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the-dendrophile-bookdragon · 29 days

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Captain America

Pairing: Tom Bennett x fem!reader

Warning: World War II, Fluff, Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Family Fluff, did I mention this fic is very fluffy?

Summary: Tom's son was deeply convinced his father was the British counterpart of Captain America, his favourite comic hero. In his son's mind, he was a hero for protecting his mother and himself on the open sea.

Simon Bennett was the spitting image of his father. Dirty blonde hair. The most brilliant shade of blue. His cheeky grin. And the mischievous nature even at the tender age of four.

He was created the night after his father returned home from France. A night filled with passion and no caution for consequences.

His mother, his father’s school sweetheart and the love of his father’s life, had given birth to him nine months later during an air raid.

Tom woke up to the blaring of the sirens. He turned to his side, softly kissing the woman next to him awake. „Sweetheart, we have to go.“

He got up from the squeaky old bed and rushed around for their pre-packed bag.

You softly sat up. Rubbing your eyes before getting slowly out of bed. The large stomach in front of you limits your movements. Tom walked over with your coat in his arm, helping you stand and wrapping it around your shoulders.

He led you outside, trying to shield you from any flying rubble or glass as you made your way to the nearest air-raid shelter. His anxiety grew the longer you remained outside.

It was hard for you to walk. Your ankles are swollen and your back is hurting from the weight of the baby and the impending birth. You were in your last month, a month you should rest and stay off your feet. Tom wasn’t the religious type. But he prayed for you not to go into labour this night. He should have prayed harder he thought as you stopped in the middle of the street. Right in front of the shelter.

A pained sob escaped your lips as you held your stomach. „Sweetheart!“ He let go of the bag of clothes and important things to rush to you. „The baby!“ You gasped. Tom saw the puddle forming on the street. His panic and his fatherly instincts kicked in.

He rushed to the bag and picked it up before he rushed back to you and picked you off your feet and into his arms. He rushed into the shelter before they closed the door.

Bombs fell outside as your screams filled the room full of people. He was thankful as a nurse stepped forward and helped you deliver the baby.

Simon Bennett drew his first breath when the aircraft over Manchester was gone.

It was a welcomed sound in the shelter after the explosions and falling buildings. Cheers broke out as his son screamed for the first time.

His face was red and his fists waving around as he declared his malaise about not being nestled in his mother’s warm womb anymore. Tom chuckled as he held the small boy. His smile grew larger as the small boy wiggled closer to his chest.

It had been hard for him to leave them behind to go to sea again. He had no choice, cursing the stupidity of his youth. The navy had given him plenty of time to be with his family.

Before he left, he married you. With Simon in your arms and Lois and his niece Vera as your witnesses. He had never seen a more beautiful sight.

The goodbye was the hardest. Everyone cried. You, Lois, him, even Vera. But the cry of his beautiful son was the most heart-wrenching one. He had already seen your tears the first two times he had gone to sea. He knew his heartache, but he didn’t anticipate how much Simon’s little cry would wound him.

As often as you could, you would write him a letter. Sending pictures with a few letters so Tom would see how his son had grown over the months, later years, he wasn’t home.

In one letter you wrote about your new employment with Robina Chase. He was glad you found employment with Harry’s mother as her housemaid. You were able to take care of Simon and Vera while working. And you were out of the city and the danger.

My dear Tommy,

I hope you are well. We haven’t heard anything from the Navy. Robina’s military contacts couldn’t get through to the Navy. I guess you are engaged in a battle or you are too far to reach. I hope it’s the last.

Simon and Vera are getting along nicely. They started to crawl, giving me a hard time to clean the floors. Sometimes they would race each other, giggling like madmen.

He also started to make sounds. It’s funny how I would point to something and he would make a sound. His favourite so far is car noises. When you come home he can probably call you ‚daddy‘ or ‚papa‘.

Besides Simon’s progress, I think I made progress with our hostess. It seems Robina has grown fond of me. I am the caretaker of her granddaughter after all. She has given me more days off now. Inviting me to go on walks with her. Asking me about both children’s development. She seemed genuinely interested.

Your letters to him were his lifeline. His hope of returning home. Every chance he got he would write back. He wrote ten each day. Hoping some of them will reach you. He needed you to know he was still alive and well.

He would sew the pictures you send him into the pocket of his shirt so he could carry them with him at all times and not lose them. And if he should die, you and Simon would be next to him.

Simon was three years old when an American soldier gifted him his first Captain America comic.

You always had to read it to him at night time. He insisted on it. “He is like daddy.“ He would say. “Daddy is my Captain America.“ You smiled at your boy. His grin was always so cheerful when his eyes danced over the pictures on the paper. He loved the adventures of Steve Rogers. Imagining his father fighting the bad man at sea.

Robina had even gone out of her way and had smuggled some comics into England for Simon’s fourth birthday.

But his greatest gift was his father.

You were standing at the docs with Simon sitting on your shoulders. Both of you are searching for a familiar mop of blonde hair. It became a game as more men left the belly of the ship. ‚Spot Daddy‘ Simon called it.

As he finally spotted his father, Simon became more excited. He was shouting for him, waving enthusiastically.

Tom looked up as he heard an unfamiliar child's voice calling for his father. His brows moved together as the boy waved and even shouted his name.

His eyes widened as he saw the woman the boy was sitting on top of her shoulders. You smiled up at your son as best as you could before turning back to look in front of you. Watching him rush over to you. Weaving through his fellow shipmates before finally reaching the both of you.

He took Simon from your shoulders. Groaning mockingly as he held him to his chest. Kissing his red cheeks. „My boy has grown!“ He laughed. “he is better fed than I am.”

Simon hugged his father for the first time in his four years. Savouring the warm feeling. „Welcome home, daddy. I missed you.“ He mumbled into his neck. His small arms tightened around his neck.

Tom tightened one arm around his son’s body, while the other pulled you to his chest. Kissing both yours and Simon’s forehead. „Missed you more, kid.“ He whispered against his son’s cheek.

Tom came home from work. It was late afternoon, the sun had already set. His body was weary from the heavy lifting.

„Honey, I am home!“ He called as he walked further into the house. There was no reply, the house quiet. He walked into the living room, Simon sitting on the sofa, reading another comic.

The boy’s head turned, a large grin breaking out on his small face. It was infectious, a smile breaking out on his face. „Where is Mama?“ Tom asks softly. „Upstairs, Mary has been fussy all morning. Something about teething, Mama said.“ Tom nodded softly. Later he should have a look at how his two girls were fairing.

Simon went on to read his precious comic. Tom sat next to him on the cushion. „What is he doing now?“ „He is fighting Hydra. There is a bad professor who would like to recreate the super soldier serum.“

Tom smiles, reading the last pages with his son before whispering, „I think I saw the next one at the paper stand. Wanna check if it’s there?“ Simon eagerly nodded. Rushing off the couch and racing to the front door. Tom was not far, taking his son’s hand and skipping to the newspaper stand down the road.

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#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett x you #ewanverse #ewan nation #world on fire #tom bennet x reader

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lobinilo · 2 months

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What are your favourite Jonah’s projects? ☺️🎬

~ plays TikTok Sound~

OH MY GOODNESS I LOVE THIS QUESTIOOOONNN

So since May 2023 (what happened there? I have no idea 😉) I've watched everything Jonah-related I could get my hands on (except for Little Women, but I'm definetly going to watch that later this year).

My top 3 Jonah projects OTHER than The Little Mermaid (because truth be told, I think it's pretty clear how obsessed I am with that movie and it's not really a fair comparison to some of the more indepent, even low budget projects Jonah has starred in) so far:

1. World on Fire (2019 - 2023)

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created by: Peter Bowker directed by: Chanya Button, Thomas Napper, Adam Smith, Andy Wilson Jonah plays: Harry Chase

Big shocker, right? Given how much I already rambled about Harry and Kasia (my traumatised parents) and how upset I was when they cancelled it. I will always mourn this show for the huge potential it had.

World on Fire is a BBC-show following different people in Britain, Poland, Germany and France (with some American viewpoints as well) as they have to endure and navigate their life through World War II. Doesnt really sound like anything we haven't seen, right? However, World on Fire is worth checking out imo, since it differs a lot from the usual Hollywood-infused war epics, because rather than focusing on the politics or the big battles, the show looks more closely at the everyday person that actually had to live through this tragedy and how they deal with what's happening. That being said, obviously this is still a show about WW II, so there definitely IS depiction of violence, murder and torture, as well as bombings, gunfire etc., so please be careful if you find any of those things triggering. I personally found some episodes quite hard to get through.

I think it's interesting that Jonah's filmography is very heavy on projects set during or related to WW II (additionally to WoF you have The Song of Names, Ashes in the Snow and ofc coming up The Tattooist of Auschwitz). Theories on why that is are welcome!

Harry Chase (brilliantly brought to life by our favourite British simp) differs quite a bit from many of Jonah's other roles in that he`s not your heroic, clean-cut good guy (like Andrius, Lucas, Mo or Prince Eric). He's insecure and a little helpless, even cowardly at times. Harry starts out as a translator, but later joins the British Army and the SOE. He fucks up repeatedly, both in his role as lieutenant, as well as in his personal life. Even though most of the time he means well, his cowardice ends up hurting a lot of people and leads him to be in the middle of a love triangle. (Though to me it's not a triangle, but rather a straight line, Team Kasia all the way.)

Harry, though deeply troubled, is a very kind and soft soul. That doesn't really pair well with the acts of war, as well as british society in the 1940s in general, which leads to conflict with other characters and their idea of who he should be. Especially when he clashes with his mother Robina (portrayed by the absolute MAGNIFICENT Lesley Manville, shes giving Emily Gilmore in the best way possible), Jonahs acting is ON POINT. His performance is so nuanced: He's angry, he's desperate, he's sad, but also condescending, sarcastic and hostile towards her. The interesting thing about Harry is the journey he takes. To watch him try to better himself by dealing with past trauma and taking responsibility for present mistakes. The real standout for his character is episode 5 of season 1 where he finally steps up and takes charge. This is also when he starts earning the respect of his sergeant Stan (Blake Harrison) for the first time - they have a real bromance, both on and off the show, I LIVE for these two.

But - just like in real life - he doesn't have this one breakthrough moment and everything is smooth sailing from there. He fluctuates, just like a real person would. He still has the tendency to run away from his problems, but I think what he's seen in the war, what happened at home and (yes, I'm making this about my ship) his love for Kasia (Zofia Wichlacz) make him realise the type of man he wants to be and he would probably try to act accordingly IF WE GOT A THIRD SEASON, BBC! 😤😡🤬

2. Old Boys (2018)

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directed by: Toby MacDonald Jonah plays: Henry "Winch" Winchester

If you can only watch one Jonah movie, I beg of you MAKE IT THIS ONE!

I`ve found next to nothing about Old Boys and that seriously has to change. (watched the entire movie again, getting my non-existing gif-making skills ready, just the night before I got this ask, talk about fate)

This movie is so underrated, it doesn't even have a Wikipedia entry. Make it make sense! How is nobody watching this cutie-patootie work of art? Its adorkable in the best sense of the word, it's heartwarming, a little silly and oh! so funny!

It's losely based on the play Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand, set in an all-boys british boarding school in the 1980s. Given the source material, catfishing is definetly a thing here, keep that in mind if you might find that topic difficult.

Alex Lawther's character Amberson (cliché school nerd and victim of bullying) falls in love with the new french teachers daughter Agnes (Pauline Etienne) who in turn has a crush on First-Class-Himbo Winch (portrayed by a beautiful, dimple-faced, british actor). Because Agnes is very artistic and looking for someone that matches her vibe, Amberson helps Winch to try to impress her, because Winch himself is... well... a little dim 😅.

Winch is easily my favourite Jonah character to date (yes, including Prince Eric). I have seriously considered changing my tumblr-name to themightywinch because of him. I mean... he's corteous and punctual, after all 🤣😍.

While not the main character, he's definetly the highlight of the movie. Jonah is likeable, charming, the right kind of awkward in the right moments, has fantastic comedic timing and great chemistry with Alex Lawther.

Just look at that scene alone! IT`S. SO. CUTE!!! (cute-raging over here 😡) Watching this just makes you wish Jonah would star in more comedies, because he definetly has the skills for it! This is just a feel-good movie that leaves you smiling with a warm, fuzzy feeling in your heart. It has easily become one of my new comfort watches. Old Boys just never fails to make me laugh and I wish it would get more attention and recognition since it definetly deserves it! (like at least write a Wikipedia article about it) Btw, I bought this on Prime for 99ct, best money I ever spend!

3. The Last Photograph (2017)

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(the trailer says 2019, but the movie was originally shown at the Edinburgh Film Festival in 2017)

directed by: Danny Huston Jonah plays: Luke Hammond

Fair warning, this movie is gut-wrenching. I don't know if this qualifies as an actual trigger-warning, but this movie deals with the loss of a child/ death of a young person, as well as the real life tragedy of the Pan Am Flight 103 bombed in 1988 so proceed with caution.

Luke Hammond (Dimples McGee) is on said flight to visit his long-distance girlfriend Kate (Stacy Martin) in New York. Kate's and Luke's first meeting is a little awkward imo, I think it's meant to be like a meet-cute, especially with the whole "Bird"-thing, it just doesn't really work for me. But the rest of their love story is very endearing, they're just two young people experiencing love for the first time. Their time together is told through seemingly random, incoherent flashbacks and memories, just giving little glimpses of what their relationship was like and it's the cutest thing. Little intimate touches, hidden smiles, shared laughter... It's shot in a way as if you're watching them through rose-colored glasses, which is probably the point.

I love the way this movie uses different lighting and colour changes to depict a difference in the time line as well as the emotional state of the characters.

We only see Luke in flashbacks (guess why) and follow his dad Tom (Danny Huston) in present day (which in this case means 2003) as he is desperately trying to retrieve the last photograph (hence the titel) he possesses of his son after his bag was stolen. To see Tom slowly losing his grip as he grows more and more desperate to find the picture is truely heartbreaking. (It's a polaroid, so there are no copies, this is truely the last memory he has of Luke. God, I'm tearing up while writing this.)

Because Luke is basically just seen through the memory of his father who obviously holds him in high regard/ romanticizes the idea of his son, he is portrayed in a solely positive light, which usually wouldn't give much dimension to his character. Yet Jonah still manages to fill this role with life and witt and charisma, making you understand why Bird fell for him. He's sweet, romantic, a little bit shy, which works really well here, has the cutest laugh and clearly cares really deeply for his father. He's definetly portrayed as the "you simply have to love him" kinda guy, which is why his absence cuts so deep.

This is also in huge parts due to Danny Huston's performance. Honestly, the sweater-scenes (or jumper, if you're british 😉) almost broke me. And don't even get me started on his letter to Kate or Kate's letter to him... ugh. It's. So. SAD.

This is obviously not for everyday watch. However, even though The Last Photograph is heartbreaking, it doesn't necessarily leave you hopeless and depressed. This movie feels like a loving tribute to an actual person and therefore has a beauty in its melancholy. Throughout Tom's journey there is hope and forgiveness towards himself. There's a beautiful symmetry to the whole thing. The ending feels almost satisfying if you can say that in this context.

I also wanna give a shoutout to This Is The Night (2021). The movie itself isn't that great, it's a little all over the place and I think they tried to do a little too much all at once. But I looo~oooved Jonah in this, Christians character arc is by far the most interesting one and I wish the script gave their character justice in the way Jonah's and Naomi's acting did. (Also this is the HOTTEST he's ever looked which is a bit ironic).

This list is probably going to be outdated soon, since he has a lot coming out in the near future (I'm especially excited for Rich Flu).

Sorry, if this is too long and rambly and if it took too long for me to answer, I got a little carried away and suddenly had a lot of gifs to make 😅.

Thank you soooo much for the ask, @measuredmotion ❤️.

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verypersonalscreencaps · 10 months

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"Harry said you were afraid of strong emotion." LESLEY MANVILLE as Robina Chase WORLD ON FIRE | Season 2 ep.1

#she never disappoints 😄#lesley manville #robina chase #world on fire #gifs:mine

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assortedseaglass · 1 year

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The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Seven

Tom Bennett x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, World On Fire Spoilers

Word Count: 3.7K

Note: I like to imagine the banner is of Tom writing letters in his bunk. Can't wait for Chapter Eight!

November 1939

Dear Tom,

Another letter, I am impressed.

This one almost slipped me by – Dot opened the door when Dennis Warley came by with the post. I wanted to make some new trousers and ordered a pattern from the haberdashers, and it came with your letter. Apparently he said it’s good men don’t want me because dadda has someone to look after him when he’s old. You know what Dot’s like. Cora said she launched herself at Dennis and the post almost wasn’t delivered.

Her and Cora are still at the factory, though missing your Lois and Connie enormously. We had a letter from Albie yesterday. He’s in France now, helping with the refugees from Poland. Luckily he’s not been in too much danger. With them and Albie off in Europe, and you at sea, our world has become a little lonelier.

There was a dance the other night at The Palais, though the women outranked the men by about four to one. Makes a change. There is a great deal less drunkenness and wandering hands, but we do miss you all. And I’d happily exchange Walter Watson. I don’t suppose you’ll have heard about that? Was in France for two weeks and got invalided out. Not shot by the enemy like he told us, worst luck. Albie said in his letter that Walter was having it off with a Polish girl when her father found them. Well, he’s come back with his arm in a sling and is somehow as handsy as ever. Tried to put his hand up my skirt. Even Queenie Warren told him where to go. She’s been ever so down in the mouth since you all left, men were her sole source of entertainment, though I heard her and Frank Smith have been writing.

Cora is blue as well. Her Roger has been training every hour God sends. They’re expecting the RAF to start regular flights, though what, we’re not allowed to know. I suppose, that’s my main news – Roger got me a job at the Air Transport Auxiliary. I’m making planes, constructing the wings mostly. I love the smell of the metal and the oil, and working with my hands. Roberta is here too, though she’s driving the goods vans. Hattie and Jude have left to help the Land Army prepare for spring. They’re not too far away but they work round the clock.

I was listening to the wireless when I got your letter. There have been rumours that the government will ask most women to do war work next year. There goes the hope we’d be down Belle Vue in the spring. I’m glad, though, that the government has realised we are capable of lifting more than a hairbrush and lipstick, even if it has come at the cost of war. We’re more than just objects to colour men’s lives. Perhaps with all this war work, more of us will start wearing trousers and Dennis Warley can piss off. They mentioned rationing, too. Think it’ll affect the likes of Robina Chase more than us, but I don’t think Dadda will manage without sugar in his tea. Heaven forbid they cut eggs and bacon. Of course, that’ll mean no new clothes for a long while. I don’t mind but Dot will be distraught.

Dadda’s been spending a lot of time with yours. They go out on these long walks round the dockyard. Sometimes they even stay up later than me. I can see them in your kitchen, just talking. It did make me laugh the other day – sat there in their chairs by the fire, they look just like Mrs O’Connell and Mrs Flaherty down the road. But then I suppose, they have each other because they lost their husbands. Now, our dads’ have each other because you and Albie have gone.

What is it like there? I want to hear everything. How are the other lads? I hope you’re getting along. There’s a map on the wall at the factory and when I look at all that ocean, I imagine you in a little paper boat skittering across is. There’s not a day that goes by when I don’t think of Albie, and of you. Do you think His Majesty will let you home for Christmas? Good for morale to let his soldiers come home. We’re hoping Albie will.

I had the thought that I should speak in letters from now on. Everyone is always telling me how quiet I am, yet here I’ve been writing pages and pages to you. I know I’m not good at talking, not like the others, but I can say it here – I miss you. Please, for me and for your dad, keep yourself safe. And write again soon.

Your friend,

Bess.

P.S. Make sure you write to Douglas, he’s suffering from missing you both.

Bess placed the finished letter in its envelope and wrote the address.

Tom Bennett

HMS Exeter

c/o Royal Navy Auxiliary

Portsmouth

Once the ink was dry and she had traced her finger over his name once or twice, Bess ate the remaining crust of her toast, drew on her blue jumper and cycled to the Air Transport Auxiliary factory. Straddling the cool metal of the planes as she drove nuts and bolts into their wings, Bess thought of her mother. She and Douglas had been courting during the Great War, but unlike Bess and her sisters, all she had to do with her time was wait. Wait for Douglas to come home with nothing else to occupy her thoughts. Bess was sick with worry, so much so that when she woke in the mornings without the churning of her stomach, she felt something was wrong. It wasn’t until sleep had faded and she remembered the war that the feeling returned, and she felt normal again. These few hours of respite at the factory, while they didn’t sway her fear, certainly calmed her. And who knows where these planes might go? Over the heads of Albie, or Tom, defending them from above? Into sun-kissed clouds, skirting heaven? And here she was, one of the girls making them fly.

By the time Bess finished her shift, grey clouds were low over Manchester and night was descending.

“Do you want a lift honey? Looks like it’s gonna chuck it down.” Roberta asked as they left the hangar. Bess declined, and they went their separate ways. Along with the other women, all covered in dirt and sweat, she meandered towards the factory gate, where a group of jeering men stood in a circle. At their feet, someone was on the floor, scrabbling to reach paper that was blowing away in the wind. As she got closer, Bess saw that they were boys, not yet eighteen perhaps. Except for one. Walter Watson.

“You’re a fucking disgrace,” he was saying to the man on the floor. “Handing out that horse shit.” The boys around Walter laughed. As they did so, the man on the ground stood. He was taller and broader than them, his face craggy with woe and as he turned, Bess saw the weary eyes of Douglas Bennett. She continued walking forward as passers-by ignored the altercation.

“Fucking coward,” one of the boys said. “Stood here selling your fucking peace paper when our lads are out fighting for their lives. For your life!” The youth jabbed bony his finger into Douglas’ chest. Bess was feet from them now, and still Douglas did nothing. It made her proud not to see him back down.

It was easy to infiltrate the circle; she was the smallest of this beastly party and each man was too focused on their abuse of Douglas to notice.

“You know Walter got shot!?”

“That’s not what I heard.”

They froze, and every face turned slowly towards her. Grease streaked her face and she reeked of metal and oil. The hands that had been folded across her chest slipped into her pockets and she leant slightly on one leg, hip jutting just enough to remind them of her womanhood. Some of the younger boys, who knew Bess only by her reputation, swallowed. Walter, who had known Bess long enough to watch her grow from witchy little girl to one of the most bewitching women in Longsight, looked ready to combust. Caught somewhere between anger and fear.

“Our Albert said a Polish fella broke your arm when he caught you balls deep in his daughter.”

Walter spluttered and his gang of underlings remained silent, shocked by the coarseness of her language. Douglas laughed.

“Did he really?” His smile was broad as he looked at Bess and she beamed back. She snatched the papers that Walter held in his hand and passed them to Douglas. Neither spoke and the argument was won; one by one, the boys shuffled home.

When the last of them had disappeared from sight, Douglas spoke. “Thanks, love.” Bess merely shrugged and began walking away. “If you’re heading home I’ll give you a lift.”

“Free bus ticket?” Bess said.

“No,” Douglas laughed quietly, and walked towards the bike resting against the factory wall. “Hop on.” He held the bike still as she perched on the handlebars and leant back against his shoulder. Bess shrieked at the first few wobbly turns of the pedal as Douglas adjusted to both of their weight, but soon, they were racing along the streets of Manchester towards home. “Used to take Lois home like this if she’d had a long shift.”

They were silent for the rest of the journey. Occasionally, they saw someone they knew and Bess would wave. From behind her, Douglas touched his cap. When she hopped of the bike outside her house, she turned to Douglas. “How is Lois getting on?”

“They’re working her hard. It’s an awful lot of toing and froing between camps. But she said she gets a thrill from singing for everyone. Nice to be doing her bit, you know.” He looked at the ground as he spoke, and Bess hummed.

“And Tom?” Bess tried to keep her voice measured.

“Barely hear from him. Last letter said he was on shore leave for a day or two, enjoying himself too much, no doubt”.

“I’m sure they’re fine, they can look after themselves.” He nodded solemnly. “Goodnight, Douglas.”

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

Over the next few weeks Bess developed a routine that, while unable to ease her worry, made the time go faster. It went thus; each morning she arose before her family, as always, and began breakfast. Cora would join her, and together they fed the family before each parting ways to their various jobs. Between nine and five, she worked at the factory. Lunchtimes were taken at the dockyard with Fergal. At five o’clock she helped Douglas Bennett hand out Peace News, and at six he cycled them home. The evenings she wasn’t with Roberta, Hattie and Jude, or repairing clothes (she had taken the task to make a little more money), she spent at the Bennett house. Be it cooking dinners, listening to Douglas’ opinions on the government and the war, or simply sitting in amicable silence, Bess found she increasingly enjoyed his company.

She had always liked Douglas. When the children were little Fergal, Etta, Douglas and Marie had taken them on picnics to Blackpool or Southport. Tom and Albie always ran into the surf and terrorised Cora and Lois. Dot was still small, making sandcastles while Etta and Marie talked the day away. Inevitably, Bess found herself trailing Douglas as he pointed out patterns in the clouds or interesting shells. Even now, Bess was drawn in by the gentle eyes set in his stoic face. The small smiles he offered when something had pleased him. The unshakable sense that maybe, just maybe, Douglas Bennett was the best of men.

Tonight was no different. Bess sat in a chair opposite Douglas, finishing some silk stockings for Queenie Warren. How she had been able to afford them, God only knew, but Bess enjoyed the feel of them slipping over her skin like water. Douglas was reading the newspaper. Every now and then, when Bess paused to rest her eyes, she caught Douglas glancing into the middle distance.

“Memories or visions?” she asked him softly. He sighed and removed his glasses.

“These days, they all blur into one horrible nightmare.” The silence resumed. Bess cast aside the stockings and took Douglas’ hand in hers, gently rubbing it with her thumb. He studied her a moment.

“You’re an odd lass,”

“So people say,”

“And a kind one.” She paused her movements and looked at him. “You should be spending time with people your own age, not barmy old men like me.”

“You’re not old. And I like spending time with you.” It wasn’t a lie. Douglas was a quiet, calm realist much like herself. Perhaps, if she had been born fifty, even thirty years ago, she would have liked him more. A thought occurred to her.

“I think you and Tom are more alike than either of you care to admit.”

Douglas huffed by way of a reply, then spoke. “He’s more like his mother than me. They both are. I don’t suppose you remember our Marie too much?”

“I remember her laugh, and that mam loved her.”

“Yeah,” he smiled and looked at Bess’ hand stroking his own. “Everyone did.” He paused once more before continuing. “What if Tom ends up like me, Bess?”

“What do you me-”

“What if he comes back from this God-awful war a shadow of himself? He’s so bright and full of life, like his mother, what if it disappears? If he comes back at all-”

Bess thought about her next words carefully. “We can’t know if they’ll come back. Tom, Lois or Albie. But we can live in the knowledge that death won’t diminish our devotion to them. You and I may not agree with war, but they’ve gone not because they blindly followed everyone else, but because they want to defend those who can’t defend themselves. And I am so proud of them. My Albie, and Lois and Tom.”

They were silent for a while as Douglas considered her words. Then, quite unexpectedly, he kissed her hand and placed his own on her cheek. The image of his son flashed across his face and Bess blushed.

“Off you go, Bess. Your family will be missing you.” The abruptness of their evening’s end took Bess by surprise, but she gathered her sewing, kissed Douglas’ cheek and left.

Dot was warming her feet by the fire when she opened the door. Cora was reading next to her.

“Dadda’s down the pub,” Dot spoke without looking up. “But you’ve stolen his drinking partner.” Cora pushed Dot’s leg with her foot, not looking up from her book.

“What do you mean, Dot?” Bess was in no mood to argue. Dot looked her sister dead in the eye.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Douglas.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not proper,”

“For God’s sake,”

“All these men on the go,”

“Me and Douglas are not ‘on the go’. And which men!?”

“There’s a letter on the bed for you.”

Bess’ heart stopped. “A letter?”

“Yes. Another letter.” Dot tried to sound aloof but her need for gossip got the better of her and she sat up in the chair. “Who’s writing to you, Bess? That man Tom punched?” She received no answer, for Bess was racing up the stairs to their bedroom. The letter was set against her pillow, and at seeing the familiar scrawl of her name, her heart leapt. Bess ripped open the envelope and found her seat in the window.

Dear Bess,

Thanks for your letter. Your writing is doing wonders for my reputation – the other boys don’t get half as many as I do, and most of them are from their mams. We’ve got a wall full of pictures that girls have sent the lads. Fancy sending one to add? Maybe you all oiled up at the factory. Lot of lonely sailors in need of entertainment, and God knows ENSA won’t be sent out here.

I wish I could be down The Palais. Not because I miss the dancing mind. We’ve not seen a woman for weeks and the thought of them all dancing together makes me weak in a way that has nothing to do with my sea legs. Tell us about it in your next letter, with all the details. Which reminds me, lay off Queenie Warren. I know she’s annoying but she means well. I don’t think you know how intimidating The Vaughn Sisters are!

I’m writing this as we come into dock. Can’t tell you where exactly we are, for obvious reasons, but I’m looking forward to putting my feet on solid ground for a few days. Resupply means shore leave. I know you’d spend it looking in museums, walking and hunting down fabric, but for sailors it’s a different game altogether. It’ll be straight to the pub for rum and beer, before hitting the town. All hands on deck there, if you see what I mean.

I’m getting along with the other lads just fine, thank you for your confidence. I’ve got plans to spend shore leave with Vic and Norman. Vic’s Mancunian too, reminds me a bit of your Albie. Head screwed on proper and he’d have your back in a fight. You’d like him. Norman’s a little green, but Vic and I will put him right. Said we’d bring him to Longsight when we’re home, I have a feeling Dot would eat him up. He’d love it. She likes a fella she can boss around doesn’t she, your Dot? Norman will probably bring Terry along – he’s the wireless operator. Wouldn’t say boo to a goose, which is unfortunate considering he’s in the navy.

You’ll be glad to hear I’ve kept out of trouble, though Campbell and Ginger have me contemplating the many uses of hawser every now and again. Campbell’s First Officer, decent enough bloke but he’s a posh twat. Doesn’t know how to speak to us but God, he does try. Ginger’s actually called Henry. From the East End and thinks he’s a real geezer. Always bossing Norman around and lording it over the rest of us – he was an Able Seaman before the war so even though we’re all the same rank he thinks he can give us orders. No-one would care if I pushed him off the dock so I might give it a go. Burn this letter in case they catch me, it’s evidence.

Sounds like Walter has had all hands on deck too. Surprised he managed to pull a girl, didn’t think the bloke could kick his way out of a wet paper bag. I have half a mind to kill him before the Jerries do. If his arm hasn’t healed by the time I get back, you’d better tell him to watch out. Dennis Warley too. Don’t think he’s one to comment on what people look like when the rat-faced pillock hasn’t touched a woman since he came out the womb. I wouldn’t change you for the world, Bess, and anyone would be lucky to have you by their side whether that’s your dad or your husband.

Look after yourself, and give a kiss to Cora and Dot for me.

Tom.

p.s. I’ve written to dad.

Bess reread the letter, trying to hunt out any details she might have missed. She couldn’t help but be disappointed by Tom’s letters. They were never as long as hers, and he refrained from telling her anything of substance, just the goings on of the ship. It wasn’t like their evenings in the kitchen, when he’d tell her everything. Perhaps, he needed the silence and Bess supposed he couldn’t send her a blank page to signal his internal thoughts. She tucked the letter in a book, kissed the picture of Tom she kept in its pages, ignored her visions of Tom in the arms of a strange woman while on shore leave, and wandered downstairs.

“So? Who’s your fancy man?” Cora looked up at Dot’s question.

“Who says it’s a man?” Dot looked annoyed at her sister’s answer but said nothing, switching on the wireless to fill the silence.

“Warsaw now lies in ruins, while Germany and Russia continue to carve out Poland between them. At sea, the Royal Navy are focusing their efforts on scouring the South Atlantic in search of the notorious German pocket battleship Admiral Graf Spee. Rumoured to be somewhere off the coast of Argentina, the deadliest of Hitler’s Kriegsmarine has been involved in a number of skirmishes with merchant ships. There is a feeling that the Allied Forces are simply hoping that the inevitable will never come to pass-”

“Tom’s out that way, isn’t he?” Cora said softly.

Bess nodded. “Somewhere, yes.” The three sisters were silent, portraits of Albie and Etta looking down at them from the mantel as they waited for Fergal to arrive home. Across the road, Douglas switched off his own wireless, donned his cap and made his way to the pub. Bess watched him through the window as he made his way down the street, and her stomach gave a lurch. All these lonely souls left at home, severed from their loved ones with no knowing if or when they’d see them again. The horrors of war were unimaginable, but nobody talks about the living dead left behind.

Note: Happy Easter everyone! Sorry this chapter has taken a while, I’ve been so busy! I know some people reading this haven’t seen WoF (you should) – Douglas is a bus conductor. We’re with Tom A LOT for the next chapter 😊 While my paternal grandmother made munitions, my maternal grandmother (a seamstress) made planes – glad to have given the girls the same jobs as my grandmas’. The Palais, where Bess goes dancing, was where my Grandma used to go too. World on Fire is so intertwined with my family due to where it is set, it makes my heart sing! Here is my maternal grandmother looking fantastic.

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#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #tom bennett x ofc #ewan mitchell x reader #world on fire #the seamstress & the sailor

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