Home Sweet Home (37 page)

Her red lips broke into a smile as she laid her nicotine-stained fingers over her daughter's hand. Her mother's touch ignited an electric shock that ran all the way up Frances's arm. It was accompanied by a great surge of emotion welling up inside her. Her mother really did want her with her. Why else would she be willing to leave her job on the buses to work in a chocolate factory with her?'

‘Tell you what,' said her mother, leaning even closer. ‘How about we go out there now and take a look? Out to Somerdale. It's at a place called Keynsham and surrounded by green fields. Do you fancy that?'

Frances nodded fervently before wondering how they would get there.

‘It just so happens,' whispered her mother, ‘that I'm on the Keynsham run! No need for a ticket. You just get on board and if an inspector does get on to check the tickets, I'll tell him who you are. Anyway,' she said with an airy uplifting of her chin. ‘I know Sid Chalmers. Me and him used to be close, once upon a time.' Regret for what might have been flashed in her eyes then was gone. ‘Well? What do you reckon?'

Frances felt sick. This was not at all the woman she'd imagined her mother to be. That woman had gone away to make a fortune before claiming her. She had not expected her to be quite like this and hadn't accounted for somebody like Oswald. How could she live with a man like that?

Her thoughts were in turmoil. A chasm a mile wide existed between them. The warmth of Uncle Stan and the bakery was calling her. She had to go back. She had to put her trust in him to assist her in her hour of need, and somehow she knew he would.

Mildred Baxter, who had once been Mrs Mildred Sweet, rubbed at the bruise on her cheekbone. A dash of powder and rouge had done wonders to hide it, but the soreness prevailed. Her mouth was set in a grimace until Frances turned and waved to her. Mildred waved back, her grimace widening into a smile.

‘See you soon, love,' she called out.

The driver of the bus on which Mildred was the conductress had willingly dropped the girl off at the bus stop closest to Mrs Kepple's boarding house. He grinned at Mildred knowingly and winked. Mildred winked back, signalling that it had been a free ride that might shortly get paid in kind. Sid Chalmers, the ticket inspector, hadn't got on the bus this evening, so there'd been no need to explain to him that she had a daughter. Yet another man she'd had a physical liaison with. He had a wife. He would do what she wanted and keep his mouth shut.

Mildred was pleased with herself. She hummed a happy tune as she collected her stuff from the locker room and prepared to go home.

Home! The thought of going back to Oswald and that gloomy place in Montpelier caused the bruise beneath her eye to throb painfully.

She'd been planning to leave him for some time, but circumstances were not in her favour. Men had always been her key to changing her life. If you fluttered your eyelashes and made them feel special, they were stupid enough to do anything for you. Sid Chalmers, the ticket inspector, had seemed for a time to be just that. His wife was an invalid and he'd told Mildred he was unhappy in his marriage. When the chips were down and she'd tried to persuade him to run off with her, he'd swiftly changed his tune.

There had been other men, but her looks were fading. There were younger, more attractive women with persuasive powers every bit as good as hers.

Your day is done, she thought to herself. The trouble was that her wages as a conductress wasn't enough for rent, food and everything else. A woman didn't make as much money as a man, even in comparable jobs. The male conductors earned more than the women, even though they were all doing the same job and working the same hours. It wasn't fair, but that was the way things were.

Frances turning up had altered things. The girl was pretty and capable of earning good money.

Mildred smiled to herself. It had been so easy to persuade her daughter that she was determined to make a new start. And indeed I am, she thought as she went out of the door and across Old Market to catch the bus that would take her home. Two wages were needed to make that new start, her wage as well as the wage her daughter would bring in.

If she played her cards right, the money Frances earned would mostly go to her. Young girls were malleable and she'd seen the longing in her daughter's eyes. She wanted a mother and she would give everything to have one. Mildred would see that indeed she would give everything, and she would take it.

Leaving Oswald and setting up a new life depended on her daughter earning that extra wage.

Once she was indoors, and after checking Oswald wasn't home, she poured herself a glass of sherry and toasted her future. If she couldn't take advantage of men's desire any longer, then she would take advantage of her daughter.

Mrs Kepple was very understanding of Frances's situation and even helped her pack.

‘She wasn't quite up to the mark, was she, my pet?'

Frances shook her head. ‘I think I made a mistake.'

‘And you feel such a fool.'

‘More than that. I feel cruel. What is it they say? The other man's grass is always greener.'

‘And you don't know what you have until it's gone,' stated Mrs Kepple with a resolute jerk of her bristled chin.

Not mentioning getting married to her mother had been an easy decision to make. Neither had she mentioned her delicate condition, which she doubted her mother would welcome.

She was swift in telling Mrs Kepple that she was leaving. ‘I want to go home.'

Mrs Kepple beamed. ‘Home is where the heart is.'

Frances had to concede that she was right.

She got a lift to the tramway centre – which of course no longer catered to tramways, but the name had stuck. The lift was with Mrs Kepple's taxi driver son, who had a tin leg after coming back from the war.

The single-decker country bus only ran three days a week and then only intermittently but it was cheaper than the train. She was just in time to catch the last one home.

Mrs Kepple gave her a big hug. ‘Having met your mother and having her as a guest for a while, I'm sure you're doing the right thing, my dear.'

Frances didn't ask what her mother's shortcomings had been when she'd stayed with Mrs Kepple. She didn't need to.

She smiled. ‘I'm sure I'm doing the right thing too.'

Hi to the child of the forest. This note is short but sweet and I shouldn't be sending it at all. Everything is top secret nowadays. I'll see you when I see you. Don't lose hope. Don't lose trust. Be assured I will stand by you.

Be with you soon. Declan O'Malley

Even if he hadn't signed it, Frances would have known who it was from. Nobody wrote in the way that Declan did.

There'd been no recriminations when she'd got home. Her uncle hadn't said ‘I told you so' though his taciturn demeanour conveyed he was still not pleased about her being pregnant.

‘I'm just glad
you're
back, sweetheart,' said Stan. ‘Charlie's missed you.'

Up in their shared bedroom, Ruby helped her unpack. ‘Another baby in the house.' She sighed and shook her head. ‘The more the merrier.'

Frances took a deep breath. ‘I might not be living here when he's born.'

‘How far gone are you?'

‘It's been about two months since I last had my monthly.'

Ruby took a moment to place things in the top drawer of the chest they shared and did a quick calculation in her head. The baby would be born some time in the New Year.

‘It's Declan's, isn't it?'

Frances sat down on the bed, her head bent, her clasped hands resting on her knees. ‘I think so.'

Hearing the helplessness in her voice, Ruby sat down beside her. ‘You think it might be Ed's?'

‘It wasn't that long before. He was drunk. I was a bit tipsy too and feeling bitter about my mother and what Mrs Powell said about her. For a moment, I thought I may as well follow in her footsteps.'

‘Frances! How could you think such a thing? You're nothing like your mother. You're
you
. Frances Sweet.'

Frances kept her head down, her eyes scrutinising her clasped hands. ‘Should I tell Declan that it might be Ed's? What do you think?'

Ruby bit her lip. Frances had not been a virgin when she'd gone with Declan, but did that really matter nowadays? The fact was it might matter to him. Some men were like that. The truth was she didn't know what to say, though in all honesty she would do what women had done for generations. She'd keep mum!

‘Look. Just think about it. You'll know the right thing to do when the time comes.'

‘Do you really think so?'

Ruby looked into her cousin's upturned face. This kid needed reassurance.

‘You won't be the first one who fails to be a virgin on her wedding day.'

Frances smiled. ‘Thank you, Ruby. You've made me feel better.'

Ruby gave her a hug. ‘I'm glad you're back. I've got a lot of catching up to do with my work for the Ministry of Food. I need help and you're it.'

Frances said she would be glad to help.

The welcome home was better than Frances had expected or felt she deserved. For the first time, she felt part of this grand plan to help the nation feed itself. Ruby even persuaded Andrew to pay her on a part-time basis. No mention was made to him of Frances's condition.

Bettina Hicks helped the wounds heal with an impromptu visit and a half bottle of brandy.

‘To toast an ongoing victory through Europe,' she declared. They all raised their glasses to that.

It's said that into every life a little rain must fall. Frances was filled with happiness that her uncle was going to sign the form giving her permission to marry Declan O'Malley. She'd written to Declan and he'd suggested September.

The bombshell was brought to them by his commanding officer. The moment he walked into their living room, his cap under his arm and a grim expression on his face, they knew that something was wrong.

Stan felt his stomach churn on seeing the frightened look on Frances's face.

The officer, Colonel Marks, turned a letter over in his hand before handing it over.

‘O'Malley was picked to go on a secret mission in order to gather information prior to the invasion of Europe. The plane he was in was shot down. I can't tell you where he is, of course. All I can say is that we've lost contact with him. But he's well trained. He knows what's coming and that it's best to lie low for the time being. I'm sure you'll understand, and please, please don't give up hope.'

After he'd gone, they all fell to silence. Frances's hands were trembling. Ruby patted her on the shoulder.

‘I'm sure he'll be all right.'

Stan Sweet was oddly quiet. ‘Does Declan speak any foreign language?'

His question came right out of the blue.

Frances tried to think, but it was Ruby who answered.

‘I think he said his mother was German and he could speak the language.' She frowned, not sure what her father was thinking.

Stan Sweet looked from his daughter to his niece. ‘I think he was lying. He told you both he was military police. I think he was military intelligence.' He looked at Frances. ‘Prepare yourself for a long wait.'

May 1945: Victory in Europe

Church bells rang out the news of the German surrender, people danced in the street, and a bonfire sent sparks exploding into the sky.

‘It's over! He'll be home,' shouted Frances, her voice quaking with a mixture of laughter and relief. ‘Germany's surrendered!'

Stan declined going along to witness the village bonfire, get drunk and eat jacket potatoes pulled directly from the fire.

Instead, he went down to the graveyard that evening, keen to impart everything that had occurred in recent months to his darling departed wife.

The air was balmy and the summer bees were already buzzing in and out of the wildflowers.

His joints creaked as he knelt down beside his wife's tombstone. ‘I'm getting older, Sarah my love, but I'm still here.' He sighed as he readjusted his arm to rest more comfortably. ‘There's a lot of young men who are not.'

He bowed his head in respect to those who would never come home, including Charlie.

‘You may recall I told you some time back that Sefton's girl, Frances, now has a child of her own. Her name's Daisy. She's a bonny little thing. We're awaiting word that her father has survived and is going to do the honourable thing. He's an American officer, military intelligence and right in the thick of it, from what I can see. It's been hard for him to get away from the conflict, but we're fairly certain he's alive and he has promised Frances they'll marry the moment he can get to England. He's quite a bit older than her but she's adamant that he'll come back. I hope she's right for her sake and that of the little one. Children born out of wedlock have never had it easy. And you know what the village is like – even if they'll never say anything to my face. Anyway, the Germans have surrendered so we're hoping he'll soon be in touch. Ruby is still waiting to hear from that young man who used to drive her around. We won't know much about him until the Japanese surrender, and so far they're showing no sign of doing that. In the meantime, she's busying herself with her job and Frances is helping her. But of course that's all coming to an end. Things are less stiff and serious now, so much so that they take Charlie and Daisy with them …'

The road they needed to take was blocked with people in uniform and the ominous presence of an army vehicle marked ‘Bomb Disposal'.

‘Sorry. You can't go down 'ere, love. There's an unexploded thousand pounder down 'ere. You'll have to go up Fairfax Street and bear left from there.'

Ruby sighed resignedly and thanked the man. It wasn't his fault that the Germans had dropped a bomb that hadn't exploded, or that it hadn't been detected soon after it fell that night back in 1940 when the heart had been ripped out of the city. Not that their surroundings were much improved on the route he'd suggested.