Ruth turned to a petite young woman, approximately sixteen years of age, who was on crutches. Leg calipers were visible below the hem of her plaid skirt, and her facial features were similar to those of Jimmie, especially her high cheekbones and hazel eyes.
Ruth smiled. “Hi. I’m Ruth.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Nora.” She propped a crutch against a wall and extended her arm. “I won’t break. You’re welcome to hug me, too.”
Ruth’s tension eased and she embraced her warmly.
They settled into a reception room that smelled faintly of soap and vinegar, which reminded Ruth of the scent of her childhood home after her maman had given it a good cleaning. Ruth sat on a sofa with Nora, while Harriet and Archibald settled in matching, dark blue upholstered chairs.
Harriet intertwined her fingers, as if she were about to pray. “You mentioned on the telephone that you met Jimmie in France.”
“Yes,” Ruth said. “I was a volunteer ambulance driver for the French Army, before I was evacuated to England.” She shifted in her seat as she struggled to find the right words. “I will do my best to tell you everything I know about what happened to Jimmie.”
“We’d be grateful for any insight you can provide us,” Archibald said. “The telegram we received said that he was shot down and missing, believed killed. We’ve contacted the RAF, but they have provided us with nothing.”
“I don’t know how to say this,” Ruth said, gathering her courage. “So, I’m just going to say it. Jimmie was killed during the mass evacuation of troops from a port in France, not from being shot down. I’m deeply sorry.”
Harriet lowered her head into her hands and cried.
Nora’s eyes filled with tears.
Archibald stood and placed an arm around his wife.
For the next hour, Ruth told them everything—how she and Lucette rescued Jimmie after he bailed out of his plane, their escape to Paris and journey to the coast at Saint-Nazaire, and the German raid on the Lancastria, which was carrying in excess of six thousand evacuees.
“Oh, dear God,” Harriet said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“There has been nothing in the newspapers about this,” Archibald said.
Ruth looked at him, his face etched with sadness. “Officers of the Royal Navy ordered the survivors to never speak about the sinking of the Lancastria. They’d told us that if we said anything about what happened in Saint-Nazaire, we’d be in violation of King’s Regulations and would be severely punished.”
Nora drew a deep breath and smoothed her skirt. “Why are you taking such a risk to tell us?”
Ruth’s chest tightened. “Jimmie gave his life for his country—and for France. His family deserves to know the truth.”
Harriet wiped her eyes and sat forward in her chair. “Is there any chance he could have gotten out?”
Ruth shook her head. “He was in the hull, where none of the hundreds of RAF ground crew members escaped.”
Archibald ran a hand through his thin hair. “I don’t understand it. He knows better than to allow himself to be put in the hold of a ship.”
Ruth felt sick to her stomach. “Jimmie knew the hull wasn’t safe. He went there to try to get members of his ground crew to come topside. The bombing occurred while he was there.”
Archibald’s hands trembled. He plucked a handkerchief from a pocket and dabbed his eyes.
“Forgive me,” Harriet whimpered. “I need a moment to get a bit of fresh air.”
“I’ll come with you.” Archibald helped his wife from her seat, and they walked through a rear door to a garden.
Ruth looked at Nora. “I’m so sorry. Would you like me to leave?”
“No.” Nora wiped her face. “I’m grateful that you came. We’ve been agonizing over the telegram for weeks. It’s painful to hear what happened to my brother, but it’ll help me and my mum and dad to gain a sense of peace and closure to his death.”
Ruth placed her hands on her lap. She buried her horrid thoughts of the Lancastria and turned her mind to fond memories. “Jimmie spoke about you often.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me you were the bravest person he knew.”
“He did?”
Ruth nodded. “He told me how you proved all your doctors wrong and regained your ability to walk. He said you were incredibly clever, and that he was chuffed that you were planning to go away to college. And, on more than one occasion, he told me that you were going to make a brilliant librarian.”
Nora smiled.
“He adored you, and he was hugely proud of you.”
“Same. He was the best brother anyone could ask for.” Nora rubbed her knees, strapped with calipers.
“I have something for you.” Ruth reached inside her purse, removed Piglet, and gave him to her. “Jimmie left him in my bag for safekeeping. I think he would have wanted him to be returned to you.”
Nora ran a thumb over the cuddly toy, stained gray from oil. Tears formed in her eyes and she blinked them away. “I thought it would keep him safe.”
Ruth placed a hand on her arm. “He took great comfort in having something so dear to you with him. To Jimmie, this charm was a symbol of hope.”
Nora squeezed Ruth’s hand. “Thank you for saying that.”
Ruth nodded.
