Read Wartime Brides Online

Authors: Lizzie Lane

Tags: #Bristol, #Chick-Lit, #Fiction, #Marriage, #Relationships, #Romance, #Sagas, #Women's Fiction

Wartime Brides (26 page)

BOOK: Wartime Brides
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Edna remembered her mother mentioning a partner with whom she played whist named Mrs Grey. But the parcels themselves were no longer important. All that counted was her son. ‘Does he have to be adopted?’ she asked.

The homely woman wearing the dark blue uniform and the crisp white apron came round and put her arm around her shoulder. ‘That, my dear, is up to you. Is there any chance of you having him at home?’

‘I’ve just got married.’

‘And your husband doesn’t know about him.’

Edna blew into her handkerchief and fixed her gaze on the floor.

He was awake when she went to see him.

‘He’s only just woken up,’ said Sister Ruth. ‘He must have known you were coming.’

Edna nodded through her tears and looked down at him. ‘Sherman,’ she said, softly reaching down and holding the downy soft hand in hers. ‘I’m not very brave, and whatever happens you must believe it’s for the best. Honestly it is.’

Although she tried to appear composed when she got back to Billy’s old black van, he immediately saw her tearstained face. ‘What’s the matter? Someone upset you?’

‘It’s all those babies,’ sniffed Edna. ‘All alone in the world and no one to care.’

Embarrassed by sentiment even though he was pretty much that way himself, Billy drove silently. When he did speak it was merely to remark on the bomb damage or to
enthuse
about what the city would look like in the future. But for the present it vaguely resembled the surface of another planet, the sort he’d seen pre-war in a film like
Flash Gordon
.

While he drove, Edna took the opportunity to tidy her face. ‘You won’t tell Colin I was upset, will you?’ she asked in a small voice.

Billy shook his head. ‘Not if you don’t want me to. Any time you want a lift, just say the word. You know where to find me. Flogging from the back of the van, Bedminster first three days of the week, end of the week and weekends I’m down in the Centre.’

She thanked him and got out of the van. ‘Would you like to come in for tea?’

Billy eased himself out of his seat and still looked neat and tidy despite having been driving a while. ‘Better come in and explain I gave you a lift,’ he said with a grin. ‘Wouldn’t want old Colin thinking we were up to something, would we!’

Edna laughed. ‘Colin isn’t like that.’ They went inside the house.

Polly liked watching David drive. There was something sensual about the way his finely manicured hands handled the wheel and his thighs moved as he pressed the pedals. The scarf that Edna had left behind at the consulting rooms lay folded neatly on her lap but slid to the floor. ‘You don’t think she came back for it and saw us, do you? Only I thought I heard something?’

David shrugged. ‘What could she say even if she did?
If
she does betray us, I can make things pretty difficult for her. She wouldn’t want to lose her job. I think, from what I’ve seen of her, she is more sensible than that.’

His attitude made her feel uncomfortable. She told herself that all posh blokes were like that, but deep down she was questioning whether she really wanted to be with him. Aaron was someone she’d fallen in love with. There’d been strong physical attractions with the men she’d known before him including the father of her child. She felt none towards David. And then of course there was Billy to consider. Whether she cared to show it or not, she liked him. Although she was having trouble admitting it to herself, the idea of taking revenge on Charlotte by taking David was not as attractive as it had been. Sometime soon she would call a halt to the whole ugly situation.

‘This turning,’ said Polly a few yards before Kent Street.

He turned the wheel.

‘And this house.’

He stopped the car outside Edna’s house in Kent Street. She had the urge to remark how small the house was, but who was she to make comment? A cobbled street of flat-fronted houses just off Midland Road was her real home, full of children and relatives she wished she didn’t have.

She got out first and knocked firmly on the door. David followed. She was sure a few net curtains twitched as they stood there. In York Street she would have pulled faces and made rude signs for their benefit. But she was here
with
David and guessed that neighbours were admiring the car and the posh couple that had stepped out of it.

Polly smiled up at David and adjusted his tie. ‘It’s not straight,’ she said.

‘I’m not a child!’ he said testily, and smacked at her hands.

Edna’s mouth dropped when she opened the door. The sound of a machine, the smell of shaved wood and flying sawdust came out to meet them.

‘Here’s your scarf,’ said Polly.

Edna coloured up.

She knows, thought Polly. She was confident of Edna’s silence. Edna needed her job.

Cocky as ever, Polly placed her hands on her hips and waited for an invite. Edna continued to stand there with her mouth open so Polly said it for her. ‘Well, are you going to leave us waiting on the doorstep? A cup of tea would be nice, Edna.’

Colin was sat at a lathe, an oddly shaped piece of wood in his hands. He stopped, looked up as they entered and swung his chair round to face them.

‘Oh! We’ve got visitors.’

‘You remember Polly!’ said Edna. ‘She works for Doctor Hennessey-White – David – Charlotte’s husband.’

Polly winced at Edna reminding her that David and the lifestyle he represented belonged to Charlotte.

‘I’ll make tea,’ blurted Edna.

Colin blinked and, for a moment, Polly was convinced that he knew everything, was going to shout it out and show them the door. She’d forgotten how amiable he
could
be. ‘You girls do that. I’ll explain the ins and outs of toy making to the …’ he paused, ‘doctor here.’

‘I’ll help,’ said Polly and threw Colin an angry look. He’d been about to say ‘the good doctor’ as people did, but had scowled and done otherwise.

Rather than suffer an uncomfortable atmosphere, she followed Edna into the kitchen. Old-fashioned as it was, its cosy warmth surprised her. The range was black and ugly, but its glowing coals seemed to give it life. An old dresser had been painted cream and was now festooned with crockery, mostly blue and cream-striped Cornish. The gaps were filled with old willow patterned meat platters.

Bloody hell, they must have belonged to Queen Victoria. I’d put them in the dustbin, thought Polly to herself, but didn’t remark. Instead she turned to Edna and smiled cordially.

She looked Edna up and down as she bustled round her kitchen, a slim figure in a green woollen dress that she must have had for years. With an air of self-satisfaction she adjusted her collar and tightened her belt and said, ‘You certainly are a capable little housewife.’

‘I do my best. We haven’t got much but it suits us fine. We haven’t even used the rooms upstairs, what with Colin.’

Polly pretended not to notice that she was referring to the fact that Colin couldn’t get upstairs unaided or, at least, not without difficulty.

‘Well, that could work out OK. How many rooms are up there?’

‘Two.’

‘Two children at least then! Four if you double them up. Six if you triple! You look just the sort to suit babies. Ever had one, have you?’

A teacup smashed to the floor. Edna’s face had been pink enough before. Now it was a much deeper colour. ‘No!’ she growled as she reached for a handle of the dresser cupboard.

I’ve hit a raw nerve, thought Polly, and although she would never ask outright, she wondered exactly how they managed in bed. She shivered the thought away. It wasn’t her problem, thank God! Instead she looked down on Edna busily brushing the remains of the cup into the dustpan.

Polly smiled as she beheld the deep blush behind the pale brown hair. No need to worry. Colin must be up to the job if Edna’s blush was anything to go by.

‘Never mind,’ said Polly. ‘You can always adopt.’

She sauntered back into the shop where Colin had temporarily buried his hostility towards David and was enthusing about his toy making, explaining that although it was quiet now, it would be hectic by Christmas.

‘Any bit of wood you come across,’ he was saying. ‘Any at all, I’d be most grateful. And paint. I can always do with paint. Mind you, Billy Hills provides me with a lot of stuff. Sells a few toys for me too an’ all. You do know him, don’t you? Oh, yes. Of course you do. You met him at our wedding. He visits here a fair lot.’

Edna came in and put a brown Bakelite tray of four cups and a plate of digestive biscuits down on the corner of a workbench.

David looked to Polly. ‘Have I met him?’

‘Yes,’ said Polly quickly drinking the tea. ‘I was with him at Edna’s wedding.’ She glanced swiftly at her watch. ‘Do you think we’d better go now?’

She ignored David’s look of surprise and headed for the door. The last thing she wanted at this moment was Billy Hills turning up and laying her history bare in front of David. She hadn’t uttered a word about Carol. Kids spoil relationships.

Head down, Edna bustled the tea things away quickly once David and Polly were gone. She didn’t want Colin to see her face or stay around long enough for him to ask her questions about where she had left the scarf and why she had gone there. If she got to the kitchen door quickly enough …

‘Oh no you don’t!’

He’d got quick with the chair. Very quick. His fingers were around her wrist. The tea things rattled on the tray.

‘He said you left the scarf at his place in Clifton. You didn’t tell me you’d been up there. Is there something I should know?’

Despite having just drunk a cup of tea her lips were dry. She licked them but they remained resolutely the same.

It was difficult to look into his face. ‘I was looking for Charlotte. I needed more material to make clothes for the kids at the orphanage. I thought it was the least I could do, seeing as she gave me that stuff for my wedding dress – and that suit she put back for me at the jumble sale.’

Colin loosened his grip on her wrist – not that he held
her
that firmly anyway. He looked at her a little sadly and shook his head. ‘I used to think you were too good to be true. Now I know I was wrong. You are too good, Edna, and I’ll never understand why you married the likes of me.’

The tea tray landed on the floor, the crockery clattering and the teaspoons flying. They were of no importance. Edna threw her arms around his neck. Her eyes were full of tears because she’d suddenly remembered exactly why she’d loved him in the first place. Incapacitated as he was, he still put others first, generous to a fault no matter what. And she couldn’t hurt him. She couldn’t tell him about Sherman. Not yet. Not just yet.

She saw his hand reaching for the scarf and immediately knew he had a question to ask.

‘You love this scarf. What happened to make you leave it behind?’

The truth could not be avoided. Even her silence would speak volumes – and Colin heard.

‘I thought her and David were too friendly. Poor Charlotte,’ he said hugging her as close as the wheelchair would allow.

Just she and the children: Charlotte told herself she was going to enjoy this holiday. Sea air was famous for clearing the head.

But duty came first. Before leaving she attended a Trustee meeting. To leave without doing so would have been irresponsible. As it turned out she was glad she did go. Lady Garribond actually apologised!

‘I’ve never known that before,’ said Matron who had overheard the mumbled words.

‘Perhaps she’s found a few skeletons in her own cupboard,’ Charlotte remarked.

Matron smiled as if she knew something no one else knew. ‘Bear in mind that she was a society belle when old Edward was king and you know what sort of man he was!’

‘I’ve heard rumours,’ Charlotte said. Edward VII had indeed frequented the city to see one or two of his lady friends.

‘It doesn’t hurt to remind the old what it feels like to be young,’ said Matron, as if reading Charlotte’s thoughts.

‘Enjoy your holidays, Mrs Hennessey-White. Forget your duties and have a nice time,’ Matron called, her words echoing off the glossy coldness of the corridor.

‘Thank you.’ Duties were the last thing on her mind.

What was it Matron had said about reminding the old how it feels to be young? And being happy? What about being happy? That’s how Josef made her feel. She reminded herself that she was a married woman. Divorce was on the increase but it wasn’t an option she wished to contemplate.

‘No!’ she muttered to herself. ‘I have to try!’

The cool darkness of the entrance hall framed the view through the windows where her car sat baking in the bright sunshine. By the time she reached the door she was convinced that she could leave without wandering the grounds like a lovesick fool.

The sun was hot, the sky bright. She squinted and raised a white-gloved hand to shield her eyes. Once she was in her car the sound of the engine and the wheels turning on gravel would drown out her emotions. Once she was in the car she would be safe.

But there he was, leaning against it just like she’d seen him do before. And her heart beat faster.

If I rush past and don’t look into his face …

There is nothing he can do to make me stay and talk to him, she told herself as she hurried forward.

‘I’ve come to say goodbye.’

She stopped in her tracks and looked into his face. Those blue eyes, the kind mouth that smiled so casually and with such charm.

‘Where are you going?’ Her breath felt tight in her chest.

He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets – such a casual gesture, completely devoid of military pretension. ‘Mr Partridge has located an organisation in Germany that places people wanting to work with charity organisations.’

‘You specifically asked him for that?’ It surprised her that he’d found something suitable so quickly.

He nodded just once and a tight slightly sad smile came to his lips. ‘I want to do something towards rebuilding my country. Do you know how many orphans there are in Europe, in Germany alone?’

She shook her head. ‘I dread to think.’

‘Millions!’

She who had for so long been involved in charity work
was
suitably awe struck. Words stuck in her throat. ‘When?’ she whispered.

BOOK: Wartime Brides
10.7Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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