The Girls They Left Behind (44 page)

‘So are you,’ she said, and he laughed.

‘Nobody’s ever said it to me before!’

‘No, but you know what I mean.’ She gazed at him, noting the straight brows, the golden flecks in his eyes, the firmness of his mouth. ‘When I first saw you, I thought how good looking you were. But I don’t mean that. It’s not looks, it’s something else. Something in your eyes, in the way you look.

Oh, I don’t know how to explain it but ‘

‘It’s all right. I know what you mean.’ He kissed her again.

‘And I’m glad you see what I see. It’s something between us, isn’t it? Something important.’

‘Yes.’

They stood quietly for a while, holding each other close.

Then Dennis gave a little sigh and said, ‘We’d better get on with our work, Betty. Mrs Spencer’ll have breakfast ready soon.’

‘I know.’ She remembered what she had been meaning to ask him. ‘Dennis, what are you doing at Christmas? Will you be going home?’

He grinned a little. ‘I thought I’d wait and see what you were doing.’

‘I was waiting for you!’ They both laughed, and she said seriously, ‘I suppose we’d both like to be with our own families at Christmas. But Yvonne wants to go home then too, so one of us’ll have to stay.’

‘What about Erica?’

‘She doesn’t care much. It doesn’t seem as though she’s very happy at home.’

Dennis was silent for a moment, then he said, ‘Well, suppose we both stay here at Christmas, and then Erica and Yvonne can be here at New Year. I can’t see Erica wanting to be here on her own with me. She can barely tolerate being in the same room these days.’

‘Oh, Dennis.’ Betty held him close again. ‘I can’t understand why she hates you so much. Anyone can see what sort of person you are, but she treats you like a criminal.’

‘No,’ he said, ‘like a traitor. Don’t blame her, Betty. A lot of people feel like that. And when she’s lost her own fiance …’

‘I know.’ Betty thought of the young pilots, so carefree and lighthearted, buzzing around the lanes in their little car, singing at the tops of their voices. But they hadn’t been carefree at all, had they? Every day they’d seen more of their comrades killed, shot down, burned to death, drowned. Every day they’d seen their own doom approach a little closer. It’s pretty lonely, up there in the sky. Every time they’d scrambled for their planes, they’d known this might be the last.

No, it wasn’t surprising that Erica and others like her should hate the young men who had refused to fight.

She held Dennis a little tighter. I’ll never hate them, she thought, never. And aloud, she said, ‘I love you, Dennis.’

‘I love you …’

At the beginning of Christmas week, families began to arrive home to spend Christmas together.

The Budd children had arrived on Sunday, fetched home by their father who had cycled out to Bridge End and brought them back by train. After Christmas, he would take them back and then ride his bike home again.

‘Let’s hope there isn’t a blizzard like there was last year,’ he commented, but at the moment the weather was quiet enough, though cold.

The boys came in with bright eyes and glowing cheeks. Jess had a fire burning in the grate ready for them, and some lentil soup simmering on the stove. Maureen was sitting on the floor, playing with Tim’s coloured blocks, and he immediately got down to play with her, showing her how to build a castle. Maureen watched and chuckled, hitting the edifice with her fist the moment he had completed it.

Rose went straight to her mother and buried her face against Jess’s breast. Jess held her warmly, feeling the ache in her throat. She had missed Rose’s company, for the girl was growing up as a friend as well as daughter and they’d begun to share a good many interests. She held out her hand to Keith and looked at Tim, still kneeling on the rug playing with Maureen.

‘Oh, it’s good to have you all back,’ she said shakily, and looked at Frank. ‘This is how things ought to be. The six of us, all together at home. Nothing should come between families, Frank, nothing.’

He nodded. He knew what Jess meant and he agreed with her. But even as he agreed, he saw again in his mind the vision of a head, torn from its body, resting on a pile of stained bandages and looking at him with his son’s eyes, and he knew that he would have no peace of mind until Christmas was over and he could take them back.

At Annie’s house, just up the street, the celebrations were slightly muted by Betty’s absence.

Derek was in the front room with Olive, helping to hang up paper-chains and trying to find out why one of the Christmas tree lights didn’t work. There was no tree of course, but the lights could be hung round the wall and look just as good. He traced the faulty bulb at last, then arranged them in the pattern of a tree and stood back to admire the effect.

‘That’s lovely, Derek. Really artistic’ Olive came over and gave him a kiss. ‘I like the way you’ve put those coloured balls round the lights. It makes them really glitter.’

‘Maybe I’ll set up in business when the war’s over,’ he said.

‘Your room decorated by Harker and Son.’

Olive caught her breath and they looked at each other, smiling with excitement.

‘It’s really true, isn’t it,’ she said wonderingly. ‘We’re having a baby. You and me. A baby all of our own. Oh, Derek…’

He kissed her again. ‘I can still hardly believe it. I thought when it didn’t happen in September ‘

‘Well, it didn’t have much of a chance then, did it?’ Olive remembered the day she had waved goodbye to Derek at the station, running along the platform, wondering when she would see him again. Their time together had been so brief.

And then he’d been back only a month later! The Unit had stayed in Portsmouth then and looked likely to be here for a while. The longer the better, she thought, laying her head against his chest. Long enough, she hoped, for Derek to be home when their baby was born and hold it in his arms. But perhaps the war would be over by then anyway.

‘July,’ she said. ‘It’s due on July the fifteenth. That’s St Swithin’s Day. If it rains then, it’ll rain for forty days, and if the sun shines it’s going to shine for forty days.’

‘Gosh,’ he said, ‘I hope that doesn’t apply to babies too. I don’t know that I want forty kids!’

Olive giggled. ‘Neither do I. be enough for the time being.’ She hugged him again. ‘I hope it’s a boy and looks like you.’

‘I don’t. I hope it’s a girl and looks like you.’

‘One of each, then. Only not both at once, though I wouldn’t mind twins, really. It’d be fun if they were identical and no one could tell them apart. I like seeing twins dressed the same, they’re cute.’

‘They wouldn’t be identical if they were one of each,’ he pointed out, and Olive laughed again.

‘Well, we’ll settle for one, and take whatever we get. I don’t care, so long as it’s all right. And so long as it’s not born in an air-raid shelter, like poor Kathy Simmons’.’ She shuddered.

‘That must have been awful. She had just Tommy Vickers with her, no woman at all, and those two poor little girls seeing it all.’

‘She was lucky to have Tommy.’

‘I know. She says he was marvellous. I wouldn’t want it to happen to me, all the same.’

They went back to their decorating. Derek had managed to get some holly, and they stuck it behind the mirror and pictures.

‘D’you think your mum’s got any idea?’ he asked.

‘About the baby? I don’t know, I’ve caught her looking at me a bit funny once or twice. But there’s nothing to show yet, it’s only just eight weeks, after all. The doctor said I might get some morning-sickness but I haven’t so far. I think she suspected before, I missed after you’d been here in September.

But then I came on again, so it was a false alarm.’ She sighed contentedly. ‘It isn’t this time, though. This time it’s real.’

‘But we’ll tell ‘em, won’t we? At Christmas dinner?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘We’ll tell them then.’

Christmas dinner was going to be different this year, she thought. Me and Derek married - last year, we’d only just got engaged. And our Betty away on the farm. And Alice Brunner and Joy, invited because Auntie Jess was so sorry for them.

It would be different. But for Olive it would be perfect, because Derek would be with her and because they would tell the family that their first baby was on its way.

And next Christmas will be different again, she thought.

The baby will be here - six months old. And Derek?

A shiver passed across her skin and she turned towards him and then laughed, forgetting everything as he held up a tiny sprig in his hand.

‘Mistletoe! Oh, Derek!’

The Germans had promised a truce over Christmas, although it was not official and nobody could be certain they would keep their word. On Monday, the day before Christmas Eve, everyone went about their preparations with one eye on the sky and one ear ready for the alert. It was quiet, but tense. Nobody knew if it would last.

‘If they can call a truce for Christmas, why not call it for the rest of the year? The rest of our lives?‘Jess asked, but nobody could answer her and she did not expect them to try. The war had turned into a machine that, once set in motion, could not be stopped. It must, like some terrible disease, run its course.

‘Let’s be thankful for small mercies,’ Annie advised. ‘Enjoy our Christmas, with the kids around us.’ She sighed, thinking of Betty. The first Christmas in nineteen years without her bright face at the table. But next year, if her suspicions were correct, there’d be another kiddy sitting up in a high chair and banging a spoon on the table. As Kathy Simmons had proved, life must go on.

Jess went up to September Street to do her shopping, accompanied by the whole family. She was proud of them as she watched the boys running ahead and felt Rose’s fingers on the handle of the pram. Four lovely children. Two bright, lively boys, a daughter who was all any mother could wish for, and a baby who never stopped smiling. She was spoken to half a dozen times by neighbours who wanted to look at them, to ask them about their life in the country, to talk about Christmas. And there were other mothers with their children too, boys and girls who had been out at Bridge End with Rose and Tim and Keith, and some who had been sent to the Isle of Wight or Salisbury.

‘It’s good to hear the children’s voices in the street again,’

Peggy Shaw said. ‘You forget what it’s like. I’ve only just realised how quiet it’s been all these months.’

‘It’s going to be harder than ever to let them go again,‘Jess remarked wistfully. ‘Specially as we don’t even know where the boys’ll be going. The billeting people have got to find them somewhere else.’

‘That’s a shame. They were all right where they were, weren’t they? It’s a pity to move them.’

‘So long as they don’t split them up,‘Jess said. ‘It won’t be so bad if they can be together. And near Rose.’ In fact, the boys saw very little of Rose. Edna Corner invited her to tea once a week and Mrs Greenberry had the brothers over, but apart from that they didn’t bother much. She was only their sister, after all. They could see her any time.

Rose went into the newsagent’s and Jess left the boys on the pavement with Jimmy Cross and Cyril Nash while she went into the butcher’s. Mr Hines was waiting for her, a broad smile on his face.

‘I’ve got something for you.’

‘Liver? Sausages?’ She smiled back. There wasn’t much else a butcher could have for you these days. But to her astonishment, he handed her a large, oddly-shaped brown paper parcel.

‘What on earth ?’

‘Sssh.’ He winked and put his finger to his lips. ‘It’s for the nipper.’ He looked significantly at Maureen.

‘For Maureen? But -‘ Jess looked at the parcel again.

‘Whatever - oh … Of course. It’s L ‘

‘Sssh,’ he said again. ‘We don’t want her knowing before Santa, do we? I thought it might keep her amused a bit over the holiday.’

‘Keep her amused! She’ll love it.‘Jess looked at him, her eyes bright. For goodness’ sake, she scolded herself, fancy wanting to cry because a butcher gives you his papier-mache lamb! ‘It’s very nice of you, Mr Hines. I’m really touched.’

He waved a hand. ‘It’s all right. I was getting a bit fed up with it on the counter anyway. And the kiddy’s fond of it. Like you say, there’s not much about in the way of toys just now.’

‘Well, I still think it’s really nice of you. And the baby’ll be thrilled.’

She went next door to the newsagent’s. Alice was there, serving behind the counter. Her face was pale but she managed to summon up a wan smile and nodded as Jess asked if she and Joy were still coming down to Annie’s on Christmas Day.

‘So long as you don’t mind looking at my long face,’ she said. ‘I can’t feel much like Christmas, Jess, and that’s the truth of it. But you’re right, I’ve got to make an effort for Joy’s sake. She deserves a bit of fun, and I know she won’t come without me.’

‘I should think not. Families ought to be together at Christmas,‘Jess said, and closed her mouth abruptly. There she went again, saying exactly the wrong thing! It was so easy.

But there was one thing you could say for Alice, she never took offence where there was none meant. And she really did

at the boys and giving them a toffee each out of a jar. And Joy looked happier too, with Rose to talk to again.

It really seemed as if there had been a truce declared. No bombers came over all day that Monday, the day before Christmas Eve, and there were no warning sirens. The short December afternoon drew into evening and blackout curtains went up. Fixes were lit and families who had been parted for months clustered about them. They made toast and ate scones and doughnuts and lardy cake. They played games and listened to the wireless. They almost forgot to listen, to wait, to be afraid.

But the Luftwaffe had not forgotten them. At ten minutes to seven, one bomber came unannounced. It flew over Portsmouth, a single droning note in the empty sky and, before anyone could lift a finger, dropped a bomb packed with two and a half thousand pounds of high explosive. The detonation shook the whole city, and in every home families stared at each other and then raced for their shelters.