one above and one below by trevor john towers

8/11/2019 One Above and One Below by Trevor John Towers

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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; hisexperiences 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


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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 bereproduced, 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 thispublication 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 WharfLondonE14 5LB

Printed and bound in Great Britain


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Chapter OnePortsmouth, 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 ofEngland.

As midwives, nurses, and the occasional doctor busiedthemselves with their daily task of bringing new life into theworld, a number of first-time fathers anxiously paced up and

down the corridor outside the delivery ward. One man satreading 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. Hewas a local man in his late twenties, exactly six foot tall, with

straight brown hair. Tom glanced furtively at the other menpacing 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: thenerves, 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 meagreearnings 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 frowningmomentarily to return the smile.

You seem to be calm, mate. Is this your first as well? heasked Tom.

No, Tom replied, its my second. The first one was aboy; 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,


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doesnt it? I guess I feel so helpless - you always think that youcould be the unlucky one, dont you?

Stop worrying, pal, itll be all right. Normally if there arecomplications, 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 beenborn, in the exact same hospital and ward on the 4

thof January.

Now here he was again on the 19th 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 cameout of the delivery room, he asked if Inga had delivered yet.

He was concerned at the length of time he had left theirfirstborn with the neighbour. Only for a short while, he had

told them - that was four hours ago, when Ingas pains hadstarted 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 afriendly neighbour who lived just up the road and had a car.

Luckily, the neighbours were home having lunch when Tomcame 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 hiswife as she took the baby, and they drove back to Toms. Inga

was waiting by the front gate with her packed holdall. Sheclimbed 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; shehad been collected by a couple of nurses. He made his own

way there by following the signs. After checking that she wasall right, he sat down to wait. Twice he got up to ask how she


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was doing. Twice he was told everything was all right and notto worry, it wouldnt be long now.

Tom sat quietly and started to daydream, thinking abouthis 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, whereTom 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 afew 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 Tomsfeet, the next he had bolted off after something. Obviously, this

time he had gone too far and become lost. Tom and Inga spenta couple of hours searching for Rusty, to no avail. Eventually

Inga had to return with the baby for feeding time. Tom spentanother 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, thearea 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 keenon 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 theambulances. He blamed them for all the blood and gore he had

seen, although later on he came to accept that Britain had donejust as much damage to the Boche.


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Inga smiled knowingly, as if she had been expecting hisquestion. She replied, I know all about the war, Tom; it took

my father away from us. He died needlessly. War is stupidInga 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 aboutInga 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 powerthing, 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 todo so if you believe in a different god to mine. As for our last

war, if you ask a hundred people, German or English, whatwas it all about, ninety per cent would not really know. Inga

suddenly stopped, as if she had realised she was becoming tooemotional.

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 asa waste of lives, money, and buildings, all to no avail. There

were no real winners. Inga told Tom that her English boss


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had also lost a son in the war. She was indeed a pacifist andhated all violence.

Why cant countries just let other countries live the waythey want to? Inga sighed.

Tom couldnt answer that one. He was impressed by her

attitude. He had expected she might rationalise why Germanygot 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 eventuallyI 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 warmperson, Tom thought, and so pretty. He felt very attracted to

her. He had never felt like this before about a girl. She seemedto 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 classfamilies. 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 daytogether. From Monday to Friday, Tom worked long, hard

hours as a motor mechanic. Sometimes, Inga was able to get anevening 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, theywere 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


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having a night at home. Inga decided she wanted to spend theevening at Toms place, a small bungalow on the edge of town.

Tom lit a cosy fire before he went to meet her so whenthey 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 hada 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, isntit? 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 washesitant, 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 otherwith their hands. They moved from the settee on to the floor.

Before long, Tom had his hands at the top of Ingas stockingedthighs. 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 thetwo lovers were naked in front of the fire. They were oblivious

to the sound of the radio, the crackle of the fire. All they couldhear 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 Tomkissed 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. Hewas so hard now it was beginning to become painful. Inga

pushed him away from her a little so that she could look


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Tom, meet Franz. I hope you like the name. I named himafter 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 andintroduced 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 toPortsmouth. They had no immediate neighbours but other

people lived further down the street. All of the houses weredetached with a large back garden and a smaller front one.

Tom enjoyed gardening and grew many vegetables, whichhelped 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 toget 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 turntwo. 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 onlytwo 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 waseven 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 lifewas the house, her sons, and Tom; Toms life was work, his


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If it has got this bad in just three years, what it will be likein five, Inga? I imagine we would hate each other even more,

then I might start looking at other women, you might startlooking 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 sameway. 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 fora 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 areaction 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. Ingastill said nothing, so Tom continued.

Inga, weve been together for over three years, we havetwo 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 behere. 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 yearswith two babies to bring up and not enough money to have

anything? On top of that, you are always moaning andwhining. Tell me, Tom, when was the last time we went out


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together, just you and me? When was the last time you spentany money on me?

There has never beenany 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. Letsdo 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 theirrelationship was bad, but had not thought about the possibility

of splitting up.

If we cant manage as a couple now, how do you think wecould as two single parents with the two boys?

Tom was ready for this question. He had thought long andhard about what the best solution would be.

We each take one boy. You can return to Germany toyour 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 othersons 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. Letsend this discussion for now so we can each have more time to

think about it.

Two days later, Inga finally came to accept Tomsrationale. 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 bestidea. I have written to my mother and told her of our


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intentions. We wont get a reply for at least two weeks ofcourse, but Im sure it would be all right for me and Franz to

move in with her. Since my father was killed, she has beenvery lonely. Having Franz and I to keep her company will be

good for her.

Wait, Tom interrupted, when did we agree which sonwe should keep?

I thought I would take Franz; he is younger, and because

he had a German namemy fathers name it would be easierin 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 toaccumulate 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 ashort, awkward silence, and then Inga said, Well, I guess

thats it, isnt it? After three years and two children, it allcomes 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 assimple as that.

Inga said nothing. The sadness on her face said it all. Shelooked 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 weresitting by the fire as usual, listening to music. Tom finally

broke the awkward silence.


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We must keep the communication channels open, Inga. Ipromise I will make sure I let you know how Michael is

getting on. Once he is able to write, he can also send you aletter 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 willhave to get a job quite quickly though. He handed her an

envelope with the cash in it and she just nodded thank you, asshe was too choked with emotion to speak. What she did not

know was that he had borrowed some of it from a workcolleague 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 thatone 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 bemistaken for twins, but Michael had dark hair and eyes like his

father, and Franz was fair and blue-eyed, like his mother. Theyhad 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. Ingajoined 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 kitchenwindow, and although he was having the same sad thoughts,

he was a little more optimistic for all their futures.


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The next morning, Tom had arranged to take half a day offwork 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 himover, 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 littleboy at five thirty. She then turned abruptly and walked away

without looking back, but as she heard the door close, her heartfelt 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 thejourney.

The three of them walked to the bus stop for the half hourride to the train station. Inga boarded the train first, and then

Tom lifted Franz up into her arms. Inga lowered the window inthe 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 throatmade 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 lastlook 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 twowonderful 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 toeach other from the carriages and the platform. Then another


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them less and less; he had become accustomed to havingToms undivided attention.

Michaels obsession with ships seemed to grow, even atsuch 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 itwith 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 theships 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 otherchildren wanted and was happy playing with his little wooden

fleet, which was now all his own as he no longer had to sharewith his brother.

Soon the day came for Michael to start big school. Tommanaged 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 andhe could play with them until Tom arrived home from work.

This routine worked very well for the first six months, afterwhich 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, aformal-looking letter arrived at Toms home. Somewhat

surprised, Tom opened it and on a very nice piece of headednotepaper 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 letteralso 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, andnoticing how bright Michael was, he had phoned the school

and asked them to send the information to Tom.


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Tom sat down with Michael to talk about it, and soonrealised Michael was not opposed to the idea in any way. Once

he saw the pictures of pupils in their sailor uniforms, he wasconvinced, 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 sokeen 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 boardingschool.

Tom had always considered that a child needed both

parents around, not just one. At boarding school, on the otherhand, he would be well cared for and Michael would receive a

very good education. It also meant that Tom could get on withhis life and his work without the encumbrance of having a

young child to look after. By far the most attractive aspect forTom 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 hangaround Portsmouth getting a mundane job somewhere, just as

he had done. This way, a world of opportunity would be opento him. Tom quickly completed the scholarship application

forms and sent them off. A few weeks later, he receivedconfirmation 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 atthe 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 aday off work for the trip to Ipswich to take Michael to his new

school. The weekend before Michael was due to leave, theywent into Portsmouth town to buy him some going away


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clothes. Tom even treated himself to a new suit. He had alsoorganised a going away party for Michael with six of his

friends. Michael loved all the attention; it made him feelexceptionally important.


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Chapter Two

The journey by steam train to Southampton was very enjoyable

for Franz. He loved the huffing and puffing of the engine, andthe 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 sheepquietly grazing. After about three quarters of an hour, they

reached Southampton. Once the train had come to a halt andthe doors were flung open, a kindly porter helped Inga downon to the platform with her son and her two suitcases.

Excuse me, porter, we have a ship to board that is sailinglate this afternoon. Do you know where we must go now?

Inga asked.

Oh, that would be the Empress of Britain, maam. Its thatship over there, he said, pointing towards the only ship

moored at the dock. He could see Inga was travelling alonewith 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 wayaround. 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 feelingphysically and emotionally drained from the farewells andtheir 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 wassafe for them to cross here, although she couldnt help feel a

little nervous in case a train should come flying along at anymoment. 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.

one above and one below by trevor john towers

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