大象传媒

It was 2 o'clock in the morning, everything was still, silent and sleeping - everything but me. I was restless with fear and anxiety. My husband Frank was due to return tomorrow, but their regiment had been hit hard. The Germans were ruthless as they invaded Belgium and I feared that Frank might not be among those who would find safety in Britain.
I listened to the radio early the following morning, to learn that several ports had been bombed during the night. My heart skipped a beat as I recognised one of the ports to be the one that Frank would have arrived at yesterday evening. He should have left before the attack, but terrible doubt still plagued my thoughts.
I spent the rest of the morning staring obsessively from the living room window. When we would he be back? I felt uneasy as hour by hour rolled by and he still wasn't here. The midday sky was over-cast and dreary, even the blossoming trees seemed gloomy and sad. I fancied I could see a distant figure running up the worn mud track into the village. I didn't allow myself to hope that it might be Frank - I expected him to return with other solidiers. But as it drew closer and closer, I could no longer mistake the man rushing knee-deep in mud towards his home. Relief rushed over me as I realised Frank was safe.

By Alexi Reynolds

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