12May2024
I never imagined Id be the sort of man who writes down his own thoughts, but today I felt the need to put paper to pen before the memory slips away.
This morning I was standing on the edge of the village green, my hand on Toms shoulder, my cheek pressed against his cheek as he prepared to board the Army transport bound for the training camp at Aldersgate. The tears in my blue eyes were stubborn; saying goodbye to the boy Id loved since we were both in secondary school seemed unbearable.
Dont worry, love, Tom whispered, looking me straight in the eye. Time will fly, and Ill be back before you know it. Nothing will happen to me, just wait for me.
I nodded, trying to smile. Ill wait, Tom. At least well have the telephone now, even if its just a clunky landline. Mum always says people used to write letters that got lost in the post.
He gave a small laugh. Exactly, a quick call will keep us close.
An officers voice crackled over the loudspeaker: Line up, lads! A rollcall followed, then another shout: Take your seats on the bus!
Tom waved at his parents from the window as the bus rolled away. Beside me, Sarah the girl whod always been a thorn in our side, ever since we were in Year 10 smiled sweetly, her eyes locking onto Toms.
Whys she here? I wondered, watching her linger as Emily turned and walked away, her shoulders hunched as if bracing against a cold wind. I could see she was terrified Sarah might start another bout of gossip.
Emilys family lived in the neighboring hamlet of Brookfield, while she studied at the local college in the market town of Ashford. Every weekend shed hop on the last bus home, and every Sunday evening Tom would see her off from the same stop. After leaving school, Tom had taken a job at the local post office, waiting for his callup. Hed meet Emily at the bus depot each Saturday, their parting always tinged with the promise of reunion.
Our romance had begun in Year 10, in parallel classes. Sarah, a former classmate, had made it her mission to split us up, spreading rumours and turning her friends against Emily. Emily, with her radiant smile, bright blue eyes and golden hair, was the sort of girl every lad in town admired. Tom, a lanky blond with a warm grey gaze, matched her perfectly. During lunch breaks theyd sit together, whispering, while other girls stared with a mix of envy and disdain, fuelled by Sarahs whispering.
One of our classmates, Claire, tried to intervene: Sarahs always twisting things about you, Emily. Cant she just leave us alone? I replied, Let her babble. Tom knows who I am, and I care little for the rest.
At our schools graduation we all sipped a modest amount of sparkling wine. Later that night we roamed the riverside park, strumming a battered guitar, singing about adulthood. Some lads fell asleep on benches from the cold.
The night took a turn when Sarah, who had apparently never touched alcohol before, stumbled over to Tom, clinging to his neck and then pressing her lips to his. The crowd fell silent; Emily stood frozen as Tom wrestled free.
Sarah, what on earth are you doing? he barked, pushing her away. Youve had too much champagne.
Sarah laughed, Youll still be mine, Tom.
Tom took Emilys hand and led her away from the chaos. You alright, love? he asked.
She smiled, Nothing can ever tear us apart. We trust each other. She wore a softblue dress that matched the colour of her eyes, a large bow tucked onto her shoulder.
By dawn I had escorted Emily home and then headed back to work. She passed her entrance exams and secured a place at the college. From that moment on, I shuttled her between her lectures and home, a routine that steadied both of us.
Sarah, ever the schemer, saw Emilys move to Ashford as an opportunity: Finally Ill have a chance to win Tom over. She even tried to befriend Toms mother, Margaret, who lived two doors down, dropping by with tea and biscuits while pretending to be concerned about the couple.
Margaret, our dear Emily has found herself a wealthy lad in the city, Sarah whispered one afternoon, Shes trying to lure Tom away.
Margaret, a weary but sharp woman, replied, I dont think thats true. Tom and Emily are solid as a rock.
In the village, gossip about Margarets own turbulent marriage and her husband, nicknamed Benny the Lollypop (a term the locals used for him) was common knowledge, but no one dared bring it up at the kitchen table.
Three months after Toms conscription, Sarah, under the guise of a neighbour, asked Margaret for Toms address, claiming a school friend needed it. Margaret, unsuspecting, handed over the details. That very day Sarah penned a letter to Tom, full of insinuations about Emily becoming a homewrecker. Tom, trusting his mothers words, began to doubt Emily.
When I called Emily from the barracks one night, Toms voice sounded sharp, almost foreign. Hey, Emily, how are you? he asked, the tone dripping with accusation.
Fine, but why are you speaking like a stranger, Tom? Have you been drinking? I shot back.
Youre lying to me, youve betrayed me, he snapped before hanging up.
Emily, returning home for the weekend, locked herself in her room, waiting for a soldier who never came back. Rumours spread that Sarah had gone to the base pregnant, further muddying the waters.
Mothers Day arrived, and Emily spent three days at home, her spirits low. My mother and my sister prepared a modest feast, while my younger brother, Sam, now sixteen, bought a bunch of tulips for the ladies. He entered Emilys room with a grin, Emily, may everything turn out for the best youll be happy.
She thanked him with a quick kiss on the cheek. The day turned dreary; a heavy, wet snowfall began, the kind that rattles the roofs tiles. The weight threatened to collapse the old thatch, and Sam raced outside, looking for help. An unfamiliar boy named Greg, whod stopped by to deliver flowers to Aunt Vera, answered the call.
Greg, could you lend a hand? The roofs buckling under the snow, Sam shouted.
Greg, a city lad visiting from Leeds, grabbed a pair of warm mittens and climbed onto the roof, his fingers numb. I handed him the mittens, and Emily, blushing, gave him a quick smile.
When the roof was secured, Greg lingered at the table. Emily, fancy a walk after this? he asked.
She answered, cheeks flushing, Id love that.
Later, at the dinner table, the family laughed, hearing the soft rustle of their conversation. My mother sighed, Thank heavens shes back to herself. Sam added, A little mischief goes a long way.
Six months later we celebrated Emily and Gregs wedding. Aunt Vera, watching the happy couple, repeated the old saying, Whats meant to be will happen.
Emily stayed in Ashford after college, building a life with Greg. As for me, I learned that love, like a wellkept diary, needs honesty, patience, and the courage to write your own ending.
Lesson: Trust the truth you hold dear, and never let the whispers of others drown out your own hearts voice.
