The War Widows (34 page)

‘I’ll buy you all some,’ Lily offered, laughing as Ana tried to bite into the pink fluff. ‘It’s nothing.’ She looked so disappointed. ‘Like cotton wool. You like, Ria?’

Maria shrugged. ‘It is big trick, just spun sugar in a machine.’

Esme pointed out the little rock stall. ‘We can’t go home without a bit of Blackpool Rock, but you’ll need your coupons.’

Through the window they saw a man working the toffee into long tubes like broom handles, then working it smaller and smaller, fitting in the colours into letter shapes.

‘It’ll crack my dentures,’ Esme called.

‘Come on, over here,’ yelled Lily, pointing to a striped booth with a thick velvet curtain. ‘Here’s a fortuneteller…Come on, my treat.’

Everyone hung back, uncertain. The notice said, ‘Gypsy Bolero, Psychic to the Stars. Satisfaction Guaranteed’.

One by one they all trooped in, but Esme held back. ‘I don’t hold with telling fortunes, Lil.’ But even she went in and came out smiling.

‘I have to hand it to her, she knew her stuff. She told me after many sorrows I’d be moving on to a higher plain with lovely views and my children’s children would travel to the ends of the earth, that I was blessed with many generations to come to make our family proud. What do you think about that?’

‘She told me that after my sorrow I will find great happiness and new work, and my little girl will be a big star one day,’ Maria smiled.

Ana nodded. ‘She tell me I have very clever girl and one day I will see my island again. I am happy.’

‘She said I have a very good businesswoman hat on my shoulders, I will sell houses and make lots of money,’ Su added. ‘But, Lily, you must go in too. Go on, it was your big idea.’

Lily was pushed through the curtain and sat down.

‘Did I do all right for you?’ smiled the gypsy, smoking her clay pipe. ‘In the right order?’

‘You did just fine. You’ve put a smile on their faces.’ Lily got up to leave.

‘Not so fast, dearie…have one on the house?’

‘No!’

‘Come on…only fair you do it too…hold out your hand,’ she ordered, and Lily sat down again reluctantly, opening her palm.

‘This is a strong hand with much heart. I see many changes here. I see foreign shores and a long and happy marriage…not yet, in a year or two. It is a good hand…’

‘Well, it can’t be mine then. I’m getting wed next month!’ snapped Lily, shooting out of the door.

‘Well?’ Everyone was waiting.

‘Come on, time for the paddling pool and a trip round Stanley Park. Might as well make the most of a beautiful day.’

Esme was left in charge of the little ones, wading into the paddling pool to play with them and pick them up when Neville pushed them over. She could see other grannies looking enviously at her brood, so different but appealing with their curls and baby chatter. What will life be like for them in the future? She prayed that there’d be no more wars or depression to spoil their lives.

‘I am thrice blessed,’ she smiled, knowing she really meant it.

They sang all the way home, from nursery rhymes to Maria giving a sporting rendition of the aria from
Madame Butterfly
, ‘One Fine Day’.

That girl had a lovely voice and a good heart. Esme
hadn’t enjoyed herself so much for years. She’d let her hair down and no mistake.

Only Lil was silent. Something was up there and no mistake. How she’d changed in the last few months, grown stronger and more independent, but her eyes were heavy and sad. A mother could tell when her kid was unhappy.

They dropped Maria and the sleeping child back at their digs. Neville had hardly been a spot of bother. One sharp word from his grandmother and he did as he was told. That was the joy of being a grandma: she could hand them back at the end of the day.

Sleeping children always looked adorable but in Esme’s eyes those sleepy heads were the finest in all Grimbleton; the future Winstanleys in the making. They must want for nothing.

After a subdued supper Su, Ana and Lily trooped into the big room. The girls were hesitant and fearful, knocking on the door wide-eyed and ready to hear the worst.

‘Is it true, Daw Esme? You are moving and we must leave?’ asked Su.

‘One day soon I’ll be too old for these stairs. This is a home for families, not pensioners.’ But Esme was smiling.

What’s the old rogue up to now? Lily wondered. She’s enjoying this, watching everyone jockeying for position. Esme Winstanley was as fit as a butcher’s dog. Years yet of chapel flower rotas, welfare clinics, Ladies Guild meetings and missionary fund-raising bazaars.

‘We can’t buy your house…we shall be sad to go but your health must come first,’ said Ana.

‘Look, I’ve not right decided yet whether to sell outright or rent it. If I do, then you’re welcome to stay on and look after the property until such times…Who knows what will happen in the future? You are young still. You have to make your own lives now, but I’ve had enough of being a referee. Once Levi finds a place of his own to live, there’d be room to take in lodgers or bed and breakfast for commercial travellers. This old villa would soon pay its way.’

‘Would you trust us to run a business for you?’ asked Su.

‘I don’t see why not. You girls are honest and hardworking. You keep your own room spick and span. It’d be up to you to make a go of it,’ Esme replied.

‘You are a good woman, Daw Esme. How can we repay you?’ Su asked.

‘Just you let your daughters grow up to make us all proud that they carry the name but just let’s keep this to yourselves for a while. Don’t let on to Ivy or you’ll never get shut of them. Time enough to tell them when they’ve flitted house.’ She winked at Lily, seeing the look of relief on her face. ‘By the way, did Maria Santini really go to the police with her letter?’

‘No,’ Lily whispered. ‘She told me this afternoon she’s too ashamed. I think she’ll be looking for rooms to rent soon. If she asked, could she come here?’

‘If she can pay the rent and serve up breakfasts perhaps she can have my room when I’m gone. That’ll be one in the eye for our Ivy, having the Olive Oil Club under one roof. She’ll be out that door faster than a dog with fleas.

‘I have to admit I always did like that Italian’s spirit. Not afraid of hard work, is Maria, even if she is a bit on the theatrical side. You’ve made yourself some good friends there, Lily. Your dad used to say you’re as rich as your friends but to have a friend, you have to be a friend first. It shows your heart’s in the right place. But do you really think it was Ivy who sent the letter?’

‘Sadly we do, Daw Esme,’ said Su. ‘She knew what was in the letter before we told her, but it’ll go no further now. Maria has enough to think about.’

‘The sooner Levi gets his family on its own, the better. I’ve been too soft with him. I’ll see right by them, for Neville’s sake, and then I’m going to get myself up in the hills or by the sea. Squabbling children are like mountains, best viewed from a distance, but my door’ll always be open for you, our Lil, if you change your mind. I’m only a bus ride away.’

Why did Mother go on so about Walter? He was doing his best. His mother wanted her slice of him too. The wedding was only weeks away so it was time now to give it some thought.

For all her harsh words Esme had found them two gold sovereigns, the ones Granddad gave her for passing exams. The jeweller in town would beat them into a wedding ring and there’d be enough left over for two tiny crosses for the little girls to wear.

‘I’ll always keep my eye out for them both; no favourites, mind,’ said Esme. ‘They’re the last link I have to my son.’

There wasn’t an ounce of sleep in her that night. Lily, staring up at the bedroom ceiling, felt panic rising in her chest as she waited for the dawn chorus of sparrows chirruping on the slate tiles above.

The contours of each piece of furniture were so familiar: the mahogany tallboy, the little roll-top desk that came from Granny Crompton’s house, the oak dressing table. Two watercolours hanging from the picture rail, and the peony-flowered curtains were so much part of her childhood and growing up.

This room was always a quiet refuge at the back of the house away from the thunder of the traffic, away from noisy brothers, or now Neville screaming with colic in the night. Slowly, though, her home was turning into a house of quarrelling women. Nothing was as it once was. How could it be? The war had put a stop to that.

Of course Mother had the right to move on from Division Street some day, but the thought that her
childhood home and all its memories were going to be broken up came as a shock to Lily.

It was scary enough to be moving out herself, but not to have Mother in her usual armchair in the front room was unsettling. What if Ana and Su fell out? She couldn’t always be there to sort things out.

Well Cottage was so tiny, with low ceilings and twisty stairs. The two of them were both beanpoles and kept banging heads on the rafters. How would they fit in?

And there was another thing. It was going to be quiet up there until she got used to the silence of the hills. It wasn’t really their first choice, but so little was on offer. A long way out of town on the bus, too far for visitors to pop in-who would come and see them there? She hadn’t even got the use of the van now, since abandoning the shop.

Levi was being so mean she was no longer sure that she even wanted him to give her away. Why did any woman of age need someone else to give them away? She was not a piece of furniture.

Transport for her new job was going to be a problem. The Rover was no longer on stilts in the garage, but that belonged to Mother. Without transport she and Walter would be reliant on buses, on lifts. Whose idea was it to move so far out? It was Walter’s dream she was following. It had been easy to be swept along by his schemes and go along with his plans at first but now she felt uneasy.

It all seemed so romantic and old fashioned when they first discussed moving out into the country, but now it felt impractical.

Bill and Avril Crumblehume, who owned Longsight Travel, lived above their business, but they were looking for somewhere bigger to rent now they were expecting twins in the autumn.

The one good decision she had made was in going to work for them. There was never a dull moment and so much to be done before the local mill holiday week. Not everyone could afford to go away when the mills shut so they were advertising mystery tours and day trips to the Lakes and Southport, to York Minster and Museum by charabanc, and seats on excursion trains to the seaside. Then there was the coach trip to Paris, via the cross-Channel ferry. This was to be Longsight Travel’s first continental excursion. Unknown to Walt, she’d reserved seats for their honeymoon on the bus. With so many regulations and details to finalise there was hardly time to think about her own wedding day.

Sometimes, during the tea break in the morning, she found herself staring out over Longsight Square, with its railings and statue of Abraham Longsight, one of the founding fathers of Grimbleton. The lilac bushes were almost over and the first of the municipal rose bushes was coming into flower.

In its own way this square was just as peaceful a setting as the surroundings of Well Cottage. The bustle of the town streets was muffled by trees, with everything ready to hand there: shops, work, the park and picture house.

The challenge of this new job excited her and she wanted to go to night school to improve her French
skills. How would she arrive on time for classes when the wintry nights became snowy and dark and the buses infrequent?

Oh, what’s wrong with me? she sighed. It must be wedding nerves. Surely all she ever wanted was to be going down the aisle with the man she loved on her arm, a home of their own? All these wishes were coming true and yet her mind was full of the leaving of Division Street and its number eight bus route. This was crazy when there was so much to look forward to, and yet…

Everything was changing. Maria was free now. Ivy and Levi would soon be out of their hair too. There was so much to do. She ought to be glad for everyone, and most of all for herself. She should be excited about her marriage but so many ‘ought tos’ and ‘should dos’ and ‘must dos’ and ‘have tos’ were ringing through her head.

Walt had come up trumps with Well Cottage. Mother was going along with the wedding plans and not interfering. Elsie Platt was not complaining, for once. So much to be excited about, grateful for and yet…What was wrong with her?

Was Walt insisting they live out of town just his own way of keeping her close at hand? There was no doubt he was jealous of her friendships within the Olive Oil Club.

‘It’ll do you good to get away from that rum lot. I don’t trust girls in trousers. Ever since the war, you see them gadding about in slacks as if they were fellas. That Diana is a one for wearing pants. It’s not natural. Your shape isn’t made for trousers,’ he added, while she was
bent double in a boiler suit, trying to make inroads into the jungle of weeds in the back garden. ‘And what’s all this about a party in King’s Park? We’ve enough to be doing here.’

This was the annual pageant party that started off the wakes celebrations with an open-air band and dancing, fairground stalls and a theatre display. Lily was taking the Brownie pack for the team sports races and meeting up with the others to go round the fair. It was to be her last outing as a single woman. She suspected the Olive Oils had some plan to dress her up as the mill girls did before a wedding but she didn’t mind. It would be good to get together again.

‘I have to go if it’s going to be my last time as a free woman,’ she snapped.

‘You’ve changed, Lil,’ he said, eyeing her long legs in the khaki boiler suit.

‘Don’t call me Lil. I’m Lee at work, now. Don’t you think that’s modern?’

She’d gone with her flash of inspiration when she started in her new job, introducing herself as Miss Lee Winstanley. ‘It sounds so professional, don’t you think?’

‘Why bother when you’ll be Lily Platt in a few weeks?’ Walt was not impressed by the initiative. He didn’t like change.

‘I know…but I’ve always hated Lil.’