Wartime Brides (27 page)

‘One week. The eleventh.’

‘That’s halfway through our holiday. I’m going to Devon,’ she blurted. ‘The children are home from school’

He placed his hands on her bare arms. His touch was warm and so unbelievably pleasant. A cool breeze played with the hem of her blue striped dress – so clean, so pristine. But she wasn’t clean, she wasn’t pure! She had sinned. But the straight and narrow was turning out to be a lonely road. Was it really so wrong to feel like she did with Josef? And could she resist sin? Or was it love?

His voice was irresistible. ‘You will be at the station to see me off? One fifteen. My train leaves at one fifteen.’

‘I will,’ she said, resolute that somehow she would indeed make her way back to Bristol and say goodbye to him on the same station she had welcomed her husband home from the war.

Chapter Fifteen

TOOT! TOOT!

Polly nearly jumped out of her skin. ‘Very funny!’ she said, hands on hips as Billy Hills’ battered black van pulled in beside her.

Billy grinned. ‘Wanna lift?’

‘Again? Everywhere I go you seem to be going my way,’ she said, standing as seductively as she knew how. Much as she liked to belittle him in public, she had to admit he was kind – and besotted, which automatically attracted her to him. She’d always liked men to be besotted with her. It made her feel like a film star.

‘How’s yer kid?’ he asked, as she got in.

‘OK.’

She took her time, careful not to snag her stockings on the boxes of cheap china and bric-a-brac stored on the floor in front of the seat.

That was something different about Billy too. He didn’t mind about Carol. In fact every time she saw him he made
a
point of asking how she was. Most men would run a mile.

‘Off to the doctor’s, are you? Odd thing to do on a Sunday night.’

She tried not to look guilty at his question. ‘Mrs Grey’s not well. I’m doing the cooking while she’s away.’ Actually, she was worried. Mrs Grey being ill was very inconvenient. Charlotte was away on holiday with the children and, to put it mildly, she was afraid of being alone in the house with David. But she’d braced herself to do it. This was an opportunity to tell David that she had changed her mind about getting involved with him. Once that little problem was out of the way she was free to dally with whom she liked and, at present, she liked Billy.

There was a silence. She knew instinctively that Billy had been about to mention his need for a housekeeper again. Obviously he’d decided not to risk being told to sod off. Well, silence was all right with her. She had things to think about. Meg was getting on her back, keeping on about Carol needing a better home. Well, she was doing her best.

Billy spoke and broke into her thoughts. ‘Beginning to look a bit tidier.’

They were crossing what used to be the Tramway Centre. Polly looked out at what was left of the old tram lines, now twisted bits of metal glowing softly red in what was left of the setting sun. Sunday silence lay over the scene like the curtain in the picture house, waiting to go up on the activity of clearing the roads and getting things moving again – really moving.

‘Couldn’t look any worse,’ she said.

They drove up Park Street, where bomb damage had left gaps like broken teeth between buildings. The smell of old cinders and dust lay heavy on the evening air.

‘Buses get up here easier than trams,’ said Billy trying his best to provoke some response from her.

‘Do they?’ she said. A car would be better. Preferably chauffeur driven. That would be better. She sighed heavily and rested her head against the side of the van. She pretended to look at the damage and noticed the signs saying KEEP CLEAR – DEMOLITION IN PROGRESS. Just like our lives, she thought. Demolish the old and build up the new. If she didn’t do something about David she could achieve just that. Only it would be Charlotte’s life she’d be demolishing and goodness knows what would become of her own. She was sure that Edna had seen them and it embarrassed her. She was desperate to live it down and, besides, she wanted to leave the door open for Billy. Although he couldn’t read or write, he had a mind full of ideas for making money. Life with him could be good.

He had given up trying to impress her and was staring at the road ahead. But he caught her looking and gave her a warm smile. She smiled back. She knew when a man wanted her.

Grand Victorian houses, some six storeys high, threw their shadows over the road ahead of them as the sun sank lower. Polly eyed them thoughtfully. Somehow they didn’t seem quite so attractive today. Their reflections flashed by in the broad-paned glass of the wide bay windows. Lights were being turned on in high-ceilinged
living
rooms, curtains were being drawn. No looking in, no looking out, and suddenly it struck her how isolated the lives of the people that lived here seemed – even David and Charlotte. Was that why Charlotte threw herself into charity work and all that stuff?

They were at the end of Royal York Crescent. ‘Stop here!’ she said suddenly.

‘Are you sure you’ve got to stay overnight?’ Billy asked.

‘Sorry mate, but there you are.’

She waved as she walked away but didn’t look back, partly because she didn’t want Billy to see the guilt in her eyes but mostly to avoid any accusation in his.

Sand, sea and brilliant sunshine. People were swimming again, children were building sandcastles, and others, like Charlotte herself, were sitting in deckchairs outside their gaily-painted beach huts. Granted the paint was looking a bit tired, but once the paint manufacturers went back into brightly painted colours instead of battleship grey or khaki, she’d get someone to brighten it up. She busied herself writing a letter to Aaron. It was difficult to know what to say. She mentioned Polly of course, and also thanked him for his assistance at the camp. After posting it air mail she expected to get a reply back in about three to four weeks.

Geoffrey was launching the boat he’d had for Christmas from off the rocks and into a pool.

Janet was slumped in a deckchair next to Charlotte, her face a picture of adolescent boredom.

Charlotte took off her sunglasses and squinted at the rock
pools
where some other boys had joined Geoffrey, pushing the boat from one end of the pond to the other. He seemed happy enough and she smiled. She turned to her daughter and frowned. Janet was obviously far from happy.

‘Why don’t you go for a swim?’ she said.

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Then why did you bother to put your swimming costume on, darling?’

‘To air my body.’

Charlotte frowned more deeply. The cheeky comment called for a reprimand yet, somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Childish rebukes didn’t seem to suit her any more. Charlotte eyed her speculatively. Janet’s eyes were closed, one arm tossed up behind her head. She was no longer a child. The light woollen swimsuit her daughter wore clung to curves Charlotte was sure were not there before last term.

‘Then let’s talk,’ said Charlotte. ‘You know your father is considering letting you stay at home and go back to your old school.’

Janet turned round to face her and opened her eyes. ‘Mother, how could you be such a fool! Of course he’s not! If you hadn’t told him I ran away that day …’

Charlotte’s jaw dropped. ‘I never told him any such thing! And he’s never mentioned that he knew …’

‘Well, he mentioned it to me,’ Janet said bitterly, before turning on her side so that Charlotte was left looking at her back.

Charlotte racked her brains. Mrs Grey wouldn’t tell. So who else?

The answer came swiftly. Polly! Polly had seen Janet there.

She reached for her skirt and blouse. ‘I’m off to the Post Office. I won’t be long.’

Gripping the letter in her hand she made her way off the beach. The sooner Aaron confirmed her story the sooner there would be a truce between her and Polly.

‘There you are,’ said Billy.

Colin took the crisp notes Billy handed him.

‘Twelve pounds, fifteen shillings and sixpence. Not bad for a month’s work, is it?’ Billy said.

Colin beamed. ‘Not bad on top of my disablement.’ He looked up at Edna and grabbed her hand. ‘Keep us going, girl. Won’t need your wages before long.’

Edna smiled weakly. ‘I’ll keep going as long as I need to. Once you’re making millions I’ll give it all up.’

They all laughed. No one there could guess that behind her smile Edna’s heart was aching. Sherman needed her. She wanted to go to him again but the length of time it took to get a bus out there was unfair on Colin. She didn’t like leaving him alone that long. But if Billy could give her a lift?

Billy stopped laughing. ‘That’s what I want to talk to you about. This bloke approached me down on the Centre and took two of your toys away.’

‘You gave them away?’ asked Colin with raised eyebrows.

‘Sort of, free samples you might say. Anyway, he’s
come
back.’ Billy paused, obviously enjoying the looks of apprehension on their faces.

Edna broke first. ‘What did he say, Billy?’

A wide smile spread slowly across Billy’s face. ‘He said ’e wants one hundred by Christmas.’

Edna clapped her hands. Billy would be calling in even more than he was at present. ‘That’s wonderful! Which one does he want?’

Billy looked from one to the other of them. ‘One hundred of each.’

Edna and Colin’s mouths dropped open as they turned and looked at each other.

‘But we’ve got ten different designs now,’ said Colin. Edna touched his shoulder. She was aware that he didn’t always feel one hundred per cent. A man who’d gone through what he had couldn’t expect to. But it was obvious that Billy had more to say.

‘You need to employ someone,’ said Billy. ‘You can find someone, can’t you?’

Colin said he’d think on it. ‘In the meantime you’d better take that lot,’ he said pointing to six more horses painted in dark pink with yellow dots.

‘I’ll help you,’ said Edna, desperate now to get Billy alone so she could ask him one huge favour.

The back doors of the black van had oval windows, similar to the frames you used to get on Victorian pictures. The headlights had a brass trim. Billy kept them highly polished. It hadn’t occurred to him that such gleaming accessories made the rest of the vehicle look positively decrepit!

‘Billy!’ said Edna breathlessly as he opened the back doors. ‘I wonder if you can do me a favour once a week.’ She glanced furtively towards the front door of the shop. Colin had not come out. It was sunny and something about sunshine made him depressed. Other people walked out in it. He didn’t.

‘Whatever you want, Mrs Smith, I’m only too pleased to oblige,’ said Billy with mock civility.

‘Charlotte – Mrs Hennessey-White – is away on holiday. I promised I’d take some baby clothes and things out to the orphanage but it takes so long on the bus and I don’t like leaving Colin alone for too long. Do you think you could take me out there – if it’s not too much trouble?’

‘None at all! I’d be pleased to do it.’

‘Billy!’ She touched his arm. ‘I don’t want Colin to know. You won’t tell him, will you?’

There was a questioning look in his eyes, almost as though he knew that there was someone at the orphanage she particularly wanted to see. She blinked but kept her courage.

‘I won’t say a word,’ he said.

Edna breathed a sigh of relief.

A plan flashed through Polly’s head as she brushed her hair before the bedroom mirror in the lemon-striped room she had come to call her own. For days she’d been agonising as to the best way of putting a distance between them. Telling him she had a steady man friend was possible but not intense enough. She had to add
something
extra and she’d decided exactly what the extra would be.

The brushing slowed as she got the words clear in her head. She straightened, eyed her reflection and imagined it was David’s. Once she was sure of what she had to say she cleared her throat.

‘David. I have something to tell you. I have a man in my life, a steady man, and I’m having a baby!’

She shrugged. One more shot. As Aunt Meg always reminded her, there was always room for improvement.

She did as before, this time adding a swift lick of her lips. ‘David!’

‘Yes.’

His voice caught her by surprise. She had thought he was still in the bathroom. She turned round, her heart beating so loud it seemed to echo around her brain.

‘I have something to tell you!’ She said it quickly. Well, here goes! Look helpless. Look appealing. She took a deep breath. ‘I think I’m expecting.’

Oh, but it sounded so puny. Expecting! What sort of word was that? She could have said it so much better …

Regrets were irrelevant. All that mattered was that the colour had drained from David’s face. His eyes were like chips of jet-black beads.

Polly got to her feet, put down the brush and clasped her hands in front of her. Her fingers seemed to tangle into a tight knot. Her nerves were tangled too. But she’d started this. It had to be finished.

‘So I’m telling you to keep away from me, to leave me alone.’ Her voice sounded weak, as if it belonged to
someone
smaller, less confident of her looks and abilities.

A nerve flickered beneath his eye as he clenched his jaw. ‘We can get rid of it,’ he said evenly.

Polly stared at him in disbelief. This was not the response she’d hoped for. ‘Get rid of it! How do we get rid of it?’ Her stomach ached. So did the knuckles of her clenched fists.

His smile was laced with sarcasm. ‘I’m a doctor. Remember?’

Now it was her turn to feel the colour draining from her face. The very thought of what he’d just suggested made her feel like fainting away. The idea made her feel sick.

‘I can’t believe you just said that.’ Her voice was small. She sank back onto a stool. But Polly was not one to be weak for long. ‘You’re a monster!’ she shouted as she got to her feet. ‘A killer! And in cold blood too!’

His expression hardened. The glint in his eyes was like neon shining on sheet steel. ‘Don’t talk to me about killing. I’ve seen enough killing in the last few years to last me a dozen lifetimes! I’ve seen men screaming as their legs are blown from under them. I’ve seen them carrying their guts in their arms, hoping that I can do something for them. I’ve carried men from the battlefield as the guns fired around me, and when I’ve laid them down, thinking they’re safe, I’ve found that I’ve been carrying a body that no longer has a head, his blood congealed with the dust and dirt upon my back.’