War Baby (24 page)

‘I'm going to fetch Charlie's National Dried from Powells'. I'll make a cuppa when I get back. We can have a fancy cake too. Even you, young Charlie,' she added, tapping her nephew's nose as she passed.

Charlie tried to grab her finger but missed.

It didn't take a minute to fetch the tin of National Dried Milk, concentrated orange juice and cod liver oil, all of which young Charlie was entitled to. Because the clinic was all the way up in Kingswood, the district nurse brought it in the pannier of her bicycle and left it at the Powells'. Mrs Powell had been her usual offhand self and Miriam hadn't been around. Ruby had asked her where she was.

‘Behaving herself as a good Christian girl should,' she'd responded, fixing Ruby with a pair of accusing black eyes.

Ruby gathered up what she'd come for, tossed her head and stalked out. She loitered between the shop and the lane leading to Stratham House, trying to guess which route Andrew would take: would he come down California Road or come along the main road and up the hill? No matter which way they came, she was likely to miss them. She couldn't keep her eyes on both routes. There was nothing for it but to head for home, for the bakery. That's when she had the sneaking suspicion she was finally going in the right direction. Something told her that Mary would head for home. She didn't know why, she just knew.

‘I know that things aren't right,' said Ruby as she marched alongside her sister.

Andrew had left, the sound of the motorcar gradually fading into the distance.

‘No. They are not,' said Mary, presuming she was referring to Andrew Sinclair. ‘I swear I will drive myself everywhere in future. I will not be swayed.'

‘Whatever did he say to upset you?'

‘It's something I have to deal with.'

‘Look,' said Ruby keeping pace all the way to the back door. Once in the lee of the back wall of the house she grabbed her sister's elbow, forcing her to stop and face her before they went in. ‘I know something's wrong, Mary. Just talk to me about it. I'll listen. I promise. Are you staying for supper?'

‘I'd like to. Mike will know where I am if he wants me, and anyway, I'd like to see Charlie.'

‘And we need to talk,' Ruby said firmly.

‘I know.' Mary's eyes were averted. Because of the blackout there was little light to see by, but to Ruby it looked as though her sister was churning thoughts over in her mind.

‘Mary,' she said, taking a deep breath. ‘There's something I have to tell you. I was in your room over at Stratham House trying on your green dress and Mike came in. He thought—'

A pink blush spread over Mary's cheeks. ‘Ruby, can we talk about this later? I need to think things through and, well, there are personal things …'

‘I know.' Ruby's eyes locked with those of her sister. There were certain times when they seemed to communicate without the use of words. This was one of them.

‘Later?' Mary's chin jutted forward in the old way, a sign she was going to face whatever was wrong.

‘Later,' Ruby agreed. ‘After supper.'

‘And in private. Perhaps we could both put Charlie to bed and talk then.'

Ruby nodded.

Mike joined them for supper. Ruby noticed how tense he was, how he kept showering her sister with furtive glances as though waiting for a kind word or some sign that everything was going to be fine between them.

Frances diverted Mike's attention with imaginative details of her job prospects while there was a war on, though everyone knew she was too young to be allowed to do war work. Frances had not as yet accepted this, or the fact that she was needed at home to work in the bakery and look after young Charlie.

There had been talk of the school leaving age being raised from fourteen to fifteen, but although the law had been passed it wasn't likely to be implemented until the end of the war.

‘I think I would like to join the Royal Air Force,' stated Frances loftily. ‘I like the uniform and I think I would be very good at flying an aeroplane.'

Everyone laughed. Stan took the opportunity to inform her where she would be working once she'd left school.

‘Ain't it occurred to you that I'll need an extra pair of hands here? Your sister won't be around for ever you know.' He jerked his chin at Mary who looked down into her lap. She hadn't said a word about going to Lincolnshire.

Frances didn't look too happy until he pointed out that she'd also be looking after her cousin most of the time. ‘I think Charlie's dad would appreciate it,' he added.

Everyone noticed his misted eyes and sad smile, weak but sure signs that his time of mourning was over. His son Charlie would live in his heart, but there was a new Charlie now, a little boy who Stan determined would be a credit to his parents.

Well-fed and tired, young Charlie had fallen asleep.

‘Come here, little man. Time for bed.' Gently, so as not to wake him, Mary unclipped the harness that kept him fastened to his high chair.

Ruby also got up from her chair. ‘I'll come up with you.'

Once Charlie was undressed and snug beneath his blanket in his cot, the twin sisters, mirror images of each other except to those who knew them well, stood looking down at the rosy-cheeked child.

‘He looks the picture of contentment,' Ruby observed. She looked tellingly at her sister. ‘Which is more than I can say for you. What's the matter, Mary? And don't say nothing is wrong, because we both know it's not true.'

Mary stiffened, her fingers tightening over the bar of the cot, her knuckles angular with tension.

Ruby went over to the window, trying to appear nonchalant as she waited for her sister to decide whether she was going to deny anything being wrong or pour all her troubles out there and then. In the meantime she chanced opening a chink in the blackout curtains, just enough to see that the only light in the blackness were the myriad stars shining from an indigo sky. God, she reflected, did not respect the laws of the blackout. The moon and stars shone on regardless.

Along with these thoughts came more pressing ones concerning her sister's marriage. If Mary denied anything was wrong, was it right for her to persist, to make her reveal her problems?

Smoothing away the gap in the curtain, she turned back to face her sister, saw the tension in Mary's shoulders and heard the strangled sobs, which she was trying to make sound as though they were heavy sighs. Ruby was not fooled.

‘Mary!' Ruby threw her arms around her sister. Mary's head landed heavily on her shoulder. ‘Let it all out, Mary. For goodness' sake, let it all out.'

The sighs turned into the sobs they really were. ‘Ruby, I feel such a fool! I shouldn't have married him. It wasn't fair. On either of us. I know nothing. I know absolutely nothing about men!'

Ruby closed her eyes and soundlessly cursed those that had started a war that had turned the world upside down. ‘Tell me about it,' she said softly, mindful of the sleeping baby.

Mary raised her head while reaching into her sleeve for a handkerchief. She blew her nose quietly. Her eyes stayed fixed on Charlie as she voiced her fear, her foolishness and her regret.

‘You see, I was never like you Ruby. You've always been at ease with men and although I tried to be like you, I never was.' She shrugged. ‘I kept my distance. I was Mary Sweet, the dutiful daughter who always wanted everyone to think well of her. I was always standoffish with men, the girl who would remain a virgin until the day she married, the girl who never invited gossip or wicked rumours.'

‘Definitely not like me then,' giggled Ruby.

Mary laughed quietly. ‘I scared them away. You see, I just never knew … about things … you know … what men and women did to make babies … not really …'

‘How did you think babies got made?' Ruby couldn't help sounding amazed and if the room had been better lit, Mary would have seen her surprised expression.

‘I guess I knew on some level … the mechanics of it but not the reality. I just didn't have any direct experience.' Mary shrugged again. ‘I knew nothing, and once faced with having to do it …'

Ruby didn't know what to say. Even though her preliminary suspicion had proved right, it still took some believing. But there it was. Mary and her husband had never consummated their marriage.

‘The thought of it scares you?'

Mary kept her eyes lowered as she nodded, her handkerchief scrunched into a tight knot between her tense fingers.

Ruby frowned. Living in a village on the edge of countryside, it was always assumed that nobody needed to be told the facts of life because it was there all around them. And how often had they heard their father speak of taking the sow to the boar, and a few months later hearing of a load of little suckers being born.

Most people worked things out for themselves what happened between a bull and a cow, a sow and a boar, a man and a woman, though obviously not Mary. There'd always been naughty comments in the shop and elsewhere, but Mary, it seemed, had been above all that, knowing what they were saying but somehow managing to distance herself from it.

‘I've let Mike down,' Mary was saying. ‘Our honeymoon was a disaster and I still can't … though I have to … I must!'

Ruby gripped her sister's shoulders. ‘Now look here, Mary. I've got something to tell you.'

She went on to tell Mary what had happened as she was trying on the green dress. ‘He thought I was you and said that he would wait until you were ready. He didn't realise it was me and I don't think we should tell him. Do you?'

Mary lifted her head and raised her eyes which were still moist, though she was no longer sobbing. ‘It's all come to a head today. Andrew Sinclair more or less told me that I was frigid and that suited him fine. He would have married me like a shot. He doesn't want a physical relationship with a wife. He doesn't want children, all he wants is a companion.' She laughed weakly. ‘Anyway, I don't think his mother would have approved of him sleeping with a woman. He's still her baby, I think.'

She looked down at the sleeping child, her expression more serene now and certainly less troubled. In fact, thought Ruby, her eyes are full of love.

Mary turned back to face her sister, her eyes shining with a new resolve. ‘But I don't want to be that woman. Facing up to what marriage really involved was such a shock. I knew what I was expected to do, but couldn't bring myself to do it.' She shook her head. ‘I feel such a fool. Such a big baby. Then today I realised just how much I love Mike and how awful it would be if … if anything happened to him before we'd actually …'

‘Made love.'

Mary looked at her as though she'd made a great revelation.

‘Yes,' she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘Made love. Yes. We need to make love and perhaps …' Her gaze travelled once again to the sleeping baby who was making snuffling noises in his sleep. ‘Make love and make one of those. Now wouldn't that make Dad happy?'

Before they had dinner that night, Mary took two glasses and a decanter of brandy upstairs. She didn't tell Michael she'd done it, not until they were undressing did she point it out.

‘A nightcap. Isn't that what they call it?' Her heart was hammering in her chest. She'd never done anything like this before.

Michael looked surprised. ‘Am I getting this right? You're plying me with drink in order to take advantage of me?'

She felt herself blushing. This was so unlike her, and yet she felt that once she'd done it …

‘I think I could do with it. I love you, Mike, but I'm a silly goose who—'

‘Not you are not!' He hugged her tightly to him, felt the tension in her body ease as he kissed her forehead, her head, her ears. ‘Would you like me to pour?'

She nodded.

He loosed her from his grasp and poured them a measure. ‘Here's to us,' he said. ‘Always and for ever.'

The brandy left a burning sensation on her tongue. It left her feeling a bit light-headed. It also helped her relax.

Suddenly she was seeing how gaunt his features had become since the first time they'd met. He'd been close to death so many times, yet didn't go into much detail, but now she didn't need him to. She could see it on his face and almost feel it, as though she had been there with him.

‘Michael!' She buried her head against his chest, her tears wetting his shirt. ‘I don't want to lose you!'

He wrapped his arms round her. ‘I don't intend that you should.'

To her surprise she didn't need any more brandy. An unfamiliar need seemed to explode deep inside. Her blood hammered in her head. Their kisses were passionate and taken between great gasps of breath and words of love.

Unlike their wedding night, their clothes were discarded hastily, left in crumpled heaps on the floor. There was no pretty nightdress laid out and none was needed. Mary wanted to feel her husband's bare flesh against hers.

The bed sheets were cool against her back. His hands were sometimes rough and sometimes gentle and she welcomed each different kind of touch. She wanted him. She wanted him inside her. Her body was no longer under her control. It was his, just as his body was hers. There was surprisingly little pain, just a lingering feeling afterwards that it wouldn't be long before she wanted him again, that she never wanted him to leave her side.

After that first time they lay stroking each other's bodies.

‘What was it really like?' she asked him.

‘Wonderful!' He kissed her.

Mary laughed. ‘That's not what I mean. I mean up there, flying over enemy territory?'

The beech trees at the edge of the churchyard creaked in the strong south-westerly wind. It had rained overnight and although grey clouds rolled across the sky like ghostly sheep, the rain held off though the grass was still damp.

Stan Sweet went down on one knee beside his wife's grave, pulling out weeds as he told her what was going on. ‘I've had to do a bit of apologising of late. I got a bit down after our Charlie was killed and, well, I put my friendship with Bettina Hicks on hold, ignored her, in fact. I felt I didn't deserve to be happy once our Charlie was gone. Then everything changed. I found out that our Charlie had a son with that Jewish girl Gilda. You may recall I told you all about her, how her husband got executed, accused, so she said, of printing anti-fascist leaflets. Poor girl. Now she's gone, killed by the same people who killed her husband. They've been dropping bombs all over. She was in London and her house was bombed. Anyway, I think I've already told you much of this already, but I just had to say what a joy the baby has brought into my life. Our grandson!' He chuckled. ‘Would you believe it? It's like having a ray of sun shining through after a very dark storm. New hope, I suppose, something special for the future. Life goes on and we must go on too.'