Home Front Girls (49 page)

Lucy lifted her head and looked straight at Miranda with a desolate expression. ‘So now you know why Joel feels responsible for me. But I don’t
want
him to any more and I’ve told him so. The trouble is, he’s as stubborn as a mule and he says he would be breaking his promise to our mother if he ever left me. But now I just want him to be happy and I want Annabelle to be happy too and I feel as if I’m standing between them. It’s all my fault that they can’t be together!’

‘Oh, you poor, poor thing!’ Miranda could hardly believe what she had just heard, and yet now she could vaguely remember reading about the case in the newspapers some years ago. ‘You must never blame yourself for what’s happened,’ she told the girl. ‘None of this situation was your fault. Your father abused you and your mother was a very brave woman who saved you from a possible death sentence. You, too, saved your brother’s life. But you have to put it all behind you now somehow and go on with your life.’

‘And how am I supposed to do that?’ Lucy cried bitterly. ‘I’m soiled goods; no man would ever want me now. And while I’m here, Joel won’t get on with his life either and all because of a promise he made to our mother.’

Miranda hugged her again as she tried to think of a solution to this whole sorry mess, but for now, no ideas were forthcoming.

Lucy stayed for another hour although Miranda tried to persuade her to sleep at Primrose Lodge. She didn’t like the thought of the girl being alone in the state of mind she was in, but Lucy argued that Mrs P would worry if she didn’t go home to collect Harry.

And so Miranda found herself alone again and poured herself a large glass of scotch. She felt that she needed it after hearing Lucy’s story, even though she wasn’t much of a drinker. She lit a cigarette too and as she sat there in the darkness she thought how incredible it was that all three of the girls had such huge secrets in their past one way or another, and once they had been revealed, this had changed all their lives. Dotty’s for the better admittedly; at least she knew who her real parents were now. But it was a different story for Annabelle and Lucy. Lucy’s terrible secret had obviously been weighing heavily on her mind and she had seemed almost relieved to finally share it.

As always, Miranda’s thoughts returned to her daughter and her husband Richard. The thought of him being at the mercy of the Germans filled her with dread. The newspapers were full of the atrocious way the prisoners were being treated and the horrendous conditions they were forced to live in, and she wondered if he would survive it. And if he did, and came home, would he be the same man who had left? She didn’t see how he could be. No one could witness and endure things like that without it affecting them permanently, but she loved him so much she just wanted him home, whatever state he might be in.

And then finally there was Annabelle. Her heart ached as she thought of her. The girl had changed so much since the night she had learned of her adoption that sometimes Miranda barely recognised her now and she blamed herself. But Annabelle had been slightly more affectionate on her last visit, so perhaps she had turned a corner? If only she had told her daughter earlier that she was adopted this might have been avoided, but of course it was all too late for if onlys. She thought back to the time when Annabelle had started at Owen Owen and smiled wryly. The girl had been incensed at the thought of having to work for a living, yet after a time she had made a couple of friends and seemed to actually be enjoying it.

Miranda could remember clearly how surprised she had felt, the first time Annabelle brought Lucy and Dotty home to meet her. They had been so different from Annabelle’s usual choice of company and yet Miranda had warmed to them immediately. There was Dotty, so plain and shy, who wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Then there was Lucy, so protective of her family and so guarded when it came to speaking of her personal life. And now it seemed that Annabelle was in love with Lucy’s brother and poor Lucy felt as if she was standing between them. Everything was so complicated . . . Miranda just wished that she could put everything back to the way it had been before the war. Of course she couldn’t do that, so she poured herself another large scotch. It seemed to take the edge off all the sad things – and that couldn’t be a bad thing, surely?

‘You’re an early bird, ain’t yer?’ Mrs P said the next morning as Lucy appeared in the kitchen doorway with Harry. She was raking out the dead ashes before setting the fire and cooking breakfast, and she stared at Lucy curiously. ‘An’ ain’t that yer best coat yer wearin’?’

‘Is it?’ Lucy answered, looking flustered. ‘Oh, it was the first one I grabbed from the cupboard under the stairs. Never mind though. I don’t get to wear it much any more. I dare say an airing will do it good.’

‘Hmm.’ Mrs P stared at her more closely through narrowed eyes. The girl was as jumpy as a kitten and looked ready to burst into tears at the drop of a hat. But then that was nothing new lately. She lit the paper beneath the faggots of wood and held a newspaper over the hearth to create a vacuum and let the fire draw. Then she threw some coal onto the flames. Once she was sure that it had caught she rose off her plump knees and asked, ‘Seein’ as yer so early, do you want a cuppa afore yer go?’

‘No thanks, I won’t if you don’t mind. We’ve got some training on at work and that’s why I’m early.’ No need to light the fire today – I’ll be back in time to do it myself.’ The girl fumbled for a hankie.

It sounded plausible enough so Mrs P nodded as she bent to stroke Harry. ‘In that case then, you’d best be off. This one here’ll be fine wi’ me, won’t yer, matey?’

Lucy seemed to pause, but then she strode towards the door before turning to say quite unexpectedly, ‘You’ve been really golden to me, Mrs P. Almost like a second mum. And I really appreciate your kindness. I just wanted you to know that.’

Mrs P blushed and chuckled as she waved her hand at her. ‘Get away wi’ yer. I’ve just been a good neighbour, that’s all. Now get off while me an’ Harry here have our breakfast before me old man comes down.’

Lucy’s eyes lingered on the dog for a moment then with a little sigh she left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. There was something not quite right – Mrs P could feel it in her bones, though she couldn’t for the life of her put her finger on what it was. Her eyes strayed to the photographs of her children and they suddenly brimmed with tears. It was so long since she had seen her younger son Barry and the ‘baby’, Beryl, and sometimes she wondered if the bloody war was ever going to end. But then with her usual resilience she sniffed and swiped the tears away with the sleeve of her dressing-gown. Sitting there feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to solve anything, so she might as well get on with things the same as everyone else was having to do.

It was seven o’clock that night before Mrs P started to get really worried. Fred had been in from work for some time and having had his toad-in-the-hole and junket for afters was now snoring softly in the fireside chair with his feet stretched out to the flames and the
Daily Mail
in a heap on the rag rug beside him. Lucy should have been back hours ago, but there was still no sign of her.

Moving into the front parlour, Mrs P tweaked the blackout curtain aside and gazed out for a sign of the girl, but the street was deserted. It was dark and miserable, and rain was lashing against the windows as if trying to find a way in. Shuddering, Mrs P dropped the curtain and scuttled off to the warmth of the back room. Perhaps she’s decided to go straight from work to visit Miranda Smythe, she thought, but then dismissed that idea almost immediately. Had Lucy been planning to do that, she would have told her. The girl was very thoughtful that way.

‘Fred, I’m just gonna pop round next door to check that young Lucy ain’t back,’ she said to the slumbering figure in the chair, and after receiving a grunt as an answer she slipped out of the back door and crossed the yard. The house appeared to be in total darkness as she had expected, but after trying the back door with her spare key, she was surprised to find that it was unlocked. She inched it open before shouting, ‘Lucy, are yer in, pet?’

There was no answer so she went inside, and after ensuring that the blackouts were in place in the scullery, she clicked the light on. Everywhere was neat and tidy so now she entered the back room and did the same in there. She then noticed an envelope propped up against the cruet on the table and sucked in her breath when she saw that it was addressed to her. She slit it carefully open with a hairgrip, and then as her eyes scanned the page she sank heavily onto the nearest chair.

Dear Mrs P,

I know this will come as a shock to you and I’m sorry if it upsets you, but by the time you read this letter I shall be miles away and I shan’t be coming back. I hope that in time you’ll come to understand that it’s for the best. I know that Joel and Annabelle are in love but whilst I am about he will never leave me to begin any sort of life of his own and he deserves that. He’s the best brother in the world and I want both him and Annabelle to be happy.

I have left another envelope on the mantelpiece with enough money to pay the rent until Joel returns home and would be grateful if you would pay the rent man for me until that day arrives. I have also written to Joel and Annabelle to tell them what I am planning to do, but I don’t want any of you worrying about me. I have already got somewhere to live and another job lined up in another part of the country and one day I shall come back to see you all.

I hope you will forgive me for leaving this way and one day when you know the whole story of my past you may understand. In the meantime I hope you will adopt Harry for me. I know you love him as much as I do. He will be happy with you and Mr P, and will keep you company until your children come home.

You will never know what your kindness has meant to me since we had the good fortune to come to live next door to you, and I will always think of you with affection.

With much love,

Lucy xx

‘Aw lass,’ Mrs P muttered to the empty room as her face crumpled and tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘I knew somethin’ were up this mornin’, so why didn’t I stop yer goin’?’ And yet even as she said it, she knew that there was nothing she could have done. Lucy had obviously made her mind up to go and there would have been no stopping her.

‘Poor little sod,’ she breathed as she looked about the room. The girl hadn’t had much luck in life up to now, but perhaps this would be a new start for her.

When she got back to the warmth of her own room and showed the letter to Fred, he patted her arm comfortingly. ‘Well, yer know, I’ve seen this comin’,’ he remarked. ‘She ain’t been right for a while. A blind man on a gallopin’ donkey could have seen how unhappy she’s been. An’ in a funny sort o’ way, this might be the makin’ o’ the girl. What I mean is, it’s a whole fresh start fer her, an’ happen that’s just what she needs. It’ll be the makin’ o’ young Joel an’ all now, an’ he can live a more normal life as well.’

Mrs P nodded, hoping he was right – but oh, how she would miss her young neighbour!

Joel and Annabelle both received their letters the following week and after opening them it would have been hard to say who was the most shocked.

‘I can’t believe she’s done this,’ Annabelle groaned, waving the letter at Hilary who was crouched by the stove in their dormitory painting her toenails. They were off to a dance in Portsmouth that night and she wanted to look her best, seeing as it was her first evening off in three weeks. The VADS had been rushed off their feet after tending to the sailors whose ship had been bombed out at sea, or at least those who had survived it. Over half of the men aboard had perished in the ocean or died of their injuries shortly after arriving at Haslar.

‘Can’t believe who’s done what?’ Hilary asked as she stuck her tongue out and tried to reach her little toe.

Annabelle read the letter out to her and when she was done, Hilary grinned. ‘Didn’t I say that Joel had a soft spot for yer?’ she beamed. ‘Seems like yer mate knew it too, so now you’ll ’ave to go an’ see ’im an’ put fings right between you. There ain’t nuffink standin’ between yer now, is there?’

Annabelle frowned uncertainly. She and Joel had never really made any promises to each other, and perhaps she had only imagined that he had felt the same way as she did. She said as much now to Hilary, who snorted.

‘Well, there’s only one way to find out, ain’t there? An’ that’s to go an’ see the feller!’

‘But it’ll be weeks before I’m due any more leave,’ Annabelle objected.

‘So? He ain’t goin’ anywhere soon, is he? An’ in the meantime yer could write to ’im.’

‘I suppose I could,’ Annabelle admitted musingly. ‘And I think I ought to write to my mother as well. I’m afraid I’ve been rather awful to her and Daddy too for a long time now.’

‘Ain’t no time like the present,’ Hilary commented wisely. ‘You only get one mum an’ dad, be they adopted or otherwise.’ She was the only one at Haslar that Annabelle had ever confided in about her true parentage, and from the start Hilary had struggled to understand why Annabelle was so angry with them.

‘But they obviously took you in an’ loved yer because they wanted to,’ she had pointed out. ‘Why waste time worryin’ about yer real mam when she clearly didn’t want yer?’