Wartime Brides (21 page)

A row had erupted and Meg had got upset. Better to stay away for a while, she’d decided, until things calmed down. Not that she needed much persuading. York Street was a place she wanted to leave behind. Clifton was where she wanted to be, and if no man other than David was available then so be it.

So far she had been the perfect tease – just so far and no further. Yet at times his dark looks and deep voice had scared her. She could sense his anger and wondered how far she could go before he refused to take no for an answer. At those times when he didn’t scare her, she felt guilty about playing fast and loose with another woman’s husband, but she reminded herself of Aaron and felt a little better.

She acted now both as his part-time receptionist and nursing assistant, though God knows she had no experience of either. But she knew how to make the patients, especially the men, feel at ease. It was a natural flair.

As she lay in the yellow-striped room with the fresh and airy smell, she could almost forget where she’d come from. The only thing she couldn’t really forget was Carol. It wouldn’t be long before Meg was sending her a note to come and visit her child. She sighed and wished she’d planned her life differently, then went out and caught the bus.

Mr Long the greengrocer was still in the street, his
horse-drawn
cart slap-bang in the middle of the road. York Street was his last stop of the day. There, he usually shifted what was left of the vegetables for knock-down prices because he was in a hurry to get home and not have too much unloading to do when he got there. His old horse certainly looked ready for bed. It hung its head, its eyes drooping as a troop of fruit flies buzzed busily around its ears.

Meg was standing with the other women, her apron spread out in front of her as Mr Long took his scoop off the scales and rolled the potatoes into it.

Polly shouted a greeting to her and smiled.

Her aunt looked straight at her then, without saying a word, she went tight-lipped into the house.

Polly took a deep breath. Meg was not pleased with her. She recognised the signs. Adapting to another life had been so easy!

Polly wrinkled her nose as she entered the passageway that led out back to the living room and the scullery that, according to Meg’s description, wasn’t big enough to swing a cat in.

When it had been only her and her aunt in the house, the place had never smelled of old cabbage and dirty washing. Since Hetty and her brood had moved in, this had changed.

Polly could see that things had got worse. Lines of wet washing were festooned across the kitchen. Steam was rising out of the old copper that sat in the corner. Dishes were piled in the sink and two pans were boiling away on the stove smelling of onions and pork cuttings.

Aunty Meg’s sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Her arms were red and sweat glistened on her face. Despite looking utterly exhausted she stood glaring at Polly as though something weighed heavily on her mind. Through the open door, Polly could see her daughter’s pram moving as she kicked her legs and arms. She promised herself she’d go out and see her in a minute.

‘Where’s Hetty?’ she asked.

‘She’s upstairs lying down. She’s not feeling well,’ answered Meg.

Polly was astounded. ‘And left you to do everything? Well, that’s a damned nerve!’

Meg rounded on her, face reddening, arms waving. ‘Nerve is it! And what about your nerve! When was the last time you saw that child of yours? She’s growing up! She needs her mother. Why haven’t you been home?’

‘I’ve been working!’ She said it sharply, quickly. If she allowed herself to feel guilty or ashamed she might cease to continue on the path she’d planned.

‘I can see that,’ said Meg looking her up and down. ‘New coat and shoes is it? And where did you get that hat?’

‘Cast offs! Just cast offs!’ It wasn’t quite true. David had given her money. He’d actually thrown five-pound notes across the desk at her and told her that he had no use for money, and that if the government had their way he’d soon have no money at all.

He’d frightened her, shouted at her to take it, his eyes blazing. She’d done as he’d asked, fearful that to disobey might only increase his anger.

Before coming here she’d felt good, but Meg was a reminder that she was far from perfect. She flounced out of the back door and made for Carol’s pram. If she didn’t already know it, she might not have believed that this was her baby. She was much bigger, sitting up and chewing on a crust of dry bread. Had it really been that long since she’d seen her?

‘Carol?’ She blinked away her tears as the child looked up at her and smiled – as she might at a stranger who she quite liked the look of.

She unfastened the leather harness that held Carol in her pram and lifted her out. She was wet and she took her inside to change her. A small voice in her head told her that it was the first time she’d done such a mundane thing for a very long time.

Polly heard the soft flap, flap of Meg’s slippers as her aunt came into the living room. She was sitting on the settee, with Carol lying flat kicking her legs. She felt Meg’s eyes boring into the back of her head.

Meg said exactly the words she was dreading. ‘I can’t go on looking after her for much longer, Polly. You’re going to have to make other arrangements.’

‘I can pay you more,’ Polly offered and wished that David was her husband. Then working and having Meg to look after Carol wouldn’t be a problem. But David was married. So far she hadn’t given in to him. But she knew she had to if she had any chance of taking him from Charlotte. She swallowed the guilt and again reminded herself, as she had many times before, that it was Charlotte’s fault Aaron was no longer around.

Meg was not going to let it drop. ‘It ain’t no use to the child. It’s her mother she wants and a proper home.’

Carol was sitting up now playing with the brass clasp on Polly’s patent handbag. Polly touched her daughter’s cheek. ‘I will get you a proper home, Carol. I promise I will.’ She turned round to face her aunt. Meg was frowning and eyeing her suspiciously.

‘I can’t have her with me at the moment, Aunty Meg, what with the job and all that. But I’ll give you a bit extra until I can sort things out. I’ll get me and Carol a better home and be out of your hair before long. I promise.’

As she got to her feet and smoothed her coat, Polly saw a questioning look in her aunt’s eyes and immediately guessed what she was thinking.

‘It’s a proper job, Aunty Meg, and my employer’s a very nice man.’

Meg picked Carol up from the settee, handed Polly her bag and gave her a knowing look. ‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’

‘Not finished yet?’ said Colin’s mother to Edna, who was turning the sleeve of her wedding dress beneath the foot of the sewing machine.

‘I’m frightened of making mistakes,’ Edna explained. Her future mother-in-law nodded understandingly and left the room.

Edna’s own mother had not been half so understanding. She’d stated in no uncertain terms that she was insulted by her daughter’s refusal to wear her own wedding dress. When Edna had explained about the new material Charlotte
had
given her and Mrs Smith’s offer of her sewing machine, she was doubly annoyed.

‘What’s wrong with my sewing machine? Not good enough either?’

Eventually she’d simmered down. Her main aim was still to ensure that Edna became respectable. She would be married and unassailable by man or gossip.

As Edna fed the material beneath the machine, her thoughts kept returning to the orphanage.

Sherman. His name lay softly on her mind. All through the night his eyes looked up at her, begging her to cuddle him to her breast. His frantic cry filled her worst nightmares.

Some people at work had commented that she wasn’t as happy as a forthcoming bride should be. But how could she tell them why, and what good would it do anyone if she did. Colin would not want to marry her and she would have no security to offer her son, no home, no income. All she could hope for was to marry Colin, help Charlotte with her sewing circle and, hopefully, see her baby now and again when she went to deliver the finished clothes to the orphanage. But in time someone might adopt him and the prospect filled her with fear.

Groper Gordon posed another problem. She had not gone along to his office after work as requested. If she lost her job now things would be really hard for her and Colin. And yet she could not possibly contemplate ‘being nice’ to the balding office manager in return for keeping it. All the same she badly wanted to see her son again. Perhaps Charlotte could help.

The following day she left the canteen and was back in the typing pool just before two. No one else had rushed to get back – except Groper Gordon.

‘I want to see you, Miss Burbage,’ he called across to her.

Her stomach turned to lead as she got up from her chair. He stood close to the door as she entered the office. His arm swept around her and she heard the unmistakable click of a key being turned.

Edna pressed herself against the door, her hand frantically searching for the key.

He stood close up against her. She couldn’t move. Then he smiled and brought out the key, dangling it in front of her eyes, taunting her with the closeness of it and with his power to withhold it from her.

‘Now, there’s a naughty girl. You didn’t come along and see me last night, did you? And just for that I’m not going to give you the key.’

‘Please,’ she said, glancing swiftly over her shoulder, praying someone might pass. ‘Everyone will be back from lunch soon.’

‘They will indeed, young lady, but they know better than to come in here especially when my door’s locked. They know I’m busy when my door’s locked.’

Edna knew he spoke the truth. Whispers of what he did behind the locked door circulated around the typing pool.

‘Mr Gordon. Please let me go.’

His face came close to hers. She turned her head to avoid the smell of stale tobacco on his breath.

‘You’ll have to show me you’re really, really sorry about not coming along to see me. I mean it. Really, really sorry.’

His mouth was like warm tripe on hers. The hand that held the key groped for her breast.

This must not happen!

She would not give in! She would not let him take advantage of her no matter how important her job was.

As she pummelled his shoulders with her fists, she brought up her knee. Groper doubled in agony. The key fell on the floor.

With fumbling hands she opened the door, then, trembling with emotion, she ran to her desk, gathered her things and, without stopping to punch her card into the time clock, bolted from the building.

Myriad thoughts whirled round her brain as she fled towards East Street and the bus stop. All she wanted was to get away, but not home. She needed to talk things through with someone. She needed to tell them about Sherman and her fears about both his and her own future. The only person who had willingly listened to her problems was Charlotte.

The bus stop was near the Clifton Suspension Bridge and it was only a short walk from there to Royal York Crescent. When she saw the imposing height and opulence of the Hennessey-White residence, she paused on the black and white tiled step and bit at her knuckles. Did she dare to knock just like a visitor of Charlotte’s own social standing?

Taking a deep breath she tucked her red and gold
patterned
scarf into her pocket and patted the lapels of her jacket. Somehow the image struck her as smarter.

A middle-aged woman with a pock-marked face and an easy smile answered the door.

Edna gathered up all her courage. ‘Is Mrs Hennessey-White in?’

The woman shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. You might try at the doctor’s consulting rooms though. She might just have popped in on her way back from shopping.’

Edna thanked her and asked directions.

It was a short walk from Royal York Crescent to Clifton Park. Again she had to ring a doorbell before gaining entry; nothing like the doctor I go to, she thought.

This time it was Polly who answered and her appearance almost took Edna’s breath away. She looked smarter than she’d ever looked before and more refined, almost a lady.

‘Gosh, Edna,’ said Polly in a low voice, smiling as she leaned close to Edna’s ear. ‘What are you doing here? Not in the club are you?’

Edna felt herself blushing. ‘I wanted …’ She couldn’t say any more. The events of the past few weeks had finally caught up with her. Raising her hand to her head, she slowly closed her eyes and fell forward into Polly’s arms.

When she came to she was lying on a couch, her coat and hat to one side, the buttons of her blouse loose over her breast. David was examining her.

‘You fainted,’ he said as he smiled down at her.

Polly came to his side carrying a glass of water. ‘Here, drink this.’

Edna did as she was told.

‘Now,’ said Polly before the doctor could ask her anything. ‘What did you want Charlotte for?’

David raised the back of the couch just as Edna began to cry.

‘Nothing can be that bad,’ he said showing sudden signs of impatience.

‘It can be for working girls,’ said Polly daring to push him roughly to one side. Her action earned her an angry look. She chose to ignore it. She could handle him.

Something inside warned Edna not to mention the baby clothes. If she did that she might tell them about Sherman and she wasn’t sure Polly was entirely trustworthy. Instead she swore them to secrecy between her sobs and explained only about her boss and what he wanted her to do in exchange for not sacking her once she was married. ‘I have to stop him, or make sure I can get another job. I thought Charlotte could help me,’ she explained.

David straightened and stood back to leave Polly to it. With cool fingers she brushed Edna’s hair back from her face. ‘What a rat! I’ve got a good mind to go down there and give him hell myself.’

David lay his hand on Polly’s shoulder and pushed her firmly to one side. ‘No need to, my dear. I think I might be able to help. I do know some of the management there. Leave it to me, will you?’

‘Thank you.’ Edna blinked. It struck her that David and Polly were far friendlier than she could ever be with her boss, Mr Gordon. Not that she’d want him to be that familiar with her.