Maid Elizabeth

June 1944

Jack adjusted his balance to the ship's rolling and peered into the gloom beyond the bows. The pre-dawn blackness seemed particularly intense and he had to strain to see the telltale blue flicker of the stern light of the next ship in line ahead. He could sense, but could not see, the great convoy of vessels heading for the coast of France. As they had formed up the previous evening he had gaped in amazement at the sheer size of the assembled armada. The Great grey battleships, his father's old ship, Warspite among them: The Landing ships packed with troops. They had all felt a sense of, well, history as they had gaped from the decks of little Speedwell.

Now, as the sky started to lighten, he could hear the steady pinging of the Asdic, sweeping for submarines and the occasional stamping of feet on the bridge above the wheelhouse. The voice-pipe in front of Jack whistled and a tinny voice gave him a new course to steer. He repeated the order and spun the wheel, feeling the ship's motion increase as she swung broadside on to the swell. He didn't hear the explosion. He just saw the brilliant flash that seemed to burn right into his skull. The mine must have been disturbed by the ship ahead. The corvette nudged one of those deadly horns with its thin steel flank, the point of impact just below the bridge. It broke her back, the thrust of her propeller forcing her steadily under waves.

It was still dark when Beth was awoken by the sensation of a kiss on her forehead. She murmured sleepily. "Hello, darling, " and sighed contentedly as kisses trailed down her neck to her breast. He smelt warm and salty, somehow. His mouth was moving lower and she gasped as his tongue entered her. She lay back with her eyes closed and luxuriated in the delicious sensations that flooded her. She might even have cried out as he entered her and she felt the power of his body moving above her. When it came, her orgasm was so intense that she blacked out momentarily, all her senses consumed by the shuddering ecstasy. When she woke again, it was light. And she was alone.

"What time did Jack leave?" she asked her mother at breakfast.
"Jack? I think you must have been dreaming, darling. Jack's at sea."

She shrugged and then her attention was caught by the voice of the BBC Announcer.

"At dawn this morning, allied forces landed on the coast of Normandy supported by airborne landings at strategic points inland..." It sounded as if the landings were a success and Beth felt her heart leap at the thought that this might really mean the war would soon be over. She was hugging this thought to herself when the voice cut through her reverie. "The admiralty regrets to announce the loss of His Majesty's Ships Archon, Buccleuch and Speedwell."
She heard no more but stood, ashen-faced, her hands clasping her belly where she could feel the first stirrings of new life within her womb.

August 1946

Beth Reynolds stood in the warm sunlight and looked at the canvas-covered hull in the corner of the boatyard. "I reckon she's rightly yours, Beth" said her father-in-law and gave her a shoulder a squeeze. She leaned on the pushchair in front of her where the breeze ruffled her son's dark curls. She looked up at the elderly man beside her, seeing in the lines etched on his face a reflection of her own sufferings.

"I'll need some help to put her right and Little Jack, here, isn't going to be up to it for a year or two!"
"Don't you worry 'bout that, none, girl. I reckon between us we can see 'Maid' right."
"And Little Jack will need to learn to sail her."
"Ah, that he will, my girl, that he will."

They exchanged slow smiles and each felt, for the first time, the long shadow of sorrow beginning to lift. Above them a sea bird soared and circled, its harsh cries sounding unusually triumphant.