Free Out of the Blue by Val Rutt Page A

I’ll see to her.’ The soldier who held the bag made to follow the woman across the grass. A voice from within the lorry called out, ‘Yeah,
you’ll see to her all right!’
    The words were followed by laughter. An ice-cold feeling of dread landed heavily in Kitty’s stomach.
    ‘No, wait!’ she said, stepping forward. She took hold of the handbag. ‘It’s fine, I’ll go with her.’
    The soldier held on to the bag for a moment but, as Sammy stepped up behind Kitty, he let out a sigh and pushed the bag towards her.
    ‘We’ll walk her home,’ Sammy said. ‘It’s on our way, right?’
    ‘Yes,’ Kitty said. ‘It’s fine.’
    The driver revved the engine again then crunched it into gear. With a last look after the woman, the soldier swore under his breath and ran for the lorry. He managed to clamber in as it pulled
away. Kitty and Sammy watched him go then turned back just in time to see the woman sink to her knees.

 
August 2006
    Kitty sits shaking her head. She wonders what became of that woman. A girl really, she thinks, can’t have been much over twenty. It is strange to be
thinking of her now. She has not given her a moment’s thought in over sixty years. Kitty stirs herself from the table and plans to walk out to the post. This won’t do, she
thinks, daydreaming all day. But as she collects her keys in the hall and sets out with her letter in her hand, the name of the girl in the lorry jumps into her mind and her thoughts return
to that night in 1944.

 
June 1944
    Her name, she told them, was Joyce. They helped her up, supported her between them and guided her back to the road. It was quite dark by then and the waning moon, though still
more than three-quarters full, had not yet risen above the treetops.
    ‘Where do you live?’ Kitty asked.
    ‘Had to go did he? My young man?’
    Kitty and Sammy exchanged glances. Joyce pointed to where a row of small houses led towards a pub and began to sing: ‘ Kiss me goodnight, Sergeant Major – put me in my little
wooden bed! ’
    They made for the cottage at the end of the terrace and, as they approached, a side door opened and they were just able to make out the face of an older woman in the shadows. Joyce had hung
between them, allowing herself to be dragged along, singing and giggling. But now she pulled herself up straight and took her handbag from Kitty.
    ‘Hello, Ma,’ she said, scraping her heels loudly as she climbed the kerb. Sammy and Kitty followed and waited for her to go inside. Kitty smiled at the woman she presumed to be
Joyce’s mother, not knowing whether to expect to be thanked for bringing Joyce home or to be asked for an explanation. But the woman stared blank-faced and, as soon as Joyce had passed
through the doorway, she shut the door on them without a word.
    ‘Oh dear,’ said Kitty.
    Sammy took her arm and they walked away. ‘I’m sorry, Kitty.’
    ‘I hope she’ll be all right.’
    ‘I’m afraid we’re gonna have to walk now.’
    ‘Well, I didn’t want to get back in that lorry so —’
    ‘Oh God, no, I’m sorry, I am so sorry, Kitty.’
    They reached the pub and Kitty stopped to sit for a moment on a bench.
    ‘It’s about five miles from here, maybe a bit less.’ Kitty bent over and rubbed her toes through her shoes. ‘Trouble is, my feet hurt.’
    Sammy waited beside her for a moment before sitting down. ‘Do you want to rest for a while?’
    Kitty shook her head. ‘Aunt Vi will be waiting up and worrying. I think we should keep going.’
    They left the village, and Sammy took Kitty’s hand and squeezed it before pulling her closer to him and slipping his arm around her waist.
    ‘Lean on me.’
    ‘Tell me more about your home and your family.’
    ‘Well . . .’ Sammy thought for a moment while they climbed a rise. As they reached the brow and the lane curved away from them, he began to speak and Kitty tipped her head towards
him and listened. She forgot about her sore toes and lost herself