Pattern of Shadows (17 page)

‘I’m telling you, Ellen, it was Al.’ Mary held her blouse up towards the scullery window before laying it on the draining board and scrubbing at the collar with the block of Sunlight soap. ‘He was in the park smooching with this other girl and if you must know, it’s not the first time I’ve seen him with her. I thought I’d made a mistake last time, but I know it was him today. And he had his hand down her blouse.’

‘Oh, shut up.’ Hunched over the kitchen table, Ellen flicked the pages of her
Woman’s Own
magazine. ‘You’re just jealous.’

‘I am not.’ Mary dropped the blouse into the bowl of cold water in the sink. ‘Look I don’t want us to fall out again.’

Ellen gave a short laugh. ‘Give over.’ She lit a cigarette.

Mary came to the kitchen door. She brushed a wisp of air from her cheek with the back of her hand. ‘You’ve changed, Ellen.’

‘Yeah, yeah!’ Ellen reached over to the sideboard and turned up the radio. ‘Oh, I do like this song.’ She tapped her fingers and hummed as Anne Shelton belted out
Over There
.

Mary spoke loudly over the music. ‘No one wants to make you miserable.’

‘Huh!’

‘Or stop you doing what you want to do. I know how fed up you get at the factory. I know you want to do more with your life, but you’re only young and there’s plenty of time. This war won’t last forever. Just think about what I’ve said. He’s no good for you.’ Ellen turned the radio louder. Exasperated Mary went back into the scullery. ‘OK, have it your own way, but I’m telling you, I saw him with this other girl. If you don’t believe me, ask him yourself.’ She lifted up the blouse and wrung it out. Her voice strained with the effort as she said loudly, ‘Ask him, ask him tonight. I presume you are going out with him again later? And try coming home before morning. Dad’s going to find out sooner or later.’

Her sister’s next words shocked her. ‘Who cares? Al has asked me to marry him like I always said he would, so
there. And, like I said before, he’ll take me to America.’

Mary whirled round from the sink. ‘Oh Ellen!’

‘Oh Ellen,’ she imitated Mary’s voice, flipping the magazine closed. ‘For your information he loves me. He gets me anything I want from the Post Exchange, stockings, nail varnish. Even perfume. When was the last time a bloke bought you perfume, Mary?’

‘Buying stuff from the army shop doesn’t mean he loves you, you idiot,’ Mary flared at Ellen’s last sentence. If she had to answer it would be never and for a split second that stung. ‘Especially the pay he’s on. He gets over twice as much as our lads. He’ll have what he wants from you and move on to the next daft girl. If you think you’re going to be a GI bride you’ve another think coming.’

Ellen stood up, rolling the magazine in her hands. ‘And you’re just a dried-up old spinster. If you must know I’ve signed on for a lecture on transatlantic customs at the town hall. I’m going to be the best wife that I can be for Al.’ She flounced up the stairs.

Mary lowered the clothes rack from the ceiling and folded the blouse over the bars. ‘Dad’s going to hit the roof,’ she muttered.

‘Dad’ll hit the roof, Jean.’

They trod carefully over the long grass that had spilled from each side of the canal path and now lay flattened and slimy underfoot. Mottled grey clouds, filled with more rain, brooded low in the sky. The water moved slowly, sucking up debris from the banking as it floated.

‘Do you think she’s told your mother?’

‘Doubt it, no. Mam would have told me. No, Ellen will keep this plan close to her chest.’ Mary remembered the last time her sister had attempted to leave home; the offer of the job in that London theatre two years ago had caused major ructions. In the end her father had won. Mary always wondered if Ellen’s wildness had worsened because of that. She’d had dreams thwarted before; she wouldn’t let it happen again.

‘Will you talk to her about it?’

‘Mam? Yes, suppose I’ll have to sometime. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it, though.’

‘Well, it’s not really your problem, is it?’

‘You can bet Ellen won’t be around to make it hers. She’ll scarper like she always does.’

‘Then you’ll have to do the same,’ Jean said.

‘Chance’d be a fine thing,’ Mary grumbled. She picked up some stones from the path and skimmed them, one by one, across the water. She watched the ripples circle outwards. ‘What am I going to do, Jean? Ellen won’t listen to anything I say these days.’

‘Look, you’ve done your best. She’ll have to make her own mistakes. She’ll come round eventually.’

‘From America?’

‘It won’t come to that, trust me. She’ll have to wait until after the war anyway. According to Marion’s mother next door but one to us, you know, Marion Cartwright?’ Mary shook her head. ‘The one with big teeth …?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘Well she’s been told they won’t let their servicemen take British girls back to the States just like that, even if they are married. The men will go home first and then
it’ll take months of paperwork, all sorts of forms, to get permission and what have you. Ellen will have got fed up with the idea long before then.’

‘It would be a relief to think you’re right.’

‘I am.’

‘Nothing has been right since that first time I saw her with Al.’

‘Well, I think you did the right thing then and all.’ Jean looked upwards.’ It’s going to rain again. We’d better get a move on.’ They quickened their steps. ‘One of the few things Frank Shuttleworth was useful for, if you ask me.’

‘I was glad of Frank at the time, true enough.’

‘Talking of the devil, have you seen him lately?’

A man on a bicycle rang his bell behind them. Mary flinched. Jean cocked her head to one side. ‘You’re jumpy.’

They stood to one side to let the cyclist pass. He raised his cap to them, said, ‘Ladies,’ and pressed harder on the pedals, his gas mask and ‘snap’ bag bumping together on his back.

Jean persisted. ‘Mary? I said have you seen Frank lately?’

Mary linked arms with her and sighed. ‘Everywhere, Jean, I swear he’s following me. Yesterday I was in the queue at the butcher’s and he was stood right behind me, pushing up against me.’

‘Now that
is
your problem. So what are you going to do?’

‘Nothing. What can I do? Last week, when I was going to work he trailed behind me all the way. I knew he wasn’t on shift – I’d changed so I wouldn’t see him – and there he was. Every time I stopped, so did he, I told him what I
thought of him but he just laughed at me. Honestly Jean, he’s giving me the creeps.’ Mary didn’t tell her friend about the whispered threats each time he came near her, or the way he looked at her.

‘I’ll tell Patrick,’ Jean said. ‘He’ll deal with him.’

‘No!’ Mary was adamant. ‘No, Jean.
I’ll
deal with it. Frank wouldn’t let Patrick get away with another beating; he’d get some of his mates behind him. I don’t want you two to get involved again. Right?’

‘Right’ Jean pursed her lips.

They stopped at the steps leading up to Skirm. ‘Let’s get home,’ Mary said, ‘we’re both on earlies tomorrow. She heard a scuffle of stones further down the path. As she looked back a man disappeared into the bushes, but she knew Frank meant her to see him.

And he wasn’t her only problem. As Mary left Jean at the end of Moss Terrace, she thought back to the conversation they’d had earlier on their break. ‘Be careful, Mary, please.’

‘What d’you mean?’ But Mary knew what she meant, she seen Jean watching her and Peter after they’d finished the round of the ward. As he left he’d touched her hand, twined his little finger in hers.

‘Just be careful,’ Jean repeated, ‘you’re playing with fire.’

‘I can’t help it, Jean. Peter says we …’

Jean held up her hand. ‘I don’t want to discuss it, Mary. I don’t know how I feel about it all and I hate keeping anything from Patrick. I owe Doctor Schormann for his kindness when I lost the baby but … but he’s a
German
.’ She stressed her words. ‘You seem to have forgotten that but I can’t; it worries me and I’m frightened for you.’

‘Don’t be.’ Mary put an arm around her. ‘Please don’t be. I know what I’m doing.’

‘Well, I don’t think you do, it’s madness.’ She didn’t relax against Mary. ‘So don’t tell me anything, all right? And be more careful in work.’

‘You wouldn’t say anything, though, would you? Not to Patrick … not to anyone?’

‘You shouldn’t need to ask that.’ Jean scowled. ‘But keep me out of it. That’s all I’m asking, keep me out of it.’

My dear Mary

Only a short note, I’m afraid. Gwyneth is coming to visit Iori so she’ll get this out for me as well as my article for the
Peace News.
Mary, I want you to promise me something. If you won’t report Shuttleworth to the Commandant or the police, I want you to promise you’ll never go anywhere on your own. It makes me so angry that I can’t be there to look out for you, though what use I’d be I don’t know, I can’t even protect Iori from the bullies in here. He gets pushed around all the time and won’t let me do anything about it. He’s not like me, Mary, he hasn’t an angry bone in his body – just this belief that violence is wrong whatever the circumstances. He thinks words will always solve a problem and I’m ashamed to say that, sometimes, my temper gets the better of me. And then I question if I really am a pacifist. Anyhow, enough of this heart-searching, I need to finish now as Iori is going
down to the hall for visiting time. Take great care, dear, and remember what I’ve said – go nowhere on your own. There are no signs of my getting out yet. Perhaps in a few months time I will be up for review again. Iori promises to show me Llamroth eventually. Perhaps all three of us will see it together one day.

Keep safe, Mary. Love to Mam.

Tom

The night air carried a fine drizzle that darkened the stone outside the entrance of the hospital. Mary held her hand over her mouth as she yawned; she was exhausted.

‘You are tired?’ Peter, huddled inside his overcoat, collar turned up, looked at her.

‘Not sleeping well these days.’ She swallowed her tea.

‘Yes, that can be a problem if one is troubled.’ He took a long gulp from the mug he cupped in his hands, his eyes anxious over the rim. ‘You are troubled?’

Mary shrugged. ‘It’s nothing.’ She stood a few feet away from him, casually looking across to the other side of the porch where three orderlies were grouped, the smoke from their cigarettes settling around them and mingling with the drizzle. She wondered if Frank was watching from somewhere in the darkness.

A nurse opened the main doors and said, ‘Yes, it’s still raining.’

Another female voice answered, ‘I’m not that desperate for a fag. I’ll wait till the end of the shift.’

The doors slowly closed. In the dim light that escaped
from inside the hospital, Mary saw one of the orderlies lift his cup in a gesture of acknowledgement to her and she raised her hand, turning back towards Peter. ‘I’d better go in.’ She hesitated.

‘What is it?’

‘Nothing.’

‘There is something wrong.’ He kept his tone neutral as the men passed them and ran down the steps towards the compound, heads bent against the rain.
‘Gutenacht Herr Doctor.’

‘
Gutenacht
.’

The sentry had opened the gate, let the orderlies through and returned to the guardroom before Peter spoke again. ‘Tell me, please.’

‘It’s Frank.’

Peter shifted so that he faced the hospital doors. He took hold of her hand and held it to his chest. She could feel the quickened beat of his heart. ‘Shuttleworth?’

‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘I shouldn’t…’

‘Please,
leibling
.’

‘You know I was seeing him for a while. Going out with him.’ She heard the suppressed curse, felt the sudden squeeze of his fingers.

‘Yes,’ Peter said. ‘You … he … were courting…’

Mary’s voice cracked. ‘I suppose you could say that. Just for a very short time. Before I found out what he’s like.’

‘And you found out?’

‘Yes.’

‘And now?’

Mary stared towards the fence where the guard had vanished into the darkness, her breathing uneven. ‘Now I’m not, haven’t been for a while.’ Her relationship with
Frank had been acknowledged by them both but not spoken about.

The main doors opened again releasing muted light and voices. He let go of her hand.

‘I must go in,’ Mary said, ‘we’ve been here too long.’

‘What? There is more. You have more to say.’ Disregarding the half open doors, Peter held on to her arm. ‘What is it?’

‘I shouldn’t …’

‘Mary.’ His voice was sharp.

‘He’s following me,’ she said. ‘Everywhere I go he’s following me.’

Peter’s eyes narrowed.

‘And I’m frightened. He scares me.’

‘You’re wet through.’ Her mother took Mary’s cape from her and hung it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs in front of the range.

‘It’s still absolutely pouring out there.’ Mary shuddered.

‘Third day in a row.’ Winifred pushed the iron poker into the fire and gave it a jiggle. ‘Get upstairs and get changed. There’s some vegetable soup on the range.’

‘For a change,’ her father grumbled, scratching his stomach through his vest as he appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

‘If you don’t want it, you know what to do.’ Winifred pulled out the table drawer and took out some spoons.

‘Aye, I will and all.’ Bill went back upstairs. They could hear him grumbling to himself.

‘He’s more miserable than usual these days,’ Mary said, draping her cap over the rack and drying her hair.

Her mother made a face. ‘He’s lost heart since they announced the Home Guard’s going to be disbanded in December. That’s his excuse to go The Crown; he’s drowning his sorrows because the Home Guard parades end this week. You know him; he likes all that marching about.’

‘As long as he doesn’t take it out on you.’ Mary stripped her stockings off and rubbed her legs and feet then draped the towel over the rail on the range. ‘I’ll be down in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’

She waited at the bottom of the stairs until her father stepped down into the kitchen and ran upstairs, stopping on the top tread. The door to her bedroom was closed but she could tell Ellen was inside; there was a thin slit of light showing underneath the wood and noises of drawers being opened and closed. She bit her lip. She didn’t feel up to dealing with Ellen’s moods. Being on nights for the last week had made things easier; at least she didn’t have to lie in the same bed being careful not to touch her, listening to her breathing, knowing Ellen was doing the same. But now it was back to the oppressive silences.

There was a worse draught than normal on the landing; her brothers’ bedroom door was open. Tom’s room now, she corrected herself. Pushing the door wider she clicked the light on. Piles of clothes littered both beds: Ellen’s clothes. Mary spun round and lifted the latch on the opposite door. Ellen had her back to her. Wearing only her petticoat she was taking dresses out of the wardrobe and tossing them onto the bed alongside a jumble of underclothes. When Mary walked into the room Ellen
stopped but didn’t say anything.

‘Can’t decide what to wear?’ Mary tried to joke but her voice was strained. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I’m moving into the boys’ room.’ Ellen’s tone was curt.

‘Tom’s room, you mean. Why?’

‘Why not? It’s empty.’

‘But it won’t be. They’ll let him out sometime’.

‘And you think Dad will let him come back home?’

‘You’ve still no right.’

‘The days when you could tell me what to do are long gone.’

Ellen picked up her clothes and barged past her.

When Mary got downstairs she almost cried out; Frank was hunched over the fire talking to her father who sitting on his chair fastening his bootlaces. She glared at him and then pulled a face at her mother. Winifred raised her shoulders and went into the scullery. Mary followed. ‘What’s he doing here?’ she hissed.

‘Says he’s come to take your Dad out for a pint.’

‘I don’t want him here. Doesn’t Dad know I’m not seeing him anymore?’

‘Does your father care about anything or anybody if there’s a free pint in it?’

‘I don’t believe this!’ Mary stood with her arms crossed leaning on the doorframe, glaring at Frank; she wasn’t going to allow him to upset her in her own house.

Bill had his face turned sideways, listening as Frank talked.

‘We had German prisoners on the train with us when we were being brought home.’ Frank leaned back and linked his hands behind his head. ‘That was until some
of the men found out and threatened to beat them up. The guards stopped the train and they were taken off. If I’d known and I’d been fit enough I’d have killed the bastards for what they did to me.’ Frank waited a moment, rubbing the palms of his hands up and down the back of his head. ‘And here I am, stuck in a job with a load of other rejects, keeping watch over the bloody scum.’ He sneaked a look at Mary before speaking again. ‘There’s a girl in our street in trouble for fraternizing with one of the Krauts she worked with on a farm somewhere down South. She’s been sent home and boy, is she in big trouble now.’

‘Should be fucking tarred and feathered.’ Bill lifted the cushion on his chair and then stood looking around the kitchen. ‘I can’t find my jumper. Where’s my blue jumper?’

‘If you mean the one you’ve had on your back for the last fortnight, it’s in the wash. It walked there by itself.’ Winifred opened the sideboard and got out four bowls.

‘I need it. I’m going to The Crown.’

‘Your red one’s in your drawer upstairs. And if you must go out again, you could at least bring me a bottle back.’

‘I will if you’ve got some brass.’ He went back upstairs.

Frank turned to look at Mary and smirked. ‘Haven’t seen you for ages, Mary, how are you keeping?’