Chocolate Girls (38 page)

‘I’m afraid it’s rather a long story,’ Martin said.

‘Oh.’ The woman was uninterested, began retreating inside. ‘That’s all I know, anyroad – killed, they was, all of ’em. Can’t say any more than that.’

They stood out in the road, the wind harsh on their cheeks. Edie felt the woman’s words hammering her, the loathing in them. It mirrored her own feelings. Germans . . . Hitler . . .
Some Kraut woman and her child
. . .

‘D’you want to ask anywhere else?’ Martin said. His voice was very gentle. Even in her stunned state, Edie thought how considerate he was, at his best when people were in distress.

‘I don’t think so. Not today.’ They walked slowly back, all they had heard sinking in gradually.

‘Does this mean . . .?’ Edie spoke suddenly. ‘What does it mean? That Davey’s German, that his family, his mom, were German?’

‘It sounds like it. When you fit it all together. Some of the neighbours might know more – people who were closer to them. But by the sound of it they were refugees from Germany.’ He stopped and put his hand on her arm. ‘It looks as if Davey was rescued more than once if they’d escaped over here. I would think he might really be Jewish after all.’

They drove back to Linden Road, talking in snatches, trying to fit together the little information they had. Frances’s face was anxious as they walked in, especially as Edie’s own expression gave away the fact that they had plenty to tell her.

They found themselves whispering in the hall.

‘Where’s Davey?’ Edie asked.

‘Upstairs. Busy with something or other. Come through to the kitchen – I’ll put the kettle on.’ Frances limped ahead of them, tutting at the pain in her hip.

As the water boiled they sat at the kitchen table and talked in low voices. Martin told Frances about Mr Ryman, and when it came to the lady next door, Edie took over. She described the remains of the house.

‘The lady didn’t like them – she was horrible about them really, wasn’t she, Martin? Thing is, Frances, she said they were conchies . . .’

‘Were they?’ Frances exclaimed.

‘She said they were called Bowles and they’d taken in a German woman and her child – so that must’ve been Davey.’

Frances sat up very straight.

‘Bowles? Where was this?’

‘Wellington Road,’ Martin said.

‘Bowles . . . Bowles – of course! But they were Friends! The ones whose house was hit! Of course, she was a CO. She’d evidently been a pacifist even in the Great War. I mean Serena Bowles was getting on in age. I didn’t know her very well, but I know she’d been a widow for years. And they were bombed out, d’you remember me telling you? She was one of the ones who’d taken in refugees. There was a whole family first of all, until they found somewhere else to live. And then she evidently took in a young Jewish woman from Berlin.’

They all looked at each other, struggling to work out the implications of this. The newsreels from the Nazi concentration camps had come to them on the cinema screens – snatches of an unimaginable hell. Was that the fate from which the young woman from Berlin had escaped? Edie felt an immediate, poignant sympathy for her. And who had she left behind in Germany, and what had become of them?

‘Oh, Frances,’ she whispered. ‘How will it help my Davey to know this? Does he need to know?’

After a silence Frances sighed. ‘Yes, darling. In the end, I think he does.’

Edie was dreading Janet and Martin leaving for Africa, far more than she could admit to them. She wanted to hold on to every day of the last weeks before they went, but the time spun past, and of course the Ferrises were busy with their preparations. Though she had joked about it at New Year, with all the sudden upheaval among her friends, Edie had suddenly begun to feel stuck and restless, and added to this was her dread of having to speak to David.

The Monday before Janet and Martin were due to leave she walked to work feeling very low. On the Sunday Janet had cooked a lovely joint of roast pork and asked them all over. ‘Not to say goodbye,’ she said tearfully. ‘Definitely
au revoir
.’ On Saturday they’d board the train to Liverpool, then the boat, to sail all those miles across the water to somewhere impossibly far away that Edie could barely imagine. They’d write, of course they would, but it wasn’t the same at all. She felt that a long, happy phase of her life was ending, irrevocably.

Turning in through the factory gates, amid the other workers coming on shift, her heart sank even further at the thought of Ruby going away to see the Sorensons in July.

Overall on, she made her way to her work station. In this time of change Cadbury’s felt more than ever like her family, the thread of stability in her life, but even at work there had been changes. After the war the extended sugar shortage kept rationing going on and off until only two years ago. There were more new lines, like ‘Fudge’ – a particular favourite of Davey’s – and Edie had worked on some of the ‘Vogue’ chocolates which had gone into the displays for the Coronation, and this was the line she was weighing out today in preparation for packing. She settled herself rather disconsolately into her place on the line, her autumn leaf hair tucked under the white cap. In front of her was a large white scale and beside her the belt with the chocolates in tidy rows, cooled after passing through the enrobing machine which draped the fillings with a warm layer of brown sweetness. She tried to concentrate, but her mind wandered immediately.

Here I am again, day after day. I wonder if I could’ve gone to the grammar school like Davey and gone on to better things? Anyway it was far too late for that. She’d done well in her eleven plus, but Nellie said she wasn’t having her swanning off to the grammar school, demanding posh uniforms and getting above herself. She’d been a bit disappointed, but then she’d gained her place at Cadbury’s and had been very content here, especially when she had Ruby and Janet. They’d been such good pals here for so long. She sighed.

I know Ruby’s only going for a fortnight, she thought, but to
America
. I’d never even been as far as London until I went with Davey.

Her mouth twitched into a brief smile. He was so fascinated by machines. They’d gone to the Festival of Britain in Birmingham, not London. Aged twelve he’d been the one to lead her round Bingley Hall, completely dismissing some areas of the exhibition and lingering for ages in front of the huge gas turbine and the other machines in the ‘Discovery and Design’ and ‘People at Work’ sections. Seeing his deep delight, the next year she took him to the Motor Show at Earls Court, though for herself she would rather have made the journey to London for the Coronation to wave a flag in the Mall. Instead they watched on a neighbour’s television, with everyone crowded in to see. But now Davey was growing up too – up and away from her. And how much more might he distance himself from her when she found the moment to tell him what she knew about his background? She kept putting it off and, as ever, when this thought occured to her, it seemed to wash over her like a freezing wave.

Saying goodbye to Janet and Martin seemed one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Dr Weller had promised to drive them to the station.

‘I had to think hard what to wear,’ Janet said, pushing her hair back from her face as she checked the catches on her suitcase. She stood up, flushed. ‘I mean I’m wearing my warm coat today but will I need it again? Let alone stockings!’

‘Never mind,’ Frances said. ‘You’ll need it when you come back for visits.’

Edie heard her determination to be cheerful and calm, but she knew that if this was difficult for her, it was infinitely more so for Frances. Robert came round occasionally with his children, but they had nothing like the closeness that she had with Janet.

‘My arms feel like pincushions after all those injections!’ Janet chattered on, trying to cover up her own turmoil of feelings about leaving. ‘And I haven’t been at all sure what to pack: a few shirtwaister dresses and some sensible shoes . . . That sounds rather like a missionary’s wardrobe, doesn’t it?’

‘Well, I suppose you are a missionary,’ Edie said. ‘Sort of.’

‘Yes – but I don’t have to
dress
like one!’

‘Stalwart underwear,’ Frances said, laughing.

Martin, who had been gathering last-minute things together, came up and put his arm round Janet’s shoulders.

‘Ready?’ he asked softly. ‘Jonathan’s waiting.’

Janet nodded determinedly.

‘It’ll be a tremendous adventure,’ Frances spoke briskly and held her arms out. ‘Goodbye, my love. Write to us as soon as you can. We’ll be dying to hear.’

In her mother’s arms, Janet said moistly, ‘Oh, I will, I will!’

Edie, who didn’t have Frances’s self-control, sobbed as she hugged her friend.

‘I wish you weren’t going, but I hope you have a lovely time all the same.’

‘Oh!’ Janet was crying in earnest now. ‘Edie, I’ll miss you so much! But I know you’ll look after Mummy and that’s a great comfort.’

Edie found herself caught up in Martin’s arms and he kissed her cheek.

‘All the best, Edie.’ He smiled fondly.

‘You look after her,’ Edie sniffed, trying to smile. ‘That’s my best friend you’ve got there!’

‘Oh, I shall – don’t you worry.’

David, awkward with adolescent shyness, was also hugged emotionally by Janet and Martin shook his hand.

‘Bye, old chap – and you take care of your mother now, won’t you?’

And a few moments later, with the suitcases stowed, they were driving off along Valentine Road, waving madly. The car turned slowly right into the Moseley Road and suddenly they were gone. As Edie moved away she saw Frances still staring after them along the street, and knew that her thoughts were travelling with them in the car, to the dock, to the wide blue sea.

And the Cadbury girls were down to two.

It didn’t seem any time before she was waving Ruby goodbye as well, with Marleen and Greta both in a state of high excitement about going on an aeroplane for the first time, and of being spoiled rotten by the Sorensons when they reached America.

‘Greta’s hardly slept the last few nights,’ Ruby told her as they parted outside the factory gates shortly before they left. Ruby was looking very bonny, her plump white arms protruding from a sleeveless summer frock and bright green high-heeled shoes which she’d slipped on after work, along with the lipstick. Edie was struck by how mature she looked. We’re both thirty-four, she thought, but I still look like a girl who hasn’t grown up properly. I know I’ve filled out a little bit, but Rube looks so mature! Fondly, she wished them all a good trip.

‘You going to bring back another nice Yank back with you, eh?’

‘Ooh, I don’t know about that!’ Ruby chuckled, backing off down the road. ‘Don’t know as I’ll have time for that sort of thing with the girls around, or my “in-laws”! More’s the pity! See yer, kid!’

‘See yer.’ Edie waved.

She walked off into the warm evening, hearing the carillon ring out its sweet chime in the distance. The sun was setting and the light was soft and golden over Bournville Green. She stopped for a moment, breathing in the scented summer air and smiling fondly at the sight of the Continuation Schools where she and Ruby had begun their working life together. There had been so much laughter and happiness, and yet tonight she felt melancholy. So many years, gone so fast. And those intense years of Davey’s childhood when he had wanted and needed her had slipped away. Now he had long surpassed her, in knowledge and in his understanding of things. He was so intelligent, his teachers said. He should think of going to the university, would be sure to go far.

Far, she thought wistfully. Why does everyone have to go far? Why can’t they be content? I wonder if he’ll have gone so far one day that he’ll never want to see me?

The train chugged its way at an unhurried, rocking pace through the Welsh countryside. Outside its windows, the sun appeared dazzlingly every so often between foamy piles of cloud, shining on sheep nibbling the sparse hillside grass. Every so often they stopped at a small country station. They had the compartment to themselves, Edie sitting opposite Frances and David. Frances had begun the journey from Shrewsbury by reading the newspaper, but after they had eaten some of their ham sandwiches and the day grew even warmer, her grip on the paper grew slack and now she was sleeping, leaning on the headrest by the window. She had not woken when the ticket collector slid the door open and asked to see their tickets. Edie looked across at her, feeling protective. In repose, Frances’s face still kept much of its rather noble beauty, but it was undoubtedly slacker, more aged. Her skin had lately acquired a more fragile quality. Edie sometimes felt afraid looking at her. Janet’s departure seemed to have added years to her all of a sudden.

When she turned her gaze away from the window to look at David, though, her emotions altered from tenderness to nervousness and tension. He was oblivious to her looking at him. Nose in a book as usual, she thought. Shutting me out. She tried to see what he was reading but couldn’t make out the title. She didn’t like the uncomfortable, bitter feelings she found in herself sometimes these days. Was she jealous of his books, for goodness sake? It was ridiculous! But so often now he seemed to be walled round by the pages of books, and when he did emerge from behind them he could be so distant and moody, sometimes very sarcastic, when Frances wasn’t within earshot. He was never intentionally rude to Frances. She had always commanded his respect and affection. Edie was most ashamed when she realized that sometimes she was even a bit jealous of Frances. Was it because he knew she wasn’t a blood relation? Why was Davey only so cruel to her, his mother?