Over Here

'These papers are no good,' he said in English.

'You are in Spain now my friend.' He pulled some new documents from his pocket. 'You will need these. You are a German construction expert travelling to Bilbao to advise on the construction of a new harbour wall. Do you speak German?'

'Very little.'

'Good the Polizia don't speak any so they will treat our German friend with respect.'

His guide had been right. Stops by the police were frequent but using what little German he had to talk to them soon had them waving him on his way. His papers even got him into Bilbao harbour where he found the fishing boat that was to take him home.

***

Daphne stood in front of the mirror and swung her hips. She watched the skirt swing. She turned and looked back to check the seams of her stocking were straight. She smiled with satisfaction until her eye caught Clifford's photograph next to the bed. The smile disappeared from her face as the guilt hit her. What right did she have to be going out enjoying herself when her husband might be dying in a ditch somewhere in some godforsaken country? She sat on the bed with tears running down her cheeks and ran her fingers over the face in the photograph.

'Oh Clifford, where are you? I miss you so much.'

She was still sitting there wringing her hands when Karl knocked at the door. When she answered the door and Karl saw her face he jumped to the wrong conclusion.

'What's wrong, have you had news?'

Daphne shook her head as she let him into the house.

'I'm sorry, Peter, I can't go tonight, It's not right.'

'Whoa, what brought this on? I thought we had this all sorted out. There is nothing wrong with you having a little fun and you attending tonight is a part of the war effort. It helps the men realise how much the local people are doing to make them feel welcome. This is all about Clifford, am I right.'

She nodded.

'And if Clifford was still here in England don't you think he would want you to go out and enjoy yourself a little?'

'But he's not is here? He's somewhere over there and I have no idea what has happened to him.'

'Let me ask you something, will it make any difference to Clifford if you go to the dance tonight.'

'Don't tell me it makes no sense. I know it makes no sense, but I can't help the way I feel.'

Karl took a handkerchief from his pocket and dried her tears.

'I've met Clifford, remember? I think he's the kind of guy that wants his wife to be happy. He wouldn't want you moping around at home looking miserable. He would tell you that we have to live life the best we can. If we don't the enemy has already won. Now, why don't you go up and fix your war paint so we can go to the dance and show them how it's done.'

Daphne gave him a weak smile, nodded her head and left the room. When she came back down Karl thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Her eyes still looked sad and they were a little red. She gave him another quick smile.

'Okay, Peter, if we're going to do this thing let's get on with it.'

She gathered up her coat and went to the front door, waited for Karl and they walked together out to the jeep.

***

Karl escorted her to a table where several senior officers were already seated. The commanding officer got up to greet her and as she went around the table shaking hands, she felt like a visiting dignitary. The band was every bit as good as she'd been told. It took a little while before people started to dance. As soon as they did, Karl asked Daphne to take to the floor with him. It lifted her spirits to see many of the men from the dance classes out on the floor with both land girls and female staff from the base.

It took half an hour before one of the enlisted men from the dance classes plucked up the courage to ask her to dance. Corporal Morelli was the first. Karl started to get up as he approached but Daphne put her hand on his arm to stop him.

'Excuse me, Ma'am, would you dance with me, please.'

'Yes, Corporal, I'd like that very much,' she said getting out of her seat to stand beside him.

'I'd say this is a quickstep, wouldn't you?'

'If you say so, Ma'am, I'm sure it is.'

'That's not a problem is it?'

'Oh no, Ma'am, I've been workin real hard on my quickstep.'

He led her out to the dance floor and took her in his arms.

'To tell the truth, Ma'am I ain't what you'd call a perfect dancer. I got the basics but can't do nothing fancy.'

'Just relax, Corporal, I'm sure we'll do fine.'

They set off across the floor and Daphne was pleasantly surprised by Morelli's ability, occasionally he caught her toes but it could have been a lot worse. When the music stopped, he escorted her back to her seat and thanked her for the dance. He walked back to his friends with a swagger that hadn't been there before.

'You shouldn't feel obliged to dance with the likes of Morelli there are plenty of girls here for them to dance with.'

'He was a perfect gentleman and a promising dancer. If the other men have done as well as Corporal Morelli, we've done something to be proud of.'

'I keep telling you what a good job you've done, now do I get a dance?'

She went back out on the floor with Karl and as the evening progressed, more of the enlisted men asked her to dance. By the end of the evening she was exhausted, she was high on adrenalin and she was a little drunk. She was still buzzing when Karl drove her home. With his arm around her shoulders, he guided her to her front door. She fished her keys out of her bag and struggled to get the key in the lock. Karl reached around her and helped her open the door. For a while, they stood looking at each other.

'Have you had a good time?'

'I've had a wonderful evening thank you. I decided that for just one night I'm going to pretend that this beastly war doesn't exist. Tonight I'm just Daphne, an everyday woman in an everyday world.'

'You could never be an everyday woman.' He leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. She threw her arms around his neck, stood on tiptoe, and gave him the most passionate kiss he could remember. She pushed the door open and they stumbled into the hall kissing all the way. She threw off her coat and moved towards the stairs. Karl followed and chased her up the stairs to the bedroom. He held her close, pulling her body tight against his.

'Unzip me,' she whispered.

Karl pushed the zipper down and Daphne shrugged the dress off her shoulders. She eased the straps of her slip off her shoulders and that fell to the floor forming a pool around her feet. She stepped out of her clothes and put one foot on the bed as she rolled down her stockings. For a moment, Karl stood motionless with his mouth fell open as he marvelled at the sight being unveiled before him. The full moon shone through the window making lights unnecessary. Her skin took on a silvery sheen as she went on to unveil more of it. He hurriedly started to undress. In no time, they stood naked facing each other. The site took Karl's breath away with her body exposed to him she looked even more beautiful than she had before. He took her in his arms and kissed her.

'Make me feel like a woman.' she said as he broke the kiss.

He took her up in his arms, lay her down on the bed, and started kissing first her neck then down to her breasts. With each new touch, she sighed and squirmed. When he reached her hips, she put her hand on his head.

'Make love to me,' she said putting her hand on his chin and pulling it up towards her head.

She parted her legs as Karl climbed on top of her. He was ecstatic as he entered her. Nothing had ever felt like this before. In no time he climaxed and pumped his semen into her. He was disappointed that he had come so quickly. She stroked his hair and held his head to her breast.

'Don't worry, it will be better next time. Just hold me.'

He put an arm around her waist and another under her neck. 'If heaven is like this,' he thought, 'then bring it on.'

***

The platform was empty as Clifford stepped from the milk train at Lincoln station. He wore a new but ill-fitting uniform provided for him by his interrogators. He'd expected the debriefing but it hadn't stopped there. He'd been taken to London where details of his journey across Europe and The Channel was examined in great detail. It came as a surprise to find that his story was being questioned at the highest level. It wasn't until he reflected on things that he realised they were concerned he may have been turned and sent back with misinformation. He must have given all the right answers because they gave him two weeks leave and sent him home.

His problem now was that at two in the morning there was no transport. Granby Hall was fifteen miles away. To a man who had walked and cycled across France and Belgium, it should have been a small challenge, but he had been up since six the previous morning and it was beginning to take its toll. He'd walked for two miles when he heard an engine in the distance. He looked around saw a pair of masked headlights coming towards him. As they got closer, he could see in the moonlight the outline of a Morris Eight staff car coming towards him. He put out his thumb, the car stopped alongside him, and someone wound down the rear passenger window.

'It must be getting a bit cold out there, where are you headed.'

'Granby Hall, but anywhere along this road would help.'

'The very same place as us, if you know the road well you'd better climb in next to the driver. He can't see a damned thing with those bloody masks on the headlights.'

Clifford did as he was told and found himself in the company of a corporal and Brigadier of the Royal Lincolnshire Regiment. He tried to concentrate on the road but in the warmth of the car, his tiredness got the better of him. A gentle shake woke him and he found himself in the courtyard of his ancestral home. He thanked his host and set down the drive for the gatehouse. As he'd expected, he found the house in darkness and the door locked. By the light of the moon, he found the flowerpot under which they kept a spare key and let himself in.

The house was eerily quiet with only the creaks and groans you get in an old house. He stepped into the hall and he could hear the faint murmur of light snoring from upstairs. He smiled thinking of Daphne lying on her back in bed. By now, she should have been told that he was back, but wouldn't be expecting him at this time of day. He crept up the stairs intending to wake her before sliding into bed. When he opened the door, the sight that confronted him was like a punch in the gut. On the floor lay her dress and slip. Folded on the chair was an American officers uniform and there on the bed was his beautiful Daphne with another man lying next to her with his hand on her breast. They must have been in a hurry, as they hadn't even closed the blackout curtains. A red mist came down when the man turned and Clifford recognised him. He looked around the room and there on top of his clothes was the American's Remington Automatic. He picked it up, flipped the safety catch off pointed it at the American and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. For a moment he was confused, then he realized that unlike his Webley revolver he would have to cock the gun to load the first round. He brought the gun back down and pushed the slide back with his left hand. That was when he heard the scream and his hand slipped off the slide.

***

She didn't know what it was but something woke her and as she opened her eyes, Daphne saw the silvery ghost of her dead husband standing over the bed. He looked so real but standing in front of the window, he had an ethereal silver glow about him. She gasped then let out an ear-piercing scream. A shot rang out and the ghost fell to the floor with a thump. Karl jumped back across the bed.

'What the hell was that?' He yelled.

Daphne was already clambering across the bed toward the figure on the floor. A dark stain was spreading across his trousers.

'It's Clifford. He's alive and he's here. Oh My God, he saw us, what are we going to do?'

Karl was still half asleep trying to get to grips with what was happening. Daphne looked down at Clifford. The stain was getting bigger and it was now spreading across the floor.

'He's hurt, give me the sheet.'

'What the hell? It can't be Clifford. Whoever it is he is in deep shit.'

'You think I don't know my own husband, now for God's sake give me the sheet.'

Karl got up, pulled the sheet from the bed, and handed it to her. He started getting dressed as Daphne pressed the sheet onto the wound.

'What do you want me to do?'

'Go downstairs and call for an ambulance.'

He pulled on his trousers and grabbed his jacket.

'Then what?'

'Get out of here.'

'I can't leave you here on your own.'

'I'll be okay, just go.'

'Where is my gun?'

'I'll get it to you, now get out of here,' she shouted.

Karl gathered up the rest of his clothes and ran from the room.

'Don't forget the ambulance,' she yelled after him.

Clifford's eyelids started to flicker.

'Don't leave me, Darling. He means nothing to me. I thought you were dead. The ambulance is coming, try to stay awake. I couldn't bear to lose you a second time. Please stay with me.'

Outside she heard vehicles before two women in uniform ran into the room with a stretcher. They tried to push Daphne aside but she was having none of it. She made them rip the sheet into strips and bind a pad of it tightly to the wound. While they lifted Clifford onto the stretcher, she found a robe and some knickers to wear to the hospital.

***

Major Brent was a tall man in his early forties. He smiled as he opened the door to Karl. Karl already knew that smile was not necessarily an indication of his mood, he used it as a way to put men at ease so they were more open and more likely to speak before thinking about it.

'You wanted to see me, Sir?'

'I certainly do, Pete. Come in take a seat.'

Karl sat down across the desk from the Major's chair. Brent closed the door walked back to the desk and took his seat. He put his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers before leaning back in his chair.

'How are things, Pete?'

'As good as they could be in the circumstances, Sir.'

'Good I certainly can't complain about the job you've done since you've been here, but what about you, no homesickness, no hankerings to go home?'

'No more than any other man, Sir. I'd like to see Peg, of course, I would, but there is a war on and I've got a job to do.'

'So things are still okay back home, no problems there, no reasons why you wouldn't want to go home?'

'As far as I know, everything is fine. What's this all about, Sir? If you've got a problem with me I'd rather you just came out and said so.'

Major Brent reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a Remington M1911 pistol and placed it on the desk.

'Would this be your sidearm Lieutenant?'

'Yes, Sir, it probably is. I can explain.'

'I think you'd better. A civilian handed this gun into the guardhouse and I'd like to know how they got hold of it. Does it have anything to do with an RAF officer who was involved in a shooting incident last night?'

Karl bowed his head and massaged his temples with his thumb and third finger. When he lifted his head, he relayed the story of the previous night. Brent's eyes never moved from Karl's face. When Karl finished Brent leaned back and sighed.

'That's pretty close to the version I got from the British detective who wanted to talk to you. I seem to remember you being the one trying to stop the men fraternising with married women yet here you are doing the same thing with the lady of the manor.'

'We both thought her husband was dead, Sir.'

'But he wasn't was he and now thanks to you I've spent half the damned day talking to the British Police, the British War Department and our own top brass.'

'Yes, Sir, sorry, Sir,'

'Sorry doesn't cut it, Lieutenant. You've embarrassed me, you've embarrassed the base and you've embarrassed Uncle Sam. You can thank your lucky stars that the British don't want to take it further. You've failed to take adequate care of your weapon, allowed it to fall into civilian hands, that alone warrants putting you on a charge. If it weren't for the damage it might do to your father's reputation, I would have your ass kicked from here to Washington. As it is, I've got to get you out of here. There's a place for you at Randolph, perhaps you can teach recruits not to follow your example. There is a transport plane leaving tonight, make sure you're on it.'

'I can't do that, Sir. If he dies Daphne will have no one.'

'She's not your concern, right now you should be more concerned about what you are going to tell your wife. Now get out of here.'

***

Peggy started to clear away the dishes and Oliver thanked her for a wonderful meal and offered to help with the dishes.

'There is no need for that, Annie and I can stack the dishwasher. You stay and talk to Karl.'

Karl got up from the table.

'Good idea, let's go into the study.'

Oliver followed him into the study. As soon as they were both in the room, Karl slammed the door shut.

'Okay young man, how about we start with the real reason you're here. If you're looking for money, forget it. What happened between me and your mother was all a very long time ago. Nobody cares anymore.'

Oliver laughed out loud.

'Money? You think I want money? Oh, that's a good one. I don't want or need your money. I came here to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage. I know that's a bit old fashioned but my family sets a lot of store in tradition.'

'You wanna marry my Annie?'

'I did, but now I'm not sure that's a good idea.'

'What, you are going to dump her just because I got the wrong idea?'

'No, Sir, it has nothing to do with you thinking I was after your money. From what you just said, I take it you are the Lieutenant Peter Brockman my father told me about...Tell me why the name change, guilt perhaps?'

'I've got nothing to feel guilty about. My name is Karl but that's a family name the firstborn boy is always called Karl. My father is Karl, everyone but Peg calls me that Pete.'

'I see. So you are the man who took advantage of a grieving young woman who thought she'd just lost her husband. Then when the shit hit the fan you buggered off home leaving her to pick up the pieces.'

'I was ordered to leave. I had no choice.'

'You were "only obeying orders." Oliver made air quotes with his fingers as he reeled off the Nuremberg defence. 'There is always an alternative, of course, you had a choice. You chose to come home leaving a man who could no longer sire children and a woman so wracked with guilt that she never really forgave herself.'

'Yeah, okay, maybe I could have done more, but I didn't get off scot-free. I was transferred to a training base, the sort of place they send you when your career is winding down. My father was a god damned General he expected me to follow in his footsteps and get a chest full of medals. I left the service as a Lieutenant without even a purple heart. The old man has barely spoken three words to me in the last thirty years.'

'My heart bleeds for you, but that has nothing to do with my decision.'

'Then what is it? Do you hate me that much that you would wreck my daughter's chance of happiness?'

'Don't kid yourself, my feeling for you have nothing to do with it. You flew out of Britain in September 1943, I was born in June 1944, as you Americans say, you do the math. If you'd ever tried to contact my mother after the event you might have saved us both from a lot of embarrassment.'

Oliver turned, opened the door and walked off in the direction of the kitchen. Karl was dumbfounded. He sat in his chair running it through his mind. He had a son. For thirty-five years he'd had a son and now that son didn't want to know him.