The Sun Will Shine Tomorrow (2 page)

But, when we reached the house, I was pleased to see her sitting by the wireless, chuckling at a comedy show. Although she still looked grey and haggard, this was an improvement. Dad had gone to bed which was also a relief. Maybe Rosie was getting better.

Later, I lay awake in bed, listening to Lily’s deep breathing as she slept the sleep of the innocent. The sky outside the small window had darkened but my mind was too alert to sleep. All the worries were like a jumbled mass in my brain. Maddie and my cousin Danny. How was he managing so far from home. And little Daniel. Would he be grown up when this war finally ended? Then there was Rosie and the baby and Joe’s words about late mothers and mentally impaired children. I silently cursed Joe for his sweeping remarks and I vowed I would tell him tomorrow not to say another word.

The next morning, just after Dad departed, Rosie was violently sick. She sat on the side of the bed with her arms crossed over her stomach and her sweat-stained nightdress clinging to her thin body.

She was also crying. ‘Ann, I feel terrible.’

‘That’s because you’ve hardly had anything to eat, Rosie. You’re trying to be sick but there’s nothing to come up.’ Oh my God, I thought, what do I know about it? ‘Look, you lie down and I’ll make you a cup of weak tea.’

Lily had wandered through and she was crying as well. ‘Will Rosie be all right, Ann?’

‘Get dressed, Lily, and have your breakfast then go down to the shop and tell Connie I’ll be a wee bit late this morning.’

She nodded but still gazed wide-eyed at the open door of Rosie’s room.

After she had gone, I took a basin of lukewarm water through and gave Rosie a sponge down and gave her a clean nightgown to put on. Her face had a grey, clammy look and I was really worried about her.

‘Rosie, I’m going to send for a doctor,’ I said firmly.

She tried to protest but was too weak even to sit up. I ran down to the shop and asked Connie if I could phone for a doctor. We didn’t have our own doctor because it was expensive to call one out. This meant we didn’t use one very much, relying instead on home-grown cures. Still, I knew Connie had a doctor and I could ask him to call in and see Rosie. At the shop, Connie said she would hurry round and phone him from her flat.

Doctor Bryson was a small bustling man with a bald head and wire-framed specs. He hurried into the house like a small beetle, his voice deep and brusque. Connie had mentioned Rosie’s pregnancy to him over the phone and, when he came in, he found Rosie sitting on the edge of the bed.

He sat down beside her and took her temperature before giving her a quick examination. I stood inside the door with my heart thumping painfully, frightened of what he would say.

‘How far on is your pregnancy?’ he asked Rosie.

‘About six weeks, Doctor.’

‘This is your first child? And you’re aged forty-five?’

Rosie nodded.

The doctor stood up and put his stethoscope away in his large black bag. ‘Well, I have to say you are a strong, healthy woman and, although forty-five is a bit old to be having a first child, it’s not uncommon. Your problem, Mrs Neill, is that you are very unlucky to suffer from extreme morning sickness but this is nothing to worry about. You will feel a lot better after three months.’

Rosie looked unconvinced. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever feel better, Doctor.’

‘Yes you will. In a few weeks’ time, this will just be an unpleasant memory.’

I paid him and he disappeared through the door, still bustling with his black bag banging against his leg.

Then Alice appeared. She looked worried. ‘I saw the doctor, Ann. Has something happened?’

I repeated what the doctor had said but my words were interrupted by the sound of Rosie retching.

‘If the doctor is right, Alice, then Rosie has another six weeks of this,’ I said.

I left Alice with her daughter and went to work. Connie was full of sympathy and wanted to know what had happened because it wasn’t every day I sent for a doctor. But we couldn’t discuss it properly because Joe was in the shop.

Connie had obviously warned him because he didn’t mention Rosie or her age. Instead he was full of Rudolf Hess’s flight to the Duke of Hamilton’s estate.

‘There’s something in the wind,’ he said, lighting up one of his home-made cigarettes. ‘A Nazi like that doesn’t fly hundreds of miles just to say hello. I bet Hitler wants to make peace with us.’

I let his words wash over me but Connie was eager to keep the conversation going. She said, ‘What do you think about the call-up for women, Joe?’

Joe was all for it but he got me worried again when he said, ‘I expect you’ll be called up, Ann – you being a young single woman.’

I looked at him in alarm but Connie laughed. ‘Ann can’t go because she has her sister to look after. She might not be married but she’s got more responsibilities than some who are.’

After Joe had gone, I asked Connie if this call-up would include me but she said no. It would only be women and girls who had no ties – women who could move to the munitions factories or work on the farms in the Land Army. To be honest, by dinner time I was totally washed out and thinking once more what a terrible world this was. I wondered if the sun would ever shine on us again.

That evening, Dad was almost beside himself with worry when Rosie mentioned the doctor and even the doctor’s reassuring words didn’t make him feel any better.

I went to bed early as I wanted to write to Greg, my fiancé. He was working in a place called Bletchley Park in England, in some office doing war work, he said. He hadn’t passed the medical for the armed forces because of his bad leg but his letters were full of news about days spent being busy and I know he enjoyed the routine and the work. It was all a bit hush-hush but then so was everything in these traumatic times.

I had mentioned Rosie’s pregnancy in one of my letters but I didn’t want to be all gloomy tonight and give him all my worries and woes so I tried to keep the letter as cheerful as possible – not an easy task.

His letters were full of chat about the people he worked with and how lovely the countryside was where he was stationed. ‘The war seems so unreal in a lovely peaceful place like this,’ he wrote. ‘Yet we can hear the muffled sounds of the planes as they drop their bombs on London and the night-time sky is often fiery red with all the blazing buildings. It’s terrible to think about it.’

I dashed off a quick letter before I spent another sleepless night. I was hoping to look for somewhere else to stay but I felt I couldn’t abandon Rosie just now. She needed help with the house and the shopping and I was the only one close enough who could do it as Granny and Alice were unable to rush around looking after her. All these jumbled thoughts went round in my brain again – the worry and uncertainty of the war and thinking about Danny and Greg. Would they ever come home again?

I fell asleep around dawn only to be wakened a couple of hours later by the usual sounds coming from Rosie’s room. I stumbled wearily towards the door, feeling as if I had the entire weight of the world on my shoulders. Still, the next day was Saturday. On Saturday and Sunday Lily and I normally stayed away from the house. Dad and Rosie needed some time on their own so we would head for the Overgate.

On the Saturday afternoon, Granny had a visit from Minnie and her son Peter. I hadn’t seen her for a while and it was great to catch up with all the news. Minnie and Peter had been lucky to escape from the Clydebank bombing last year and they were now back staying with her mother while her husband was away in the army.

What a strange man-less society we are, I thought – women and children and older men only. As Greg said, an unreal world.

Minnie said, ‘I’m looking for a house, Ann. It’s terrible living with my mother and she’s getting worse.’

Granny was sympathetic. ‘Is she still cleaning the house from top to bottom, Minnie?’

Minnie looked grim. ‘Aye, she is but it’s getting worse. The other night Peter was playing with a pencil and she started wiping the floor around him, saying he’d put pencil marks on the linoleum. She sloshed so much disinfectant water around him that he was soaked and smelling of San Izal for ages. I’m sure she’s going daft with all this cleaning.’

‘What will you do, Minnie?’ I asked.

She shook her head. ‘I wish I knew.’

Suddenly the door opened and Bella, Granny’s sister, appeared. On seeing her, Grandad said he needed some more tobacco and he hurried off.

Granny was appalled by his behaviour but fortunately Bella didn’t seem to notice.

Bella said, ‘I couldn’t help overhearing that you’re looking for a house, Minnie. Is that right?’

Minnie nodded.

‘Well, the house next door to me is becoming empty next week. The old wife died, poor soul, but if you go down to the factor in Reform Street you’ll maybe get it.’

Minnie was overjoyed. ‘I’ll go and see them first thing on Monday morning. Thanks, Bella!’

Bella tried not to look like Lady Bountiful but couldn’t. ‘Och, that’s all right, Minnie. We know what a dragon your mother is with the washcloth.’

Bella lived in Cochrane Street, one of the highly populated streets that formed the ‘Crescent’ area situated beside the very busy Lochee Road. It was also near the Hawkhill where Minnie’s mother lived.

Bella then turned her attention to me. ‘You might have to join up, Ann – you being a single lassie with no bairns. The papers are saying that you’ll get sent to the munitions factories or you can join the Land Army. What would you like?’

Before I could answer, Granny butted in. ‘Ann has Lily to look after. How can she go to some munitions factory or anywhere else for that matter?’

Bella sat in the best chair like a fat Buddha and shook her head. I was always fascinated by the way her heavy jowls wobbled like a plate of jelly. She continued. ‘Doesn’t matter about a sister, I don’t think. Ann will have to go if she’s told.’

More worries, I thought. Was there no end to them? Also, although I wouldn’t say anything to Bella, I wished she had mentioned the empty house to me. But maybe she didn’t know I was looking for one. And I certainly didn’t begrudge it to Minnie who had been through so much in the last few months, coming out of the shelter in Clydebank to discover the entire area completely flattened and everything gone except what they were wearing. It had been a traumatic time for her and little Peter.

Bella was now on the subject of Rosie. ‘What a pair of daft beggars they are, having a bairn at their time of life. Still, your father was aye a bit stupid, Ann.’

Granny glared at her but she went gaily on, ‘And I hear Rosie is sick every morning, noon and night. That can’t be right. There must be something wrong with her to be aye so ill.’

‘It’s never stopped you, Bella,’ said Granny acidly. Bella either didn’t hear or else she pretended to be deaf.

I tried hard not to laugh. Bella was our family hypochondriac and here she was running down Rosie who had just cause for her sickness. But there was no stopping her when she got going in a character assassination.

‘Rosie has the shape that’ll run to fat. I bet she’ll be like a house end by the time the bairn’s born.’ This was rich coming from her. There was the well-known family joke about the time she got stuck in a chair at home and it had taken three young men to pull her free.

Minnie got ready to leave and, to our relief, so did Bella. Minnie said she would let us know about the house and they all departed.

I said to Granny, ‘I’m looking for a house as well, Granny. It’s not fair on Rosie and Dad having Lily and me hanging about – especially after the baby’s born. I wish I’d heard about the empty house next door to Bella.’

Granny laughed.

I looked at her.

‘I hope in one way that Minnie doesn’t get it. Imagine living next door to Bella with all the world’s ailments. I think living with a house-proud mother would be better than that.’

Later, Lily and I left. We made a detour through Dudhope Park where Lily played on the swings. The sun was warm and the sky a cloudless blue. I sat on the grass, alone with my thoughts. I imagined hundreds of planes flying across with their cargoes of exploding bombs and I began to shiver in spite of the warmth. We were lucky here in Dundee. Although a few bombs had fallen, we didn’t have to contend with anything like the people in London, Glasgow and Coventry had – and Clydebank, come to that.

It was indeed, as Greg had described it, an unreal world. Yet this unreality had violence and death breathing round its edges. For the moment, it had missed us but our turn would surely come. Another thing – what if I did have to go away to a factory somewhere? What would happen to Lily?

As if she read my mind, she hurried over from her swing to sit beside me. We sat and watched a large bumblebee settle gently on a nearby flower.

Lily turned to look at me. ‘Is Rosie going to be all right, Ann?’

‘Of course – she’ll be fine,’ I said.

Lily didn’t look happy.

I said, ‘Rosie’s just going through a bad stage just now but she’ll get much better in a wee while.’

Lily thought about this for a moment then looked at me with anxious eyes. ‘It’s just that Jean McBean was saying things about Rosie when we were playing.’

‘What did she tell you, Lily?’

She seemed on the verge of tears. ‘She says Rosie is going to die – just like Mum.’

I was angry but I knew comparisons were being made over the two women. I took her hand. ‘Well, Rosie’s not going to die, Lily – I promise you,’ I said and this seemed to cheer her up.

I wondered what was waiting for us at the house. Was Rosie feeling better? Or worse? And I was mentally kicking myself for making a promise – a promise which I sincerely hoped would turn out all right but, to be honest, it was one I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure about.

Tuesday afternoon was my usual day for doing the weekly laundry at the Meadows wash-house. I was feeling tired and hot and not looking forward to the next few hours in the hot, steamy building. Up to a few weeks ago, I had only my grandparents’ washing to do along with my own and Lily’s but, with Rosie feeling so ill, Dad had asked me if I could maybe do their laundry as well.