The Rainbow Years (41 page)
Authors: Rita Bradshaw
‘Please, Ron.’ Kitty squeezed his hand. ‘Don’t let that silly woman spoil us looking forward to having the bairn. The women in my family drop bairns like a hen laying eggs. I’m not worried.’
‘No, you’re right, love.’ But he couldn’t help worrying. And now here was May refusing yet again to consider a divorce and using language about Kitty he would never have thought she knew. And yet according to Bruce, May was as happy as Larry living back at her da’s. He threw his wife’s letter on the table. ‘She’s a bitter pill, is May. No wonder Eva and Harriet skedaddled into the Land Army when they got the chance.’
Kitty did not comment on this. If she was to give her true opinion, she thought Ronald’s eldest girl in particular took after her mother in every way. Instead she said, pointing to the other letter Ronald had opened, ‘Is that Perce’s handwriting? What does he want?’
‘Asking if he can stay for a day or two at the end of the month.’
‘Oh, Ron, not again. I wouldn’t mind if he really wanted to see you but he doesn’t, not a bit of it. I’m sure he snoops about when we’re in bed and you know what he’s looking for. He’s cottoned on we know where Amy is and now her and Charles aren’t together he thinks he’s in with a chance. What he’d do if he knew she was on the same base as Bruce I don’t know. I . . . I don’t like to say it because he’s your son but he’s not right in the head where Amy’s concerned.’
Ronald heaved a sigh. He knew she was right. Twice he’d caught Perce looking through the bits of paper and letters and whatnot Kitty kept behind the wooden candlestick on the mantelpiece, and both times Perce had sworn blind he was after a box of matches. He hadn’t been able to believe it at first when Bruce had put him in the picture about Perce being after Amy. Perce had never let on, at least not to him. Not that there was anything wrong in it as far as the law was concerned, they were only cousins after all, and perhaps if Perce had been up front about liking the lass he might not have felt it was . . . well, seedy. Aye, that was the word, seedy. Not that Perce would find anything in their house. Kitty made sure she got rid of Amy’s letters once they’d read them and Bruce was always careful not to mention his cousin when he wrote.
‘He tells me he’ll have a side of bacon with him and some other bits and pieces.’ He looked at Kitty hopefully.‘We could do with it, lass.’
‘All got on the black market as you well know, and before you say I’ve accepted things from her upstairs knowing her son’s on the fiddle, that’s different. Mrs Ramshaw doesn’t use what she gets us as a wedge in the door.’
‘No, all right, lass, all right. I’ll say that with the babbie being only a couple of months from coming I don’t want you put about. There’s barely room to swing a cat as it is.’ Not that Perce would buy that. He knew Kitty didn’t like him. Mind, with them only having the two rooms and scullery, it was true enough.
‘Thanks, Ron.’
‘Don’t thank me, lass.’ He stood up swiftly and pulled her up from the table with him, holding her as tightly as her protruding stomach would allow. ‘It’s me that should be thanking you every day of my life for taking me on. I know I’m no cop, love. A married man well over fifty and bringing you to two rooms in the worst part of Manchester.’
Kitty put a finger on his lips, her eyes full of love as she said, ‘I’ve loved you all my life, Ron Shawe. I’d have gone to the ends of the earth to be with you. Don’t you know that yet? But I never thought you’d look the side I was on.’
‘So much time wasted.’
‘But we have plenty in front of us, lad. This isn’t going to be an only child, you know.’ She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling.
Ronald bent his head and kissed her, taking his time about it. And when she snuggled deeper into him, her arms about his waist, he said, ‘Remember how Father Fraser used to go on about heaven and hell when we were bairns, Kitty? Frightening us to death about the latter and maintaining we weren’t likely to get in the former without his say-so? If he was here right now I’d tell him he could stick his bigoted idea of heaven. Just give me this for eternity and I’ll be the most thankful man the Almighty lets through them pearly gates.’
She wriggled and pushed him with one shoulder.‘It’s Saint Peter who mans the gates,’ she said, ‘and you shouldn’t talk like that about a priest.’
‘Not even that old goat?’
‘Ron!’
‘All right, all right.’
He was laughing so much she had to laugh with him, even as she said with as much reproach as she could muster for this man she loved with all her heart, ‘It’s bad luck to speak ill of the dead and him a priest too. And it was awful the way he died, all alone and no one finding him until his housekeeper came back from that week at her sister’s. They reckon he must have lingered for days after that stroke, unable to move and lying in his own filth and all.’
‘Aye, well, your mam and da took him with a pinch of salt, don’t forget, but he all but ruled the roost when I was growing up. And he could have made things easier for our Bess if he’d wanted. Me da wouldn’t have dared treat her like he did after Amy was born if he hadn’t known he’d got Father Fraser’s backing.’
‘Well, he’s gone now and that’s that.’
It was a favourite saying of Kitty’s when she wanted to end a conversation and again Ronald laughed, echoing, ‘Aye, that’s that,’ just as the menacing wail of the siren began.
‘Oh no, not now, not on a Sunday morning. We’ve had raids every night this week and now they’re coming on a Sunday.’
‘Sunday or not, we’d better get to the shelter.’
‘Do we have to? It probably won’t be anything much and I’ve got a lovely bit of brisket the butcher let me have which will need doing all morning. I was just going to put it on.’
‘It’ll wait.’ He was already fetching her winter coat and hat. ‘Come on, lass, look lively. It’s bitter out so wrap up. I don’t want you ill in bed with flu.’
After he had helped her on with her coat which strained at the seams when she had buttoned it up, he urged her towards the door. Kitty paused at the threshold, turning to face him and standing on tiptoe to kiss him hard on the lips. ‘The last few years have been the happiest of my life,’ she said softly, ‘and now to have a bairn an’ all. It’s the icing on the cake.’
‘Just shows there’s life in the old dog yet.’
‘That was never in dispute.’
‘Believe me, lass, there was many a time I wondered afore we got together.’
‘Well, you needn’t have worried.’
As he hurried her out of the door into the hall beyond, the old lady who occupied the top part of the house came down the stairs, her sprightly step belying the fact she was well into her seventies. As the two women went ahead of him to the Anderson shelter which Mrs Ramshaw’s son had insisted on digging out and installing for his mother, Ronald thought, She’ll never know what she means to me, not really. It wasn’t only in the generous giving of her body - it had been a revelation to him that a woman could give and receive such pleasure - but her total adoration of him that had made him feel like a man again. He wanted nothing more than to make her happy for the rest of his life.
They had just reached the Anderson shelter in the backyard and got themselves settled in when the first dull explosions began, the anti-aircraft guns contributing to what was now a familiar sound.
‘I’d just put me shin o’ beef on,’ Mrs Ramshaw said plaintively to Kitty. ‘You put your dinner on yet?’ And without waiting for an answer, ‘I like to let me shin o’ beef do for three or four hours, melts in the mouth then, it does.’
Ronald screwed his buttocks into his wooden chair and glanced at Kitty. She met his eyes and she was smiling. She was so good with Mrs Ramshaw but he had to admit the hours he’d spent in this shelter listening to the old woman rattle on about this and that without pausing for breath were a trial.
Another crunching explosion sounded and it was nearer this time. Good job he’d insisted they come to the shelter, looked like the blighters meant business this morning. ‘You warm enough?’ he said to Kitty, and although she nodded he was sure her teeth were chattering. It was cold enough to freeze the drips from your nose in here and with it only being the middle of March, there was no chance of it warming up for weeks. But would Mrs Ramshaw let him bring a paraffin stove down? Would she heck. Convinced they’d be burned alive if a bomb landed near enough to shake the shelter. Like he said to Kitty, if one was that close, likely the last thing they’d have to worry about was the damn paraffin stove.
He blew on his hands to warm them up but in the next moment he was on his feet holding Kitty close. The shuddering explosion had made both women scream and now Kitty clung to him, saying, ‘That one was close, Ron, really close.’
‘That means the worst of it is over. They’ll be moving on to—’
He never got to finish the sentence because a thundering roar took them both off their feet as their world erupted in shattered corrugated iron and dirt.Together they went down, his arms holding her tight and his body over hers and that of their unborn child.
Chapter 21
‘Who needs some of this beetroot juice for tonight?’
‘Me!’ echoed from all corners of the hut and Amy smiled as she placed a jam jar half full of cooked beetroot juice on the table.
‘Help yourselves then,’ she said, ‘and I’ve got some gravy browning for anyone who hasn’t got any stockings.’
‘You’re an absolute angel,’ Isobel enthused as she bounded across to her. ‘It’s
so
perfect having someone who works in the kitchens as a friend. Not that I don’t like you for yourself, ’ she added hastily, ‘but I ran out of lipstick and silk stockings ages ago.’
so
perfect having someone who works in the kitchens as a friend. Not that I don’t like you for yourself, ’ she added hastily, ‘but I ran out of lipstick and silk stockings ages ago.’
‘Now the Yanks are in the war, folk are saying they’ll bring plenty of stuff over,’ said a tall blonde girl from the back of the room.
Isobel grimaced. ‘My Philip’s already laid down the law about the Yanks. He doesn’t want me within six foot of one.’
‘But they’re our allies,’ protested the other girl.
Isobel shrugged.
‘Well, I haven’t got a husband to tell me what to do,’ the blonde said happily, ‘and I intend to get closer than six foot.’
‘Are you and Nick going to the dance?’ Gertie asked as the others continued the discussion about the possible benefits of the arrival of the GIs. Over the last few months it had gradually become common knowledge that Amy and Pilot Officer Nick Johnson were seeing each other. No one had pressed Amy for details, not even on domestic nights which came round once a week, when all airwomen were forced to stay in and do domestic chores - something which was bitterly resented because the airmen escaped it. Amy had found she liked these nights, though, as did most of the girls. Secrets were whispered and confidences made and kept, and hut companions became real friends. By the time of the ritual toast and cocoa around ten thirty, everyone always agreed they didn’t know why they made such a fuss about staying in anyway.
‘Yes, we’re going.’
‘So are me and Bruce.’
Amy nodded. Bruce had asked Gertie out quite a few times now but he was still taking things very slowly because of the ten-year age difference between them. Amy could understand this, and she knew from the odd thing he’d said that the example of Charles rushing her had contributed to his wariness and that he wanted Gertie to be sure of her own mind, considering he was her first boyfriend. Nevertheless, Amy felt if ever there was a Jack for a Jill, it was those two.
‘I don’t suppose Cassie will be coming,’ Gertie said now.
Amy shook her head.‘She’s too cut up.’ Cassie had married her pilot in December and lots of the WAAFs had got involved when they’d discovered the bride-to-be had no coupons for a new wedding outfit. Consequently Cassie had walked down the aisle in a beautiful silver-grey suit and a peplum and rose-coloured hat. Her blouse had been cut down from a silk tea-gown, which had also provided a saucy peek-a-boo bow for the hat. Everyone had been thrilled for her, as thrilled as they were horrified when a week ago Cassie’s husband had been shot down over France.
‘Poor Cassie.’ Gertie shook her head. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if Bruce was a pilot.’ And then she clapped her hand over her mouth, her voice rushed when she said, ‘Oh, Amy, I’m so sorry, me and my big mouth. That was a stupid thing to say. I didn’t mean anything.’
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