Chocolate Girls (11 page)

‘I remember doing that,’ Ruby laughed, her arm looped through Frank’s as they walked. ‘And they’re all wilted when you get them home!’

Frank leaned down and picked a couple of sprays of the mauvish blue flowers and threaded them through Ruby’s top buttonhole, kissing her nose as he did so.

‘There, Queen of the May.’

‘It’s lovely here,’ Ruby said. ‘It’s hard to take in the war when you’re somewhere like this.’

‘Feels real enough in the Forces,’ Frank said tersely.

She glanced up at him. They’d climbed until they could see the sweeping view of the surrounding counties. The air blew sharply in their faces with a tang of cold to it, and ragged clouds brushed across the sun. Frank seemed remote suddenly, and hard. Sometimes he frightened her, the way he looked.

‘Frank?’ she touched his arm. ‘What’s up?’

He looked round at her sternly. ‘We don’t know how bad it’s going to get, do we? I just want to make you mine. Before it’s too late.’

The look in his eyes and his tone brought the blood to her cheeks.

‘You want to get married, straight away?’

‘If that’s what it takes. I want—’ He turned and pulled her to him. ‘I’ll show yer what I want.’ He kissed her hard on the mouth.

Clapping, accompanied by ribald comments, broke out from the picnickers seated round them.

‘Frank!’ Ruby pushed him away, pretending to be on her dignity.

‘We’re going to get wed!’ Ruby shouted joyfully to them. ‘How about that, eh?’ She let out her loud, jolly laugh and more applause followed. She felt foolish now, not having said yes before. How could she deny Frank when he was a fighting man?

She sat in the basement, trying to ignore the air-raid and dreaming of her wedding night.

‘They’re coming, listen,’ someone said, shushing everyone.

The droning sound of planes grew louder and closer. Ruby looked at the faces around her, waiting tensely in the sudden quiet. The first wave passed over and everyone let out a long breath of relief.

Edie watched Connie’s fingers twining the wool round her needles. The sight of the half-knitted matinée coat, so like the one she had laboriously made for her little baby, brought all her emotions to the surface. Though months had passed, sometimes it all came back harsh and raw as if Jack had died only yesterday. She’d seen his cold body before they fixed down the coffin lid. His face was grazed from where he had hit the ground. Edie had leaned down and stroked his dark brows with her finger. She kissed the unblemished part of his cheek. He looked younger, more as he had when they were fifteen and the Weales first moved into the area.

‘Oh Jack,’ she whispered, her tears falling on his cold, still face. ‘I love you so much. Why did you have to go and leave us?’

Ruby had seen her through the funeral, had spent all the time she could manage with her. After the first shock of grief all the worries about practical things assailed her, adding to her pain. She felt horribly lonely. The emptiness of their rooms without Jack coming home was almost unbearable. She knew it would be cheaper to rent only one room, yet she couldn’t stand the thought of moving anywhere unfamiliar. Once inside she could hide away in their little nest and remember the sound of him coming through the door, the feel of him lying beside her at night. She’d imagined telling their child, ‘That’s where your dad used to sit, and he stood and shaved by the little mirror over there, that speckled mirror which he said gave me even more freckles on my nose than are really there . . .’

After she lost the baby, little Jack as she called him, weeks of numbness were followed by acute pain and and misery at the double loss. She felt so alone. Everything had been taken from her. Many an evening she sat crying, holding the little white matinée coat and bootees, stroking them, aching to hold the child, and to be held in her turn and comforted by Jack. She had to endure her breasts producing milk when there was no baby to feed and at times she felt beside herself, as if she just couldn’t go on. As the spring turned into summer, she saw that in one way at least, her mother’s harsh comments had been true. How on earth would she have managed if her baby had survived? She had never faced up to the reality of what was happening. And now it was all over.

She was so glad to be able to go back to work and be amid the camaraderie and busy atmosphere. Neville Chamberlain had resigned as Prime Minister and they were becoming used to the sound of Churchill’s growling voice on the Pattisons’ wireless. The war was coming to their doorsteps, quite literally, as a trickle of the uninjured lads from Dunkirk turned up at their homes. Fear and tension permeated everything.

And now I’m sitting here waiting for them to drop bombs on us! Edie thought. Everything welled up inside her and she leaned forward and shielded her face with one hand to hide her tears. Another thing which was setting her off was the thought of Ruby and Frank’s wedding that weekend. It was lovely that they were getting married. Ruby had been so good to her and Edie was genuinely delighted for them, but the imminent wedding only made her feel more lonely. She felt sobs rising in her.

The planes moved overhead and everyone waited, as if holding their breath. There was a sigh as they passed, then an outbreak of cheering.

‘Let’s ’ave a sing-song!’ someone called from the other end, and after several ragged attempts, launched into ‘Kiss Me Goodnight Sergeant Major’. Edie kept her head down, glad that her crying would be hidden in the raucous noise.

After a moment she felt a hand on her shoulder. Someone was budging the others up to sit beside her, and then a pretty cotton handkerchief, embroidered with a curling ‘J’ in the corner, was pressed into her hand.

‘I owe you one, sort of, don’t I?’ a gentle voice said. The woman smiled at Edie’s bemused expression as she turned to see a face framed by frizzy, curling hair which seemed determined to escape from any restriction imposed upon it in the form of hairpins.

‘D’you remember, the bus stop? I was rather upset that day and you said you’d give me a hanky if you had one?’

‘Oh!’ Edie tried to smile, wiping her eyes gratefully. In contrast to the last time they’d met, the young woman’s face was smooth and untroubled by tears and the brown eyes behind her spectacles were full of warmth and sympathy. ‘I didn’t recognize you.’

‘You seem upset,’ she said.

‘Yes, well . . .’ Edie said shyly. ‘I’ll be all right.’ But in the face of such kindness, more tears ran down her cheeks. ‘Thing is,’ she blurted out, with no idea why she was doing so except the woman looked so kind, ‘I lost my husband and then our babby, all since September.’

‘Oh my word, how dreadful, you poor girl!’ Janet immediately put her arm round Edie’s shoulders. ‘You don’t look old enough to have had all these awful things happen to you.’ Edie was a little embarrassed, but she welcomed the comfort. There was still plenty of noise around them: the singers moved on to ‘Ten Green Bottles’. ‘I do hope you’ve the support of your family to see you through.’

‘Not really.’ Edie stared down into her lap. She wiped her face fiercely. ‘Still. No good moaning. There’s nothing can be done. Just ’ave to get on with it.’

‘You haven’t been moaning, far from it. Look, I don’t even know your name. I’m Janet Hatton. I work upstairs: typist, in the buying department.’

‘Edie Weale. My pals here call me Ginger. I’m on the masks at the moment.’ She found herself telling Janet a lot about herself, how she lived alone above Miss Smedley. She told her she didn’t see eye-to-eye with her mom, but she didn’t elaborate much on that. She couldn’t explain Nellie even to herself, let alone a stranger, even though, within minutes, Janet didn’t really feel like a stranger at all.

‘I suppose I’m lucky with my mother,’ Janet said. ‘We’ve always got on quite well. My father died in the last war and she’s looked to my brother and me really. She worries about things too much, but she’s very good to me.’

‘You ain’t, I mean, you’re not married then?’ Edie wondered if she was being too nosey, but she found Janet remarkably easy to talk to.

‘No,’ Janet said, with a faint smile. Edie thought she also saw her blush, though it was hard to be sure. ‘Not yet. There was somebody, but it would never have worked.’ Edie heard the sadness in her voice and wondered if that was why she had been crying that night at the bus stop. She didn’t feel she could ask any more. ‘Actually,’ she added gloomily, ‘I don’t think I’m a very good judge of men.’

‘Oh well, you’ll find someone, I’m sure,’ Edie said.

Janet smiled wistfully. ‘We’ll have to see, won’t we?’ She removed her arm from round Edie’s shoulders and they chatted for a while. The singing behind them came and went in waves. Janet told her that she and her mother had had two evacuees from Guernsey staying with them.

‘Mum thinks she ought to be doing more, so we said we’d have them. One of them’s still with us,’ she smiled wryly. ‘They were cousins, two girls. Very different characters. The quiet one, Marie, who’s stayed, has got herself a munitions job and she’s getting along fine, but the other was a right little madam. She’s twenty-one. I think she found our household a bit staid for her – thought her wings had been clipped. She’s gone up to Manchester to a friend of hers who’s come over as well. I’m not sure she’ll find the bright lights in Manchester either, at the moment!’ Janet looked carefully at Edie for a moment as if wondering whether to say what was on her mind. ‘I was wondering, have you volunteered for anything yet?’

‘Me? No. My dad’s in the Home Guard and my pal Ruby, her brother’s on firewatch here. D’you mean the ARP?’

‘Yes, of course. There are all sorts of things to do, especially if there’s going to be a lot more of this.’ She rolled her eyes to indicate the planes overhead. ‘I’ve joined up as an ambulance driver for the ARP – but you could do First Aid or work with the WVS.’

I
should
do something, Edie thought, hearing the urgency in Janet’s voice. Why haven’t I done it before? I’m just sitting there night after night.

‘What do they do, then?’ she asked.

‘The WVS? Oh, all sorts. Almost everything. A lot of the time they run canteens. I saw them at New Street Station, after Dunkirk. They were handing out tea to the wounded chaps.’

‘Well, I think I could hand out tea,’ Edie said, feeling a sudden surge of enthusiasm. ‘I don’t know what to do with, you know, blood and bandages and that sort of thing.’

‘There you are!’ Janet gave Edie’s hand a squeeze. ‘There’s nothing like getting out and lending someone a hand to cure the miseries. And believe me, I should know! Tell you what, Edie, would you like me to come with you if you go to volunteer?’

Edie was astonished. This woman, whom she barely knew, seemed ready to befriend her. Coming from some people that would have seemed pushy, but she had warmed to Janet immediately and seen how kindhearted and jolly she was. And it would be nice not always to have to do everything alone.

‘Well,’ Edie laughed. ‘I don’t know why you’d want to spend your time sorting me out! But yes, that’d be very nice, if you would.’

‘I’d love to!’ Janet said. ‘Sounds as if you’ve had a rough time of it. You could do with a bit of help.’

By the time the ‘All Clear’ sounded, Edie felt she had made a new friend, and she felt warmed and more cheerful.

The next day after work, Janet took her to volunteer for the Women’s Voluntary Service.

The first time Ruby saw Edie in her WVS uniform in her room at Miss Smedley’s, she roared with laughter.

‘Sssh!’ Edie urged. ‘Or
she’ll
be up here carrying on!’

‘Oh Edie – you don’t half look a sight!’ Ruby came over and snatched the schoolgirlish felt hat from Edie’s head to try it on, clowning in front of the mirror. Her eyes danced with mischief. It looked too small, and ridiculous perched above Ruby’s moon face, and Edie laughed as well. ‘Eh, I thought it was only them posh ladies from Edgbaston and that went in for the WVS?’

‘Well, some of them are,’ Edie conceded, coming over and trying to grab the hat back. ‘Come on, Rube, give us it, you’re making a mess of it!’ She got it back from Ruby’s clutches and smoothed it out. ‘They’re not all, though, there’s all sorts. And Janet said . . .’

‘Janet said, Janet said . . .’ Ruby mocked, sitting herself down at the table.

Edie sat opposite her. The kettle steamed on the hob. ‘You’re not jealous, are yer? She’s ever so nice.’

‘No,’ Ruby conceded with a grin. ‘Course not. And you’re right, she
is
nice. Seems very kind, the sort who’d mix with anyone and treat yer all the same.’

Janet had been amazingly good to Edie. She’d invited her home for tea, and gone with her to the WVS. Edie appreciated her kindness so much that she asked if she could bring Janet along to Ruby and Frank’s wedding, as quite a few Cadbury girls were going. Janet had come in a lovely sunflower-yellow dress and helped keep everyone calm when Frank was dreadfully late arriving from the east coast and Ruby was convinced she’d been jilted at the altar and would never become Mrs Gilpin. In the end the day went off very successfully and Edie felt honoured that Janet seemed to want to be her friend.

‘She said I’d be better off in the WVS than in the Red Cross if I didn’t want to be dealing with blood.’ Edie got up to see to the kettle. ‘I still feel funny in these clothes, though.’