Born to an English father and a German mother, brothers Michael and Franz are separated as babies. But their passion for the sea is shared, and their careers in the respective Navies of their countries mirror each other. When the Second World War breaks out, both Michael and Franz are pressed into service; Michael on a destroyer and Franz on a submarine. Their paths cross several times until a fateful battle in 1945 when the two brothers are finally brought together. One Above And One Below unfolds the stories of Michael and Franz, their lives, loves, aspirations and difficulties. Trevor Towers' charming novel is full of interesting and in-depth naval details, thrilling descriptions of sea battles and honourable characters.
Born to an English father and a German mother, brothers Michael and Franz are separated as babies. But their passion for the sea is shared, and their careers in the respective Navies of their countries mirror each other. When the Second World War breaks out, both Michael and Franz are pressed into service; Michael on a destroyer and Franz on a submarine. Their paths cross several times until a fateful battle in 1945 when the two brothers are finally brought together. One Above And One Below unfolds the stories of Michael and Franz, their lives, loves, aspirations and difficulties. Trevor Towers' charming novel is full of interesting and in-depth naval details, thrilling descriptions of sea battles and honourable characters.
Born to an English father and a German mother, brothers Michael and Franz are separated as babies. But their passion for the sea is shared, and their careers in the respective Navies of their countries mirror each other. When the Second World War breaks out, both Michael and Franz are pressed into service; Michael on a destroyer and Franz on a submarine. Their paths cross several times until a fateful battle in 1945 when the two brothers are finally brought together. One Above And One Below unfolds the stories of Michael and Franz, their lives, loves, aspirations and difficulties. Trevor Towers' charming novel is full of interesting and in-depth naval details, thrilling descriptions of sea battles and honourable characters.
Born to an English father and a German mother, brothers Michael and Franz are separated as babies. But their passion for the sea is shared, and their careers in the respective Navies of their countries mirror each other. When the Second World War breaks out, both Michael and Franz are pressed into service; Michael on a destroyer and Franz on a submarine. Their paths cross several times until a fateful battle in 1945 when the two brothers are finally brought together. One Above And One Below unfolds the stories of Michael and Franz, their lives, loves, aspirations and difficulties. Trevor Towers' charming novel is full of interesting and in-depth naval details, thrilling descriptions of sea battles and honourable characters.
Trevor Towers was born in Brighton, England at the end of the
Second World War. As the son of a naval officer, he spent much
of his childhood in Malta, where his father was posted. Trevor cherishes these memories to this day. The family later returned to England and settled in Portsmouth. Trevor attended the Royal Hospital School, also known as Holbrook', near Ipswich. It was a boarding school with a strong focus on instilling its pupils with the values and skills necessary for a career in the British Armed Forces. Trevor subsequently spent many years in the army; his experiences from those days have a strong influence in his writing. He has married twice, and has five sons. Much of Trevor's life has been spent travelling the world or living overseas. Time spent in Saudi Arabia, Iran, Africa, and Asia has inspired many of his stories. In 2004, whilst holidaying in Phuket, Thailand, Trevor and his wife Petra were caught in the Boxing Day Tsunami. They were swept away by the full force of the wave that killed so many but, miraculously, they survived. Despite their terrifying experience, they fell in love with Thailand and its people, and subsequently settled in Hua-Hin, where they still reside today.
trevortowersbooks.webs.com
To Petra Towers
Copyright Trevor John Towers
The right of Trevor John Towers to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 184963 726 8
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2014) Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd. 25 Canada Square Canary Wharf London E14 5LB
Printed and bound in Great Britain
Chapter One
Portsmouth, England, 1922
It was another busy day in the maternity ward at St Marys Hospital in the naval town of Portsmouth, on the south coast of England. As midwives, nurses, and the occasional doctor busied themselves with their daily task of bringing new life into the world, a number of first-time fathers anxiously paced up and down the corridor outside the delivery ward. One man sat reading a paper, trying to appear unfazed by the sounds of women groaning or screaming that escaped every time the door to the ward swung open. His name was Tom Smith. He was a local man in his late twenties, exactly six foot tall, with straight brown hair. Tom glanced furtively at the other men pacing around, then without turning his head, he sized up the man who was sitting beside him. Tom remembered how he had felt the first time: the nerves, the sweating, and worst of all, feeling helpless. Like all men, Tom hated to feel helpless, and he and the others were exactly that. They could do nothing but wait. He noticed that most of the men were chain-smoking. Tom had never smoked, mainly because he could never afford to waste his meagre earnings on cigarettes. He folded up his paper, placed it in his lap, and nodded a friendly hello accompanied by a shy grin to the man sitting beside him. The man stopped frowning momentarily to return the smile. You seem to be calm, mate. Is this your first as well? he asked Tom. No, Tom replied, its my second. The first one was a boy; Im hoping for a little girl this time. Well, I can tell you Im in a state; this is my first. I dont know why I feel so worried. After all, this goes on every day,
doesnt it? I guess I feel so helpless - you always think that you could be the unlucky one, dont you? Stop worrying, pal, itll be all right. Normally if there are complications, they happen during the pregnancy, Tom said, lying just a little bit to help calm the poor man down. Toms mind wandered back to when their first son Michael had been born, in the exact same hospital and ward on the 4 th of January. Now here he was again on the 19 th of October in the same year. Two babies on one year, he thought with a smile. The truth was, Tom wasnt feeling much different this time either. He had a bunch of roses sitting in his lap as he waited and waited to hear news of the birth. Every time a nurse came out of the delivery room, he asked if Inga had delivered yet. He was concerned at the length of time he had left their firstborn with the neighbour. Only for a short while, he had told them - that was four hours ago, when Ingas pains had started and her water broke. It caught them unawares; she had seemed fine all morning and the baby wasnt due for another week, and then all of a sudden, panic stations. It had been previously arranged to enlist the help of a friendly neighbour who lived just up the road and had a car. Luckily, the neighbours were home having lunch when Tom came banging on the front door, holding his ten-month old son in one arm. Its time, its time; babys coming now, he said breathlessly. Toms neighbour grabbed his jacket, said goodbye to his wife as she took the baby, and they drove back to Toms. Inga was waiting by the front gate with her packed holdall. She climbed into the car somewhat clumsily. Her labour had now started and she moaned in pain during the half hour drive to the hospital. Once there, Tom raced into the hospital reception area trying to get some help, only to find when he returned to the car that Inga was already on her way to the delivery room; she had been collected by a couple of nurses. He made his own way there by following the signs. After checking that she was all right, he sat down to wait. Twice he got up to ask how she
was doing. Twice he was told everything was all right and not to worry, it wouldnt be long now. Tom sat quietly and started to daydream, thinking about his work, his house, his life, his friends all the while thoughts about Inga kept popping into his head. He recalled the first time he met her: tall, blonde, blue-eyed, beautiful. Inga was a twenty-two-year-old German national who had come to England to work as a nanny for a wealthy family four years earlier. They met one day out on the Common, where Tom took his dog for a walk during his one-hour dinner break from work. Inga took the baby she cared for out for a walk in its pram at the same time daily. Tom had noticed her before, as indeed she had noticed him. After encountering each other at a distance a few times, day he made sure to walk alongside her so he could start up a conversation, to which she warmly responded. After meeting a few times, they had a favourite bench where Inga could rock the pram gently, keeping the baby quiet, and Toms dog Rusty would run around with other dogs or chase the odd rabbit. On one occasion, Rusty disappeared. One minute he was at Toms feet, the next he had bolted off after something. Obviously, this time he had gone too far and become lost. Tom and Inga spent a couple of hours searching for Rusty, to no avail. Eventually Inga had to return with the baby for feeding time. Tom spent another hour searching for Rusty but he just couldnt find him. Then when he returned home, there was Rusty on the doorstep, looking as Tom as if to say, What took you so long? When Tom was with Inga, nothing else really mattered. They would talk about nothing in particular; the weather, the area they lived in, Ingas bosses, their neighbours; just happy to be chatting. One day, Tom asked Inga why she had decided to come to England. Apart from Inga, Tom was still not keen on Germans due to his own experiences during the war as a very young soldier, only sixteen years of age. He had been a drivers assistant in the transport corps, which ran the ambulances. He blamed them for all the blood and gore he had seen, although later on he came to accept that Britain had done just as much damage to the Boche.
Inga smiled knowingly, as if she had been expecting his question. She replied, I know all about the war, Tom; it took my father away from us. He died needlessly. War is stupid Inga seemed upset. She sighed deeply and stared up at the sky. You must miss your father. I miss mine. He was killed too. Tom was suddenly jolted back from reminiscing by the sharp click clack of a nurses heels as she came walking at a fast pace down the corridor. As she passed, he asked her about Inga and he received the same answer he had received from all the other nurses, Wont be long now, sir, you must be patient. Tom leaned back and returned to his memories. Inga turned to Tom and said, What is ever gained from war? I dont understand it. All I know is what is lost. Fathers, brothers, sons, husbands, not to mention the cost to both sides in money and collateral. In history, it was always a power thing, the king or emperor wanted a bigger piece of the land so he sent his soldiers in to beat the locals into surrender and then made himself the boss of them. Then there are the holy wars, the commandment says thou shalt not kill, but its all right to do so if you believe in a different god to mine. As for our last war, if you ask a hundred people, German or English, what was it all about, ninety per cent would not really know. Inga suddenly stopped, as if she had realised she was becoming too emotional. Tom thought about what she had said. In many ways, he agreed with her. So you are a pacifist? he said. Very much so, but to get back to why I came to England, it is because my country started the last war, and Great Britain came to the aid of the weaker side, so which is the better country, in your opinion? Tom shrugged his shoulders. He had never thought of it all like that before. He was interested in her philosophy, and realised in many ways it matched his own. He also saw war as a waste of lives, money, and buildings, all to no avail. There were no real winners. Inga told Tom that her English boss
had also lost a son in the war. She was indeed a pacifist and hated all violence. Why cant countries just let other countries live the way they want to? Inga sighed. Tom couldnt answer that one. He was impressed by her attitude. He had expected she might rationalise why Germany got into war with Britain, but she didnt seem to support her countrys past ethics at all. The other reason I came to England is because eventually I want to become a doctor. This country can give me this chance. It is very well-known for producing the best medical doctors. Tom nodded. It made sense she would want to be a doctor, to heal people rather than harm them. She is such a warm person, Tom thought, and so pretty. He felt very attracted to her. He had never felt like this before about a girl. She seemed to be on his mind day and night. He found himself wanting to be with her all the time. Inga was similarly attracted to this kind Englishman . Even though they were different nationalities, they were very alike. They both laughed at the same things, their family backgrounds were similar - they both came from working class families. Even their surnames were the same, his was Smith, and hers was the German version, Schmidt. Tom treated Inga very well. He would often take her a little posy of flowers when they met. Fortunately, they both had Sundays off and were able to spend the whole day together. From Monday to Friday, Tom worked long, hard hours as a motor mechanic. Sometimes, Inga was able to get an evening off once she had bathed and put the baby to bed, and his parents were home to care for him. They would go to the cinema, or sit in a bar somewhere and chat. Either way, they were just happy to be in each others company. Inga spoke very good English so they never had a problem communicating. One bitterly cold Saturday night that winter, Inga had managed to get the night off as the parents of her charge were
having a night at home. Inga decided she wanted to spend the evening at Toms place, a small bungalow on the edge of town. Tom lit a cosy fire before he went to meet her so when they returned it was nice and warm inside. On the table, he had placed a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. They sat close together on the settee, holding hands in front of the fire, listening to music on his crackly radio, and sipped their wine slowly and contentedly. You know, Inga, this is bliss. It is the first time I have had a girlfriend here, sitting quiet and warm by the fire. Its the same for me, Tom, Inga replied. I have only had one boyfriend before, and that was at school. It is lovely, isnt it? I feel so secure and warm sitting here with you. We must try to do it more often. Tom looked at her lovely face in the glow of the firelight. He so wanted to kiss her and hold her close. At first, he was hesitant, worried she might misconstrue any move he made as being too forward. Then he decided to try anyway. He leant closer until he was within an inch of her full, pouting lips. At that moment, Inga also moved forward until their lips touched. Just a peck at first, to break the ice, then a kiss. Then they kissed more passionately, and started to explore each other with their hands. They moved from the settee on to the floor. Before long, Tom had his hands at the top of Ingas stockinged thighs. He could feel the straps of her suspenders. As he gently caressed her warm skin, Inga breathed harder and made no attempt to push him away. Soon clothes were shed, and the two lovers were naked in front of the fire. They were oblivious to the sound of the radio, the crackle of the fire. All they could hear were each others breathing as they gently fondled one another. Inga raised her arms above her head, as if to surrender her whole body to Tom. Her legs parted slightly, and Tom kissed every part of her, until she was groaning deeply with pleasure, and her whole body began to shudder in ecstasy. I so want to make love to you, Inga, Tom murmured. He was so hard now it was beginning to become painful. Inga pushed him away from her a little so that she could look
directly into his eyes and said in a quiet, soft voice, Well then, why dont you? Tom needed no more encouragement. Their first time was over quickly. Later that night, they made love again, but it was slower and more satisfying for both of them. Tom and Ingas relationship became very serious. They made love whenever they had the chance to be together. Before long, Inga was pregnant. After three months Inga had already started to show. The family she worked for were unimpressed by her telltale bump, and Inga lost her job as their nanny. This was disappointing for Inga, as her position had included accommodation. Tom, on the other hand, saw it as an opportunity. He asked her to move into his place so they could be together all the time. Inga happily agreed and within two days, she was safely ensconced within Toms bungalow. As Tom had invited Inga to move in with him as his partner, he raised the subject of marriage. However, Inga was reluctant to take such a big step so soon. After all, their relationship was still new, and the pregnancy was unplanned. One evening, Inga asked Tom if they could speak about something important after work. They decided to go to their favourite local, Berts Pub for a drink and settled into a private nook in the corner. After getting them both a drink, Inga began. Tom, because of this lovely bump, I have been getting some funny looks from people. I found out the reason after asking a woman why she was looking at me strangely. She said it was because I am not wearing a wedding ring, but I am having a baby. Tom knew that many people in Britain still looked down on unmarried mothers. It meant they had had sex out of marriage and this was still frowned upon, particularly by the older generations. It upset me a little bit, Tom. I worry that if everybody thinks like that, will they be horrible to our baby as well when its born? Will they be horrible to you? Inga asked.
What we do is our business, Inga, but if it makes you feel better, then by all means I will buy you a ring to wear. I personally believe people should look at their own lives before judging others. Nobody is whiter than snow, Inga, so sod them. Dont let it upset you. We were unlucky that you fell pregnant so quickly. Some people cant have a baby even when they want to. Others get pregnant and rush into a loveless marriage just to save their reputation. There again, my love, if you want to get married, then now would seem a good time, before you get too far along. Weve talked about it before, Tom. Neither of us saw the need for it yet. I am happy to wait if you are. Tom and Inga had twice had the conversation about marriage and both times, they agreed it was not something they wanted to rush into. Now here they were at the hospital, with Inga about to give birth to their second child, and they were still not married. Tom was still half immersed in his thoughts about the past when he suddenly realised a young nurse was standing in front of him. Mr Smith? Are you Mr Smith? Tom looked up at the nurse; her expression was serious. Yes, yes, of course I am. Whats the matter? Is she all right? Tom was anxious, as it had taken so long. Yes, of course she is, sir. Would you like to come in and see your new baby? Tom quickly stood up, Oh, yes! Please take me to them! This way, sir, the nurse said, now smiling. She showed Tom into a small four-bedded ward. There was Inga, looking flushed and tired, but beautiful. In her arms wrapped tightly in a blue blanket was a tiny, fair-haired baby boy. Tom looked at the baby, but was hesitant to touch him; he seemed so delicate and small. He bent over, kissed him very gently on his forehead, and then kissed Inga. He felt tears of happiness sting his eyes; he was speechless with the joy and love he felt. Tom and Inga had named their first son Michael after Toms father, who had been killed in France in the First World War. Inga smiled.
Tom, meet Franz. I hope you like the name. I named him after my father, who was killed in the war just as your father was. Tom had no objections at all. He was now the proud father of two boys. How wonderful. He couldnt stop smiling. A few days later, Inga returned home with baby Franz and introduced him to his older brother, Michael, who was only ten months old. Michael just looked bewildered, wondering whether this wriggling bundle before him was a new toy. The family were living in Toms small bungalow in the hills above Portsmouth. It only had two bedrooms, but it served their needs. Tom had bought it when he first came to Portsmouth. They had no immediate neighbours but other people lived further down the street. All of the houses were detached with a large back garden and a smaller front one. Tom enjoyed gardening and grew many vegetables, which helped their budget a lot. When he had been on his own, his income as a mechanic was sufficient to pay the mortgage, buy food, and he could still afford some beers at the end of the week. Now, with four mouths to feed, things were beginning to get tight. His wages just about kept the familys heads above water. Tom and Inga were so busy raising their boys that the months flew by. Before they knew it, Franz was about to turn two. Money was very tight and there was little to spare for treats and certainly not enough for a holiday. The family rarely went out with the exception of the odd walk along the downs. Although Tom was working every available hour he could, there was still no money to spare. Inga became bored with only two very young children for company. When Tom came home, he wolfed down his dinner and was too tired to even talk. He would promptly fall asleep in his favourite armchair. Tom was even too tired when Inga tried to make love to him. Their sex life was almost non-existent and certainly not passionate any more. The truth was, the drudgery of daily life and lack of money had taken its toll. Tom and Inga had grown apart. Ingas life was the house, her sons, and Tom; Toms life was work, his
sons, and Inga. After three years, domestic bliss was quickly turning sour. They argued often, mainly about money. Tom was already working as many hours as the company could give him, and Inga couldnt get a job because the boys were still too young. Tom suggested that as the boys had her all day; she could get an evening job in a factory or somewhere. Inga thought about it, and eventually decided to get a job. She started working as a cleaner, but it was poorly paid and she also had to suffer abuse from other workers because of her nationality, so she soon gave up. By now, Tom and Ingas arguing had become more vitriolic. They would row loudly, spitting out words laced with hatred until, unable to agree on any matter, they could argue no more. This was followed by an awkward, frosty silence that often lasted days. Michael and Franz were completely unaware anything was wrong because the arguing had gone on for most of their young lives. To them, it was the normal routine. Eventually, Tom realised he had to do something about this unhappy existence. He was coming home from work later and later, not wanting to walk into yet another row with Inga. He began to think about the possibility of ending it with her. It took some time for him to work it out in his mind before he could proceed with the idea. One cold wintry night once their sons were asleep, Tom decided it was time to approach Inga. She made some cocoa, which Tom sipped slowly. He was deep in thought how to approach the subject. Once Inga was sitting with him, he began to talk, as softly and sensitively as he could, fearing another row would start. Darling, there is something that has been bothering me for the last three or four months. Our relationship, its... He paused to allow Inga to get in tune with what he was trying to say. After placing another log on the fire, he continued. I think our relationship has deteriorated so much, its time for us to do something about it. Tom paused again, looking for a response of some kind from Inga. She said nothing; even her face was expressionless as she looked at him.
If it has got this bad in just three years, what it will be like in five, Inga? I imagine we would hate each other even more, then I might start looking at other women, you might start looking at other men. I for one do not want to travel down that road, more so for the childrens sake. I dont want them to have to experience that, do you? Inga sat dry eyed, staring into the flames of the fire. Her elbows were on her knees and her chin lay in her cupped hands. She understood what Tom was saying; she felt the same way. During the last few months, she wanted to broach the subject with Tom, but just could not bring herself around to it. Tom waited for a response from Inga. She sat in silence for a while to let his words sink in, and then she whispered, So what do you think we should do, Tom? Tom replied, I think we need to split up. I think it would be the best for the boys as well as us. Again, he looked for a reaction but Inga just stared at the floor. Because we arent married, we can agree everything verbally without any lawyers or paperwork, which we cant afford anyway. Inga sat up straight. She realised he was serious; he really meant what he was saying and he expected a response. Inga still said nothing, so Tom continued. Inga, weve been together for over three years, we have two lovely sons we both adore. Agreed? Finally, Inga spoke. Yes, of course, Inga replied. They are the only reason we are still together. If it wasnt for them, I would no longer be here. The resentment in her voice was barely disguised. Tom knew he would have to step carefully. All right, Inga, I dont want to fight with you. All I want is to get ourselves sorted out - to get things on an even keel as it were. She replied, Im not looking for a fight either, Tom. Ive been thinking the same thing myself for a long time now. Do you know what it has been like for me these past three years with two babies to bring up and not enough money to have anything? On top of that, you are always moaning and whining. Tell me, Tom, when was the last time we went out
together, just you and me? When was the last time you spent any money on me? There has never been any spare money available, Inga, Tom retorted. When was the last time I bought something new for myself? Lets not argue about money now, lets talk about everyones future, then we might get somewhere. Lets do it in an adult manner without squabbling over what should have been. What do you say to us separating? Inga was shocked at Toms forcefulness. She knew their relationship was bad, but had not thought about the possibility of splitting up. If we cant manage as a couple now, how do you think we could as two single parents with the two boys? Tom was ready for this question. He had thought long and hard about what the best solution would be. We each take one boy. You can return to Germany to your mother, and she can help you raise him. Oh! A trade-off? What the hell am I supposed to do in Germany on my own with a son? How am I supposed to choose which son? Inga was clearly upset at the proposition. You could get a job over there and earn enough for your mum to look after him. I will cut my hours to suit the other sons school days later on. It should work out better with only two mouths to feed on my income. I suppose I can see why you think this is a good idea; it would be better financially. But I want both my boys with me if I am going back to Germany. No, thats not going to happen. Tom stood his ground. I would rather carry on as we are than lose both children. Lets end this discussion for now so we can each have more time to think about it. Two days later, Inga finally came to accept Toms rationale. She understood that to lose both sons would be unbearable to both of them. That evening after supper, Inga told Tom what she had decided. Tom, I have given a lot of thought to what we talked about the other evening. I now realise it is probably the best idea. I have written to my mother and told her of our
intentions. We wont get a reply for at least two weeks of course, but Im sure it would be all right for me and Franz to move in with her. Since my father was killed, she has been very lonely. Having Franz and I to keep her company will be good for her. Wait, Tom interrupted, when did we agree which son we should keep? I thought I would take Franz; he is younger, and because he had a German name my fathers name it would be easier in the future for him. Also, he is only just learning to speak, so he will be able to pick up the language over there more easily than Michael. So lets be clear, if I agree to you taking Franz, you will go to join your mother in Berlin? Yes, Inga said quietly. It took two months and plenty of overtime for Tom to accumulate enough money to purchase two tickets for the cross-Channel boat to Germany. One evening after work, Tom went to purchase the tickets. That evening while the family were having dinner, he handed them to Inga. There was a short, awkward silence, and then Inga said, Well, I guess thats it, isnt it? After three years and two children, it all comes down to this. She looked miserably at the tickets in her hand. Look, Inga, neither of us is to blame. It just stopped working for us. We had such a fantastic time in the beginning, but you know as well as I do we have fallen out of love. Its as simple as that. Inga said nothing. The sadness on her face said it all. She looked at her two sons and tears welled in her eyes. It became too much to hold back, so she quickly excused herself and ran to the bathroom. Tom could hear her sobbing from the kitchen. The atmosphere in the house was very strained over the following two weeks. The evening before her departure, the boys were playing outside in the garden. Inga and Tom were sitting by the fire as usual, listening to music. Tom finally broke the awkward silence.
We must keep the communication channels open, Inga. I promise I will make sure I let you know how Michael is getting on. Once he is able to write, he can also send you a letter each week and tell you his news. The same for Franz. We might be parting ways, but theres no need for the boys to suffer too much, is there? No, oh no, definitely not. We must stay in touch and the boys should write to each other too. I will also write to you every now and again. Ingas reply lifted Toms spirits a little. You do know I wont be able to send you any money after you leave? There is not even enough now, but I have saved fifty pounds to help you along to begin with. You will have to get a job quite quickly though. He handed her an envelope with the cash in it and she just nodded thank you, as she was too choked with emotion to speak. What she did not know was that he had borrowed some of it from a work colleague and some from a friend. Eventually, she said, Thank you, Tom. I dont have any money to travel with; I was wondering how I was going to manage. Have you packed everything that you want to take? I hope youve left me the family silver, he said with a smile, trying to lighten the sombre mood. Inga managed a smile in return. Yes, I have packed that one silver spoon of yours and I will seek my fortune with it. Inga went outside into the garden to play ships with her two sons. The boys were so close in age they could almost be mistaken for twins, but Michael had dark hair and eyes like his father, and Franz was fair and blue-eyed, like his mother. They had a tub of water on the lawn and each had a small toy ship. They were splashing the ships about and sailing them all over the top of the water, thoroughly enjoying themselves. Inga joined in, thinking that this would probably be the last time they would ever play together as a family. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. Tom was watching from the kitchen window, and although he was having the same sad thoughts, he was a little more optimistic for all their futures.
The next morning, Tom had arranged to take half a day off work to see Inga and Franz set off on their long journey to Germany. First, they had to catch the train to Southampton, from where the ship would sail. Inga picked Michael up in her arms and carried him to the neighbour up the road who had minded him when she gave birth to Franz. Before handing him over, she hugged him so tightly he could barely breathe, and covered him in kisses. Her tears and kisses made his little face all wet. Goodbye, my darling little Michael. Take care of yourself and your daddy, Inga said quietly. Then she thanked her neighbour, saying that Tom would be back to collect the little boy at five thirty. She then turned abruptly and walked away without looking back, but as she heard the door close, her heart felt like it was cut in two. She took a deep breath and walked back to the bungalow. Right. All ready to go? Tom said, wise enough not to ask her if she was all right as he knew she wasnt. Tom had the cases by the door and Franz was ready with his coat on. Tom had given Franz two little toy ships to play with on the journey. The three of them walked to the bus stop for the half hour ride to the train station. Inga boarded the train first, and then Tom lifted Franz up into her arms. Inga lowered the window in the carriage and held Franz up so Tom could reach him to give his toddler son a kiss. Goodbye, my little Franz, he said. The lump in his throat made it hard for him to get the words out. Inga then placed Franz on the seat and leant out of the window to take one last look at Tom. I am so sorry it didnt work for us, Inga. Please dont think I hate you. I dont - you are the mother of our two wonderful sons and for that, I will always love you... Toms voice was drowned out by a sudden long, loud blast of the conductors whistle. All aboard! came the order, followed by the sound of carriage doors being slammed shut and people calling out to each other from the carriages and the platform. Then another
piercing whistle, couplings clanging together, and the train started to chug forward. Tom stood watching as it moved slowly along the platform. He waved at Inga and Franz as they leant out of the window and waved back. Franz was much too young to understand what was going on. Tom returned to work and finished at five oclock, hurrying off to pick up Michael from his neighbour. When he arrived home, he found a letter Inga had left for him. She wrote how sorry she was how things had turned out, and said that by the time Tom read the letter, she would be at sea with Franz. As a single parent, Tom now had to devote as much time as he could to Michael. Each week day, he dropped Michael off to his neighbour to mind him, and picked him up straight after work. On Saturdays, he sometimes managed to arrange for the boy to go to one of his friends homes for a small fee, to enable him to work a little overtime. In the beginning, Michael asked where his brother was every day. He missed his little playmate. Each time, Tom would just say, Youll see him again soon, feeling guilty for his lie. All of Toms spare time was spent with his son. On the odd occasion Tom managed to spare a little money, he would take Michael into Portsmouth, then on to Southsea, a nearby seaside resort. Michael enjoyed these little excursions to the seaside. Most of all he enjoyed watching the big Navy ships coming back and forth in the harbour. Boats seemed to fascinate Michael and Tom indulged in a dream that maybe one day his little boy would become a ships captain. Michael soon turned four years of age. Christmas had passed quietly with just the two of them. Nothing came from Inga in the way of a card. In fact, she had not been in touch since she and Franz had left. All he had was her goodbye letter. In some ways it did not surprise Tom; he knew in his heart that she would close her heart and her mind to them both, as she had done for the last six months. Michael often asked about mummy and Franz, and Tom could only say they had gone away for a while. As time passed, Michael asked about
them less and less; he had become accustomed to having Toms undivided attention. Michaels obsession with ships seemed to grow, even at such an early age. He would spend hours just leaning on their front fence, gazing down into the harbour below. He often asked his daddy to get the galvanised bathtub out and fill it with water so he could play boats with some different sized pieces of wood. Some had nails sticking out of the top, which in Michaels mind represented a funnel. He would emulate the ships he saw in the harbour, moving them around on the water making broom broom noises to represent the engines. Fortunately for Tom, Michael did not want the same toys other children wanted and was happy playing with his little wooden fleet, which was now all his own as he no longer had to share with his brother. Soon the day came for Michael to start big school. Tom managed to get Michael into a local infant school that had a good reputation. Fortunately for Tom, his neighbours children also attended there, so for two shillings a week they agreed to take Michael along to ensure he got there and back safely and he could play with them until Tom arrived home from work. This routine worked very well for the first six months, after which time Michael was able to manage the short walk to school and back on his own. Over the next five years, Michael excelled at his schoolwork, passing all his tests and exams with high marks. He was now ready to progress to primary grade. One day, a formal-looking letter arrived at Toms home. Somewhat surprised, Tom opened it and on a very nice piece of headed notepaper with a fancy crest at the top was a formal invitation for Tom to consider a scholarship for his son at a naval boarding school located near Ipswich in Suffolk. The letter also came with a brochure giving more information and included photographs of the school. He later found out that a teacher at Michaels school had a son who attended there, and noticing how bright Michael was, he had phoned the school and asked them to send the information to Tom.
Tom sat down with Michael to talk about it, and soon realised Michael was not opposed to the idea in any way. Once he saw the pictures of pupils in their sailor uniforms, he was convinced, even when Tom explained he would have to sleep there and stay there for many weeks at a time without seeing his father. This did not perplex Michael in any way. He was so keen on the idea, it made Tom wonder if he was happy at home, but Tom knew the attraction was the sailor uniform, and he could see many advantages of Michael going to boarding school. Tom had always considered that a child needed both parents around, not just one. At boarding school, on the other hand, he would be well cared for and Michael would receive a very good education. It also meant that Tom could get on with his life and his work without the encumbrance of having a young child to look after. By far the most attractive aspect for Tom was the knowledge that Michael would be mixing with boys his own age. Tom knew that if Michael stayed at home with him, he could become a spoiled only child, and might end up just finishing the required amount of schooling, then hang around Portsmouth getting a mundane job somewhere, just as he had done. This way, a world of opportunity would be open to him. Tom quickly completed the scholarship application forms and sent them off. A few weeks later, he received confirmation his son had a place. Every evening, Michael would ask his dad questions, mainly about the boarding school. Where would he sleep? What meals would they get and how often? Every day when he returned from school, there were more questions. He looked at the brochure over and over until it was almost worn out. There was a picture of pupils marching on parade, and some evenings he would practice marching around the garden. The new school year and time for the next intake were quickly approaching. Tom had received instructions regarding the handover and what his son needed to bring. He arranged a day off work for the trip to Ipswich to take Michael to his new school. The weekend before Michael was due to leave, they went into Portsmouth town to buy him some going away
clothes. Tom even treated himself to a new suit. He had also organised a going away party for Michael with six of his friends. Michael loved all the attention; it made him feel exceptionally important.
Chapter Two
The journey by steam train to Southampton was very enjoyable for Franz. He loved the huffing and puffing of the engine, and the sound of the whistle blowing every now and again. The train journey was not long; he stood all the way, looking out of the window, watching the passing fields with cows or sheep quietly grazing. After about three quarters of an hour, they reached Southampton. Once the train had come to a halt and the doors were flung open, a kindly porter helped Inga down on to the platform with her son and her two suitcases. Excuse me, porter, we have a ship to board that is sailing late this afternoon. Do you know where we must go now? Inga asked. Oh, that would be the Empress of Britain, maam. Its that ship over there, he said, pointing towards the only ship moored at the dock. He could see Inga was travelling alone with her luggage and her toddler son. If you come with me, I can take you via a shortcut across the tracks. That way it will save you quite a bit of walking rather than going the long way around. Is that all right? the porter asked. Oh, thank you so much, that would be a big help. I will carry my child if you can carry these two cases. Inga was relieved to have someone helping her. She was already feeling physically and emotionally drained from the farewells and their journey thus far. Inga gathered up Franz in her arms and they began to walk across the railway lines. She assumed the porter knew it was safe for them to cross here, although she couldnt help feel a little nervous in case a train should come flying along at any moment. She felt relieved when they stepped off the tracks and the porter indicated a white brick building just ahead of them. They walked over to it and the porter said, Here yer go, maam, this is the office of the shipping line you need to report to. He placed her cases down at the main entrance.