The Letter (6 page)

‘It’s alright,’ Alice whispered in his ear. ‘Mamma’s here now.’

Later, in matron’s office, Alice learnt the full story of how little Billy had ended up in the orphanage. Like Alice, Billy’s mother, Frances Edwards, had given birth during the war, but tragically his father, Albert, had been killed in action just a month before the Armistice that brought an end to the hostilities. Nobody could be sure how this had affected Frances Edwards, but it was safe to assume that the news brought insurmountable grief on the young mother, for on Armistice Day, November 11
^th
, 1918, as church bells around the country rang out in celebration, Frances cradled her precious baby and held him tight as she leapt off a railway bridge. She was killed instantly but miraculously, Billy survived with only a deep cut over his left eyebrow. It seemed his mother’s body had cushioned his fall. Despite various pleas, no relatives had come forward to claim Billy so he had been placed in the orphanage by the authorities. Alice wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

‘So what will happen to him now?’

Matron shrugged. ‘We’ll look after him here. He’ll be well cared for.’

‘I’ll take him.’ Alice declared. ‘He’s a baby without a mother and I’m a mother without a baby. Please, Matron.’

Matron looked doubtful. ‘We don’t have a formal adoption policy but there will be some checks and paperwork to go through.’ She looked at Alice’s pleading expression. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Alice gave a thin smile. ‘Thank you. I’ll talk to my husband.’

Billy had left the orphanage one week later with only two possessions; his late mother’s engagement ring and a ‘Flanders Poppy’ which had been pressed by his father and sent to his mother from the trenches during the war. It was attached to a piece of paper and Albert Edwards had written on the back:

My Darling Frances,

I wish you could see these poppies in the fields. They are even more stunning when they are blowing in the wind. I saved this one from the Flanders mud. Look after our boy. I can’t wait to meet him. All my love and affection forever.

Albert xx 12th October 1918.

He was killed in action two days later.

*

Now, in the spring of 1939, at the age of twenty-one, Billy was devoted to his adoptive mother. His relationship with Henry however was a little complicated to say the least. Billy found the best way to deal with the situation was to keep his distance. Henry Stirling spent an awful lot of time in the pub or just wandering the streets, so this wasn’t difficult. Henry had never really accepted Billy as his son and the amount of love and attention lavished on Billy by Alice only served to compound his feelings of resentment.

One night, Billy and his best friend Clark were propping up the bar of their local pub.

‘I feel sorry for you,’ announced Clark.

Billy took a long drag on his cigarette and regarded his friend.

‘Why’s that then?’

‘Well, you never experience the thrill of the chase, do you? I mean, girls just fall at your feet. All you have to do is walk into a room and the eyes of every girl in the place are on you. Where’s the challenge in that?’

Billy shrugged and clicked his fingers at the barman.

‘Two more rums when you have a minute please, mate.’

He turned to Clark. ‘Is that what you really think? Has it ever occurred to you that girls who are obsessed by a bloke’s looks are completely shallow? They have no substance at all and whilst they might be fun for a one-night stand, after that I’m bored with them. I want a serious, steady relationship as much as the next man.’

He passed the rum over to Clark.

‘Cheers!’

Clark did not sound convinced. ‘I don’t stand a chance hanging around with you, do I?’ he said miserably.

This was true. Girls flocked around the two of them at the dance hall but it was Billy they wanted to talk to, Billy they wanted to twirl them round the dance floor and Billy they wanted to walk them home at the end of the night.

‘You’re my best mate, Clark. We’ve been friends since we were kids in short trousers with scabby knees and dirty faces. Are you suggesting we stop hanging round together in order to give you a better chance with the girls?’

Clark sighed. ‘No, of course I’m not saying that. I just feel like I’m never going to meet anyone.’

Billy slapped him on the back. ‘Snap out of it, Clark, stop feeling sorry for yourself. No girl wants a bloke who’s drowning in self-pity.’

Billy regarded his friend in the smoky atmosphere of the pub. Whilst it was true his ginger hair and freckles were not exactly a magnet for the girls, his piercing ice-blue eyes seemed to look directly into your soul as they shone out from what was essentially a very handsome face. His lack of height could be a drawback to girls in high heels and his lingering Black Country accent was also out of place in Manchester and made him sound a little slow-witted, when actually the opposite was true. A more solid, dependable and thoroughly decent chap it would be hard to find.

‘Sorry, Billy,’ said Clark. ‘D’you want another?’

Billy looked at his watch. ‘Better not, Mum’ll have my tea ready. I’ll see you tomorrow at the Buck, yeah?’

The Buccaneer Dance Hall was their favourite Friday night haunt. Clusters of girls giggled nervously at the edge of the dance floor, surreptitiously glancing around, hoping for an invitation to dance. There was a three-piece band and the lights were dim enough to create a romantic atmosphere, should it be needed. This was in contrast to the dances at the local Church Hall where the vicar insisted on acting as chaperone and would separate couples who, in his opinion, were getting rather too close to each other. Once, Billy was literally thrown out for letting his hands stray far too low down his dancing partner’s back. Needless to say, Clark had found that episode hilarious. There were no such restrictions at The Buccaneer though, and since their conversation last night, Billy was determined to find Clark a lovely young girl who would take him home to meet her mother, marry him and have his babies. Or, failing that, at least someone willing to dance with him. The band was in fine form and it was difficult to talk above the music. Billy cupped his hands and spoke directly into Clark’s ear.

‘Have you seen anybody you want to ask for a dance?’

Clark rubbed his ear. ‘I’m not deaf!’

‘What about those two girls over there?’

Billy pointed to a couple of girls who had been glancing in their direction all evening. One was tall, rather loud and wore an awful lot of make-up. She tossed her long dark hair back provocatively as she caught Billy’s eye. Her friend was obviously uncomfortable and gazed at the floor. Billy suddenly straightened up and nudged Clark.

‘Bugger me, they’re coming over.’

They both watched as the taller girl sashayed across the dance floor towards them, her friend scurrying behind trying not to slosh her drink all over the place.

‘Hello, girls,’ said Billy.

‘Evening,’ nodded Clark.

‘We noticed you looking over,’ said the taller girl, flicking her hair back again. ‘I’m Sylvia, but you can call me Syl and this is my friend, Chrissie.’

‘How do you do? I’m Billy and this is my friend, Clark.’

Clark nodded again and wiped his sweaty palm down his trousers before shaking hands with the two girls.

Chrissie smiled sweetly, her blue eyes shining with amusement. Although much more reticent than her friend, she was by far the more attractive of the two. Her blonde hair was neatly curled, her skin glowed and she wore only the faintest smear of pink lipstick. Billy could hardly take his eyes off her, but Syl had other ideas. She pulled Billy by his tie, forcing him to put down his drink.

‘Come on, let’s see what you’re made of.’

Billy made to protest but it was no use. Syl now had him firmly by the arm and was steering him towards the dance floor. He looked back to see Clark and Chrissie settling down at a table and felt an unexpected pang of jealousy. Syl was a great dancer but modesty was not one of her attributes.

‘Hey, we make a dazzling couple, don’t we?’

They re-joined their friends at the table and Clark and Chrissie were so deep in conversation that they hardly noticed. The band had slowed the music down now and couples began to glide onto the dance floor for the slow numbers. Billy knew this was the part of the evening Clark always dreaded - but not tonight it seemed. Without saying anything, he held out his hand to Chrissie who took it shyly and stood up. Billy could only watch as Clark escorted her onto the dance floor and placed his arms around her waist. They swayed to the music as Billy and Syl looked on.

‘Aww, make a lovely couple, don’t they?’

Billy couldn’t answer. He had the terrible feeling that he had just lost something very precious. Something he had never owned but nevertheless something that should have belonged to him. He could not explain it, but he felt as though his heart had been ripped right out and replaced with a lump of lead. Clark now held Chrissie close and turned to look at Billy. He raised both thumbs behind Chrissie’s back and grinned. Billy forced a smile and raised his glass to them. It had never happened to him before, but Billy suddenly realised that Chrissie was meant to be the love of his life. Unfortunately, she was now in the arms of his best friend.

Chapter 5

Chrissie – Spring 1939

Chrissie propped her bicycle against a garden wall and silently cursed to herself. The chain had come off, there was oil all over her white ankle socks and now she was going to have to walk the rest of the way. Fortunately, the spring day felt more like summer and she had nearly finished her round so it could have been worse. As the daughter of a doctor and a midwife she was used to being drafted in to help, and today she was making her daily deliveries of medicine to her father’s patients. Chrissie worked in the surgery in Wood Gardens in Manchester, where her duties varied from making up the prescriptions to polishing the ornate mahogany medicine cabinets. Doctor Skinner was a revered physician and Chrissie was in awe of him and more than a little terrified. He was a strict disciplinarian, both with his wife, his daughter and even his patients. He had no time for malingerers, and persistent offenders were often given a concoction containing no more than a mixture of lactose and some other foul-tasting substance. This smelled malodorous enough to convince the patient that it would cure them of their imagined ailment and had the added advantage of allowing Doctor Skinner to charge three shillings and sixpence a bottle. There was many a mother who had regretted taking her child to see Doctor Skinner about a sore throat. The next day the unfortunate boy or girl would be laid out on their own kitchen table and with the merest whiff of chloroform, Doctor Skinner would remove the tonsils. Such was the reverence in which the good doctor was held, nobody questioned these methods, and he had built up a reputation in the community of being able to cure anything. All the well-off people in the vicinity went to see Doctor Skinner. They were permitted to use the front door of the surgery and allowed to wait in the pleasant surroundings of the Skinners’ dining room. Chrissie would even make them tea while they were waiting. There was no appointments system as such, but it was accepted by everyone that ‘front door’ patients took precedence over those who had had to enter via the back door. These were the less well-off people who struggled to pay the doctor’s bills and were considered a nuisance to him. Unfortunately, it seemed that these characters fell ill with more regularity than the good people of Manchester who had the money and grace to pay him on time. Chrissie was frequently embarrassed by her father’s harsh attitude, and on more than one occasion had let customers off without paying. She had become rather adept at hiding these bad debts when she worked on the accounts for the practice. Doctor Skinner may have been a talented physician, but an accountant he was not.

Chrissie decided to leave the bicycle where it was for now and picked up the brown paper bag from the basket on the front. This contained four more medicine bottles which needed to be delivered. Chrissie had personally made up the concoctions herself and carefully applied the sealing wax and white label noting the names of the patients. She was relieved to find two of the bottles were for the same patient, so that meant just three more house calls and she was finished for the day. It was important that she was home on time today because tonight she was going to defy her strict parents’ stringent rules and go to The Buccaneer Dance Hall with her friend, Sylvia. They had known each other since their schooldays when Sylvia had taken her under her wing, and they had remained friends ever since. They were complete opposites in almost every respect, but somehow their friendship had endured all the obstacles, not the least of which was the disapproval of Sylvia by Chrissie’s parents. They believed she was a bad influence on their daughter and, while not expressly forbidding that they see each other, certainly did everything they could to discourage the closeness between the two girls. Chrissie was just amazed that Sylvia wanted anything to do with her at all. She was the most gregarious girl Chrissie knew, tall with long, striking raven hair, and never short of male attention. Both girls were nineteen years old, but Chrissie had never even been out with a boy. Her parents would simply not allow it, and before now Chrissie had respected their wishes. Tonight however, Dr and Mrs Skinner were going out to the annual dinner dance for local members of the General Medical Council and Chrissie had seized the opportunity to arrange a clandestine visit to The Buccaneer. As long as she was home before midnight, they would be none the wiser.

Chrissie collected her bicycle and pushed it the rest of the way home. Waiting at the garden gate was Leo, their ever-faithful Airedale Terrier. He really was the most loyal, brave, intelligent creature Chrissie had ever known. Whenever Chrissie went out on her rounds he would wait patiently at the gate for her return, whereupon she would be greeted with uncontained excitement. His whole body wiggled from side to side as he wagged his tail and his lips actually curled up at the sides so that he looked as though he was smiling. If Dr Skinner was out visiting patients and was required urgently back at the surgery, then Leo would be despatched with a note around his collar into the neighbourhood to find him.