Only a Mother Knows (7 page)

‘You are so clever to know that,’ Tilly said, adoration in her eyes.

‘I know, I can’t help it,’ Drew laughed. ‘But come on, we’d better make tracks.’

He was talking about anything he could think of to try to prevent him feeling like the heel he most certainly was, afraid that if there was a moment’s silence between them then he would blurt out the very thing he had been keeping from Tilly all day.

He knew she deserved to be told that he was leaving as soon as he dropped her off home. It was her right to know. But he wasn’t the courageous hero Tilly thought he was. In fact he felt like a spineless rat and not the desert kind like Rick either. Drew was too damned scared to tell the woman he loved that he was going away. And had no idea when he was coming back.

‘Oh, hello, Dulcie, you’re home late,’ Olive said as Dulcie popped her head around the front-room door. ‘I’m glad you’re back safe and sound though, did you manage to get to a shelter?’

Dulcie nodded, unable to say much, and kept the door half-closed, covering herself so as not to alert Olive to her dishevelled clothing and hoping her humiliation didn’t show on her face. She had a splitting headache and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget tonight had ever happened, and she certainly didn’t want to go into the front room where questions might be asked.

‘I was hoping to be able to take a bath, is there any hot water?’

‘Enough for five inches I would say,’ Olive answered, her brows meeting in a troubled frown. ‘Is everything all right, Dulcie?’

‘Fine. Just a bit of a headache,’ Dulcie lied with uncharacteristic calmness. She had a lot to think about and she needed privacy to do it. Thankfully, Olive had the company of Mrs Black from next door and Tilly, who had just come in from fire-watching.

‘I’ll make you a hot cocoa and see if we have something for your headache,’ Olive said, rising from the chair.

‘Maybe later,’ Dulcie said, not wanting any fuss. ‘The bath might do the trick. I won’t be long,’ she managed to add as she closed the door, tears just a blink away as Olive’s kindness touched her heart and made her feel tawdry, whilst Nancy Black’s strident opinion echoed after her.

‘I don’t know as I like that common voice on the wireless,’ Nancy said, sitting on Olive’s settee, wrinkling her flared nostrils like there was a bad smell floating about the room, much to Olive’s chagrin.

‘It’s Wilfred Pickles!’ Olive exclaimed, retrieving the newspaper, which Nancy had borrowed and brought back two days late. This was becoming a regular occurrence, and even though Olive didn’t mind lending her the newspaper, she did object to not getting it back when the news was still fresh, instead of being fit for nothing except tomorrow’s chip wrapper; especially when Nancy took half of it to polish her windows and Olive had to remind her who it actually belonged to.

‘It comes to something when the news has to be read in a Yorkshire accent,’ Nancy continued. ‘Have all the true Englishmen gone to fight? That’s what I want to know.’

‘I quite like a Yorkshire accent, myself,’ Olive replied, ‘and of course he is a true Englishman.’ She folded the paper to give her hands something to do to stave off the nervous energy Nancy always seemed to encourage in her and, then, putting the paper on the arm of the chair she continued, ‘I told you, he’s a very fine actor, is Wilfred Pickles. I think he’s got a lovely soothing voice and he’s very handsome.’ She gave an emphatic nod of her head and just stopped short of telling Nancy that she was being absurd.

‘It’s not right,’ Nancy began, but she was cut off mid-sentence.

‘Oh, I dunno.’ Tilly imitated the common slang, knowing it irked Nancy, cautiously splaying her fingers down the inside leg of her last pair of nylons that Drew had given her to examine it for ladders. ‘Mum’s right, his voice is very gentle on the old nerves, I must say.’ Olive smiled at her daughter whilst Nancy sniffed her disregard, her mouth set in a straight line.

‘Is she sickening for something?’ Nancy asked Olive and it took all of Tilly’s resolve to stop herself from bursting into hysterical laughter. ‘It just doesn’t seem right somehow,’ Nancy continued, ‘unpatriotic.’

‘Maybe if the BBC has a word on your behalf, as you’re such an avid listener.’ Tilly couldn’t look at her neighbour in case she gave the game away. Her mother gave her a raised eyebrow, but Tilly could see she too was amused and even more so when she actually joined in.

‘They could get Mr Churchill to do the honours and read the nine o’clock edition if he’s got nothing better to do,’ Olive suggested. Tilly’s lips formed a silent moue of surprise.

‘Well,’ Nancy exclaimed, obviously peeved at their impudence, ‘I’ve got better things I must be getting on with. I haven’t got time to sit around here gossiping all night with you pair of giddy kippers.’ Shrugging her discontent Nancy shuffled out of the room.

‘Don’t let me keep you, Nancy, I’m sure you must be very busy,’ Olive managed to say, only just subduing her laughter until they heard the front door slam.

‘Oh, Mum, you are a one,’ Tillie laughed, hugging her sides as she rolled on the arm of the chair. Olive was glad to see that Tilly was in good spirits; the war seemed to have made her a little too serious than was good for her and she was pleased that Tilly had suggested she might go to the pictures with Dulcie on Saturday night.

‘Well, serves her right, frosty-faced perisher, she …’ Olive stopped herself just in time when the back door opened and Sally came into the room. Then, in a more sober tone, she said, ‘I don’t know what’s got into me lately, I would never have said boo to a goose before the war.’ She was laughing softly as Sally was followed by Dulcie, clad now in her dressing gown as she entered the front room. Tilly was laughing still, glad to see her mother carefree for a change.

‘Are you going to share the joke?’ Dulcie asked, so glad to be home. Her ‘episode’ in the air-raid shelter with Reece Redgrave had been played over and over again in her mind even though she tried to force herself not to think of it; a trick she’d learned years ago when her mother ignored her in favour of Edith, it was her safety mechanism and it worked well usually, but not tonight. The air-raid tryst was something she was going to try her very best to forget. But she had the feeling it was going to be difficult, very difficult indeed.

‘Alice is awake if you want to see her before you eat your supper, Sally,’ Olive said. ‘I put her down for the night but she’s a bit fretful since the air-raid siren went off.’

I know how she feels, Dulcie thought, then remembering the envelope she said to Tilly, ‘This was on the mat in the hall.’ She handed over the letter.

‘It is Drew’s handwriting,’ Tilly said, surprised and pleased all at the same time.

‘He adores you so much he even sends you love letters a couple of hours after he’s seen you,’ Sally chuckled. But their happy chatter faded when there was a volley of impatient-sounding raps on the front door.

‘I’ll go,’ Tilly said but was stopped by her mother who looked a little concerned and hurried to the hall. ‘Wait there, I’ll see to it,’ Olive called over her shoulder.

‘One day Mum will see I’m not a little girl any more and quite able to answer the front door in the blackout,’ Tilly laughed but her amusement was short-lived when she saw Drew standing behind her mother.

‘You’d better go into the corridor,’ Olive told Tilly, her eyes troubled. ‘Drew has something he wants to say to you.’ Tilly felt her heart slump in her chest; this didn’t look good. It didn’t look good at all.

‘Drew?’ was all she could manage before she noticed his suitcase. No! Her mind refused to believe what she could see with her own eyes.

She didn’t like this. Not one bit. Drew hadn’t dressed in his best suit to go fire-watching. Her instincts were bristling now, telling her that no matter what he was about to say, there was nothing she could do about it.

‘I have to go. Forthwith.’ Drew made an attempt at humour but it didn’t work.

‘Forthwith?’ Tilly asked, bemused, but his answer came all too swiftly, and a chill sliced right through her.

‘It means I have to go away tonight.’ Drew’s voice dropped to a whisper as he gazed into her tearful blue eyes. ‘Now. Immediately. I have to catch the flight my father has arranged tonight …’ His smile slipped a little and she could see tears brimming in his eyes.

‘You mean you can get a flight to the States at such short notice, even though you’re not in the Forces?’

‘If there are seats available you can be sure my father will wangle one,’ Drew said.

‘Why do you have to go, Drew?’ Tilly’s voice was barely a whisper as she asked the question. His mother was ill, he was telling her. He would be back some time soon. Some time, soon? She couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing him every day.

‘I knew I would have to go back someday, you knew that, tell me you did, Tilly.’ Drew searched her face as if imprinting her beauty on his memory forever. ‘I tried to leave you with the letter but I couldn’t. I had to see you one more time …’ He tried to keep the obvious misery from his voice but eventually he accepted defeat as his shoulders slumped and all his jovial bravado disappeared. ‘Tilly, I gotta say …’ There was a strange look in his eyes, like he was trying to read her, ‘today was swell, I never wanted it to end …’

‘I’ll never see you again!’ Tilly gasped the words that suddenly struck her, forcing them from her lips. She wanted to get away from this, be anywhere except listening to her one true love tell her he was going tonight. This isn’t right, she thought frantically, first she lost her father then her grandparents – now Drew was leaving her, too. She’d never get over it, she wouldn’t! Tilly could see his beautiful lips moving and forced herself to concentrate.

‘I won’t be gone forever, Tilly, you know that, don’t you?’ Drew gently took her in his strong arms. But Tilly didn’t know any such thing. His plane could be shot down in the middle of the Atlantic. His father might not allow him to come back. Anything could happen.

‘You’re too beautiful to stay away from, my darling, you make my every day complete …’

‘I don’t know what I’ll do without you.’ Tilly blinked her tears away but more came.

‘My mother is very ill.’ He looked down at her for a long time as if trying to choose the right words. But there were none. Drew took a long, deep breath, whilst Tilly tried to swallow the restriction in her throat that had suddenly threatened to choke her.

‘Do you remember when I told you that I may have to go back to the States someday?’ Tilly nodded like a child who needed to be reassured and he continued, ‘I prayed every night that they could find a cure for Mom, and for a while that seemed to be the case.’ Tears were running freely down his handsome face now. ‘I longed to stay with you in this wonderful, devastated place where there is so much love, and a kind of freedom I never had before …’

‘Oh, Drew,’ Tilly whispered, unable to say any more when he gently placed the tip of his finger on her lips.

‘I dreamed we would set up home together. I planned to build us a house when this war is over … our children go to decent schools, be happy and free. I dreamed that one day we would have the perfect life, oh, honey, please don’t cry any more, I can’t bear it …’ Drew gently outlined her face, his touch almost imperceptible, before kissing her tears away. ‘I will come back to you as soon as I can, I promise.’

Tilly had to believe his words or how else could she let him go? They had both known he would have to go home someday. But it would always be too soon.

‘I will come for you, believe me.’ The forced smile on his lips did not reach his eyes and Tilly could not control her agony any longer. Her body gave way to deep, shuddering, convulsive sobs and he held her for a long time, until she was exhausted.

‘Oh, Drew,’ Tilly said eventually, calmer now, remembering the unopened letter still in her hands. ‘Were you really going to leave me without saying goodbye?’

‘I couldn’t – I know that now.’ His words, low, threaded through her hair.

‘You promised that you would take care of me,’ Tilly said, her head on his chest, longing to behave with dignity, since she didn’t want him to remember her with red, swollen eyes and a blotchy face, but it was useless, she couldn’t control this desperate emotion that was seizing her and in the end she didn’t care that she was making a fool of herself.

Drew held her for a long time, silently stroking her hair. Then gently he held her at arm’s length and said in a calm, quiet voice, ‘My darling Tilly …’ Tears filled his own eyes. ‘Please don’t send our ring back to me.’ His voice ebbed and, unable to speak now, Drew bent and tenderly kissed her wet cheek.

Tilly gazed up at him, her arms circling his neck, and through a mist of tears she too was unable to voice her loving, if selfish, thoughts, knowing he had to go. He had no choice. She had a powerful, unbreakable bond with her mother and Tilly knew how devastated she would feel if anything should ever happen to her. How could she deny the man she loved his need to see his own mother, perhaps for the last time? She must let Drew go with the knowledge she would be here waiting for him when he got back. Because, for her to get through this, she had to believe he was coming back. He would come back. She knew he would.

‘I love you, Tilly Robbins.’ Drew’s voice was gravelled with emotion. ‘I will write to you every day. You know that, don’t you?’ He had a desperate need to be reassured. With scalding tears streaming down her cheeks Tilly nodded, her voice refusing to articulate this love she would feel until her dying day.

‘I’ll leave you with a kiss to build a dream on until we can be together again,’ he said before kissing her with a fevered power that took Tilly’s breath away. Then, reluctantly, he walked away. His back was stiff, his head held high as he made his way to the waiting cab.

Tilly watched as its door clunked shut and she waited, desperate for him to turn and wave out of the back window. He didn’t. She waited, and waited, until long after the reverberations of the taxi’s engine could no longer be heard and the chill of the night air caught at her throat. She felt weak with grief, and the eerie silence that had wrapped itself around her was broken now only by her devastated sobs as the vibrant colour of her world disappeared, making everything grey, drab and miserable.