The Uncertain Years by Beryl Matthews Page A

eyes, I suppose.’
    ‘It was nothing like that,’ Becky protested. ‘I like him, and we got on well together. He was kind to me and I’m worried about him. Can you help?’
    ‘I’ll see what I can find out,’ Alice said, giving Becky’s arm a comforting pat. ‘My major might know him. If not I’m sure he’ll make enquiries – if I ask him nicely enough, of course.’
    ‘He won’t be able to resist you if you turn on the charm,’ Becky laughed. ‘But seriously, I’d be ever so grateful if you could find out if he’s safe. I’ve written twice since Dunkirk, and haven’t received a reply yet.’
    ‘Leave it with me.’ Alice glanced at her watch. ‘Oops, I must dash. I’ll meet you at seven in the NAAFI.’
    ‘Thanks.’ Becky watched her friend march away on her errand. Now all she could do was wait.
     
    It was nearly eight by the time Alice joined Becky. ‘Sorry I’m late; we’ve been so busy. Major Brent seemed to know who I was asking about, but he wants to see you in our office, now.’
    ‘What? Am I in trouble for asking about David?’
    ‘Of course not, but he wants to talk to you before giving out any information.’
    Becky’s insides clenched in dismay. ‘Is the news bad, then?’
    ‘I don’t know, Becky. This is an officer we’re talkingabout, and Major Brent won’t give out personal details to someone in the ranks. Not even to me, and I’m his confidential secretary.’
    ‘Of course, I should have thought about that.’ Becky stood up and made sure her uniform was in order.
    She followed Alice, and waited impatiently while she rapped on a door and disappeared inside.
    Alice soon reappeared. ‘Come in now.’
    She stood to attention in front of the officer’s desk, and had never felt so frightened in her life about the news she was about to be given.
    He wasted no time. ‘Tell me how you know Colonel Hammond.’
    Her explanation was brief, and she realised that it was doubtful if the officer would tell her anything. After all, it was clear she hardly knew him when it was put into words, but she didn’t feel like that. It was as if she’d known David all her life.
    ‘We’ve been writing regularly, sir,’ she hastily explained. ‘And I haven’t heard from him for a while. I’m worried, sir. Could you tell me if he’s all right? Please, sir. That’s all I need to know.’
    Major Brent sat back. ‘I’m afraid he’s missing. That’s all the information we have at this time.’
    It took a few moments to compose herself, and then she said, ‘I’d like to write to his family, sir. Could I have his home address?’
    ‘No, I can’t give out that information.’ Major Brent stood up, bringing the interview to an end. ‘I’ll see you are informed if we receive any further news.’
    ‘Thank you, sir.’
    The word ‘missing’ kept ringing through her mind for the rest of the night, making sleep impossible. She knew many families were worrying themselves sick over the same word since Dunkirk. It could mean that they were alive – perhaps taken prisoner – or they had been killed. While there was some hope, the uncertainty would be crippling.
    Unable to sleep, she got up and wrote a long letter to her brother, pouring out her fears for David, and deep sorrow that she was unable to write to his family. She longed to offer some comfort, however slight. She had always been able to talk to her brother, and after putting the letter to him in the post, she returned to the billet. All the other girls were out, either on duty, or enjoying themselves at a dance somewhere, but Becky was too sad at heart to be good company.
    There was no one to see her, so she shed a few tears, and allowed herself to grieve for the man she had become so very fond of, praying that somehow, somewhere, he was safe.
     
    It was five days before her brother’s reply reached her. Opening it eagerly, she settled on her bunk to read it before going on duty. As usual it was pages long, and she smiled when