Polly's War (26 page)

‘If you’d stop blaming me for everything, we might not.’

‘I don’t blame you for anything. You know I don’t.’ She took her shawl and with it began to brush the snow from his hair, which lay flat to his head, dark and wet, no longer the glowing colour it had once been. She rubbed some life back into his icy cheeks, pulled off his soaking wet coat and hung it up to drip even if there was no heat to dry it. It all came out then, all his pent-up emotion, his sense of failure and hurt pride.
 

‘I’ve spent days - weeks looking for a job, a way out of this hole, anything,’ he groaned. ‘But there isn’t one.’ Just reading the disappointment in those lovely eyes filled him with guilt, for all it might be tempered by a small nudge of resentment. She’d let him down too, this woman he’d loved so much. She hadn’t lifted him out of his world, only driven him deeper into it because of her dratted family. Not that he could say as much to her for he knew, in his heart, that nobody could tell Hubert what to do. Instead he said, ‘I didn’t ask you to take on this poky shop, did I? Look what trouble you’ve landed us in. I could’ve used my demob money for summat decent if I hadn’t been saddled with this white elephant.’

Belinda wrung out the sleeves of his coat, trying not to let the words hurt her, for she knew he didn’t truly mean them. He was just thrashing out at the injustice of life, as she was. ‘I thought it would help.’

‘Well it hasn’t, has it? There’s hundreds of soldiers, airmen and sailors all coming home from the war, all looking for work, and now this bleedin’ weather. What am I supposed to do?’ It sickened him. Six years fighting to end up on the scrap heap.

Benny flung away his chair, face tight with anger. ‘I’m going down to the pub, happen I can win a bob or two on t’dominoes. I’ll at least find a bit of peace,’ and he stormed out, slamming the door on her sad face and his own guilt.

A voice prodded at the back of his mind as he strode through the slush and ice,
If you don’t watch out you’ll lose her
.
Then where’ll you be?
He got as far as the pub door then turned on his heel and marched all the way back again, gathered Belinda in his arms and wept.

‘I’ll get work soon. I swear it.’ That night they lay with arms wrapped about each other, as happy as they’d ever been.

The next day when he’d gone out again in search of work to carry out his promise, Belinda pulled a cardboard box out from under the bed and considered its sparse contents. Clothes had never been particularly important to her. She’d never pretended to be a fashion plate. Even so, the peacock blue dress had been special. She remembered buying it in Cairo, and all the parties and dances she’d enjoyed in it, the friends she’d made. Laughter and sunshine to hold back the shadow of fear, which was always present in war. Now she wrapped the dress carefully in newspaper and pushing it under her arm, walked down the street, head held high even as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Her humiliation was complete when the pawnbroker gave her only five shillings on it, claiming he was being generous at that. She’d bought it at Harrods for thirty pounds, in the days when she’d been young and foolish and money hadn’t seemed to matter. Now she was using it to buy bread and cheese.

The invitation when it came the next day, took Belinda by surprise. Recognising her father’s handwriting on the envelope she lacked the courage to open it and propped it against the teapot. It was Benny, coming in from the bedroom where he’d been shaving from a bowl of water in front of a cracked mirror, who ripped it open.

‘Good lord, he wants us to come to tea. On Sunday.’

Belinda was so startled she was forced to sit down before her legs gave way. Perhaps it was because she was having a baby that she couldn’t seem to deal with emotional upset quite so easily these days. She told Benny that of course they wouldn’t go and an argument ensued which lasted throughout supper, though since that was only soup and bread and dripping, Belinda really didn’t have the energy to fight any more, so Benny won.

Chapter Sixteen

Belinda rather hoped the buses wouldn’t be running but when Sunday came they wrapped up well and caught one easily into the city centre, then changed to the number seventeen which took them up Park Road. There were heaps of dirty snow at either side of the road but at least the bus was able to get through. They got off at the end of Cherry Crescent and Belinda had never felt more nervous in her life.

‘This is a bad idea.’

‘They’re your parents,’ Benny insisted. ‘It could be just the break we need. It’s long past time you made it up with them.’

‘But what if my father tells me
never to darken his door again
?’ She adopted a humorously dramatic tone, although the sound came out hollow and foolish. Hubert Clarke was an easy man to argue with but a hard one to cross.

‘He sent for us,’ Benny reminded her. ‘He must have a reason. Happen he wants to forgive and forget,’ and since she couldn’t imagine this for one minute, Belinda lapsed into a brooding silence. She would be polite, calm, non-controversial, she promised herself, for he was still her father.

They stood at the familiar door with its cracked varnish and stained glass window while Benny pressed the bell. A jangling sound echoed along the hall and up the empty stairs behind it and Belinda couldn’t help remembering the day she’d arrived home, fresh and still young, brimful of confidence. Now she felt old, and beaten by life.
 

It was her mother who answered. Joanna stood and gazed upon her daughter and son-in-law as if she had never seen them in her life before, nor had the first idea what to say to them. Her eyes seemed to be riveted upon Belinda’s voluptuous figure, as if the letter she’d received giving her this glad news months ago had not registered until this moment.

‘Mother. How lovely to see you. Are you well?’

Joanna managed a half smile then stepped aside without a word, and let them precede her into the house.

The four of them sat in the chilly front parlour where they took tea, brought in on a tea trolley by Joanna as if they were strangers who had to be impressed with the best china, and the sight of a neatly folded fan of white paper in the empty fire grate. Belinda thought it typical of her father’s pettiness that he had denied them a fire for all he might blame the state of the country. It was so cold a frost rimed the inside of the windows, and she recalled with longing the warm fug of the kitchen with its huge old fashioned Aga, where apparently they were no longer welcome.

Hubert sat ramrod straight in his wing-backed chair, glowering at them as he sipped at his tea, or pinched the tips of his moustache between finger and thumb. He swallowed whole one or two of Joanna’s tiny egg sandwiches, leaving the butterfly cakes and scones untouched.
 

The silence threatened to become oppressive. Benny set down his cup and saucer with a snap, glad to be rid of the bother of trying to balance it while he ate, drew in a deep breath and beamed proudly as he indicated his wife. ‘She’s looking well, eh? Less than a month to go now.’

All eyes turned to Belinda who felt herself growing bright pink beneath the scrutiny. She hadn’t wanted this meeting, had only agreed to come because the larder remained frighteningly empty, as was her savings account. She’d also realised that Benny was determined on this family reunion and nothing would change his mind until he saw for himself what a hopeless case her parents were. ‘I’m simply going to have a baby, that’s all,’ she said. ‘A perfectly normal state of affairs.’

‘Bit of a shaker at first, mind,’ Benny said, nudging Belinda and almost upsetting her cup. ‘I was a bit stunned when I first heard. But think on it, Mr Clarke. A new offshoot to the family tree. That’s summat to be proud of, eh?’

‘I fail to see why, when it will bear your name and not mine.’

Benny looked nonplussed. This was the last reaction he’d expected. He had been absolutely certain that a man of Hubert Clarke’s stature would be secretly delighted to welcome a new grandson, that Belinda’s condition had been the reason for the offered olive branch.

Joanna saved the situation. She got up from her seat and went to her daughter, arms outstretched. ‘Well I, for one, am delighted for you darling. Having a baby is a wonderful joy. May I - may I kiss you?’ And after an initial awkwardness on Belinda’s part, mother and daughter were hugging each other, mopping up tears and both talking at the same time. After which display of affection they disappeared upstairs together, arm in arm.

Benny sank back in his chair with a sigh of relief, his grin stretching just about as wide as it could go. ‘There we are then, all breaches healed. Don’t it do your heart good to see it?’ In his experience, families might fall out but they always made up in the end. Certainly his own did. No matter what cross purposes there might be at times between himself and his mam, or even with Lucy, they all pulled together in times of trouble.
 

‘Indeed,’ Hubert agreed, his tone as cold as the ice feathering the bay windows.

‘Perhaps now,’ Benny earnestly remarked, ‘you and I should talk, man to man as it were. Get matters on a proper footing.’ He was so beset by sudden nervousness that he stuffed a whole triangle of egg sandwich into his mouth, quickly followed by a slurp of tea.

Hubert grimaced. ‘That might be productive.’

He’d been right all along. Wasn’t a father supposed to help his daughter, and offer a helping hand to a new member of the family? Everything was going to work out fine. ‘Well, you go first. Ask me anything you like, I’ve nothing to be ashamed of. Then I’ll ask you. How would that be?’

Hubert smoothed the ends of his moustache. ‘An excellent notion.’

Benny reached for another egg sandwich. They were so tiny he could eat a dozen but was managing to restrain his hunger. ‘Fire away.’

‘Where, and how, were you intending my grandson, or granddaughter, to be brought up?’ Hubert coolly enquired and taking this interest as a good sign, Benny carefully explained that although there were no jobs to be found at present because of all the returning servicemen, the bad weather and strikes and so on, he had plans. Anxious to impress he hurried on to outline them, saying how he needed only a modest amount of capital to set himself up in business.

‘Buying and selling household goods and furniture, there lies the future,’ he expounded, ‘as I’m sure you’ll agree.’

Hubert merely raised one brow, saying nothing and, beginning to relax, Benny pulled a packet of woodbine from his pocket, offered Hubert one and when he declined with a shake of the head, lit up one for himself.

‘Our biggest problem, apart from the lack of capital, as I said, is where we’re living. It’s not good enough for Belinda.’

‘I’m sure you’re right.’

Pleased he was striking the right note, Benny ploughed on. ‘It seems to me that a man of property such as yourself, wouldn’t want his grandson to be brought up in the vicinity of Pansy Street.’

‘It’s a pity you didn’t consider the matter more carefully before things reached this parlous state.’

Benny wasn’t sure what parlous meant but doubted it was complimentary. ‘There’s still time,’ he reasoned. ‘The child isn’t born yet.’ Eager to explain further about his plans he shuffled forward in his seat so he could flick the ash from his cigarette into the fire grate. He missed and hit the faded Persian rug instead. Mindful of his manners he got up and rubbed the ash in with his heel and swiftly apologised.

Manfully swallowing the choking sensation that was tightening his chest, Hubert asked, ‘and how much - capital - did you have in mind?

Benny leaned back in his seat, feeling increasingly comfortable that Hubert was genuine in wanting to help. He mentioned a sum and seeing his expression of disbelief, hastened to adjust it. ‘I reckon I could manage with less if you’d agree to us moving in here. Just till we get going like and can afford a place of us own. I mean, you’re not short of space, are you? More bedrooms than you know what to do with, eh?’ He was babbling now and Benny knew it but somehow felt himself too far down the road he’d chosen to back out of it. All he could do was hope for a good reception to his ideas, for Belinda’s sake. ‘We only need one, for us and the baby. Belinda’s mam could help look after it. She’d enjoy that I’m sure, which would mean Belinda could get a bit of a job if she wanted one. I’m not a stuffy, old fashioned husband, like some. Belinda’s a smart lass with a brain in her head. I’ve no objection to my wife working.’

‘I’m sure you haven’t. Your plans seem - substantial. You think big, I can tell.’

Benny swelled out his chest with pride. ‘Oh , I’m a born enter - entpren...’

‘Entrepreneur?’ offered Hubert drily.

‘Aye, that’s it.
 
Never short of ideas isn’t Benny Pride. It runs in the family don’t you know. It’d all be above board of course. A proper loan. Only if I borrow from you instead of a bank manager, you wouldn’t be likely to charge nearly so much in the way of interest, now would you? It being all in the family as it were.’

Hubert leaned forward in his chair, hands lightly clasped, elbows resting on his knees. His tone was mild, ponderous. ‘Let me see if I’ve got this right. You wish to live in
my
house, have
my
wife help look after your infant while borrowing money from
me
on a low rate of interest, so you can set up this business plan to be a - an entrepreneur. Is that about the size of it?’

‘Got it in one.’