Wartime Brides (36 page)

Christmas festivities for the Hennessey-Whites began with a day out. Charlotte took Janet and Geoffrey to the same teashop she’d gone to with Edna up on Redcliffe Hill. The children, thankfully, had seemed to accept David’s absence and the reason she’d given for it.

At the teashop the waitresses were still offering digestives to compensate for the ongoing sugar rationing. In addition to the brass bits and pieces that festooned the wall, there was an Office of Information poster which suggested – though ordered might be a better word – that bread should only be asked for if you couldn’t possibly do without it. A war followed by a bad harvest and a lack of dollars. It was certainly hard work being the victor in a modern war!

‘So tell me about school and your plans for university,’ Charlotte asked enthusiastically.

Janet’s attention was fixed on the teaspoon she was presently dangling over her teacup. Charlotte immediately sensed she was going to hear something she didn’t want to hear. Not pregnancy, she prayed, but thought it unlikely. Janet’s beloved Americans had mostly gone home.

‘I’ve decided not to try for university,’ Janet stated defiantly. ‘I haven’t got a hope in hell.’

Charlotte was taken aback. ‘Janet! How can you say
that
! Things are going to change for girls. Just you wait and see. If you work hard …’

‘Working hard has nothing to do with it,’ Janet snapped.

Charlotte pushed her cup of tea towards the centre of the table and said more severely than she had intended, ‘Then I suggest you explain yourself!’

Janet sighed and slouched in her chair. Charlotte resisted the impulse to tell her to sit up straight in public.

‘I simply do not see the point,’ Janet said airily.

‘Your future depends on your studying as hard as you can,’ said Charlotte.

Janet turned her big brown eyes onto her mother’s face. ‘What future, mother? Peace has been declared but everyone’s still arguing. And it’s all to do with the bomb. What chance will I have when the Third World War starts?’

Charlotte searched for something to say. ‘I simply refuse to think such a thing will ever happen.’ It sounded lame. What right had she to make such a statement? In her heart of hearts she knew that Janet was making a valid point. Since the Americans had dropped the atomic bomb on Japan, talk about another world war had accelerated. But it won’t happen, she thought to herself, then looked across at her daughter and son. At least, she hoped not.

‘No one thought this war would happen,’ said Janet.

‘Now, Janet,’ Charlotte said adopting a brightness she certainly didn’t feel, ‘you mustn’t be a pessimist. Perhaps you’d like to tell me what you do intend to do with your life.’

Janet’s eyes gleamed. ‘Enjoy myself and perhaps get married while I still can.’

Charlotte frowned. Was her daughter talking about sex? She caught herself blushing at the same time as feeling concern. Was this a glimpse of the future? Goodness, she saw enough marriages contracted in haste. She found herself speaking as though to one of the innumerable couples she saw in her work. ‘One does need to consider the possibility of children coming along. One does have responsibilities.’

‘And precautions,’ responded Janet in a low, furtive voice.

Charlotte turned away, embarrassed that she was blushing again. It was difficult to accept that Janet was growing into a woman. In an effort to hide her confusion, she turned to Geoffrey. ‘So how are things at school, Geoffrey?’

At that moment the waitress came over to refill their cups. ‘Milk? Sugar?’

Charlotte nodded, her eyes fixed on her son who, up until now, appeared disinterested in what she and his sister had been talking about.

He began tapping his spoon against the side of his cup. ‘All right,’ he muttered. Yet she could see he was not all right. Since arriving home yesterday afternoon he had mooched around the house with his head down and his usually lively chatter oddly absent.

Growing children! Charlotte sighed. What could she do with them? And then there was David. It hurt to think of him, not because of what he’d done, but because of what
he’d
gone through. She felt guilty for not having read the signs correctly; regretful that she hadn’t had the courage to ask him about the appalling things he’d seen.

Dispirited, but still determined that the run-up to Christmas would be as happy as possible, she left the teashop, the children tagging along behind her. The pavement was two steps higher than the road where the car was parked.

Having unlocked the passenger door for Janet and Geoffrey, Charlotte started round to the driver’s side when a woman guiding a pushchair carefully amongst a host of trousered and stockinged legs caught her eye.

‘Edna!’

Edna stopped and looked down. Charlotte bounded up the steps.

She peered in at Carol, pleased to see that being parted from her mother had done her no harm at all.

‘So when is Polly coming out of hospital?’ she asked.

‘She already is,’ answered Edna. ‘But she’s doing the matinee today so she asked me to look after Carol.’

Charlotte forgot everything else when she was making a fuss of a child, which is why she said what she then said. ‘Golly, Edna. You are most certainly going to miss her when she’s gone. It must almost be like having your own.’

The moment it was out she could have bitten off her tongue. Edna looked crestfallen.

‘Oh Edna, I am really so sorry!’

She saw the sadness in the young woman’s eyes and knew immediately that, despite looking after Carol, Edna
still
hankered after the child her mother had forced her to give away.

It was a terrible wrench for Edna to give Carol back to Polly, but Aunty Meg was back and Billy was home. Despite his needing some assistance from crutches, Edna fully expected to see Billy back on the van, flogging anything he could get his hands on. Until then someone had to go and see Mr Lewis, the toyshop manager, about sorting out some proper contracts – with deposits up front – for next year. Billy had sent a message that he was too ill to go. His legs were playing him up, and he suggested Edna go on their behalf.

‘We’ve got to see the bloke,’ said Colin. He held out his hands helplessly. ‘Or rather you will. Shops ain’t made for wheelchairs.’

‘But Mr Lewis will be expecting a man,’ said Edna, awash with nervousness at occupying the important position she’d been suddenly thrust into.

Colin took hold of her hand. ‘Go on! You can do it.’

Edna was not the sort who said no. She preferred to please people. There were fewer arguments that way. But she wished Billy were around to do the job. The sooner he was mobile again the better.

Colin had another hospital appointment just before the meeting with Mr Lewis and Edna had no option but to go along.

The waiting room seemed to be full of men who, like Colin, were missing limbs or suffering severe disfigurement.

She sat nervously, not even bothering to take one of the tired copies of
Picture Post
or
Good Housekeeping
that lay in untidy piles on the table. She noticed Colin didn’t either. He seemed absorbed in what everyone else was doing, especially those that were walking with crutches. Jealousy, she thought, and wished that things could be different.

‘Colin Smith!’

The abruptness with which his name was called out made Edna jump.

Her throat was dry with apprehension. The words came out in a nervous rush.

‘Let me come in with you.’

‘It’s my body. My business.’

He turned away abruptly. She never saw the look in his eyes and didn’t need to. He had to be hiding something really awful, something else to worry about.

‘You’d tell me if you were ill, wouldn’t you,’ she asked, hopeful at getting the truth but so prejudiced by her fears that she was certain he would be lying.

‘I’m all right,’ he answered impatiently and brushed her aside as the nurse wheeled him off down the dull cream corridor.

Edna watched him go in, still afraid for his health but also hopelessly ashamed that there was another problem weighing her down. Regardless of anything else, she was going with Charlotte to the orphanage on Saturday. She had been happy enough looking after Polly’s child, but all the time Carol had been in her care she had secretly fretted about whether Sherman had gone off to his new parents,
or
whether they’d perhaps brought him back – a bit like people did a wireless set gone wrong or a dress that they’d suddenly realised was not quite their colour. The latter seemed the most sadly apt.

But her life was full at present. Colin’s home-based business was going from strength to strength. Few toys were coming in from the United States because of exchange controls and a severe lack of dollars, and people were prejudiced against German toys. It was they, Colin and she, who had gained.

Again, just like before, it was an hour before Colin re-emerged from his appointment.

‘Have you got anything to tell me?’ she asked as she wheeled him away from the hospital towards Gloucester Road, a busy thoroughfare which still had some shops standing.

‘He says I’m as well as can be expected – for a man with no legs.’

Again Edna felt cold fear clutch at her heart. It was likely that she was shortly to lose Sherman. Surely she couldn’t lose Colin as well? And if he was ill, then there was no way she could tell him about Sherman.

Her heart was racing at the other problems she had to face. Mr Lewis, the man who wanted to buy so many of their toys. She fell into silence.

‘His name’s
Lewis
not
Lion
,’ Colin said, as if reading her thoughts. ‘He won’t eat you.’

Edna’s sigh shook her from head to toe. ‘I know,’ she said, attempting to sound confident.

Of course, Colin couldn’t come with her to see the man.
Apparently
his office was situated at the top of three flights of stairs. Other arrangements had been necessary.

‘Are you sure your friend Charlotte doesn’t mind?’ Colin asked as they made their way towards the local offices of the Marriage Guidance Council.

‘She said it’s all right to stay there until I get back. Anyway, she’s got a meeting, so you’ll have her office to yourself. You could work on that new toy design while you’re there.’

‘That was my intention,’ said Colin and patted the wedge of papers he had tucked under his coat. ‘Now you know what to say to Mr Lewis, don’t you?’ he asked her.

‘Yes.’

After dinner last evening Colin had sat her down and drummed into her head exactly what he expected from the new contracts. ‘Nine shillings and eleven pence and not a penny less for the scooter. He’s got to bear in mind I’ve got wheels to buy and no doubt he’ll be selling them out for nineteen shillings and eleven. Have you got that?’

‘Nine shillings and eleven pence. Yes. I’ve got it.’

Like a carousel that never stops, the words whirled round in her head. By breakfast time she knew them off by heart. I have to be strong, she said to herself. I mustn’t come over all queer and get it all wrong. It was too important, Colin – and Billy – were depending on her.

Charlotte was dressed in a royal blue woollen dress with a bow at the neck. Her hair was wound over a blue velvet ribbon, the ends forming another bow at the nape of her neck. She welcomed them profusely and offered them tea or coffee.

She also apologised. ‘I’m sorry I can’t serve it to you myself, but I have a meeting to attend.’ She looked so calm, so self assured, that Edna almost felt like asking her if she’d like to go along and see Mr Lewis while she stayed behind and made the tea.

‘My secretary will get it for you,’ Charlotte said to Colin as she grabbed a bundle of files from her desk and her handbag from the right-hand drawer, which promptly jammed.

‘Let me,’ said Colin, always the helpful one.

‘No!’

Charlotte slammed the files she was carrying down on the desk. ‘I can manage.’

Colin swiftly retrieved his hand.

‘It always sticks like that,’ said Charlotte apologetically. She smiled in an embarrassing way. ‘Sorry for biting your head off, Colin. It’s just that I’m used to it.’ She indicated the cabinets and other things in her office. ‘Most of it should have been chopped up years ago, I’m afraid. But there you are. We haven’t got money to burn.’

A middle-aged woman with a severe hairstyle and hornrimmed spectacles chose that moment to enter.

‘Oh Miss Anstice. Could you possibly arrange tea for my guests?’

‘Not for me,’ Edna said. ‘I’ve got to see Mr Lewis. You remember? I told you?’

‘Just me for tea,’ said Colin jovially. Miss Anstice managed a smile.

Charlotte walked Edna back to the front door.

‘I do hope Colin doesn’t think me rude dashing off to this meeting like this,’ said Charlotte.

‘Of course not,’ Edna almost laughed. As if Charlotte could ever appear rude!

Charlotte’s face became serious. ‘You’re very brave, you know.’

Edna looked at her in surprise. Brave was not a word she would use to describe herself. ‘I don’t think …’ she began.

Charlotte patted her hand. ‘You’ve been through a lot. It takes courage to do what you’ve done. Everything will be for the best, just you wait and see. And one day you and Colin will have your own children.’

Without knowing it, Charlotte had imbued Edna with the courage to deal with Mr Lewis. She’d experienced many things during the last few years, and during the last few months she had experienced even more. After facing the trauma of marrying Colin and then giving her child away without him knowing, why should negotiating the terms written out on a piece of paper worry her? Nothing had ever been as hard to do as signing away her own child.

Mr Lewis was a large man who filled his leather office chair to full capacity. A free sample of one of Colin’s scooters, painted bright blue, sat in one corner. There were filing cabinets and a large desk, all of pre-war if not pre-twentieth century vintage, but in much better condition than the furniture in Charlotte’s office.

‘Now,’ he said, leaning forward and clasping his chubby hands together on top of a burgundy-edged
blotter
. ‘I am prepared to offer you nine shillings and six pence per scooter …’