The War Widows (23 page)

‘How do we turn?’ Pete called. Then he trod on the back of her heels. ‘Sorry, sorry.’

‘Not half as sorry as I am,’ she snorted back, trying not to laugh and lose her balance.

‘What we need is two pints of Wilson’s best bitter and then we’ll make sweet music together. It’s all in the timing, isn’t it, Mrs Scott?’

‘Now stop that, young man, or I’ll tell the
Gazette
just what a naughty boy you are. One more time after two…’

‘Play it again, Sam,’ he whispered, and this time it worked. In step with the music they ambled across the stage and managed a turn without falling over.

There was a clap from the back of the hall.

Now they had to put on the costume and hope for the best. Lily was so hot she couldn’t breathe. ‘Stop, we’ve done enough.’

‘Oh, no, I’m not coming out of here until we’re feet perfect,’ Pete said, squeezing her in a ticklish spot.

For the first time in years she felt like a girl again, tousled, light of foot, harum-scarum, chasing Freddie’s gang. For a few precious minutes she forgot she was Brown Owl and Walt’s bride-to-be, and that troubled her. She hadn’t felt this fun when she rehearsed with Diana.

‘If you need a permanent replacement, you know where to come,’ Pete laughed, and Lily felt her neck flushing up.

‘Thanks, but Diana will make it on the night. I’m sorry I was short with you the other week, only we were that busy…’ It was the best she could think of on the spur of the moment.

‘Not another word, love. I know how things are for you with Christmas coming up. It’s not a good time when there’s folks missing at the table. Your brother thought the world of you, you know. He wrote many a time. He was worried for you…’

‘What about?’

‘Nothing. I spoke out of turn. He said you were the backbone of the family.’

‘The doormat, more like,’ she said.

‘No, he didn’t say that…I’m sorry.’

‘It’s what he meant-Doormat Lil.’

‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ Pete said, pulling himself out of the costume.

‘Don’t worry, you’ve done your good deed for the day,’ she snapped, not looking him in the eye. Why did he have to spoil things by reminding her of Freddie? What had her brother been saying in his letters home?

The moment was over, the magic gone.

Now Lily sat sulking in her room, going over that conversation when there was a knock on the door, a gentle tentative tap of knuckles on wood. ‘Miss Lily, we’ve made a cuppa char for you. We are sorry to upset the applecart. We’ll help you make a jolly Christmas do. You tell us what to do…’

Ana and Su were careful not to break their truce. Nothing was too much trouble. Su made a little altar of winter jasmine flowers and holly berries, and Ana brought pictures of the Holy Virgin and saints framed with shells and gold paint from the Greek Orthodox church in Manchester as peace offerings for Lily’s bedside table.

‘You are number one friend to us. Forgive us, we are silly girls who quarrel over no-good boy.’

‘I’m sorry, but the festive season is such hard work and it’s bringing back so many memories,’ was all there was left to say.

The Review had gone down a treat. The hall was jam-packed with proud parents and Lily’s Brownies had not let her down. Diana turned up for their star turn in the cow costume and they got lots of laughs. Even Walt thought she’d done well and that was praise indeed.

Now she must turn her mind to all the last-minute
preparations to make their Christmas Day as bearable as it could be under the circumstances. She used to love the hustle and bustle in town, the falling snow and the pretty decorations in the shops, the tinsel trimmings, decorating the tree and making secret purchases, but it was so hard to get in the mood this year. Then she recalled the heart of the Christmas Story, about a babe in a manger, refugees and visitors, and it sort of cheered her up. There must always be room at the inn at Waverley House. Freddie would have wanted it that way.

On Christmas morning Joy was tearing open everyone’s parcels and Dina chewed on the paper, not really understanding what it was all about. Neville had a stocking full of toys and wouldn’t share them. The house filled up with ancient relatives and friends, and the joint of pork miraculously stretched to fill all the plates.

Enid brought a tin of mincemeat pies, which Su and Ana had never eaten before, and Walter’s mother brought an apology for a Christmas cake that cut into crumbs. They sat hugging the fire, waiting to be entertained.

They sang carols and played charades whilst the older ladies dozed in armchairs. Ivy was decked up in a new velvet dress and was as sweet as pie for the day, knowing that Diana Unsworth and her parents had invited the family for a drink at Green Lane on Boxing Day and she was desperate to be included.

Why couldn’t every day be like Christmas Day-no back-biting, plenty to eat, surprises round every corner,
Lily wondered. Ana and Susan rose to the occasion. Where they found that gift of perfume she daren’t guess. No one had ever bought her perfume before. This perfume would be saved for her wedding night.

Walt’s gift was a warm football scarf and a diary, such a sensible thought. Thank goodness she had knitted him a new jumper with a Fair Isle border earlier in the year and put it away.

If only Dad was here to give her away, but Levi would expect to do the honours if he stayed sober. It was still hard to believe that her little brother was never coming back. Sometimes she dreamed he’d turn up with a knapsack over his shoulder and smack a kiss on her forehead. ‘Hello, Sis.’ She kept waiting for one of his funny Christmas cards to pop through the letterbox but it never came.

The gathering at Dr Unsworth’s house on Boxing Day was a select one. All the years Lily had walked up and down the lane and never realised what a secret treasure their black-and-white timbered farmhouse was. It was crammed between two Victorian villas with a large garden hidden at the back. It was an ancient house with mullion windows, the original manor house of the district when everywhere was just fields and forests, not cul-de-sacs and avenues.

She had never seen such a huge fireplace, with benches set in the side, oak beams in the ceiling and a fuggy smell of woodsmoke and cigars. It was festive, shabby and welcoming, like Diana herself, who had filled the drawing room with neighbours and nurses, friends and relatives.

The more Lily saw of Diana, the more she liked her, but there was always a sadness in her gaze, the wariness of a private person who carried many burdens. They were kindred spirits despite the difference in their education and social standing.

Maria was visiting Marco with Queenie, but Eva was here, off duty, sipping sherry in the corner. Ivy’s eyes were on stalks, taking in the large drawing room, the tasteful arrangement of greenery and berries, the family portraits on the walls. Neville and the girls were banished to the kitchen for treats with other small children.

It was Diana who came up to Ana with a brilliant idea.

‘We’ve got this recruitment going in the New Year, an exhibition for trainee nurses and assistants at the Infirmary. They’re looking for domestics and ward helps and auxiliary nurses for the special wings for the elderly. With your wartime experience you’d be ideal. Think about it,’ she smiled, drifting away to serve her guests with pinwheels of white bread filled with tinned salmon, leaving Ana agog at such a suggestion.

‘Once they know I’m unmarried with child, I won’t get work,’ she whispered in Lily’s ear.

‘You don’t know that,’ she replied. This was too good an opportunity for her to miss. Diana would give a glowing reference. No one was likely to ask for her marriage lines. Surely with her Red Cross experience in Crete it was obvious here was someone already hardened to the realities of death and injury? Diana’s influence and name would get her through to the final
interview and a chance to work as an auxiliary nurse with a view to further training.

Su was pleased with this news, much to everyone’s surprise. She had been given notice the week before Christmas, dismissed from Moorlands School because a soldier returned to take up his old position.

‘What’ll I do?’ she asked now.

‘You could take Ana’s place on the stall,’ Lily offered.

‘But beware of the Levi’s walking fingers,’ Ana warned.

‘I’ve tried to speak to him but he thinks it’s all a joke,’ Lily blushed. Her brother was being more stupid than ever. Thank goodness Enid was close at hand to keep an eye on things.

‘I will spike his ardour,’ Su laughed. ‘In my country we say an unmarried woman is not honoured even if she has ten brothers. Did I tell you about my great escape on the boat? This sailor comes to my cabin, face as sweet as a choirboy, and asks for a mug of water. I turn my back and in he comes, shutting the door. It wasn’t water he was wanting, so I smile and say I must slip into some pretty clothes and he must close his eyes. I pick up sleeping Joy, shut the sailor in the cabin and call the guard. I know all their tricks. Levi will not win and I can help you until I find another position. I will see more of Joy. She is such a bright child. I am going to teach her to dance Burmese
pwe
while her feet and wrists are young and pliable. She will shine for us.’

Susan liked to brag about her daughter’s beauty and dancing ability. She was going into the baby ballet class with Rosa in the new term.

‘When shall we all meet again?’ said Diana as they all dawdled in the hallway to gather coats and cloaks and put on ancient wellington boots and gumshoes. It had started to snow again and the paths home would be treacherous.

‘Soon. I think Maria has plans for an evening,’ Lily smiled.

‘What plans are these?’ interrupted Ivy, who had been trying to catch the ends of conversations all afternoon. Lily ignored her as they made their farewells and thank yous at the door and slithered back round the corner to Division Street.

‘I hope you’re not on with another of them dinners,’ muttered Ivy on the way home. ‘Walt’ll have something to say about that! That man’s a saint to put up with all your gallivanting. He should put his foot down. People are beginning to talk.’

‘About what?’ Lily was curious, despite herself.

‘How you prefer the company of foreigners to decent English folk like a…’ She was struggling for the word, ‘like one of them calculators in the war.’

‘You mean a collaborator.’ Lily corrected her ignorance with a smile. ‘The war’s over now and if more nations got together over a meal there’d be a lot less fighting.’

‘Don’t you get clever with me! It’s your fiancé you should be dining with.’

‘Oh, don’t talk daft! Walt understands. It’s only once in a blue moon,’ Lily retorted with a lot more conviction than she was feeling.

*  *  *

The big surprise for all the children was a trip to see
Puss in Boots
at the King’s Theatre; a treat to tide them through the long winter ahead.

‘I do not understand,’ said Su. ‘This is a nursery rhyme story with music, boys are ladies and girls are boys?’

How can you explain pantomime to foreigners, Lily mused, all those performers and dancing girls getting mixed up, or why men are dressed as women and girls dressed as boys? Then there was the business of everyone shouting from the audience and the actors racing on the stage and being chased by ghosts.

Rosa and Joy hid under their seats, and Neville had a tantrum when it was time to go back to Maria’s for ice-cream sodas. A good time was had by all but Lily was glad the festive season was now over.

If only the winter would melt away as easily. They’d not seen anything like it for years. It hadn’t stopped snowing since November. There was talk of power cuts and freeze-ups, coal shortages and more rationing. Still, it was all good for business if they could find supplies. Colds, flu, bad chests, sprains and chilblains, catarrh, stiff joints and runny noses are what they liked. Winstanley Health and Herbs was in for a busy time.

In the New Year came the visit to Ana’s hospital for the recruitment exhibition. The Infirmary was like a little town on its own, with huge red-brick buildings topped by towers and turrets like a fortress. In the olden days it was a place feared because if people were old and poor they would have to stay there until they died,
wearing uniforms and shawls and starched caps to show they lived by the public purse.

Diana warned them of the smells in the long corridors. ‘I know it looks like a soldier’s barracks on the outside. It was built in a time when charity was cold and calculated, measured out in spoons not buckets. Now we’ve got new wards and a hospital built in the grounds but it does look grim.’

Esme had thrown her hands up in horror at the thought of Ana working in such a depressing place. ‘Once those gates are closed, it is still the workhouse,’ she said, shaking her head and sighing. ‘I don’t suppose you had those back home.’

‘No,’ Ana replied. ‘In Crete, a family looks after its own. Our monks and nuns take care of the sick. There are hospitals in the towns. We look after our own in the village…but who know what happens now?’

There was sad news from her Manchester church of many brave priests who were shot for harbouring escaped soldiers and partisans, their monasteries burned to the ground. The news brought that film of mist and tears into her eyes when she spoke of her homeland, a far-off place, like heaven, out of reach until she died.

Perhaps one day, Lily mused, their children might be able to visit places where associations with Freddie were strongest: Rangoon, the Mediterranean Sea, Athens and Palestine. One day she hoped they might find where he was buried and take his children to mark the spot. At least it must be warm in Palestine.

‘The wards are short of attendants. I will get good
training. It is not a prison. Prison is in the mind,’ Ana said. ‘Diana says they have many plans to brighten up the wards now there is new National Health Service to come.’

Ivy was listening, ready to splash her words with cold water. ‘I think it’s a disgusting place. I’ve been sick after visiting there with Zion Chapel. It gives me the creeps, all those cots and barred windows. Why do you want to work with feeble oldies and dribblers anyway? The place must stink of wet beds, and worse. You’ll get nothing out of it but a bad back,’ she added for good measure. ‘And there are tramps going up there to the refuge house every night, a load of dirty men and women hanging around scrounging from bins, full of fleas. How can you even think about it, bringing back germs into this respectable house?’