Molly's War (34 page)

‘I’ll do anything for you, my love,’ he’d whispered in her ear. ‘Anything at all.’ And Molly was beginning to believe it.

So she walked along Newgate Street towards the Register Office, past the Chapel where another wedding was in progress. She could hear the choir singing Charles Wesley’s great hymn ‘Love Divine All Loves Excelling’ and knew it was a wedding. A chapel wedding, that was what she had always dreamed of, Molly thought with only a faint twinge of regret. The important thing was to marry the one you loved, she told herself. And she loved Jackson. Oh, yes, she did.

He was waiting for her on the pavement outside the office, he and Harry. They kissed and made introductions, and Harry looked sadly at Mona’s mother who glanced at him and looked away rapidly at a couple walking past on the opposite side of the road, then up the road, anywhere but at him. Harry had forced himself to smile, to laugh at something Frank said, and then they had all gone into the Register Office.

The ceremony was short, the office bare and dingily brown, and they were outside on the pavement again before Molly was properly aware she was at last married to Jackson. And she still hadn’t told him about Beth.

Jackson had booked a photographer from Taylor’s in Newgate Street and they stood together for the wedding photographs. But the photographer didn’t take long; the other wedding party was emerging from the Chapel and he rushed along to it. A grand wedding it was, Molly could tell. The guests were laughing and throwing confetti which she could see was made up of chopped bits of newspaper for of course confetti was not available because of the war effort.

Harry had brought some too and Molly’s heart swelled with affection for him, her brother in his red paratrooper’s beret and khaki battledress. God keep him safe.

‘All right, sweetheart?’ Jackson had hold of Molly’s arm and was bending down to whisper in her ear. He had noticed the look of anxiety which had flashed across her face as she studied Harry. Then they were laughing and trying to dodge as he threw the newspaper confetti.

They were going to the Wear Valley Hotel for a celebratory drink and walked along the road in a small group, the men with late roses from Frank’s garden in their buttonholes and Molly with a spray of carnations from Hardisty’s flower shop. The wedding party were moving away from the Chapel too, she saw, going towards the schoolroom where no doubt there was a spread from the Co-operative Store acquired with the special food points allowed for weddings and funerals.

At the Wear Valley Hotel they paused and Dora stepped away from them. Molly watched her; unconsciously her
grip
tightened on Jackson’s arm so that he looked down at her, momentarily surprised.

‘I’d best be getting back home,’ said Dora.

‘Won’t you stay and have a drink first?’ Jackson asked politely. He didn’t press her, though, still thinking she must be something of a termagant after what Molly had said about her.

‘No, I have to get back. I have the baby to see to.’

Molly felt faint. The dark day turned darker. A cold wind whistled down the neck of her grey utility costume. ‘Dora?’ she whispered, her brown eyes large in appeal.

Dora let her eyes roam over the company: Harry, holding on to Frank’s wheel chair with Maggie beside him. Jackson in his Sergeant’s uniform. He was smiling at her though his eyes were watchful. And lastly she looked at Molly.

‘No, I’m sorry, I have to go. I’m minding a bairn for the neighbours. I promised, you see. I’ll see you soon, will I, Molly?’

‘Yes, soon.’ It was all she could do to get the words out. The party stood and watched as Dora hurried over the road to Station Approach and disappeared into the station.

‘Molly, you look fair nithered,’ pronounced Maggie. ‘Come on, you two, shift yourselves. Let’s get in the warm.’

Chapter Thirty-one

THE NEWLY-WEDS WANDERED
hand in hand through the park at Cockton Hill and along Etherley Lane until they came to the banks of the Wear. The clouds had thinned at last and the sun kept peeking through as they walked on to the path alongside the river. They didn’t speak much, they were too happy just to be there together, forgetting the war and the fact that Jackson had to return to his unit by the following Tuesday morning, when Molly would also be back at her machine in the arms factory.

It had been a muted celebration in the Wear Valley Hotel where they had reservations for two nights, all the honeymoon they had time for. Now Frank and Maggie had gone back to Eden Hope while Harry had returned to camp. He was due back that evening, Jackson and Molly had seen him off at the station.

‘Watch yourself, mate,’ said Jackson. ‘Though how you’ll manage without me to look after you, I don’t know.’ He grinned and dodged Harry’s mock blow. ‘Anyway, I reckon I might join you in the Airborne Division. It’s more
money
, isn’t it? Aye, I thought that’s what must have tempted you.’

‘What else?’

Harry turned to his sister. ‘You’ll have to stand up for yourself with this one,’ he said to her. ‘Don’t take any lip from him, mind.’ He put out his arms and pulled her into a bear hug. ‘Look after yourself in that factory, won’t you?’ he whispered, and she knew he was thinking of Mona. Poor Mona, killed so soon after she’d met her love.

Now as Molly and Jackson wandered by the river, which was brown and peaty after its run through the dale high in the Pennines, her brother was uppermost in her thoughts.

‘I wish Harry would meet a nice girl and settle down,’ she said to Jackson, who laughed.

‘Married all of two hours and already you like it so much you want it for Harry,’ he said, and put his arm around her to draw her to a fallen log by the side of the path. He kissed her lingeringly on the lips and small boys walking past whistled and cheered.

‘Go on, soldier, give it to her!’ one cheeky urchin cried. Jackson made a threatening move after them and they scattered and flew along the path and round the bend in the river.

Jackson smiled and turned his full attention back to Molly. ‘I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted, you’ll see!’

Molly took a deep breath. Now was the time, she thought. He would forgive her, of course he would. He loved her. She wished she had told him straight away but she had not and now she couldn’t let it go on any longer.

‘Even your forgiveness?’ It didn’t sound like her own voice asking. She could hardly believe she had finally found the courage.

‘Forgiveness? What could I possibly have to forgive you for?’ Jackson laughed, his arm tightening around her. With one hand he tilted her chin, looking deep into her eyes. Oh, it was too hard. Molly coughed slightly, pulled away a little, looked in her pocket for a handkerchief.

‘Well?’

‘Dora had to go back to see to a baby, do you remember?’

‘Yes?’ Jackson was looking puzzled now.

‘She said it was a neighbour’s baby, but it wasn’t.’

‘No? Surely Dora hasn’t got a baby at her age, has she? Has she had a secret love affair, is that it? The baby is hers? I don’t believe you, you’re joking!’

‘No, I never said that. Oh, just listen to me, Jackson, and let me tell you.’

He sat back on the log, leaning against the low branch of an oak tree, a remnant of the forest that had given the town its name.

‘You know, Jackson, when you were posted missing, believed killed, I nearly went mad, I think.’ Molly sat
forward
, picked up a stick and began scratching in the dirt at their feet with it. Anything to occupy her hands, keep them from trembling. Anything to stop her heart from jumping up into her throat and threatening to choke her, the way it was doing now.

‘I know it has been hard for you, love. But I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’

‘I was so low,’ Molly went on. She was speaking deliberately now, the terror rising within her. She had to make an enormous effort to force her voice to work at all. ‘And your parents … well, they were grieving so much, too, they closed in on themselves, didn’t want me. Oh, I don’t mean that in a grumbling sort of way. And I’m not making excuses for what I did either –’

‘What you did?’ Jackson sat forward suddenly, put his hands on her shoulders and stood up, taking her with him. ‘What are you saying, Molly? Are you telling me the baby is yours?’

He held her away from him, the grip of his hands on her shoulders like iron. She couldn’t bear to look at his eyes; they were so changed, so cold.

‘Jackson, you’re hurting me,’ she whispered, but he didn’t appear to hear. His relentless grip on her shoulders tightened.

‘Whose is it?’

‘No one’s. Nobody important.’

‘Nobody important? Are you telling me you went with some bloke but it wasn’t
important
?’

‘Yes! No … Oh, God. Jackson, let me go!’

‘I’ll let you go all right – you can go to hell! Or go back to your
unimportant
lover!’

‘Jackson, it wasn’t like that. I was out of my mind … I thought you were dead.’ She tried to explain, her words falling over themselves in her hurry to get him to understand how it had been.

‘Don’t make excuses, Molly,’ was all he said. She looked up at him. There was a white line around his nostrils, his mouth was pinched and his eyes glittered.

‘I’m not! I’m not making excuses … I’m just telling you how it was …’

‘You couldn’t tell me yesterday, though, could you? You couldn’t tell me when I first came back, could you?’

Jackson released his grip, pushing her away from him violently so that she staggered and almost fell over the log they had been sitting on. The place where he had whispered so lovingly in her ear, where he had told her he would do anything for her. He turned and walked away, not even pausing to see if she had been hurt but striding along the path in the direction of the town.

‘You all right, pet?’ a kindly voice asked. It was a man returning from his allotment, a basket of vegetables in his hand. He paused on the path and looked at her with concern.

Swiftly Molly turned away, found her handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Just a cold, I think,’ she said, her back to him, her head bent.

He regarded her doubtfully for a moment. ‘Aye, well,’ he said. ‘If I were you I’d go home to bed, lass, you look terrible.’ He went on his way.

Molly walked in the opposite direction, then paused to study the turbulent waters of the dam head. She was deeply shocked, in a kind of daze. The waters were dark, deep and rushing, and for one brief moment she thought of ending it all, throwing herself into the depths, at last finding some peace. She couldn’t believe Jackson had said what he had. He hadn’t even asked why or how, had simply condemned her out of hand. His features had been transformed with hatred and jealousy. And now he never wanted to see her again. She swayed, dangerously close to the edge, almost hypnotised by the river, her eyes closing. Then a picture of Beth flashed before her eyes. Beth, her innocent baby, smiling at her as she had done that morning before Molly went out to her wedding. But maybe she would be better off with Dora …

‘Come here!’

Molly turned, her heart suddenly fluttering for Jackson had come back! He was going to forgive her, he really was. But the hope died in her as she saw his face, still that of a stranger. He took her by the arm and marched her along with him, back down the path to the town and the hotel. He got the key to their room from a mystified receptionist who gazed after them curiously as they mounted the stairs, the soldier pushing the girl in front of him. A bedroom door banged shut above. The receptionist glanced at a
waiter
, who was hovering in the dining-room doorway, her eyebrows raised.

‘By heck,’ she said. ‘Those two have soon started fighting, haven’t they?’

Inside the room Jackson flung Molly on to the bed. He pulled at her suit buttons, sending one flying into the corner of the room so that she tried to undo the rest herself only to have her hands thrust away. Then she let him finish undressing her. He pulled off her blouse, pulled down the straps of her bra so that her breasts were exposed, the nipples proud and the contours fuller since she’d had the baby. He pulled her skirt up around her waist and held her down with one hand while he pushed the wide-legged cami-knickers to one side.

Molly lay there, the roll of her clothes around her waist hurting her back, her legs spread-eagled so that the elastic of her suspenders stretched hard against her skin. His hands were rough on her breasts, squeezing, digging into the soft flesh. He has a right, she thought dimly. I married him under false pretences. Tears ran down her face and she didn’t even know she was crying. She was nothing, less than nothing, she was worse than a whore, she knew it now, saw herself through Jackson’s eyes and shrank from what she saw.

He was unbuttoning his flies; he wasn’t even going to undress, she thought dimly. She wasn’t worth it. She turned her face away and closed her eyes. Suddenly he stopped in the very act of pushing her legs wider apart. His
hand
was on her breast but he was still. Molly opened her eyes and looked up at him.

Jackson was staring at her reddened face, at the tears, with an expression of disgust. But the disgust was not for her, she realised as the next minute he was climbing off the bed, adjusting his clothing, pushing his hair back from his forehead.

‘Cover yourself up,’ he said, his voice ragged. He turned to the window and looked out at the darkening street, filled with shoppers making their way home. He couldn’t do it, she thought. When it came down to it, he couldn’t do it. A flicker of hope stirred within her to be instantly quashed as he spoke again.

‘You can stop here tonight. The room’s paid for. I’ll go back to camp early. I don’t want my mother and father to find out about this, do you hear?’

‘Yes.’

Jackson turned and looked at her. She saw the suffering in his eyes and it was because of her and she couldn’t bear it.

‘I wanted to tell you, Jackson. Oh, dear God, I thought you were dead, don’t you understand?’ She sniffed, looked around for her bag, found it and searched inside for a handkerchief. A tiny blue lacy handkerchief which Dora had given her for luck. It was completely inadequate. He threw her a large khaki square and Molly wiped her eyes, blew her nose.