Beyond a Misty Shore

by Lyn Andrews

Genres: Sagas

Synopsis

The compelling novel from the Sunday Times bestselling author of TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH

It is 1945 and the war is finally over. For sisters Sophie and Maria, though, the upheaval is just beginning. For they have no choice but to leave their beloved home on the Isle of Man. It is a huge wrench for eighteen-year-old Maria, who can't forget Hans Bonhoeffer, a young Austrian, interned on the island during the war. For widowed Sophie, Liverpool offers a new beginning with her daughter Bella. She has no room for distractions - until she falls in love with Frank Ryan, a man married to a woman who, although she doesn't love him, has no intention of letting him go. Without the men they love, will the sisters ever find happiness?

Release date: December 8, 2011

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 267

Sample

Peel, Isle of Man, May 1945

‘IT’S OVER, LUV, IT’S finally over.’ Sarah Kinnin’s voice was low and hoarse with the emotions she was trying hard to control. Dressed for work in a dark grey skirt covered by a coarse but serviceable calico apron, a paisley print blouse and with her greying hair taken back into a neat bun, she had come straight from home to find her elder daughter. The auctioning of the day’s catch was due to begin in an hour and she, as auctioneer, would have to discuss prices with the fishermen and then mark everything down in her book before she started the auction, but she had an idea that they would be very late in beginning today. She had known where Sophie would be, where she always came in the morning after she had seen her five-year-old daughter Bella into school. She would be down by the little harbour sheltered from the prevailing winds and weather by the grassy bulk of St Patrick’s Isle.

Sophie never lingered at the school gate gossiping with the other young mothers, preferring to spend some time alone with her thoughts and memories. Bella always went off happily with her friends; she enjoyed school. But Sarah wondered if the children would all soon be sent home. They would be bursting with excitement at the news that was spreading like wildfire across the island – relayed by those who were fortunate enough to have a wireless set – and was now being heralded also by the church bells. Bells that had been silent for six long years. The war in Europe was finally and officially over. Germany had surrendered.

Sarah reached out and put her arms around the girl’s shoulders and felt them shaking. ‘Hush, luv. Hush now,’ she soothed, but her own eyes were bright with unshed tears.

Sophie turned towards her and Sarah felt a stab of anguish as she looked into the brown eyes, which were full of pain and brimming with tears. Both her girls were attractive with dark eyes fringed with sooty lashes and the thick dark brown hair that denoted their Manx heritage, but at only twenty-four Sophie was a widow.

‘Oh, Mam! Is it true?’ Sophie asked, a sob in her voice.

Sarah managed a sad smile. ‘That’s why the bells are ringing, luv. Mr Churchill announced it on the wireless this hour past.’

Sophie nodded slowly, but then began to shake her head. ‘Was it worth it, Mam? Was it all really worth it? Poor Pa lost off North Africa and . . . and my Andrew and . . . and all the other lads who left the island to fight . . . and my poor Bella left . . .’ She couldn’t go on.

Sarah gathered her daughter into her arms. ‘I’ve been asking myself that same thing, luv, and the answer has to be “yes, it was”. That evil man and his armies had to be stopped. There was nothing else we could do except fight for our freedom and our way of life.’ She stared across the calm waters of Peel’s harbour shimmering in the May sunlight, where the moored fishing boats bobbed gently up and down on the incoming tide. Both her husband and Andrew Teare, Sophie’s husband, had been fishermen. John Kinnin had drowned when the Tynwald had been sunk and Andrew’s boat had been dragged by its nets to the bottom of the Irish Sea by a U-boat three years ago. The entire crew had perished. Both she and Sophie had suffered devastating blows but at least she and John had had far longer together than Andrew and Sophie, she thought sadly.

As she tried to soothe her distraught daughter her gaze wandered across to the wide swathe of strand where the waves broke gently against the shore. Every beach, inlet and cliff top was festooned with barbed wire. Their little island was surrounded by a ring of cruel iron. All along the pretty leafy lanes that meandered through the glens and hills and villages signposts and names had been removed. Ugly concrete pillboxes had been built to house the guns that would have helped protect them from invasion, but despoiled the majestic coastline. Yet the blight of the paraphernalia of war was a small price to pay; they had not suffered the fate of the people of the Channel Islands, thank God.

Sophie was trying hard to control the emotions that were sweeping over her as she clung to her mother, knowing that she too had suffered the terrible grief of losing her husband and knowing too, deep in her heart, that Sarah was right. The evil that had swept across Europe had had to be stopped no matter what the cost and today neither she nor her mother would be alone in their grief.

‘Come on, Sophie, luv. Pull yourself together. We’ve got to try to put it all behind us and think of the future, not the past. You have to think of Bella now,’ Sarah urged.

Sophie dashed away her tears with the back of her hand. She had to make an effort for her daughter. It would upset and confuse the child to see her like this. ‘I know, Mam.’ She looked around. ‘I suppose they’ll send them all home from school now.’

Sarah smiled. ‘I expect they will give them the rest of the day off. They’ll be too excited to concentrate on lessons. People are already talking about organising parties to celebrate.’

Sophie squared her slim shoulders and tucked her arm through Sarah’s. ‘You’re right, Mam – whatever we are feeling, we can’t spoil today for Bella.’

Sarah nodded her agreement. ‘Maybe Maria will bake one of her special cakes for us when she gets home. I’m sure I’ve got enough ingredients.’

A look of concern crossed Sophie’s face as she wondered how her younger sister would take the news. Maria was a Land Girl and worked on the Sayles’ farm, a seven-day-a-week job. She would have heard of the end of hostilities by now too for the Sayles had a wireless, and of course she would have heard the bells. She also knew of her sister’s growing affection for Hans Bonhoeffer, a young Austrian internee from the Peveril Camp, who also worked for the Sayles. ‘Mam, what will happen now to all the people in the camps?’ she asked tentatively as they made their way up the narrow cobbled street lined with fishermen’s cottages.

Sarah frowned. ‘I don’t know, luv. I suppose they’ll be sent back to wherever it is they came from in the first place. It’s all over now so they’re no longer a threat, although from what we’ve seen and heard most of them weren’t much of a threat to begin with. Except of course the few real prisoners of war and I expect even they will be glad to go home to their families.’

Sophie nodded; it made sense. This tiny island couldn’t support the numbers of internees indefinitely. There was very little work for the Manx people themselves and she began to wonder what both she and her sister would do now, for obviously the Women’s Land Army would be disbanded. She hadn’t officially been a part of it but she had helped out at Sayles’ whenever she could, and she had done other jobs too to support both herself and Bella. Sarah couldn’t keep them all; with Pa dead she only had the small income from her work as an auctioneer, selling off the catches the fishing fleet brought back. Sophie sighed inwardly. There really didn’t seem to be very much to celebrate at all today but she had to keep her spirits up for Bella’s sake.

Maria had twisted her thick dark curly hair up into a knot beneath the turban she wore. The sun was now high in the sky and although it was only May the weather for the past two weeks had been very warm, and swinging the scythe as she helped cut the meadow grass for hay was hard work. Beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead and she grimaced. She must look very unappealing and unattractive, she thought, glancing across to where the tall, lithe figure of Hans worked seemingly effortlessly. He grinned at her and she smiled back, her heart skipping a beat as it always did. He was so handsome: his blond hair lightened by the sun; his skin tanned by working outdoors in all weathers; his eyes as deep a blue as the sea. She had liked him from the first moment she’d met him, the day he’d come with two other young men from the camp to work on the farm some miles inland from Peel. He’d been a little shy with her at first but she’d put that down to the fact that he felt very unsure of his position.

As the days had turned to weeks she’d got to know him better and he had relaxed more in her company; eventually they’d become friends. That friendship had blossomed into affection and now she was certain that she had fallen in love with him. She blushed slightly as she remembered the day a week ago when they’d found themselves alone in the barn. He’d taken her in his arms and kissed her and told her he had never felt so deeply about anyone before.

‘I know now what is in my heart. I love you, my Maria. I will love you for ever.’

She had clung tightly to him and had murmured ‘I love you too, Hans, and we’ll find a way to be together when . . . when all this is over.’

Now he called across to her: ‘Don’t worry, Maria, soon it will be time for us to eat and then you can rest.’ He knew working on the land was hard for a girl and especially for one as slim as her.

‘Thank goodness, my arms and shoulders feel as if they’re on fire and I must look such a fright,’ she called back, looking forward to sitting close to him under the shade of one of the trees that bounded the field as they ate whatever Maude Sayle would provide for lunch. They always chose to sit apart from the other workers because he had to return to the camp each night which meant they could only see each other during working hours. Their breaks were the only real time they had alone, apart from the odd snatched moments in a barn or the shippen.

‘You never look “a fright”, as you say it. To me you are always beautiful, Maria.’

She was about to ask him laughingly how anyone could look ‘beautiful’ in the uniform of the Land Army – boots, overalls and turban – when she caught sight of the small, stout figure of Maude Sayle hurrying across the field towards them, waving her arms wildly in the air. ‘What on earth is wrong with her? It’s not dinnertime yet and why is she running?’

Hans looked concerned. ‘Perhaps something is wrong for Mr Sayle.’

They both dropped their scythes and started to run towards the farmer’s wife but then Maria stopped dead and looked around in alarm. ‘Oh, my God! Hans! Hans, listen! Bells! Church bells!’

Instantly he was by her side, his arm protectively around her. ‘What is it? What is it that is happening?’

She clutched his arm tightly, upset and confused. ‘I don’t know. They are only supposed to ring the bells to warn us that . . . but it can’t be, not now! The war is nearly over, Hans, we can’t be being invaded!’

Maude had reached the little cluster of workers but was fighting for her breath.

‘Mrs Sayle, what’s wrong? Is it the invasion?’ Maria cried, still clinging to Hans.

‘No! No . . . it’s . . . it’s over! Let me get my breath, girl,’ Maude puffed, holding her side, her round face flushed. ‘We’ve just heard it on the wireless and I ran to tell you all. It’s over! The war is over in Europe – they’ve surrendered!’

Maria threw her arms around Hans’s neck and began to laugh with pure relief. For a few horrible moments she had thought the invasion that had threatened them for six years had come.

Hans hugged her and felt a wave of relief surge through him. Now they no longer had anything to fear from Herr Hitler and his murdering hordes.

Maude beamed at them all. ‘Come on back to the house with me, all of you. This calls for a drink to celebrate, even though it’s a working day.’

With his arm still around Maria Hans led the little group across the field toward the farmhouse as Maude brought up the rear, still puffing a little from her unaccustomed exertions.

Edward Sayle was waiting in the kitchen, his weather-beaten face wreathed for once in smiles, a bottle of whisky and another of sherry already on the table.

‘Come on in, all of you! Isn’t it the best news of all? It’s finally over, we’ve nothing more to worry about,’ he cried, pouring generous measures for everyone.

He raised his glass. ‘A toast! To peace and to freedom!’

The unaccustomed spirits burned the back of Hans’s throat and he spluttered. Maria laughed and banged him on the back, caught up in the euphoria of the moment.

Maude smiled at them. They made a handsome couple, she thought. He was a decent lad who worked hard and she’d known Maria all her life; Sarah had been a childhood friend. She’d watched their growing closeness and had wondered if it would last but now a thought suddenly struck her. What implications did this news have for them? In time he and his family would be sent back to Austria from where they’d fled the Nazi advance; would the girl go with him? She doubted it for Maria Kinnin, like so many other people she knew, had never been off the island in her entire life. Her mother Sarah probably wouldn’t allow her to go. Perhaps being parted would be for the best anyway, she mused, sipping her sherry slowly, but it was not really her concern. Let them have these few hours of happiness for who knew what the future held for them – for any of them.

When at last the celebrations had died down life began to get back to what passed for normal. The authorities started dismantling the coastal defences and closing the camps, and Sophie began to think hard about the future. There was still a little work for her at Sayles’ for the summer months were always busy but she knew that once the harvest was in she could expect little more, and neither could Maria. Sophie was good at dressmaking but there was very little call here for her skills. There were professional seamstresses in both Peel and Ramsey and good shops in Douglas. Apart from housework there was little else she could do; the days when the women of Peel and the surrounding areas worked in their dozens gutting and salting the herrings were firmly in the past. Before the war Douglas, Port Erin and Port St Mary had always been crowded in summer with holidaymakers and no doubt they would soon return, but not many had come to Peel, so there was no work to be found in hotels and guest houses, of which there were few anyway.

She decided to discuss the matter with her mother one evening in September, the day after they had found out that Hans and his family were to be repatriated to their country of origin the following week, news that had upset Maria terribly. She was still upstairs, lying on her bed sobbing.

‘Oh, Mam, I feel so sorry for her. She really is very fond of him and she says he is heart-broken too,’ Sophie said as she sat down opposite Sarah at the table.

‘I know, but she has known for a while that the time would come when he’d have to leave. He’s no choice, times are still very . . . troubled. She’s very young, she’s only just turned eighteen; she’ll get over him and find someone else. But I, too, hate to see her so upset.’

Sophie twisted her hands together. ‘Mam, what’s going to happen to us all? Maria, Bella and me? There’s no work and without that there’s no hope of a decent future. I . . . I’ve been worrying about it for a while now. I’d like to be a dressmaker – professionally, that is – it’s the only thing I’m good at but it would take time and money to get started up . . .’ Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.

Sarah put down the knife she’d been using to peel the vegetables and pushed the bowl to one side. She could see how anxious Sophie was. She sighed heavily. It was a dilemma that many families had faced and would continue to face and there was only one solution to this problem. ‘Your only chance of making that dream come true is to leave the island, Sophie. Oh, it was something I never thought I’d have to deal with, my children having to leave to find work. Both your pa and Andrew had steady work – it didn’t pay a great deal though we managed – but . . . but . . . the good Lord decided to take them and we have to carry on living as best we can. We both have to think of Bella’s future too.’

Sophie nodded slowly. It was a decision she had been seriously considering. She would have to make a new life for herself and her child, away from the island. ‘Where can I go, Mam?’

‘Across to Liverpool, luv. That’s the logical place. I know they’ve taken a terrible battering over there these last years but things will be starting to get better now, you’ll find work and I’m sure your Uncle Jim and Aunty Lizzie will be happy to have you stay with them until you get on your feet. He is my older brother, after all.’

Sophie nodded her agreement. ‘I’d be grateful. Will you write to them, Mam, please?’ She reached across the table and clasped Sarah’s hand tightly. ‘I don’t really want to have to go, Mam. I’ll miss you terribly, but . . . but . . .’

Sarah smiled ruefully. ‘But there is nothing else you can do, Sophie. You are still a young woman, you have to make a new life for yourself. There are too many painful memories here, luv. Every time you go down to the harbour or walk along the quay you’ll be remembering that day. The day he didn’t come back. No, in some ways it’s the best thing you can do.’ She paused, frowing. ‘I think it might be a good idea if you take Maria with you. She’ll find it hard to get work and once that lad has gone she’ll be as miserable as sin. A fresh start would benefit her too. She’ll meet new people, make new friends, maybe even find a lad to replace Hans Bonhoeffer in her affections.’

‘Mam! Both of us and Bella? You’ll be here alone! I can’t leave you on your own!’ Sophie cried.

‘I won’t be on my own. I was born here, I grew up here, I know everyone. I have friends. Isn’t Andrew’s mam, Fenella Teare, one of my closest friends? I have my work, too. Wouldn’t I be a very selfish woman to force you to stay here just to keep me company? No, Sophie, I want you both to go to Jim and Lizzie and make a new life for yourselves, and Liverpool isn’t that far away – just a couple of hours by ferry. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll write in the morning.’

Sophie reluctantly nodded her agreement. Mam did have many friends, her widowed mother-in-law amongst them, and Liverpool wasn’t that far away but to people such as her mam, Maria and herself, who had never been off the island before, it seemed like a great distance and not just in miles.

‘I’ll have to break the news to Bella and then try to scrape together as much money as I can for our fares and to pay my way until I get a job.’

Sarah picked up the paring knife again. ‘I’ll try to help out too, luv. It will be for the best.’

Sophie smiled. ‘All we have to do now is convince Maria and I don’t think that’s going to be easy. Perhaps we should wait until Hans Bonhoeffer and his family have left.’

Sarah nodded and resumed her task. She knew in her heart that she was doing the right thing for her girls, but she could not help feeling more than a little depressed and bereft already.



‘IN THE NAME OF heaven, Sophie, what have you brought us to?’ Maria Kinnin’s dark eyes were full of shock and disbelief as she stared through the murky October morning at the sight that was gradually becoming clearer the closer the Isle of Man Steam Packet ship, the Lady of Man, drew to the Liverpool Landing Stage. A thin veil of mist hung over the turgid waters of the Mersey and the ships they had passed had left wakes that resembled ribbons of dull, mottled pewter. There wasn’t a breath of wind, the surface of the river was flat and the sky above was a uniform mass of gunmetal cloud.

She had come up on deck with her elder sister when they had passed the lighthouse on Perch Rock, eager to catch her first sight of the city that was to be her new home. Now that sight filled her with utter dismay. Was this what she’d left Peel for, she thought desperately? She’d been persuaded to give up all her hopes and dreams to come here; her ma and Sophie had said it would be a fresh start, a new life full of great opportunities and excitement but the scene of total devastation that met her eyes offered little prospect of either. They’d come on a wild-goose chase, she thought bitterly.

Sophie clutched her little daughter’s hand tightly and shook her head in horror at the sight that met her eyes. The three majestic buildings that graced the waterfront were intact, although blackened over the decades by the soot from thousands of chimneys, both industrial and domestic, but beyond them was a total wasteland of rubble and burned-out buildings. St Nicholas’s Church – the sailors’ church her pa had called it – was a pile of broken, scorched stones and charred beams; only its blackened spire still stood. In what had been Derby Square, only the statue of Queen Victoria was untouched, that monarch surveying the destruction that surrounded her with characteristic grim disapproval on her granite features. Sophie felt her shoulders sag as bitter disappointment washed over her. Oh, they’d heard how badly Liverpool had suffered in the terrible, week-long blitz of May 1941. Even far away on the island they’d heard the dull roar of the explosions and they’d seen the night sky glowing eerily red from the thousands of burning buildings. But she’d never expected the reality to be as bad as this!

‘Are we nearly there, Mam? I’m cold and I’m hungry.’ Sophie dragged her stunned gaze away from the ruined city and looked down at Bella. Her daughter was so like her father Andrew that tears pricked her eyes. Wearily she brushed a strand of Bella’s dark brown hair away from her cheek and with an effort forced herself to smile. ‘Not long now. We’ll soon be sitting in Aunty Lizzie’s nice warm kitchen having our breakfast.’

‘That’s if Aunty Lizzie still has got a kitchen!’ Maria said grimly, unable to conceal her feelings. She too was cold, tired, hungry and now utterly dispirited. The salty air was making her long dark hair curl frizzily. Her knitted red tamo’-shanter did little to protect it from the dampness in the morning air. She always took great pride in her appearance, even though most of her clothes were either hand-me-downs or had been made by Sophie. She spent hours trying to tame her thick unruly hair, even though her mam told her it was her ‘crowning glory’ and she shouldn’t complain about it so much. Sophie’s hair was just as thick but it was poker straight, which she considered very unfair considering that they both took after Sarah, whose own hair had once been as dark and straight as Sophie’s but was now grey and worn in a neat bun. Maria was missing her mother already for she’d never been away from home before. ‘Aunty Lizzie may not have a roof over her head at all.’

‘You could be right there, girl,’ agreed a small, plump woman standing beside them. She wore a black coat and a grey felt hat jammed tightly over short salt and pepper hair, and from her accent Maria realised she was Liverpudlian.

She turned to the woman, frowning. ‘Oh, don’t say that! Isn’t it bad enough that we’ve come on this fool of a journey without having to find we now have nowhere to live?’

The woman bristled with indignation. ‘You should ’ave been here during the Blitz, girl! There were thousands of people left without a ’ome, left with nothing but the clothes they stood up in but grateful they still ’ad their lives. Youse lot had it soft over there. I’ve been to see me sister-in-law so I know. Youse never ’ad bombs raining down on yer night after night while yer were packed like sardines in the public air-raid shelter and terrified out of yer wits. And there’s still ’undreds without ’omes of their own, even though it’s all over now.’

Sophie glared at the woman, her dark eyes filled with grief and anger. ‘Don’t you dare say we had it soft on the island, missus! My poor pa risked his life to keep fish on your tables and then he went down with the Tynwald off North Africa. And I’m a widow! A widow at twenty-four and with this child to bring up alone. My husband’s boat was dragged by its nets to the bottom of the sea by a U-boat! The whole crew drowned!’

‘And your government dumped all those foreigners on us. We had internment and POW camps!’ Maria added, although there was a note of sadness in her voice.

Mollified, the woman nodded. ‘I know and I’m sorry for yer loss, girl. Where is it you two’re hoping to stay?’

Maria fished out the scrap of paper from her coat pocket. ‘Sixteen Harebell Street,’ she informed their travelling companion.

‘That’s near Stanley ’ospital, it’s Bootle,’ the woman informed them, then, pausing, she frowned. ‘Bootle ’ad it bad but I don’t think them “flower” streets were hit. Not bad ’ouses either from what I’ve ’eard.’

Both Maria and Sophie were very relieved to hear this.

‘Is it far from the Landing Stage?’ Sophie enquired. Bella was now shivering and clutching her old rag doll tightly to her.

‘Well, it’s too far to walk, I know that. You’ll ’ave to get a tram from the Pier ’ead, it’s the terminus so just ask one of the conductors or drivers which tram to get. Tell them where yer want to get off too.’

The deck was now crowded with people and Maria increased her grip on her small suitcase as the ship came alongside, shuddering as it hit the huge rubber tyres attached to the side of the stage that acted as fenders, throwing everyone off balance.

‘We’ll be crushed to death before we even get near the gangway at this rate!’ she cried.

Sophie bit her lip, realising her sister was right and terrified that Bella would be separated from her. She might even fall and be trampled in the rush for the gangway. ‘See if you can catch the eye of one of those deck hands and ask for help. I’ll have to keep hold of Bella and our luggage.’

Bella was shivering with cold and fright, terrified by the unfamiliar noises and the press of people who all seemed to tower above her. She had never been away from Peel in her life before. ‘Mam, don’t leave me! I don’t like it here, I want to go home! I want to go back to Granny Sarah!’ Her big blue eyes filled with tears and she hugged her doll to her as she clung to Sophie, burying her face in the folds of her mother’s skirt.

Sophie drew her closer. ‘Hush now, it’s all right. Mam’s not going to let anything happen to you and we’ll soon be off this ship and in Aunty Lizzie’s house.’

Maria had no trouble at all in attracting attention. She had been considered one of the prettiest girls in Peel. A good-looking young lad, wearing a thick woollen jumper emblazoned across the chest with the Three Legs of Man, pushed his way towards her, smiling broadly.

‘Why did I never meet you strolling along the Lock Promenade in Douglas?’ he asked, admiration evident in both his eyes and voice.

‘Because I come from Peel and why would I be bothered going. . .