Dream on

Story about a womans loss in the Falklans War.

  “Keep the gangway clear please!” The abruptness of the command awoke Emily from her daydream.

“Sorry, I was miles away.”

 “That’s alright madam, but we’re transferring stores, it gets quite dangerous around these areas, we have to keep them clear you understand.”

 The officer was tall and handsome like David, he smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“I’m sorry; I’ll move out your way, I was looking for the café.” Emily squeezed  past the trolley.

 “Thank you madam, I think you’ll find they’re serving breakfast on the deck below, if you’re interested,”

 “Yes, thank you, I think I need a coffee,” The smartly dressed officer gave a little nod.

“It’s down the stairs, and to your left,” he said, smiling again.

Emily made her way carefully down the stairs, she had never been one to complain, but the arthritis had slowed her down over the last three years. She got to the bottom, “Did he say left?” Emily quietly spoke to herself for reassurance.

 David had always been there for her, leading the way, she was hopeless at directions. “Don’t get that map out again, it’s a bloody good job I know the way,” he would say. She thought about it, and turned left; she pushed

 open the swing doors. A couple were sitting quietly in a corner, reading their morning paper. There was a brass clock above the counter, and she glanced up, it was half past seven.

She could never sleep in any more, it was a habit David had got her into when he was home on leave.

 “I can’t lay here Emm, things to do.”

 “Can’t you relax for five minutes David?”

 “Sorry Emm, I’ve gotta get up, sorry love.” How many times had he said that, she had lost count?

 

  “A coffee please,”

 “Will there be anything else?” the steward enquired. He looked foreign Emily thought.  He was short, not like her David, he would get the tins, or serving dishes out for her, from the back of the cupboards, the ones she couldn’t quite reach. This young man would need a step ladder.

 “Is there anything else?”  His voice was louder, he lifted an eyebrow, and Emily noticed it.

“No, I’m sorry, how much?” she said.

 “Sixty pence please,” his eyebrow levelled out again.

 “Thanks,” Emily picked up the cup, and wandered over to the window seat

 Today was a special day, and she was alone with her thoughts.

                                          

She gazed out of the window, and saw herself reflected in the glass, like a ghost, transparent, grey, and alone.

 Her eyes fixed on the rough seas beyond the safety of the ship.

She had visited twelve countries in forty days. There were another ten countries, and still a month at sea to go. She was enjoying the cruise, or was she kidding herself? Emily kept thinking of David, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. He was around her, and she felt his presence, but she had told no one.

 She looked again at the sea, it looked cold and forbidding, and she thought of the war.

                All the time David was at sea, she knew he was under threat of attack, of a possible miserable death, and she couldn’t be with him, she couldn’t support him. He must have been alone with his thoughts, just like her.

 A voice suddenly broke up the pictures in her head.

“Would you like another cup,” The steward leant over, and noticed the tear rolling gently down Emily’s face.

 “Oh, I’m sorry madam,” Emily looked up and smiled.

  “No, its fine, yes thank you, I will have another.”

 She wiped the tear quickly away with a fingertip, she tried not to not to think of the scene in her head, but it flashed back, unforgiving.

                                      

Today was the third of May, twenty five years to the day. It was on the fourth the ‘Sheffield’ was hit amid- ships. She remembered seeing it broadcast on the news.

A super E`tendard fighter had loosed off an Exocet, and David was in that maelstrom, in the galley, somewhere, in all that horror, his beautiful body, taken from her.

The Sheffield lay slain for six days a burning hulk, dragged along by the ‘Yarmouth.’ She had done her best to keep the  Sheffield afloat, but the souls on board had had enough, they wanted an end to it, they wanted dignity. She was cut free, and H.M.S. Sheffield took them to the bottom with her. It was May the tenth, a day Emily could never forget.

 “Excuse me, your coffee madam,” The steward placed a little paper mat on the shiny table and laid the cup gently on it. Emily dug a pound out from her purse, and handed him the money.

 “Thank you, keep the change,” she said. He gave a smile, a little nod, and walked back behind his counter.

 David had liked fresh coffee, Emily took a sip, it was strong just how he liked it, but the sugar wasn’t there, she found the pot and shovelled two spoonfuls in, not thinking.

 David always had two, he would put it in hers by mistake sometimes, but she got used to it.

                            

She gazed back out the window again.

  Argentina was over there, somewhere, she could just make out a coastline.

The war seemed closer to her now, and she thought of the  nineteen shipmates that had gone down with him, twenty- four others were badly burned, some had managed to scramble aboard ‘Hermes’ she knew the rest had got off, somehow, eventually.

 The world didn’t think about it anymore, until today.

   The ‘Artemis’ blew a long and mournful note, as it crossed the grave, the air vibrating with the shock wave, Emily’s body trembled, passengers had gathered along the railings further up the ship. A few threw flowers; others just looked across at the blue green depths, deep in thought. An officer read out some words, and there was a minute’s silence. Emily put her cup down, and walked out slowly across the soft crimson carpet.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks now, but she didn’t care, she let them flow, she felt a tightness in her throat that hurt. She leant on the rail, and threw the rose in. “God bless you David, I love you,” her words were quickly taken by the strong and biting Atlantic wind. Nobody had heard, and she thought nobody cared.

She never got to read the telegram from the ministry, she was too ill.

 

 An arm moved gently around her shoulder,

“You still think of him don’t you,”

“Yes of course, how could I not.” Emily replied. The words were automatic.

 Emily had been lost in her thoughts, she looked up. The woman was in her early fifties her short blond hair blowing around in the turbulent South Atlantic air.

Tears were streaming down her sad face, she looked out across the ocean.

 “I lost Terry on the ‘Sheffield,’ he was in the control room, behind the galley. They called her the ‘Shiny Sheff’ you know,  it came right through, it didn’t explode….it left a ten foot gash, and then fire and smoke, they didn’t stand a bloody chance...”

 She paused.

 “They were sacrificed, just decoys, so they wouldn’t hit the carriers, the b******s!  Sorry, I get so angry when I think about it.

I’m Lesley by the way.” She put a hand out. Emily touched it,

 “Lesley.” Emily repeated the word, as if in a dream.

Emily looked up, “I’m sorry, my partner, his name was David, we had a row the day he left for Portsmouth, I was eight months...”

Emily paused to take a breath.

  “He used to let me do the cooking when he was at home, silly that really, he never complained about my burnt offerings, but he could be such a sod about little things, knives facing the wrong way, that kind of thing.”

 Emily looked across at the officer of the watch.

 “That’s the navy life for you.”

 There was a noise to the left of her, and Emily turned to face it.

“John”.

 “Where the hell have you been, sneaking off like that, why didn’t you tell me you were coming up on deck?” he said. He looked straight into her eyes, Emily looked back.

 “I wanted to be on my own, cant you see that,” Emily was shaken by his anger.

 “This all happened twenty-five years ago for Christ’s sake!” John said, he shook his head

 “Cant you ever forget about it.” He looked sad and looked down at the deck. Emily had put up with his mood swings over the years, nothing would change, she knew that, he had softened, but there was still the odd outburst of anger and emotion.

Emily looked at her husband.

 “I needed some time alone,” she said.

 “I’m sorry Lesley, this is my husband John.” Lesley offered a hand, and John took it.He looked up, embarrassed from his outburst.

“I’m sorry about that, it’s just that I get worried about her sometimes, she tends to get lost easily.” Emily suddenly looked across to the lounge doors.

“David.”

 The young man walked up confidently behind Emily, and draped an arm round her neck, “I was worried too mum,” he said. Emily fussed around in her coat pocket, John offered her a tissue.

“No, I’ve got something for David,” she said.

 Emily handed David a box, it was red, with a flip top. “What is it? “ David opened it, and turned away, he looked down, and out across to the place to where his father lay. He thought of his father’s courage, and the fun times they should have had together, he looked at the medal, and the tears came.

 Emily laid her hand on his shoulder. “He died trying to save this place from God knows what, its right you should have it.

I was going to give it to you tonight after dinner, but now seems the right time.Emily looked across at Port Stanley, had the sacrifice been worth it?

She looked across at John, and then finally at David.