Page 72 of The Sapphire Child
Esmie gripped his arm. ‘Tom?’ she gasped.
Stella started to shake.
Tom’s eyes filled with tears. He cleared his throat. ‘Andy...Andy’s alive. Tibby says he was rescued from Dunkirk.’ He let out a sob.
Esmie took the telegram from him and read it herself. ‘Oh, thank God!’ she cried.
Stella and Hester hugged.
‘Is he at home?’ asked the baroness.
‘Tibby doesn’t say,’ said Esmie, ‘so I suppose not yet. It was wired four days ago. But he’s definitely back in Britain.’
Stella couldn’t hold back her tears. ‘Oh, what a relief! I’m so glad!’
Tom reached for Esmie and clung to her. Gently she guided him onto a sofa and sat beside him. Tom broke down weeping. Esmie held him and stroked his hair.
‘It’s all right, my darling,’ she crooned. ‘He’s safe. Our boy is safe.’
Stella’s chest constricted at the sight. With a nod from Hester, they both retreated inside the hotel and left the Lomaxes alone.
Chapter 25
Ebbsmouth, June 1940
The overcrowded train shunted into Ebbsmouth late at night. They had travelled without lights on but the midsummer night shed an eerie glow through the windows. Andrew could see the outline of figures around him, hunched on benches or hunkered down on the floor, asleep or smoking in silence. Some, like him, were still in grubby combat clothing, stinking and utterly exhausted. Most were heading on to Edinburgh or Glasgow.
Stiffly, Andrew stood up and stepped over sleeping bodies to get to the carriage door. He felt a mix of relief to be in sight of home and dread at leaving the other soldiers who had been through what he had. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the horror of the retreat through Belgium and France; the roads clogged with fleeing civilians being bombed from above. He couldn’t rid his senses of the stench of rotting flesh and cordite, the screams of the dying and the sight of lifeless children strewn in ditches like rag dolls.
‘Good luck, sir.’ One of the soldiers – Jocks as they were affectionately known in the Scottish regiments – saluted him.
Andrew shook him by the hand. ‘And good luck to you too, Private.’
In the half-dark, Andrew saw indistinct figures at the station barrier. He could see that one wore a large hat with a feather: Auntie Tibby. His eyes smarted and he felt a flood of affection. It took him back to his very first arrival as a callow youth on this very same platform – with Stella at his side – meeting his Ebbsmouth relations for the first time. Fleetingly, he wondered if word had got through to his father that he was safely returned from France. Did Stella know and, if so, how much would it mean to her?
Andrew shook off the thought. He was about to be reunited with some of the people he cared for most.
His mother rushed at him first. ‘My darling!’ Lydia clasped him, swallowing down a sob.
He patted her back. ‘I’m fine. A bit smelly, but all in one piece.’
She pulled away and fumbled for a handkerchief. ‘Yes, you do rather whiff.’ She half-laughed, half-cried. ‘Surely they could have given you a good bath and fresh clothes?’
‘It was all a bit chaotic,’ Andrew said, suppressing the memory of being crammed onto an overloaded merchant ship with men dying of their wounds and medics frantically trying to staunch blood and save lives. ‘They just wanted to get people onto trains and north as quickly as possible.’
Tibby hugged him, not caring what state he was in. ‘I’m so glad to see you home, dear boy. I’ve wired your father to let him know you’re safe.’
‘Thank you, Auntie.’ Andrew kissed her cheek.
‘Where’s your kit bag?’ Lydia asked.
‘In France, Mamma,’ Andrew said with a grim smile.
‘Oh goodness. Oh, yes. I really can’t bear to think what you’ve been through,’ said Lydia. ‘We’ll not talk about it. Come on, let’s get you home.’ She steered him out of the station, chattering in relief. ‘Felicity wanted to come and greet you too, but I said she would have to wait till tomorrow. I want you to myself for a few hours – I know how she monopolises you once you’re home. Will they let you stay long?’
‘Not long,’ said Andrew, feeling weak with fatigue. He could hardly put one foot in front of the other. He was relieved Felicity wasn’t going to see him like this.
‘You look dead on your feet,’ said Tibby. ‘Go straight home. No need to drop me off at The Anchorage, Lydia, I’ll walk back.’
