Elisabeth Jones - Gold Beach

‘Certainly,’ I replied politely.

‘Then shut up and listen. All his men were easily identified. Unlike the rest of the troops they wore green berets instead of helmets. They were such tough guys, weren't they?’

‘Of course, and we still are,’ I said smiling.

‘I’m sure. But you don't know the best part. Just as they were approaching the shore on their landing crafts, they would get up and shout at the Germans: “Over here, I'm here! Can't you see me? Who taught you to shoot? Your mother?” When bombs fell around them they got up and laughed at their poor aim, and so they went on all the while until they got to the beach. Anyway, I would have liked to see that, honestly. When they reached the shore they found that the first wave of soldiers were engaged in gunfire with the Germans. His commandos, to the sound of pipes, pressed on through infantry lines until they defeated the German machine guns. The beach was conquered and they had clear passage, now they had only six miles ahead to cover in scarcely three and a half hours. If they wanted to be on time they couldn't afford to stumble upon the Germans, so they cleverly chose an alternative route. The commandos moved forward through bushes, crossed wire fences and leapt over antitank ditches. And here comes the best part. When they bumped into a minefield, they chose to go on across it rather than losing time in a long detour.

‘I can't believe it,’ I said open-mouthed. ‘And they did?’

‘Of course.’

‘And didn't they step on any mines?’

‘If they did it's not in the books, so let's think that they didn't. About noon, Lord Lovat and his men were getting close to the rendezvous. The 6 thAirborne Division had been fighting for over twelve hours. The strength and ammunition of those men were coming to an end. But then they began to hear the distant sound of the pipes. Around one in the afternoon they saw them coming as they were playing Blue Bonnets Over The Border . That music made the soldiers forget where they were. They started to jump, shout, hold each other and run to their saviours in front of the astounded eyes of the Germans, who couldn't understand what was going on. Before they jointly went back to battle, Lord Lovat addressed the colonel in command and taking a look at his watch, he said calmly: “I apologise for being some minutes late.”’

Isobel started to clap with a smile of satisfaction and I joined her with a burst of laughter. What a man Lord Lovat must’ve been, I thought. The story delighted me and made me forget my other reality just for a while.

‘Why, I had no idea about this story but you're right, we Scots are something else,’ I said proudly. ‘Monday after school, if you don't mind I'll walk you home so you can show me those books and your father's photographs. I'd like to meet him.’

Isobel didn't say anything, she simply looked at me with a smile and a sigh that didn't go unnoticed. It was as if finally she got what she had been expecting for some time. That day our friendship began.

An hour had passed when my mother came back home, but for me it seemed like a few minutes. Isobel's company bewitched me in such a way that I forgot the world still existed outside the walls of my house. When we heard the front door we stood up from the sofa as if we’d been caught doing anything inappropriate. We went to the hall to meet my mother and offer our help, but she, after thanking us, refused it completely. Looking at her, I knew she was seeking solitude. Isobel stood in the hall in front of the candle that was burning out slowly next to my father's photograph and looked at me in surprise. Ignoring my mother's request, I went with her to the kitchen to help her to store the groceries. Isobel followed us and sat by the table.

‘Mrs McCoolant, did your father die in the Normandy landings?’ she asked curiously.

My mother couldn't turn to look at her. She kept putting the shopping away as if she hadn’t heard her. After the few seconds it took me to realise she wouldn’t be able to answer, I came to her aid.

‘No. My grandfather died at Dunkirk. If you’re asking because of the candle, it's a habit of my mother's. Every now and then she lights a candle in memory of my father.’

My mother turned very slowly to look at me out of the corner of her eye. She was crying but her smile let me know she was grateful. I hurried to finish putting the shopping away. I had to take Isobel out of there so my mother would have the solitude she needed on that day.

That 6 thof June marked a turning point in my life. Not only because of all the things I discovered in my mother’s diary, but also because of what began between Isobel and me.

Although Geena came home well into the night, we all wanted to wait up for her. Her features told of the tiredness of her long working day, but that didn’t stop her running up to her daughter and hugging her very carefully so as not to hurt her.

My mother made tea for us all and biscuits that we savoured in the living room, while Isobel explained to her mother what a good time she had had with me and Betty. Geena smiled to see her daughter happy and not thinking, so far, about the scars she would be left with after that fateful accident.

No more than half an hour had passed when we decided to go to sleep. The day had been too long for all of us. As we went upstairs to the bedrooms my heart started its own particular race, seeing that the time to return to the attic was coming. After saying goodnight on the landing, each of us headed for our own bedroom. Mother and daughter walked arm in arm to one of the guest rooms but before disappearing behind the door, Isobel turned her head towards me to give me a smile that made me blush. My mother smiled, seeing the colour of my cheeks. She came close to me, hugged me and kissed me with her usual tenderness, but this time she stared at me as if she wanted to say something. I know that she tried to talk but in the end she didn’t. I tried to smile but I think that I was unable to hide the remorse burning inside me. She stroked my hair and finally went to her bedroom. I didn’t move until I saw her disappear behind the door.

The hall had sunk into the darkness of the night. I looked upstairs. I wanted to go up to the attic as soon as possible but I had to be cautious. I had to wait a prudent amount of time to make sure that they were all asleep. I went into my bedroom and pushed the door without closing it completely to avoid any noise. I put on my pyjamas, sat on the bed and waited patiently while I looked through the window at the starry sky. Quarter of an hour later my eyes weighed a ton. I got up from bed because I knew that if I lay down I would end up falling asleep. I rubbed my face with my hands energetically as I walked to the window and once there I leant my cheek against the glass so the cold could keep me awake. My eyes were still heavy but my anxiety urged me to retake the road I had embarked on that very morning. I took a torch out of my wardrobe with extreme care. My keyring was already in my pyjama pocket. I grabbed the small blanket that was covering the foot of the bed, wrapped myself with it and started to walk. After closing the door of my bedroom as stealthily as I could, I looked down the hall. Everything was calm. I didn’t want to switch on the torch so I waited for my eyes to get used to the darkness. Finally I managed to set off without breaking the light nor the silence of the night. My sole concern was the creaking of the attic floor. I switched on the torch on the last flight of stairs. When I arrived at the top, I was surprised to find the door wide open but the tension of the moment prevented me from recalling whether I had closed it or not that morning. I stood at the door petrified as if I had seen Medusa’s face. I had never gone up there at night before. Outside, the sound of the trees swaying in time to an agitated wind made me shiver with cold but actually, although I didn’t want to admit it then, what I felt wasn’t just cold. The only window was too small to let in enough light to illuminate the whole room. You could see the centre of the room clearly but all the rest was sunk in the darkness. I didn’t even dare shine my torch to have a look around, because I had the strange feeling of being watched. Although I knew what there was in every corner of that room perfectly, now it seemed like the perfect hiding place for any intruder. I had to repeat to myself that I was alone several times to gather the courage to come in. As I was going to step in I thought that I’d better come back in the early morning. I didn’t think twice. I turned, determined to go back to my room but as I was going downstairs I felt ashamed of my cowardice. I went upstairs again and without looking around, I headed for the trunk with my eyes fixed on the floor. Instead of walking, I slid my feet so the wood wouldn’t creak. When my torch lit the trunk it almost took my breath away. It was open. I hadn’t the slightest doubt that I had closed it that morning to leave it just as I’d found it. My heart started to beat as if it had lost control of itself. I had expected to find it locked, that’s why I had brought my keys. I’d have sworn I had heard my mother going up to the attic in the afternoon. I thought she did it to lock it. Why was it open now? Was she giving me permission to read her diary? I didn’t know what to do. My panting was breaking the silence of the night. I didn’t dare look right or left and certainly not behind me. Was my mother hidden somewhere? For a moment I pondered the idea of asking aloud Mum, are you there? but finally I didn’t. I closed my eyes and told myself go ahead. I curled up under my blanket as if I could disappear inside. I reached out shivering to the trunk and took out the first notebook. I sat on the floor cross-legged and, unable to control the trembling that was shaking my whole body, picked up reading where I had left off that very morning.