The War Widows (9 page)

Su stood on the landing, listening to them splashing and laughing as Lily sang with a rich voice, ‘Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey…’

Stan had a rich voice too. They had played in a concert party together. She fell onto the bed exhausted, curling up into a ball, dreaming of the veranda at home and Auntie Betty fixing jasmine around her coiled hair. She shivered. This England-it was so chilly and dark.

When she woke, Lily had given Joy a cup of warm milk and tucked her in one end of the cot. Ana had
opened her blouse to her child and Su saw her magnificent white breasts. She herself was like a child in that department. Anglo-Burmese did not have breasts like melons. Perhaps Freddie was disappointed by her tiny frame and that was why he abandoned her?

It was time to change into her one remaining clean blouse and go down to supper.

They sat in the chilly dining room with a paraffin heater belching out fumes, choking the air with its acrid smell. The wind was rattling at the windowpanes.

‘Wind from the north means snow,’ said Levi, making polite conversation. ‘I don’t suppose you two have ever seen snow.’

‘I was a guest of the Germans for many years. I have seen terrible snow,’ snapped Ana. ‘And you?’ She turned to Su.

‘Just on a Christmas card,’ she answered.

‘Oh, you have Christmas in your country then?’ sniffed Ivy, picking at her tinned salmon for bones.

Su put down her fork. The fish was tasteless and she could barely swallow for anger at this bitter pickle. ‘My father was a British soldier. We have Christmas carols and a tree and “Away in a Manger” and Jesus in His cradle. I am baptised Church of England, like my father. I’m not a heathen,’ she answered with cold politeness. That would shut up the snake woman.

Ivy turned her venom to Ana instead. ‘What religion are you then? Catholic?’

‘No understand,’ she said, and refused to say another word.

‘We are going to hold a service in church in Freddie’s
memory,’ said Esme. ‘You are welcome to attend but I don’t know how I’m going to explain you both. One, yes, but two of you…?’

‘Number one wife and Number two wife,’ chuckled Levi until someone kicked him under the table and he howled. ‘What was that in aid of?’

‘That is not funny,’ snapped Ivy with her mouth full. ‘We could say one of them was his widow but the other one…’ She was looking at them with disapproval.

‘Pity there isn’t another one of us to go round,’ sneered Levi, fingering his moustache, licking his lips and giving Su the onceover.

‘Don’t be silly. This is serious. People will want to know who these foreigners are. They should stay at home,’ said Ivy.

‘Levi has a point,’ said Lily. ‘You don’t suppose if we said that one of them was his widow, we could then say the other was one of his comrade’s friends, come to pay last respects?’

‘One look at those ginger curls and they would soon guess the score,’ Esme chipped in.

‘Stop this. This is no time for careless talk…Shame on you! You talk as if we weren’t here. I have come a long way. I am very disappointed. Now I don’t know what to think, and I have no home to go to either.’ Su found herself so angry she was spitting out the words.

‘Steady on, lass, we meant no harm,’ said Lily, reaching out to tap her hand. ‘What if we were to claim one of you as Freddie’s widow and the other the widow of his…cousin, say?’ she offered.

‘What cousin?’ snapped Ivy. ‘Levi has no cousin.’

‘Who’s to know but us? A cousin from down south who was killed in the war. That would explain two Mrs Winstanleys at the funeral and their offspring, and no questions asked,’ she added. ‘I don’t know why I’m concocting all this but it’s better than the truth.’

There was a hush as everyone digested Lily’s plan.

‘I don’t like the idea. They should not be coming to chapel,’ said Ivy.

‘Have a heart,’ said Lily. ‘They’ve every right, and their kiddies too.’

‘Lily’s right. For the sake of those little blighters upstairs we can bend the truth so no one gets hurt.’

‘It’s a downright lie. They haven’t got a wedding ring between them,’ Ivy insisted.

‘Hah!’ laughed the honourable Esme. ‘They’d not be the first women in Grimbleton to go down to Woolworths to buy a brass ring and hope nobody asked for their marriage lines. It’s for appearance’s sake we’re doing this. No one need know but us. Then we can all hold our heads up high. What do you think, ladies?’ she asked.

There was a pebble in Su’s throat, choking any response. Opposite sat her rival, who said nothing, only half understanding the conversation.

‘Ana, we are going to draw lots and choose who is to be number one wife Winstanley-wife of Freddie-and who is number two wife of…’ Su paused to think of a suitable name, ‘of Cedric.’ She bowed her head.

‘Who is Cedric when he’s at home?’ asked Levi, puzzled.

‘I met Cedric on the trek to India, a very nice
American boy. He gave us a tin of cocoa from rations. It saved our lives. I like the name Cedric.’

‘Then you can be his wife,’ Ivy answered with her sour lemon smile.

‘Oh, no! I will be number one wife. I have a British passport and photograph of my intended. Joy Liat is his older daughter so I am number one.’ She was thinking on her feet, but then Ana burst into big sobs and blew her nose on her napkin.

‘These continentals are so emotional,’ said Ivy. ‘She’ll be weeping and wailing in church, making an exhibition of herself. Let them draw lots for who comes and who stays, I say.’

‘There’s no need to get upset. We will leave it to chance. Come on, son, fetch me my hat and some scrap paper. This is the fairest way,’ said Esme as she passed a clean hankie to Ana.

I am dreaming all of this, thought Su: the wind blowing outside the window rattling the panes, rain lashing down on the glass like tears, the flames of the heater and the flickering gaslamps on the walls, the black scarf over the family portrait of my beloved on the mantelpiece. Perhaps I will wake up and it will all be a bad dream. The girl next to me will have disappeared and I will wake in the bunk of the troopship, and my lover will be waiting at the dockside.

This was hardly the way to sort out such a pack of lies and half-truths but it was the best they could manage for the moment, thought Lily. Everyone was punch-drunk with shock and exhaustion, and resistance was
low. Better to sort it out now and get their stories straight from the start.

‘There you go, girl, dip your hand in the hat. You go first.’ Levi was shoving the hat into Susan’s face. She picked out a folded slip of paper but did not open it. Then Ana picked out the other, opened it and smiled.

Lily saw the words, ‘Mrs Winstanley, Mrs Freddie Winstanley, number one widow.’ She sighed and Levi winked at her. It was a fix.

Susan rose from the table without a word and made for the stairs. Ana rose too but Lily held her back.

‘Let her have a few moments to herself. It has been a long day for all of us.’ She turned to Esme. ‘Perhaps it’s for the best if Miss Papawhotsit claims to be his proper wife. Susan has a British passport. Anastasia has nothing going for her but the fact that any dumb cluck can see that Concertina’s a Winstanley.’

The Greek girl sat down promptly.

‘Tell us about Freddie in Athens. How did you meet? Was he well? Tell a grieving mother about her son. How did he look?’ Esme pleaded.

‘I knew him very short time. He is kind man. We go many dances and I teach him Creta dancing. He told me to come…’ Then she burst into tears again.

Lily did her best to comfort her but half her mind was upstairs in the cold bedroom with the weeping Susan, the frozen girl who looked so lost. How could anyone not feel pity for them both?

She tiptoed upstairs, peering into the cot to see the sleeping half-sisters, top and tail, looking like little angels. Her heart was relieved to see that Susan was fast
asleep. By her bedside was the tattered snapshot of Freddie in a Pierrot costume with a golden halo of curls sticking out of his cap, the snapshot the girl had carried halfway across the world. Lily didn’t know whether she wanted to cry or wring her brother’s neck for bringing this trouble to their door.

In that faraway world, he’d given them both comfort and loving. These girls knew lives she could hardly imagine, had journeyed into dark places just to bring their kiddies to safety and find Freddie again. It made her own world seem so small. No wonder Susan found everything so grey here. Their Grimbleton world was colourless and predictable but at least it was safe and would shelter these storm-tossed wanderers for a while…

Freddie would want her to give them protection but how to explain them away? Not even Walt knew the full truth yet. And his mother had a mouth on her the size of Morecambe Bay.

Still, the Almighty in His wisdom had dumped them here for a reason. It was up to Him to sort this lot out, and soon. All she knew was that tomorrow would begin the Winstanley family’s life of lies.

‘Where’ve you been? I thought you’d run away with the coal man,’ whispered Walter as he pecked Lily on the cheek. ‘And what’s all this about Freddie’s wife and kiddy? I never knew he were wed.’

The jungle drums were at work already. Lily sighed as she struggled to bring in the washing from the line in the back yard of his house in Bowker’s Row. It was starting to rain and his mother was dozing in the leather armchair, blissfully unaware. There would be just time to iron Walt a clean shirt and unpack the shopping she had brought before they must set off for the memorial service.

‘We’ve not seen much of you these last weeks,’ yawned Elsie Platt, rubbing her striped brown slippers with holes cut out to accommodate her bunions. Her bulk was wired tightly, like an overstuffed mattress, into a black funeral outfit. A winter coat lay over the back of the chair with a fur tippet and black felt hat. Elsie loved a good funeral tea and a chance to give Waverley House the onceover.

‘Levi says it’s the talk of the Coach and Horses about the foreign girls who turned up at your place. Why am I the last to know anything?’ Walter sniffed, standing over her while she plugged the iron into the lampshade.

‘What’s wrong with the shirt he’s wearing, Lil? It was clean on yesterday,’ Elsie snapped.

It was hard to explain that a clean shirt and cuffs were important when the whole family was on show. Sometimes after a day on the stall and a night in Yates Wine Lodge, Walt was not as Lifebuoy fresh as he ought to be, poor lamb. She blamed Elsie, whose idea of housework was just to keep the smells down in the two up, two down terraced house. That inbred Lancashire pride in being spick and span with bright white nets, donkey-stoned steps and starched washing had somehow passed her by.

The Platts’ weekly wash was a steeping of smalls in the sink and hung out overnight, where it gathered sooty smuts, unless Lily took them back home herself. It wasn’t as if Walt’s mother had anyone else to look after, but it took all sorts, Lily supposed.

The Winstanleys would only pick holes in Walt’s appearance if he turned up shabby. They all needed to put on a united front on this sad occasion. She wanted no more sly digs about his appearance.

‘What’s all this about your Freddie? What’s the sly beggar been up to? I hear there’s nappies on your washing line?’ Elsie sniggered.

‘You’d think folk had nothing better to do than to count washing. It’s a long story and we’ve not time to be
gossiping when there’s a service to be going to. I’ve brought the van to give you both a lift.’

‘His back won’t stand it in the rear of that, dear. You’d better take me and return for him later,’ said Elsie, rising to don her outdoor finery. ‘Will there be a collection? It’ll have to be a widow’s mite from me. You know how we are placed.’

‘I expect so, but don’t worry about it. You’ll have to make do as best you can with one trip, though. It’s not far and I’m running out of time.’

Did they think she was a taxi service and a laundry maid? There were a hundred jobs on her list and no time to get dressed properly. They were lucky that guilt at neglecting Walt had made her come early to sort them out. He was hopeless without her chivvying him up. That was one of the things she loved about him. He
needed
her.

When they arrived at Waverley House there was another fuss going on.

‘They’re not going dressed like that?’ Ivy stared at these new upstarts. She was bedecked in a dark suit with a fox fur draped over her shoulders. ‘Here, I found some mittens for them to cover their fingers. It’s chilly outside. I hope there’s a good turnout. We don’t want these two showing us up, do we?’

This was not a fashion parade or a celebration, thought Lily with only five minutes to tear off her old clothes and put on her winter best frock and tired coat. There was no time even to powder her nose. Usually Ivy would have nothing to do with Ana and Susan, sniffing down her nose every time they came in a room,
and the offer of a pair of knitted gloves each was only so they could hide their ringless fingers from view.

The family assembled outside the house for the short walk to Zion Chapel, ambling slowly, flanking the two strangers on all sides to keep them out of view. There was a goodly crowd gathered by the church steps, waiting for the family to process in.

It was left to Lily to kit out Ana and Susan for church with warm coats and hats, stockings and suitable underwear for the chilly climate. They had no coupons for anything new.

Susan was so tiny she fitted into Lily’s old school gaberdine mac with a lined hood. Ana was wrapped in Grandma Crompton’s old fur coat, which hardly fitted across her swollen bust. But winter was coming early this year. They would not look out of place all muffled up.

Lily held little Joy’s hand as she struggled on the slippery pavement in her pixie hood and warm gaiters. Word was out about the strangers at Waverley House pushing a pram. It did cross her mind that half the crowd might be gathered today just to ogle. Esme covered her black hat with net veiling to hide her grief and her confusion. She was very quiet, too quiet, and Lily wondered how they would get through the service without someone breaking down. There was nothing to do but brazen it out.