Chapter 73

Helen heard another footstep on the stairs leading to the attic and covered her little boy's mouth with her hand. She forced a smile. ‘Remember, Bobby,' she whispered, ‘we mustn't make a sound.'

His small hand moved hers away. ‘Because the Nasties are in the house?'

Helen nodded, her heart breaking to think that hiding in an attic from the Nazi officers who were billeted next door was part of his daily life. ‘That's right.'

‘We're safe in our fort though, aren't we, Mummy?'

She raised a finger to her lips, hearing heavy soles slowly making their way to their tiny hiding place, behind the secret cupboard under the eaves.

Seeing he was about to speak she covered his mouth again and pulled a silly face. ‘We are safe in here, but we must shush now,' she said, hearing an unmistakable creak on the floorboard directly outside their attic room, followed by a squeak as the door was opened.

Desperate to clasp Bobby tightly against her, Helen resisted, aware that to do so might alert him to the seriousness of what was happening. He looked up at her, his large blue eyes so like his father's, and for the first time Helen saw fear.

Staring at the tiny shard of light piercing through a gap, Helen tensed as blackness enveloped them when the person entering the attic blocked the light as he passed their hiding place.

She felt Bobby's hands wrap around her arm and kissed the top of his head to comfort him. He began trembling almost as much as she was but didn't make a sound. He shouldn't have to be this brave at his age, she thought, struggling to control her emotions.

‘Helen?'

She stilled. It was a man's voice. A deep one. One she thought she recognised. She closed her eyes tightly. She was imagining things. Opening her eyes again, she looked down into Bobby's. They were wide and staring up at her.

‘Helen, are you up here somewhere? They said you would be.'

They? The only people who knew where she was were the Hamels and Tony, and Helen knew they wouldn't tell anyone about her and Bobby.

‘Helen? Please. It's perfectly safe now, I promise you. The island has been liberated.'

Richard? It couldn't be him. Could it? She must have fallen asleep and was dreaming. Or she was delirious, that was it.

‘Helen, I promise you everything will be fine now.' The voice she was hearing sounded so much like the one she had imagined time and again over the past five years, but how could he be here? She covered her mouth to stifle a whimper.

‘It's Richard. Sweetheart, I'm here with the liberating forces,' he said gently. ‘I promise you it's safe to come out now.' She heard his voice crack with emotion. ‘I've come for you and Bobby. I promise no one will hurt either of you ever again.'

Bobby glanced at the low door then back at her. ‘How does that Nasty know my name, Mummy?' he whispered trembling.

‘He isn't a Nasty, Bobby.'

‘Who is he?'

She felt a sob escape as she struggled to answer. ‘He's your daddy.'

Light filled the tiny space as the door slowly opened and Richard, looking thinner and older, knelt on the attic floor. ‘So this is where you've been hiding?'

His voice was gentle, and Helen knew he was trying not to frighten Bobby.

Helen opened her mouth to try and speak but Bobby interrupted her. ‘Are you my daddy?'

She clasped her hand over her mouth, the sight of her son's sweet face blurred by her tears.

Richard wiped his right eye with the back of his hand and cleared his throat. He took a second to speak. ‘Yes, Bobby. I'm your daddy. And I've come to fetch you and your mummy, so you'll never need to hide in this attic again.'

Richard reached in and held out his hand, waiting for Bobby to take it. The little boy looked up at Helen. ‘Mummy?'

‘It's all right, sweetheart.'

Bobby took Richard's hand and stepped out.

‘Your turn now, Mummy.'

She took Richard's hand, too, remembering the feel of it that last time on their walk in the park. She let him help her to her feet, her legs shaking.

‘Are you all right?' His deep voice soothed her.

‘I will be now.' She left her hand in his while she studied his face, aware he was doing the same to her. Then, feeling a tug on her skirt, she crouched to take Bobby in her arms. ‘You were a very brave boy.'

Bobby pushed her gently away and she saw he was trying to appear grown up. He looked up at his father. ‘I'm four and a half.'

Richard cleared his throat. ‘I know.'

‘Mummy and I play forts when the Nasties come.'

Richard frowned briefly, then smiled. ‘Ah, the Nasties. They won't be coming for you anymore.'

‘They won't?'

Richard shook his head. ‘Never again.'

‘Mummy, is that true?'

‘If that's what your daddy says, then I suppose it must be,' Helen said. She was barely able to take in what was happening. ‘We've definitely been liberated, then?'

‘Well and truly. Can't you hear all the cheering and singing?'

She could. Going over to the window, Helen lifted the catch and pushed it open, letting in the sounds of pure joy she had almost given up hope of ever hearing. ‘It's wonderful,' she said, crying.

‘It is. There are massive crowds in front of the Pomme d'Or and by the harbour. I think the islanders will be celebrating for a long while yet.'

She didn't doubt it.

She saw Bobby pull at Richard's uniformed leg. ‘Can we go and sing?'

‘If your mummy agrees.'

Helen decided she needed to see for herself that the hated Nazi emblem had been replaced by the Union Jack. See British soldiers in charge, instead of those she had spent the past five years hiding from. That might persuade her brain that this was real. ‘I do.'

‘Do you mind if I give Bobby a cuddle first?' Richard asked, crouching down again in front of Bobby.

‘I'd like it very much.'

She watched as Richard opened his arms and his son stepped into them. Richard's eyes closed for a few seconds before opening and looking directly at her. ‘Thank you,' he mouthed.

If the past five years had taught her anything, it was that life was too short and precious to waste. She hoped there was a future for the three of them. Now they had their freedom, it was time to make the most of it.

‘No, Richard,' she whispered. ‘Thank you for coming for us.'

He took her in his arms and kissed her, startling her for a second. His kiss was familiar but different in some way. There was an urgency about it that hadn't been there before.

‘There's no need to thank me, Helen. I should never have let you go. I promise to spend whatever time I have left making up for not being here for you both when you needed me most.'

She nestled into his arms, her head against his chest and her right hand on Bobby's back. After all they had gone through in the past five years Helen knew for certain that she and Bobby could be happy with this man.

‘I'd like that, Richard,' she said, kissing him again. ‘We both would.'