Home Front Girls (8 page)

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It was as they were all leaving the store that night that Lucy turned to Dotty and offered, ‘Would you like to come home with me for a bit of tea and to meet Mary?’ She sensed a deep loneliness in the girl and had taken to her, which was unusual, as Lucy had always kept herself very much to herself, especially over the last few years. Since moving to Tile Hill, Joel and Mary had been her whole world, but now that Joel was gone there were times in the long evenings when she longed for another grown-up to talk to. Of course, there was Mrs P, but when she had put Mary to bed, that was the worst time. ‘It will only be sandwiches,’ she rushed on quickly. ‘Mrs P, that’s my neighbour who looks after Mary whilst I’m at work, will have given Mary a hot meal and I don’t usually bother cooking just for myself weekdays.’

Dotty’s cheeks glowed with delight at the unexpected invitation. ‘I . . . I’d love to,’ she stammered. After all, there was no one to rush home to and they didn’t live that far apart – so why not?

Soon they were sitting side by side on the bus as it crawled through the darkened streets with its headlights shielded, giving off the merest hint of light. Once again it was bitterly cold and both girls shivered as they gazed through the windows, not that there was much to see. All the houses had blackout curtains tightly drawn across the windows now and it brought home to both of them just how much the declaration of war had changed so many lives. Lucy was suddenly worried about what Joel would say if he were to find out that she’d invited someone into their home. He’d always been fiercely private before he went away and guarded Mary and Lucy possessively. Of course, she knew that he had good cause to be as he was, but what harm could it do, making a friend in Dotty? Anyway, it was too late to do anything about it now so she decided she might as well make the most of it. It would certainly be nice to have someone to talk to.

‘You’ll like Mrs P,’ she said conversationally. ‘She’s got a heart of pure gold, and between you and me I think she’s quite enjoying caring for Mary. Her oldest son has been called up and her two younger ones have both been evacuated to the country. I know she misses them terribly. In fact, she keeps saying that she’s going to fetch them home because nothing’s happened as yet, but I don’t think that would be such a good idea.’

‘How sad.’ Dotty thought how difficult it must be for a mother to be parted from her children, although her own mother had obviously found it easy to abandon her. Lately, the fantasies she had woven about her true parentage had faded somewhat and she had started to feel some bitterness towards the woman who had left her at such a tender age at the orphanage. Not that the people there hadn’t been kind to her, but it wasn’t the same as having your very own family.

The bus had arrived at their stop, and soon they were hurrying along the row of terraced houses on the street where Lucy lived. Dotty wondered how she could know which house was hers, since they all looked the same. They stood in two straight regimental lines like soldiers standing to attention, and as all the doors opened directly onto the pavement and all the windows were covered in blackout curtains, it was hard to distinguish one from another. However, Lucy obviously knew exactly where she was going, and soon she turned into an entry that was so dark they had to feel their way along the whitewashed walls to the gate. The entry was acting like a wind tunnel, and by the time Lucy tapped on Mrs P’s back door, the girls’ teeth were chattering with cold.

‘Come on in, luvvie,’ Mrs P invited, then her smile widened as she saw that Lucy had someone with her.

‘This is Dotty, my friend from work, Mrs P,’ Lucy introduced her. ‘She’s come to meet Mary – and you, of course,’ she added hastily.

‘Well, ’ow nice is that?’ Mrs P beamed at Dotty, putting the girl at ease. She’d never heard Lucy mention a friend before and was delighted that the girl had someone her own age to talk to. She’d often worried about her being all on her own with a little girl to care for and thought it was healthy that she was now mixing with other young women. This Dotty might even persuade her to have a night out and a bit of fun if she played her cards right – not that Dotty looked the fun type, if she were honest. She was a mousy little thing, but then anyone was better than no one at the end of the day.

‘Come on, sit yourselves down and have a warm while I get you both a cuppa,’ she urged them.

Dotty quickly did as she was told while Lucy unwrapped the scarf from about her neck and bent to tickle Mary’s chin. The child stared up at her, her mouth hanging slackly open as she continued to pile the colourful wooden bricks one on top of the other until they toppled over. Then the whole process began again and Dotty’s heart twisted in her chest for the poor little mite. Lucy had warned her that Mary was ‘special’ and now she could see exactly what she meant. It was a shame because the child was quite beautiful, with soft curly auburn hair, much the same colour as Lucy’s, and strikingly green eyes. But those eyes, when she looked up at Lucy, were vacant. It almost broke Dotty’s tender heart just to see her. There had been a little boy in the orphanage who had been much the same, and she wondered what would have happened to him now. He had been a great favourite amongst the staff, and the other children were always very protective towards him, but now Dotty was forced to ask herself what would become of him when he was too old to stay in the safe confines of the orphanage? It didn’t bear thinking about because, just like Mary, he would never be able to look after himself. Perhaps he would end up in a mental institution somewhere?

These gloomy thoughts were interrupted when Mrs P pushed a mug across the table to her and pointed to the milk and sugar. ‘Help yourself, luvvie,’ she said pleasantly.

During the next ten minutes, as the girls drank their tea, Mrs P kept up a running commentary about Mary. ‘Little angel this one is, just like her big sister,’ she told Dotty, making Lucy blush. ‘She’s so good you don’t know you’ve got ’er. But now tell me what you two ’ave been up to today.’

The girls willingly told her about the departments they’d both been working in and Mrs P listened attentively until the front door opened and Fred walked in.

‘Got company then, ’ave we?’ he asked good-naturedly as he threw his snap tin onto the table and shrugged his long arms out of his coat.

‘This ’ere is Dotty, young Lucy’s friend.’

‘Pleased to meet yer, Dotty.’ The huge man shook Dotty’s hand until she was sure it would fall off as Lucy began to collect Mary’s things together.

‘Yer could always leave her here fer the night if you two fancied goin’ out,’ Mrs P offered hopefully. She had never known Lucy go out without Mary before, apart from a couple of hours each Sunday afternoon, that was, when she willingly looked after Mary for her. She still didn’t know where the girl disappeared off to, but felt that it would do her the power of good to have a proper night out.

However Lucy shook her head. ‘Thanks for the offer, but we’re just goin’ to have a cosy night in,’ she told the kindly woman.

Minutes later, after Mrs P had closed the door behind them, she dished up Fred’s dinner while he hastily washed at the deep stone sink.

‘It would have been nice fer young Lucy to have a night out,’ she remarked. ‘’T’ain’t natural fer a young ’un like her to have so much responsibility on her shoulders.’

‘Well, it don’t seem to bother her none, Glad,’ Fred pointed out as he took a seat at the table and lifted his knife and fork.

The woman sniffed. She knew how much Lucy was worrying about Mary, and she was dreading her going away herself; the little scrap had kept her sane since her own children had been evacuated. But the child would be five years old in the New Year and then Lucy would have no choice but to have her evacuated too – if the war wasn’t over, that was, but there didn’t seem much chance of that any day soon. But then, at least Lucy would have more time to herself afterwards and perhaps she would start to have some sort of a social life?

‘’Ow do yer think young Lucy will cope when little Mary gets sent away?’ she asked her husband now and he swallowed a mouthful of boiled spud before answering. His Gladys had a heart as big as a bucket, and if she wasn’t fretting over their own children she always seemed to be fretting about someone else’s.

‘Thing is, she ain’t like other kids her age, is she?’ she went on.

‘Kids are a lot more adaptable than folks give ’em credit for,’ Fred replied, pushing a piece of bread around his plate to mop up the gravy. ‘Mary won’t really understand what’s goin’ on an’ that won’t be a bad thing.’

‘I suppose yer right,’ Mrs P conceded, knowing he wanted to put her mind at ease, then she bustled away to get him his pudding. She’d done him his favourite tonight – jam roly-poly steamed in a basin – and custard so thick it clung to the spoon. If that didn’t put a smile on her Fred’s face, nothin’ would!

Next door, Dotty was looking around admiringly at Lucy’s little home. The back door opened directly into a small scullery, and they passed through that into another room that served as a kitchen-cum-sitting room. Lucy was relieved when she saw that Mrs P had popped round to light the fire for her again and had drawn the blackout curtains across the window. She motioned for Dotty to take her coat off while she settled Mary in a chair by the fire. Mrs P had already got her into her pyjamas and the little girl was yawning now.

‘Make yourself comfortable while I get Mary some warm milk, then when I’ve tucked her into bed I’ll make us both something to eat.’

‘Oh, don’t get worrying about me,’ Dotty said hastily. ‘I don’t want to put you out of your routine.’

Ten minutes later, Lucy set off upstairs with Mary in her arms and while she was gone, Dotty took the story she was currently writing out of her bag and began to work on it. She was so engrossed that she didn’t see Lucy appear from the stairs door that led up from the room and she started when the other girl asked, ‘So what are you doing then? Writing a letter to someone?’

‘Oh no.’ Dotty squirmed uncomfortably. ‘It’s just another story I’m writing. It helps to pass the time when you live alone.’

Lucy went to fill the kettle at the sink and set it on the stove to boil. ‘I’m absolutely useless at that sort of thing,’ she admitted. ‘Although I think I told you, I do love to read when I can find the time. To be honest, since my older brother Joel went away, the most I’ve managed are bedtime stories to Mary, and I don’t even know if she understands them really. I think it just soothes her to hear my voice. May I have a look at it?’

‘Oh no!’ Dotty rammed the sheets of paper haphazardly back into her bag. ‘They’re really not that good.’

‘How do you know, if you’ve never let anyone see them?’

Dotty shook her head adamantly, then hoping to change the subject, she asked, ‘So how long have you lived here?’

Now it was Lucy’s turn to become flustered. ‘Oh, since shortly after Mary was born.’

‘Is that when you lost your parents?’

Lucy gulped deep in her throat. This was exactly the reason why Joel had always insisted that they keep themselves to themselves. Thankfully the kettle began to boil just then and she was saved from having to answer, although Dotty was eyeing her curiously. The girl was wondering how Lucy’s parents had died. Lucy obviously didn’t want to talk about it, but then it was probably too painful. She promised herself that she would never ask again. Hopefully, if they did become good friends, Lucy would tell her in her own time one day – and if she didn’t? Well, at the end of the day it was really none of her business.

On a cold blustery morning before she left for work one day, Annabelle said her goodbyes to her father. Richard Smythe had packed a small case, telling his wife that this was all he would need to take as he would be supplied with a uniform as soon as he arrived at his destination. He had passed his medical with no problem, as Miranda had anticipated, and during the days leading up to his departure she had maintained a cheery attitude. However, this morning, she could not stop the tears from falling as Annabelle looked on, at a loss as to what to say. Personally she couldn’t understand why her mother was so worried. The British Isles remained untouched and as yet there had been no sign of an air invasion, although Australian and Canadian troops had been arriving in droves to help the mother country. It was rumoured that Adolf Hitler was waiting for the better weather before he began his attacks, but Annabelle was certain that the war would be over by then and her father would be home safe and sound. Was it really necessary for her mother to get herself into such a state? The girl was also acutely aware that if she didn’t get her skates on, she would be late for work so now she pecked her father on the cheek, telling him, ‘Good luck, Daddy. Write to us, won’t you? And take good care of yourself.’

He nodded as he hugged her and then she was swinging off down the drive leaving her parents to say their goodbyes in private. She supposed that she should be feeling more upset than she was, but then she was going to the cinema that evening with Jessica to watch Joan Crawford in
The Ice Follies,
and she was already wondering what she should wear.

Before the girls knew it, Christmas was racing towards them and Owen Owen was packed with shoppers each day from early morning when the doors opened to when they closed each evening. The store took on a festive atmosphere and small Christmas trees popped up in each department as if by magic. The staff were allowed to bring in colourful paper chains, which they festooned around the fronts of the counters, and with which they decorated the staff dining room.