Birmingham Friends (27 page)

‘But I thought you said you hadn’t played?’

She waved a hand at me as if I was a half-wit. ‘This was earlier. And I was always top of the men’s lists for dances. There were fights over me you know. One poor fellow was knocked out cold outside the Naafi one night over me. I thought it was simply terrific. So romantic!’ Her laughter came out exaggerated, as if she’d been drinking.

‘Livy.’ I found myself speaking in a measured voice of the sort we used for patients who were confused or agitated. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it all. But it’s over now, isn’t it? You need to rest and settle down again. Get well properly. And you’ll have to think what you’re going to do. You never wanted to come back and live at home, did you?’

She sank back in the chair, suddenly limp. ‘Daddy didn’t get elected, did he?’ She gave a malicious laugh. ‘Missed the boat. He jumps on the bandwagon thinking he’ll get a seat because of all dear Mr Churchill’s done, and then they go and elect the Labour wallahs instead. Isn’t that a joke? Don’t you think it’s a scream?’

‘Livy – don’t. Look, think about yourself. What are you going to do?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. What a nag you’re being, Katie!’ She threw herself up out of the chair and went to the piano. She lit another cigarette and offered me one. I shook my head. She sat perched on the piano stool, pulling in the smoke hard.

‘I suppose I’ll get some tedious little job in a tedious little company somewhere. I’ll have to find a way of livening it up somehow, won’t I?’ Suddenly an odd, gleeful smile spread across her face. ‘Come here, Katie.’ She beckoned me urgently. ‘I’ll tell you a secret, shall I? You must promise not to tell.’

Encouraged, I walked over to her. Putting her lips close to my ear she said, ‘They think they’ve got me here now, all locked away. But I still do it. I do. Every week at least I do it with a man. Anywhere I can. Even once in the gazebo – like when you found me and William. I told that one he had to be a very good boy. Nice and quiet, no shouting out. A lot of them shout you see, the things I do to them. Poor fellows can’t control themselves.’

I drew my head back as if from a hornet. Of course I wasn’t a total innocent, but it had dawned on me only gradually as she spoke that she meant sexual intercourse. Her face wore a terrible, smug smile.

‘You’ll keep this all under wraps of course, won’t you, Katie?’

I felt sick. I took her in my arms. ‘Olivia. Oh my sweet one – whatever has happened to you?’

Soon after VJ Day Douglas and I announced to our families that we were planning to marry. My mother digested this piece of information almost entirely without comment, other than to suggest that, to start with, we live with her.

‘There are hardly any houses to be had and there’s plenty of room here. You’d have no need to fear for your privacy.’ She spoke stiffly, perhaps afraid we’d reject her.

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?’ I said doubtfully.

‘I don’t entirely relish the thought of living on my own. I should have to think about selling the house. And in any case,’ she announced, ‘I shan’t be around bothering you. From the new year I shall be very busy – I’ve accepted a post on a children’s ward at Selly Oak Hospital.’

‘Mummy, that’s terrific!’ I said. ‘Whyever didn’t you tell me?’

‘I just have told you,’ she said, stalking off with an armful of dried washing.

Though my inclination was not to accept her offer I knew it made sense, and Douglas was delighted. ‘It’s such a beautiful home,’ he said. ‘Otherwise we’d be in some poky little place. It’s very good of her to ask us.’

Douglas received a formal, tetchy note from his father, to the effect that he was glad to be informed that ‘my boy’ was planning to settle down, but that it was very bad form that they hadn’t even been allowed the privilege of meeting his intended. It also rebuked him sharply for not visiting home. His mother had been distraught with worry. Douglas was to travel to Gloucester immediately.

‘We really must go,’ I insisted to an enraged Douglas. I was shaken by the impersonal tone of the letter, but also by its description of Mrs Craven’s distress. ‘You can hardly blame them, can you? You’ve barely contacted them at all and your mother’s written so faithfully to you.’

‘Oh yes – she’s very good at giving completely the wrong impression,’ Douglas snapped.

I was taken aback by his tone. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘Nothing.’ He got up from his chair in our back room and went to the window. ‘I’m not going to be summoned to Gloucester like that. I’m sorry, Katie, but I’ve got away from them and away is where I’m going to stay. Once you’ve cut ties it’s better to keep it that way. That’s my view of things.’

‘You can be very cold.’ I was upset, not wanting to begin married life with us so much on the wrong side of my in-laws. ‘Look, why don’t I go and see them on my own if that’s how you feel?’

‘No!’ Douglas shouted, his face flushing a deep red. ‘Don’t you dare. I’m not having you going down there behind my back.’

‘Don’t shout at me like that.’ I was furious with him for reacting like this. ‘It wouldn’t be behind your back, would it? I’ve just asked you.’

Without turning round again he said, ‘Well, the answer’s no.’

After a few moments he hobbled over and put his arms round me. ‘I’m sorry, darling. Don’t be angry – please.’

He wrote an immediate reply to them saying that we wouldn’t be coming. I felt angry, guilty about treating them in such a way. Eventually I dropped them a brief note myself, trying to sound as pleasant as I could, saying I was sorry for our lack of contact, but that I hoped to meet them in the near future. By return of post I received a strange note from Mrs Craven.

Dear Katherine,

I was most relieved to receive your letter. I suppose Douglas has stopped you coming to visit us, being the stubborn boy he is. He doesn’t find it easy to forgive, the poor darling. He won’t change, you know, they never do. If you can persuade him to let us meet you I should be very grateful of course. I’m sure you’ll look after him. I shall do all in my power to be at the wedding.

Best if you don’t mention to my husband that I’ve written.

Sincerely, Julia Craven.

Soon after she heard of my engagement, Ruth Harvey came to our house. She stood on the doorstep, her bag on her arm and an odd look on her face which reminded me of the day she had come to tell me Angus was missing. I showed her into the front room. She refused to sit down.

‘You’re marrying someone else.’

I hadn’t anticipated such directness. I nodded, not speaking.

‘Oh ye of little faith.’ Her voice was low, almost menacing. Her belief that Angus was not dead had reached the point of obsession. She was a thinner, stranger woman, hair now pepper-and-salt grey.

‘He’s dead. He’s not coming back,’ I said, pitying her. ‘It’s not that I don’t love him still. I shall always love him, Ruth. But we have to face up to it. We shan’t see him again, however much we still feel for him.’

‘We’ll see,’ she said, though I thought I heard the beginnings of resignation in her voice. Opening her handbag she drew out a white envelope and handed it to me. ‘You’d better have this.’

I stared at it for a few seconds, unable to give any meaning to it. I saw my name written carefully in blue ink and knew immediately that the writing was Angus’s. Frowning, I looked across at her.

‘He left it with me. That Christmas, when he was on embarkation leave. For me to give you if he – ’ she struggled for a second to steady her voice. ‘He said I was to give it to you at the right moment.’

Just managing to control myself, I said, ‘And if I was not now about to marry someone else, when exactly do you think the right moment might have been?’

She turned her face away from me and looked beyond, out to the garden. ‘I hoped I should never have to give it to you.’

It was all I could do to prevent myself running at her, tearing my nails across her face.

‘How dare you keep it from me?’ I shrieked at her. ‘How could you? How dare you decide when I could read it?’ I flailed my arms helplessly. ‘Give it to me!’

I went to take it but she held the letter clutched to her chest. ‘You gave up on him.’

‘And if you carry on like this you’ll be giving up on John and Mary. Now give it to me.’

‘Whatever’s going on?’ My mother’s shocked face appeared in the doorway.

I held my hand out, my eyes fixed on Ruth’s. Finally she laid the envelope in my palm. I pushed past Mummy, beyond thinking of anything, and ran to my room, shaking, bewildered at the violence I had felt towards Ruth. We who had been such a comfort to one another in the early days of Angus’s disappearance had grown sharply apart when I had moved forward, able to grieve, to find the beginnings of acceptance.

Before I opened the letter I let the tears come, months’ worth of grief still raw in me, compounded by my rage with Ruth. I even half suspected she had chosen this moment to give me the letter in order to blight my marriage to Douglas. What a comfort it could have been having this letter when I first knew I might not see Angus again. To have his voice through these words at a time when he still felt close and recent. I sat holding the envelope, weeping and shaking.

Only when I was spent did I open it. Seeing his writing on the paper brought a new ache. He had headed the letter Christmas 1940.

Dear Katie,

I’m sitting on my bunk writing this, only just able to see as the sky is so heavy with rain outside, and I must admit to feeling as weighed down myself by what I have to say to you.

I suppose like anyone writing a letter such as this I am praying above all that you will never come to read it. The thought of you having to do so is unbearable but I know I must write. I can’t assume that I shall come through all this unscathed. Unlike some of the other chaps I don’t have a supreme confidence that I am indestructible.

All I know is that with every fibre of my being I want to stay alive. I love life, and above all my darling, I love you. I am only thankful that I shall not be leaving you widowed, perhaps with our young children to bring up alone and unsupported. That would be an enormous sadness and shame to me. Sometimes I dream of our having a family together, but not now – not in the middle of all this. When I am low I think of your smile and the feel of you close to me. I want to live and live, and to be back sharing this life with you.

All I can say is that you are everything to me, and I shall love you and remember your touch through life or death. But if it comes to it that you are left alone, Katie, please don’t feel you mustn’t love anyone else or allow them to feel for you. You are so lovable, and above all I want to think that you will be happy. You must take whatever life can give you with my blessing.

I’ll end this by saying ‘until we meet again’ in whatever way that is possible. Pray God that it is in life.

Goodbye, my dearest love. Yours always, Angus.

I lay on my bed for a very long time with his letter pressed to my body, while calmer, quieter tears moved down my cheeks like a benediction.

Two days later, my mother told me that Ruth Harvey had agreed to hold a memorial service for Angus.

Douglas and I were married by Mr Hughes in January 1946. I would not have felt right dolling myself up in a long white dress, and in any case I’ve never been the frilly type, so instead I chose a cream suit which was smart and flattering, if not ethereal and virginal. My mother approved. I’m not sure Douglas did. I think he would have loved a white angel on his arm.

The evening before the wedding there was a stream of people through the house. Olivia, who was of course to be my bridesmaid, came to try on her dress for the last time. It was made of a vivid blue shantung, in a straight, elegant style which suited her. But I couldn’t help noticing the painful boniness of her back as she undressed, facing the mirror. Her face looked washed-out and strained and there were dark shadows under her eyes.

She was excited, nervous, and barely stopped talking. ‘I so terribly want to get everything just right for you.’ She chattered on, looking at herself in the long mirror. She had on a pair of high, slim-heeled court shoes in cream, and twisted herself this way and that on the balls of her feet as I sat watching from the bed. ‘This is so exciting, Katie, and Douglas is an absolute love. It’s got to be a perfect day. Nothing else will do for you.’

I smiled at her extravagance, happy to see her so animated. ‘Livy – it’s wonderful to have you around again.’ I stood up and went to kiss her. ‘Thanks for being such a brick.’

Peter Harvey came to see me. I found it very difficult to communicate with Ruth, despite the service for Angus which had been held just before Christmas. But Peter had been kinder and more resigned from the beginning.

He held both my hands and kissed me. ‘We shall be at the service, but I wanted to see you properly while you’ve got the chance to talk. The actual day is such a bustle. Now, now,’ he said, seeing my eyes filling. ‘You deserve a bit of happiness. Ruth wishes you well really, you know. It’s just taken her a long time to come to terms with it all.’

I kissed his worn face. ‘It’s all right. I understand. You do know if I still thought there was a chance of Angus coming home, that I’d never – ’

‘Oh, now – that’s no way to go into your marriage.’ He gave his chesty laugh. ‘You’re marrying Douglas. You be happy, girl. That’s an order!’

Mummy helped me with my simple preparations for the wedding dutifully, but without obvious enthusiasm. She had shown more vivacity when, shortly after coming home, William announced he was going to abandon Oxford and embark on a career in banking. She felt it would stand him in far better stead. Clearly he had no desire to return home, and had taken off to London acclaimed by Mummy as being very clever and sensible. I had thought Mummy and I had grown marginally closer during the war years, but as soon as William arrived home I had sensed the distance growing between us again.