The War Widows (42 page)

‘Serves you right, but it’s beginning to be a habit. I thought we’d agreed to cut down on all those gallivantings with those wild friends? They only lead you astray. We don’t need people in our lives like that, do we?’

‘We need a bit of fun in our lives, a bit of adventure to compensate. If I give up the Olive Oils, I’m trusting that you’ve done right by me and sorted out that passport at long last. Avril’s banking on us to turn up and chaperone the old folks. That way we get a free trip. There has to be give and take in a marriage. I do this for you and you do that for me, even stevens. Start as we mean to go on, you told me. Humour me in this one thing and I’ll compromise on my friends.’

She watched him struggling with her words, trying to wriggle them one way and the other to his advantage.

‘They’ve been a bad influence on you. You never used to argue with me or get drunk,’ he answered, fiddling with his trilby hat.

‘I got drunk because you never show me any affection or kiss me like you meant it, not like Maria and Sylvio,’ she pleaded, knowing they must have this out once and for all.

‘Are they at it, again?’

‘“At it”? Is that all it means? I want us to desire each other so passionately that we don’t mind who sees us
at it
.’ There, her disappointment was nailed to the door.

‘That’s behaving like two dogs in the street. Sex has its place in the bedroom but it’s not the be-all and end-all of love. It’s there to control natural urges.’

‘Sometimes, Walt, I feel you’ve no urges towards me at all.’

‘It isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, this sex malarkey,’ he argued.

‘How would you know? We’ve never tried it.’

‘Men just know these things. Besides, you and I are too old for all that steamy stuff. You’ve been watching too many pictures.’

‘How can you say we’re too old for passion? My mother missed my father something rotten. She worshipped him and he always had a twinkle in his eye for her.’

‘That’s not very ladylike. Mother says that nightly occurrences have to be endured, not enjoyed. Ladies do it to beget children.’

‘So that was why there was only one of you? I did wonder,’ she quipped.

‘You can be so coarse, Lil. Dad died for his country…’

‘Sorry, but I want more out of marriage than a quick fumble in the dark once every blue moon.’

‘And I want a lady for a wife, not a good-time girl cavorting round the streets at all hours, only after one thing.’ Walt was red in the face now.

‘I’m sorry,’ Lily said automatically.

‘That’s better. I’m glad you realise you’re speaking out of turn. We’ll be fine once we’re on our own; in heaven with the door closed,’ he smiled, patting her on the arm.

‘So you keep saying, but I want to be sure that you love me.’

‘Of course, I love you. I must do to put up with all of this nonsense.’

She leaped forward. ‘Then show me.’

He was backing off. ‘Not in your office. You never know who’ll come in. We save all that for the big day. It’ll be worth waiting for.’

‘OK,’ she sighed. Walter made a hasty exit, leaving her confused and disgruntled once more. Are you a stick of rock or a marshmallow? She sat down at her desk, all of a wobble.

Diana was right. The impulse of her heart was urging, Go to it, girl. It’s now or never, and it was Lee Winstanley’s voice she was hearing, not Doormat Lil’s. What was she going to do about that?

It was dawn on her wedding day when Lily poked her head out of the eiderdown. She must have dozed off for a few hours, dreaming of how it had all come to this.

Everything was in place, ready and waiting. At the end of her single bed was the half-packed suitcase on the floor, the suit hung on its coat hanger. The hat was cradled in its leather hat box. She sniffed the leather of her unworn shoes-two-toned peep-toes in white calfskin with brown trim-and felt empty. The initials on her case blazed out in the sunshine from a crack in the curtains.

It was going to be a golden day, speedwell-blue sky, dry pavements and no muddy splashes on their outfits. Just the day she’d always dreamed of, and yet…Something wasn’t right. Perhaps a few more minutes under the covers again, snuggled down, and this panic would disappear.

What was it about those initials, the wrong initials embossed on that case? How unsettling was it to see
L. W. not L. P.? Those letters had been haunting her all week; a reminder of the day she must change her name for ever, lose an identity and perhaps independence, along with the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Now everything was so muddled up in her mind.

Walt’s threats were ringing warning bells in her head, a noise she could no longer ignore. Why blame two gold letters on a suitcase for all this unease? It was too late for second thoughts.

It was all Pete Walsh’s fault for dancing with her and for kissing her and making her doubt. Perhaps it was Maria and Sylvio’s fault for showing her what real passion was about, showing up the lack of it in her own romance. Perhaps it was Ana and Su’s fault for showing her how to upsticks and follow a dream, however crazy, or Diana’s courage in facing her own loss.

Jumping from the bed, pulling open the curtains, staring out into the early morning with heart thumping, she sat down at her bureau and searched for her Conway Stewart pen among the pile of thank you letters waiting to be posted after the wedding.

Suddenly she knew what she must do. Eureka! All the fuzziness of the last frenetic days was rinsed clean away in her head by an ice-cold splash of clarity.

Her romance with Walt was one of those arrangements that had seemed so splendid at the time but felt a mystery to her now. When she conjured up Walt in her mind’s eye there was no spark of desire, no flicker of lust, nothing but an urge to mother him and sort his problems out. Doing that for the rest of her life was no basis for a marriage, surely?

When Pete Walsh danced into her dreams in his football shorts, she felt jumping jacks and Catherine wheels spinning inside, and rockets going off in all directions. He was like her favourite liquorice blackcurrants in the purple wrappers, fruity smooth on the outside but inside something to get your teeth into, rich and spicy, a sweet that lasted on the tongue.

Beside him Walt’s pecks of affection tasted of candyfloss, fluffy and sweet but all air and no substance when you tried to bite into it. It looked good until you tried it. You’d never get sweet satisfaction for your precious coupons. He wasn’t good value for money.

Her eyes were once blinkered by duty but not any longer.

The two of them were not suited and never had been. Better to call it a day now. What she was about to do was for the both of them before they made a big mistake.

How could she marry a man she didn’t fancy, and try to live a lie? Better to find it out now before the vows were promised. Now or never, that was the challenge, but how was she going to live this down?

Her hand was shaking as she rummaged in the drawer for fresh paper. The drawers were almost bare. Everything had been transferred to Well Cottage in boxes.

There was no easy way to let him down gently with this one. But start as you mean to go on was Walt’s motto.

They had hardly exchanged words since Monday, both being busy with arrangements, chasing trestle tables and linen cloths, enough chairs to sit fifty guests,
ordering ham off the bone from the butcher’s, wine glasses for the toast in Vimto cordial as the church would have no liquor on the premises.

Being busy kept doubt at bay for a while. Avoiding him put back the moment of truth a bit longer.

As the week dragged on the cage door was looming ahead, getting larger and larger. No wonder she’d been like a bear with a sore head, and the new Lee kept bobbing up with words of wisdom in her head, unsettling things even further.

Now it was crunch time. Could she salvage the day? There was still time to hold back the tide of events. It was early in the morning, chance to slip out and put the note in his letterbox and seek refuge with the Crumblehumes. They would know what to do, but first she must concentrate and put her thoughts on paper.

She foraged for an envelope and shoved in the letter, making sure it was labelled as ‘Urgent’.

Now she must write a note to her family before slipping away quietly. Mother would see that the minister was told. He would inform the registrar and so forth.

Dismantling a wedding was like knitting waiting to be unravelled, stitch by stitch, loop by loop, layer by layer. The wool could be rolled up and used for something else, given time and a bit of understanding.

Everyone’s disappointment was another matter, she sighed, closing the lid of the suitcase tight.

No one was stirring. By the time she reached Avril’s, all hell would be let loose in Division Street. Let them get on with it for a change.

Esme had tossed and turned all night, trying to remember everything on her list.

It was no good, the sweats had got her and she needed a brew to cool her down, so she waddled downstairs, hoping not to give the milk man a fright in her faded candlewick dressing gown and hairnet; no point in wasting a good shampoo and set.

She could hear movements on the landing and the creak of the third step on the stairs. She stood by the kitchen door, mesmerised as her daughter struggled with a suitcase, trying not to make a noise.

‘So where are you off to at this time of morn, and with a suitcase packed?’

Lily froze, caught like a child with her hand in the biscuit tin. ‘I’m leaving Grimbleton. I can’t go through with it.’

‘And not a word to your mother?’ Esme shook her head in mock reproof. ‘I know mams and lasses aren’t
always the best of friends but I think I’m owed an explanation, seeing as it looks as if it’ll be
me
clearing up your mess. The kettle’s on the hob, by the way. No use going on an empty stomach.’

‘You’ll not make me change my mind,’ said her daughter, looking relieved, ashamed and confused all at the same time.

‘Who said anything about changing your mind? Why is everything between us always such a battle? I’m on your side. If nothing else, Lily, remember that.’

There was such relief in her daughter’s face on hearing those words as she sat at the kitchen table, clutching a cup of tea in her trembling hands.

‘I feel awful, and I know it’s late in the day but I have to go.’

‘I’ve seen it coming for months,’ Esme answered. ‘I do worry about you. I’ve only wanted your happiness above my own, whatever you might think. Every time I tried to open the subject you jumped down my throat. I may be old-fashioned but I do know a thing or two, and you and Walt were never suited.’

‘I know, I know now, but this mess’s not what I wanted. All week doubt’s been crawling through my head, chewing up all my good intentions. It comes down to three choices. If only I can ignore his pompous attitudes and make it work. If only I can shut my eyes to his views and his mother and not let them get to me. I just hoped my fears would go away but they got worse, not better. I’ve been as jumpy as a dog with fleas.’ Lily looked across to the familiar lined face, her mother sitting in all her morning glory, as if she was seeing her for the first time.

‘We had noticed but thought it was wedding nerves. So you realised you couldn’t lump it. Did you try to change it then?’

‘It’s silly but it was when he wouldn’t even get his passport that it dawned on me that Walt was one of life’s stay-at-homes, a steady sort of chap with no ambition but solid as cement when it came to how his wife should behave. If he can’t listen to me now what hope is there after we’re wed? That’s when I knew I’d have to leave.’ Lily searched for her hanky up her cardigan sleeve. ‘Like it, lump it or leave-that about sums it up, don’t you think? I’m sorry I’m like a leaking tap,’ she wept. ‘I was daft to think I could change him. If he won’t budge before we were wed, he sure as hell won’t after he’s put the ring on my finger.’

‘I knew something was up. I just wish you could have talked it over with me. I’ve let you down in so many ways, putting on you.’

‘It’s not you that’s let me down. All the arrangements, the church, all your outfits…That’s what’s worrying me: all the expense, the disappointed children and embarrassment.’

‘Outfits can be worn any time, lass. Churches are usually empty on Saturdays. Nothing’s been baked that can’t be shared out. Money is only money, but this is your life and your future, and that’s far more important. You’re a champion, Lily. Your dad would’ve been proud of you and he was as good a man as ever put a shirt over his head. I miss him that much. You never get over the loss of a man like that. He was my strong wall in a time of crisis. I wanted a man like that for
you but Walt’s weak and you can’t lean on a broken fence.’