No trace: Part Two of The Accidental Trilogy

Chapter Twenty Five

Back inside I quickly change while listening to 'George and Daniel' talk to the head of the family.

It's a quick conversation, more a case of sizing them up rather a detailed listing of experience.

In the morning, they depart for the fields, I for the town. Starting early, I travel to a few others, some a little more prosperous than others. I return in the afternoon, in time to see the menfolk return from the fields.

Before dinner, the two of them show me how much they have saved thus far. It is an impressive amount. And I say so.

'Tomorrow, I will take some of the loose coins and transfer them to notes.'

'Where is your stash?' Tristan asks me.
In answer, I pull the shawl out from the suitcase. 'Have a look.'

Tristan presses down and grins. 'Clever.'

'Not just a pretty face,' Alaric comments.

I smile a little, before asking, 'How much do you think we will have to save?'

'Enough for tickets, some money for rent and more for supplies before we can start looking for work.' Like me, they are both thorough. Tristan ticks these off on his fingers before adding, 'We have just enough for the first two.'

'And we will have to change the pounds to US dollars,' I mention. 'The bank will likely take a cut.'

'Three more months,' Alaric says firmly. 'That will do it, I think.'

On the eighth of May, Victory is declared in Europe. We are all allowed to take a day and the three of us travel south to London, to really celebrate. Transport is difficult so we run there. The crowds build to bursting.

We have all dressed up for the occasion. From dance hall to pub to another club, we dance and drink.

We listen to the radio at one of our stops; George VI makes a good and impassioned speech.

'We kept faith with ourselves and with one another, we kept faith and unity with our great allies. That faith, that unity have carried us to victory through dangers which at times seemed overwhelming.'

I dance the next two dances with Alaric, definitely the better dancer of the two but I don't mention it.

Two dances turn to five before I even realise it.

Tristan warns us of the time, Alaric gives me a piggyback as we run back to the farmhouse. I lean forward onto his shoulders, the wind feels so gentle on my face and for the moment, I feel so happy.

We take a ship from Liverpool, bound for New York, a few weeks later.

Andrea has to share the stable with five other horses, which I can tell he is not pleased with.

That being said, my room isn't much better. I am sharing the bathroom with two other girls and the room itself with another who is all nerves thanks to the arranged marriage she has been entered into with a complete stranger. She talks and I listen, trying for both our sakes to calm her a little. Up on deck, I find the others for some more relaxed conversation.

Before we depart the ship, I do her makeup for her, looking as wan she does, they might put her in quarantine and I do my own, so many weeks on a ship like this is not healthy for anyone.

In the passport queue, I watch this girl go through without a hitch and the three of us are fine too.

Our first stop is the bank and the three of us watch in silence as our carefully saved pound notes are swapped for American dollar bills.

We book into a motel for the next few nights, while we look for more permanent accommodation in Brooklyn. As well as work, which is now slightly more difficult for me than it is for the menfolk.

All the servicemen are returning and it seems that the girls are getting kicked out.

I continue to busk, mostly on subway stations, but there is now an air of desperation to the music that wasn't there before. Tristan works for a contractor on buildings, Alaric for a plumber.

I finally get a job as a switchboard operator, sticking the different tubes into the right sockets is somehow fascinating to me and yet I am still bored at the end of the shift.

I can tell the others are too. Europe in wartime was dangerous sure, but we were doing things and having fun.

That evening as I return to the apartment, I put my pay in the jar and sit down at the table with the others.

'This is fucked.'

'I have to concur,' Tristan says, rocking the chair with his feet. 'Alaric?'

He simply stands and says, 'Let's drive to San Francisco.'

The cash in the jar, we use to buy a car, grab everything we own and we walk out the next day to the newly purchased used Ford and start driving.

None of us knows which way we're going at first and we 'somehow' end up detouring to New Orleans for a few weeks.

Busking central it seems like and for the majority, I'm joined by fellow musicians who follow my lead in the haunting tunes that I play. Tristan and Alaric are the audience starters, a crowd will build and after we end, we go out partying on the money we've collected. It's a good system.

We do have to move on at some point though, but I make the men promise that we'll come back at some point.

'Amy, we're definitely coming back here,' Alaric says to me firmly. He takes both my hands and deftly kneels down on one knee.

'What are you doing?' I whisper.

'Amy. Do you love me?'

Monsters can't love. Or can they? Maybe I am not as unlovable as I thought. I do love this stupid idiot though. It has taken me a while to recognise what I felt, and feel and now I do. 'I love you Alaric.'

'Thank God for that. Will you marry me?'

'Yes!' I reply quickly. It's just then I realise that I have tears streaming down my face.

'Alaric you fool, you've made her cry already,' Tristan has entered the motel room without either of us noticing and is leaning against the doorframe.

'Shut up.'

'Let's get married,' I suggest to Alaric.

'Tristan, you'll come right?'

'Yeah, has to be at least one witness, right?'

'Shut up,' both of us reply, laughing.