Only a Mother Knows (23 page)

Dulcie was still singing, thrilled to be whisked away to the Dorchester for her wedding night with her wonderful new husband. And, tucked up in his arms in the back of his Bentley, she radiated blissful happiness.

Olive lay awake in her huge double bed and smiled remembering the girls, all four of them, singing together at the end of the afternoon’s joyful celebrations. She had seen a different Dulcie today, the real Dulcie, perhaps.

However, she wasn’t so sure she was happy about her daughter, Tilly, who, in a very merry state, had insisted on dragging a reluctant Sally to a local dance. Agnes, possibly secretly relieved, had received a telegram summoning her to report to Chancery Lane underground. Olive knew her daughter’s new-found independence did not go unnoticed by the other girls either; Sally had remarked on Tilly’s new, outgoing personality and Olive had to agree that it wouldn’t do to be a wilting wallflower in the army. Although Olive was glad Tilly was seeing a different way of life and becoming more assertive, she was still her mother who worried and nothing would change that.

However, Olive thought as the full moon, a bomber’s moon they called it, shone its silvery beam through her window, she was glad the day went well and she hoped that Dulcie would be as happy with David as she had been with her husband all those years ago.

Olive realised that the dry sherries she had quaffed earlier had given her courage to lie with the blackout curtains wide open so she could enjoy the silent silver sky. She wondered what Archie was doing now, knowing he was on duty, and fervently prayed that there would be no air raid tonight. Her mind wandered over the day and it lingered on the memory of Archie’s kiss on her hand, suspecting it had been a moment of madness that had made him do it in front of a room full of people but she was ever so glad of it, knowing Nancy could not make a big hoo-ha over it and invent all kinds of snide possibilities.

Then, inexplicably, her mind went to Agnes, who had come for a quiet heart-to-heart chat before the girls went out. Her fiancé, Ted, couldn’t make the wedding; he’d had to work his evening shift as a train driver on the underground. But Olive couldn’t see why he couldn’t have come for a few hours to the daytime reception like Archie did.

She worried about Agnes a little more than about the others, except Tilly of course, as Agnes seemed such a fragile little thing, never disagreeing with anybody and keeping herself to herself unless she and Olive were alone, then she would open up and tell her that all she wanted was a family to call her own. After the little nip of sherry that had been thrust upon her, she’d confided in Olive that she didn’t think Ted’s mother liked her very much.

‘Well, she doesn’t recognise a good girl when she sees one then,’ Olive had told her. ‘She doesn’t deserve a lovely future daughter-in-law like you, Agnes.’ This maternal outburst had caused Agnes’s cheeks to colour bright pink as she quickly refuted the heartfelt compliment.

‘Ted wouldn’t approve of me going dancing without him anyway,’ Agnes said, causing a little grimace of agony to blight her pretty eyes as she read the telegram.

‘Well, maybe he should take you, instead of pandering to that ungrateful mother of his.’ Olive had stopped suddenly, realising she had said too much, and blamed it on the sherry. Then, she’d added more contritely, ‘I won’t tell him if you don’t, let it be our secret.’ This made Agnes smile, and Olive could see the girl didn’t have much choice about going to work whilst the others put on a coat of lipstick, and went dancing. But it was the other thing that Agnes said that bothered Olive more. The girl said she thought somebody was following her when she had to come home on her own.

A rare fuddle of alcohol was causing Olive to drift into a lovely sleep when she suddenly heard it. The noise was low at first, barely audible … then, growing louder by the second, the banshee wail of the air-raid warning began in earnest.

‘Oh please, Lord, let my girls come home safely,’ was her last thought before sleep finally claimed her.

Only a Mother Knows

David, with the help of his driver waiting with his wheelchair, was first out of the car when they pulled up outside the Dorchester, the luxurious Mayfair hotel renowned for the politicians, foreign journalists and even Royalty who frequented it, as he wanted to see the look of surprise on the beautiful face of his new wife.

‘But, David, I thought …’ What Dulcie thought was left unsaid as he held out his hand and she took it, easing her way out of the car with grace, the way she had seen Queen Elizabeth do it on the Pathé newsreels at the pictures. Looking up at the elegant façade, which thanks to its reinforced concrete structure was said to be the safest in London, Dulcie could not stop the sharp intake of breath or the jaw-dropping look of surprise when she realised that this was where she would have dinner on her wedding night.

‘Are we having dinner here?’ she asked as little darts of excitement ricocheted inside her.

‘No, darling, we are staying here until we leave for our honeymoon tomorrow.’ David’s face was a mixture of pride and adoration. ‘Nothing is too good for my wife.’ He gave a gentle laugh as Dulcie, forgetting her inflated air of sophistication, gave a little dance and squealed her delight.

‘The Dorchester,’ she breathed after raining kisses on David’s cheeks and lips. ‘If my mother could see me now,’ she said in a low voice, ‘this would knock Edith into a cocked hat!’ Then, a sharp zing of panic overwhelmed her momentarily when she realised that she hadn’t a thing to wear for dinner at the Dorchester and she had been in the same clothes all day.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ David said after signing ‘Group-Captain and Mrs James-Thompson’ with a flourish in the hotel register, which gave Dulcie an added thrill, as they were escorted to one of the opulent lifts to be taken to their room. ‘I have taken the liberty of having something brought over for you to change into for dinner.’ His eyes twinkled and Dulcie wondered how he had managed to get her best imitation-silk dress out of her wardrobe without her noticing; she was sure it was there this morning.

But the sight that met her when they were escorted into the luxurious accommodation almost took her breath away. It wasn’t a room, it was a whole suite of them! And there draped over the lavish double bed was a vision in pewter silk, a dress the likes of which she had only seen on movie stars at the pictures or read about in Vogue that she had so avidly digested before … She stopped herself from thinking any further back. That was then, this is now, Dulcie thought.

‘Oh, David, pinch me!’ she squealed again as she hurried over to the bed whilst David was tipping the bell boy. ‘How did you know my size? How did you know this is my all time favourite colour?’

‘I’m so glad you like it, darling,’ David smiled. ‘I took the liberty of asking Olive to covertly pump you for information and to find out your size – I couldn’t very well go into Harrods and say “my wife is about this size and this tall”, now could I?’

‘Harrods?’ Dulcie could hardly believe her ears as she slipped the expensive dress from the bed and held it up against her in one smooth, effortless sweep before standing in front of the full-length mirror, and tilting her head to one side she said almost shyly, ‘But won’t it show my …?’

‘No, darling, the lady who sold it to me assured me the cut of the dress would show your figure off to its full advantage and,’ he gave her a wicked smile, ‘if anybody should suspect that Mrs James-Thompson is expecting a happy event, who am I to disillusion them?’

‘Oh, David, you are so good to me.’ Dulcie felt the happy sting of tears, and as he held out his hand once more for her to come and sit beside him on the opulent sofa she could think of no other person in the whole world who was as good to her.

‘Shall we have a pre-dinner champagne celebration all of our own?’ His eyes were dancing with delight, she could see.

‘Oh, David, do you think we should?’ Dulcie asked, feeling elated.

‘Well, I hardly think we shouldn’t,’ David laughed, pulling her towards him.

‘I do love you; you know that, don’t you, David, and not just because … because …’ he had saved her from the shame of carrying an illegitimate child; she would never put that into words though because she did love David, she always had. And she was going to make him the best wife she possibly could.

‘I am the luckiest man in the world,’ David said.

‘Oh, David, I feel exactly the same,’ Dulcie said as her new husband took her in his arms and kissed her cares away. Then they heard the first whining keen of the air-raid siren.

‘We made it to the shelter just in time,’ Tilly told Olive a short while later after the ‘all clear’ had sounded. Olive had spent the time waiting for their return in the Morrison shelter erected in the front room that served as an occasional table with a tablecloth thrown over it when it wasn’t otherwise in use.

‘It was a quick one tonight,’ Sally said as Olive poured cocoa into four cups, ‘but if you don’t mind, girls, I’ll take my drink to bed with me, I’m so tired I don’t think I’ll see the bottom of the cup.’ The murmurs of ‘goodnight, sleep tight’ followed Sally to the staircase and, reaching her bedroom door, she closed it quietly behind her knowing that despite what she had just said, she would barely get a wink of sleep tonight.

She hadn’t been getting as many letters from George as she had hoped and yet ironically she had been getting letters from Callum almost every day, so much so that she began to feel quite embarrassed at the amount of wonderful compliments he was paying her.

Sally, for some strange reason that she couldn’t fathom, hadn’t thought to mention that she and George were courting; well, she hadn’t seen the need at first, reasoning that it had nothing to do with Callum. However, he seemed to have got it into his head that she wanted to be more than just a friend. But that would be impossible; she had her George to think about now. Tomorrow she would have to write to tell Callum what the situation was.

‘Oh, why did you do this to me, George?’ she cried.

If he truly loved her as George said he did, Sally reasoned as salty tears rolled down her cheeks and wet her pillow, he wouldn’t have put her through this pain knowing he could easily have avoided joining the Royal Navy. He should have stayed home to care for the wounded that were already here.

It seemed, she thought as the agonising feeling of loss was already ripping her apart, that she was destined to lose everybody she ever loved. What chance did her baby sister, Alice, have if Sally couldn’t hold on to the people she loved? Sobbing quietly now, Sally knew how Tilly felt when Drew went back to America. However, she didn’t have a clue how she was going to tell Callum that she was not available for courtship no matter how much he hinted that it would be wonderful if they could get together again.

‘David, that man keeps staring at me,’ Dulcie said after their main course of roast beef and all the trimmings was brought to their table, looking delicious and more than Dulcie had seen for the past three years. Olive was an excellent manager, the best, but even she couldn’t produce a spread like this. And she was determined to enjoy it all the more after the delay when the air-raid siren had sounded.

‘He has taste, my darling,’ David replied, taking her hand and gently kissing it. ‘He is probably wondering why a battered old airman like me is dining with such an exquisite woman.’

‘I’ll give you “battered old airman”,’ Dulcie said in mock horror. ‘I don’t have anything to do with battered, or old, and I am proud to tell anybody that you are my husband.’

‘Oh, Dulcie, I’m glad you’re on my side because you would make a formidable enemy,’ David laughed in a carefree manner that belied the surreptitious glance at the man Dulcie had pointed out.

‘I know him … well, I know of him,’ David said in low tones. ‘He was at one of mother’s little soirees before the war. He’s in the newspaper business – American – knows a lot of people.’

‘Isn’t that …?’ Dulcie’s attention had already wandered as she gazed, wide-eyed, at a couple of faces she had only ever seen in films and David smiled; he was going to enjoy married life with Dulcie, she was such a tonic.

‘Dulcie, darling, put your beautiful lips together, you will catch a fly,’ David grinned, his eyes full of amusement as her throaty laugh echoed around the opulent restaurant.

‘I don’t know that a common fly could afford the Dorchester, David,’ she remarked.

‘Oh, Dulcie, I do love you,’ David said. ‘I am going to make you the happiest woman in the whole world.’

‘You already have, my darling,’ Dulcie said, admiring the glint of her new wedding ring as it glimmered in the light from the sparkling chandeliers.

David was in the middle of explaining the history of the Dorchester as they finished their delicious meal with wonderful, mouth-watering chocolate floating islands Dulcie had never seen before.

‘Did you know,’ David said in conspiratorial tones, ‘that a lot of the aristocrats have closed up their huge houses and will now live here for the duration of the war?’ Dulcie was amazed that people could actually afford to leave their homes and live in a top-class five-star hotel, not just for one night, but for months, possibly years.

‘Most of the servants have left their posts because they can earn more money working in the munitions factories,’ he said to Dulcie, who was listening intently. ‘You cannot get a decent skivvy for love nor money, these days.’ He laughed out loud at Dulcie’s astonished expression. ‘I’m only pulling your leg,’ he continued, ‘but it is the truth, the rich and famous do actually live here.’

‘I thought I was seeing things when that actress … what’s her name?’ Dulcie lightly pinched her lower lip and her perfectly arched brows creased in concentration. ‘She was in that film … what’s it called …? The one about …’

‘It doesn’t matter, Dulcie,’ David smiled. ‘I know who you mean.’ He didn’t have a clue who she was talking about, but surmised they didn’t have time to go through the whole of the British as well as American acting nobility before she finally got the right name.

‘Do you think I will know anybody?’