nothing but the faint echoes of, ‘It’s a long way to go…’ that reached all the way back to the platform then dissipated into the air. As soon as all trace of the train was out of sight, she let the tears flow freely down her cheeks as she attempted to gather herself to adjust to life without the man she loved, and suddenly she felt incredibly lonely.
5
Julia brushed away the tears that blurred her vision as she crossed Westminster Bridge on her way to work. As she strode at a clip, she gave herself a stern talking-to. Lots of people were putting their husbands on trains. She had to pull herself together, be strong for her children, for Maggie and Tom, show a brave face. Besides, she had important war work to do.
Turning off Whitehall Road onto Whitehall Place, she crossed the street and entered the building on the corner. With its impressive Edwardian Baroque exterior and splendid restored rooms and stairways inside, it was a well-known and much-beloved London landmark. That, as well as being a palace at some time, with a history that extended back to the reign of Henry VIII. Even Cardinal Wolsey, the Lord Chancellor, and the Archbishop of York had used the London residence, which had formerly been called York Place. Now the outside of the old palace was a pitiful sight, with each entrance marked with the evidence of war: piles of cream-coloured sandbags stacked eighteen feet into the air.
Breezing swiftly through the entrance, she presented her pass to the soldier there on duty. As he nodded to her, she raced past him, her feet echoing across the floor. Inside, the white marble hallway was a magnificent spectacle, with its grand cream Grecian-style pillars and stone staircases ascending up through the building, but Julia had no time to admire the decor today; instead she sprinted up the stairs to her office on the first floor.
Since the beginning of the war she had been working in one of the typing pools.
It was her department’s job to document all of the artillery needed for the ground forces and her days were repetitive and predictable, which in many ways was a comfort to her. But not today, because as she dashed into the enormous room, with the dozens of rows of typists, she was taken aback to see quite clearly that her supervisor, Mrs Hathaway, was waiting by her desk.
Julia tried to muffle the echo of her high-heeled shoes on the wooden floor as she hurriedly tiptoed to reach her, speculating as to why she could be waiting there. She knew she’d informed her boss she’d be late today because she would be seeing John off, so the only other possible explanation would be that there was something wrong with her work.
As the woman who had been pacing in front of her desk turned to see Julia coming towards her, she let out a gasp of relief. ‘Oh, Julia, I wonder if you could step into my office for a moment. There’s something I need to talk to you about.’
Attempting to catch her breath, Julia followed behind her supervisor, snaking through the long line of desks. Feeling uncomfortably warm, and sensing a trickle of perspiration forming under the brim of her new hat, she averted her gaze from the many curious expressions she sensed all around her. It was as though the whole typing pool paused to watch this unusual occurrence, the two of them parading back to the office at the very end of the room. Julia tried to wrack her brain about all the work she’d finished the day before. Never had her supervisor called her into her office. Mrs Hathaway usually handed out packages of work to them at their desks. As she turned to shut the door, Julia’s eyes swept across the room, noting the many raised eyebrows and open-mouthed stares that had followed her inside.
‘Take a seat, please, Julia,’ Mrs Hathaway encouraged, her pleasant, professional tone not giving away anything.
Still, Julia rushed into a long flowing excuse for why she was late. ‘I am so sorry I wasn’t here on time, I had to see John off today, you see.’
For a moment the woman looked puzzled and then shook her head. ‘Yes, yes. I remember you telling me yesterday. It’s not about that.’
Julia sat down with a sense of dread. This must be about her work. Her mind had been so full of John leaving and her children being left fatherless