sudden, but I was wondering . . . ’
He rose from the seat and sank, rather clumsily, down onto the deck. I thought for a moment that he’d dropped something and was looking for it, but he continued.
‘Dorothy, I didn’t mean for you to come to Cornwall as a visitor. I was wondering, well, hoping, that you might do me the very great honour of coming with me as my wife?’
I gave a gasp of surprise. Dr Archie took my small, cold hand in his warm, soft one. It was the strangest sensation, Ah Ling, but his touch had the most wonderfully reassuring effect and I instantly felt safe.
‘You see, I’ve always been so terribly fond of you,’ he continued, his voice catching a little. ‘Ever since you started your training at the Alexandra Military Hospital. And now, more than ever, I can’t bear the thought of our parting when we reach Southampton. I hope it’s not too arrogant to say that I think I could make you happy. And after everything we’ve been through, I think we both deserve a little happiness. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Then he gave a shy smile. ‘Truth be told, I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with you. I do believe I can make you happy, Dorothy, if you wouldgive me the chance. I want to take care of you. Please say you’ll consider it?’
It was not the head over heels romance of my first engagement, far from it. I was older and wiser now, battle-scarred from both my marriage to Douglas and years as a prisoner of war. But it had not left me cynical. I knew what mattered and what was important to me now, and Dr Archie was offering it all: respect, kindness, loyalty and affection. I had grown so fond of him and knew that Noel adored him, too.
My heart felt full and tears blurred my vision as I stroked his hand in mine. ‘Will we live by the sea?’ I asked.
His face broke into the widest grin. ‘We will live wherever you choose, my darling! Does that mean what I think it means?’
I was so choked with emotion that all I could do was nod my agreement and smile through tears of joy. I pulled him back onto the bench beside me and he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me, slowly and gently. And I felt like I had come home.
We were married by the ship’s captain, a few days off the coast of Portugal, the day before we docked in Southampton; Tuesday the 16th of October, 1945. It was the second time around for both of us and it could not have been more different from the first. Instead of a full church and a fancy dress, it was just us with the captain and two of his crew as witnesses. Our cabin-mate Norahad proved a good friend; not only did she offer to take care of Noel for me, but she also gave me a pretty pink dress to wear for the occasion - a third-hand donation from the Red Cross, no less. Archie had shaved off his beard and looked handsome in a smart white shirt and navy-blue tie.
The captain arranged a simple wedding breakfast for us and played a Glenn Miller record on the gramophone. It was the first time I had heard ‘In the Mood’ and it became an instant favourite. Archie couldn’t dance because of his injured leg, but the music was so cheerful and uplifting that I couldn’t help myself and I enjoyed being twirled around by the first mate. The whole event was nothing like our first weddings, but it was full of joy and hope for our future together.
Autumn welcomed us home to England with her overcast skies and crisp morning air as we docked in Southampton. But nothing could spoil the joy I felt at being back in my home country. I had been away for a little over seven years and so much had changed. All around us, we saw the scars of war, wounds that were yet to heal, but the mood was optimistic and cheerful. In true British spirit, everyone was looking ahead to the future and striving to get their lives back on track.
Noel stared out at this foreign, grey place and his forehead wrinkled. He shivered inside his new woollen sweater, whose scratchycollar had been bothering him all morning. ‘It’s so cold, Mama!’ were his first words as he stepped off the gangplank and onto British soil for the first time. I smiled, but felt an ache in my heart as I wondered; for how much longer would I be his mama?
After much agonising, Archie and I decided that our first stop must be Wiltshire. My promise had been to deliver Noel to his grandparents so that they could take care of him, so that was what I must do. Over the past few months, I had allowed myself to daydream that there would be some reason that they could not take him. Perhaps they would be too elderly, too infirm, or just plain unwilling to take care of a small, lively three-year-old who would disrupt their peaceful lives. Or maybe, just maybe, they would understand that I was his mother now and he belonged with me. I had many sleepless nights before we arrived in Wiltshire.
Our first morning in the pretty village of Wilton was spent trying to find Highcliffe Manor, the home of the Llewellyn family. But it was a fruitless task. We asked everywhere, at the post office, the church and even the local public house, but no one could help. And what’s more, no one had heard of a family named Llewellyn living in the area. It was the strangest thing.
In the end, we gave up searching and caught the bus into the county town ofSalisbury. There, we were able to visit the town hall and spoke to a very helpful man in the public records office. He obligingly took all the details and promised to look into it while we found somewhere for lunch, for we were exhausted and hungry. I’m sure you can imagine my complete and utter shock when we returned a few hours later to learn that neither Highcliffe Manor, nor the Llewellyns, existed.
