Nightingales at War (24 page)

NICK CAME HOME
on the day of his brother’s funeral.

Dora could feel the tension in his body as she stood beside him at the graveside. Like her, he was fighting hard to contain his emotions. But Dora could sense the torrent of pain behind his blank-eyed stare.

They had barely spoken since he’d come home. Nick was quiet, lost in his thoughts. The only time Dora had seen him smile was when the twins crawled into his lap, stroking his hair and planting sloppy kisses on his face.

Dora wished she could go to him, too. She longed to wind her arms around his neck and bury her face against his broad chest, just to be close to him so they could comfort each other. But there was something so chilly and forbidding about him, she didn’t dare.

She had longed to see him, but dreaded it at the same time. She knew their reunion would be difficult, but she had never imagined he would be so cold towards her. She was desperate for reassurance, but he could barely bring himself to look at her.

And Dora knew why, too. Nick blamed her for his brother’s death almost as much as she blamed herself.

She sneaked a glimpse at his profile now, standing beside him at the grave. His face was expressionless, as if it had been carved from stone. His flattened boxer’s nose and strong jawline were as familiar to her as her own, and yet Dora hardly recognised them any more.

But then, she barely recognised much about her life after the past week. Her days had become an endless round of trudging around Bethnal Green, going from one office to the other, queuing up at one place for identity cards, another for ration books, emergency relief, clothes, and everything else they needed. Other people had grumbled, but Dora was thankful for the excuse to keep herself busy.

There was a time when she might have sought refuge in her work, losing herself in the comforting hospital routine. But not any more. As far as Dora was concerned, it was her work that had caused Danny’s death. He was dead because she’d put her own selfish needs first, instead of staying at home and looking after her family. If only she had been there to comfort her baby daughter instead of putting all the responsibility on to Danny’s young shoulders. He had been doing what she was supposed to do, taking care of her children.

The funeral ended, and the mourners started to walk away from the grave. Dora reached for Nick’s hand. It hurt to see him flinch from her touch. When his fingers finally closed around hers, his grip was cold and lifeless.

They were supposed to go to Auntie Brenda’s house in Haggerston for the funeral tea. Dora and her family were staying there until they could find somewhere else to live. But on the way Nick suddenly announced that he wanted to go for a walk to clear his head.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Dora offered straight away, but Nick shook his head.

‘I’d rather be on my own, if you don’t mind?’

She watched him go, hands thrust in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold.

‘Just leave him be, love.’ Her mother came up behind her. ‘He’s got a lot on his mind, that’s all. He’ll come round in the end.’

But Nick didn’t come round. He didn’t return to the house until later that evening, and then he insisted on sleeping in an armchair in the kitchen, even though Dora’s mother and sister had moved into the front parlour to give them some privacy while Nick was on leave.

Dora lay awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling utterly rejected and miserable. She knew that Nick was grieving, but surely this was the time when they should have been together, comforting each other. What did it say about her marriage that her husband couldn’t even bear to sleep in the same bed as her any more?

On her mother’s advice, she put up with it for two long days. Two days of silence, and two nights of sleepless misery. Dora tried to keep her distance, understanding only too well that it was Nick’s way to retreat into himself when he was angry or upset. But all the while she could feel their precious time slipping away. Tomorrow he would be gone, off to God knows where. She had no idea when or if she would ever see him again.

It was that thought that finally made her creep downstairs in the middle of the night to see him.

He wasn’t asleep. He was in the armchair, a blanket pulled up to his chin, staring into the dying embers of the fire. Dora hesitated for a moment in the doorway, watching him. The firelight’s glow softened the hard planes of his face. With his grim mask down, he looked so lost it touched her heart.

He looked up sharply when she walked in. ‘Dora?’

She smiled. ‘Can’t you sleep either?’

He shook his head and turned his gaze back to the fire. Dora crossed the room, her legs suddenly trembling, and sat down on the rug at his feet. As she leaned against him, she felt his body stiffen. It hurt, but she forced herself to ignore it.

‘You’re leaving tomorrow.’ Her voice sounded loud in the shadowy silence of the kitchen. ‘Do you know where they might send you?’ He shook his head. ‘When will you be back?’

‘Can’t say. Might not be for a while.’

‘How long?’

‘A couple of years, maybe.’

She twisted round to look up into his expressionless face. ‘Two years?’

He lifted his broad shoulders. ‘That’s what everyone reckons.’

The flat tone of his voice filled her with anger. ‘You don’t seem very upset about it?’ she said.

‘What am I meant to do, then?’

You’re meant to love me, she thought. You’re meant to put your arms around me and tell me it’s not my fault, that everything will be all right.

But it was too late for that, she realised bleakly. It wasn’t just Danny who had died. Their marriage had died with him.

And it was all her fault.

Dora gazed into the dying firelight and silently prayed for the strength to get through what had to be done next.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said flatly.

‘So am I.’

‘I know I let you down, and I know you’ll never forgive me for it, but I want you to know how sorry I am. Believe me, if I could go back and change what happened I would. I would rather I’d died that day than poor Danny.’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘It’s true. I know how much he meant to you, and it’s my fault he’s dead. Believe me, you can’t hate me any more than I hate myself. But I can’t live the rest of my life like this, with you blaming me. I’d rather we just walked away from each other now than see that hatred in your face.’

Nick was silent for a long time. When Dora risked a glance at him, she saw a single tear running down his face.

‘Is that what you think?’ he said hoarsely. ‘That I hate you?’

‘That’s why you’ve been avoiding me, isn’t it? That’s why you won’t talk to me, or hold my hand, or share a bed with me—’

‘It’s not because I hate you. It’s because I hate myself.’

Dora frowned. ‘I don’t understand?’

‘I promised to look after you, and Danny, and the babies. It was my job to protect you.’

‘But how could you?’ Dora said. ‘You weren’t here.’

‘Exactly. I should have been here, looking after you all. I shouldn’t have left you to cope without me.’ His jaw clenched with tension. ‘I let you down,’ he said.

Dora stared at him, and suddenly it dawned on her why her husband couldn’t meet her eye, couldn’t touch her. He was ashamed because he felt he’d failed her. Just as she felt she’d failed him. They were locked together in a world of guilt, each blaming themselves for what had happened.

And in reality, neither of them was really to blame.

‘I thought you didn’t love me any more,’ she whispered.

‘Oh, Dora, I love you more than anything in the world.’ Nick reached for her, finally, and when his strong arms went around her it was as if a dam had broken, engulfing them both in the warmth and light and love they’d been denying themselves for so long.

‘When I heard about Danny, it broke my heart.’ Nick’s voice was gruff with emotion. ‘But at the same time I was relieved because you and the kids were safe. All I could think about was getting back to you. But then when I saw you, I felt so ashamed that I’d put you in danger.’

‘You didn’t put us in danger,’ Dora said. ‘You didn’t drop that bomb, Nick. Any more than I did.’

‘All the same, I knew I couldn’t protect you. And I need to protect you, Dora. I need to know you and the kids are safe.’ He pulled away from her, holding her at arms’ length. ‘I want you to go away,’ he said. ‘I want you to take the twins and leave London.’

‘But where will we go?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t care where you go, so long as you’re safe.’ He stared down at her, his eyes wretched. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Dor. I just don’t know . . .’

‘Just as well you ain’t going to lose me, then.’

At last she could put her arms around him, feel the reassuring strength of his body against hers.

‘I don’t want to leave you,’ he whispered into her hair.

‘You don’t have to. Not until tomorrow.’ She smiled up at him, her hands cupping his face, feeling the rough stubble of his chin against her fingers. ‘We’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you think?’ she whispered.

‘
I’VE GOT SOMETHING
for you,’ Johnny said.

Jennifer’s heart sank, and she was instantly reminded of Cissy’s words.

It’s about time you found out what that Johnny Fayers is really like
.

She’d tried to ignore her friend’s comment, told herself Cissy was just jealous, that she didn’t know Johnny the way Jennifer did. But then she had to admit she didn’t really know him herself at all. They were just two strangers, pretending to have a good time together.

From somewhere outside came the distant wail of the air-raid siren, but nobody moved. No bomb would ever dare penetrate the tiny subterranean club where they sat drinking champagne in the middle of the day.

Jennifer looked around her. The private club had always seemed so like Johnny, glamorous and lively. But now she realised it reminded her of him because it was dark and full of secrets.

All those shady corners, filled with characters just like Johnny. Hunched over tables, doing deals. How had she never noticed what lay beneath the showy façade?

‘Go on,’ Johnny said, pushing the package towards her.

Jennifer stared down at it, filled with dread. Please, she begged silently. Please don’t prove Cissy right.

‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Johnny’s smile hardened. ‘Don’t look so worried, it ain’t an unexploded bomb!’

Jennifer unwrapped it with trembling hands, and tried to smile when she saw the bottle of perfume.

‘Evening in Paris – that’s the one you like, ain’t it?’ Johnny’s grin was back in place, so sure of himself. ‘You said you’d nearly run out, so . . .’

She tried again to smile as she unscrewed the stopper and took a long sniff. Evening in Paris. An image of Philip Chandler came into her mind, and the sharp suddenness of the pain took her breath away.

He’d probably forgotten all about her and her perfume by now, she thought.

From far above came the muted whine of aircraft, followed a moment later by the retort of the ack-ack guns.

‘Do you like it?’ Johnny was watching her keenly from across the table.

Jennifer replaced the stopper and put the bottle back on the table. ‘Where did you get it?’ she asked.

He tapped the side of his nose. ‘What have I told you about asking questions?’

Usually she would have giggled, but this time uncertainty welled up inside her. ‘Where did you get it, Johnny?’ she repeated.

His smile faded. ‘One of my business connections,’ he replied. ‘Someone owed me a favour.’

‘Are you sure you didn’t steal it?’

His expression darkened, and Jennifer felt instantly wary, knowing she had crossed a line.

‘What are you saying, Jen?’ The lightness of his voice belied the storm clouds gathering in his eyes.

Jennifer opened her mouth, then closed it again. It would have been much easier just to say nothing, to step away from the brink of an argument. But she couldn’t go on turning her back on the truth for ever.

‘I just want to know, Johnny,’ she said quietly. ‘Did you steal it?’

He stared at her for a long time. She kept her fingers crossed under the table. If he denied it, she would believe him and everything would be all right.

‘No,’ he said finally. ‘I didn’t steal it.’

There. He’d said it. Now everything could go back to normal and she could be happy again. Except there was something in his guarded reply . . .

‘But someone did?’ she said.

‘What if they did? How do you think I get hold of all these presents for you? They don’t just fall out of the sky with the bombs, y’know.’

Jennifer stared at him, dazed. Even now, she wanted him to deny it, to tell her she was being silly. But they were past lying, she realised.

‘You don’t need to look so shocked,’ Johnny mocked her. ‘You ain’t that naïve.’

‘Perhaps I am,’ Jennifer said sadly. She’d thought she was so sophisticated, sipping champagne and hobnobbing with rich people. And if she was honest, she had known about Johnny’s shady business dealings, and even found them a little thrilling.

But now she realised that all this time she had been swimming hopelessly out of her depth. And she was starting to drown.

‘I thought it was just black-market stuff,’ she said.

‘Shh! Keep your voice down!’ Johnny hissed, glancing around. ‘I told you, I’m a businessman. I see an opportunity, and I grab it.’

‘Even if it means robbing people who’ve lost their homes, their families?’

‘I dunno what you’re talking about,’ he muttered.

‘I’m talking about this.’ Jennifer slid the bracelet off her wrist and put it on the table between them. ‘A girl at work recognised it, Johnny. It belonged to her aunt. It was stolen when their house was blown up. This, and a few other bits and pieces, which I’m sure you know about.’

She went to move but his hand flashed out, encircling her wrist painfully where the bracelet had been, pinning it to the table. ‘Have you told anyone else about this?’ he snapped.

‘No, of course not.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I told you, didn’t I?’ Jennifer tried to twist free from his grasp, wincing at the pain. ‘Let go, Johnny. You’re hurting me.’

He released her, then snatched up the bracelet and slid it smoothly into his pocket. ‘You’d better not say anything either,’ he warned.

‘Why would I go round telling people my boyfriend is a thief?’ She rubbed the tender skin where his fingers had dug into her flesh.

She must have pricked his conscience because he looked away. ‘Everyone’s doing it,’ he muttered. ‘The police and the ARP wardens, they’re the worst. They’re the real villains, making out they’re helping people, when all the time they’re just helping themselves.’

‘And that makes you better than them, does it?’ Jennifer said. ‘Because you’re an honest thief?’

He glared at her, his eyes hostile. ‘I dunno what you’re looking so high and mighty about. You were happy enough to drink my champagne and take my presents. Showed off to your friends about them, too, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘Only because I didn’t know where they came from.’

‘Do me a favour! You’re worse than my customers, pretending they haven’t got the faintest idea that they’re buying ill-gotten gains. At least I admit what I do.’

He was right, Jennifer thought. Supply and demand, he’d called it. She’d demanded, and he’d supplied. She was as guilty as he was, in her way.

But not any more. Jennifer squared her shoulders and looked at him. ‘I want you to stop,’ she said.

He stared at her for a moment, then laughed. ‘You’re joking, ain’t you?’

‘You could find another job,’ she urged him. ‘Something legal.’

‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I could give up my business, everything I’ve worked for, and become – I don’t know – a bus conductor. Or maybe I could get myself a nice job at that hospital of yours, shifting bodies about?’

Jennifer flushed. ‘I’m not saying you have to do anything like that. You could make money some other way. You’re clever,’ she urged him. ‘And you know lots of people. I’m sure you could find something.’

He set his jaw. ‘I’m happy as I am, thanks.’

‘But those people you steal from – they’ve lost everything.’

‘They won’t miss a bit more then, will they?’

She stared at him across the table, gazing intently into that rugged face and trying to remember what it was that had ever attracted her to him. How had she ever felt a thrill, looking into those stone-cold eyes?

‘If you don’t give it up I’m leaving you,’ she said.

A slow, insulting smile spread over his face. ‘You really do think a lot of yourself, don’t you? Do you seriously imagine I’d give up the chance to make good money, just for a little tart like you?’ He took out his cigarettes and lit one with deliberate slowness. ‘If you want to leave, you know where the door is.’

For a moment, she sat rooted to the spot with humiliation. People were starting to look at them, glancing up from their own business.

She rose to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘Right, I’m going,’ she said. ‘But I think you should know I’m going to tell my dad about you.’

She’d lashed out to upset him, but the minute she saw his smile disappear Jennifer knew it was a foolish move to threaten him.

‘You what?’ he said.

‘You heard.’ She lifted her chin and forced herself to meet his gaze, even though her heart was fluttering against her ribs.

She’d backed away from him and was nearly at the door by the time he reached her. Before Jennifer knew what had happened, he’d pinned her to the wall. ‘Now you listen to me,’ he said. ‘You ain’t going to say a word to anyone. Not if you know what’s good for you.’

‘And what are you going to do about it?’

‘You’ll find out. I don’t like people crossing me.’

All around, the walls seemed to be closing in on her. She could hear the rumble of bombs overhead, like the rumble of thunder.

‘Oh, Johnny . . .’ She gave him the sweetest smile she could muster. Then, in the swift movement her father had taught her, she brought her knee up sharply between his legs.

For a second his hard eyes registered shock and pain. Then he doubled over, giving her enough time to reach the door.

‘Jen! Come back here!’ His voice seemed a long way behind her as she ran up the flight of steep stone steps back to the street.

‘Catch me!’ she called over her shoulder, pushing open the wooden door. The cold, bright November day seemed to hurt her eyes and she paused for a second to catch her breath.

And then, suddenly, she heard someone cry out. Jennifer turned to look in their direction – and she knew no more.