Polly's War (18 page)

Benny’s face was set tight and an angry dark red, for all he itched to rip that liquid dressing gown off her. He always fancied her more when she was all fired up like this. ‘The women’s army has certainly taught you how to swear, corporal. But I outrank you. I’m the bloody sergeant here.’

For one long furious moment each outfaced the other and then, to Frank Fenton’s complete bafflement, as one they burst out laughing and almost fell into each other’s arms.

Chapter Eleven

It wasn’t till long after Fenton had gone and they’d re-established good relations to their joint satisfaction that Benny remembered the envelope in his trouser pocket. Lying back comfortably on the pillows with Belinda’s head warm against his shoulder, this, he thought, is as good a time as any. He handed it to her and watched as she read it with dawning disbelief.

Belinda sat up. ‘It’s from a Harry Entwistle, says he has a shop on Collier Street and that all the other carpenters in the district have signed a petition to stop us opening.’

Benny took the letter from her hand and tore it up, letting the pieces fall over the floor. ‘Aye, trade’s bad, he says, and they can’t afford the competition. Says we might as well pack up and go somewhere else.’

Belinda stared at him, devastated. ‘Move? After all the work we’ve put in here. We can’t do that. Where would we move to? I’ve searched the area with a fine tooth-comb and there are no other shops to let anywhere. None that we can afford.’

‘We’re staying put,’ Benny said, perversely determined to hang on to the shop he’d so despised, now that it was under threat. ‘Nobody pushes me about, not if I’ve owt to do wi’ the matter.’

Had Benny been aware that he owed this particular piece of misfortune to his father-in-law, he might have known better how to fight it. Yet weeks later the shop remained closed for the allocation licence had still not been issued. Benny sweated with worry, earning little more than a pittance from whatever part-time labouring jobs he could pick up on the docks or wharfs, yet was no nearer to achieving his dream of becoming his own boss. He’d have taken a permanent job if he could’ve found one,
 
but work of any kind wasn’t easy to come by and he refused to go cap in hand to his mother, for that would have been admitting failure.

 
At least he and Belinda were happy, despite everything. She believed utterly in every one of his many boasts including his competence as a craftsman. She promised to treasure him, to support him utterly in everything he did and, once he got going, to save every penny she could so that within no time at all they’d move out of the two squalid rooms and rent, or maybe even buy, a proper house of their own. This was Benny’s dream too and they would spend most evenings talking over how it might be achieved.

‘This is but the beginning,’ she would say. ‘You can do it, I know you can. Big clever boy like you.’

Trouble was, they couldn’t even make a start without the materials, and they couldn’t get those without an allocation licence. Time and time again Benny called at the various council offices asking about the forms, stoking up his failing belief in himself that if he could only get his hands on that essential bit of paper, no petition on earth would prevent him from opening. He really couldn’t understand what the hold-up was. Despite countless promises by countless different officials, no licence materialised. He was tired, he was hungry, and just when he least needed reminding, Belinda pointed out how she would have to give up her own job soon, how expensive babies were and how the pair of them couldn’t live on lumpy porridge indefinitely.

‘Talk to your family then,’ Benny bitterly responded as they sat huddled in bed eating yet another dreaded bowlful of the stuff on yet another drizzly wet morning. The day ahead, rather like his life, stretched out before him, grey and dull and completely without hope. ‘They’re the ones with brass. Why don’t they help us? They could lend me a bob or two. I’m their son-in-law after all.’

‘I’d rather starve than ask them,’ Belinda coldly responded, stiff-lipped with pride.

‘Aye, well, we can arrange that easily enough.’ Anger flared in him so strong that he broke out into a cold sweat and out of sheer frustration, picked up the bowl and flung it right across the room. It hit the bedroom wall and slid down it, leaving a trail of sticky porridge over Belinda’s pretty pale blue paint. Stunned by his own violence Benny was shocked into silence for a whole half minute before murmuring, ‘Sorry love. Don’t worry. I’ll scrub it clean.’

‘You certainly will. It’s a shocking waste of good food. I should make you lick it off,’ and she gave a throaty chuckle. ‘Though perhaps we’re not quite that starving hungry yet.’

‘Well I’m certainly not licking that mucky wall,’ Benny scoffed, grinning sideways at her and then they were both laughing, the outburst seeming to have done them both good. Happy, silly nonsense, two young lovers squabbling and enjoying each other, trying not to take life too seriously despite its being very serious indeed.

They made love, tenderly, and with all due care for their coming child but with undoubted passion. Afterwards they lay warmly entwined and reverted to their favourite pastime of planning a solid future, a prosperous business, a loving home life for their child. This was the dream, but how to bring it about?

‘What will you do if you never get the licence?’ Belinda murmured from the warm hollow where she’d settled herself beneath his chin. ‘Would you change your mind about taking your mother’s offer?’

His reply was a long time in coming but she didn’t hurry him. Belinda knew it had to be his decision.

‘I might think about it,’ he conceded at last. ‘But I’d want my ideas to be listened to. I’d want a proper say in the running of the business. It all depends what she’s offering.’

Again a long thoughtful pause, this time on Belinda’s part. She stirred softly in his arms. ‘Why don’t we ask her and Charlie to tea on Sunday and find out?’ She’d been seeking the right moment to broach this suggestion for some time and even now held her breath in case it brought a stormy response.

Instead he gently disentangled himself and shrugging into his jacket, declared his intention of trying one more time at the council offices, taking no nonsense this time. He wrapped his muffler round his neck, tied the laces of his boots and just when she thought he wasn’t going to mention it, said, ‘You’d have to include our Luce and those two tearaways.’ Benny spoke with affection for he adored his nephew and niece.

‘You’d trust my cooking then?’

‘Reckon our constitutions are tough enough to take the risk. But tidy this place up Corporal, or its jankers for you.’ She was kneeling on the bed, her hands caressing the swell of her stomach, lips twitching upwards into her famously bewitching smile. Benny only had to look at her to agree to whatever she asked. Giving her belly a quick kiss while pinching her bottom at the same time, he swung out quickly through the door before she could land him a fourpenny one in return.
 

She scrambled from the bed to blow kisses to him through the window, now cleaned of its grime and shining bright. With one hand still on her stomach as if by this simple gesture she could protect the baby growing inside her, she waved to him lovingly with the other, knowing that the next few months would be even more testing, particularly after the little one was born. Perhaps Sunday would give her an opportunity to speak to Polly on the quiet, to talk about whether Benny was right to stick out for a shop of his own, or whether he should go into business with her after all.

Belinda understood his need for independence but she also knew how vital it was for them to get a regular income coming in soon. If they were ever to successfully adapt to civilian life again, build a home and a marriage together, then there had to be give and take on both sides.
 

And if sometimes she thought with nostalgia of the more intellectually challenging and less domestic life in the forces, then that was something she must put aside as over and done with. She pressed her forehead against the cold glass so she could catch a last glimpse of his retreating figure. She did love the stupid tyke, dreamer or no.

Benny issued the invitation on his way back from yet another fruitless argument with officialdom and found Polly up to her elbows in machine oil, struggling to get one of her fancy new machines working properly. Laughing at her hopeless efforts he took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and set to work.

‘How’s Charlie, any better?’ he asked, frowning as he soon had the steam rollers moving again.

Polly’s voice thickened with the emotion that suddenly blocked her throat. ‘He’s up and down. There must be something else wrong with him, Benny. I’m that worried. I’m trying to persuade him to see the doctor again, but he accuses me of fussing. Stubborn as a mule, so he is.’

Benny refused her request for him to hang around long enough to help with the next delivery run, insisting he had his own fish to fry. She even tried telling him that Charlie was working too hard and could do with a break but he marched off, head high, to nowhere in particular. Polly stood at the door of the warehouse and shouted after him.

‘Now who’s stubborn? Sure and aren’t I surrounded by fools and idiots?’

‘Come to your dinner on Sunday.’ he yelled back. ‘We’ll be expecting you.’

Polly shook a furious fist after his rapidly retreating figure. ‘Wouldn’t I grab at any opportunity to put a flea in your stupid ear.’

When he’d gone she strode back into her office buzzing with irritation. Where in heaven’s name he got such obstinacy from she really couldn’t imagine, and then gave a shout of laughter for of course she knew only too well. Well, at least he’d fixed the machine for her, bless his kind heart.

Benny also called at number 179, to issue a similar invitation to Lucy. He thought she took an unconscionable length of time to come to the door and then wouldn’t let him over the threshold, saying both her employers were out and it wouldn’t be right to let him in when the house was empty. Then after they’d spoken, which took less than a half minute, she quickly closed the door in his face and he could’ve sworn, as he turned to go, that he heard a man’s voice. Yet how could he have when she’d said the house was empty?
 

He instantly dismissed the puzzle from his mind as he hurried on home, anxious to return to his lovely Belinda.

When Sunday came, Belinda’s determination to be considered an equal partner in the whole of Benny’s life and not just on the domestic front led her slap-bang into their most serious marital discord to date. Benny informed her that he was off down to the Dog and Duck for a quick pint while she cooked the dinner.

Her first reaction as he reached for his jacket was to ask how he could afford a pint when he hadn’t had much in the way of regular work lately due to bad weather. She guessed he probably had some of his demob money left, and wouldn’t be above accepting drinks from his mates. Even so, she pointed out that what with money being tight, and his family coming over, he could perhaps stay and help her in the kitchen instead. Benny looked askance at this suggestion, insisting he’d only get under her feet and there was loads of time.

Belinda gave in, smiled and said, ‘OK, why not? A drink sounds a good idea. I’ve got the roast already in the oven. Give me a minute to put in the potatoes, then I can come with you.’

Benny‘s jaw dropped and his mouth fell open. ‘Come with me? You can’t do that?’

‘Don’t be silly. If there’s loads of time, as you say, then why shouldn’t I come too?’ Paying no attention to his spluttering excuses, she slipped the piece of brisket, circled by potatoes, back into the warm oven. The piece of meat was one of the cheaper cuts. Even so, Belinda hadn’t realised it could cost quite so much. For the first time in her life she’d begun to worry about money, wondering how long her savings would last since there was precious little left in her account and no more allowance coming from her father. Still, Benny would surely have the business up and running long before she ran out of funds. She put on her coat and beret and took his arm with a proud smile. ‘We must be back by half-twelve in time to have everything ready for one o’clock, when your family arrive.’

It was only as she walked through the double doors of the Dog and Duck that Belinda realised what a very big mistake she’d made. A hush fell as she entered, there not being another woman in the place, and every eye turned upon her.

She’d been used to dealing with prickly male egos on many occasions in the past, but this was something else. You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. It was so oppressive that she very nearly turned tail and ran. It might have been the done thing for Belinda Clarke to share a pint with fellow soldiers, male and female but this wasn’t the army, this was Pansy street, and these were not fellow soldiers. These people had a set pattern to their lives, certain customs and traditions, and she had just broken the holiest of them all.

On Sundays women must cook while men must drink.

Well, she was here now, so she’d have to stick it out. The next hour was the most difficult Belinda could ever remember. Every word and gesture told her that she’d no right to be here, that she’d overstepped an invisible line. Her place was in the kitchen, seeing to her man’s dinner, as their own wives were at this very moment. She certainly shouldn’t be standing at her husband’s side in the vault room of a public house.

‘She’s got the shackles on you now lad,’ said one old codger, winking at Benny and making him go red with embarrassment and anger.