being discussed in the house about
the current war situation. Did they know what was coming?
She had been strictly forbidden to leave the confines of the house in the
orchard – it was part of the deal – but two nights ago, shortly after midnight,
curiosity had driven her to determine the source of the constant, deep
rumblings emanating from the village. What she saw took her breath
away. Dozens and dozens of lorries, jeeps and tanks, over-spilling with
Allied troops, clattered down the main road. Silent villagers peered
through their black-out curtains at the spectacle before them. Emily
guessed where they were heading – towards the coast ready for an imminent
invasion of France. What did this mean? Was the war finally
coming to an end? What about Hitler’s secret weapon that she had heard
murmurings of? This wasn’t supposed to be how it all went. This
wasn’t the plan…
Emily shuddered
as a sudden gust of wind violently shook the window. She turned to the
baby to see if it had disturbed him: he was still sound asleep in his
cot. She wondered what would happen to him with the war’s latest twist,
but couldn’t bear to follow her train of thought to its obvious
conclusion. Moving away from the window, Emily quietly sat at the large oak
table and picked up the only photograph she had of her and the baby boy.
Apart from only one other photograph of her, she had destroyed all other images
of her family, burning them in a memory-erasing pyre in May 1940. She set
the photograph down, took a pen and a pad of notepaper and began to write the
letter that she had hoped she would never have to write.
With painful
tears cascading down her cheeks, Emily signed the letter and tucked it inside
an envelope. There was little sense in sealing it. If what she
sensed was going to happen actually did, then they would tear this place apart
pretty soon.
Emily carefully
placed the letter and the photograph of her and the baby inside the beautiful
copper box, which had been created for the wedding that would now never take
place. Drying her eyes, she put the copper box inside a small brown
suitcase and then set about packing essential clothes for the both of them.
Chapter Five
Saturday
Morton was woken by the sound of his
mobile ringing from somewhere in the house. He would usually have
switched it off at night, preferring not to hear whatever bad news someone
wanted to share, but in light of recent events he thought it better to leave it
switched on. He followed the trail of noise into the lounge, like a child
following the Pied Piper playing the iPhone ring tone, where he found his
mobile. Jeremy’s name appeared onscreen and Morton’s heart sank.
‘Morning.
Not too early is it?’ Jeremy asked.
‘Nope,’ Morton
answered, a little too sharply and then regretted it when Jeremy said, ‘I just
wanted to check you were coming tonight; you didn’t reply to my email.’
‘Sorry, I’ve
had a lot on my mind,’ Morton said defensively.
‘So, are you
coming then? It’d be really good to see you before I go. It’s been
ages.’
‘I’ll do my
best. Like I said, I’ve had a lot on my mind.’ He was being too
harsh, he knew that, yet he couldn’t stop himself. He needed at least to try to be more upbeat. ‘Are you all set for your adventure then?’
‘Think so,
ready as I can be,’ Jeremy said. There was a long pause, Morton not
knowing what else to say. He wanted to tell Jeremy to take care and be
careful and keep his eyes open and not to treat it as a big game. Not to
go at all, in fact. What would their father do if his little miracle
had his head blown off by the Taleban? Or what if he ended up in a
wheelchair? Then what? Who’d look after him? He wanted to
say all of this but instead said, ‘Okay, we’ll hopefully see you tonight,
then.’
Jeremy said
goodbye and hung up.
‘Damn,’ Morton
chastised himself. He
the current war situation. Did they know what was coming?
She had been strictly forbidden to leave the confines of the house in the
orchard – it was part of the deal – but two nights ago, shortly after midnight,
curiosity had driven her to determine the source of the constant, deep
rumblings emanating from the village. What she saw took her breath
away. Dozens and dozens of lorries, jeeps and tanks, over-spilling with
Allied troops, clattered down the main road. Silent villagers peered
through their black-out curtains at the spectacle before them. Emily
guessed where they were heading – towards the coast ready for an imminent
invasion of France. What did this mean? Was the war finally
coming to an end? What about Hitler’s secret weapon that she had heard
murmurings of? This wasn’t supposed to be how it all went. This
wasn’t the plan…
Emily shuddered
as a sudden gust of wind violently shook the window. She turned to the
baby to see if it had disturbed him: he was still sound asleep in his
cot. She wondered what would happen to him with the war’s latest twist,
but couldn’t bear to follow her train of thought to its obvious
conclusion. Moving away from the window, Emily quietly sat at the large oak
table and picked up the only photograph she had of her and the baby boy.
Apart from only one other photograph of her, she had destroyed all other images
of her family, burning them in a memory-erasing pyre in May 1940. She set
the photograph down, took a pen and a pad of notepaper and began to write the
letter that she had hoped she would never have to write.
With painful
tears cascading down her cheeks, Emily signed the letter and tucked it inside
an envelope. There was little sense in sealing it. If what she
sensed was going to happen actually did, then they would tear this place apart
pretty soon.
Emily carefully
placed the letter and the photograph of her and the baby inside the beautiful
copper box, which had been created for the wedding that would now never take
place. Drying her eyes, she put the copper box inside a small brown
suitcase and then set about packing essential clothes for the both of them.
Chapter Five
Saturday
Morton was woken by the sound of his
mobile ringing from somewhere in the house. He would usually have
switched it off at night, preferring not to hear whatever bad news someone
wanted to share, but in light of recent events he thought it better to leave it
switched on. He followed the trail of noise into the lounge, like a child
following the Pied Piper playing the iPhone ring tone, where he found his
mobile. Jeremy’s name appeared onscreen and Morton’s heart sank.
‘Morning.
Not too early is it?’ Jeremy asked.
‘Nope,’ Morton
answered, a little too sharply and then regretted it when Jeremy said, ‘I just
wanted to check you were coming tonight; you didn’t reply to my email.’
‘Sorry, I’ve
had a lot on my mind,’ Morton said defensively.
‘So, are you
coming then? It’d be really good to see you before I go. It’s been
ages.’
‘I’ll do my
best. Like I said, I’ve had a lot on my mind.’ He was being too
harsh, he knew that, yet he couldn’t stop himself. He needed at least to try to be more upbeat. ‘Are you all set for your adventure then?’
‘Think so,
ready as I can be,’ Jeremy said. There was a long pause, Morton not
knowing what else to say. He wanted to tell Jeremy to take care and be
careful and keep his eyes open and not to treat it as a big game. Not to
go at all, in fact. What would their father do if his little miracle
had his head blown off by the Taleban? Or what if he ended up in a
wheelchair? Then what? Who’d look after him? He wanted to
say all of this but instead said, ‘Okay, we’ll hopefully see you tonight,
then.’
Jeremy said
goodbye and hung up.
‘Damn,’ Morton
chastised himself. He
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