Women on the Home Front (95 page)

‘He
can
cook actually.' Chris praised his dad while Pearl endorsed the fact her boyfriend was a bit of a chef, by nodding. ‘Got to admit I've been missing him in that respect,' Chris added.

‘Shouldn't have brought that up, Faye,' Rob jokily complained. ‘Chris'll be up the hospital with Stevie's clothes next time he's feeling peckish.'

‘Better feed him up a bit more then. Who's for pudding?' Faye had noticed empty plates all round.

Rob got up and helped his wife clear the table of used crockery and cutlery.

‘Stevie is a dab hand at a bit of catering. When we have our Coronation Day party he can be in charge of the food,' Matilda announced. She did a little drum roll on the table with her fingers. ‘And I've managed to already stash away a nice bit of booze. Old man Turner who works down the docks got me a case of Irish whiskey on the sly.' She put a finger to her lips. ‘Don't go tellin' Faye though, 'cos you know she don't like any duckin' 'n' divin' and stuff wot falls off the back of lorries.'

Chris grinned at his aunt. ‘You should know better at your age,' he ribbed her, glancing at Grace for her reaction to his aunt's confession to doing a bit of receiving. Behind a hand, raised to cover her mock outrage, she was laughing.

‘And don't forget, Grace …' Matilda wagged a finger at her nephew's girlfriend. ‘You're on me planning committee and soon we'll need to get things underway.'

‘'Course, be pleased to help out.' The mention of the Coronation Day street party reminded Grace of her meeting with Vicky Watson. She slid a glance at Chris … time enough later to think about owning up to that …

‘And you're me second in command as far as table laying goes,' Matilda told Daisy.

‘I'm going to bring me boyfriend to the street party,' Daisy whispered to Grace. ‘But don't tell me dad …'

A moment later Rob came in, wearing a proud smile and carrying a huge glass bowl of sherry trifle.

‘Perhaps I'm not as stuffed as I thought,' Chris said. Through the sparkling glass could be seen sumptuous layers of jam sponge and fruit and custard.

‘You just might find your eyes are bigger than your belly, Christopher,' Daisy rebuked him, playfully whacking her cousin's abdomen and making him wince.

‘Well, you can't have none 'cos you're watching yer figure,' Chris retaliated and moved the glass bowl along the tablecloth, out of her reach.

Grace was enjoying seeing a family so at ease with each other. Whenever her mother had family over everybody seemed to stand on ceremony. Not that they entertained often: Shirley had never liked any of her in-laws, so they rarely saw the Coleman side now her father had passed away. Her mother's lot were a bit thin on the ground: Shirley's younger brother had been killed during the Second World War, leaving his widow childless. Grace now felt quite sad that she'd never had an opportunity to grow close to any cousins. She rarely saw her older brother, Paul, so she hardly knew her young nephews. Their visits were limited to Christmas and birthday trips.

But Grace had her beloved nan to visit. Her maternal grandmother had lived in Tottenham all her life, and being close to Nan Jackson was the main reason she and her mother had chosen to settle there on returning from Surrey after her dad passed away.

Once the trifle bowl was empty, but for creamy smears, people began lazily stirring in their chairs.

‘Well, off you all go and relax in the front room,' Faye said. ‘Rob'll put on the wireless for a bit of light music and I'll bring in a nice cup of tea in a while.' She moved back her chair and started clearing the table.

Grace got up too. ‘You must let me help,' she insisted. ‘It's the least I can do after that wonderful meal.'

‘Thanks,' Faye said with a smile. ‘That's kind.'

Pearl and Matilda also started stacking dirty crockery.

‘How about you giving a hand, young lady?' Faye suggested to her daughter.

‘I'm sorting out records 'cos Chris wants to listen to the new one I bought this week.' Daisy squinted meaningfully at her cousin.

‘Oh … right … yeah, that's it,' he replied gamely, while an almost imperceptible shrug indicated he had no part in it.

‘You've got him well-trained.' Pearl directed that at Faye, while watching Rob roll up his sleeves and fill a large bowl with hot water. ‘Stevie might be able to cook but he ain't keen on doing a bit of washing-up.'

Rob gave the women assembled in the kitchen a smile of studied charm. ‘I can be hired out very cheap, you know, ladies.'

‘Don't take no notice of him,' Matilda warned them with a wink. ‘Won't be yer washing-up he'll be wanting to do …'

‘Matilda!' Faye exclaimed with mock indignation. ‘You know he's a reformed character and has been for a long time.'

‘A rogue's a rogue,' Matilda stated with a twinkling smile for her nephew.

At forty-eight years old, Rob Wild was still a handsome man despite his dark hair having silvered at the temples, and a tracery of faint lines being visible on his close-shaven jaw. The scars were the result of a fight he'd had with gangsters almost twenty-five years ago. The facial marks didn't worry him, neither had his leg injury until his slight limp had prevented him being able to join up to fight for his country in 1939.

‘If Matilda reckons I might have a relapse and start flirting perhaps I'd better leave you girls to it.' Rob shook his soapy hands and dropped a kiss on his wife's fair head of hair before leaving the kitchen.

‘Any excuse to skive! Right, you're on washing-up duty at Matilda's Coronation Day party,' Faye called after him.

‘Makes yer sick, don't it.' Matilda wiped furiously at a plate with her cloth. ‘Been married how long? And still turtle doves, the two of 'em.'

‘You have a lovely house,' Grace said a few minutes later, when the washing and wiping was well under way. She glanced around the large, well-equipped kitchen.

When Chris had pulled up in the van outside his uncle and aunt's house Grace had felt her jaw drop. The imposing stucco-fronted villa was situated in a very nice part of Tufnell Park and the sleek Wolseley car parked on the driveway at the side had obviously cost a lot of money.

‘I know we're lucky to live here,' Faye readily admitted. She pushed her damp hair back from her brow with the back of her wrist then set to scrubbing plates again. ‘Rob used to rent this house when he was quite young. Then, as Matilda knows, things went sour for a while and we moved to a smaller place in Islington. But he always wanted to move back here, although I quite liked our cosy little cottage. When the freehold came up for sale, he was fortunate enough to snap it up.'

‘I want to move in with Stevie,' Pearl suddenly announced.

Three pairs of eyes swivelled towards her.

‘But whenever I bring the subject up, he cocks a deaf ‘un,' she added with a grimace of disappointment.

‘Well, could be things'll be changing soon,' Matilda said with a deliberate flick of a glance Grace's way. ‘When Chris settles himself down, you might find Stevie won't be keen to be living on his own.'

‘Let's get that tea made.' Faye noticed that Grace was looking bashful. She took the wet cloths and hung them on the cooking range rail to dry. ‘Leave that lot on the kitchen table.' She nodded at the clean, stacked crockery. ‘We'll need it again teatime anyway.'

‘Fancy a stroll in the garden?' Chris asked Grace as they sat side-by-side, sipping tea, in the elegant front room.

She nodded enthusiastically, and put down her cup. She was keen to explore outside. Having followed Chris towards the French doors she stepped out onto a paved area that ran the width of the house, beyond which was an expanse of well-tended lawn. They strolled arm-in-arm down some steps and on to springy turf.

‘Crikey, I'm full,' Grace murmured with a satiated sigh.

Chris slanted a smile down at her. ‘Better not bring you here again in case you start getting fat,' he teased with an appreciative look at her figure. She was dressed in a sleeveless floral print dress that was skimpy enough to show off a little bit of creamy cleavage and her shapely legs.

She pinched his arm in response, making him give an exaggerated howl. In retaliation he lifted her up and carried her, squealing, a few feet before allowing her sandaled feet back onto the lawn.

‘Wish I had a house like this,' Grace said dreamily, turning around to look at the back aspect of the handsome property.

‘Me too,' Chris said with a wry chuckle. ‘Don't come cheap, places like this.'

‘It's a big house for just the three of them.'

‘Oh, Adam comes home sometimes. Daisy's got a brother,' he explained. ‘He's quite a bit older than her: about twenty-seven or so. Adam's an officer in the RAF.'

‘Is he really?' Grace said, surprised.

‘He was a bit of an ace towards the end of the war, and he was only twenty.' Chris sounded proud of his heroic cousin. ‘At the moment he's stationed in Germany with his fiancée.'

‘Must tell my mum,' Grace giggled. ‘She'll be impressed.'

‘Glad one of us impresses her 'cos I know I don't, do I?' Chris returned dryly.

‘Don't mind her; she's a snob and I've told her so.' Grace patted his arm, consolingly. ‘I hadn't realised your Aunt Matilda could be such a card.'

‘Oh, Matilda's a character alright.' Chris took her hand and led her to a bench set under a weeping willow tree. ‘I tend to think of her as my nan rather than my auntie. When I was younger I used to think of her as me mum. She's been everything to me, really …' Chris gazed off into the sunlit summer afternoon.

Grace hadn't been sure when to tell Chris she'd got some information from Vicky Green. He still didn't know she'd gone to Clapham and found his uncle Rob's old flame. He'd been avoiding talking about his mother and whenever she tried to bring the subject up he'd get quite sharp with her.

But Grace had brought the address with her today, in the hope an appropriate time might arise when she could slip into the conversation that she knew where Pamela might be. And as he'd just mentioned thinking of Matilda as his substitute mum …

‘I've got something for you actually,' she began lightly after they were seated. She pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket. ‘My mum told me that she used to know Vicky Watson … Vicky Green as she is now, 'cos she's married. I went to see her and got you this.'

Chris's eyes darted to her outstretched hand, then to her face.

‘You needn't worry that I told my mum or Vicky anything about why I was interested in Pam Plummer.' She looked earnestly at him, noting disbelief and a hint of anger darkening his eyes. ‘It came up in conversation that my mum used to go to school with Vicky. She was reminiscing about all the girls fancying your uncle Rob years ago, because he was a bit flash. Apparently, Vicky thought she'd got him hooked. Anyway, my mum kept in touch with Vicky and used to send her Christmas cards, and she had her address, so I copied it down without her knowing.' She paused, garnering courage. ‘I went to see Vicky in Clapham and asked for Pamela's address. I said I wanted it to contact Mum's old friends for a Coronation Day get-together. It's not wholly a lie … it'd be wonderful if somehow or other your mum could come.'

‘Why didn't you tell me what you was planning on doing?' Chris demanded hoarsely, staring at the paper as though it were something poisonous.

‘Because you've been a bit narky lately, Chris,' Grace calmly pointed out. ‘I understand why that is,' she added in the same even tone. ‘You're naturally worried about your dad, but he's so much better now and due out of hospital soon.'

He licked his lips, staring off into space as though trying to marshal his thoughts.

‘Stevie can't blame
you
for getting it, Chris,
I
went there …' Grace began.

‘Yeah! And I never asked you to,' he growled, turning a fierce look on her.

Grace felt tears start in her eyes. She had always known what his reaction might be, and yet still it hurt. ‘Her name is Riley now. Your mum married a Stanley Riley …'

‘So bleedin' what?' Chris knew he sounded petulant and childish and he hung his head, propping it in cupped palms.

‘Sorry … I shouldn't have interfered.' Grace sprang up to walk back towards the house. ‘It's time I was getting home,' she said huskily. ‘I'm just going to thank your aunt and uncle and say goodbye to the others …'

Chris caught her arm and dragged her back beside him. ‘Sorry.' He leaned close to whisper against her hair. ‘I know you've done it for the right reason … but … I'm scared of going there and being told to clear off.'

‘Are you scared of being welcomed in too?' Grace asked, pushing back to search his eyes. ‘You don't know how your mum'll react.'

‘Me dad called her a useless lazy slut when he found out I wanted to find her; he'd never said anything like that before.'

‘Perhaps he's as scared as you are,' Grace said gently. ‘It'll be a big change for you all if you get to know your mum; and you might have brothers and sisters too. He could be still bitter about it all.'

‘I reckon it's true, what he said.'

‘Well, perhaps it
was
true, but people change over time, and if you give up, you won't ever know.'

‘I'm not sure …' he croaked.

‘Think about it, that's all you've got to do,' Grace urged him.

Chris wiped a hand across his mouth and stared into the distance.

‘Your dad's not out of hospital yet, there's still time before he comes home …'

‘Yeah, I know!' Immediately he closed his eyes and muttered an apology for sounding brusque, raking his fingers through his long dark hair. ‘Me uncle Rob thinks I shouldn't rock the boat, and he always talks sense.' He choked a mirthless laugh. ‘Don't know how he found out I'd been hoping to contact me mum. Probably Matilda blurted it out. I'm pretty sure me dad wouldn't have mentioned any of it to him.'