Over All The Salt Seas - Swallows & Amazons fanfic

[elen_nare]

Title: Over All The Salt Seas
Rating:  G
WIP: Complete/1916 words
Main Characters/Pairings: John Walker / Nancy Blackett
Genre: Friendship / Romance
Summary: A chance encounter between John and Nancy
Author's notes: Beta'd by odessie (thank you very much!). Written for the New Year's Resolution Challenge on www.yuletidetreasure.org, for labellementeuse .

A tall young man walked down a street in Plymouth. The blue uniform that marked him as an officer of His Majesty’s Royal Navy drew the eyes of the few others who were also walking in the chilly afternoon. Lieutenant John Walker, however, gave little attention to the curious looks as he searched for somewhere that was open so he could get some tea.

On a rather unexpected leave while his ship was in the docks for repairs, John had originally planned to go home and spend some days with his mother and Susan, who had moved back home when the Blitz had started and her husband was called up. Bombed train lines, however, had made that plan unfeasible, so he was rather at a loss as to what to do with himself. For now, he had taken a room in a small hotel and, realising how hungry he was, had set out on his search.

A sign about halfway down the street caught John’s eye. Dilapidated and weatherworn, it still proclaimed that a café was – or once had been – housed here. The windows were boarded up, but that meant little these days. As he drew closer, though, the general air of abandon about the place made him see that it was indeed shut down. Disappointed, he continued down the street until, at the next corner, his progress was rather violently interrupted by someone cannoning into him and sending them both sprawling. He had just realised that his attacker was a young woman in the navy blue uniform of the Wrens, when a familiar voice rang out.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you coming, I hope you’re not hurt... John? Is it you?”

Still sprawled on the floor, a soft, self mocking chuckle escaped John’s lips, as a fragment of a letter he had completely forgotten until now suddenly floated across his mind. “... it seems Nancy’s going  to be moved to Plymouth soon, I’ll let you know her new address in my next letter...” That had been a couple of months ago, and he hadn’t heard anything from Titty about it since; doubtless the letter had got lost in the post, and he hadn’t remembered to ask.

Standing up and offering a hand to the young woman, John replied with a grin, “Yes, Nancy, it is me.  And it would seem you haven’t lost your habit of rushing everywhere. I might have expected we’d literally run into each other!”

Laughing as she accepted his help and got to her feet, Nancy retorted, “Dawdling never gets you anywhere! But shiver my timbers, what are you doing here? I didn’t think you were supposed to be on leave for a while, and why are you in Plymouth of all places?”

On hearing his news and his current quest, Nancy immediately pulled him along to a small café in a nearby side street. Ordering tea for two, they sat down at a small, chintz-covered table and regarded each other, suddenly silent. They hadn’t seen each other for nearly two years, and weren’t sure exactly how to take up the thread of their old friendship again.

Noticing the insignia on his friend’s uniform, John broke the silence.

“I see you’ve been promoted. Congratulations, Third Officer Blackett.”

Nancy grinned. “Thank you, Lieutenant Walker.” Shaking her head, she added, “That still sounds a little strange, doesn’t it, Admiral?”

That small reminder of their childhood adventures was all that was needed to wipe away any traces of awkwardness, and by the time their tea arrived, they were deep in conversation about their respective naval careers. Having exhausted the subject, they moved on to news of their family and friends. Their mothers, both caring for evacuated children. Nancy felt a twinge of guilt at that – Mrs. Walker had Bridget and Susan with her, but Mrs. Blackett was alone at Beckfoot, unless Jim or her daughters should visit. John, however, sensibly pointed out that, since that was the case, surely it was better for her to have the evacuees staying there, and Nancy allowed herself to be comforted by that thought.

John was in fact worried just as much about his mother and Susan, but for a different reason. He could only guess how they must be feeling, with their husbands – and in Mrs. Walker’s case, her children – fighting in the war. The look he had seen on their faces whenever a telegram arrived was not one he could easily forget. Nancy had no words of comfort for him, only understanding, but it was enough.

People came and went as the pair talked. Before the war, the café had no doubt done excellent business, and even now most of the tables were taken. Everything was neat and well looked after, with few signs of the deterioration so evident in other places.

John and Nancy talked on, enjoying the chance to catch up. They spoke of Peggy, also in the Wrens, and stationed at Scapa Flow; Roger, who had surprised all his family by joining the RAF, rather than the Navy; Dick and Dorothea, performing work of a mysterious nature at Bletchley Park; and Titty, a nurse in London.

It was at this point that Nancy, lowering her teacup, gave John a stern look that quite surprised him.

“I got quite a long letter from Titty recently. Lots of news, but one thing in particular surprised me. She said she wished you’d tell her something about how you were when you wrote, because you never seemed to send any real news.”

With a sinking feeling, John tried to defend himself from this unexpected attack.

“It’s not easy to find the time to write, I’m usually pretty busy – you should know that, Nancy! There’s never a quiet moment on board...”

He trailed off, as the look Nancy gave me made it quite clear his defence was getting him nowhere.

“Frankly, John, that’s nonsense and you know it. Don’t be a galoot, you can always take the time to write at least a couple of lines and tell her how you are. What’s the real reason?”

John sighed. He felt Nancy wouldn’t be too impressed with what he was about to say, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“Honestly? I know she’s grown up, but she’s still my little sister... We’re at war, and it’s hard to think of anything to write that isn’t something I want to shield her from. I know she’s nursing, and she sees the reality of war every day, but that doesn’t make it easier, it just makes it harder. She’s always been very sensitive, and I don’t want to worry her more if I can help it.”

He had been staring at the teapot as he spoke, seeing without consciously noticing the chipped rim that had been painted over. Had he looked up, he would have realised that Nancy’s eyes, though still stubborn, were much gentler than before.

“I thought so... John, what you don’t seem to realise is that Titty may be very sensitive, but she’s also very strong. Well, she couldn’t be a nurse if she wasn’t!”

John shook his head, cutting across her.

“Yes, and that worries me too! She gets so worked up about things...” He cast about for an example. “Remember the dowsing? She was so upset about it –”

Now it was Nancy’s turn to interrupt.

“Remember the dowsing? I think I remember it better than you do. Yes, she got worked up at first, but she did it, all by herself, and she found a well for us. She’s stronger than you think, John. And you don’t have to tell her everything, just how your day’s been, how you’re doing... I know you don’t want to worry her, but really, you’re worrying her more now.”

Nancy’s sharp eyes were boring into John’s, watching his reactions to what she had just said. She saw his slight frown, but then his brow smoothed over, and she knew she had won.

“I suppose you’re right... I hadn’t really thought about it like that. I’ll write to her more often.”

“And it will be good for you as well, to have someone to write to. You do tend to keep things to yourself too much, you know.” Nancy’s eyebrows were raised knowingly.

John nodded rather reluctantly. It was true, he knew, but he couldn’t see himself confiding everything to Titty; regardless of what conclusion he might just have come to, she was still his little sister. But it was the worst things, the things he wouldn’t – couldn’t – write to her about that he needed to talk about the most. Nancy’s next question, breaking into his train of thought, made him eye his friend rather dubiously, wondering if she had developed the ability to read his mind somehow.

“Do you have a pencil and paper? I’ll give you my address. That way you’ll have someone to tell all the things you won’t write to Titty”.

“Nancy! What makes you think –”

“I know you, John. And...” Oddly, uncharacteristically, she was hesitating. “I need someone else to write to as well, sometimes.  Someone who isn’t Mother or Peggy.”

John nodded, understanding, though he couldn’t resist teasing her as he searched his pockets for the items she wanted.

“Who’s being overprotective now? I didn’t think I’d be the only one.”

Laughing, Nancy stuck her tongue out at him as she took the pencil stub and the fragment of paper that had turned up in his pocket. Tiny, but fingers that had once written important dispatches for pigeons to carry on scraps no bigger than this squeezed the two addresses in easily. It had grown dark outside while they talked, forgetting the time, and it was unfortunately time to part. Nancy would be working the next few days, and John still hoped to return home for a few days, so they didn’t think they’d be able to meet up again. They walked a little way together, until they arrived at the corner where their ways parted. They both hesitated, suddenly uncomfortable, then hugged quickly. Nancy set off at her usual headlong pace, calling back over her shoulder “Don’t forget to write!”

John waved at her, smiling, and watched until she turned a corner. Then, setting a brisk pace himself, he returned to the hotel where he was temporarily staying. Closing the door of his room, he pulled out his wallet, checking to make sure he still had Nancy’s address. He chuckled to himself as he saw the miniature skull and crossbones she had managed to fit into a corner. A search in his luggage produced a pen and some writing paper, and he sat down, deciding to give Nancy a surprise and write before she did. “Dear Nancy...”

Meanwhile, in another part of town, another letter was also being written, this one by a young Wren. This one started “Dear Galoot John...”. Signing it with “Love, Nancy”, she slipped it into an envelope addressed to Mrs. Walker’s house. Nancy smirked. Shiver her timbers! John wouldn’t be expecting anything until he returned from leave, but she’d surprise him.

Neither of them knew it yet, but those letters were only the first of many. And over time, they’d come to take quite a different character from their original friendly style. Some might even call them love letters, but of course that was ridiculous. An Amazon pirate and an explorer didn’t write love letters!

The End