Telegrams and Teacakes: A heartbreaking World War Two family saga by Amy Miller

Author:Amy Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781786815385
Publisher: Bookouture

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The train journey home was spent in exhausted silence. A group of drunken American GIs burst into their carriage at one point, but they must have read the atmosphere, because they left as quickly as they arrived. With her arms folded over her middle, Elsie gazed out of the window, allowing the rhythmic movement of the train to calm her fraught state. She thought of her father, Alberto, in the prisoner-of-war camp on the Isle of Man and the cheerful letters he sent home to her mother and the twins. She longed to speak to him and see him and talk to him about her life. A single tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek. She didn’t – couldn’t – look at William, who she knew was either asleep or pretending to be asleep. She was too raw from everything that had happened to choose the right words.

Back at the bakery, without acknowledging her, William went to help John, while Elsie walked up the stairs to the kitchen with legs that were weighted with lead, gripping onto the bannister and pulling herself up. She could hear that Audrey was in the kitchen, pot-washing. Instructing herself not to put her worries on Audrey’s shoulders, she forced a smile onto her face as she entered the kitchen.

‘I’m just toasting a teacake,’ said Audrey. ‘Can I do you one? They’re still good. Then you can tell me all about it. And I’ll not have you spare me the details. I know that look. You’ve had a hell of a day, haven’t you?’

Elsie nodded, so grateful for the normality of Audrey and the warmth and rhythm of bakery life. With a deep sigh she allowed Audrey to coax the day’s horrible experience out of her and was relieved to reveal her deepest fears about William, though she knew it hurt Audrey terribly to hear of it.

‘Perhaps he needs proper medical treatment,’ said Elsie quietly. ‘Barbiturates, or the deep sleep treatment, something like that?’

Audrey sat back in her chair and massaged her bump, deep in thought.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t seem right for him.’

‘I think I should write to Mrs Fielding,’ said Elsie. ‘To explain.’

Audrey shook her head and smiled warmly at Elsie.

‘No, love,’ she said. ‘That poor lady can’t give you comfort, nor can you give her comfort. I would leave that wound alone now. Concentrate on helping to heal William.’

‘I thought I was,’ said Elsie, tears dripping down her face. Audrey grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

‘I know, love,’ she said, ‘and you have been helping him. Perhaps it’s just a matter of letting more time pass. We must be patient and gentle with him, not expect him to snap out of it.’

An image of herself slapping William round the face leapt into Elsie’s mind and she flushed with shame, rubbing her palm, which still stung a little from the slap. She should have been more patient and more understanding. But when the person you loved more

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