1944 [n.h]

chapter three

Apparently there had been a bombing on the east coast of France early yesterday morning, but we hadn't received any fatal news yet. Mother was still fretting. We'd been working all morning, I'd been at the counter and she'd been, well standing beside me and nervously tapping her fingers on the wooden boards, so she wasn't really working as much as overseeing. If you could call it that.

The bakery was unusually full this morning, I mean, it usually was somewhat busy on a Saturday, but this type of business was almost unheard of. Mrs Archer was sat in the window seat of the bakery. She was almost 80 and would come in nearly every day for a cup of tea and sandwich, her husband had died in the last war we had. You had to feel sorry for her, she must've been lonely, when she would come in here she'd talk nonstop, whether she'd tell old stories or just gossip about the town people would always try their best to listen.

I was scribbling down a receipt for one of the customers when the bell for the door went causing me to look up. I thought the bakery had grown unusually quiet and my stomach dropped as I saw Niall. Walking through and straight up to the counter where I was. I hoped to god he'd be kind and pretend we didn't know each other, he knew the consequences there would be for me.

I looked at him wearily as he stopped in front of me and smiled before sighing and looking at the menu above me. People in the bakery stared at him, his uniform, his hat, his hair. They took in all the minute details of him, examined him head to toe like a piece of meat. I don't know how he had the confidence to remain so strong in front of them all, I'd be quivering and crying like a baby under the pressure.

"I'll have two slices of your soda bread?" He asked and looked down at me, a playful glint in his eye, informing me he wouldn't let on that we knew each other.

"Are you having it here, or taking it away? Sir?" I asked, I was never any good at acting and was fighting the notion to burst out laughing for absolutely no reason. Niall scoped the small seated area of the bakery before pursing his lips and nodding.

"I'll have it here, you'll bring it over to me?" He asked as I nodded and half his mouth curled at the corners in to a smile before going and sitting at the table next to Mrs Archer. I hoped he was prepared.

I watched from the corner of my eye as I prepared Nialls usual. At first he was silent, his eyes glued to the table beneath him, it was almost as if he was nervous. He couldn't have been. As the moments ticked by he started to look around, studying the wallpaper and photos hung up before tracing the warped wood on the table. It was almost intriguing watching him slowly become comfortable with his surroundings and study them.

"You're training for the war?" Mrs Archer asked, turning her chair at an angle as Niall looked up from the table and nodded through a smile. "My Charlie was in the Great war." She cooed as Niall nodded and turned around to face her. I sliced the bread and watched him engage her in conversation, something people rarely did. You could see, clearly that he was making her day and likewise she was making his, it was strange to find someone who accepted the soldiers so for her to talk to Niall so liberally about how hard he's working and his life back home must have really meant something to him.

His eyes were gleaming and happy as he spoke with Mrs Archer, asking about her husband, Charlie as she pulled out her battered purse and presented torn and crumpled black and white photos of a dashing man in his early thirties in an army uniform, clearly taken when they were both much younger.

"And that's my Charlie and I when we were married, nineteen I was, nineteen!" She gushed as Niall laughed and nodded. Mrs Archer had so much to talk about, so many stories floating around in her tired mind, it made me want to beg Niall to continue talking to her, just so I could listen whilst I worked.