Chocolate Girls (26 page)

Those first weeks she’d been happy just knowing they loved each other. But by now almost two years had passed since they had parted and she had to work hard to keep the image of him and his love alive. She struggled to see his face in her mind. Who was he, really, that stranger who left her all those months ago? Was he real? How could she love someone whom she could barely remember? Why could love never be straightforward in her life? She had lost Alec, the baby, and now Martin had been snatched from her as soon as she had found him.

She had started knitting a big navy blue sweater for Martin, each stitch an act of love. She imagined him wearing it across his broad shoulders. It felt like a physical link with him.

She lay trying to recall the feel of his lips on hers, that overwhelming look of love in his eyes.

‘I love you,’ she told the image. ‘I do. I’m waiting for you, Martin darling. Only please write and tell me you love me. If it wasn’t for this wretched war, we’d be together – maybe even married by now.’

She heard the front door open and Edie and Ruby came in together. Janet lay listening to the assorted sounds of the two of them and the children. Once Ruby had gone, she heard Edie coming upstairs, and sat up, wiping her eyes.

‘Janet?’ Edie’s voice came through the gloom. ‘Are you in there?’

‘Yes.’ She tried to sound normal. It was only then she realized she’d been lying in the dark.

‘Goodness, I can’t see a thing!’ Edie groped her way across the room and Janet felt her sit on the bed. ‘Frances said you were upset. Nothing from Martin again?’

Janet tried to speak but only a sob escaped.

‘Oh Janet – oh dear!’ Edie’s arms were round her immediately, letting her cry it out. She knew how Janet was suffering, week after week. ‘You poor thing . . . I wish I could
make
a letter come for you!’

‘Oh – I’m just being silly. But it all wells up sometimes. Sometimes I think I dreamt him.’

‘Well, you
didn’t
,’ Edie said fiercely. She stroked Janet’s back. ‘He really loves you. And you’re so brave about it. I wouldn’t be, I know.’

‘Oh, you would,’ Janet said, thinking how many times she’d admired Edie’s quiet strength, her devotion to people she loved. ‘I’m sure you would.’

On Sunday, as the day was bright and calm, Edie took Davey for a walk to the park while Frances and Janet were still out at the Friends’ Meeting House. Sometimes they went along as well, and Edie enjoyed the serene silence of the hour, but she had not made any commitment to go all the time and today she felt like getting out in the fresh air. She was always pleased to get some time to herself with Davey, to walk through the park to the boating lake. It was nice not having Marleen around, screaming and carrying on every time something didn’t go her way. They walked down past the Bournville School with its carillon in the tower.

‘Will the bells ring?’ Davey’s serious face turned up towards her.

‘Not now – it’s not the right time.’ Edie smiled down at him. He had grown into a beautiful child, pink-cheeked, with long-lashed brown eyes and dark curls. She had cut his hair yesterday though and he suddenly looked older. A proper little man, she thought.

‘How
many
bells are there?’

‘Well now – d’you remember, Frances told us this?’ Davey was always asking earnestly, how
many
, how
much
of everything. ‘They built it again, in 1934, and added some more bells. There are forty-eight now.’

Davey’s brow wrinkled. ‘How many were there before?’

‘Oh dear – I can’t remember exactly. We’ll have to ask Auntie Frances again. But I do remember she told us that the biggest bell weighs three tons!’

‘Is that very heavy?’

‘Yes – ever so heavy.’

‘
How
heavy?’

Edie tutted. She sometimes felt that although Davey was not even four, he was already in some way beyond her.

‘Very, very heavy, sweetheart. Not even a big strong man could lift it. Come on – let’s go down to the water.’

His favourite pastime of the moment was throwing pebbles into the little brook which ran through the park, and he was soon trotting up and down, pink knees visible between short trousers and socks, absorbed in picking up every stone he could find and earnestly watching the splash it made. Edie stood watching, hugging her old black coat round her, enjoying the winter sun on her face, loving the sight of ‘her’ boy playing. She felt suddenly lighthearted. The sirens very seldom went now and the fear and pressure of the Blitz had receded. She had been moved to several different jobs at work over the past months, filling anti-aircraft rockets in the Nissen huts which sprung up on the bank of the canal, then assembling parts for Spitfires. Now she was back on respirators. There was still chocolate being produced – Ration Chocolate, Blended Chocolate made with powdered milk for the nation’s chocolate ration – 3 ounces a week.

For many, the war meant separation, worry, and the daily inconvenience of shortages. Edie suffered on Janet’s behalf, knowing the awful waiting to hear from Martin, but for herself she counted these years, almost guiltily, as the happiest of her life. She felt cocooned living with the Hattons, cared for and happy with Davey. She had no husband or sweetheart to worry about and didn’t miss married life. She enjoyed the hours of companionship with Janet, Frances and Ruby and felt she was living in a happy dream, with the camaraderie of work and the cosy domesticity of home. For the last two summers the Lord Mayor had begun, through Cadbury’s, a ‘Stay at Home Holidays Scheme’ at Rowheath Garden Club and Lido. All they had to do was climb aboard the number 36 tram and walk out into the green of the Rowheath Club, where they could swim in the pool, picnic, join in folk dances and listen to the band. The football pitches had been dug up for allotments, but there was still plenty of space for people to enjoy themselves. Edie had spent many a happy weekend afternoon and summer evening at Rowheath with Davey and Marleen, taking packets of sandwiches and cake to keep them going. It had been heaven.

‘Come on, let’s walk on a bit,’ she called to Davey.

‘One more!’ He threw overarm, hurling a stone down into the water with all his strength, then trotted after her, cheeks glowing.

‘Whose birthday is it this week?’ she asked, taking his hand.

‘Mine?’ As far as he knew, his birthday was 19 November.

‘Yes – put your mitts on, your hands’re cold.’

‘And I’ll be four!’

‘You’re getting big.’

‘
How
big am I, ’zackly?’

‘Oh Davey!’ she laughed, exasperated, laying a hand on his head. ‘You’re
that
big – that’s how big!’

Janet came into the hall when they got back.

‘Someone called to see you while you were out.’

‘Who?’ Edie was unbuttoning Davey’s coat.

‘I don’t know. She wouldn’t say.’

Something in Janet’s tone made Edie straighten up, her pulse quickening.

‘Well, what did she want?’

Janet wore a slight frown. ‘She just came to the door and said was this where Edie Weale was living. I asked if she wanted to wait and she said no, she’ll come back but she needs to see you. She wouldn’t give her name.’

Edie felt as if her veins were full of ice water. She sank down on to the chair in the hall.

‘What did she look like?’

‘Pale face, dark hair.’ Janet shrugged. ‘Rather serious-looking.’

‘Oh—’ Edie’s hand went to her throat. Seeing Davey looking up at her she urged him towards the kitchen. ‘Go on, bab, go and see Frances.’

Janet understood immediately. This was what Edie dreaded most, year after year, in an unspoken corner of her mind. That someone was out there who belonged to Davey – that one day they would find her, come to claim him as their own. She put her hand on Edie’s shoulder.

‘Look – it’s probably nothing important.’

‘Dark-haired, you said?’ The colour had drained from Edie’s face. ‘Dark, like him. Oh God, Janet, it could be his mother . . .’

‘Yes, Edie – but then it could be absolutely anyone. Come on – lunch is ready. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. You mustn’t fear the worst just because someone calls at the house.’

The last thing Edie felt like was eating, but she did her best to appreciate the ration of meat that Frances had managed to get hold of for the weekend. They didn’t talk about what was on her mind, not in front of Davey, and Edie tried to concentrate on Frances’s news about their Quaker friends. All the time her mind multiplied its fears. It had to come – she had had too much happiness while other people were suffering. She had taken a child that wasn’t hers and now they were coming to take him away. How could she have thought life would carry on in this tranquil way? She heard her mother’s mocking voice in her head. ‘Nothing comes without a price, wench – and don’t you forget it.’ After the meal she washed up, her hands shaking, ears straining constantly for that knock at the door.

She was playing on the floor with Davey, building towers and forts out of wooden blocks, when the knocker rapped abruptly, three times. Eveyone looked at one another for a second. Edie got up, legs shaking.

‘I’ll go.’

She tried to see if she could make out the caller through the distorted glass light in the door, but she could only see the top of a green felt hat. Bracing herself, she pulled the door open.

For a second she was so primed to see a stranger that she didn’t recognize her. Then she almost burst into tears of relief.

‘Florrie! What in heaven’s name’re you doing here? Was it you called earlier?’

Florrie nodded. She seemed wary of the house. ‘They said you was out.’

‘Why didn’t you give your name? I couldn’t think who could be calling. You coming in?’

‘Oh no, I don’t think so.’ Florrie pulled at her coat cuffs in an agitated way. ‘Thing is, Edie, I come up last night with the kids to see our mom. And I’ve found her in a right state.’

‘State? What about?’

‘Not like that. She’s bad, Edie. There’s summat bad the matter with ’er. Course she hadn’t let on, she ain’t said nothing to you . . .?’

‘I’ve not been in months,’ Edie said stiffly. ‘I don’t get any sort of welcome when I do, so why bother? Rodney’s been up here, and I’ve seen our dad a couple of times . . .’

Florrie wasn’t listening. ‘I got it out of ’er in the end. The doctor says she’s got some kind of growth inside ’er. She looks bad, Edie, thin as a rake, except her belly’s all out as if she’s nine months gone. She won’t hear about it though. Just keeps saying not to make a fuss. Only I can’t keep coming up all the way from Coventry. You’ll ’ave to go over and give her a hand.’

Edie agreed that she’d call in, and after hearing briefly about her sister’s family, watched her skinny figure hurry off down the road. She had to get the kids on the train to Coventry. Edie caught herself letting out a tremulous sigh of relief. Although it was bad news, she knew that it wasn’t the worst, the news she truly dreaded. That could only ever be something connected with Davey.

Rodney let her in. As soon as she stepped into the Charlotte Road house Edie knew things had changed. No one was in the back room and it was so quiet, even for the middle of a Sunday afternoon, that she found herself whispering, ‘Where is everyone?’

Rodney nodded towards the front room. ‘Our dad made up a fire in there today.’ ‘Why didn’t you tell me Mom was poorly?’ Rodney shrugged gracelessly. ‘’Er never said. It were only when Florrie came . . .’

Edie had waited until she was sure Florrie would have left for Coventry before going over. She could do without her sister’s bossing. She crept to the front room. It was very warm and there was an odd, sickly smell. Her father was asleep in the chair, his braces loosened, head back and mouth ajar, breathing loudly. Something about the sight of him troubled her and it took her a moment to pin it down. He hadn’t shaved! Dennis Marshall, gentleman barber, had a growth of stubble on his chin! Tiptoeing round to look at her mother, Edie stifled a gasp. Nellie never, ever succumbed to sleeping in the daytime, even on Sunday. That in itself was startling enough, as was the fact they were sitting in the front room and even more, the incongrous sense of companionship which seemed to have arisen between her parents as they snoozed here together – something they never achieved when they were awake. But most shocking was her mother’s wasted appearance, her face sallow against the hard blue of her dress, the hair faded so there was barely a trace of ginger left. Her body looked shrunken suddenly, as if it had collapsed in on itself, and her wrists were stick-thin. The veins stood out on her wasted hand resting on the arm of the chair. Most disturbing of all was her prominent pot-belly, just as Florrie had described, as if Nellie was well advanced in pregnancy. For a crazed second Edie wondered if she
was
– was that it? – before telling herself not to be so stupid. Her mom was well past childbearing age.

She shoved Rodney back into the other room and pushed the door shut.

‘How’s long’s she been like that?’

Rodney shrugged. ‘Few weeks I s’pose. It sort of crept up, and one day ’er suddenly couldn’t never seem to get about. What’s up with ’er, Ede? She ain’t said nothing to me.’