Home Front Girls (23 page)

When they arrived back at Euston in time for her to catch her train she told him sincerely, ‘Thank you for another wonderful day.’

Again he was struck by how young and naïve she was. ‘I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it,’ he told her. ‘And if ever you and your friends fancy a weekend in London, just say the word and you can stay at my flat. In your own rooms, of course,’ he said quickly, not wishing her to get the wrong idea. ‘It’s just a shame that there’s a war on. You haven’t really seen London at its best, but then I dare say everywhere is the same at the moment.’

She nodded in agreement as her train wheezed into the station. ‘I’d better go and get aboard then,’ she told him awkwardly. ‘I don’t want it going without me, do I?’ In actual fact she couldn’t think of a single thing that she would have liked more, but she couldn’t tell him that, of course.

‘I’ll write to you just as soon as Laura and I have had time to look at your manuscript,’ he promised. ‘And in the meantime, ring me next week so that we can talk about next month’s story.’

‘I will.’ She stood uncertainly for a moment, resisting the urge to peck him on the cheek, then turned and fled – and as he watched her go, he smiled fondly.

Lucy began to rush home from work each evening to check on Mrs P. She was a changed woman since receiving the telegram informing her that Freddy was missing, and seemed to spend half her time on the doorstep now looking for signs of the postman. She was convinced that he was going to bring her good news, saying that Freddy was in hospital or had been taken prisoner. But each day left her sadly disappointed and a little more withdrawn from the world. It was Lucy now who took her ration books each week to get her shopping and helped her with her washing and ironing.

‘I really appreciate this, lass,’ Mr P told her one Sunday morning as Lucy fed a clean white sheet through the mangle in the back yard before pegging it onto the line where it flapped like a living thing in the breeze. ‘If it weren’t fer you over the last few weeks I doubt we’d have so much as a clean towel in the whole house. An’ her allus so houseproud before.’

As he shook his head sadly Lucy’s heart went out to him. But she didn’t have time to stand and chat. It was a Sunday, and still as regular as clockwork she disappeared off at the same time every Sunday afternoon without a mention of where she was going. Mrs P missed having Mary as she had used to. At one time the woman had been consumed with curiosity and had tried everything to get it out of the girl but nowadays she had more pressing things to worry about, namely her son.

‘It’s all right, Mr P,’ Lucy puffed as another wet sheet fell into her arms. ‘It’s the least I can do after all you and Mrs P have done for us. And try not to worry too much. I’m sure she’ll come through this eventually.’

‘Let’s hope yer right, wench,’ he remarked as he jammed tobacco into the bowl of his pipe.

Once the washing was done and Lucy was sure that the couple had all they needed, she hurried across the yard and into her own house where she hastily changed before rushing off.

‘There she goes again,’ Mrs P remarked from her seat in the front window. Her husband had told her that there was no post on Sunday, but it made no difference.

Over in her flat, Dotty was composing the second letter of the week to Robert. They wrote to each other so regularly now that the letters sometimes crossed in the post, and lately they had become more intimate.

I’m so looking forward to seeing you again
, he had written in his last letter.
Is there no chance of you coming for a whole weekend? You could stay at my flat and you would be very welcome. There are so still so many places of interest you haven’t seen.

The very thought of it made her heart pound, although she wasn’t too sure what Miss Timms might think of it! A young unmarried girl staying with a bachelor? Dotty giggled as she thought of the woman’s reaction, although she knew that now she was no longer in the kindly woman’s care it was really none of Miss Timms’s business what Dotty did with her spare time. But she had no wish to upset her, although the offer was very tempting. And of course she realised that Robert was only inviting her as a friend – so what could be the harm in that? Dotty knew that she and Robert could never be anything other than friends. They had come from different worlds. He had had a private education and been brought up in the lap of luxury from what she could make of it, and besides that, he was so much older than her. And of course, on top of that it was clear that he and Laura were close too. Just the thought of the woman made Dotty scowl. Laura had always gone out of her way to make her feel welcome each time they had met and yet Dotty still felt inadequate and dull in her company. She wished that things could have been different.

‘That’s it then!’ Annabelle threw her last pair of nylon stockings down in a temper. ‘They’re laddered too! What am I going to wear?’

‘Woollen ones like the rest of us,’ her mother answered drily from the settee where she was darning a pair of her own stockings.

‘Oh, I’m so
sick
of this having to make do and mend,’ Annabelle complained bitterly. ‘I’ll be damned glad when this rotten war is over. Nothing is any fun any more. It’s just work and bed!’

‘I dare say your father and our boys at the front are saying the very same thing,’ her mother said acidly. ‘And I dare say they have a lot more to worry about than we do. Like staying alive for a start-off.’

Annabelle had the good grace to flush. Put that way, she supposed that having to do without nylon stockings was petty, but she still hated the fact that they were no longer readily available.

‘Lucy was saying that Mrs P has been unravelling all her family’s old jumpers and cardigans and then reusing the wool to knit larger ones for them,’ she commented.

‘A lot of people are doing that,’ Miranda said. ‘Most of the new wool is being used to make uniforms for the forces now. But what are you getting dressed up for? Are you going out?’

‘Yes. I thought I’d go and see Dotty for an hour or two,’ Annabelle sighed. ‘There’s not much else to do, is there? And it’s no good going to see Lucy. She still disappears every Sunday afternoon and we have no idea where she goes.’ She stared musingly off into space for a moment before asking, ‘Do you think she’s going to meet a boyfriend?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. Not after the way you told me she reacted to that young man at the dance. Perhaps she’s going to visit a relative?’

‘No, she isn’t. She told me and Dotty that since losing her parents she only has Mary and Joel.’ Annabelle frowned as she thought of Joel. It seemed such a long time since she had seen him and sometimes now it was hard to picture his face.

‘I expect Dotty will be mooning over Robert again when I get there,’ she said next. ‘Between you and me, I think she’s rather smitten with him – although she won’t admit it.’

Miranda had grown very fond of Lucy and Dotty in the previous months and she grinned. ‘Well, he’s certainly pushing the boat out to help her. Didn’t you say that he’d forwarded Dotty’s novel to an editor friend of his?’

‘Yes, he has, but she hasn’t heard what the editor thinks of it yet. She’s almost finished it now. Always typing away, she is.’ Annabelle pulled a face. ‘Apart from at work and on the night we do the first aid course at the Red Cross I hardly get to see her now, although I have persuaded her to come and see a film at the Rex in a couple of weeks’ time.’

Miranda hid a smile. All three girls had regularly attended the first aid classes, but it was Annabelle who seemed to be getting the most out of it – which had come as a complete surprise to her mother, for Annabelle rarely took an interest in anything other than her appearance.

‘Well, if you must go out, just try and be back in before it gets dark,’ her mother advised, and with a nod Annabelle hurried away to finish getting ready. It was when she came back downstairs that Miranda suddenly told her, ‘By the way, there’s a letter that came for you yesterday. I’m so sorry, darling, but I’d forgotten all about it. You’ll find it on the dresser in the kitchen.’

Annabelle’s heart began to thump. Could it be from Joel? Closing the kitchen door after her, she snatched up the letter and instantly saw from the postmarks that it was. Tearing it open with fingers that were suddenly trembling, she began to read, and as she did so her eyes filled with tears.

Dear Belle,

Sorry I haven’t been able to write for a while. Things are pretty grim out here as you might imagine. I sometimes wonder if we’ll ever come home.
(The next two lines had been censored but then it continued.)
One of the chaps I’m serving with became a father last month and he still hasn’t seen his new baby yet. It’s so sad. But then I suppose I shouldn’t complain. At least we are still alive, which is a lot more than can be said of some of the chaps I came out here with. I have seen things that I don’t think I shall ever be able to forget. I miss Mary and Lucy more than I can say and pray that they are both well. And you too, of course. Perhaps when I come home we might go to see a film or something? If you are still free, that is. I don’t know when I might be able to write again but I pray that you are well and think of you often. Look after yourself.

Love

Joel

Annabelle blinked – he had signed the letter
Love, Joel
! The last one had ended in
Kind regards
. Could it be that he felt the same attraction for her as she did for him? And he had asked her if they might go to a film together. She thumped the table in frustration then. If only she could have written back to him, as he sounded very down – but of course that was impossible. He probably didn’t know where he was going to be from one day to another. But then she smiled. At least she knew now that he hadn’t forgotten about her. In a slightly happier frame of mind she put on her coat and set off.

It was well after teatime when Mrs P noticed Lucy hurry past her front window on her way home. Mrs P frowned. It was unusual for the girl not to call in, but perhaps she was going to take her coat off first. The weather had certainly taken a turn for the better, which was something to be thankful for at least. Shrugging, she turned her attention back to the cardigan she was knitting for Beryl, her youngest.

An hour later, when Lucy had still not put in an appearance, she asked Fred, ‘Pop round next door, would yer love, an’ just check that young Lucy is all right? It ain’t like her not to call in from wherever it is she disappears off to every Sunday.’

Fred gave a long-suffering sigh as he folded the
New of the World
. He knew better than to argue with his Gladys nowadays. If he so much as said a wrong word he got his head bitten off.

Without a word he let himself out of the back door and crossed the yard, avoiding banging his shoulder on the tin bath that hung outside the back door. It always upset him to see it. Sundays had always been bath night for the kids before they’d been evacuated and the house had always rung with laughter as Freddy, Barry and Beryl took it in turns to bathe in front of the fire. Then Gladys would grip each of the younger ones’ heads between her knees in turn as she went through their hair with a fine-toothed nit comb. It was funny how he missed the little things he had always taken for granted.

Pausing at Lucy’s back door, he lifted his hand to knock, then stopped himself. He could see her through the window sitting at the table and it looked as if she was crying. He shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot. Perhaps it was ‘women’s things’ as his missus always called them. At certain times of the month she would have a weepy time and walk about like a bear with a sore head, although now that he came to think about it, she was like that pretty much all of the time now. He hovered, wondering what to do, but then decided that he’d rather face Lucy than his Glad if he hadn’t done as she asked.

Lucy glanced up at the first knock and he saw that his assumption was correct. She had been crying but she hastily swiped the back of her hands across her cheeks before hurrying through the kitchen to let him in.

‘Are you all right, love?’ he asked timidly, and to his horror she burst into tears again. Quickly placing his arm about her shaking shoulders he led her through into the kitchen and plonked her down on the chair.

‘Er . . . can I get you a drink o’ water or somethin’?’ He felt totally useless and didn’t know what to do.

‘N-no, thank you.’ Lucy gulped as he looked helplessly on. ‘I-I just had some bad news this afternoon but I’ll be fine, honestly. You get back to Mrs P.’

‘Well, if you’re quite sure.’ He then turned and fled.

‘So why ain’t she been round then?’ Mrs P demanded the second he set foot back through the door.

‘I ain’t got a clue, Glad,’ he answered, ‘but the lass is in a rare old state, I don’t mind tellin’ yer. Sobbin’ ’er little heart out she is, an’ you know I ain’t no good in situations like that.’

Mrs P’s knitting needles stopped clicking as she stared at him. ‘Didn’t yer ask her what were wrong then?’

‘Course I did,’ he defended himself. ‘But all she’d say were that she’d had some bad news. P’rhaps it would be better if you went round.’ He secretly hoped that she would. She hadn’t gone over the doorstep since the day they’d had the telegram about Freddy, and even going across the yard would be a start, surely?