Better Days Will Come (17 page)

Grace was meeting Archie again. She looked forward to these little Sunday walks together. Sometimes they walked along the sea front noting the changes as the last of the concrete sea defences were removed and a few more planks of wood were added to the store on the pier. Work to repair it was painfully slow because of the shortages; building houses was a priority and everything else had to take second place. During their first excursion, Archie had mentioned that he was making a delivery to Richmond. Grace felt her heartbeat quicken. ‘Is that near London?’

‘Yes,’ said Archie. ‘Want to come?’

‘It’s about my daughter …’ she continued.

‘I thought it might be,’ he smiled. ‘You can get the train into central London from there although I doubt you’ll bump intoher. London is one hell of a place, you know?’

She was so grateful and he’d even agreed to change the day to Friday so she didn’t have to ask for time off work.

Today they caught a bus up to High Salvington. The wind was fresh. Grace was glad she had worn her thick knitted cardigan under her coat. Once they’d walked away from the bus stop, it was grand being up there looking across the big meadow towards Highdown Hill in the distance where, during the war years, they had had a radar station. All that was gone now and the countryside was returning to the way it had always been. Trees were coming into bud and everything had a fresh newness about it. As usual, they didn’t talk much. They both enjoyed a companionable silence.

Bonnie was never far from her thoughts. What was she doing? Had she met a boy? Was she married? Grace tried to imagine having a married daughter and perhaps one day, a grandchild.

She was worried about Kaye Wilcox as well. The girl had lost a lot of weight and Grace and Snowy wondered if she was ill. She didn’t talk much these days, even though they did their best to befriend her. She just got on with her work and walked home alone.

Grace and Archie had been walking together for about five weeks. It started with the New Year’s walk with his friends in the Ramblers Association. Although most of the people were retired or well to do, she and Archie hadn’t felt out of place at first. Everyone went out of their way to make them feel welcome but after a while, the class divisions began to show. The catalyst came when Mrs Pumfrey asked Grace if she would consider waiting on tables for her at one of her dinner parties. Grace had been happy to do so – after all, the money would come in handy to help get rid of her debt – but once it became known that Grace was a working woman, the rest of the group stuck to their own kind. Far from being offended, Grace didn’t really care because by that time Archie had asked her to walk with him.

With no one else able to eavesdrop on their conversations, she and Archie opened up to each other. He told Grace of the shock he had had when he’d come home to find his wife expecting another man’s baby.

‘I suppose I shouldn’t blame her,’ he said sadly. ‘She was lonely and I was away, but I can’t say it didn’t hurt. She wrote me such loving letters, I hadn’t a clue what was going on.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Grace said quietly.

‘I was willing to try and make a go of it,’ he went on, ‘but she said she wanted a better life.’

Grace told him about Michael. It felt funny talking about him with another man but Archie was a good listener. ‘How is Rita coping without her sister?’

‘She pretends to have taken it all in her stride,’ Grace said uncertainly, ‘and she doesn’t talk about her sister much, but she doesn’t fool me. They were very close but she’s made new friends. She goes around to the café a lot.’

‘To Liliana and Salvatore’s place?’

‘Yes,’ said Grace. ‘I try not to mind but it is a bit upsetting when she prefers to be with Liliana more than me.’

Archie laughed. ‘I think she’s more interested in that handsome nephew of hers. All the girls are crazy for him.’

Grace laughed. ‘I think Rita is safe from his advances.’

‘She does know that he’s not interested in women?’ said Archie.

‘Oh yes,’ said Grace, but now that he’d suggested it, she wasn’t so sure. She sighed wistfully. ‘I wish Bonnie would get in touch. How could she go off like that without even a backward glance?’

‘Sometimes people feel awkward about getting in touch again,’ said Archie, ‘especially when they’ve left it so long, but I’m sure if you are grieving for her, she’ll be grieving for you. Like you say, you’re a close knit family.’

Grace wasn’t sure how he felt about her, but she liked Archie a lot. He filled her thoughts day and night. She fell asleep thinking about his dark eyes and when she dreamed at night, it was of his kisses. When she woke up, he was her first thought in the morning. She was frustrated that in all this time, he hadn’t so much as held her hand. She supposed it was because he had been so badly betrayed. It was hard to trust another person when the one you’d loved had deceived you for so long.

As they walked along Honeysuckle Lane towards Long Furlough, the quietness of the countryside enveloped them. The only sound apart from the occasional bird song was a dog barking in the distance.

‘You and I have the same landlord, don’t we?’ he said, breaking into her thoughts.

Grace nodded. ‘Norris Finley. He owns most of the properties around our way.’

Archie looked thoughtful. ‘I can’t get him to give me a rent book.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Grace. ‘That’s an old trick of his. He makes a verbal agreement but if he doesn’t like you or he wants the property for someone else, he ups the rent until you’re forced to move.’

‘Is that it,’ said Archie. ‘I had wondered if the rent collector was adding a bit of commission for himself. My rent has gone up another ten bob since I moved in.’

‘It’s a real worry for a lot of my neighbours,’ said Grace, ‘but what can you do? Everybody is scared of eviction.’

‘The only way to stop something like that is to band together,’ said Archie.

‘Easier said than done,’ Grace said gloomily.

‘Grace,’ said Archie changing the subject as quickly as he had brought it up. ‘I really enjoy these walks of ours …’

He hesitated. She said nothing but kept walking, willing her face not to flame.

‘I don’t want to spoil what we already have,’ he went on, ‘and I don’t want to rush you but I should like something more.’

Grace could feel her heart beginning to thud. She felt as giddy as a schoolgirl.

‘You’re becoming very special to me,’ he said, tugging at her arm and making her stop. ‘Grace, could we … I mean is it possible … perhaps …’ She looked up and saw an anguished look flit across his face. ‘Oh hell, I’m making a right pig’s ear of this, aren’t I? What I mean is …’

‘Yes,’ she said.

He stared at her for a second. ‘What?’

‘Yes, I’d like to do other things with you,’ she smiled. ‘I enjoy dancing, and playing whist and the pictures and just being with you.’ She laughed softly and all at once she was in his arms and he was holding her so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds and then slowly, inevitably, he lowered his mouth towards hers andkissed her gently.

They parted and he looked at her again. She could feel the breeze blowing her hair and somewhere above her head a blackbird was singing.

He smiled at her lovingly. ‘Oh Gracie,’ he murmured and he kissed her again, this time more earnestly.

Rita stared at George’s coat and case where it lay on the bed in her room. It felt funny having it there, almost as if she’d stolen it. She had just come back from Mrs Kerr’s place and had brought it straight back. She was alone in the house. Mum was out walking with the Ramblers again.

She felt in the pockets of the raincoat first but there were only a couple of sweet wrappers (he liked Murray Mints), some keys and a dirty handkerchief. She tried the case but it was locked. When she tried one of the keys, it flew open. There were some brochures all about South Africa on the top. So they really were going to South Africa. She sat down beside the case. Hang on a minute, if he’d left the case behind, he couldn’t have gone to South Africa, could he? Did that mean that Bonnie had gone all that way on her own? Rita searched through the rest of his things. She didn’t take everything out, it didn’t feel right, but by sliding her hands inside she could see he had a case full of shirts, socks, underpants, a pair of trousers and some papers. Apart from his passport (he definitely couldn’t have gone to South Africa without that) and his birth certificate, the only other thing was an envelope. It was unsealed. Inside she found a letter. She looked at it for a long time before deciding to open it out and read it. A photograph fell out of the folds and Rita’s heart almost stopped. She was looking at a man dressed in an SS uniform and if that wasn’t shocking enough, the letter itself was in German.

The door banged downstairs and her mother called. ‘Hello … Rita?’

‘I’m up here,’ Rita called back. Her heart was thumping and her mouth felt dry. Her mother mustn’t see this. She stuffed the letter and the photograph back into the envelope and shut it in the case. She had to hide it. She looked around wildly. If her mother thought her sister had run away with an ex-Nazi it would kill her.

There was a built-in cupboard underneath the window ledge. Years ago Rita had discovered that one of the boards under the window was loose. She had pulled it up using her finger in theknothole. Nobody knew it was there so she had hidden her childish treasures in there. Rita and Bonnie always kept their shoes neatly lined under the window. She tossed her shoes onto the bed and opened it up. The cavity underneath the window was just big enough to wedge the case inside.

Her mother called out again. ‘I’ve put the kettle on. Want a cup of tea?’

‘Thanks, Mum.’

Rita put the board back in place but when she turned around, the coat was still on the bed. She opened it up again and stuffed the coat around the case. Then she heard her mother coming up the stairs.

‘Whatever are you doing up here?’ Grace was asking.

Rita pushed the board back in place and sat on the bed. As Grace walked into the room, Rita held up a shoe. ‘Just look at my shoes, Mum,’ she said casually. ‘I really need a new pair. Have we got enough coupons?’

Bonnie’s waters broke in the middle of the afternoon. An ambulance took her to the hospital where she was left behind a curtained area to ‘get on with it’. Occasionally a nurse, complete with mask and gown, would come to tell her how the labour was progressing. It was done with quiet efficiency but the pain was excruciating.

At one point Bonnie murmured, ‘I never thought it would hurt this much.’

The sister leaned over the bed. ‘You should have thought of that before you opened your legs, shouldn’t you,’ she hissed unkindly.

A tear sprang to Bonnie’s eye but when she had gone another nurse, clearly lower in rank, touched her arm sympathetically. ‘Don’t take any notice of her, the frustrated dried-up old prune.’

Bonnie smiled gratefully and concentrated on coping with the next pain which was on its way. During the long and protracted labour she thought a lot about George. She had loved him so much. He loved children and she’d thought he’d make a great father. How could he have deceived her so well? She also thought a lot about her mother. How she wished Mum were here. Her soothing voice was all Bonnie needed. How was she? It had been almost six months since she’d seen her. Six long and lonely months.
Oh Mum
, she thought during a short lull,
I miss you. I miss you so much
. And then another pain took away every other thought in her head.

Shirley came into the world at 10.25 the following morning, April 19th. She weighed in at 7lbs 6oz and she had a lusty cry.

‘Is she keeping it?’ the sister said coldly as she took Shirley from the doctor after her first examination.

‘Yes I am,’ said Bonnie. She would have dearly loved to get off the bed and smack the old cow but it was important to stay calm. She was afraid that if she antagonised the woman she might take it out on her baby. As soon as the afterbirth came away, the sister left and the nurse cleaned her up. After that, Bonnie was moved to the ward in a wooden wheelchair.

The beds were very close to each other and most were occupied. Each woman had a locker and a chair. At the foot of each bed was a cot but Shirley wasn’t in hers. Alarmed, Bonnie spun round.

‘She’s in the nursery,’ said the nurse. ‘We always let baby have a rest until the next feed. She’ll come to you then. You have a sleep, dear. You’ve been working very hard.’

Bonnie lay between the crisp white starched sheets and closed her eyes. She was exhausted but she couldn’t sleep – not until she’d held her baby, her Shirley.

They brought Shirley for the two o’clock feed. Bonnie put her to the breast and Shirley sucked strongly.

‘Ten minutes each side,’ said the nurse. ‘And sit her up in between to bring up her wind.’

The experience was like nothing she’d ever had before. The intimacy, the wonder of her perfectly formed little fingers, the tug of her mouth on her breast, Bonnie was overawed. She loved this little being more than she had ever loved anyone in her whole life. She would move heaven and earth for her, even die for her.

‘Press her chin down with your finger when you want her to come off,’ said the woman in the bed next to her when she saw Bonnie watching the clock. ‘They never told me that, and I ended up with cracked nipples.’

‘Thank you,’ Bonnie smiled.

Winded and full, Shirley gave Bonnie a long unfocused stare. She was so like George. She had his nose and his strong jawline. Bonnie sighed. Perhaps it was just as well that he wasn’t here. He would have been disappointed not to have a son. She cuddled the baby closer and rubbed her lips on the top of Shirley’s downy head, whispering, ‘I wonder where your daddy is now, darling.’

The factory had closed in late autumn of the previous year. Already the frontage was covered in weeds and a quantity of household waste, including an old pram with no wheels, had been dumped at the side of the building. Harold White, estate agent, wrinkled his nose with disapproval. Shifting empty buildings was hard enough in these harsh economic times but letting a place go to rack and ruin would make it doubly difficult. No sensible buyer would want to be lumbered with huge clean-up costs as well. He made a mental note that whatever came out of this viewing, he would have some harsh words to say to the vendor.