Kathleen McGurl

The Pearl Locket: A page-turning saga that will have you hooked


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1944

      Joan made her way back into the dance hall to look for Mags and the others.

      ‘There you are. We wondered where you’d got to,’ Mags said, clasping Joan’s hands. ‘I was scared you’d got caught up in that fight.’

      ‘What fight? I was in the ladies’ room. Oh, Mags, I’ve done something very silly.’ Joan felt her eyes well up with tears.

      But Mags had turned her attention away. ‘Oh look, there’s that Canadian airman. They’ve pulled him off the boy. Looks like he came off worse anyway—that’ll be quite a shiner he’s got there. He started it. Did you see? He just went for that poor boy with glasses, totally unprovoked, from what I could see. Joanie, did you see any of the fight?’

      ‘No, not at all. Mags, I think I’d like to go home now,’ said Joan, trying to hide behind her sister so that Freddie would not see her. He certainly did look a bit of a mess. She hoped the other boy was all right.

      Mags pulled a face. ‘Aw, Joan, I’m not ready to go yet. Things are just beginning to get lively. What’s happened? You seemed to be enjoying yourself earlier. Weren’t you dancing—oh, you were dancing with that Canadian who was in the fight!’

      ‘You stay, Mags. I’m going home.’

      ‘On your own?’

      ‘I’ll be all right. Don’t worry. See you later.’ Joan kissed her sister on the cheek and hurried away before Mags’s sense of sisterly duty got the better of her. She retrieved her coat from the cloakroom and gratefully stepped outside into the fresh night air. She breathed deeply, two shuddering breaths, and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Next time she’d know better.

      ‘Are you all right?’

      Joan turned to see who had spoken, and gasped. It was the boy with broken glasses. They were even more broken now—he was holding them in his hand. He had a split, bloodied lip and his shirt collar was torn. Despite all this, his eyes were full of concern for her, and she felt touched by his care.

      ‘I am, yes. But you look in a bad way. I heard you were in a fight with that horrible chap. What happened?’

      ‘I thought I’d seen him off, but he grabbed me as I went back into the dance hall, and managed to land a punch on me.’ He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his lip.

      ‘That looks sore. I’m so sorry.’

      ‘What for? It wasn’t you who threw the punch. Besides, I got a good right hook in and I think he came off worse.’

      Joan bit her lip. To think this boy had taken a beating and all because he had tried to protect her. And she still didn’t know his name!

      ‘But it was all because of me, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Joan.’

      The boy smiled. Despite his swollen lip his face lit up when he smiled, his cheeks dimpled and his eyes shone. He held out a hand. ‘I’m Jack. Jack McBride. I suppose circumstances weren’t really right for us to be properly introduced in there.’

      She shook his hand. It felt warm and strong. ‘Hello, Jack McBride. I’m pleased to meet you. And thank you for defending me.’

      He made a formal bow. ‘At your service, my lady.’

      She smiled. ‘Wish I was a lady. With a horse and carriage waiting here to take me home.’

      ‘I’m no horse, and I have no carriage, but if you are going home now I will walk you. With your permission, of course. I shall understand if you’ve had enough of young men’s attentions for one evening. Though I can assure you, I am nothing like that thug in there.’

      Joan had little experience of boys, but she could already tell there were at least two types, and that Jack and Freddie were polar opposites. She also knew which type she preferred, by far. She felt safe with Jack.

      ‘I should very much like you to walk me home. But I must warn you, it is quite a long way. I live on the east side of town, near the beach.’

      ‘That’s no problem at all. I’m going that way myself. Is your sister coming?’

      ‘She’s staying for a while longer.’

      ‘All right. Shall we walk along the promenade?’

      ‘In the dark?’

      ‘Nonsense, it’s not dark. Look, there’s a full moon tonight.’ He gestured upwards, and Joan noticed the moon for the first time. The streetlamps that usually lit the promenade had been turned off due to blackout restrictions, but the moon was providing more than enough silvery light to show them the way.

      ‘All right then, why not?’

      Jack crooked his elbow and Joan slipped her hand through, as he led her down to the pier entrance then along the promenade. The pier was closed, of course. Its middle section had been removed at the start of the war to prevent it being used by invading forces. Thankfully the beach had not been mined, although there were anti-tank obstacles poking out of the sand throughout its length.

      It felt so natural to be walking along with Jack, holding on to his arm like this. Natural, grown-up and very pleasant. She put all thoughts of the repulsive Freddie out of her head. Thank goodness not all boys were like that. She’d found a good one in Jack. Or rather, he’d found, and rescued, her. She smiled up at him as they walked, hoping he liked her as much as she was beginning to like him.

      ‘Look. Do you see the moonlight reflecting off the sea?’ Jack pointed across the bay.

      ‘It looks like a silver path, leading over the horizon. I wonder where you would end up if you could follow it.’

      ‘France, I should think. Or maybe somewhere magical, where you would never be found.’ Jack led her to a bench under a Victorian wrought-iron shelter on the edge of the prom and they sat down, gazing out over the silken sea. The tide was high, and the anti-invasion defences were only just visible.

      ‘It’s so beautiful. Maybe in the land at the end of the moonlight road there is no war.’

      Jack nodded. ‘Mmm. Everyone lives in peace there. No bombs, no guns, no one dying or being hurt.’

      ‘If only it could be like that here. I can scarcely remember how things were before the war. It seems as though it’s been going on for ever.’ She moved a little closer to him for the warmth.

      ‘It’ll be a while longer yet,’ he said. ‘But maybe this year the tide will turn.’

      ‘Why have you not joined up? Do you mind me asking?’

      ‘I don’t mind at all. I’ve only just turned eighteen, that’s why. I’ll probably be joining up quite soon now. I’m not a conchie, if that’s what you thought.’

      ‘No, I didn’t think that, although I wouldn’t mind if you were. Nobody should be forced to fight. Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion, aren’t they?’

      He turned to look at her, and nodded seriously. ‘Yes. I wish everyone thought like you. The world would be a happier place if only people would live and let live. But I do want to do my bit. Maybe there’s some little thing I’ll do as a soldier that will be the start of a chain of events, and the end of that chain will be that Britain wins the war sooner and thousands of lives are saved. Or maybe I’ll save the life of someone who goes on to be important to the whole human race. We can’t know what’s ahead of us, or where our actions will take us. All we can do is follow where our hearts lead, and act upon our beliefs.’

      He had turned to look at the shimmering sea again. She watched him, as a small muscle in his jaw clenched and relaxed. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, not feeling the intensity of her gaze upon him. She considered his words. How right he was! Follow your heart. Act upon your beliefs. Stay true to yourself, even in this time of war. She let her eyes follow his across the water, towards the dark distant horizon, and then