Home Front Girls (29 page)

‘I appreciate the offer, Robert, but I’m all right, really. And I still have my job to go to, which is something.’

‘Hmm.’ He didn’t sound too happy about things. ‘Then I shall come to you on Thursday instead of you coming to me. You won’t have the money for the fare now so I shall bring you some cash to tide you over,’ he said in a voice that told her he wouldn’t take no for an answer. ‘And we’ll go shopping and get you some new clothes and basic essentials too. You must have lost everything.’

‘I have,’ she admitted, fighting back the tears which were always dangerously close to erupting at the moment. ‘But I don’t want you spending your money on me. It wouldn’t be right.’

‘Very well then, if you feel like that I shall give you an advance on your fees. Shall we say the next twelve months?’

‘But a lot of my stories were in the flat,’ she explained in a small voice.

He snorted. ‘That’s the least of your worries. You can write some more, and luckily I have quite a few here that you gave me to look at, so you won’t be under any immediate pressure.’

Once again Dotty thought what a remarkable man he was and she felt slightly better. And at least she could look forward to seeing him again now. It would give her something to focus on.

Mrs P was highly relieved too, when Lucy walked through the door.

‘Yer look like somethin’ the cat’s dragged in, love!’ she exclaimed, drawing Lucy towards the settee. ‘Wherever have yer been? I thought yer were goin’ to Annabelle’s, so how have yer got in this state?’

The girl quickly explained as Mrs P put the kettle on to boil and the woman sighed. ‘It’s a bad do, ain’t it? But then I think we all knew deep down that it were comin’. An’ accordin’ to my Fred, this is only the beginnin’. God help us!’

At that moment someone rapped on the front door and Mrs P looked up. ‘I wonder who that is? Most people I know always come round to the back.’

She pottered away, tightening her flowered pinny about her waist as Lucy sat fighting to stay awake.

Lucy heard her open the front door, but then there was nothing and she started to get concerned. Struggling to climb off the overstuffed settee, she walked into the front room to find Mrs P staring down at a brown envelope in her hand, her face the colour of putty.

‘It’s a telegram,’ she breathed fearfully.

‘Perhaps it’s good news. Perhaps they’ve found Freddy somewhere?’ Lucy said hopefully. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

Mrs P’s head wagged from side to side. ‘I daren’t. Will you open it for me, luvvie?’

With a sick feeling of dread Lucy took the envelope from the woman’s hand. She slit it open with her thumb then quickly read what was written on it before looking at Mrs P gravely.

‘He’s dead, ain’t he?’ Mrs P’s voice was dead too.

Lucy found that she couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat so she merely nodded.

‘I knew it,’ Mrs P muttered. ‘In here I knew it.’ She placed her hand over her heart. ‘Right from the day when we had that first telegram sayin’ he were missin’ I had this empty place inside an’ I knew that he were gone. I’d ’ave felt it if he were still alive, God bless his soul.’

Lucy felt completely and utterly devastated. This, on top of what she had witnessed the night before, was just too much and she had the urge to run away and hide. But of course, she couldn’t do that. Mrs P needed her.

Hurrying out of the front door, she shot off down the next entry where she found Mrs Bloomfield, her next-door-but-one-neighbour hanging out her washing in the yard.

The woman looked at the state of her in amazement, but before she could comment, Lucy gasped out, ‘Mrs Bloomfield, Mrs P has just had some really bad news. Do you think your Eric could go and fetch Mr P from work?’

‘Of course he will, love,’ the woman said, guessing what the bad news was. She had seen the telegram boy through her front window and felt guilty because she was so relieved he hadn’t stopped at her house. Derek, her youngest, was away in the RAF.

Not stopping to thank her, Lucy then ran back to find Mrs P still standing exactly where she had left her. She could hear the kettle whistling its head off and went to switch off the gas.

The next three-quarters of an hour passed interminably slowly as Lucy watched the hands of the clock on the mantelpiece. Mrs P sat where Lucy had put her as if she had been carved in stone, with not a tear in sight, until at last, Mr P burst into the room.

‘So what’s to do then, ducks?’ He threw his snap tin on the table as his wife handed him the telegram and once he had read it, his face crumpled. Then surprisingly it was Mrs P comforting him.

‘Come on now,’ she soothed. ‘It’s strange . . . but I think I’ve already done my grievin’. In fact, in a funny sort o’ way it’s a relief to know what’s happened to him, official-like. I knew he were gone from the time we had the first telegram, but now we can hold a memorial service fer him. Our lad were a hero, Fred, an’ we must
never
lose sight o’ that. We can be proud he died fighting for his country an’ what he believed in.’

She glanced towards the photo of young Freddy standing next to the clock on the mantelpiece all upright and proud in his soldier’s uniform, with a watery smile on her face, and suddenly feeling in the way, Lucy slipped out of the back door leaving the bereaved parents to grieve in privacy.

Robert did manage to get to Coventry on the following Thursday and Dotty as usual was waiting at the station to meet him wearing clothes that she had borrowed from Annabelle.

‘She and her mum have been marvellous to me,’ she told him once they had greeted each other. ‘And they’ve made me feel so welcome. But between you and me it isn’t like having your own front door. I think I might start to look around for another flat to rent soon when things have quietened down. And of course I shall have to get myself another typewriter.’

‘If
they quieten down,’ Robert commented grimly. ‘The newspapers reckon this is only the beginning, which is why I wish you’d come to London with me, Dotty.’

‘But it will be no safer there than it is here,’ Dotty pointed out. ‘And I’ve had no shortage of offers of a home. Miss Timms said I could go and stay with her too, bless her. Her mother died of a heart attack on the night of the raid, although I don’t think it was entirely unexpected. She’s been poorly for a long time, and reading between the lines I think she ran poor Miss Timms ragged. She wasn’t a very easy patient and was quite a strict, highly religious person from the bits that I’ve picked up on. Mind you, she was still her mother at the end of the day, wasn’t she?’

Seeing the sadness that flitted across Dotty’s face, Robert’s heart went out to her. It couldn’t have been easy for her being brought up in an orphanage not knowing who her parents were, or even why they had chosen to abandon her, which was why he was so surprised at how nice Dotty had turned out to be. She didn’t seem to have a single nasty bone in her body and always had a kind word for everyone.

‘How about we head for the centre?’ he suggested now. ‘I’m determined to get you some clothes of your own before I go back. I’ve brought some cash and clothes coupons.’ He tapped his coat pocket and winked at her. ‘You’d be surprised what money can buy, even in wartime. It’s like they say – money talks. Oh, and we’ll get you another typewriter as well while we’re at it. We can’t have you slacking, can we?’

Dotty knew that he was only trying to cheer her up, but she was so down in the dumps that she doubted anything would do that.

Once outside the station they decided to walk into town. It was a beautiful day and they both wanted to take advantage of the sunshine while they could. On their way, Dotty told him all about Mrs Cousins and her children, shedding tears, and he sucked in his breath and squeezed her hand in his good one. Dotty still felt terribly guilty because she hadn’t gone straight home that dreadful night and found the note that poor Mrs Cousins had left for her, and she knew that she always would.

‘Her sister came to fetch her to go and live with her and her family in Wales,’ Dotty said, wiping her eyes, ‘but Mrs Cousins wouldn’t go until they had buried her children. I went to the funeral. Poor thing, I think she’ll always blame herself – if only I had gone straight home!’

‘You couldn’t have known what was going to happen, and she was only doing what she had to do, to feed her children,’ Robert said with no condemnation whatsoever. ‘I think this war is making a lot of people do things that they wouldn’t normally dream of doing.’

Dotty glanced at him in surprise. He was so understanding and kind that he never failed to amaze her.

‘Laura has been worried sick about you too,’ he told her then, and the old familiar jealousy instantly flared up at the mention of her name. Dotty had allowed herself to get a little carried away when he had offered to come and see her, but now she realised once more that he had come merely as a very dear friend and she became silent.

Once in the city centre they went into a café for a cup of tea, then Robert bought her some new clothes so at least she felt as if she had something of her own again, and a typewriter – another second-hand one from a pawnshop as Dotty refused point blank to allow him to buy her a brand new one. Then they headed back to Annabelle’s to unload the purchases, which were far too heavy to carry about for the rest of the day.

‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to catch the four o’clock train home to London,’ Robert told her on the way. ‘Otherwise I might get stranded here. Not all the trains are running.’

Dotty felt a stab of disappointment but knew they would just have to make the best of the time they had.

Miranda greeted them warmly and winked at Dotty as Robert took his coat off, making the girl blush. They settled him in the parlour then went through to the kitchen to make some tea.

‘What a nice-looking young man,’ Miranda said archly. ‘And he’s so polite. I think you may have struck gold there, Dotty.’

‘We’re just friends.’ Dotty blushed an even deeper red.

‘Well,
you
might regard him as a friend – but judging by the way he looks at you, I’d say he regards you as rather more than that,’ Miranda said knowingly.

Dotty felt a flash of irritation. How could Miranda ever imagine that someone like Robert would ever look at her in a romantic light? She was under no illusions; she was a plain Jane and always would be, and she was sure that Robert was in love with Laura. And why shouldn’t he be? she asked herself. Laura was everything that she would have liked to be. But not wanting to upset the woman who had shown her such kindness, she decided that it might be best to ignore the remark and so she busied herself getting the tea tray ready.

‘So what are you two planning on doing for the rest of the day?’ Miranda asked.

‘Oh, we’ll probably just go back into the centre and have a wander around until it’s time for Robert’s train.’

‘You’ll do no such thing!’ Miranda said. ‘You can both stay here. Annabelle’s gone out and I’m going out too, shortly, so you may as well make the best of having the house to yourselves for a while.’

‘Are you quite sure you don’t mind?’ Dotty asked hesitantly.

‘Of course I don’t. Now get that tray into the parlour before it goes cold and I’ll see you later.’

Dotty did as she was told after flashing a grateful smile, and it was as she and Robert were sitting together drinking their tea that he suddenly put his cup down and regarded her seriously.

‘Actually, Dotty, there’s something I need to tell you, which is one of the reasons I’ve come today.’

‘Oh?’ Dotty raised her eyebrow quizzically as Robert looked slightly uncomfortable.

‘The thing is, I know how awful everything has been for you over the last few days and I’m not sure that this is the perfect timing for the news, but . . . . well, the long and the short of it is, Paul, my friend who agreed to look at your book, got in touch with me yesterday and told me that he’d like to publish it.’

Dotty stared at him speechlessly.
‘What?’
she managed to croak eventually. ‘Is this a joke?’

‘It most certainly isn’t,’ Robert assured her. ‘Of course, he wouldn’t discuss your advance or anything like that with me. But he told me that he absolutely loved it and he’d like to meet you at the earliest opportunity.’

Dotty continued to stare at Robert in amazement. Her book was going to be published and she could hardly believe it. After all the terrible things that had happened recently, it was a dream come true.

‘So . . .’ His face broke into a wide smile now. ‘When do you think you’ll be able to come and meet him?’

‘Not before next week,’ Dotty squeaked. ‘I can only make it on a Thursday, my day off. Unfortunately Annabelle, Lucy and myself have lost a few days off work over the last week helping the WVS out. Mrs Broadstairs, our boss, has been very understanding, but I don’t think she would be if she knew I wanted more time to go gallivanting off to London.’

He chuckled. ‘Well, you might not need to work at Owen Owen when you become a bestselling author.’

Dotty didn’t like the sound of that. She enjoyed working in the department store; it was her security and she had no intention of giving her job up.

‘I suppose I could make it next week, that’s if the trains are running all right,’ she said as the wonderful news finally began to sink in.