Continuing the Story of Norma and Jim Rogers, young parents who, having survived the horrors of being split apart by war, are trying to get used to being a couple again in peacetime. The characters and the story are fictional and may best be described as an amalgam of things that happened during an extraordinary time. I must express my thanks to the efforts of a great editor, Yellow Peril, who helps my story make much more sense. The story is copyrighted and remains the property of the author, and may not be used without the author's consent.
Norma Part 9
In many ways, the time that Jim was on leave was hard on the two of us, harder than the heady time when we courted and married. Even though there was no threat of Jim going off to war again, it was hard at first to get used to being together all the time. Jim no longer commanded a squadron of men, and I was a housewife, no longer in charge of the Ambulance station. There were just the two of us, with two children to raise. At first I was the sole disciplinarian, as Jim was so new to the close contact with the twins that they soon realized that Daddy was a pushover. If Mummy wouldn't give them something, then Daddy likely would. We were fortunate that Mum and Mhairi stepped in, taking the twins under their wings quite a lot, giving Jim and me time for serious discussions as well as long walks together, or trips to the cinema. As he improved, we were able to go dancing at the local ballroom. We, in a sense, were doing the dating that we hadn't had the time to do during the war. It gave us the chance to discover ourselves all over again, though Jim was still unable to make love to me for a while.
Then came the surrender of Japan, the last obstacle to peace. It touched off many celebrations, but foremost in most of our minds was the feeling of relief that the fighting was finally over. No longer would we be sending our men and sometimes women to far off countries to fight and die. We would be bringing them all home, except for Occupation Forces, and they would mostly be new troops, allowing those who had faced the battles to return home to their families in Britain, the USA, Canada, Australia and all the other allied countries.
After two weeks of Jim's leave, we began to slowly open up the London house. Most days found us busing in from Bromley, but occasionally Jim and I stayed the night, the children being left with their grandmothers. Jim's first comment when we opened the front door and walked in was, "This place really needs redecorating."
My answer was equally simple, "My love, remember, there has been a war on. Even if we could have found any paint, we didn't have any time to put it on the walls." Jim insisted that we needed to re-decorate, so the hunt was on for paint and wallpaper, but we found that shop after shop was out, all over London, until we finally had a stroke of luck. We had taken time off to go for a walk, and while sitting on a seat in the park in Bromley, we were talking about where we might find paint. An older lady who had been seated on the next bench came over to us. She had overheard us, and told us she owned a chandler's, flooring and paint shop. Due to the lack of staff, she had closed off most of the shop except for the chandlery side. In the other part of the shop, she had some paint and wallpaper left. She told us that we were welcome to the paint and wallpaper if it was still usable. She took us to the shop, and old as it was the paint was still good because it had never been opened, and the paper was just fine too. To top it all off, she still had some rolls of linoleum so we could renew the floors. I turned to Jim, "There! You have been looking for something to do with yourself, so here you go." For the first time in a long period, I saw a genuinely happy smile on his face.
"Come on. Let's go get started," he said to me with a grin.
Old as it was, and even with the limited choice of colours, we bought paint, wallpaper and linoleum and started the project, helped once in a while by Bert or Jenny. Sometimes we had as much paint on ourselves as the house, and engineer that he was, Jim still got into some comical situations hanging wallpaper and laying linoleum.
Bert had been offered his Chief Petty Officer's job back in the peace time navy, either that or demobilization. He decided that, after having spent some time as an officer, he didn't want to return to the lower decks, even as a Chief. It was time to stay home; Civvy Street beckoned and he was planning to start his own radio business. Jenny, well, Jenny was Jenny, a happy wife and mother, not yet pregnant again, but as she put it, really trying.
It was a happy time, a time that saw Jim gradually coming out of the withdrawn state that he had been in since he came home. During one of our painting sprees, after the inside of the house was complete, we were out in the backyard whitewashing the walls (that was a custom at the time). As we slapped the whitewash on, we were getting ourselves splashed as well. I got some in the face, and started muttering about not being a painter. Jim turned and looked, and for the first time since he came home, he roared with laughter. Not to be outdone, I took my brush and, while he was laughing, I painted a line across his forehead, and then down his nose. Then the battle was on, just like a pair of children, laughing like crazy we painted each other until we were almost completely white. Then Jim dropped his paintbrush, grabbed me, and pulling me into him, kissed me so deeply that I almost buckled at the knees. I reached up around his neck, pulling his head down to me, kissing him back, right through the whitewash. He sighed, "Norma, I feel that things are starting to get better; please stick with me."
I pulled him down to me again, whispering, "I'm not going anywhere. You're my husband, my lover and the father of my children. You are part of me, and I of you; the words were 'Till death do us part.' I have never meant anything as much as I meant that promise."
To celebrate the end of the decorating, we arranged for a neighbor to sit with Bert's and Jenny's kids, and we all went round for a drink at the Dog and Duck. Maisie and her husband Sid were there as well, and we had quite a party, enough of one that we didn't work much the next day. It ended up a good job, really, as we had a visitor, my friend Mr. Richards from Military Intelligence, who came to see us. I introduced him to Jim, and to my surprise the pair of them got on like a house on fire, talking of the Burma Campaign and the work done on the airfields.
Eventually I interrupted, "Do you mind telling me why you are visiting? If there is any more intelligence work to be done, I'm out of it. As far as I'm concerned, I'm just an ordinary housewife now."
Smith answered, "No, there isn't, though I don't think you will ever be merely an ordinary housewife, not after the job you did during the war. The one thing I wanted to mention is that, should you ever be approached by the Russians, we would appreciate knowing about it. Another thing is, you are not a civilian, not quite. Your predecessor was able to leave and nurse her husband, as she was just a member of the Volunteer Ambulance Service. You, however, are still an ATS officer with all the responsibilities that go with the job. We are processing your demobilization, but we would like you to take part in a special ceremony at your former station to celebrate the work done by the ATS and Volunteer Ambulance during the war."
"When will this be?"
"In two weeks' time." He turned to Jim, "By the way, Major Rogers, your leave has been extended until after the ceremony, and we would be grateful if you would attend the ceremony as well, in uniform of course." Looking at Jim in his painting clothes, he smiled as he noted, "Those are hardly the clothes for a military celebration." We told him we would be there, and as it happened, the ceremony became one of the most important and effective parts of Jim's recovery.
Two weeks later, both of us in uniform, we walked into the station. We were surprised to see all the ambulance and fire vehicles parked on the street instead of in the yard. Both of us were blissfully unaware of what was going to happen during the ceremony. As we walked into the building, a tall captain from the Royal Engineers, carrying a sword and belt, marched up to Jim, halted, saluted and offered him the sword. Jim took the sword with a surprised look on his face and asked, "Doug, what is going on?"
"Squadron Parade, Skipper; every single one of the Burma Campaign survivors is out there, along with the families of the men who didn't come back; they are waiting for you to join us."
