Journey to Southampton
As they turned onto the main road and headed up out of town, they could see the clouds, ever-darkening shades of grey. She wanted to be out earlier, but the boys were caught up with stores and packing. They were heading over from Southampton to France, and she hoped not directly to the Front. William, who was her age, sat next to her. They had become friendly over the last few weeks. He was young and handsome, full of energy and genuine friendliness. He also was good at football, and that didn’t hurt a young man’s popularity, she noted. The older Scot, Stewart, was charismatic, jovial, and quite respectful in his way. He enjoyed his pints; she knew that from conversation, and mentioned Robert Burns where he could.
Off in the distance, the flash and flicker of the solitary lighthouse seemed to carry along the shades of grey on the horizon.
“Could you imagine those poor buggers on that lighthouse that night?” William paused. “Prolly would’ve started off like this.” He gazed out towards the sea in the distance. Shirley nodded. Most people in the area knew the story of the first lighthouse and the Great Storm of 1703.
“Hope they had some sippers, would’ve been quite a winter’s night,” added Stewart.
The rain got worse. Shirley was confident in her driving, but as the sky darkened, the lights would glare and seemed to hinder more than help. She navigated that big truck through all the potholes and bumps, creating the smoothest line possible.
“Damn, you’re a good driver, Shirley!” Billy exclaimed in usual exuberance. She smiled.
His voice softened slightly. “I was keen enough to be away, but you’ve made the leaving harder, Shirley.”
Shirley smiled, nodded in agreement and turned slightly towards him, as every driver has their style; hers was acknowledging and sweet. She was born with an intelligent attractiveness and large inquisitive eyes.
“It’s bittersweet,” Shirley said. “These last few weeks have been lovely. I just wish taking your place didn’t mean seeing you off.” she paused. “Well, only for a couple more weeks, then I’m heading over too,” she hurriedly added.
“Sure, I told you off the bat; if not you, it’s someone else, and couldn’t have wished for better,” They smiled.
“I give ya that, lass, you can drive. I’d usually be feeling all the turns by now,” Stewart added.
William spun in his seat towards Stewart and chimed “No pints before we left may play a part, Stew,” They all laughed!.
Engine Maintenance
The road wound along, and after another hour or so the rain was not sprinkling over them as much, and the new adjustments made to the canopy were helping. Still, as the afternoon wore on, they were getting wetter and cooler. No one complained. The mood was jovial and everyone wanted to keep it that way, with an occasional joke, comment, or Stew humming some poem.
Another hour passed, and the lorry pushed along the coastal roads and byways. The occasional bump and slip kept them alert.
“Have they told you where in France you’re going?” Billy said, looking to Shirley.
“Not yet,” Shirley replied, thinking on. “It’s all very hush-hush, actually.” Shirley smiled and chuckled.
“Destinations usually are in this job,” Stew added.
“They’ll put you behind a desk, sure. A head for figures like yours.” William beamed.
“I hope so,” Shirley said. “Someone needs to keep account of you lot.”
After another hour on the road, the engine began an irregular rhythm. Shirley and William looked at each other, sighed, then Shirley started to giggle. They both laughed.
“Damn spark plugs in the rain,” William said. “Still can’t keep those dry.”
After about another half hour, the engine sputtered to a stop.
“Well, damn,” Shirley scoffed.
“I can stretch my legs and take a piss,” Stew said, unpopping the canvas side and stepping out. They all got out. It had stopped raining for the moment. They all stretched.
“Probably a loose cap has let some water in,” Shirley said as she started propping open the hood.
“I’ll find something dry to wipe it,” William added, and started looking around in the cab.
“Ahh, feels better. Can I help, luv?” Stew said towards Shirley, busy, head in the engine.
“You’re alright. Will and I have done this a few times.” She smiled at the situation.
“Alright,” Stew replied, grabbing another thick coat out of his kit. Taking off his wet new service coat, he pulled on the well-worn thick coat.
“At least it looks dry. That old thing needs replacing,” William said, looking out.
“Aye, lad, it’s been around.” He paused, reflecting. “My father and grandfather passed it down.”
“It’s become a good luck charm and seen us through.”
“The buttons all have their own story, which I’ve heard many times at the pub.” Stew paused again.
“It has fit us all perfect. I feel safer for it.”
William found a dry sock in his kit and brought it for Shirley. She grabbed it without a word and continued intently.
William walked over to the side of the road. It was later in the afternoon now; a soft muted light still reflected from the grey above.
William noticed something glint. It was a coin. He picked it up. It was covered in grime and caked-on dirt. He headed back to the truck, rubbing the cold coin between his fingers.
Shirley jumped down from the hood and pulled it down with a crunch. “I’m betting that’s got it, lads.”
William started cranking and they were back on the road again.
After another hour of rubbing that coin, William could just make out Hibernia, the Irish harp, and 1769.
“How about that!” he exclaimed, holding up the coin for both to see. “An old coin from my home, Ireland.”
“Interesting to find that on a road here. Must have some story,” Shirley added.
“It’s from 1769, so…” he stated, thinking.
“148 years, yes, that’s some time!” Shirley added, grinning.
“Looks like you found your good luck charm, lad, or it found you,” Stew added.
William returned it to his pocket but kept on occasionally rubbing it between his fingers.
The Final Stretch
They trundled on, the storm clouds following them up the coast. It had been quiet for a bit, and William and Stewart were lost in their thoughts. Shirley manoeuvred the large lorry with skill along the wet, uneven roads. The rhythm of the road sent her back a few years. She imagined home and her father still pushing to town on his horse and cart, exclaiming never will he get behind the wheel of one of those stinking machines. Herself, she enjoyed driving them and also understanding how they run.
They arrived at the Southampton docks later in the evening, and it was calm and quiet. They had won the race up the coast.
“Alright, this is as close as I can get ya,” Shirley stated.
Stewart stepped out and started taking off his coat and grabbing his kit out. William, also grabbing his pack, jumped out. He began to walk around to Shirley’s side.
Stew pulled out his newer coat, a small red book falling out onto the seat. He grabbed the book and wrapped it into the older coat and into his kit bag. You could tell these two objects meant a lot to Stewart.
Shirley looked at him and smiled. “Here, Stew, a present from my family. Stash it in there with your kit,” she said softly, handing him a carton of cigarettes.
Stewart lifted his eyes. “Ciggies,” and smiled. Shirley nodded. “Good to have out there.”
“Like gold, doll. Thank your family.”
“Stay safe and try to keep an eye on William while you can,” Shirley pleaded.
“I will at that, lass,” Stewart stated, shouldering his packed kit. “And you, hope they send ya somewhere dry and soft.” And with that he stepped to the side into the night.
William had come around to the driver’s side and started impatiently to remove the door flap.
Shirley looked down and giggled. She felt a nervousness that was new to her. She had never felt much for boys’ affections, as she was so intent on studies and her farm duties. This time with William had started to change that. There was something about the easy and comfortable feeling, a routine that felt right. On the other hand, the reality of the situation wouldn’t allow for that to grow, or even stay the same.
“Come on down here and give me a hug at least,” William exclaimed in his easy, boyish way.
She smiled nervously, opened the flap and bonked him on the head with a carton of cigarettes. “Here, take this,” she playfully chimed.
He looked surprised. “But…”
“I know,” Shirley interjected. “You can use it to trade and make some mates.” William smiled and nodded in thanks.
She jumped down and they hugged. It was a solid fit, and they both knew. They held awhile and, looking at each other, blushed.
“Here,” Shirley allowed, disengaging. She pulls an envelope from her pocket and hands it to William. “It has my home address in Wales.” Her eyes moistened. “If we lose track, you will come find me there after all this mess.”
They both smiled, and the energy rose as if it was a beginning, not the end. They hugged again; a peck on the cheek is all they could afford. Separating quickly, William and Stewart headed out further down the docks, lost to the night.
Shirley looked out at the dark silhouettes of the barges and sighed. Jumping back up into the cab of the lorry, she headed to complete her delivery.
The night fell in earnest, and the boats set out to sea.