Moonlight and Ashes (8 page)

Now it was Maggie’s turn to blush. She watched the odd couple stagger away, the girl almost collapsing beneath the weight of the man as she steered him along until they disappeared around the street corner. Why on earth would the girl be selling herself when she had a full-time job in the factory? It made no sense at all, but then Maggie thought back to the night the girl had snapped at her when she tried to walk with her. Whatever her reasons, she obviously didn’t want Maggie to get involved so from now on she would avoid her. After all, she had enough problems of her own.

Get back to yer cosy little hubby . . .
As the girl’s words came back to her, Maggie nearly laughed out loud. Oh yes, she had enough problems of her own, all right. If only Miss Powder an’ Paint could have known.

 

The following morning at work, as Eileen and Maggie chatted in the canteen during their break, the girl appeared and sank down at a nearby table. As usual she kept herself to herself, but her eyes when they caught Maggie’s seemed to be sending an unspoken message.

For some reason, Maggie had chosen not to mention the incident to Eileen and now she was glad that she hadn’t. After draining her mug she rose and said, ‘I’m just off to the lav. I’ll see yer back inside, eh?’

Inhaling deeply on her Park Drive, Eileen nodded as she glanced at the large wall clock. ‘Don’t be long, else you’ll have old May breathin’ fire down yer neck.’ May was the supervisor and known to be a bit of a tyrant.

Some minutes later, as Maggie stood washing her hands at the sink in front of the long row of toilets, the door opened and the girl walked inside.

Maggie had no intention of getting her head bitten off yet again, but as she made to slip past her, the girl nervously caught at the sleeve of her overall.

‘’Ere, about last night - I were wonderin’, could yer keep it to yerself? Seein’ me on the streets, I mean? I’ve no need to tell yer that some o’ the women who work here are hard-nuts an’ they’ll make me life a misery if they get to know I’m on the game.’

Maggie stared into the girl’s haunted face. It was hard to believe that this was the same woman she had caught standing on a street corner. She looked so unhappy. The bruise on her eye had now turned a deep purple colour and without her heavy make-up she looked very young.

‘I’ll not say a word to anyone,’ Maggie murmured, and saw the girl’s look of relief. ‘It’s no business of mine what you get up to.’

She was almost through the door when the girl muttered, ‘Thanks, missus.’ At a loss as to what to make of it all, Maggie picked her way back through the other women to her machine.

 

When she arrived home that evening, she found Sam’s mother sitting at the side of the empty fire-grate.

‘I sent yer mam across the road to see to yer dad’s dinner,’ Beryl Bright informed Maggie, flashing her a smile.

Maggie returned the smile before peeping out of the kitchen window to check on the children, who were all three happily playing in the Anderson shelter.

‘I thought yer might like to know that I had a letter from our David this mornin’.’

Maggie’s heart began to pound but she kept her face straight as she asked, ‘Oh yes, and how is he?’

‘Not so good, to be honest, but at least he’s safe up to now. He’s in Norway, an’ the things he’s seein’ are breakin’ his heart. You know what a big softie he is.’ Beryl fiddled with the fringe of the tablecloth. ‘Apparently, things ain’t good out there. His friend died in his arms a while back. Seems our lads weren’t properly equipped for such Arctic conditions. Let’s just hope this government that Churchill is puttin’ together will help ’em, eh? I tell yer, them bloody Jerries have somethin’ to answer for. Though I suppose we should be grateful they’re leavin’ us alone. If it weren’t fer the rationin’, the black-outs an’ the menfolk bein’ called up left right an’ centre, there might not be a war on fer us.’

‘Let’s just hope it stays that way.’ Maggie thought of what David must be going through. He was such a gentle man, and she could imagine how badly seeing people die in front of his very eyes must be affecting him.

Her mother-in-law reached across to squeeze her hand as she lumbered to her feet. ‘Right, well, I’d best get meself home now yer back. I just thought you’d like to hear he’s safe.’

‘Thank you, that was very kind of you. But aren’t you going to wait and see Sam? He’ll be home from work in a minute.’

Her mother-in-law shook her head. ‘No, there’d be no point. You know me an’ our Sam allus rub each other up the wrong way. How’s he treatin’ you nowadays?’

Maggie felt herself flush, and crossing to the sink she rolled up her sleeves and began to peel some potatoes. ‘Oh, I can’t complain.’

‘Mmm. Still spendin’ half his time in the pub, is he?’ Seeing Maggie’s embarrassment the older woman’s voice softened. ‘I know I shouldn’t say this, Maggie, ’cos they’re both me lads, but life dealt you a bad card when it tied you up to our Sam. Sometimes I can hardly believe that they’re both mine ’cos they’re as different as chalk from cheese. You an’ our David were so right together. If only . . .’

‘Mam, I know yer mean well, but don’t you think it’s a bit late for If Onlys now, all these years on?’

The woman’s chin sank to her chest. ‘Sorry, love. I’ve no wish to rake up old memories. It’s just that . . .’

‘I know.’ Drying her hands, Maggie wrapped the woman in a warm embrace. ‘Now get yourself home. Thanks for everything you’ve done.’

When the door had closed behind her visitor and Maggie was alone for a few minutes, she sank onto a chair and buried her face in her hands.
David was safe.
She’d tried so hard over the last weeks to push thoughts of him from her mind, but now she could no longer deny how much she had missed him. As the tears that she had held back flowed freely, she offered up a silent prayer of thanks.

At the beginning of June, Sam sat in the kitchen with Maggie’s father, drinking beer and listening to Radio Luxembourg report that Operation Dynamo, the great evacuation of Dunkirk, was complete. Maggie hovered nervously in the background as the horrors that the British troops had been forced to endure were described. Crowds on the south-shore coasts were waving Union Jacks and shouting encouragement as the defeated troops returned aboard the huge fleets of destroyers, fishing boats, ferries and any other sea-going vessel that could carry them. All day long they had listened to shocking stories of the decaying corpses that littered the beaches of Dunkirk, and Maggie guessed that for every man who had escaped total annihilation, another poor soul had been left dead or dying. It hardly bore thinking about and her heart was heavy as she thought of all the families who would be grieving that night.

‘Things certainly ain’t lookin’ good now.’ Bill Sharp took a swig of bitter from his glass.

‘Do yer reckon they’ll start the call-ups again?’ This from Sam.

‘Wouldn’t surprise me one little bit,’ Maggie’s father replied stoically. ‘Some o’ them lads won’t be fit to go back after what they’ve bin through, an’ it stands to reason they’ll have to be replaced. This war is a long way from over yet, the way I see it.’

Maggie saw Sam go even paler. For all his bullying ways, she knew her husband was a coward at heart and dreaded the thought of going to war.

A silence, save for the sound of the broadcaster’s voice, settled on the room as they all thought of what might happen in the not too distant future.

 

The following day dawned bright and sunny, but the atmosphere at the Courtaulds factory where Maggie worked was heavy. Machines stood empty and the women rightly guessed that some of their workmates were at home mourning the deaths of loved ones who hadn’t returned from Dunkirk. Eileen had not turned into work either that day, and Maggie kept glancing at her friend’s empty machine. What if her friend’s husband had been hurt or lost? How could she find out? Somewhere tucked deep in her bag she had Eileen’s address, and she decided that during her lunch-break she would pop round and see her. Eileen was a good worker and timekeeper. In fact, now that Maggie came to think about it, she couldn’t recall her losing a single day since she had started at the factory, so there
must
be something very wrong.

With her mind made up, she lowered her head to her work and wished away the hours until lunchtime.

Two hours later found her hurrying down the road where Eileen lived. Number 22 Cox Street, this was it. After wiping her sweaty hand down her skirt, she knocked, but there was no answer. She knocked again, louder this time. After the third knock she began to think that no one was in. She was just about to turn and leave when she heard the sound of a door opening and someone shuffling along the hallway. When the door was opened she had to stop herself from gasping. It was Eileen, but not as Maggie had ever seen her before. Her eyes, usually so bright and sparkling, were dull and red-rimmed and she stared at Maggie as if she hardly knew her.

‘Eileen, love, are you all right?’ But Maggie found herself talking to thin air as Eileen turned and went back the way she had come, leaving the door wide open. Maggie stepped inside and closed the door behind her before following Eileen down the passageway and into a room at the back of the house. It was a bright sunny room that was surprisingly well furnished and decorated. A huge patterned rug covered most of the floor, and round the edges of that, the linoleum shone with polish. In the centre of the rug stood a heavy oak table and matching chairs, and pretty flowered curtains billowed softly in the breeze that blew in from the open window.

‘I was worried about you,’ Maggie said quietly. ‘It’s not like you to miss work.’

Eileen turned to her and silently handed her a telegram. As Maggie’s eyes flew down the page she felt her knees go weak.

‘Oh, Eileen, I don’t quite know what to say.’ Her eyes filled with tears as she looked into her friend’s bereft face.

‘Ain’t much yer can say. It came just after I got in from work last night. My Graham’s dead an’ ain’t nothin’ gonner bring him back, is there?’ Eileen’s voice was as empty as her eyes.

‘Look, you sit down an’ I’ll make us both a nice hot cup of tea, eh?’ Maggie felt the need to do something, and for now that was all she could think of.

‘Huh! Tea, yer say. I reckon I could drown in the bloody stuff I’ve drunk so much through the night, but go on - we may as well have another.’

Maggie stumbled into a small kitchen that was as neat and tidy as the room she had just left, and blindly filled the kettle at the sink. She found a box of Swan Vestas and struck a match then lit the gas ring and put the kettle on to boil. While she was waiting she rummaged around in the cupboards and found two pretty cups and saucers and a matching china teapot. They were so delicate compared to the heavy brown earthenware pot and mugs she used at home that they made her smile.

‘You have a beautiful home, Eileen,’ she called through the open door. When there was no reply she went back into the room to find the young woman standing exactly where she had left her. ‘I said you—’

‘I heard what you said,’ Eileen snapped. ‘But what is it, eh? It’s nothin’ more than bricks an’ mortar an’ fancy trinkets.’ She spread her hands to encompass the room. ‘This place was Graham’s pride an’ joy. He were forever turnin’ his hand to some project or another. Wanted it right fer when the kids come along, he said. But they won’t be comin’ along now, will they?’

As Eileen’s face crumpled, Maggie rushed to her side and wrapped her in her arms. Over Eileen’s shoulder, a photo of a handsome young man in Army uniform seemed to mock her. It had pride of place on the mantelshelf. And this, she rightly guessed, was Graham. Her heart went out to her friend. She wished with all her being that she could think of something to say that would ease Eileen’s pain, but words just seemed so inadequate.

Leading her to a chair she gently pressed her into it before rushing away to make the tea. Ignoring the rationing for once, she put three spoonsful of sugar into Eileen’s cup. She’d heard that hot sweet tea was good for shock. Once she had pressed the cup into her friend’s hands she sat down beside her.

‘At least you still have your home,’ she said softly.

‘An’ what good is this place to me now?’ Eileen’s eyes travelled the room. ‘It don’t mean nothin’ without Graham here to share it with me. I think I might go back to live with me mum.’

‘But your mum lives in Leicester, doesn’t she?’

‘Yes, she does.’

‘I’ll miss you, but I think I can understand how you feel.’

‘Oh no, you can’t! You’ve still got your family at home waitin’ for you. I’ve got no one now. Graham was me whole life. I can’t stay here without him. This place is too full o’ memories.’

Maggie swallowed the painful lump that had formed in her throat. She would miss Eileen more than she could say, yet she understood her need to get away.

‘Is there anything I can do for you before I go back to work?’ she asked helplessly, and suddenly Eileen was crying again and clinging to her as if she was afraid to let her go.

‘Look, I’ll stay here with you for a couple of hours, eh?’ Maggie offered. ‘Has anyone let your mam know what’s happened?’

‘Yes,’ Eileen sniffed between sobs. ‘One o’ the neighbours managed to get through to me dad at work late yesterday afternoon. Him an’ me mam should be here any time now to fetch me.’

‘Fine, then I’ll wait with you until they come.’ Maggie stroked her hair as Eileen leaned her head on her shoulder and there they sat until someone knocked on the door almost an hour later.

Once Eileen’s parents were with her, Maggie shot off up the stairs and hastily began to pack a suitcase with every item of Eileen’s clothing that she could lay her hands on. The couple were kindly; they obviously loved their daughter very much and Maggie was relieved to know that she wouldn’t be alone. Later, as her father loaded her bulging suitcase into the back of his shiny green Morris, Eileen clung to Maggie. ‘Thanks fer stayin’ wi me,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I hope yer don’t get into trouble at work fer not goin’ back in this afternoon.’