Under the Apple Tree (46 page)

carefully, ‘You’ll need to prepare yourself for another bit of

news when you get home.’

Judy stared at him. ‘Another bit of news? Why, what else

has happened?’ Her eyes sharpened. ‘You said everyone was all right.’

‘They are, love. They’re all fine - well, as fine as can be

expected, in the circs. But there’s summat else - look, it

ain’t for me to tell you. I just thought you ought to be

prepared, that’s all.’

‘I can’t follow all this,’ Judy said despairingly. ‘You’ll

have to write it down. Oh, I hate being deaf!’

He looked at her sympathetically and felt in his pockets

for paper and a pencil. But all he had was the train tickets,

and neither of them had anything to write with. They gave

up and sat helplessly gazing at each other. Something else?

Judy thought. What can it be? Oh, I wish he hadn’t said it!

And yet, she knew that it was better for her to be prepared.

It would make it easier for the family to tell her.

The train rumbled on through Botley and Fareham, and

then along the top of the harbour. Judy stared out at the

expanse of water stretching away to the south, and thought

of Terry’s last leave. She had seen the great ship he was on,

and stood on the Sallyport to watch it sail away through the

narrow neck of the harbour. Now it was at the bottom of the

sea, somewhere off Greenland, and only three of its great

crew of almost fifteen hundred men would ever return.

Judy stared at her mother in disbelief. ‘Jean Foster’s having

a baby?’

Now, more than ever, she hated her deafness. To have to

stare at people’s mouths as they spoke, unable to understand

any but the most obvious words, or wait while they wrote

things down, pausing as they wondered how to spell the

words - all that was bad enough. But now, with everyone

talking at once about these new events, so important to them

all, turning to each other and speaking too quickly for her to

follow, was nothing short of agonising. I wish I’d never gone

back to that building, she thought bitterly. It didn’t do any

good, and we nearly lost Polly as well.

‘What are you saying?’ she asked loudly, so that they all stopped talking and turned to her. ‘What’s the use of me

coming back if you won’t even tell me what’s going on?’ Her

shock and distress over Terry, the hurried return home and

now the news of the baby had left her shaken and on edge,

ready either to burst into tears all over again or to lose her

temper completely. ‘Don’t I matter any more?’ she went on,

aware that she was shouting. ‘Can’t anyone even be bothered

to look at me when they’re talking? I feel as if I’m in a glass jar - I can see your mouths moving, but all I can hear is a

sort of woolly sound. I can’t make out any words, and I feel

so left out, and it’s awful. Awful!’ Temper and tears came

together then, and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing

wildly. ‘You don’t know what it’s like! None of you knows

what it’s like!’

‘Oh, Judy!’ Arms came around her and hands patted her

back. Over her head, Cissie and Polly looked at each other.

‘She’s right,’ Polly said in a low voice, although there was

no danger of Judy’s overhearing her. ‘We do leave her out,

and it’s not fair. Terry was her brother and she’s just as

upset about it all as we are. We’ve got to do our best to help

her.’

‘It’s not that I don’t want to,’ Cissie said in distress. ‘I’d

do anything I can to help her. But I can’t help just saying

what comes into my head, and I forget to look at her all the

time.’ She tightened her arms around Judy’s bent shoulders.

‘To be honest, I wonder if it was a bit selfish to ask her to

come home. I want her here, I really do, but maybe it was

better for her to be out in the country. She seemed to be

settling down so well out there.’

‘I think she’d have come whatever we said,’ Polly said.

‘Joe told me it was the first thing she said, that she’d come

home. She said we’d need her.’

She sighed. Joe had refused even to stop for a cup of tea

after delivering Judy at the door. ‘You’ve got your own

troubles,’ he’d told her on the doorstep of number nine.

‘You don’t want strangers around. I’ll be in touch.’ And then he’d gone, limping away up the street and turning at

the corner to wave a cheery hand, and she realised that she

didn’t even know what he was going to do next. Would he

get a train back to London, or was he staying somewhere in

Portsmouth? She had followed Judy indoors feeling frustrated.

‘And

so we do need her,’ Cissie said. ‘I need her, and so

does Dick. We all need her.’ She put her hand under Judy’s

chin and lifted the wet, swollen face, speaking slowly and

clearly. ‘Judy, we’re all glad you’ve come home. We need

you here. Do you understand that? We need you.’

Judy drew in a ragged breath and nodded, trying to smile.

‘OK, Mum. Sorry. It’s just - well, it’s all been such a

shock.’ She twisted her lips ruefully. ‘It must have been an

awful shock for you too, hearing that from Jean. What’s she

going to do?’

‘We don’t know yet. We only found out this morning.’

Cissie shook her head wonderingly. It seemed as if an age

had passed since they had spoken to Jean in the shop. ‘Your

grandma thinks we ought to help her to keep the baby.’

‘Keep it?’ It was a moment or two before Judy fully

understood what she was saying. ‘But how could she, all on

her own? What about her parents?’

Alice had been writing on an old envelope, and passed it

to Judy. She read the words aloud. ‘It’s Terry’s baby, and

there’ll never be another one. It’s my great-grandchild. I don’t want it to go to strangers. Oh Gran,’ she said. ‘Oh Gran, of

course you don’t.’

Dick spoke up from his corner. He had been silent during

the halting conversation, retreating there after first greeting Judy with a brief kiss. ‘That’s all very well. But it’s not easy for a young woman on her own with a little ‘un.’

‘You don’t have to tell me that!’ Alice’s voice was sharp.

She had not yet forgiven him for his assumption that, in her

house and her kitchen, he was the master. ‘I brought up two on my own after my hubby died. Of course it’s not easy!’

‘Yes, but they were the right side of the blanket,’ Dick

retorted. ‘Not by-blows, like Jean’s is going to be!’

For a moment, it looked as if the quarrel would break out

again. Alice and Dick glared at each other, while Judy stared

at them in uncomprehending astonishment. Then Cissie put

both hands on their shoulders and spoke with unusual

firmness.

‘Now, you needn’t start that all over again! We had all

that out before our Judy got here and she didn’t come all

this way to watch you two squabbling. Just you calm down,

Dick, you’ll make yourself ill getting your rag out like that,

and we’ve got enough on our plates without having you back

in hospital. And while I’m thinking about it, you might say

sorry to Polly for the way you behaved to Mr Turner. I’m

sure he never wanted to intrude on family problems, and

he’s been a real help, going out to fetch our Judy and all, but from the way you acted, anyone would have thought he’d

come to pinch all the family silver. Supposing we’d got any

to pinch,’ she added, and Dick, who had been staring at her

in astonishment, suddenly laughed. ‘There,’ she said,

smiling, ‘that’s better.’

‘Well, I suppose you’re right, Cis,’ he said, and looked

over at Polly. ‘Sorry, Poll, but I didn’t know what to think

when I found him here, and what with the shock over Terry

and then Jean, I was knocked all of a heap … And I’m sorry

to you too, Ma,’ he went on, turning to Alice. ‘You’re right,

we ought to give the girl a hand. It’s not the time to start

argufying over things that can’t be altered.’ He glanced at

Judy, who was once again watching them in bewilderment.

‘And here we are, leaving our Judy out again. Don’t worry,

gal, we haven’t forgot you. We’re glad to have you home

again.’

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Polly said. ‘Judy and Jean are pretty

good friends. Why don’t we ask her to go round and have a

talk? Tell her what we’ve been thinking, see if we can do anything.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Alice said at once, and when they

conveyed this idea to Judy she nodded.

‘I will, if she wants to see me. She might feel awkward,

though.’

‘Not with you. You’ve known each other all your lives.

You were in the same class at school.’

‘I mean, because of me not being able to hear,’ Judy said,

but they shook their heads and Polly said she would let Judy

use the writing-pad she’d been saving for writing to Sylvie.

‘AH right, I’ll go round tomorrow. It’s too late now.’

‘You’re right,’ Alice said, looking at the clock. ‘It’s almost

nine o’clock. Time for the news.’

They looked at each other. It was on last night’s news that

they’d heard of the sinking of HMS Hood. Only twenty-four

hours ago!

‘It seems like a lifetime,’ Polly said soberly, and the others

nodded. This time last night, they’d been more or less

happy, thinking that Terry was still alive. Now, knowing

not only that he must be dead but that he’d left his

sweetheart pregnant, everything had changed.

Nobody had the heart to switch the wireless on for

tonight’s news. They’d had enough of news for a while,

Polly thought as she went out to the scullery to make cocoa.

Enough for a long time. In fact, if she had her way she’d

never listen to the news again.

You couldn’t just ignore it, though. You had to know

what was going on. You had to care about other people as

well as yourself, or why should they care about you? And

even if you’d never wanted the war in the first place, even

though nobody had asked your opinion nor listened if you

gave it, you were still a part of it all. You had to stand by

what was right.

And that went for what was happening in the family too.

You had to stand by what was right - and Gran was right

about this. Jean Foster’s baby - Terry’s baby - was a part of their family, a part that would be all they had left of Terry

himself. What was done was done, and they would all do

their best by the girl Terry had loved, and the baby she

bore.

What’s done is done, Polly repeated to herself. Who

knows? Maybe in the end we’ll be glad of it.

Judy went round to see Jean Foster the next evening,

thinking that she would probably have gone to work as usual

in the morning. She found her friend looking wan and red

eyed, picking listlessly at a plate of boiled fish and mashed

potatoes.

‘Perhaps you can talk some sense into her,’ Mrs Foster

said, leading Judy past a door leading to a front room that

looked like a furniture shop showroom, with a three-piece

suite daintily attired in lace antimacassars and a small

occasional table with china figurines arranged upon it. She

took her into an almost equally tidy back room. ‘Done

nothing but cry her eyes out, she has, ever since she heard,

but I’ve told her, it’s no use letting it all get on top of you.

You’ve made your bed, my girl, and now you’ve got to lay

in it,’ she said to her daughter in a sharp, exasperated voice.

‘And it’s no good piping your eye all day over what can’t be

mended.’

Judy heard none of this but could tell from Mrs Foster’s

expression and gestures what sort of thing she was saying.

She gave Jean a sympathetic smile and touched her ears.

‘I’ve brought some paper for you to write on. It makes

things easier. Could we go up to your bedroom or

somewhere, so we don’t disturb everyone else?’

‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ Mrs Foster cried. ‘Jean doesn’t tell me what she’s doing. Nor her dad, neither. Well, go on then,’ she snapped, seeing that Judy had not understood. ‘I

don’t mind doing the washing-up, I’m sure, seeing as you’ve

got company.’

Judy followed the other girl up the stairs. Mr Foster was a foreman in the Dockyard on a good wage and the Fosters’

house was larger than Alice’s, with three bedrooms and an

indoor lavatory (which Mrs Foster called the WC) and

bathroom. It had nice front rooms too, with rounded bay

windows, and a little patch of front garden. Jean’s room was

at the back, overlooking a larger garden with a patch of

lawn, and a small, neat vegetable plot, together with the

inevitable Anderson shelter. I bet they’ve got proper chairs

and a table down there, Judy thought, with a fresh white

tablecloth every Sunday!

The girls sat down on Jean’s bed, rumpling the bright

green satin bedspread, and Jean drew in a deep breath and

burst into tears. Judy put her arm around her shoulders, but

her own grief overtook her and they wept together for

several minutes, mourning the brother and the sweetheart

who had been taken from them. I seem to have been here

before, Judy thought, remembering the pain of losing Sean,

and she held Jean tightly against her, scarcely knowing

whether she did so to give comfort or to receive it.