Last Goodbye

The bench in the park was old, the wood worn and cracked from years of rain, snow and sunshine, the brass trim turned to a coppery green and yet it was the most popular bench in the whole park.1

Perhaps it was because it was underneath a weeping willow tree overlooking the lake. Or perhaps it was because it was in a quieter corner of the park. There was no doubt, however, that it was the place for young lovers and courting couples to meet. 2

Today a woman sat there, quietly and alone. She was dressed in a plain dress of brown cotton. Her coat was done up to her chin from the encroaching cold. Despite this, her gloves lay in her lap and she sat, twisting the gold ring on the third finger of her left hand. She stared at the lake without seeing it, deep in her own thoughts, waiting.3

She did not hear his step as he approached. She made no movement as he sat beside her, instead she just sat staring out over the lake and at the ruined buildings left by Hitler’s bombers, huge jagged scars on the landscape.4

‘Elsie.’ His voice was quiet as he touched her arm, not wanting to disturb her.5

‘Barty!’ She turned, flung her arms around his neck and wept shamelessly into his shoulder. He held her, one hand stroking her back as he muttered nonsensical words to try and calm her.6

The storm of weeping gradually subsided and as she drew back from him, he pressed a handkerchief into her hand. It was white linen and smelled of his aftershave. She looked up at him, eyes bloodshot and nose red from crying. ‘Barty...I’m going to have a baby.’7

He sat perfectly still, allowing the news to sink in, feeling more than a little shellshocked. ‘What are you going to do?’ He asked huskily, taking her hand and stroking it.8

‘What do you want me to do?’9

He looked at her, stared into the large brown eyes and told her the truth. ‘I want you to be my wife, I want us to go away somewhere and live together. I want this war to be over with and I want you...’10

She lowered her head, dabbing futilely at her eyes with the handkerchief. ‘How can we? I’m married to another man and you’ve been called up.’11

He was quiet for a moment, thinking it over carefully. He knew the answers, had spent hours lying in bed beside her thinking of them. ‘We could manage it. It would be hard, but we could. If we went away somewhere, together, changed our names and got married.’12

‘So you’d make me a bigamist would you? Have our child born in a lie? No, we can’t do that. You know we can’t!’ She was shocked and tempted at the same time. Bearing the shame of being a mother with her husband gone these past two years was one thing, plenty more than her were in the same boat, lying about it was quite another. Elsie was many things, but not a liar.13

‘He’s probably dead, Elsie and if he does come back, what will you tell him?’ He took both her hands in his now, staring at her urgently. ‘Could you really live without me?’14

She swallowed hard and then shook her head. ‘No, I couldn’t.’ She stared out over the lake again. A family of ducks swam past, the breeze stirred the leaves on the ground and far away, a dog barked. Silence hung menacingly between them.15

He sat and waited for her answer. ‘But I will,’ she said at last. ‘He might be dead, but he might not. There’s no way of knowing, for now I’m a married woman and you’ve been called up. We’ve all got to do our duty Barty. You’re going off to fight the war, I will have this baby and we’ll deal with it all when the war is over. I love you Barty, I do, so much, but I can’t go and live a lie. I can’t bring our child up like that and it will always be hanging over us.’16

Her chin was set, her lips stretched into a thin line, he knew better than to argue with her. Her mind was made up, there would be no changing it now. ‘Elsie...’ He didn’t know what else to say, didn’t know how to convey the wash of feelings that consumed him. Love for her, fear for her, fear for himself, wonder at the idea of a child and lastly, a sense of something breaking inside of him. 17

He kissed her, strongly, passionately and as if it was the last kiss he would ever give her. ‘I’m coming back.  I’m coming back.’ He aware that he was crying and hated himself for it. Hated that he couldn’t be strong for her and say all the right things to make it better. She was right, that was the hardest thing, she was right and he knew it.18

She shivered and shook her head. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep.’ She swallowed hard and he saw the effort it cost her not to give in to weeping again. She turned her head away, squeezed his hand hard. ‘No goodbyes now, Barty. I’ve had enough of them in the last three years. Just go on, do your best for England, for me, for the baby.’19

He wanted to hold her again, but she was turned away from him, every line in her body tense and unwelcoming. He raised the cold hand that was still in his and pressed it to his lips. ‘You’re mine Elsie, even if he comes home alive, you’re still mine. If I have to, I’ll fight him for you.’ He pressed the palm of her hand against his cheek, felt the cold warmth of it and closed his eyes for a moment to remember. Her fingers moved against his cheek, stroking gently and then slid away.20

He picked up his hat, stood, straightened his uniform and walked away without looking back. Elsie, left on the bench alone, closed her eyes and wept silent, heartbroken tears. There was nothing she could do now except wait and hope and pray.