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The Day Before Yesterday: 64 - The Agony Of Parting

...The blackberries peeping over the edge of the lane were already ripening in the later summer sunshine and the swaying trees seemed to want to embrace us as we held each other close, as if there was no tomorrow, and after hugging our little son the same way, my husband walked quickly down the lane, just pausing long enough to wave again as he turned the next bend....

There were too many goodbyes during World War Two, as Gladys Schofield reveals.

To read earlier chapters of Gladys's story please click on http://www.openwriting.com/archives/the_day_before_yesterday/

Our furniture had to come the long way to our home as the lorry could not manoeuvre the narrow paths we had taken.

Cliff made the chooks as safe as he possibly could. He was due back to his camp the next day. They settled down quite contentedly and didn't seem to mind the change. It was good to have a man to lift the heavy furniture into place, as we women had to do everything while they were away. It's surprising what you can achieve when you have to.

We also got the art of making nourishing meals from the cheaper cuts of meat. We could get corn beef and with vegetables this made a good stew. Rabbits were available too. People would barter with neighbours for things in short supply and news travelled fast when a shipment came in of bananas. Everyone would set off with their baskets.

It's funny when people are hurting inside. It seems to bring out the best in them. We seemed to acquire a certain grit to enable us to withstand all these uncertainties and help each other when the need came, after all, we were the 'home front'. We had to stick together, or the fighting would be all in vain.

The time had come too soon again. We had to part and we strolled together, our son trotting in front of us, to a bend in the lane where the trees hid us from inquisitive eyes.

The blackberries peeping over the edge of the lane were already ripening in the later summer sunshine and the swaying trees seemed to want to embrace us as we held each other close, as if there was no tomorrow, and after hugging our little son the same way, my husband walked quickly down the lane, just pausing long enough to wave again as he turned the next bend.

We returned to our silent house. It was always the same. Even Alan seemed to be used to these comings and goings now. I buried myself unpacking the smaller items for a moment just lost in my own thoughts.

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