Moonlight and Ashes (13 page)

‘Shall we sit down and have it while it’s hot then?’ she suggested brightly. ‘And there’s a big apple pie and custard for after, for those that have room for any.’

‘We will,’ the twins chorused, and they fell on the meal as if they hadn’t eaten for a month.

Once Maggie had strapped Lucy into her wooden highchair and pulled her up to the table, she smiled at Sam. ‘Come on, love. Tuck in.’

He stopped pacing up and down the room to glance at her distractedly. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said come and get your dinner before it goes cold. I’ve been standing over a hot stove all day and it would be a shame to see it go to waste.’ She kept her smile fixed firmly in place, determined that the memories he had of his last day at home should be happy ones.

Reluctantly he pulled his chair up, but all he could do was push the food around the plate. ‘I ain’t very hungry,’ he told her after a while.

‘Never mind. Perhaps you’ll find room for some pudding. I invited Mam to join us but she preferred to stay at home again.’

Danny paused from shovelling food into his mouth. ‘Gran misses Grandad, don’t she?’ he asked sadly.

‘Yes, she does, sweetheart. We all do, but let’s not think of that today. I want this to be a happy day.’

‘Huh! There’s fat chance o’ that, knowin’ where I’m off to tomorrow.’ Sam scraped his chair back from the table and stormed towards the door. ‘I’m goin’ out fer a bit o’ fresh air. Expect me when yer see me.’

Maggie’s shoulders sagged. It seemed that all her efforts had been in vain, but she didn’t want to upset the children, so she said briskly: ‘Right then. Who’s for apple pie?’

Three little hands shot up into the air and wearily she turned away to the oven.

That evening, as darkness painted the sky above the city, a feeling of dread settled around Maggie’s heart. She had wanted Sam to spend his last night at home with the children, but they had long since been tucked into bed and were all snoring softly. She paced up and down the kitchen, looking at the tin clock that stood on the mantelshelf every few minutes. Where could he be? She knew he had no money to go the pub, and as he had no other interests, she was deeply concerned. Eventually she twitched the blackout curtains tightly together and curled into a ball on the settee. Her eyes fell on the case packed ready for him at the side of the door. It was a very small case, for as the recruiting officer had told him, once he was issued with his uniform he would need very little else from home. Maggie had packed just one change of clothes and underwear, and had also slipped in a picture of the children, all happy and smiling, that she had had taken especially. She was determined to stay awake until he showed his face, but it had been a long day, and as the hand on the tin clock crept up to midnight she fell fast asleep.

In the early hours of the morning she started awake. For a moment she was disorientated, but then, as she remembered why she was there, her face creased into a frown. Sitting up slowly, she stretched her stiff arms above her head. It was then that she saw the shadow creeping across the room and her heart skipped a beat. Lunging for the light switch, she clicked it on and gasped when she saw Sam, suitcase in hand, creeping towards the back door like a thief in the night.

‘Sam, where have you been? I’ve been so worried. And what have you got your case for? You don’t have to leave until the morning.’

Unable to meet her questioning eyes, he hung his head. ‘I err . . . I thought I’d head off now.’

Maggie stared at him. ‘But what about saying goodbye to the children? And to me? Anyway, there are no buses or trams running at this time. Just what are you playing at?’

Hearing the suspicion in her voice, he shrugged. ‘Yer might as well know now as later.’

‘Know what?’

‘I ain’t goin’.’

‘But you’ve
got
to go now.’ Maggie could hardly believe what she was hearing. If Sam didn’t turn up, he would be classed as a coward and a deserter, and would never be able to hold his head high again.

He shook his head. ‘All very easy fer you to say, but I don’t fancy getting me head blown off. So I’ve decided I ain’t goin’ - it’s as simple as that.’

‘But what will you do? They’ll look for you. You won’t be able to stay round here.’

‘I know that.’ He had the grace to look uncomfortable as he again made towards the door. Once there, he turned to look back at her. ‘I’m sorry, Maggie. I know I ain’t been the best husband in the world. You an’ the kids will be better off wi’out me.’

‘But where will you go?’ she repeated.

‘Better you don’t know, then yer won’t have to lie, will yer?’

Maggie felt as if she was caught in the grip of a terrible nightmare. ‘Will we ever see you again?’

He shrugged. ‘Perhaps one day, when this bloody war is all over.’ Without so much as another word he silently slipped away into the night as Maggie stood there reeling from the shock.

Pulling her coat about her, Maggie shuffled through the leaves that were whipping across the pavement beneath her feet. It was early September and there was a distinct nip in the air, which was hard to adjust to after the blazing heat of the summer.

She had been back in the factory for some weeks now. Of Sam there was no sign, and now the children had stopped asking for him, almost as if he’d never existed. Her mother was still giving her cause for concern. Ellen seemed to be slipping into a strange melancholy where no one could reach her, although she was still managing to care for the children while Maggie was at work.

Maggie was completely worn out. Gone were the days when she would go home to a house of laughter with a meal waiting for her on the table. Instead, she usually arrived home to find her mother slouched in the fireside chair, the pots piled high in the sink and the children running riot.

Today, Danny and Lizzie met her at the door, flinging themselves into her arms as if they hadn’t seen her for a month. She laughed and kissed the tops of their heads as they both rushed to tell her all about their day.

‘One at a time,’ she smiled as she took off her coat. Her mother was in her usual position in the fireside chair. As soon as she heard Maggie, she rose and began to shuffle towards the door.

‘Won’t you stay for tea, Mam?’ Maggie knew what the answer would be before the question had left her lips, so her mother’s reply didn’t surprise her.

‘No thanks, love. I’ll get back off over home if you don’t mind. I’ve peeled a few potatoes and onions for yer an’ I got yer some ox liver from the butchers.’

‘Thanks, Mam. I’ll drop Lucy off in the morning then as usual.’

Ellen nodded and slowly left the house.

The next couple of hours passed in a blur as Maggie cooked the children a meal then prepared them for bed. When at last they were all tucked in, she began to tackle the housework. Glancing at the clock, she was shocked to see that it was almost 8 p.m. She wondered where the time had gone. Jo was calling round tonight and the house was scarcely fit to be seen. Still, she comforted herself, she’s coming to see me, not the house, so she’ll have to take me as she finds me. She could hear the rain that had begun to fall, lashing against the window, and briefly wondered if Jo might decide against coming out in it, but spot on eight o’clock there was a tap on the front door.

When Maggie hurried through the front room to answer it and saw Jo standing there, it was all she could do not to laugh out loud. The girl looked like a drowned rat.

‘Come on in quickly. You’ll catch your death standing there,’ she urged.

Jo stepped inside, and as her eyes swept approvingly round the tidy room, the water began to puddle on the lino at her feet.

‘Sorry. Perhaps I should have put it off till another night,’ she said. ‘But it weren’t rainin’ when I set off.’

‘Stop worryin’ an’ don’t be silly. It’s only a bit of water. Now come into the kitchen by the fire and get dried off.’ Maggie led the way, and once in the warmth of the little back room, she passed her a towel. ‘Here, give your hair a good rub with that an’ give me your coat. I’ll hang it up to dry an’ then I’ll make yer a nice hot drink.’

Jo took the towel gratefully as Maggie filled the kettle.

‘Sorry the place is in a bit of a state,’ she told Jo over her shoulder. ‘I only manage to keep on top through the week while I’m working, then come the weekend I give everywhere a thorough goin’-over.’

Jo could have told her that compared to the home she lived in, this was like a little palace but she remained tight-lipped until Maggie had carried two steaming mugs to the table.

‘I’m afraid we’re out of sugar. Our Danny used the last of it on his porridge this morning.’

‘You’ve got this place really comfortable,’ Jo told Maggie.

‘I dare say it’s not too bad, though it could be better if I didn’t have three kids rampagin’ round it. Still, I shouldn’t grumble, I suppose.’

They both sipped at their drinks until Jo asked, ‘Have yer heard anythin’ from Sam?’

Maggie shook her head. Apart from her mother and Sam’s mother, Jo was the only person she had told, about him being missing. If the neighbours had noticed that Army officials had been round to see her, they tactfully hadn’t questioned her and she hadn’t enlightened them as to why they had come. Their visit had turned into an ordeal, and by the time they had finished grilling her, she had been shaking like a leaf. They had even searched the house, as if they thought she might be hiding him! Finally she had been ordered to fill in endless forms, and then they had left, telling her in no uncertain terms that should she discover where he was and not tell them, then she would be considered as guilty as he was.

‘Not so much as a dickie-bird,’ she sighed, suppressing a shudder as she thought back to the visit. ‘It’s almost as if he’s disappeared off the face of the earth.’

‘Don’t the children find it strange that he didn’t say goodbye to them?’

‘I think they might have for a start but they hardly mention him now.’ Maggie’s voice was sad. ‘If I am honest, they’re happier without him. He never had a lot of time for them when he was here. When he did speak to them it was usually to tell them off or to order them to be quiet.’

‘Well, at least he weren’t knockin’ seven bells out of’em half the time. That’s where I get most of my bruises from - when I step in between my dad an’ one o’ the little ’uns.’

Maggie stared at her soberly. Jo was alarmingly thin, but she was wearing a very smart blue costume and had obviously made a great effort to look nice for her visit. Maggie was touched. ‘That’s a lovely outfit you’re wearing, Jo.’

Her visitor flushed with pleasure at the compliment. ‘I got it in a jumble sale over at some posh church hall in Earlsdon,’ she giggled. ‘I got loads o’ stuff fer the little’uns an’ all, an’ a nice nightie fer me mam. She were tickled pink with it when I got it home.’

‘Ah, now that reminds me.’ Crossing to a pile of clothes that were neatly folded over the back of a chair, Maggie carried them to the table. ‘I sorted those things that Lizzie has grown out of for you. Do you think any of them might fit one of your sisters?’

As she began to hold the articles up one at a time for inspection, Jo said, ‘Cor, they’re lovely, an’ they’ll slot on our Katie a treat. I’m goin’ to pay yer fer ’em though.’

Maggie glanced at the proud jut of the girl’s chin and was impressed. Jo might not have a lot but she certainly had her pride. ‘I’ll tell you what, let’s just say you owe me a favour if ever I should need one,’ she compromised.

Jo thought about it for a second and frowned. ‘What sort of favour could I ever do you?’

‘Well, perhaps you could babysit for me if ever I needed you?’

‘What? You’d trust me to babysit fer your kids knowin’ what I am?’ Jo’s eyes were incredulous.

‘What you are is a very nice person,’ Maggie replied kindly. ‘And yes, of course I’d trust you with them.’ She thought she saw the glimmer of tears in Jo’s eyes before she hastily looked away, but then the moment was gone and their talk turned to more serious matters.

‘Things are lookin’ bad in London,’ Jo remarked gloomily. ‘The poor buggers there have copped it big time this week, accordin’ to the news. They reckon the bombin’ went on from early evenin’, all through the night an’ on into the next mornin’. They got the docks, the gas station, an’ loads more places. God knows how many poor souls were left dead. Churchill ordered an attack on Berlin to retaliate, an’ that got Hitler all riled up. Gawd, Maggie, he reckons he’s goin’ to reduce the whole of London to rubble now. It’s frightenin’, ain’t it?’ She shivered. ‘I wonder how long it will be before they target Coventry again?’

Maggie trembled involuntarily at the thought. ‘I don’t know, but I’ve got the shelter all set up just in case. The last time we were bombed I went completely to pieces an’ me mam had to take control of everything. This time I know it will be down to me. Since we lost my dad, me mam barely knows what time it is. Eileen wrote to me last week. She’s selling her house and told me to go round and help myself to anything that I might find useful, so I took a load of blankets and sheets. At least now if we have a raid I won’t have to worry about dragging bedding across to the shelter as well as the children. I’ve even put a torch and some tinned food in so we should be all right.’

‘You’re lucky you’ve
got
somewhere to shelter,’ Jo told her ruefully. ‘If there’s a raid we just have to sit it out. There ain’t room in our yard fer one, an’ even if there were, me mam ain’t fit enough to get to it. Last time, I put the kids under the stairs an’ I sat on the bed an’ held me mam’s hand.’

Maggie realised that Jo must love her mother very much indeed and was about to say so when Jo went on, ‘How are yer managing on yer own anyway?’

Maggie shrugged. ‘Not too bad, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep up going to work in the factory. My mam isn’t coping with things all that well since we lost Dad and I feel guilty leaving the children with her every day. Trouble is, I need the money and I can’t think of a job that I could do from home.’