Only a Mother Knows (37 page)

‘We took the place of another ship as we were desperate to replenish our stores.’

‘Is the other ship HMS …’

‘Sally, you know I can’t tell you any more, I wish I could,’ Callum said, giving her hand a little squeeze. She quickly pulled away as if she had touched something hot, standing just as soon as the kettle boiled. She had to stay calm, act naturally, and treat Callum like any other friend … Except he wasn’t just any other friend.

‘I know you can’t say much,’ she said, suddenly embarrassed for putting Callum in an awkward situation and was a little relieved when she heard Tilly’s voice coming to the kitchen.

‘I was just telling Dulcie how beautiful her coat is, wasn’t I, Dulcie?’ Tilly blithely exclaimed whilst Sally, grateful for the interruption, gasped in awe at the mink wallaby coat swinging about Dulcie’s neat, if somewhat rounded, figure. Clearly no points were needed for luxury coats like this one.

‘I’ve been sent to get you back into the front room, please,’ Dulcie announced, pirouetting as best she could for maximum effect, before leading them through.

‘I feel quite envious,’ Tilly admitted. Some of the ATS girls had been given such presents after being seen on the arms of American servicemen, who could well afford mole or beaver coney this Christmas, although at seven or eight guineas a pop that would be way out of the price range of most members of the British armed services.

‘David bought it for me, isn’t it fabulous?’ Dulcie gave a little twirl and everybody laughed.

‘Well, come on, everybody, let’s open our presents,’ said Olive when she saw her daughter’s wistful expression.

‘Oh, Mum, that’s lovely,’ Tilly breathed as she opened the newspaper parcel to reveal a beautiful cable-stitched cardigan with short puffed sleeves that her mother had knitted.

‘With everything so scarce it’s about all I could manage this year,’ said Olive, knowing that for some there would be a savings card, containing just two red half-crown stamps as there were so many people to buy for this year. But, she realised, the most precious gift that she could give was that of her time, and she had plenty of that to offer.

‘Oh, Mum, you have done so well this year, as always.’

‘I did have a lot of help,’ Olive said and her smile grew even wider when she opened her present from Tilly, a pair of real leather gloves, which she immediately put on. ‘They are beautiful, and so soft! I’ll wear them for best.’

‘Wear them all the time,’ Tilly exclaimed and they all cheered when Olive said she would but not whilst making high tea. ‘And I’m just going to get it started now.’

Olive looked up to the heavens as she closed the blue and apple-green gingham curtains that were beginning to look a little faded now, after all these years.

‘What are you doing out here, alone in the dark?’ Archie asked as he entered the kitchen. Then, realising he had interrupted a quiet moment he said, ‘I know, it is difficult for all of us at this time of year when we remember the ones who have gone before us. I didn’t mean to intrude, and I am so sorry, Olive.’

And as he turned to go, Olive caught Archie’s sleeve. He stopped, turning towards her, and for a long moment the silver strands of moonlight shone through the blackout and in through the kitchen window, reflecting on their spellbound faces.

‘You didn’t intrude, Archie,’ Olive whispered as the moment of magic was broken by footsteps coming towards the kitchen. ‘Don’t ever think you are intruding.’ Olive yearned for her hammering heart to ease.

‘I thought Ted was going to come and pick you up and take you to his mother’s flat for the evening, Alice?’ Tilly asked a little later.

‘His mum still isn’t well, and I think he’s a bit embarrassed to tell you the truth.’

‘Why do you say that?’ Tilly gave her friend a quizzical look.

‘He said he knew he couldn’t match last year when Drew had all those expensive gifts delivered, so he was under a bit of a black cloud.’

‘He’s a proud man, Agnes,’ Tilly said with a little shake of her head, ‘but surely his sisters are old enough now to know the situation the country, let alone Ted, is in?’

Agnes decided to let her friend into a little secret. ‘I blame Mrs Jackson,’ she whispered. ‘It sounds like she wants to keep her family so close to her that she plays on Ted’s good nature. And sometimes a man can’t see he’s being manipulated, especially by his mother.’ Agnes immediately covered her mouth with her hand as if to stop even more treacherous words from escaping and the two girls laughed. She was so glad that Tilly was home and they could share a good old natter. They were like sisters now and Agnes felt she could always speak her mind to Tilly.

‘You say what you like in here, Agnes.’ Tilly laughed. ‘Nobody in this family is going to judge you and if you feel that Ted’s mother is taking the mick then you must tell him so.’

‘Oh, I’m not sure …’ Agnes offered, feeling she had already said too much.

‘Well, otherwise he’ll keep you dangling for years and have the best of both worlds – a loving girlfriend on one hand, and a pandering mother on the other, both fighting for a crumb of attention – and he’ll have the freedom to do as he pleases.’

‘Oh, Ted’s not like that,’ Agnes protested, jumping to his defence.

‘I’ve heard the girls talking back at camp, and some of them have been through a fine old time, I can tell you …’ Tilly suddenly stopped when she saw tears in Agnes’s eyes. ‘Oh, Agnes, I didn’t mean to upset you, honestly.’

‘You haven’t upset me,’ Agnes said, giving her nose a good blow on one of the two ‘new’ embroidered handkerchiefs that Olive had made for her, ‘but I do feel as if I play second fiddle to Ted’s family … and I know I shouldn’t moan, he’s such a lovely man …’

‘You moan away, girl,’ said Tilly, whose outlook was much broader since she had joined the ATS.

‘It’s just that … I’ve never had anyone to call my own before,’ Agnes sniffed. ‘I think Ted’s mum sees me as a threat.’

‘That woman is the limit, and what does Ted have to say about it all?’

It was obvious to Agnes that Tilly wasn’t impressed by Mrs Jackson, or even Ted, if what she was coming out with now was anything to go by.

‘You could be a valuable part of that family if only he would open his eyes to his mother’s wily ways.’

‘She doesn’t want anybody to come between her and her family,’ Agnes explained.

‘Well, she’s going the right way about it and no mistake! As far as I’m concerned she couldn’t get a better daughter-in-law-to-be, that’s all I can say.’

‘Oh, Tilly, I do wish you didn’t have to go back tomorrow.’

‘Keep this under your hat,’ said Tilly in a low whisper, ‘it’s not final yet, so don’t say anything to Mum, okay?’ Agnes nodded as Tilly turned and checked the door to make sure nobody was coming in. ‘I’m being posted somewhere when I go back, and I have no idea where, but it might be abroad.’ Her face was a light with excitement and Agnes felt her heart sink.

Only a Mother Knows

‘’Bye, Agnes!’ Tilly was frantically waving, laughing as the train pulled out of the station, wondering when they would ever be together again like that.

‘Come back home soon!’ Olive called, as the train pulled out of the station on a mournful whistle and a billowing cloud of grey-white smoke. Tilly hung out of the window until she could see her mother and Agnes no more and then she took her seat, surrounded by other service personnel seemingly submerged in wretched contemplation. It would be lovely if she got her posting to London, as she had requested, but she suspected she was going overseas … Her thoughts drifted as her eyelids grew heavy. She’d only had a couple of hours’ sleep, after staying up most of the night talking to Agnes. Fancy Agnes having a father, after all this time …

As the train disappeared, Agnes and Olive made their way out of Waterloo station and caught the tram back to Chancery Lane tube station before they said goodbye, and Agnes went to report for duty in the booking office.

‘I’ll see you later, Agnes,’ Olive called. ‘Hopefully I’ll be able to find somewhere that will sell me a loaf of bread for tea.’

‘You’ll be lucky, Olive, but don’t worry, we can do without for a change.’ Agnes gave a little laugh and disappeared into the station, hoping she and Ted would be on the same break later. It being Boxing Day there weren’t that many people about.

Strangely, she hadn’t missed him nearly as much yesterday as she thought she would, realising she didn’t have to mind her Ps and Qs half as much when he wasn’t around, then, feeling that wriggling worm of guilt in the pit of her stomach, she scolded herself for having such treacherous thoughts – Ted thought the world of her.

But Agnes was not feeling so brave about her new style now. Briefly patting her hair, she wondered what Ted would think of her new Liberty Cut? Tilly had cut it into the same semi-shingled style as her own, tapered into the back of her neck whilst the top was left long enough to set in large S-shaped finger waves, and she had made a very good job of it too, Agnes thought, glad she’d had it done.

The new style made her feel really grown-up. She also felt smarter and her railway cap was a much better fit. However, when she saw Ted’s face at the canteen counter three hours later, it told her he wasn’t as impressed as she was.

‘I don’t hold with women trying to look like men,’ Ted said when they took their seat over in the corner, where he couldn’t be overheard and looking everywhere but in her direction.

‘I thought it was more practical, Ted, I wanted to surprise you.’ Agnes felt her spirits fall; they hadn’t seen each other properly for two whole days and she thought he’d be pleased.

‘There was nothing wrong with your hair before,’ Ted protested, giving her new style the briefest of derisory glances.

‘But, Ted, it’s all the fashion with all the girls in the Forces now; it’s called the Liberty Cut.’

‘Well, you’re not in the Forces, Agnes, and it is certainly that – a right blooming liberty, that’s what I say. And I don’t care what you say, Agnes, it ain’t right.’ Ted’s face was growing redder as he spoke. ‘This war is changing everything. Women in trousers – they’ll never be as strong as men no matter what way they have their hair done. I think you’ve all gone power mad.’

‘Oh, Ted, that’s not fair.’ Agnes, heartbroken that she had upset Ted after not seeing him for Christmas, tried to make amends. ‘It’ll grow again in no time – I remember when I was a little girl back in the orphanage, a couple came to see if there was a child that they liked the look of …’

‘Is this relevant, Agnes?’ Ted asked impatiently, looking anywhere but at her.

‘No, Ted, I suppose not.’ Her voice dissolved to nothing as she started to drink her tea.

On the last day of nineteen forty-two Sally sailed around the ward as if she was floating on a cloud. She had received a much-awaited letter from George, who was a man of few words and no mistake. Nevertheless, Sally enjoyed the thoughtful, often amusing anecdotes of his fellow officers that always brought a wide smile to her lips and a feeling of joyful contentment, not to mention an extra spring in her step. She promised that as soon as she was off-duty she would reply straight away.

Nothing could spoil her day now, she thought, not even when she discovered another batch of patients ready to fill the ward that had been emptied only hours before. Sally didn’t worry or panic – nothing was a bother.

Then, casting her usual exacting eyes across the regimental row of freshly made iron beds, Sally gave a nod of approval to the nurses waiting to tender care and attention to the military patients lined up on stretchers outside in the corridor.

‘Right, we are ready now, go to it,’ Sally said briskly, looking up as Matron came swiftly down the corridor towards her. This was unusual; Matron made a point of never hurrying, as it caused unnecessary anxiety amongst the wounded and staff alike.

‘Sister, there is a telephone call for you in my office,’ she said very grimly, and Sally felt her heart sink, knowing Matron did not allow personal telephone calls whilst they were on duty.

‘I am so sorry,’ Sally began, but was silenced by the light touch of Matron’s hand on her shoulder and a seemingly understanding, even sympathetic shake of her head that told Sally not to give it another thought, which, to Sally’s acutely intelligent observation, did not usually mean good news …

Hurrying down the corridor towards Matron’s office she made a mental note to remind the caller, whoever it might be, that she was not allowed personal calls and inform them that this was her place of work and not a social club.

‘No!’ It was the only word Sally could utter as shock waves entered her body and knocked the wind right out of her. She wasn’t aware of the Bakelite telephone receiver falling from her hands and onto the floor, nor did she register the impact of Matron’s desk as the full force of it caught her head when blackness overcame her.

‘Sister! Sister, come along now!’

The no-nonsense, if somewhat far-off, voice was coming from Matron, along with the pungent whiff of smelling salts being wafted under her nose, making Sally cough and splutter her way back to consciousness. For a moment she wondered what had happened.

‘You fainted.’ As Sally opened her eyes, her wavering vision told her that Matron was kneeling beside her and there was real concern in her voice when she said, ‘No, you mustn’t move too quickly, here, try a little of this.’ Sally felt the rim of a glass being put to her lips and she took a small sip of ice-cold water. The coldness seemed to bring her back to her senses when she realised that she wasn’t dreaming nor was she in the middle of a horrid nightmare, she really had taken the call.

‘George is dead!’ Sally turned onto her side, still on the floor, away from Matron, and curled up into a tight ball. And for a moment there was no sound in Matron’s immaculately clean office that smelled of a mixture of mansion polish and ether, and she lay there frozen, taking in the news, trying to digest the implications – but she couldn’t, this was too big, too overwhelming, as big as the day she had been told her mother had died. The day Morag and Callum had taken her into their arms and cried with her. But there was no Morag any more. Her friend had gone even before Hitler’s bombs had claimed her, along with her father. Dragging herself to her knees and crouching into a rocking position, Sally’s hands covered her face as a low keening wail emanated from the very depths of her soul.