And She Dreamed of Her John
Grandma Edna listened to the shouts echoing from the kitchen. Her granddaughter, stern-faced forty-year-old Helen, and great-granddaughter, willowy teenage Emily, were arguing fiercely. Emily had just staggered in after a night out, and it seemed Helen had whipped a tea towel at her for her trouble. Emily wept noisily, protesting her innocence, while Helen scolded, each word a sting.
Was this really the time for a row? The sky outside was black, the house long past quiet hours. Years and years had taught Edna that such scenes did little good and only brought fear and ugliness. She drifted into thought, pondering old mistakes, long since counting noise and quarrels as sins upon her soul. Age made her powerless, able only to watch, to pray, to ponder.
Lord, please calm them, she whispered into the gloom. Lord, please…
It felt to Edna as if her days were ending, and yet something anchored her down in this worn, frail body. There was no pain, no fear, just a weary annoyance that she couldnt let gonot just yet. Her body still called out for food, demanded to be shifted in the bed, sometimes to simply sit up and gaze through the window. Each night, shed ask Helen to prop her up in the pillows, to open the window, draw back the curtains. She liked to see the world, to imagine she could glimpse the stars beyond the clouds.
Now, as the quarrel raged, Edna sat ready for the night.
Helen! she called out, hoping to distract her granddaughter, but Helen was lost to her fury.
Soon after, Emily burst in, threw herself into the faded armchair at Ednas feet, curling up like a wounded animal. She wept, her sobs shaking her frame.
Helen followed a few minutes later, fussing around Ednashifting a pillow here, picking at the covers, all while glancing at Emily.
Off to bed with you! she barked.
Leave me be, Emily snapped, unfolding the chair, Ill sleep here with Grandma.
She stormed off to fetch bedding, expressing her anger at her mothers orders with each determined step. The house was a rambling old cottage and Ednas room was as far from the kitchen as possiblethe cold side. Perhaps Emily slept here to show her resentment, refusing to share her mothers half of the house.
Her brother was off at a youth camp, her father, John, away working contracts. Hed been soft, always championing Emilys causes now, there was no one to plead her case against Helens strictness.
There you are, Grandma, Helen muttered, turning toward Edna, but clearly lecturing Emily. I told her, didnt I? Home by eleven! Its gone one oclock, shes been off with that idiot Nick Cartwright again. Hes trouble, truly. You know, hes got a police record! All the talking in the world, but she wont listen. Shell never finish her A-levels at this rate.
Emily said nothing, unfolding the bedding. Her movements were brisk, angry. Edna simply watched, not wanting to fan the flames. She picked up her hairbrusha ritual shed nearly finished before the quarreland ran it through her wispy hair, tucking it back on the nightstand, knowing sleep would not come soon.
Emily vanished to the bathroom, undressing quickly in those long-legged ways only a teenager managed, sliding into the covers wearing nothing but her vest and knickers. Her sniffles faded, replaced by the soft hush of late night.
A lull settled, then came the girls voice, tentative across the dark.
Gran, doesnt the moon keep you awake?
Me? Oh, child, I barely see it. If it bothers you, pull the curtains, Edna said, voice soft as a knitted blanket.
No, leave them. Its as if the moons the only thing that really understands me.
Youre not as alone as you think, love. Love itselfeveryone thinks they have it figured out, until they’re grown and realise quite how many mistakes they’ve made. Thats all your mothers worrying over.
She made mistakes then, too?
Oh, yes… One day, have a heart-to-heart and shell tell you.
Cant you tell me, Gran? Maybe Id understand why she is the way she is. Maybe shes been through things I ought to know about
Im not sure I remember well enough, darling. Ask her yourself.
Emily huffed, subsiding onto the pillow. Yeah, as if shed ever really tell me anything.
Its hard to understand one another without honesty. Ask her.
But, Gran, kids arent told everything. Mind you, Ill be eighteen next monthdont I deserve some privacy, too? Who am I to talk to about this, if not her? My mate Becky just calls me a fool
Why a fool, sweetheart? Edna blinked, surprised.
Emily just shrugged, retreating into cocoon silence.
They listened to the quiet, the faint hum of the night. Emilys voice grew small, hungry for reassurance.
Sometimes love runs into a brick wall, Gran. It doesntgrow anymore. I keep thinking it should, but…Well, I put up a barrier and say, No, further than this we shant go, and then he just cools off
Edna, puzzling, tried to latch onto her meaning, the way the old try to reach the young. Love is what it is, dear. Theres pain sometimes, yes, and bitterness, but also happiness. A dead end? Ive never heard of love hitting a dead end. Thats not how love works, not in my day.
She settled back, remembering. Edna was well-educated, a nurse from her youngest days, shaped by the hardships of war Britain, tending wounded soldiers in makeshift wards. Her lifes lessons never ended up on certificates, only in her bones.
But it happens, Gran.
Again, their thoughts orbited each other, never quite meeting. Emily, in the arrogance of youth, thought her grandmother too ancient to grasp what passion boiled in Nick Cartwright and in herself. Edna thought Emily little more than a child, still fumbling with clumsy ideas of love.
Restless, Emily shifted.
Are you watching the heavens out there, Em? asked Edna, looking in the little ones direction. Your great-granddad John used to say that if you stare long enough at one star, you can feel someone staring right back from it, as if answering you.
You loved him, didnt you, Gran?
My John? There was every kind of feeling. Lifes long, you know. But in the end I realised Id loved him terriblymore than I ever knew.
Emily straightened up with a spark. And you married him young, didnt you? Sixteen, wasnt it? See? You could do itwhys it so early for us, even at eighteen?
It was a different time, sweetheart.
Its not about time. Loves always the same!
Edna let the words hang. Maybe Emily was right. But it seemed to her theyd valued other things: young men were to be depended on, family protectors, not just sweethearts. Was it so now?
Gran, Emily continued, He was fifteen years older, wasnt he? And you were just a slip of a girl. Funny, men always want someone young. Thats all love is, isnt it?
Edna was quiet, and Emily grew sheepish with her own sharpness.
Gran Am I foolish? Tell me Tell me a story. Were both awake anyway. You want me to adjust your pillows?
As she spoke, Emily wriggled out from under her blanket, her white knickers and skinny legs pale in moonlight. She lifted Ednas pillows with care, then settled again into the seat, brimming with curiosity.
Edna was tired, tongue slow with age. But she wanted to soothe her distressed great-granddaughter, so she began, quiet and dreamy:
Theres not much to tell, really, Edna sighed, Only pain and courage. I met him at the hospital, near the end of the war, 1943. The wards were fullbandages, blood, constant surgery. I barely looked like a girl, hair cropped short for lice, military trousers, shirts too big. They called me lad sometimes, mistaken for a boy. My handsred raw from Dettol and alcohol. The army lorries rumbled through town like a riverthe wounded pouring in.
I remember, deaths came so relentlessly. Id cradle a boy just sixteen, thought he wouldnt make it but he clung on, a scout for the partisans. We got attached. In his final moments, hed grip my eyes with his, as if the whole world was in them. I knelt by his cot, kissed his face, pleaded with him not to die. But I saw that awful cold film slip over his eyes, and I sobbed as never before. Thought Id be used to it by then, but I wasnt.
She paused, remembering. Emily watched, breath silent.
Someone sat beside me, put his arm around my shoulders. I didnt even realise who at first. Have a good cry, nurse, he said, Youre only a child, and you carry so much. I wept on his shoulderJohn, your great-granddad.
The doctor found us and scolded me, but after that he and John talked long and quiet, out by the steps. John was a patient with a leg wound, left behind after the army moved on, meant to help rebuild the factories the Germans smashed. Hed bring me little giftsan apple slipped in my pocket, a kind wordbut I never thought of him as a suitor: unshaven, limping, over thirty with sadness in his eyes. I saw him as old.
But when the hospital closed, hed become part of the furniture. He knew I wanted to train as a nurse. One day, freshly shaven, he and the doctor called me in. Hed lost his wife and little girl in a bombing. Come to Yorkshire with me. Well marry, you can finish your studies. If it doesnt work, I wont hold you to it.
Edna paused, lost in the shadowed room, the story curling around them.
I barely knew what to feel. I thought of him more like a father, not a husband! I was so thin, my hair sticking up, the army clothes barely holding to me a bride, I was not. But he was kind. We married at the registry, caught the train north with all I owned in a knapsack.
For two years, we lived almost as father and daughternothing more. We slept apart. The room was icy, we changed behind the wardrobe door. Yet he was generous: hed buy me little hats and stockingsfancy dresses, even a blue one, dotted with stars, my favourite dress for years. I finally finished school and got into nursing college. Some of those young doctors took an interest, but I was already marriedthough only John ever mattered. I was proud of him.
Emily wrinkled her nose. But how could you love him, Gran, if you just lived like friends?
Not only friends, not really. I trusted him. He was my anchor. In time, I would slip into bed with him for warmth, for comfort. I realised only later how much he cared for me, how gentle he truly was.
And later?
Ednas face twisted with pain.
Things changed The authorities arrested himaccused him of damaging equipment at the factory, something to do with sabotage. So many men were taken that year, just like that. I knitted him socks, brought him food. On the day of his trial, among a sea of families, he told me, Divorce me, Edna. Be free. Im the enemy now.
A tear crept down Ednas face. Emily crept to the edge of the bed, stroking her feet.
Dont cry, Gran. She looked up, solemn. Many were sent away then, werent they?
Yes, especially families with childrenthe heartbreak was brutal. I followed him to the north, settled in a little village. Other women did, too. When they transferred our men to work the pits, they needed a medic, so I was taken on. Life was hard, just like at the hospital, but we lived together, finally, as husband and wife. I was about your age then, and at last, I wanted to be his wife in every way. Thats when your grandad was born, and your grandmother, Helens mum, in Yorkshire, when things righted themselves after the Pardon. I finished my training. Our third boy came much laterin this very house. John was over fifty, I nearly forty. He died too soon
Emily hugged her knees.
Gran lifes so much more complicated than I thought. Everythings backwards now.
Backwards?
Your love grew after you married. Now, people say you should be in love first. Its all upside down.
No one can demand love, Emily. It comes as a gracesomething deserving or undeserving, but never an order. If you force it, it isnt love.
Emily nodded, suddenly candid. Were talking at cross-purposes, Gran. I meantwell, you knowsleeping together, intimacy. Becky says things wouldnt move further with Nick unless I gave in. Thats…expected now.
Edna hesitated, then answered softly, Thats something else entirely, dearest, not love itself. True love is when someone carries you to the bathroom after youve had a baby, or runs the length of the city when youre in danger. Its Kat, Aunt Kate, jumping into a river to save her husband, though she couldnt swim, but love made her try. Its the ordinary thingswaiting at home, cooking dinner, caringthose are the pinnacle of love.
She coughed, out of breath, and Emily quickly poured her warm water from the flask.
But what if he really cant wait anymore, Gran? He says if I loved him, Id prove it, that our relationship is finished if I hold back. Becky told me hes already chasing after Natasha Green
And what do you want, love? Are you afraid he wont marry you? Or that its all a mistake?
I dont know, Gran. What if I only think I love him? And he only thinks he loves me? I want something thatll last, forever, like you and Grandad, or Mum and Dad.
Then, trust your heart. Love shouldnt make you feel pressured. True passion is gentle, love is clear and calm. I remember wanting John so much, I had no doubtsashamed but sure. Thats when you know, Emily.
Edna was shocked at her own candour in this tired night, sharing old truths with a child. But as she watched the sky, it felt as if, just as John said, someone was watching her from the stars, nudging her to speak.
She didnt realise when shed dozed off. When she woke, Emily was asleep as well, curled in a ball on the chair. Edna couldnt remember whether theyd finished their conversation, or what had come over her to be so honest. Perhaps the magic of the night, the pull of the sky.
She looked down on Emily, long legs bundled beneath her. Lord, what things theyd discussed. Maybe it was a mistake. Or maybe not. Perhaps God himself had sent the girl to her room that night.
Helens mother, Lena, had been lost young to a cruel illness, so Helenpractical but easily riledlooked after Edna. The house was large, the work never-ending, the children demanding. No wonder Helen was sometimes short with everyone.
In the morning, Edna slept late. Helen helped with her morning routine, cleaned her up, then brought porridge in a bowl, propping her up.
Try not to shout at Emily like that, Edna chided gently. What will happen, will happen. Talk to her, tell her about yourself.
As if I could! Shes just a girl. Did you see him last night? Beer in hand, arm round her like he owns her. She gazes at him like he hung the moon.
You were just the same. Your mother told you not to see boys, remember? You didnt listen.
Oh, Gran, hush. Sometimes I wonder. And what were you two whispering about all night? I heard you.
Just stories. I told her everythingI hardly know how!
Helen bustled out, and Edna remembered all the old worries over Helens own wild love. When Helen was young, shed come home from college, pregnant and alone. That love had vanished before it began, but Edna had insisted on keeping the baby. Fate had other plans, and the pregnancy was lost despite their hopes.
Helens children knew nothing of that. Her husband John did, his love forgiving. He was a good man, loved her.
Later that day, a neighbour called in, and the two old friends reminisced, shed a few tears over wars and weddings.
The next morning, Helen crept into Ednas room, her voice full of quiet gratitude.
I have no idea what you said to Emily, Gran, but shes finished with Nick Cartwright. For good, she said. Hes already chasing someone else. Helen paused, brushing Emilys hair, looking worried.
Is she all right?
Shes stayed in her room all day. Im leaving her be.
Talk to her, Helen. She needs to know shes not alone in the things she feels.
Helen hesitated, but soon left to try, and Edna heard their voices murmuring together softlythe rare intimacy of a mother and daughter finding each other again. Light spilled into the kitchen, pots clattered, voices grew lively and warm. Peaceful, Edna drifted into sleep.
And she dreamed of her Johnreliable, beloved, bathed in gentle careas if hed slipped gently down from his star. She ran to meet him, barefoot across a rain-fresh meadow, wearing her blue dress sprinkled with stars. Every blade of grass, every daisy glowed. John stood in the centre of the field, strong and young, arms open. She fell into his embrace, their souls meeting sweetly, as if heaven itself had brought them together at last.
