Wartime Brides (16 page)

‘Stables used to be out the back so they brought the horses through here. And the pigs for slaughtering out back. Nobody was too fussy in those days.’

Polly wanted to say you haven’t met Bertie and Hetty.
They’re
not too fussy either. But she held her tongue, took off her hat and shook the water out of it.

Colin bought the drinks. Polly had a small stout, Edna a port and lemon.

Colin made himself comfortable behind a pint of beer and explained how the staff in the Kings’ Picture House over the road had carried his wheelchair up the stairs then set him down in the front so he had the best view in the house. Edna sipped her drink quietly. Polly did the same and as she did so noticed a man at the bar was looking over at them.

He didn’t look like a local, mainly because his suit was well cut, and his trench coat looked to be a genuine Burberry.

Well, so what? she said to herself. You’re spoken for. Remember?

She dragged her gaze away from him and asked Edna and Colin about the wedding. They said it was set for May. Edna looked a little strained as she said it. ‘You’ll have to come,’ she said.

‘Couldn’t keep me away.’

‘I’ve asked Charlotte and the doctor to come too,’ said Edna, her eyes shining brightly. As if they’re bleeding royalty, thought Polly.

She then made her excuses to go to the ladies. When she came back out she wasn’t surprised to be apprehended by the well-dressed man she’d seen standing at the bar.

She folded her arms and looked at him defiantly. ‘Whatever’s on yer mind the answer’s “no”!’

‘You rate yerself too highly, my love. All I wanted to
know
is whether that bloke you’re with lost his legs in the war?’

Slightly abashed, Polly unfolded her arms. ‘Oh! Yes. He did.’

‘Poor sod. I thought so. Wouldn’t be offended if I bought ’im a drink would ’e? Only I know the pension ain’t much and jobs for the likes of ’im are just about nonexistent.’

Polly couldn’t help getting defensive. ‘He’s not an idiot, you know! He can make toys.’

He slid his hat to the back of his head. ‘Can he now! Well that’s interesting.’

To her surprise he went straight to their table. Polly followed.

He thrust his hand in front of Colin’s chin. ‘How do you do, chum. Billy Hills is my name and I’d like to buy you a drink.’

Colin’s jaw hardened. Somehow Polly knew he’d respond like that. He might not be whole but he certainly had his pride.

‘I don’t need charity!’

‘And I don’t give it,’ replied Billy Hills as he pulled a chair up to the table. ‘Get the drinks in, girl,’ he said pushing a ten-bob note into Polly’s hand. ‘I want to talk business.’

Both Colin and Edna seemed entranced by the time Polly got back to the table. Billy Hills was still talking.

‘Now it’s goin’ to be a bloody long time, ’scuse me language, until the big toy makers get back into production, specially the Jerry ones. Good toys they used to make. But
even
British producers went over to war work. Torpedoes instead of train sets, you might say.’

Polly set down the drinks and offered Billy the change. ‘Keep it, love,’ he said without even looking up at her.

Flash, she thought. He’s trying to impress me. I don’t care what he said, he’s fancying his chances.

They were still in the Stag and Hounds at closing time. But not once did Billy Hills try it on. She was only slightly disappointed. Just as she’d guessed, he wasn’t local. He was from Bedminster on the south side of the city near the tobacco factories, a fact he was imparting to Colin and Edna and saying how useful it would be seeing as he didn’t live too far from them.

She didn’t concentrate too much on the rest of it. He wasn’t her type. OK for money but had no class. Bit of a wide-boy in fact. Besides, Aaron could offer her America. No one else could offer her that.

But she was worried. Why hadn’t he turned up? What had happened to him?

‘You can come shopping with me.’ It was Saturday morning and Ethel Burbage was already plunging the pearl-ended pin into the crown of her dark brown hat. Her voice was as firm as her grip.

Edna made an attempt at rebellion. ‘I thought you were going to play whist at the Baptist Hall afterwards?’

Whist was the last thing Edna wanted to get involved with; middle-aged men and women, all concentrating on a game that seemed to her to hold little excitement.

‘You can walk on back with some of the shopping.’

Edna became aware that her mother was looking at her quizzically.

‘You’re looking happy. Blooming in fact. Is there something you think I should know about?’

Edna blushed. ‘No! Of course not.’

She knew what her mother was referring to. Had she and Colin gone too far. They hadn’t. It was just that Billy Hills had made them a certain proposition and it was like the answer to their prayers. On top of that she now knew where her baby was. All she had to do was plan how to get to see him.

They walked into East Street, Bedminster, a busy thoroughfare of shops, buses and factories. It was a lively, noisy place.

Next to the public toilets and the London Inn were the street traders. Barrows were piled high with beetroot, potatoes, cabbages, and mountains of swede, the latter used in some of the most stomach-churning recipes ever invented. The thought of those meals caused her almost to envy the skewbald horses that drew the carts, their muzzles permanently enclosed in feedbags that looped around their ears.

Greengrocer, butcher and baker; they went to each one, mostly standing outside in the queue, ration book at the ready.

The conversations going on around them were about continuing shortages.

‘Rations! I thought the war was over.’

‘Swedes don’t come in ships. Plenty of those around,’ said a woman with no teeth, a fag hanging out of the corner
of
her mouth. She wore a checked woollen scarf over a head bristling with metal curlers, her appearance enough to frighten off a battle fleet!

For five years the conversation had altered little. Edna was glad when they at last got to the Baptist Hall.

‘Take these.’ Her mother gave her the heaviest two of the four bags. ‘I’ll see you later. Make sure your father’s been fed by the time that I get back.’

The bags were heavy and although she could have made her way home straightaway, she didn’t. Thinking of Billy Hills and his offer to Colin made her light on her feet.

Her step grew even lighter as she approached a turning just before Sheene Road where a bomb had destroyed a building and the bombsite had been cleared by virtue of the black marketeers. Even before she got to it she could see the crowd of people and hear Billy Hills shouting out the prices of the goods he sold from the back of an old van.

‘I’ve got plans,’ Billy had told them. He’d also informed them he had a dicky heart which was why he’d not been accepted for active service. It was an old excuse but they needed his help so they chose to believe it.

Her eyes met Billy’s as she walked past and she fancied he gave her a barely perceptible nod. She smiled. Her mother wouldn’t approve of him. His clothes were too good, his eyes too quick and too dark. But he seemed like a fairy godmother to her.

Her spirits were high so she walked further than she had intended. She passed the police station, which vaguely resembled a small, square castle, crossed
Bedminster
Bridge and went up Redcliffe Hill where the Tudor-style spire of St Mary’s parish church stood sentinel over the muddle of old shop roofs. The rich aroma of good food steamed into the air as she passed the faggot and pea shop, its bow front hardly changed since the seventeenth century.

Edna licked her lips, but it wasn’t food she was looking at. On the left-hand side was a wonderful shop with curved glass windows to either side of its wide doorway and a central glass-covered podium from which a plaster bride stared out at the world.

Gorgeous wedding dresses adorned each of the side windows. They were far beyond her price range of course, but if Billy could do all he said he could, she might at least be able to get enough ration books together for a bit of decent material and make a copy.

Beautiful, she thought, as her gaze swept over gowns that seemed part of another world, one that had existed before austerity and blackouts. They took her breath away. She pressed her palm flat against the window and could almost imagine she was touching them.

I can just imagine myself dressed in that one there, a veil over my face and Colin standing…

Her thoughts stopped there. Colin would never be standing at her side. He would be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

A strange coldness seemed to take her over. Her hand dropped to her side. For all her married life she would go to bed with a man with no legs. Images of what those hidden stumps might look like had so far been kept firmly
at
bay. But one day soon she would have to confront them – or not marry him.

Her spirits dropped. Her fears grew. She cared for Colin. She knew she did. But did she love him or was it merely pity she was feeling? On top of that there was her shame and guilt, which her mother had used to make her keep her vow to Colin.

Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn’t see the door swing open or the smart woman dressed in a brown suit with black velvet detail who came out carrying two large bags.

‘Edna! Now don’t tell me! Which one are you going to have?’

‘Mrs Hennessey-White – Charlotte!’ said Edna swiftly correcting herself before Charlotte did.

‘Lovely, aren’t they?’ said Charlotte, her voice mellow with admiration.

Edna turned her face back to the window. ‘I suppose they are.’

‘You don’t sound very convinced. Having problems?’

‘Well …’ Edna began.

‘I see. Pre-marital nerves. I think you need a heart-to-heart talk with a long-married woman. How about a cup of tea?’

Charlotte looked as if she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

‘That would be lovely,’ said Edna. And it would. She wasn’t going to say anything silly. Just have a cup of tea.

The teashop door had an old-fashioned bell that jangled on a coiled spring as they pushed it open. A waitress zig-zagged through the closely packed tables to get to them.

Charlotte ordered. ‘Tea for two. Biscuits would be nice if you’ve got them.’

‘Certainly, madam,’ said the waitress. ‘But we only have digestives. Is that all right, madam?’

Charlotte told her it was.

They took a seat by the window. They could watch the new double deckers crawl up past the ornate Victorian tram supports that had once carried the electric wires and now merely stood like leafless plants in the middle of the road.

The tables were covered with white cloths. Brass bits and pieces hung from the walls and the white crockery clinked pleasantly around them. Sugar lumps were not left in a dish on the table. Two were supplied in each saucer when the tea arrived at the table.

‘That’s why I ordered biscuits,’ stated Charlotte with an amused grin. ‘One lump for the first cup of tea. One for the second. The biscuits make you believe you’ve used more than that.’

She proceeded to pour.

‘Now, Edna. Tell me what you’re so worried about.’

Edna felt Charlotte’s eyes on her as she pushed the cup and saucer across the table.

‘Well … it’s difficult.’

Charlotte leaned closer and in a low voice said, ‘Is it about the first night? Is that it?’

Staring into her tea, Edna shook her head. ‘No. It’s nothing like that. Not really.’ She sighed, not wanting to tell anyone because, in truth, she hated hearing the words herself. But wasn’t it only fair – both to herself and
Colin
– that she question her motives? A second opinion could be very helpful.

‘I feel confused,’ she blurted, her hands grasping her cup tightly. ‘Am I marrying him for the right reasons? He’s changed. I’ve changed.’

‘Oh!’ Charlotte said it softly, as though she understood completely.

‘I hope I love him. I care for him. I know that. But do I love him enough to marry him or is it merely pity?’

Charlotte looked away, silently readjusting the yellow scarf she was wearing. Edna assumed she was thinking her own thoughts, probably feeling thankful that her husband had returned from the war unscathed.

Charlotte cleared her throat. ‘Did you love him before he went?’

Edna nodded, looked down at the soft brown of the milk-starved tea, her hands clasped nervously together. ‘He’s always been around. We’d both always taken it for granted that we would marry. So did our parents. But so much happens in war, doesn’t it?’

It was hard to finish an outpouring once it started, but Edna knew it had to happen. She’d tell so much, but she couldn’t, mustn’t, tell all.

‘Just me being silly I suppose,’ she said with a nervous laugh. ‘But I want to be sure.’

Charlotte patted her hand. ‘Of course you do. Is there anything else you want to ask me?’

Edna shook her head. ‘Have you bought some lovely things?’ she asked, in an effort to turn the conversation in
a
different direction. She nodded at the carrier bags nestling at the side of Charlotte’s chair.

‘Bits and pieces,’ said Charlotte, delving into one of the bags and bringing out a bundle of muslin, cotton, silk and linen scraps. ‘The bridal shop gave them to me. I’m setting up a little sewing group to make baby clothes for one of the orphanages.’ A watery look came to her eyes. ‘Not that many of them are true orphans. Most are put up for adoption or otherwise by girls and women with no men to support them. Some of the mothers are unmarried and wanting to restart their lives. Some are married and in a hurry to get the unwanted child out of the way before the husband comes back from the war.’

Edna felt the colour drain from her face. In her hurry to appear unaffected by Charlotte’s statement she reached swiftly for her cup, clumsily hit the handle and sent tea into the plate of biscuits.

She sprang to her feet. ‘I’m so sorry!’

Charlotte called for a waitress and apologised.

Edna offered to pay for her clumsiness. Charlotte was having none of it.