Women on the Home Front (155 page)

What’s wrong with you, Lily Winstanley? Get a grip. This is your night out with the girls, one last night of freedom before…what? When the cage door shuts, what then?

She dawdled behind the others, trying to lose them and slip off home but, turning down a path through the bushes, Queenie was quick to halt her.

‘Where’re you sneaking off to now? There’s the big band from the Astoria doing some numbers. It’s dancing time for you.’

‘Oh, no, not for me. It’s been a long day…’

‘The night’s still young. Come on, where’s your spirit of adventure?’ Queenie insisted. ‘If an old married codger like me is up for it, then the bride-to-be must polish the floor with her slippers and let her hair down.’

‘No, I’m not much of a dancer, really. I ought to be on my way. Walt wouldn’t like me to—’

‘What Walt don’t know won’t hurt him, duckie. Enjoy yourself. Don’t be a spoilsport. Time enough for sitting
down with the old man when the wedding cake’s gone mouldy.’

There wasn’t much choice but to tag along and try not to yawn. Dancing was not their forte. Between the two of them, they had four left feet when dancing at the church socials, tripping over each other, apologising and laughing. Walt had no sense of rhythm, and with his backache they were both nervous in case sudden jerks might set it all off again. He was such a martyr to his back.

It wasn’t that swing music wasn’t exciting, but the church didn’t play that sort of stuff and Esme didn’t like it on the wireless. It was common and too lively for chapel tastes, but Maria was always playing music in the café and it always got Lily’s toes tapping. Just because your parent didn’t like something didn’t mean you had to go along with it too.

It was so easy to slip into old habits, she thought. Doormat Lil might be stuck with the Home Service on the wireless but Lee Winstanley would be up for the Light Programme and the big band beat.

The Joe Crombie Orchestra was letting rip on the makeshift dance floor, which looked more like a boxing ring than a cabaret. There were fairy lights hanging down from the trees and the moon was lighting up the purple orange sunset. There was still heat in the evening sun. ‘Very continental,’ said Maria, looking up wistfully as dancers were drifting across to a slow foxtrot. They were playing Glenn Miller and it brought back such vivid memories of the GI and that shameful episode
in the park. Everything was conspiring against her at the moment.

‘You look tired out,’ said Lily, touching her elbow. Rosa was fast asleep. ‘Go and sit down. I’ll watch her.’

‘Grazie…
’ What would she have done without her friends? But if they knew the truth…Since Marco’s death she had not stopped for one minute, cleaning, cooking, visiting Nonna, sewing-anything to take her mind off what was going to happen.

At first she thought it was all the strain that had stopped her period. It had happened before but she couldn’t recall when she had last had to buy sanitary pads. In the aftermath of her grief her body seemed to be floating six inches from her head. The sick feeling and tiredness was only to be expected, but suddenly her breasts were so tender and full, and she couldn’t bear the smell of the tea urn. It made her want to throw up so it wouldn’t take a soothsayer to tell her what she already knew deep in her heart.

‘Can you keep a secret, Lily?’ she whispered. ‘I have to tell someone. I am in big trouble. I can tell only you. I think there’s a
bambino
on the way. What shall I do?’ she gulped, sinking down onto the grass, not waiting for the reply.

‘So that’s why you’ve been fainting in the café? Ana was worried,’ Lily said, sitting down beside her.

‘If the Santinis find out, I will be banished for bringing them a bad name. What shall I do? I was making a fresh start and now this, and no man…’

‘You’ll survive. Believe me, you’ll not be the first to be let down.’

‘How can I tell everyone? I’ll have to leave. They will not want to eat with me…’

‘Of course they will. We’re your friends, and friends stick with each other no matter what. Believe me, we
all
have secrets. If I was free to tell you, I’d tell you one of my own but I made a promise.’

‘I know, you are good woman and good friend. I can trust you.’

‘Don’t worry, there’ll be a way through, Ria. We’ll think of something.’

Things just couldn’t get any worse for Maria, could they? She was going to need all the friends she could get, Lily mused. A baby on the way should be a moment of joy, not an event full of shame and dread. Maria had been longing for another child, but now…How could she explain it away? What a mess. Why was life so complicated? This news took the last ounce of pleasure from the outing, knowing that her friend was carrying such a burden. Sylvio ought to be told the news and do the decent thing, but it wasn’t her business to interfere and yet…how easy it was to solve other people’s problems from afar.

She watched the dancers gliding across the floor and a flood of envy flushed her cheeks. Why wasn’t she here with Walt, canoodling in the twilight? How could he prefer his mother’s company, the ‘Battleaxe of Bowker’s Row’ as Esme called Elsie Platt? Perhaps he was trying to keep her sweet.

There was no love lost between the two mothers-in-law. The newlyweds were going to have to play fair with
both sides or there’d be trouble. Married life was already losing its appeal.

Anxiety was spreading right through her body, making her twitchy and irritated by the soft music. Diana was waving to a group of young men in smart blazers with badges on their pockets. The crowd parted in admiration as some of the Grasshoppers began to circulate around the dance floor, choosing partners. That was all she needed, seeing a bunch of Freddie’s friends enjoying themselves. They were the usual suspects: Barry, Clive and their gang making their way in her direction. Freddie would have loved the party.

Ana waltzed around with Clive, laughing at one of his feeble jokes. How she had changed in appearance and confidence from the frightened girl who arrived at Ringway on that wet afternoon so many months ago. Now she wore her nurse’s uniform with pride and her limbs were fleshing out at last.

It was strange to think that this time last year Freddie was alive, far away but alive and full of mischief. Lily still couldn’t believe he wasn’t coming home. One day she would pack that new suitcase, find where he was buried, and go and pay her respects there, however much it cost.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she spun round to see the broad face of Pete Walsh, smiling at her.

‘Fancy a turn, front half or back half?’ he joked, recalling their frenetic pantomime dance.

‘I don’t know, I’m watching Rosa here,’ Lily spluttered.

‘Get her on that floor,’ snapped Queenie. ‘I’ll see to the kiddie.’

There was no time to protest as Pete led her out onto the wooden planks. Now she was going to make a complete fool of herself. Her heart was racing as he lifted his hand into her own.

‘Young Kathleen tells me celebrations are in order,’ he whispered. ‘When’s the big day?’

‘Two weeks on Saturday,’ her voice squeaked.

There was silence as he led her across the floor in a waltz. It was like cruising down the dual carriageway in third gear, no double de-clutching, no stalling, no spluttering, just a smooth gliding waltz as if her legs took instructions from his. They were floating, swirling around like a top, dizzy.

‘You’re a good dancer,’ he said, holding her hand when the music stopped suddenly.

‘I’m not. I’ve two left feet. It’s you that’s the expert.’

‘Let’s do it again,’ he laughed. ‘I might as well make the most of you before you get snaffled up by old Plattie, lucky chap.’

There was no time to say no or remove her hand from his. For the first time in weeks she was enjoying herself. Someone else was making the decisions and sweeping her around. It was a revelation how a good dancer could change steps and direction, follow the music and take care of his partner at the same time!

Dancing with Pete Walsh-who’d’ve thought it? He was still unspoiled by his popularity in the town, still scoring goals but this was the off season when the footballers were on half-pay, going back to their
old jobs part time. He was helping out at his uncle’s brewery.

She had been his biggest fan. Now dumbstruck by the scent of his breath on her cheeks and the flash of his bright eyes grinning at her, her heart was thumping.

‘What you staring at?’ he teased.

Thank goodness it was dark and he couldn’t see her blushes. ‘I was just thinking about Miss Sampson’s class seven and you being the ball monitor. I never thought you’d make such a good job of football.’ It was the best excuse she could muster.

How could she tell him what a warm smile he had or how she wanted to finger the dimple in the middle of his chin?

‘You’ve been going out with Walter Platt for years. I always hoped you’d get him out of your system and look in my direction,’ Pete whispered in her ear.

Was this some sort of joke? ‘I beg your pardon?’ she snapped, suddenly feeling hot. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Forget it, Lily. It’s the Wilson’s brown ale talking. I always did have a soft spot for you, even in class seven,’ he coughed, and she could see he was in earnest.

Well, now’s a fine time to tell me, she sighed. What a turn-up: Pete Walsh fancying me! Yet now she thought about it he was always popping in on his way through the Market Hall, and made a point of meeting his little sister from Brownies.

‘I think it’s marvellous the way you’ve championed Freddie’s friends. I always knew you had a good heart. I only wish I’d…’ He stopped, embarrassed.

‘Go on,’ Lily smiled. ‘It’s nice hearing compliments instead of curses.’

‘Walt must have told you a hundred times what a good-looking woman you are. Our Kathleen worships the ground you walk on. The trouble with me is I’m backward in coming forward.’

‘Not when you’re scoring goals you’re not. That last one against Arsenal in the Cup was a gem.’

‘You saw it?’

‘Heard it on the wireless when I was on duty in the market.’

‘How’re you enjoying your new job?’

‘You know a lot about me all of a sudden,’ she replied coyly, flattered by this interest.

‘I know you’re at Longsight Travel now. My uncle Ernie and auntie Glad are going on their tour to France. He was in the Great War. He wants to show Glad where her brother fell.’

The tune came to an end and Lily stopped. ‘You’re a good man, Peter Walsh, but I’d better stop you before the tongues start wagging. We’ve danced four dances on the trot.’

‘Who’s counting? Come on, one last one and then I’ll let you go.’

It was a boogie-woogie, another Glen Miller number. Everyone was jiving and jitterbugging. Lily felt all fingers and thumbs but suddenly she didn’t care. Dancing was fun when the man knew what he was doing. She would go along with it just this once. She was in the mood for a bit of frivolity. They twirled and she danced around him, not caring if she was showing
next week’s washing. He spun her round and caught her and she raised her hands, waving to the others, who were watching her amazed. Then it was over and he caught her in his arms.

‘Just one kiss for old times’ sake,’ he laughed, then plonked a soft kiss on her lips and pulled her tight.

She felt a ripple of excitement from her toes to her suspenders. All her elastic was pinging, her head was swimming and her knees just crumpled. If only you could bottle that sensation up like a good piccalilli, sharp and sweet, tangy with a zing, she thought. You’d be a millionaire.

‘No, no more, please!’ She fled his embrace, covered in confusion, down the steps right into the path of Levi and Ivy.

‘Well! Who’s a sly horse then? Just wait until Walt finds out you’ve been setting your cap at Pete Walsh, kissing and canoodlin’. He was all over you like a rash,’ Levi smiled and winked.

The two of them must have been lurking down the side of the dance floor and seen the whole episode.

‘That’s no way for a bride to be behaving, Lil, and in front of the whole of Grimbleton. It’ll be all round the park that Brown Owl was making an exhibition of herself.’ Ivy was enjoying every moment of her triumph. ‘Not so much the pure little Lily of Laguna, are we, two-timing your fiancé on the sly?’

‘Oh, give over, Ivy. I was doing nothing of the sort. You’re only jealous. It’s none of your business what I get up to on my last night out. I expect my brother will drag my fiancé around all the pubs to make a right fool
of himself and no one will say a word because he’s a bloke.’ No one was going to spoil this moment. ‘Why shouldn’t a woman have fun too before she’s chained to the kitchen sink?’

‘You’ve got very cocky since you joined that club of yours. You wouldn’t catch me with that greasy lot…’ Ivy added, seeing Queenie, Ana and Su eyeing her with suspicion.

‘And none of us would want a mealy-mouthed, jumped-up little hypocrite who sends poison-pen letters, as our friend,’ screeched Queenie. ‘We know about you.’

‘Say that again, you old bitch,’ Ivy spat out, unaware that Maria was coming up right behind her.

Face to face with the poisonous witch, Maria had heard all the jibes and she saw the worried look on Lily’s face.

‘You shutta yer mouth. You bring trouble wherever you go,’ she yelled, lunging forward to push Ivy out of her path.

‘And you’re no better than you should be. Get out of my hair!’ Ivy sprang back, lashing out with her hand to punch her. She ducked just in time.

‘You insult my friend! You kill my Marco. I kill you now.’ Maria was beside herself, spitting fury and grabbing at Ivy’s hair, tugging until lumps came off in her hand.

A crowd was gathering.

‘Get off me, you trollop! You’re all the same…rubbish, foreign scum, the lot of you. You’re not welcome here.’

Lily was trying to push in between them, pleading
with Levi, ‘Get your wife out of here. She’s not welcome, can’t you see?’

He pulled Ivy away, but she turned on Lily. ‘You call these trollops your friends?’ Ivy spat the words in her face.

‘Just how many close friends do you have, my lady?’ yelled Susan, red in the face. ‘We’ve never seen anyone come calling for you, all the time we live with you. Poor Neville will be one lonely boy if you think you’re above everyone else. No wonder Levi has walking hands,’ she screamed back, not caring who overheard the row.