Wish You Were Here (yma whans dhym ty dhe vos omma)

The summer Ruth spends in Cornwall is glorious. She stays with her Aunt Jane, her mother’s younger sister, who, with her husband Roger, moved to St Ives the year before to open a bed and breakfast with eight guest rooms. It is 1966 and tourism is flourishing. After her duties at Bos Powes are over (she serves breakfast and cleans the bedrooms) Ruth is free for the rest of the day. Determined to enjoy her last summer of relative freedom before her nursing course begins in the autumn she walks, swims and sunbathes the days away. She is assured that Jane and Roger, busy trying to make their escape to the seaside a success, are glad of her help, and happy that she is able to entertain herself.

Before long Ruth meets other girls her own age; some local, some, like her, enjoying a summer adventure. Easy friendships are made and continue through the long hot days and nights which, more often than not, include the sharing of a couple of bottles of lukewarm cider and occasionally result in an impromptu party on the beach or in someone's digs. She meets Gorran at such an event late in August, just ten days before she is due to go home to Dudley. Sensing his interest Ruth is bolder than usual and her brave, if a little clumsy, attempts to flirt are rewarded. He's a fisherman, who works, as she does, from dawn till early afternoon, and until Ruth leaves they spend their free time together.

The proud owner of a second hand Vespa as well as a golden tan, strong arms, and the most beautiful blue eyes south of the Tamar, Gorran is clearly something of a catch himself, and Ruth knows that she is the envy of all her new friends. The couple explore the county visiting remote villages and secluded beaches. They take picnics, sandwiches or pasties and fruit, and drink lemonade straight from the bottle. At 16 Ruth has never had a boyfriend and Gorran, a serious young man, charms her by appearing to be happy for their relationship to be (mostly) cerebral. They kiss a little but talk more:  about books, about art, about music, and about each of their hopes for the future.

'I know I haven't even started yet, but I hope I do well in the hospital,' Ruth admits.

'Matron at least, my lover.' Gorran smiles and adds, 'I love the sea but I don't want to stay on the fishers for ever. I've not told anyone else this. I'd like to train as an engineer.'

'You will then, I'm sure of it.'

In addition to sharing his dreams Gorran tells Ruth all he knows about his beloved home. He recounts stories of mermaids and pirates, piskies and giants and takes her to an ancient burial site near Mullion and to Men-an-Tol, the standing stones, long thought to have healing powers and to ensure fertility. Ruth giggles and blushes.

A couple of days later is her final one. Ruth knows that the relationship won't survive a 200 mile separation, that what they have had is a wonderful holiday romance. At their last picnic together they eat egg and tomato sandwiches and fresh peaches. Laughing at a story Gorran is telling Ruth bites into a particularly ripe fruit and the juice dribbles down her chin. He leans forward and gently licks it clean.

'Yum, sweet,' he says.

'Me or the fruit?’  Ruth touches Gorran’s face as she speaks.

'Definitely you,' he replies, kissing her deeply this time.

Returning his kiss Ruth pulls Gorran towards her and runs her hands up his back under his shirt.

Soon they are undressed. Their lovemaking is playful rather than intense but in the next couple of hours Ruth experiences sensations that her bed-time readings of love and romance had not prepared her for.  Later as they hold hands and watch the stars Ruth says, 'I'll never forget you.'

'Nor I you,' says Gorran.

They share one last, lingering kiss.

Back in the Midlands Ruth throws herself into her training. Reminders of her wonderful three months in Cornwall come from a number of postcards from Gorran and a couple from Jane. She writes back to Gorran, their communication affectionate rather than passionate; a postcard depicting St Ives' main beach and proclaiming Wish You Were Here the closest to a declaration from either of them.

One cold night just before the clocks go back Ruth returns from a late shift. She's tired and feeling a little sick.

'Hello, dear, I'm just going up. There's post for you from our Jane. Goodnight, Ruth.'

'Night, mum,' says Ruth distractedly, as she rips open her letter.

She sits heavily on the sofa as she takes the words in. Gorran, strong, gentle, funny, lovely Gorran is dead, lost at sea in a storm two nights ago. 

'So, he'll never know,' Ruth whispers to herself, touching her stomach and admitting to herself for the first time that she is pregnant.

Back in Cornwall, on the north coast this time, Ruth walks the cliffs daily as her pregnancy proceeds. The staff at the mother and baby home to which she has been banished are not unkind but the care is practical rather than loving. The other girls are friendly enough but Ruth prefers solitude. Looking out at the invariably wild sea she thinks of Gorran the man-boy she has fallen in love with since his death. Alone in her room she knits clothes for the baby she is to give away. Jane visits a few times bringing treats to eat and she receives a weekly letter from her mother, who proud of her daughter's achievements thus far, is not shy about letting Ruth know how bitterly disappointed she is by her fall from grace.

The birth is long and hard. Ruth is given next to no pain relief and those attending barely touch her. Exhausted and distraught at the end Ruth vaguely hears a cry before her baby is taken away. She expects to care for her son or daughter for a number of weeks and so is surprised there is no crib beside her bed when she wakes up in her room the next morning.

She finds out why when the homes' superintendent comes to see her.

'Your daughter died a couple of hours after her birth. You need to put all this behind you now and get on with your life.'

Ruth is shocked by the news and by the cold delivery of it and it is a few minutes before she is able to speak.

'Can I see her?' she says.

'No, no. Not a good idea.' The older women seems horrified by this suggestion. She leaves then and Ruth cries, once again, for the loss of Gorran and, for the first, but by no means the last time, for the loss of their child.

................

A usual life of ups and downs follows for Ruth. She does indeed achieve a degree of greatness in her chosen profession after her staggered start and although she doesn't reach the grade of matron before they are first phased out she does later in her career become a modern matron. She has many friends but never marries, nor lives with a man, despite a couple of offers. She has no more children. She never again goes to Cornwall, the county where she spent the best summer and worst spring of her life. When travelling to see friends, the departure board at Birmingham New Street always gives her pause for thought, but she is never tempted to board a train.

For nearly 50 years the most significant dates in her diary are the anniversaries of Gorran's death and the day that her daughter (Bethany as Ruth privately named her) was born and died. A cold day in January 2015 everything changes. She is recently retired and enjoying having more time for her friends, her garden and her books. Having no family responsibilities (her mother died a decade earlier) she wonders what else she can usefully do in the forthcoming years.

The post arrives during breakfast and after she has opened and disposed of the junk mail she turns to the large official looking envelope. The letter is from an intermediary service that puts adopted children in touch with birth parents. Over the next few weeks Ruth begins a journey that she never dreamed possibly. She discovers that although her daughter did die as she was told, her twin, who was hidden from Ruth in all ways, was taken from the home and given to a local couple. John, her son, was not aware of the circumstances of his birth until after the death of both his social parents. He was unable to uncover the whole of the mystery but the discovery of an adoption notification and his birth certificate complete with Ruth’s and Gorran's names led eventually to Ruth’s third trip to Cornwall.   

Ruth enjoys the train journey soaking in the sights she last saw from a train window more than half a lifetime ago. She dozes through most of Devon dreaming of the Cornwall she remembers. She dreams of Goran and their children too; Bethany a babe in arms and John a man with his father’s wide smile. Near Dawlish the wind is up and the waves crashing against the train windows wake her. She shivers, nervous at to what awaits her at the end of the trip. The weather has improved by the time the train arrives at Penzance, the final stop. Ruth breathes in the salty air, hears the seagulls call. At the end of the platform a man raises his hand.

Just over a week later Ruth makes the return journey her heart full of hope for the future. Rather than feeling bitter about the years she has missed she is looking forward to the promised experiences and relationships ahead. John and his wife Emma will visit her next and then she’ll meet her grandchildren and baby Joanna, her great grandchild. The visit has been even better than she hoped for; such a welcoming and generous couple, and John so bright, with such vision, just like his father. She’s so happy she could help them a little. Once again the train lulls her into sleep. Dreamless this time. On awakening she feels only peace.

…………

Arriving home after dropping Ruth at the railway station John and Emma, or rather David and Clare as they were named at birth, pack up their clothes and the few personalising effects; photographs of ‘their children’, a half-knitted jumper, a trophy or two. Tomorrow they will return the key of the holiday cottage they have rented for the past fortnight and then make their way to Heathrow. They have a pair of one-way-to-the-sun tickets booked. The couple aren’t sure yet what their next scam will be but with a cheque from Ruth for fifty thousand pounds in the bank, which will clear within a couple of days, there’s no hurry to decide.