It went like that for the first week. My life by day was beautiful and tranquil, and at night, it was romantic and exciting. Phillip brought me flowers or presents, including records of every song I wanted. Most nights, Phillip slept peacefully in my arms, but sometimes, he was awakened by nightmares and told tales of men screaming, of holding on to a piece of the bombed-out ship for dear life. “A man was pleading with me. I helped him onto a beam from the ship, but I couldn’t hold him. My arms . . . they felt like they were being ripped off. I saw him sink below the water! I could do nothing. Nothing.”
“How awful,” I said, remembering how helpful Mary had said Phillip was.
“It was. And all night, as we waited to be rescued, people were singing ‘There Will Always Be an England’ and ‘Beer Barrel Polka’ over and over, as more people gave up and drowned. I wish I never had to hear those two songs again.”
“Why does no one know about this, the tragedy?” I asked him.
“They told us not to tell anyone. Not the press, no one. They threatened us with court martial if we told. If people knew of such a disaster, it would make them lose hope.”
I thought about those long nights sitting in our homes, the continued threat of bombings, rationing, and gloom. It was worth it because we were going to win. We were going to defeat the evil Axis powers. To know that thousands had been killed in one night would make people lose hope.
But what if hope was lost? What if England were to lose?
“But this way,” I said, “it seems like it never happened, like it was all a nightmare.”
“A nightmare that just keeps happening,” he said, and I could hear his voice shaking.
“Oh, my poor love,” I said, taking him in my arms.
When I touched his face, I felt the roughness of the skin on one cheek. I had felt it before. I knew he had injuries. I didn’t care. I was falling more and more in love with him.
After a week of this, I asked him, “Would it be all right if I visited my mother and my sisters? I’m so lonely during the day.”
“Of course, my love. Or bring them over here so they can see where we live.”
I loved that idea, showing off my beautiful flat to Esther and Ethel, who had always been so great compared to me, because there were two of them, and they were older. They’d be so impressed now! Perhaps they would even want to stay over. So on Tuesday, I had them over for tea. Although we were rationing, we brought out the jam, and Mary even made a cake for my family. We set out the good china, and the silver was polished until it sparkled. Phillip brought roses, and the house smelled like Regent’s Park. I wondered what had happened to his plan of us visiting there.
When my family came in, they gasped. All of them, collectively.
“You look . . . lovely.” I saw Ethel’s eyes fix upon my pearls, an elegant double strand that had been Phillip’s mother’s. She seized them. “Are those real?”
“I think so,” I said. They were.
“You can tell by running your teeth over them,” Ethel said, tugging at them.
“Maybe later,” I said.
“And your dress.” Esther touched the green wool of the dress I had bought the day before, and I saw her noticing the emerald earrings Phillip left on the nightstand that very morning. “So lovely. I never have nice things anymore.”
“At least we won’t have to sit in the dark anymore,” Ethel said.
“What do you mean?” I asked. I led them to the dining room, where again I saw their eyes fixing upon the elegant wallpaper, the expensive sconces. Even Mum ran her hands across the back of a chair.
“We’re moving to the country to stay with Aunt Lydia,” Mum said. “You could come with us.”
“Oh no,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to leave, to leave Phillip.”
“But you’ve only known him a week,” Esther said. “You had to marry him, not stay with him.”
“I do have to stay, because . . .” I thought of the nights spent in Phillip’s arms. “I love him. He’s so kind, and so intelligent. We stay up late and listen to music, and talk of . . . our dreams. Phillip plays the piano.”
“He plays the piano?” Esther asked.
“Beautifully. He says he’ll teach me too. I’ve never been so happy.”
Ethel looked down. “And what does he look like?” she asked. “He must be very handsome.”
“I suppose he is,” I said.
“What do you mean, you suppose?” Esther asked.
“Well, I don’t exactly . . . I haven’t seen him.” I looked around, wishing Mary would come in with the tea. “Let me go see what’s taking the tea.” I stood and started out of the room.
Ethel grabbed my arm. “What do you mean, you haven’t seen him?”
“It’s only been a week since we’ve been married. He’s only been here at night.”
“So late at night?” Esther asked.
“He works so hard. He has an important job, and he’s away from dawn to dusk. But we have the most wonderful talks and—”