Homecoming

It had taken him a while to find the place; he wasn’t quite familiar with this part of the country. In fact, if it hadn’t been for his companion, he doubted he’d have found his way here at all. He turned his head, and found her seconds later. She was sitting on an old, worn wooden bench, wrapped up in a furred midnight black winter coat with her arms folded and dug into the crooks of her elbows. Her eyes were shut; concealing glowing amber orbs that stole the young man’s breath away every time he saw them. Her cute button nose was red and her smooth, peach cheeks were flushed from the cold. He never tired of looking at her, and though she’d never admit it, he knew the sentiment was reciprocated.

It was starting to look like it might turn out to be a pleasant day; the sun was out, with only the barest smattering of cloud to mar the deep, cerulean blue sky above. It was chilly, but the young man felt sure that, as the day progressed, it would grow warmer. At the edge of the grounds lay a small forest; the bare branches filtered the morning sunlight through bare branches, dotting his thick grey overcoat with flecks of orange and gold. He could hear birds chirping, and caught the occasional glimpse of movement. A deep, moist odour permeated the cemetery, stemming from the grass – still damp and wet from the morning dew. He took all of this in as he stood in the middle of the grounds.

He took a breath and turned his attention back to the reason he’d come all this way. A slate grey headstone protruded from the damp green grass, one among many dozens. Many of the tombstones were recent additions, freshly carved, perhaps not even a week old; a mere fraction of the lives lost in a war that had been started by a paranoid madman. He could have been here to visit any other one of these. A part of him wanted to; to pay the ghosts of the dead his respects, but that wasn’t feasible; Alice would only wait so long, he mused, the corner of his lips twitching at the thought of keeping her waiting longer than she already had.

Liam McKendry stood for a few moments longer, before steadily, slowly sitting himself cross-legged on the damp, wet grass. He felt his baggy trousers soak, and he knew his underwear would soon follow, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care; what was this compared to what so many people here had experienced? He glanced up at the one particular headstone he'd come to see.

“In Loving Memory of Diana McKendry
1959-1989
A daughter, sister, and dear friend to all who knew her.
May her sacrifice be forever remembered.”

Just below the epitaph was a smooth, professional carving of the badge of Diana’s beloved 9 Squadron, the distinctive bat icon rendered carefully, artfully into the stone along with the squadron’s motto: “Per noctum volamus”. Diana had told him it meant “Throughout the night we fly,” indicating the squadron’s penchant for night raids. It was on one of those very raids that Diana had encountered a pair of Russian super-fighters over Poland. That she had damaged one badly enough to force it to disengage and tied up the other long enough for the rest of her squadron to fall back and call in dedicated fighter support had come as small consolation to Liam at the time.

Now, looking back on it, without the flood of grief and rage that had overwhelmed him at the announcement, he could feel nothing but pride. His sister had put her life on the line and ultimately paid it in order to save the lives of her squadron. She was a hero. An inspiration. Someone future generations would look up to…

Liam felt his eyes itch and his vision began to blur. He held back the worst of the choking sob, but there was no way he could have stopped it. His head hung, as if he was ashamed to look at the grave of his older sibling.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, weeping openly, quietly for his loss. ‘I know you hate seeing me cry but…’ he sniffed, ‘I think I’m entitled to it here… right?’

He raised a hand and held it up to cover his eyes, wiping to clear his eyes.

‘We were all given leave when they gave the declaration,’ he told her, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard the lads cheer so loud. There was a party in the barracks; the entire battalion was there – even a few Navy boys and a couple dozen from the Royal Air Force… I saw Mikey there. He didn’t say anything, and neither did I but… I think he still misses you.’ Liam shook his head, ‘No, he /definitely/ misses you.’

He sniffed again and glanced away for a moment, thinking, before turning his gaze back to the grave.

‘I’m going to tell him about this place. If he’s even half the man you claimed he is then he’ll show up the same day with the biggest bouquet and…’ he trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Sorry,’ he said sheepishly, ‘I just– you know…’

Liam squeezed his eyes shut and took several deep, calming breaths. He had to get this off his chest. He needed to tell her what he thought.

‘I guess I still blame him a little. For leaving you back there. He probably hated it more than anyone and I know that – I really do – but at the same time…’ he released a staggered sigh and placed his head in his hands. ‘You know, I hated his guts when you first introduced us. Sure, there was the whole “dating my sister” thing but mostly it was just the fact that he seemed to have everything so… /together/ and I… didn’t.’

He paused, letting the silence descend and settle for a moment before continuing. This time, however, there was the ghost of a smile on his tired features.

‘Speaking of together; mum and dad have both remarried. Dad did it first with Catherine and mum did it not a day later with Patrick just to spite him I’d bet,’ he chuckled. ‘It’s fu– screwed up. I don’t think either of them are going to last; neither of them can stop arguing. It’s so much like the good old days it’s not even funny anymore. And the new step-folks? Jeez.’ Liam breathed out a heavy sigh and rocked back on himself, craning his head up to look at the sky. ‘I can’t stand being in the same room as either Patrick or Catherine, and it only gets worse when mum or dad are with them so you’d hate their guts for sure.’

Liam blinked slowly, before leaning backwards to lie down, still staring at the endless blue skies above.

‘I wish I knew what it felt like. Flying I mean. You used to talk about it like it was the only thing that had ever mattered. That it made you feel /free/. I really, /really/ wish I knew what that felt like.’

He could feel the tears threatening to return and he hastily rubbed his eyes with a hand in an effort to stamp them out.

‘You remember Payne? Our big ugly Mastiff? He died two weeks ago,’ he snorted and shook his head derisively, ‘Of course you do. If they’re not lying to us then he’s up there with you barking at strangers and peeing on the clouds whenever any black Labradors get too close to him.’ He stared at a passing cloud formation, a lazy, thin streak of puffy white that wafted along, just going wherever the breeze decided to take it.

 ‘Grandmama called the day it happened; said she’d come down to feed him and let him out and he was just… lying there. So still; like he was only sleeping,’ he sniffed again. ‘Ah, I loved that dog. You remember the way he’d chase after those squeaky toys of his? Clattering and scrabbling about like a cartoon character?’ He sucked on his lower lip and closed his eyes.

‘It doesn’t seem right. All that time, all the fighting, to come back and find he’s just gone. I know he was old and slow, and I know he must have been hurting but… it still sucks you know?’ His face scrunched up and he choked out another hushed sob.

He remained there for a further ten minutes, grieving in silence for the loss of his beloved pet and his sister, feeling his clothes soak through and the gentle wind play with the edges of his coat, caressing him like an old, dear friend.

Finally he stopped, sniffing heavily, noisily and sat back up again. He glanced back at Alice, who was still sat on the bench, appearing to be asleep. She had worked a shift all night and was still an hour away from clocking out when Liam had stepped in, hoping to catch her, to surprise her.

He remembered the way her mouth had formed a little “o” when she had looked up from the receptionist’s desk, those golden globes he loved so much completely fixed on him as he walked slowly over. He remembered reaching the desk and standing there for a moment, the two of them immersed in their own little world while a handful of others watched on with varying degrees of interest and confusion.

Then she had picked herself steadily from her chair, walked around the desk, eyes still locked on his own, and approached him. They had stood before each other for a full minute before Alice had reached a hand up, tentatively, to touch him, to make sure this was not some trick of the mind. She had stopped not a millimetre away from his face before she had thrown her arms around his neck and crashed her lips against his like the tide breaking against the shore.

The sensations had overwhelmed him; the scent of her perfume; the achingly familiar warmth of her body pressed against him; the feel of her soft, smooth skin as his hands traced lines over her face; the taste of her lips; and the electrifying tingle that had coursed through his entire being as he inhaled her presence, her very essence. For a woman who was not overly prone to outward displays of affection, she was most reluctant to pull away when they both remembered they needed to breathe.

Liam smiled at the not so distant memory, and, still looking at her, said, ‘I’m going to ask her to marry me today.’

He turned his head back to look upon the headstone, ‘I know what you’d probably say; and you’re completely right. But… and here’s something I never actually thought I’d ever say to you,’ he took a deep lungful of air in through the nose, ‘I don’t care. When we were digging the Reds out of Poland we saw such hell that I thought I’d die for sure in that miserable place. When the fire was pouring on, I found that I couldn’t think of anything else but Alice. Not my training, not you, certainly not mum and dad, but her.’

‘I love Alice Watts,’ he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. ‘And I couldn’t stand the idea that I’d never get to tell her that to her face.’

There was another period of silence after his declaration. After a further minute he picked himself up, wiping blades of grass from his considerably damp clothes.

‘I never got a chance to tell you this Di,’ he breathed, ‘but I’m proud of you. Real damn proud. Grandmama’s proud of you too and so is grandpa, don’t think we never were. Hell I bet even mum and dad are proud. I guess just…’ his voice broke and he cursed himself for letting this happen so many times today.

‘I just wish you could have been here with us to see the end,’ he croaked.

He was stood there for a while, finally allowing the dam to break, and for his grief – kept in check for so long – to spill out. Liam was certain he’d woken Alice, if she’d truly even been napping, but he couldn’t stop himself. He needed to do this. It hurt. It hurt more than anything he’d ever felt in his life and there was no plaster or magic word that could make it stop hurting, but when he was finally finished, when he had no more tears to shed, he felt lighter, like a great weight he hadn’t even realised existed had been lifted from his back.

‘Goodbye sis,’ he whispered as he began to turn away from the grave and walk back to the bench where Alice was waiting most patiently for him.

‘I miss you.’

The trip to his grandparents had taken a little less than an hour through the dense countryside. Usually Alice would have bemoaned the winding, narrow roads and hedgerows that completely obscured vision, but not today. Liam didn’t usually begrudge her those sentiments, but now he appreciated her silence more than she’d ever truly know.

They pulled into the drive of a country home that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a period drama with its distinctive Elizabethan architecture. Supposedly, Liam’s grandfather had won the deed to the home in a boyhood bet. Why someone had foolishly bet his own home Liam couldn’t begin to imagine but in the end, he supposed it mattered little. Alice parked her car and killed the engine, the pair of them stepping out onto the gravel.

It felt more than a little strange, coming back here after so much time spent away. Liam had experienced much of his childhood at this place, staying with his grandparents whenever his mother and father fought, which was depressingly often. Diana, who boarded at the Witch Academy, was spared the constant shuffling about.

Liam thought back to the last time he’d seen his grandparents. It must have been just before he’d been shipped off to Catterick for Infantry training. Grandpa had seen him off with an easy grin and a sharp salute, cheeky, considering he’d been Royal Navy. Grandmama had been nonstop fussing and regaling him with stories of her initial meetings with the man who would later become her husband. Then his ride had pulled up and, aside from the odd phone call to let them know how he was doing, that had been the last he’d seen of them.

He felt a wave of apprehension wash over him as they approached their front door, arm in arm. Would they recognise him? He didn’t think he’d have changed that much but what did they say about war and grief? There was also Alice; while he’d mentioned her enough times before he’d signed up he didn’t think they’d ever actually met now that he thought about it. What if they didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like them? Would she still say yes? Finally, and weighing most heavily upon him, was the fact that, during his entire tour in Europe, he’d been unable to get in touch with… well… anyone from the homeland. What if they thought he’d been killed like Di had? Would they be angry if he just suddenly turned up completely unannounced? What if–

‘Hey,’ Alice said, and her voice snapped him out of his fret. He realised that he was sweating, and also that his legs felt wobbly, like someone had removed his bones and replaced them with play dough.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked, looking up at him, concern all too evident in those gorgeous amber eyes of hers. Christ, he must have looked bad for her to appear so visibly worried.

He took his time before answering. Eventually he said pathetically, ‘I’ve not called in a while.’

The edge of her mouth twitched in amusement. Then she stood on the tips of her toes and gave him a delicate, soothing peck on the cheek.

‘Well then, this’ll be a nice surprise for them,’ she said, before muttering, ‘I hope…’ under her breath.

They reached the door. Liam spent what felt like an uncomfortably long time wondering whether or not this was a good idea before deciding that he was being stupid. Would they make a fuss about him not being in contact? Probably. But his grandparents weren’t the type to throw him out for something he had no control over. He knew this. He’d known it even before he’d started to panic.

So why was he hesitating?

He rang the doorbell.

After a moderate delay, he heard the distinctive rattle of someone manipulating the door latch. The handle twisted, and the door opened.

And there stood his grandmamma, dressed in a sky blue blouse and an elegant cream dress with a floral pattern; her long, grey hair worn in a simple ponytail. She looked older than her seventy-one years, and Liam felt a stab of guilt as he took this in. Was he the cause of this?

She blinked and looked up at the tall youth standing at the porch with the pretty brown haired woman at his side. For a moment she was silent, taking in the contours of his face. Remembering.

Recognising.

Her mouth dropped open, her crystal blue eyes widening as she realised that her mind was not playing tricks on her. With a shaking hand she reached up to touch the face of the boy she and her husband had started to believe would never return home, like his poor sister. She made contact, and the old woman released a groan that was an emotional cocktail of relief, joy and sorrow. Relief to know that he was all right, joy that he had finally come home, and sorrow at the loss of his sister – her granddaughter, and all the pain he must have suffered in that horrible war.

Without warning she took hold of Liam and embraced him, starting to weep as the boy she and her husband had practically raised themselves returned her gesture with as much affection as he could with the woman still linked to one arm. She tried to call for her husband but all that came out was a wail of ‘Thank God.’

Liam released a shaky breath, starting to tear up himself as he returned the hug with gusto, noticing the stocky profile of his grandpa emerging from the sitting room through the main hallway, surprise registering first, then recognition, and then he was joining the group hug too, arms enveloping his wife and Liam, his barrel chest hitching with gushing emotion. ‘Hey grandmama, hey grandpa,’ he whispered to them, clutching his grandparents as if they would float into the air if he released them.

‘I’m home.’

Relief flooded him when he spoke those two simple, glorious words. He liked it so much, that he said it again.

'I'm home.'