Authors: Anne Bennett
Kate was suddenly very still for she hadn't expected that. She didn't want to get married in any register office; she wanted at least a marriage in church, and she also knew if she was to do as David asked, she would not be married in the eyes of the Catholic Church and they would regard her as living in sin. She fought with the image of what she wanted and the reality of living in a country on the verge of war, which might mean things had to be done in a different way. Surely what mattered at the end of the day was that they would be legally married as far as the law of the land went, and so she nodded her head. âAll right, then. If that's what you want.'
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It was a very quiet wedding on Saturday 12 August, and when she woke that morning she was feeling quite dispirited about the whole business, but she kept those feelings to herself lest David feel bad encouraging her to make do with such a shabby performance. Whenever she had visualized her wedding, she had been dressed in a flowing white dress in a church attended by family and friends and possibly her sister and her cousins, Geraldine, Maggie and Bridget, as bridesmaids.
However, for this wedding she had bought a navy-and-white costume at C&A Modes, and with it she wore silk stockings, navy court shoes with a higher heel
than usual and a navy hat with veil. A smallish posy of flowers was all that the florist could make up at such short notice. She was despondent about the whole thing, she couldn't deny it, but tried to keep her thoughts to herself, especially in front of Susie and Sally, who came round the evening before the wedding. She paraded her outfit in front of them and, though they praised her choice of clothes and said she looked fine, she could sense their disappointment.
Still, they were both round in the morning before the wedding to help Kate dress and fashion her hair in a sort of coronet that looked a treat with the hat she had bought, and Kate was glad to have her friend and sister beside her, given that her stomach was behaving most strangely. She really needed their steadying influence. And she was never more grateful for this than when she stepped out of the taxi and came face to face with Alf and Dora Burton waiting for her at the bottom of the steps of the register office.
Kate hadn't seen either of them since that last awful day she had called round with David a few months before, though David had been on his own since to tell them of his marriage. She was a little nervous to see them there because David hadn't been at all sure that they were going to turn up, and Sally and Susie flanking Kate were well aware of how she was feeling. However, the couple were more pleasant than she had ever known them, even though Dora said, âI'm glad at any rate you were sensible and got that costume, which is more serviceable altogether and better than a wedding dress you'll never wear again.'
Kate knew she was probably right, but she didn't
really want to wear clothes described as serviceable on her wedding day. âDo I look all right?'
âOh, you look far better than just all right, girl,' Alf said. âOur David is a lucky man and I hope he appreciates that.'
âI agree with that,' Susie said, and Sally nodded vigorously. âYou look beautiful, Kate, you really do.'
âThere'll be a rush of weddings soon, you wait and see,' Alf said to her. âJust like it was in the last lot. Soon as war's official, like, there'll be loads of couples want to be married before they are parted.'
âThat's why we did it in a rush,' Kate said. âDavid said he's not waiting to be called up. He wants to join the RAF. But do you think there is no way now of averting war?'
âCan't see how,' Alf said. âWe promised to go to Poland's aid and Hitler's armies are massing on the border. Only a matter of time, I think.'
âAnyway,' Dora said, âthese aren't the thoughts that you should be having on your wedding day.'
Then suddenly Mary Mason was by her side, squeezing her arm, and Susie â knowing her mother maybe wanted a quiet word with Kate â moved away with Sally and Dora. Alf followed them. Kate was suddenly overcome with emotion for this lovely lady who had mothered her since she had arrived in Birmingham, and who she knew was disappointed at this slightly shoddy wedding, for she had seen that in her eyes. She knew she only wanted better for her because she cared about her, and Kate felt tears pricking her eyes as she hugged Mary tight, taking no heed of her protests that she would crush her clothes.
Mary felt dampness on the shoulder of her outfit, though, and heard the slight sniffly noises Kate was making. âYou're not crying, are you?' she demanded. âOh, my dear girl,' she exclaimed, dabbing at Kate's face with a white lacy hanky. âThat husband of yours will have my guts for garters if he thinks I've been upsetting you.'
âYou haven't.'
âGood, because you are very dear to us, you know,' Mary said. âOh, now don't start again. You mustn't cry at your own wedding. You let others do the crying for you on that day. Now, are you ready? Because they will all be waiting and you look so very beautiful. David will be bowled over by the sight of you.'
Kate was glad to have had those few words with Mary, because when she went into the room where the wedding was to take place, she thought it a most depressing place. It was stark and bare, and chairs were arranged in rows in front of a table at the far end. David and Nick, his best man, were in the front row, and, hearing the door open, David turned. The breath stopped in his throat at Kate's simple beauty as she stood framed in the doorway for a few minutes on the arm of Frank Mason.
Kate's eyes caught David's and she was suddenly filled with love for the man waiting for her, so that she felt as though she might explode with happiness and the room no longer mattered. She concentrated her gaze on the man standing waiting for her, and found it was hard to walk respectably and sensibly at Frank's side. When she reached David, their eyes seemed to fuse together; as their hands touched, she felt tingling all over her
body. Suddenly the only important thing to her was that she was being married to this man that she loved so very, very much.
And, after a few words, said and repeated in that bare room, David and Kate were man and wife, and David took Kate in his arms. âI love you, Mrs Burton,' he said.
Kate was unable to answer because David's lips descended on hers and she gave herself up to the enjoyment of it. The small wedding party went off to a room in a pub nearest the register office and Kate was able at last to thank all those who had come. Sally had brought Ruby Reynard. âI love a good wedding,' she told Kate, who noticed she had a handkerchief rolled up in her hand. Seeing Kate noticed this, she said, âI nearly always cry at weddings. Phil used to tease me about it. He said I wouldn't feel I'd enjoyed myself if I hadn't had a good old cry.'
âAnd how did mine measure up, Ruby?' Kate asked with a smile.
âOh, I shed tears at yours, my dear,' Ruby admitted. âBut you'll be all right because you have a good man there.'
âI know,' Kate said.
âDavid was saying that none of your people were able to make it,' Dora said to Kate as she appeared by her side. âTerrible shame that.'
âYes,' Kate said, âbut it's difficult to leave the farm in the summertime.'
âAh, yes, it must be,' Dora said.
But to Susie, Kate told the truth, and she stared at her as if she couldn't comprehend it. âYou never even
told them you were getting married?' she repeated incredulously.
âWhat was the point?' Kate said. âWhat I told Dora was partially true anyway, because this is a busy time on any farm.'
The real reason, though, was because she couldn't think of a way to tell her mother that she was being married in a register office, which to them would mean no marriage at all. But it was a marriage, she told herself, and the only one that she was ever going to have.
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Kate loved being married to David. They had had two days in Blackpool, where the sun shone down from a cornflower-blue sky. The first day they strolled along the sands, hand in hand, and paddled their feet at the water's edge. Kate had never owned a bathing costume in her life, and anyway she thought she might feel embarrassed taking her clothes off. She didn't mind slipping her shoes off, though, and paddling along feeling her toes curl over the small pebbles, or sink in the soft sand, David beside her doing the same with his trousers turned up to his knees.
Sometimes they just sat and watched the world go by, the children making endless sandcastles and trying to fill the moat; they smiled at their consternation when their buckets of water seeped through the sand, or they watched them squealing with excitement as they rode the donkeys. âIsn't this a grand place for children?' Kate remarked.
âMmm,' David said, lying back on the rug they had brought. âSomeday we'll bring our children here.'
âYou want children then?'
David opened his eyes a crack and peered at Kate. âCourse,' he said. âDon't you?'
âThese are the sort of questions that we should have asked before we decided to get married,' Kate said.
âYou mean you don't want children?' David said incredulously.
âI mean I'm joking,' Kate said. âDon't know that there is any way of stopping them anyway, if we continue to get up to the shenanigans that we got up to last night.'
âDidn't hear you complaining.'
âI didn't,' Kate said. âAnd I'm not complaining now either, just making a comment.'
âIt's just that there are ways of preventing pregnancy,' David said.
âNot for a Catholic,' Kate said. âBirth control is forbidden.'
âThank God, I'm not a Catholic then,' David said. âFor much as I want children, I don't want the body pulled out of you with a baby every year, and if I have to wear something then I will. But it's too hot for discussions like this. Let's go and find someone selling ice creams.'
Kate followed behind David, but thoughts were tumbling in her head. David wasn't a Catholic right enough, but she was, so was it still a sin for her to have sex, knowing that he was using something to prevent pregnancy? She wasn't sure and couldn't really ask. She would be embarrassed talking about sex with anyone, let alone a priest. She would just have to follow her conscience.
âPenny for them,' David said, jerking her back to the
present. She turned and took the cornet that he offered her and then said with a coy smile, âMy thoughts are worth more than a mere penny, I'll have you know, David Burton.'
But she didn't offer to share them, because she decided that she wouldn't waste a minute more on a problem that was hers alone, and when David said, âShall we make for the fair?' she nodded her head eagerly.
Kate screamed her way round the Big Dipper, nearly had a heart attack in the Ghost Train, was made deliciously dizzy on the Carousel and the Waltzers, bruised to bits on the Bumper Cars and laughed herself silly in the Hall of Mirrors. They had fish and chips with bread and butter and as much tea as they wanted in one of the cafés along the front and then ate candy floss on the way home to the boarding house. And all the way back it was as if bubbles of joy were inside Kate, for she had never felt such happiness before and her only wish was that the future that lay before them was not marred by the rumblings of war.
By the time Kate and David came back from their honeymoon, preparations for war had gathered momentum, and when they went to Brookvale Park on their usual Sunday-afternoon jaunt, they found great ditches had been dug just along the park's perimeter. Kate looked at them with distaste. âWhy are we so concerned with Poland, with any of them?' she asked. âI mean, this is all happening miles away. Why should it affect us?'
âBecause of the type of man Hitler is, I suppose,' David said. âI don't for one moment think that a man who has been amassing armaments and training servicemen for years will be satisfied with Poland. He will turn next to Belgium, Holland too maybe, and then France â and we are just a short Channel hop away from France. He has got to be stopped somewhere along the line. Surely you can see that?'
Kate sighed. âI can, of course, but I don't really want to see it,' she said. âI want to stick my head in the sand and let life go on without me, and I will resurface again when life is very much more peaceful.'
David laughed. âCan't do that,' he said. âIt will be all hands to the pump when hostilities do start.'
âAnd you still intend to enlist?'
David nodded. âThere is no way of getting out of it. It would only postpone the inevitable because I would be called up anyway. This way, I at least can go into the RAF as I want to.'
âYou will be in so much danger then,' Kate said. âEvery paper you open says that this war will be won in the air.'
David nodded. âI think it will too,' he said. âYou only have to look at what German planes did to Guernica a couple of years ago to see just how powerful the Luftwaffe, his Air Force, are.'
âAnd what he is capable of,' Kate said, and she remembered the photographs in the papers, of the distressed people in shock and disbelief, looking at the mounds and mounds of rubble that was what their town had been reduced to, the streets littered with bodies. The thought of that happening in the streets of Birmingham, in any part of Great Britain, made her feel sick, and she looked at David and said, âYou think they are going to bomb us like that?'
âI certainly think they will try,' David said. âAnd I imagine the RAF will do their damnedest to stop them, but in case any get through, I suppose they have got to try and protect the civilian population as much as they can.'
It seemed that David was right, because the next day on her way to work, Kate passed a brick-built structure that she couldn't remember seeing before. It was like no building she had ever seen because it had no windows
at all â at least in what she could see of it, because it was almost completely lagged with sandbags. âWhat on earth is that?' she asked Susie as she approached.
âSurface-built shelter,' Susie said. âThe kids were filling up the sandbags all day yesterday.' Kate studied them as she passed. They seemed solid enough and yet she wondered how well they would stand up to bombs hurtling through the air, and she gave a sudden shudder at the thought.
Susie didn't notice because she wanted to hear Kate's news. âSo how's married life? It certainly seems to sit well on you.'
âMarried life is great, Susie,' Kate said. âWhy didn't you and Nick make it a double wedding?'
âMom and Dad wouldn't hear of it,' Susie said. âI did mention it and I know they can't actually stop me, but they can make life extremely difficult; you know how it is. I didn't want to upset them. Anyway, while you were away they relented enough to let us get engaged.'
âHave you a ring?' Kate asked, because Susie's left hand was unadorned.
âYeah,' Susie said. âBut not one I wear for work. We'll pop round and see you later and you can have a proper butcher's.'
âI'd love that,' said Kate, âbut what about marriage though?'
âThey said no marriage till the end of hostilities,' Susie said disgustedly. âGod alone knows when that will be. Mom said she saw a lot of wartime romances that foundered in peacetime. Marry in haste and repent at leisure sort of thing.'
âHeaven only knows what she thinks of me then.'
âShe loves you, Kate, you know that,' Susie said. âAnd in a way she feels sorry for you.'
âSorry for me?' Kate said, bristling. âThere's no need for anyone to be sorry for me.'
âYou couldn't have been pleased with the wedding,' Susie said. âMy parents want me to have a proper wedding in church, even if I am marrying a Protestant.'
âI doubt my parents would ever have been that welcoming to David wherever I married him,' Kate said. âBut you asked me if I was disappointed with my wedding, and I will just say this: I realized that how you get married doesn't matter. It's not the fancy clothes and food and razzmatazz, or even the white dress; it's marrying the man you love in any way that suits you. If war is declared tomorrow, I will still be glad that I had this precious time with David.'
A lump rose in Susie's throat at Kate's words and, after a moment, she said, âAnd I will regret not having that same special time with Nick. You're right, Kate. No one should feel sorry for you.'
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There was an announcement on the wireless after the seven o'clock news, which they always turned on as they got ready for work, reminding them that the blackout was to come into force on 1 September.
Kate's eyes met David's as she cried, âOh God, with the wedding and honeymoon and everything, this sort of slipped my mind â or, if I'm honest, I didn't want to remember it. How stupid is that, because if we haven't got blackout curtains or shutters at the windows in four days' time we will be fined two hundred pounds. I'd
better go down the Bull Ring after work and see what I can pick up. Hope they still have stuff I can use. It will cost something to curtain this lot â and how on earth will I get it done in time?'
âI can make shutters for some of the windows and that will save time and material,' David said. âYou get what you can and I will have a hunt round for the bits to make the shutters.'
âOh, David, thanks,' Kate said. âThat's a real load off my mind.'
She told Susie on the way to work, who was amazed she hadn't even started on the blackout curtains. âMom will help,' she said. âI know she will, because she has done it for other people â she has that sewing machine Dad bought her at Christmas.'
Kate knew all about Mary Burton's sewing machine. She had turned out lots of things using it, starting with curtains and straight things, but going on to make dresses for herself and Susie.
âI don't know,' Kate said. âI mean, it's a bit of a cheek.'
âDon't see why when she's done it for others,' Susie said.
âAre you sure she won't mind?' Kate asked anxiously.
âAbsolutely sure.'
And that is what Kate told David when she arrived home later that night with a bale of black cloth. âWasn't that thoughtful of Susie. Her mother is very like that, you know: really helpful to everybody.'
âThe Masons are a nice family,' David said. âEveryone says so. Anyway, I was having a look before you came in. I have got enough wood and fixings to do shutters for the kitchen windows and the bedroom, but there
are two sizable windows in the living room and I think curtains would be better there.'
And while Kate was helping David measure up the windows she suddenly said, âBut it's not just the curtains, is it? I mean, how are people to go about in the pitch-black?'
David shrugged. âSearch me,' he said. âI think that we're going to have to get used to things we never had to do before, because there was another announcement on the wireless before you got in tonight.'
âOh, what other delights are being planned for us?'
âIn a word, gas masks!'
Kate turned an aghast face to David and repeated, âGas masks?'
âYes, gas masks,' David said. âEvery man, woman and child has to have one and carry it with them at all times.'
âOh God,' Kate said. âI don't relish wearing one of those.'
âNeither do I, to be honest, but it's probably better than being gassed to death.'
âYeah, but just how likely is that?'
âI don't know,' David said, âand probably neither does anyone else, but the Germans used gas in the last war. I suppose they can't take the risk. Anyway, the announcer said there will be various collection points organized, and you can pick your gas masks up from those from the first of September as well.'
âThat certainly seems to be a very important date in the calendar,' Kate said, picking up the parcel and shoving the measurements into her pocket. âBut just for now I'd best take these before it gets too late.'
Mary Mason was only too pleased to help Kate, and said as they were only straight seams she could have them done for her the next day. âI'm ever so grateful, Mrs Mason.'
âThat's all right, Kate,' Mary said. âWe all have to pull together, it seems to me, and between the two of us I really love using the machine. So if you call in tomorrow, I will have the curtains ready for you.'
And she did, and Kate went home and hung them straight away. She felt depressed to see such hideous black curtains at the windows; the only consolation was that everybody else would be in the same boat.
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On Friday, after work, Kate and Susie went to get their gas masks. They too were hideous, and when the woman showed them how to put them on, Kate thought the smell was obnoxious. Susie felt the same and she ripped hers off again almost immediately. âGod, they smell vile.'
âYou might be glad of that mask, smell and all, before you are much older,' the woman chided. Kate tugged her mask off too, as Susie said, âWell, let me tell you something. They would have to be pretty certain gas was heading our way before I would put this mask near my face. And another thing, I could hardly breathe when I had it on. You can't tell me that that's a healthy way to be.'
âI couldn't breathe either,' agreed Kate. âThe Germans don't really have to send the gas â just threaten to, and we'd all be asphyxiated in our masks.'
The woman obviously didn't appreciate their levity, and this amused the girls still further; they left her frowning in disapproval and went out with the gas
masks hung around their necks in the boxes supplied. âI think humour will be all that we have left,' Kate said as they made their way home. âWhen war comes, life will be tougher for all of us. I mean, it's light enough to come home now, but can you imagine what it will be like trying to get to work and back in the pitch-black?'
âYeah,' Susie said, âit will be murder. I agree with you â humour and laughter will be all we have to make life worth living.'
âIt's true,' said Kate. âAnd now let's run for that tram because I have got to cook the tea when I get in and I am as hungry as a hunter now, and I can't see anything funny in that at all.'
When she got home, though, David told her not to bother cooking and said that he would go out for fish and chips. Kate felt her mouth watering at the thought and she said, âOoh, David, that will be lovely. What were you doing when I came in?'
âPutting tape across the windows,' David said. âIt was a government recommendation to prevent flying glass in case of an air raid.'
Kate felt an icy thread run down her spine as she said, âDavid, war hasn't been declared yet.'
âMight as well be,' David said grimly. âIt came through on the news earlier. Hitler's armies have invaded Poland and the Poles are fighting for their lives. The prime minister is speaking on the wireless on Sunday morning, just after eleven.'
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That Sunday, Sally and Ruby Reynard came to the flat to listen to the prime minister's speech as they had no
wireless of their own â and anyway, Kate had wanted Sally with her. Never had the time passed so slowly, or the eleven chimes of Big Ben sounded so loud, and eventually the waiting, anxious people heard the voice of Neville Chamberlain:
I am speaking to you from the cabinet room at Ten Downing Street. This morning the British ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note, stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received and that consequently this country is at war with Germany â¦
There was more about how sorry Chamberlain was and how hard he had tried to avoid conflict and that he was sure that all Britons would play their part with calmness and courage. Kate knew that David would do just that, and join the RAF as soon as he could, and she felt him stiffen with resolve beside her. In contrast, Sally's face was chalk white and Ruby Reynard began to sob. Kate felt sorry for both of them, for they knew that Phil would now be in the forefront of the fighting.
David knew it too and he said, âI often think that it's harder for those waiting at home than the servicemen themselves. Kate will be joining those ranks soon, because I am enlisting as soon as I am able.'
âYou want to join the RAF, don't you?' Sally said, and David gave a nod. âAnd so does Nick. We will go first thing tomorrow, because you get more choice if you enlist rather than wait to be called up.'
âWon't you be scared up in the air in one of those little planes?' Ruby asked.
However, before David was able to answer her, a horrendous sound rent the air, a sound Birmingham was going to become very familiar with. For a moment no one really knew what to do, and then David said, âLet's go down to the cellar. It's bound to be safer than here.'
The others were only too glad someone had taken charge, and they pounded down the stairs, as others were coming out of their flats on the second floor and the first, obviously with the same idea as themselves. When they reached the cellar it was to find the Donovan family already there. Apprehension or pure naked fear was written across every face and they waited, listening intently for the sound of bombs. But nothing happened, and after a few minutes more, another siren blasted out. âAll Clear,' George Donovan grumbled. âBloody false alarm.'