With You Always by Lynne Hallett

Molly had given Bill the watch to remember her by. Now it had come back to her . . .

BILL downed the measure of rum and took a last drag on his roll-up, forcing himself to exhale as slowly as possible.

It was hard to stay still, and the instinct to pace back and forth was strong, but there was hardly room to swing a cat in here, let alone have a good leg stretch. How much longer now?

He delved into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the watch which had nestled close to his heart from the day Molly had given it to him, following the inscribed command on the back, which read:

Keep me with you always.

Every time he looked at it, he conjured up her beautiful face, her brown eyes twinkling mischievously, the lovely little rosebud lips which he longed to kiss again. He hadn’t seen her for so long it made his heart ache.

He flicked open the silver lid. Thirteen minutes past one. One more minute to go.

A voice boomed out. “Action stations!” “Yes, sir,” he chimed in unison with the others.

It was time to put the watch back in its safe haven, along with his photograph of Molly and the letters she wrote him, overflowing with messages of love and hope.

He walked out of the dug-out, through the trench to the bottom of the ladder. His heart was racing, though inside he was still warm after drinking the rum.

The whistle blew. He scrambled up the rungs of the ladder and over the top, screaming for all he was worth and firing randomly into the void.

****

Molly paced backwards and forwards.

“What’s up with you, love?” her mam asked, looking up from her knitting. “You’re like a caged lion.”

“I don’t know. I just can’t settle.” She paused at the window and looked out into the street.

It was completely deserted. Unsurprising, really, as rain was pelting down. Big splashes of water hit the windows and rolled down like tears.

Suddenly she was gripped by fear. She felt as though her heart and lungs were being squeezed by a giant fist.

Her breathing became ragged and she felt sick to the stomach.

Her mother gasped. “My word, lass, you’re as white as a sheet. Come and sit down before you fall down.”

She felt her mam’s arms around her and allowed herself to be led to the settee.

“I’ll pour you a nip of brandy. It’ll bring the colour back to your face.”

She was vaguely aware of the sound of her mother opening a cupboard door then shutting it, undoing the lid of a bottle, and then the gurgle of liquid being poured into a glass.

Soon she had the glass in her hands and sipped the brandy. It was hot and coursed through her, making her cough a little at first.

She continued to drink, praying silently that this was not one of those feelings she had experienced before.

Suddenly, an intense pain and then nothing. Absolutely nothing. The moment had passed.

She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was a quarter past one.

****

Four days later the telegram came. She sat, frozen, gripping the piece of paper tightly.

“What does it say, Molly?”

She couldn’t speak but felt the telegram being gently prised from her hand.

“Missing in action.” Mam exhaled. “Well, where there’s life, there’s hope.”

“He’s dead,” Molly whispered.

“That’s not what it says. Missing can mean all sorts of things, can’t it? Maybe he’s been taken prisoner or something.”

“You don’t understand, Mam. I can’t feel anything. I haven’t felt anything since Sunday. He’s gone. I don’t care what that says. I know.” Her voice trembled and she could feel tears beginning to spill down her cheeks. “I’m never going to see him again, Mam. What am I going to do?”

Her mam sniffed. “What all the other lasses round here are having to do, love. Just take each day as it comes, and live life for the two of you.”

“I’ll have to let John and Jessie know.”

“Let me. I’ll take this to them and put them in the picture.”

****

The next morning when Molly opened her eyes, the weight of yesterday’s news crushed her again. Her heart contracted.

How would it be possible to bear so much pain? She wandered to the window, drew back the curtains and saw the first rays of the early spring sunlight shining weakly through the clouds.

It was making an effort; she would have to make an effort.

She got herself washed and dressed for work and headed downstairs.

“Breakfast, love?” Her mam turned towards her, concern etched on her face.

“No, thanks. I’d better get off to the factory.”

“You have to eat, Molly, or you’ll waste away.”

“I can’t face anything right now, Mam. Maybe later.” She grabbed her coat and hurried

away before Mam could say anything else.

As she headed down the street, she could think of nothing other than Bill. They’d been married just before he went to war.

“That way,” he’d said, “if anything happens to me, you’ll be provided for.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she replied.

“We have to face facts, Moll. I’ll do everything I can to come back to you, but I’m in God’s hands.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it away. She had to get through the day. Falling to pieces wasn’t going to help.

The routine work at the factory was just what she needed. It was mindless, but it kept her occupied, and as one day merged into another, a week passed and then another and then another.

One evening when she got back from the factory, her mam was all of a lather.

“I’ve been on pins all day,” she said. “This came for you.”

She handed a small packet to Molly.

Molly’s heart began to beat faster. What could be inside?

She sat down on the settee and with trembling fingers began to unpick the tape. She put her hand inside and pulled out Bill’s pocket watch.

She gasped. How on earth had this made its way to her?

She put it to one side for a moment and looked inside the envelope. There was a piece of paper inside, folded in half. She opened it up. It was a letter. “What does it say, love?” Her mam sounded breathless.

“Give me a minute, Mam,” she said, scanning the letter’s contents.

“Go on. Don’t keep me in suspense. Read it to me.”

Molly cleared her throat and began to read aloud.

“Dear Mrs Flower,

It is with deep regret that I find myself writing to you, and I wish it were not the case, but I am keeping a promise to Bill. We were mates, and he asked me to write to you if anything happened to him.

“We were sent over the top and Bill was shot and fell to the ground like a stone. It was chaos that day: guns going off, shells exploding, smoke everywhere. I ran back to him but he wasn’t moving. I didn’t have much time as I was dodging bullets myself, but I managed to get his watch out of his pocket.

“It was his pride and joy, and we all knew that it was a present from you. He kept it close to him all the time, only taking it out to wind it up.

“I’m afraid there are no last messages that I can give you from him. However, it was you that kept him going, Mrs Flower, and it was pretty obvious to us how much you meant to him.

“I don’t know what happened next. At roll call the next morning, he wasn’t there to answer his name, and it doesn’t seem as though he made it to the field hospital, either. I’m so very sorry. He was a good man and we all miss him.

“I hope having the watch will bring you some comfort. May God be with you during this difficult time.

“It’s signed ‘Gordon Whitbourne’,” she added, feeling her throat constrict and her voice wobble.

She looked at her mam, who had put her hand to her mouth and had eyes full of tears.

“I don’t know what to say, Molly. Come here.” Mam sat down next to her on the settee and pulled her close.

She gave way to tears then, and her mam cried with her.

She felt herself being rocked ever so gently and was soothed in the same way she had been as a child when something had gone wrong. Except now, it wasn’t something Mam could fix or put a plaster on.

“I think I want to be on my own, if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course, love, whatever you want.”

Molly stood up and headed up to her bedroom, taking the letter and the pocket watch with her.

She sat on the edge of her bed and held the pocket watch in her hand. She looked at it from every angle. Touching what he had touched made her feel closer to him.

The lid of the watch was considerably dented. She shuddered when she thought of what had caused the dents.

The back was fine. She ran a finger over the inscription. Keep me with you always. That is what she would do.

She would keep the watch and treasure the memories she and Bill had shared, if only for a comparatively fleeting moment in a whole lifetime.

She flicked the watch open, hardly believing the face would have survived. It had.

The hands had stopped, as if in shock, at a quarter past one. That explained everything.

Hardly daring to breathe, she wound up the watch with trembling fingers. She wasn’t sure it would work. Maybe it had died with him. There was no response. Her heart sank.

That would have been too much to hope for, she reasoned with herself, especially after all it had been through.

At least she had his most treasured possession.

She thought about where to put it. Maybe on the bedside locker, next to his photograph. At night, she would put it under her pillow.

While her sorrow remained profound, having the watch helped. On nights when her thoughts were especially bleak, she would hold it and think of Bill and slowly drift off to sleep.

One particular night she clasped it in both hands and spoke to it.

“Wherever you are, my darling, I hope you’ve found peace.” She kissed the watch and shut her eyes.

The next morning she had the queerest sensation. She turned over in bed, half expecting to see him lying next to her.

He wasn’t there, of course, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been with her.

She knew she’d been dreaming, but something flickered within her, like the smallest of candle flames, and it gradually grew stronger.

She sat up in bed and looked at the watch. She flicked it open again and wound it up.

After a moment’s hesitation, the hands began to move. Her heart leapt. “Mam!” she shouted. “What is it, love?” her mam cried, bursting into her room. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. It’s Bill’s watch. It’s started to work again.”

“Well, I’ll be blowed,” her mam said, looking at it and seeing the hands moving.

“What do you think it means?”

“Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. But it’s a miracle, to be sure.” Her mam smiled and nodded encouragingly.

“I think it’s a sign.” “Molly, you don’t think that Bill’s . . .” “Alive?”

“It’s hard to believe a watch has been resurrected, Molly, but Bill? You know what Gordon said in the letter. He couldn’t possibly have survived that battle. He vanished without a trace.”

“But he was never found.” “That’s probably because he . . .” Her mam left the sentence hanging in the air.

“But even you said that ‘missing’ could mean anything.”

“That was before Gordon’s letter.” Mam looked at her and her voice softened.

“If it does mean something, Molly, we’ll find out in the fullness of time.” She patted her knee. “Right, I’ll go and get on with breakfast now.”

When she’d gone, Molly turned her attention back to the watch.

“If he is alive,” she

She would keep the watch and treasure her memories

said out loud, “bring him back to me.”

****

Summer succeeded spring and autumn succeeded summer. Then came the Armistice.

To be free of war after four years was unimaginable.

Molly heard the church bells ringing and the happy cries of children in the streets, given the day off school to celebrate.

She had waited for this day so long, rehearsed it obsessively in her head, seen herself falling into Bill’s arms and living happily ever after.

A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away.

While she knew she wasn’t alone, it didn’t soften the blow.

She could only be glad that other women might have had their men spared, and that the young lads from the village who would have had to join up if war had carried on could live their lives the way they wanted.

She reached for Bill’s watch and held it next to her heart.

“If only you had made it through instead of the watch,” she whispered.

She had long ago given up hope that he was still alive.

****

Christmas was drawing close, but Molly didn’t feel like celebrating. She decided to make an effort for her mam, who was worried about her.

She had a sudden urge to go and sit in the church, where she could just be quiet and let her thoughts have free rein.

She hadn’t lost her faith.

God couldn’t possibly keep everyone safe in a time of war.

All he could offer was a haven for those who died and support for those left behind.

“I’m off out, Mam,” she called through to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Her mam appeared, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

“To church. I won’t be long.”

“Wrap up warm. It’s started to snow.”

“I will.”

Molly left the house, walking briskly in the direction of the church. It didn’t take much more than ten minutes to get there.

She walked up the path towards the door, gently pushing it and hearing the customary squeak as it opened.

She headed straight down the aisle towards the altar, then took a seat in the front pew.

It seemed like no time at all since she and Bill had made their vows only feet from where she was sitting.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, allowing herself to be at peace, remembering their wedding day. She had felt such joy that day, yet even then it was tinged with anxiety about what might happen.

Still, her inner peace remained unshaken, and she felt that perhaps the New Year might be good for her; a fresh start.

She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there when she heard the squeak of the church door opening. Perhaps it was the vicar or another soul in need.

She didn’t much feel like talking to anyone, which made a hasty exit necessary, so that only pleasantries need be exchanged.

She slid out of the pew and crossed herself again, before turning sharply on her heel.

What she saw made her heart miss a beat, and for a split second she thought she was hallucinating.

Bill was standing at the back of the church, wearing his uniform and holding on to one of the pews to steady himself.

“Hello, Moll,” he whispered, but the words seemed to resound around the church.

She gasped and put a hand up to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears and the image of him became blurred.

“Oh! Oh!” she said breathlessly.

“Is that all you can say?” He plodded slowly towards her.

Her heart beat faster the closer he got, until he was standing right in front of her.

She searched his face. He was so gaunt, so drawn.

She reached a hand out to his cheek, hardly believing she would actually touch flesh. But he was there, and warm.

He clasped her hand in his, moving it round to his lips where he gently kissed her fingertips.

Tears were streaming down her face now.

“Bill, darling. I can hardly believe it.”

She moved towards him, pressing her body to his.

They clung to each other like lost souls. To feel his arms around her was nothing short of a miracle. She finally pulled away. “Let’s sit down. You look exhausted. Are you all right?”

“All the better for seeing you.” He eased himself into the pew beside her.

“But you look so poorly. What have they done to you?”

“Nothing I can’t get over, Moll. I’m home now. That’s all that matters.”

“What happened to you, Bill? I thought you were dead.”

“I thought I’d died, too, in the attack. I remember a massive explosion and everything going black. But I was found and taken to one of the German hospitals and from there to a POW camp.

“I was out of it for a while. Then it’s just like something started up again. I could have sworn I heard your voice, that’s the funny thing.

“The sad thing is, though, the pocket watch went. I don’t know how that happened, as I still had all the letters on me.

“I suppose it was taken. I’m sorry, Moll. I really did my best to keep it with me always.”

He smiled but with sad eyes.

“I know,” she said, reaching out to touch his face again. “And you’ll still be able to do that.” He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?” She smiled.

“Come home and I’ll show you.” ■

Perhaps the New Year could be a fresh start