GI Brides: The Wartime Girls Who Crossed the Atlantic for Love (32 page)

After three weeks, Sylvia's luggage finally arrived with an apology note from Cunard. It turned out that her suitcase had gone on the
Queen Elizabeth
by mistake. ‘Typical!' she said.

A letter also arrived from Bob. ‘I miss you and Barry so much,' he wrote. ‘I've gotten used to having you around, and now I'm all on my own at home. Please come back soon.'

But Sylvia knew she had to be strong. ‘If you find somewhere for us to live, I'll come back,' she wrote to him.

As the weeks went by and she waited to hear whether Bob would be true to his word, Sylvia settled more and more into her old life. She felt an enormous sense of relief to be surrounded by familiar things and familiar people once again. She met up with her former workmate Peggy for lunch in London, taking the train up to Charing Cross, just like she had done so many times when going to work at the Piccadilly Hotel. She remembered how exciting it had felt the first time she made the journey, when she had gone to work ‘Up West', and smiled to think how much further west she had ended up travelling just a few years later. After eating at Lyons Corner House, they took Barry to feed the pigeons in Trafalgar Square. It was strange to see central London now empty of Americans – as if the ‘friendly invasion' had been just a dream.

After a few months, Bob had still not written to say he had got them an apartment, and Sylvia realised people were beginning to wonder whether she was really planning to return to America. A friend had even offered her a job in the offices of the Woolwich Co-op. It was hard for Sylvia to know what to say to such offers when she herself didn't know how long she was going to be in England.

When a letter finally came announcing that Bob had found them somewhere to live, Sylvia felt torn. She still loved Bob, and she was glad that he had at last done what she wanted, but she had been so unhappy in America that part of her recoiled at the idea of returning.

Sylvia was a girl of strong principles, however. She had sworn in her marriage vows that she would stand by Bob for the rest of her life, and she had promised him she would come back to America once he found them a place to live. She didn't feel she could break either of her pledges.

The next day, Sylvia went up to the Cunard shipping office in London to book her return journey. But it seemed that every man and his dog suddenly wanted to travel, and she was told there was no availability. A small part of her felt relieved that she had been given an extension to her trip. ‘I'm sorry, but I can't get passage at the moment,' she wrote to Bob. ‘I'll try again soon.'

Back in Baltimore, her husband was getting more and more nervous. He feared that if Sylvia stayed too long, she might change her mind.

A few weeks later, Sylvia tried again to buy a ticket at the Cunard office, but again she was turned away.

Bob was now frantic. It was nearly seven months since he had waved his wife and son goodbye in New York. In desperation, he contacted a local politician in Baltimore, mentioning that he was an ex-serviceman and begging for help in returning his wife to him. A month later, he wrote to say that he had managed to get Sylvia passage on an American ship, the SS
Washington
.

When she gave her parents the news, Sylvia could see the pain in their eyes. Once again, they dutifully went to see their daughter off as she left them for America, not knowing how many years they would be parted. ‘Promise you'll write this time if things get really bad,' Mrs Bradley said.

Sylvia could see how difficult it was for her dad in particular to be parted from the grandchild he had grown to love so much. Poor Barry called out ‘Granddad! Granddad!' as they set sail on the ship, looking around desperately for the man who had become like a second father to him.

The SS
Washington
was nothing like the luxurious
Queen Mary
, and when they hit stormy weather in the Irish Sea, it rocked ferociously. Sylvia was very seasick, but she had to keep going to meal sittings in order to feed Barry, no matter how queasy she felt.

Despite her sickness, Sylvia began to feel more and more hopeful the closer they got to New York. At last, she and Bob would be away from his hateful father, and free from the influence of his gambling relatives. They could finally make the proper start they should have done before.

When the ship arrived and Sylvia finally saw Bob, she felt a rush of love for him. He threw his arms around her and Barry, and they were a family once again.

‘I've got something to tell you,' he said. ‘The apartment we've got isn't going to be ready for a few days . . .'

‘Okay,' Sylvia said cautiously.

‘But my best man Don's moved into a new place and he says we can stay there while he's on holiday.'

They took the train back to Baltimore, and then rode out of town several miles on the bus to an area of new-build starter homes called the Elmwood Development, which had recently been constructed on former farmland.

‘This is Don's place,' Bob said, taking out a key to one of the houses and ushering her inside. ‘What do you think?'

Sylvia took a look around. Everything was brand, spanking new – a white L-shaped kitchen with a wall of cabinets, a washing machine and a small refrigerator, a sitting room furnished in American colonial-style furniture and a good-sized master bedroom.

‘Did you see the back room?' Bob asked. He led her into a smaller room that had a child's bed in it.

‘I didn't know Don and his wife had a child,' Sylvia said, confused.

‘They don't. It's for Barry,' Bob said, grinning impishly from ear to ear. ‘This is our house. I got a GI loan and bought it for us!'

‘Bob!' Sylvia cried, throwing her arms around him.

She was overjoyed. The painful eight months of separation had all been worth it. Now she had a beautiful, fully furnished house to call her own. And best of all, it was a good six miles from Bob's parents.

Since she had confronted Raymond about his past infidelities, Rae had done her best to put her feelings of hurt and betrayal behind her. She had thrown the letter she had written to her family onto the fire, watching the corners of the paper curl in the flames as she tried to exorcise from her mind the awful things she had heard about her husband.

In a way, it surprised Rae how quickly things had gone back to normal, at least on the surface. Raymond would go off to work every morning, she would stay at home as before and do the ironing, and when he got home she would scrub the coal off his back like a dutiful wife. But there was a crack in the relationship that no one else could see – Rae and Raymond were no longer sleeping together.

At the weekends, Raymond was also spending less and less time with her. When he wasn't out hunting or fishing with the other men in the family, he and a friend would often drive to Steubenville, a town just over the state border in Ohio. Raymond explained that his friend was buying costume jewellery for a business he was setting up, and that he enjoyed tagging along for the ride. Rae was a little disappointed that despite repeated trips Raymond never bought any jewellery for her, but she didn't push the issue. She already felt like there was a growing distance between them and she had no intention of provoking another argument.

But one day, when she was round at her next-door neighbour Mary's house, Rae let slip how frustrated she was about her husband's repeated trips out of state.

‘Did you say he goes to Steubenville?' Mary asked quietly.

‘Yes,' Rae replied. ‘Why?'

‘Oh, nothing,' said Mary. ‘Don't worry about it.'

‘What's so special about Steubenville?' Rae asked her.

‘Well . . .' Mary hesitated. ‘It's got a bit of a reputation.'

‘A reputation?'

‘For disorderly houses,' Mary admitted awkwardly. She looked embarrassed, and rushed off to the kitchen to make coffee.

As Rae sat alone in Mary's living room, she felt a feeling of dread creep through her. It had taken such strength of will to overcome her hurt at Raymond's past infidelities. Was it possible he had gone back to cheating on her again – and worse, with prostitutes?

Rae drank her coffee in near silence, before heading back to the Wessel house. Alone in the bedroom, she struggled to decide on the best course of action. Part of her wanted to confront Raymond, but she knew if her suspicions were incorrect it would only push them further apart. There was no actual evidence that Raymond had done anything wrong – just because there were brothels in Steubenville, it didn't mean that was why he was going there. Perhaps she had grown mistrustful after all the problems they had encountered in the past, and her free time was leading to too much thinking and paranoid notions. It was better, she decided, to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume his weekends away were as innocent as he claimed.

Despite Rae's best efforts, however, the distance between her and Raymond continued to grow.

One day, Rae was walking to Finleyville when she passed a group of local boys larking about in the street. She had seen the kids before, usually playing Cowboys and Indians, oblivious to any adults who were present. This time, though, as soon as she approached, the boys ducked down behind a wall, and once she had passed she heard a peal of laughter go round the group.

Rae turned to see what the fuss was about. ‘It was right here,' she heard one boy tell the others. ‘He was so tall, and she was so short, he was almost on his knees!'

They all sniggered.

Rae walked up to them. ‘Who are you kids talking about?'

The boy who had spoken looked down at the floor. One of his friends took a step forward and spoke to Rae. ‘Your husband,' he told her, smirking.

Rae felt her blood chill. ‘Was my husband here with a woman?' she asked the second boy, in as calm and measured a voice as she could muster.

‘Yeah,' he replied boldly. ‘He was having her right up against this wall.'

The other boys burst out laughing again.

Rae had heard enough. She turned and marched away as fast as she could. She could still hear their voices behind her, but the noise barely registered. She was already so overwhelmed with humiliation that no amount of jeering could make her feel worse.

Rae cursed herself for ever having fallen for Raymond. Why hadn't she held her ground as he had chipped away at her resistance, asking her out again and again? Why hadn't she listened to her sister Mary when she had said she didn't like him, and to her brothers, who had warned her not to date Yanks?

Now that she had discovered Raymond's true colours, Rae realised that she had been made a fool of from the moment she had arrived in Hackett. The happy-go-lucky, easy-going man she had married, the brave soldier whose safety she had worried about so much when he was off in France, had been nothing more than an illusion. Everyone else in the town had seen her husband for what he really was – even the local kids knew him better than she did.

She couldn't bear to go back to the Wessels' house after what she had heard, but who could she turn to? As she came into Finleyville, she spotted a local policeman riding on his horse. In desperation, she ran up to him. ‘Can you help me?' she asked breathlessly. ‘I need to get away from my husband. He's a womaniser and I can't live with him any more.' Rae could hardly believe the words were coming out of her mouth.

The policeman laughed. He probably knew exactly who her husband was, Rae realised.

‘You'll need to see the squire,' he told her. ‘Follow me.'

Rae walked alongside the policeman and his horse until they arrived at the address of the Justice of the Peace in Finleyville. ‘Go talk to him,' the man told her. ‘I'll be outside.'

Rae explained her situation to the JP, and he took a careful note of all the details. It was an uncomfortable interview for her, but after a year of putting up with her husband's outrageous behaviour she was determined to see it through.

When he had gathered all he needed, the JP scribbled something on a piece of paper and summoned the policeman inside. ‘Go and pick up Mr Wessel,' he told him, handing over the paper. ‘This is a warrant for his arrest.'

Rae couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had just got her own husband arrested! She waited nervously for Raymond's arrival.

An hour later, the policeman came back with Raymond in tow. As he was brought into the room, he avoided Rae's gaze.

‘I'm ordering you to pay your wife $46.50 every two weeks,' the JP told him.

‘Yes, sir,' Raymond said. Despite the circumstances, he almost seemed his usual laid-back self, as if what was happening didn't bother him at all. He left without giving Rae a second glance.

The JP turned to her. ‘Do you have an attorney?'

She shook her head.

‘You can pick up the cheques from Louis Oppenheim. He's a lawyer with an office in Monongahela. I'll write down the address. Now, do you have anywhere to stay tonight?'