He disembarked the ferry and took a deep breath. Managing the dock, he shifted around the others trying to reach their family members and smiled so broadly it split his face when he caught sight of the tiny old woman waiting at the back of the crowd. Her eyes finally fell on him and she threw her arms wide so he could catch her in a bear hug that lifted her off the ground.

"Johnny!"

"Mum!" When he finally let her down their hands stayed connected, as if afraid the other might vanish should they let go. "How are you?"

"Well as can be expected."

"I was so worried for you."

"I'm made of stronger stuff than they are." She tapped the side of her nose, "You know us Bateses, built to last. It's the Irish in the blood."

"Scottish too no doubt."

"No doubt. If anyone knows about survival under years of tyranny it's the Scots." She went for his bag but he stopped her. "You won't let your dear old mother spoil her son when he's come home the conquering hero from war?"

"Not when it's nothing but dirty laundry and a few souvenirs." John smiled, slinging the strap over his shoulder. "I'm sure you've got other ways to spoil me so I won't be disappointed."

"You're not wrong there." She slipped her thin arm through his, "It feels good to have you home. Better even that it is to speak English and have everything in English again."

John turned his head to view the street about them before addressing his mother, "Was it that bad?"

"Not as bad as some had it but I wouldn't do it over again in a hurry if that's what you mean."

"Then you're adjusting well?"

She shrugged, "The time change's a bit rough but we'll overcome. It's what we do."

"Keep calm and carry on?"

"Exactly."

He paused, "I heard you almost starved here."

"We found our way through it." She took a deep breath, "Thank God for the Red Cross and the angels who work in its ranks, that's all I've got to say and they'll be getting a pretty penny from me every year until I die, you mark my words."

"Mum-"

"We're alive and that's all that matters." She nudged him, "And what about you? What as it like for you?"

"Not sure how much I can actually tell you." John bit at his lip, grinning when his mother swiped at his head. "What I can say is that I served in what they're calling the 'Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare'."

"Shortsheeting beds and tripping up your enemy at the ankles?"

"Something like that." John lowered his voice, "We were Churchill's Special Operations Executive."

"They had you everywhere. Your letters, from the parts I could read through the black they laced over them, smelled like every country in Europe and some in Asia."

"How would you know what a country smells like? You've only ever been between Belfast, London, and Saint. Anne's."

"I buy books for my shop from all over the world, as you well know, and I know the smell of the paper." She winked at him, "You'll get to know it too."

"Then you'll give me the shop?"

"Give you?" She scoffed, "I'd sooner cut off my right arm then simply had over my shop to anyone. You'll apprentice, like I did, and learn how to manage the place."

"I already know how to manage it."

"Times have changed Johnny and we're not going to miss out on them." She tugged him down a street, "Now, you mentioned a friend in your division. Some Flying Officer Lee or whatever."

"Christopher?"

"That's the one." She shuddered, "From his picture I wanted nothing more than to sit that man at my table and stuff him until his form filled out. He was so gaunt if he stood sideways he'd vanish right before a stiff wind blew him away."

"He was more durable than you make him sound." John laughed, "We served in the Long-Range Desert Patrol before we got recruited and he saved my life at least three times."

"Then the moment you can get him here do it. I'm stuffing that boy to bursting for saving my son."

"I'll write him." John took a deep breath, closing his eyes a moment. "I've missed this smell."

"I didn't think you were here long enough to appreciate it."

"I appreciate more than you think." John hugged his mother close, "I worried about you."

"And I prayed for you." She narrowed her eyes at him, "I hope you're about to tell me, John Bates, that you kept up with your prayers."

"God and I've got an understanding."

"John-"

"It is what it is." John held up his hands, "I think I'm still working on finding my feet about finding Him and that's all I can do."

"You'll leave your poor old mother to weep at the gates of Saint Peter for you because you won't let yourself get in?"

"I'd do no such thing." John smirked, "I'd climb the gate."

"John Bates!"

They laughed a moment, falling back in step as they walked up the street. "I heard about all the conscientious objectors here."

"I hope you didn't think I'd be one of them."

"The men I served with didn't exactly have nice things to say about the Irish." John winced, "Convinced they left us hanging out to dry."

"Then they can go hang themselves because they fell into the same trap everyone else did in this war." She pulled her shawl closer around her, "Just like the last war."

"What'd you mean?"

"They assume that because you might identify with a certain group you are that group." She stopped, holding a finger up to him, "Being Irish by blood doesn't mean I didn't support the fight against the Nazis and all they stood for. But people like groups in war. It helps them feel vindicated about not having emotions for the individuals. Helps them kill a faceless enemy instead of a person."

"Mum," John looked at the ground before meeting her eyes, "I killed the enemy."

"Everyone's got to serve their country Johnny." She took his arm again, "I wish the time for recriminations were over and we could go back to trying to love our neighbors."

"Guess you wouldn't have been a conscientious objector."

"I haven't conscientiously objected anything since the Great War." She sighed, "You can't object anything when you're seen everyone you know die."

"I heard about those who died here. They said ten total."

"Three of them were those Jewish girls." His mother sniffed, "They sent them to a death camp and there's been no word. We're all sure they died there."

"I heard the Americans took pictures of what they saw there." John snorted, "They're convinced that people would say it never happened but how could anyone forget that kind of thing?"

"They forgot what we lost the last time we all decided to lob our men and bombs at one another." Mrs. Bates drew a key from her pocket and stopped in front of a bookshop. "But that's why they burned books. To make people forget."

"I guess you had something to say about that."

"I had quite a few things to say about that." She pushed the door open, "But now you'll have to say things about it."

John flipped the sign on the door and then paused when he heard a noise from above him. He pointed upward and his mother laughed, taking her place behind the desk. "Those are our tenants."

"Tenants?" John worked around a precariously stacked pile of books, resting his bag on a chair. "When did you take tenants?"

"There was only me John." She shrugged, "I like having the company and she helps me run the shop."

"She?"

"Anna," Mrs. Bates gave an exasperated sigh, "Honestly did you read none of my letters."

"I read them." John insisted, "But I don't remember you mentioning taking tenants or someone to help with the shop. What do you need me for if you've already got someone?"

"She's only here a few hours a day." Mrs. Bates arranged a few books, "She's a children's book artist so she spends most of her time doing that but she needed few extra marks and I offered her the position part time."

"Marks?"

Mrs. Bates stopped herself, "I guess they'll be getting those out of circulation now."

"They'd need to." John turned at the sound of a pair of feet thumping down the steps. He jumped when a small girl whipped past him and into his mother's arms. She giggled as Mrs. Bates scooped her up, peppering her with kisses, and then rested the blonde headed nymph on her hip.

"John, meet Katie-Anne."

"Hello." John offered his hand but the girl just grinned and buried her head in Mrs. Bates's neck. "Shy then?"

"I think it's your uniform." John turned and locked his jaw to stop it dropping at the sight of the woman standing there. "She's not much for the military."

"I should hope not." John shuffled to the side, "I'm hoping we've got no more use for it myself."

"It did it's job or else we wouldn't be free now." The woman offered John her hand, "I'm Anna Smith, the tenant upstairs."

"John Bates…" John snuck a look at his mother, "Apprentice shop owner, apparently."

"She's very efficient that way." Anna took her hand back, "I do hope we weren't disturbing you in any way."

"No," John waved a hand. "It's nothing. I'm just not used to noises that mean life is going on like normal."

"I imagine that'd be hard."

"I can manage."

"Of course you can." Anna held her arms out and Mrs. Bates handed Katie-Anne back. "Ms. Catherine Anne this is our new friend Mr. Bates and I hope you'll be as polite to him as you are to Mrs. Bates here."

The little girl nodded, her hair mere wisps on the slight breeze. "Yes Mummy."

"Good." Anna turned back to the stairs, "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Bates and it's wonderful to have you back. Mrs. Bates talks of nothing else but you."

John coughed, "I'm sure I'm not that interesting."

"It was interesting enough for me." Anna nodded at him, "Good afternoon."

"Afternoon." John watched her go up the stairs and only moved when his mother swatted his arm with a pamphlet. "Ow."

"It's not polite to stare, Johnny."

"I wasn't staring."

"Um hm." She turned back to the front desk, "I'm sure you weren't."

"I wasn't."

"Lying's a sin John."

"Then it's a good thing God and I are working things out." John grabbed his bag, "He won't mind."

"John!"