DECEMBER 1943

Half an hour after he left, it became clear to me what I should do. I pulled on my coat. I was in a hurry. I closed in the door behind me and began to walk briskly towards the pub. I looked up. The moon was wrapped in a thick and heavy fog, and I was cold so I started to run. It was Friday night and I was sure that they would all be there. I was sure of it. I opened the door to the pub and all eyes were on me. I walked in and stopped. The place was full. My heart was pounding away and I couldn’t catch my breath. Len saw me. He frowned. He might as well just look on, I thought, because I’m in the pub and I’m not going anywhere. He was sitting in the corner with his friends. So I went over and sat next to him. I think he must have already realized that the strange man in the pub was my husband. But he didn’t do anything. Except reach up and touch my face. What happened? I didn’t say anything. I just looked across at Len. Why? Now I looked back at Travis. His friends fired questions. Her old man beat her up? Because of you, man? They tried to ask without making things uncomfortable for me. Then they remembered. One of them asked me if I’d like a drink. Like a drink, Joyce? I don’t think I do. This is what I said. That I didn’t think I did, thank you. And so I waited for a while. But I could see that I was making them uneasy. I got up and decided to go. Travis stood and said that he would walk with me. No, I said. Again I glanced purposefully at the husband. Then I left. Before I did so, I touched his hand. I just wanted you to know. These were my parting words. But know what? I thought.