Women on the Home Front (129 page)

Susan sat in a trance listening to the hymn, such a familiar hymn but in such a strange place. Memories came flooding back, of the high-vaulted roof, the fan whirring, the heat of the old church. She was so cold she could hardly think for the chattering of her teeth.

I am a prisoner now, she decided, a prisoner in a cold dark dungeon with no escape, only lies and sleeping next to the enemy: the girl who stole my sweetheart; the big liar with dark eyes and big bosoms.

Her spirits sank so low she wanted to fade away but Joy bounced on her knee, unaware that she was fatherless and nameless. Joy was the one true precious trophy.

So many babies took sick and died on the trek north, bundles passed down and buried at the border on Burmese soil, little graves in the track. Her child was round and rosy and full of life, a special gift. Big Ana’s baby was plain and too thin and cried. Joy was the true number one daughter.

She would be strong for her, fight for her and make her a true Winstanley. She recalled the night Joy was made. Her cheeks flushed and for a second she felt the heat of the tropical night.

It was a night of a thousand stars. They had danced and she had worn her best silk skirt with a blouse the colour of orchid pink. They had walked back slowly to the veranda where Auntie Betty would be waiting, Susan’s heart aching, for it was Freddie’s last night of leave.

‘You go and forget your Susan,’ she whined.

‘Never, it will be just like the song, ”
We’ll Meet Again”’.

‘Have you told your mother about me?’

‘I’ve told my friends…Don’t look so sad.’

‘Why will they not let us marry?’ she pleaded.

‘It’s rules, army rules. We’ll be together soon though, and now you’ve got those earrings…’

‘They’re beautiful. I love you so much. Come close. I’ll let down my hair so you can see how long it grows.’ She swished a coil across his nose. ‘It smells of fragrant oil?’

‘Come here and let me kiss you one more time,’ he sighed, pulling her close.

‘Now I will give you a special gift in return. I am not a bar girl or quick-and-easy girl. I give my loving so you will remember me.’ She flung herself in his arms and led him down the path to the little wadi, burying her face in his shoulder while he covered her eyelids with kisses. She felt his lashes like butterfly wings on her cheek.

‘You think Susan is wicked to love you? Am I bad?’ She unwrapped her skirt and they lay on it, making love under the shrubs to the music of the night.

She breathed in his kisses; he smelled of the barracks’ tobacco, a soldier’s scent. He kissed her tiny breasts and fingered them lovingly, whispering her name like a cool fan. She melted under him, opening up to him with such joy and eagerness. As he entered there was pain and wonder. Then it was over and she longed for something more.

In the dim light it was hard to see where she ended
and he began but the lemony dawn light rose in the sky all too soon. Their limbs were coiled around each other. She could hear his heart beating. They had become as one.

‘You’re so beautiful. How can I leave you now?’

‘You will write?’

‘I will write but if danger comes I might not be able to. When the war is over but there are still pockets of resistance in the hills. Stay with Auntie Betty and I will come for you.’

‘Promise?’ she pleaded.

‘Promise. Here’s my address in England just in case.’

But you didn’t come. You left me for her…You forgot your Susan.

One day soon she and Walt would stand before the congregation for their wedding ceremony, Lily mused. Here was where Freddie sucked gobstoppers under the pew and kicked the back panels, squirming until the clock got round to twelve, when Polly would be dishing out the Sunday roast. Here was where they brought Dad before his burial.

The church was full of memories-celebrations and sadness. It was right they should see off their brother with due honour. What a turnout! Looking up at the congregation spilling out into the balcony above, she felt comforted by the sea of familiar faces. There was all the Grimbleton football team staring down at her. What an honour that they should come and pay tribute to an old school pal. What a show for her kid brother! Tears bubbled to the surface-tears of sadness, not
only for herself but for those happy childhood memories, the longing to live happier times again, knowing she’d never see him or Dad again. Then there were the two young girls who sat like statues, lost in their own thoughts, salty tears of disappointment running down their faces. No going back for any of them now. A Brown Owl knew her duty and responsibility. How could she think of abandoning them in a strange country?

Don’t you worry, Freddie, I’ll be their champion, come what may, she vowed. I shan’t let you down whatever the cost, she thought, twisting Walter’s engagement ring round her wedding finger for comfort. It had been chosen from a tray of second-hand rings: a tiny hoop of sapphire chippings, modest but so precious, the best of the bunch within his budget and post-war shortages. Walter insisted she chose it herself and he’d pay on the drip. Now it was loose. With all the worry of the past week there was no time to eat. She hoped they’d done Freddie proud.

He’d never been religious but she knew he would have liked the hymns they’d chosen.

Susan was sitting in the front and she was obviously used to English worship. The ruby and gold earrings shimmered in a shaft of light from the side window. Ana sat hunched over, not understanding much, trying to be invisible, clutching her restless baby. What a contrast these strangers were: a copper knob with her golden-haired girl, and the little dark one with her plump toddler whose fingers were into everything.

The organist attempted Freddie’s regimental march
and they shuffled out, trying to look dignified, spilling out into the street like a flow of black lava. The sky was threatening more fog and ice. The pavements were piled high with dirty leaves from front gardens, the cart horses left pools of frozen dung staining the cobbles brown and yellow. There was no disguising the ugliness of this damp afternoon but hands must be shaken and condolences received before they made for Waverley House and the funeral tea.

Everyone had chipped in to make food for the guests. Crompton’s Biscuits even provided traditional spice biscuits. The Chapel Ladies’ Bright Hour were organising sandwiches, rolls and tray bakes for the usual suspects, who liked to have a nosy round and scoff anything going. Not that Lily begrudged giving hospitality, but she sensed most of them were here because of the new arrivals.

Ivy was showing off little Neville in his velvet trousers and knitted jumper. The other toddlers were whipped out of sight for their nap and Esme was giving orders from her seat in the parlour: ‘Concertina needs a nappy change…’ She had that pained look etched into her jaw when her corsets were digging in too tightly but her eyes were dull with grief and shock.

Ana whipped up the child with a scowl. ‘We say in Greece, husband’s mother is cross all wife must bear,’ Ana whispered to Susan. ‘My Dina is not called Concertina.’

Lily pretended she had not heard as Walt made a beeline for Susan.

‘Well, I never! This is the new Mrs Winstanley then?
He beat us to the altar, Lil,’ he winked as Susan lifted her finger so everyone could see.

‘No, this is Cousin Cedric’s widow from London,’ Lily announced loudly.

‘I never knew you had a cousin,’ Walt continued. ‘So that one over there’s the bride,’ he said, pointing his sausage roll at Ana. ‘Blimey! I never thought Fred’d settle down with a copper knob, a ginger biscuit. Who’d a thowt it!’ He burst out laughing but Lily wasn’t amused. He plonked himself down in the softest chair by the fireside and got out his cigarettes. That would be him settled for the afternoon now.

Ivy was on the warpath, passing tongue sandwiches along a line of guests with that pained expression of hers, no doubt wishing she was a thousand miles away. Susan stood in the shadows looking awkward. This long-lost relative, dressed in her one decent silk blouse and thin skirt, was wearing Lily’s borrowed cardigan, which smelled of mothballs. Ivy edged herself round the sides of the room as no one was bothering to talk to her. Esme was receiving condolences from the neighbours. Better then to make those girls useful clearing up plates to take to Polly in the kitchen. They were banging down the cups and saucers onto trays until Esme caught their eye.

‘That’s my best china you’re cracking,’ she muttered, turning to Lily. ‘If you want any left over for your cabinet one day, I suggest you leave Polly to clear away. Take them upstairs, and what’s all this I hear about you and Walt naming the big day?’

‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it,’ she replied, puzzled.
The two of them had scarcely passed two words on the subject for weeks. What was he playing at?

‘I’m glad to hear it. A funeral is enough for my nerves, and with that lot upstairs to sort out…Is it hot in here?’ Esme was fanning herself like fury. ‘There’s no brass to fork out on weddings yet. I’m not made of money, Lil. We need you here now.’

‘I know, I know. I expect he was just trying to cheer you up,’ she sighed. It was good that Walt was showing some initiative but he should have asked her first before blabbing about dates. Weddings were the last thing on her mind at the moment.

‘The thought of you hitched up with that lazy loon over there gives me no cause for celebration,’ Esme added.

‘Oh, give it a rest! It’s been a long day,’ Lily snapped back, making for the stairs.

‘Lily Winstanley, that’s no way to talk to your mother!’

‘Oh, shut up, all of you,’ Lily muttered under her breath. There was only so much of her family she could stomach in one day.

Esme was trying to pin a smile on her face and look in control, but Lily’s words were out of character. Giving cheek back like that! All this ‘Family First’ was exhausting, keeping up appearances and fending off awkward questions. Trust neighbours to smell something fishy going on, but she’d not give them the satisfaction. It was like being in the goal mouth, trying to parry off an attack. It needed everyone knowing their right position on the
pitch, no gaps in the defence to let in a winning shot or an own goal.

She’d been touched to see so many of Freddie’s old pals. She’d welcome any one of them on board their team, but not Walter, all fingers and thumbs. Lily had scored an own goal in choosing him. Why didn’t she fancy one of the young Grasshoppers?

Esme kicked off her court shoes with relief and loosened her back suspenders. She’d put on a bit of weight since this outfit was made, a bit of middle-age spread, and it didn’t suit her. Then she saw Pete Walsh heading in her direction, wobbling his tea cup, the Royal Doulton bone china looking in peril on its saucer.

‘I’m glad I caught you, Mrs Winstanley,’ smiled the tall young man with hands like boxing gloves. ‘The lads and I want to thank you for the spread. You’ve done Freddie proud…’ He hesitated. ‘But I wonder if I could have a word as I’m a bit flummoxed.’

She ushered him into the bay window recess.

‘You know that Susan? Well, someone said she was his cousin’s wife from London, only when Freddie wrote to me from Burma, he
did
mention a Susan.’ He paused, searching her face. ‘It’s not her, is it?’

Straight in the net like a cannon ball: one nil! She glanced to see if there were any onlookers.

‘So you know about her then?’ she whispered.

‘He told me about her but not about the kiddy.’ Pete looked her straight in the eye.

‘What else did he tell you?’

He had the courtesy to blush, ‘Just lads’ talk and stuff…’

‘I can guess,’ she smiled. ‘You’ve put me in an awkward position, young man.’

‘My lips are sealed, Mrs Winstanley.’

‘Who else knows the score?’

‘Not a soul. I thought I’d better check it out first,’ he said, showing a set of impressive straight teeth.

‘I’d rather keep this in the family, Peter. Not a word to our Lil. She’s enough on her plate.’

‘Silent as the grave, I promise. Scout’s honour,’ he smiled, and he sidled away as Levi approached.

‘You two were in a holy huddle. What did he want? I hope you asked him for tickets for the Cup tie.’

‘Just giving his condolences. He’s a grand chap.’

‘The boys were saying how good the foreigners’ English was.’ He winked and tapped his nose. ‘Don’t look like that. I gave them the party line. I told them they’d both had good sleeping dictionaries.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean, son?’

Levi chuckled. ‘Well, let’s put it this way, Mam, the closer you get to someone the quicker you learn. There was this German girl I knew who was fluent in Cockney when she got a Tommy boyfriend.’

‘I don’t want to know about consorting with the enemy.’

‘What enemy?’ asked Lily, suddenly at her shoulder.

‘Never you mind. Just go and rattle some cups and show the guests the door. I’m whacked.’

‘We did Freddie proud today, all of us,’ said Lily.

‘I wish he’d done the same to us, and that’s the truth of it,’ Esme sighed, feeling old and worn out. What a web of lies we weave…Perhaps she should tell Lil that
Pete Walsh was in the know, perhaps not. They would just have to play the game as it unfolded now.

Ana couldn’t wait for the last guest to leave. Susan went upstairs with the girls, who were covered in chocolate. Someone had brought them a treat. Lily’s man was sitting in a chair chain-smoking, being waited on hand and foot on account of his bad back. Women were made for men, her mother once said, but this one was a greedy pig. He ate a plateful of biscuits at one go. The room was a fug of cigarette smoke. Ana finished her duties and went upstairs with relief.

She found Susan undressing Dina, who was bouncing with delight naked, and making a joyful din. It was the last straw.

‘What you do with my baby?’ she snapped.

‘I’m getting them both ready for a bath. I will save you the trouble,’ Su replied, putting up her fingers to peg her nose in disgust.

‘She my baby…I do that,’ Ana insisted.

‘Yes, but she is dirty and her bottom is red, you see?’ Su answered.