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It all started one Sunday afternoon while pushing my little brother in the pram. I saw Robert sitting on the bridge reading the newspaper. We started talking and that was it, the beginning of a short but wonderful relationship. The following week, on the way to the pictures with my sister, I met him again outside Trocadera ice-cream shop, in Bridge St. Lisburn.He recognised me and asked politely if he could come with us. He walked me home that evening. It started to rain while we were standing outside and my mother invited him.

My father, William Fullerton was in the Royal Flank Core, in the first world war, and Robert was also in the army, with the Royal Artillery.
A few months after we met, in 1941 he was posted to England and from there to Singapore in February 1942.It wasn't long until we got worried about Robert's wellbeing. We hadn't heard from him since he went to Singapore. Eventually after trying to trace him we found out he had been taken as a prisoner of war. We sent letters, but only received three or four postcards each with twenty-five words, to his mother, who was his next of kin. Three years later in 1945 he was released. He wrote to me on his way home, telling me unfortunately his friend Whitburn he had signed up with didn't make it. Poor Bobbie was sent straight to a hospital in Edinburgh Castle with malaria. He wasn't able to come and see me until July 1946

At the same time I was in hospital with fluid in the knee. I had a shadow in the lung which turned out to be tuberculosis. My stay in hospital was an experience in itself. The American hospital at Musgrave was a few makeshift nissan huts. I was the second civilian patient they had and a Spanish girl was the first. I remember distinctly there were buckets and basins everywhere to catch the water that dipped through the roof when it rained. I met three girls, Florence, Muriel and Eva in the hospital at that time. I still keep in contact with two of them to this day. We had two things in common. Muriel was married to a Scots man, Eva and I were engaged to Scots men and all three men were in the forces. We used to hang little bits of tartan and calendars above our beds. After staying in hospital for fifteen months, I was allowed out in November 1946 but had to wear a calliper until June 1947.

When I first saw Bobbie after the war I didn't recognise him he had lost so much weight. It was only when I saw my mother with him I realised it must be Bobby. He was just six stone. He stayed for a month and came back again in December for two weeks only to spend it in bed with malaria. He went back to Scotland and didn't return until July 9th 1947.We got married on the 16th July and went to Scotland on the 23rd July.
He never talked about the war but did comment that it was exactly like the story in John Bull's magazine,’ The Naked Island's version of the P.O.W.camps.He said some of the bigger chaps didn't survive long, they seem to go down quicker. He had different bouts of malaria, a bad ear and because his stomach had shrunk he couldn’t eat very much. I didn't dare give him rice to eat. When our daughter wouldn't eat her crusts he would say 'At one time your dad would have given his right arm for that'.

Bobbie went back to work in the colliery with the rest of his family. He had joined up before the miners had become exempt from service. I had an uncle who lived in Tasmania and in 1960 we planned to emigrate to Australia. The colliery had given him some great references and everything was booked to sail on the S.S.Astoria.We didn't make it. He came down with bronchitis that developed into pneumonia. Our plans to go to Australia were shattered, and sadly he died in 1961.The war had stolen our young lives. Tormented by ill health and hidden memories only to die at the tender age of 42. I was 36 at the time and our little daughter Stella was only 12. We were lucky to have 14 years together; he was such a gem.

As I look through our photos, smiling as fond memories filter back. Clutching his first present to me, a black handbag with a patient flap. I have cherished it all these years the way I have cherished his love.
Wonderful Bobbie, he was a gem.

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