Vera's Valour (13 page)

“Yes, of course I trust you,” she said decisively.

He lower his head to kiss her lightly on her cheek and to and brush her hair tidy with his fingers, “I’d like you to get me a few things while you’re in town.”

Doing a bit of shopping would make a nice break. She would be able to get a few things for herself too. Although they were well provided with basic foodstuffs there were other things she’d been meaning to get from town, spices for cooking and some hair shampoo, when she had the opportunity to get there.

“Write a list of what you want and I’ll do my best,” she said hurrying to put on her coat, hat and gloves before she changed her mind. “Victor’s sleeping at the moment, when he wakes pop him into his playpen with his toys, and give him drink of milk and a rusk to nibble?”

“Am I allow one too?”

Vera smiled. “Only one each,” she replied. This was the first time he’d shown his sense of the humour she knew of old. It was so good to hear she went back and kissed him on the lips, then rushed out of the cottage with a wide grin on her face, calling back to him, “I must dash or I’ll miss the bus.”

Having the tooth pulled was unpleasant, but the dentist assured her it was necessary. But having the pleasure of shopping – even with a sore gum, allowed her to forget it as she scurried around Lynn, collecting the things on Geoff’s list and searching for her own requirements. Especially as the war time shops looked drab and so many things were on the ration.

“Here’s a nice pre-war shampoo,” said the chemist’s assistant quietly showing it to Vera so that no one else would see. “I found some in the storeroom the other day when I was tidying it up. I want to offer it to my regular customers, and you and your Mum have been shopping here for years.”

“Thanks,” whispered Vera, paying for the bottle and quickly putting in into her shopping bag so that no other customer could see it. “It’ll make me all glamorous like a film star!”

“Your husband will like that. And how’s Mr Parkington – the Colonel, I mean?”

“He’s getting on fine. He’s looking after our little son, Victor, which reminds me I should be getting back. The bus leaves in ten minutes.”

She would have liked to have had the time to pop into the British Restaurant and see the girls – but she didn’t want to have to wait another hour or so for a later one. And seated on the bus, she began to be worried about little Victor – was he all right with Geoff?

And then she began to wonder what Geoff would do when he was demobbed from the army, as he would be after his serious injuries. What job could he do? What would he like to do?

She could continue in the catering trade. Cooking was her art. She would have to think where she could work when the war was over – and it did seem, listening to the BBC News that the war in Europe would be over soon. Of course there were still the Japaneses to beat, but the Americans were making good progress on that front.

So engrossed in her thoughts, Vera almost missed her stop and had to get up quickly with her packages and press the bell for the driver to stop.

He did stop a little after the proper bus stop because Vera was so slow telling him, that she wanted to get off. And she had to walk back about a quarter of a mile.

The dogs were the first to greet her and she thought it a pity they couldn’t carry her shopping.

By the time she got back to the cottage she felt exhausted. Kicking her shoes off by the front door, and taking off her outdoor clothes, she listened.

There was no sound of Geoff - or the baby.

Panic rose in her breast, as she looked around.

Then she spied Geoff sitting in his armchair with Victor in his arms. He was cuddling him and talking to his tiny son, “Now I consider that very careless of your mother to go and miss the bus, don’t you, Victor?”

The child looked up fearlessly into his father’s eyes and dribbled as he put his small thumb in his mouth.

Together they made a beautiful picture of father and child, and for Vera it seemed that having to look after the child had allowed Geoff to get in touch with his emotions again. Because he’d nothing to explain to the baby, or the dogs, about his wartime fears and worries, they accepted him as someone who loved them - as they loved Geoff. His past troubles and injuries were over, all that concerned them was the future.

Geoff went on, “We’ll have to train her to do better than that. One rusk is not enough to keep us men going for long is it?”

Tears formed in Vera’s eyes. It was plain to see that Geoff was happy with his child – and Victor was happy too. Overjoyed, she called, “I’m sorry. I forget to ring the bell to tell the driver I wanted to get off, and he kindly stopped further on, and I had to walk back.”

As he looked at her, Vera felt embarrassed to have wet eyes and turned abruptly saying, “ I’ll put the kettle on. What do you fancy for your supper?”

“Trust a woman to think of an excuse to be late,” she heard Geoff say.

A little later he called to her, “We want to know if your tooth’s OK?”

“Gone,” she replied, from the kitchen as she put the shopping on the table calling back so he could hear. ”Now I hope I’ve managed to get all the things you wanted. I found some catgut – but what on earth you want that for I can’t think.”

He rose and put the baby back into his playpen then came in behind her saying, “Thank you for getting it,” and picked up the packet containing the string set. It’s for my violin.”

“I didn’t know you had a musical instrument.”

“Well, I have. It’s somewhere in the loft.”

“Well I never! So you are going to entertain us?”

“I’ll have to get it restrung at first. Then I’ll make sure you are out when I start practising.”

“Oh thanks,” Vera said, imagining the unpleasant sounds that a violin could make until it wasn’t tuned properly. “If that’s what you want, go ahead.”

“Vera, all I really want, is you.”

She loved the feeling of his arms firmly around her, thrilled that his emotions were returning, and asked, “and you want Victor too, I hope, now that you’ve become acquainted?”

He kissed her neck and held her so close she had to beg to be released to be able to make the tea as the kettle started boiling, gushing white smoke.

“Of course, Victor too,” he assured her, gently slapping her behind. “Now get on with making our tea if you please.”

He sounded like the real Geoff again and she realised a great hurdle in his recovery had been overcome.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THINGS suddenly seemed to Vera to happen rapidly.

First, the newsreader could barely hide his emotion as he read the news telling all those listening around their radios that the war in Europe had come to and end. After all the heartaches, the losses and privations, a joyous feeling swept the land. The church bells rang and people smiled at each other. Four grim war years were over, and so many things in Britain had changed. And although victory over the Japanese still had to be won, it seemed right to celebrate the conquering of Hitler and all the evil he’d caused.

“Of course, it won’t increase our bread rations,” Vera told her baby who just laughed and gurgled at her. “But by the time you are old enough to want some sandwiches young man, there should be as much as you want to make you grow into a strong man like your father. And the bakers won’t be bake the awful grey stuff they call bread these days. No, you’ll have the lovely white bread the bakers made before the war.”

Victor was now six months old and thriving. Like his father – who’d thrown over his injuries and was becoming his normal self again. He’d taken up playing the violin. Vera didn’t particularly like hearing the violin – neither did the dogs – but Victor seemed to like it. And as Geoff practised and became more competent, he joined a small musical group in Lynn. They met together for musical evenings. All the musicians liked it when they met at the cottage because Vera always managed to make them some delicious refreshments.

“How does you wife manage to make such lovely things to eat?” they asked Geoff.

“She is a marvellous cook – why else do you think I married her?”

Vera grinned at everyone enjoying eating her food - and got her own back by telling them that their planned concert at the local goal was unfair on the prisoners because they were a captive audience!

Now Vera faced another challenge. She had a Victory Feast had to prepare.

She’d been asked by Margaret to be in charge of the British Restaurant’s grand party for hundreds people who planned to celebrate VE Day at the restaurant. The tables would spill out into the street, and the children were wild with excitement as for many it was to be the first party in their lives.

But Vera had to conjure up a memorable feast for everyone – with war rations!

“I can’t possibly do it!” Vera cried, throwing down her pencil as she was trying to work out some recipes at home.

“Yes, you can,” retorted Geoff, putting down the newspaper and getting up he walked over to the table to sit with Vera. “If I can help build Mulberrry, then you can feed the five hundred!” He put his large hand over hers and squeezed it gently.

Encouraged, Vera turned to lift her face to kiss him saying, “You’re right. I shall do it - somehow.”

It helped when she received a surprise parcel of tinned food from the American Army Store, sent by Freda’s owner, with more photos of the grown dog and Vera was able to explain to Geoff why she’d taken the puppy over to England, and tell him about the American Officer who had offered to look after Freda.

But she had the feeling Geoff didn’t like the idea of her having a secret American friend – was he jealous? Or maybe he thought she’d had an affair with him, and that Victor was his child? Surely not!

Anyway, the extra tins of American meats and fruits were most welcome to help her organise the food for the party.

On the day before the party she went into Lynn again to discuss the preparation of the food with the girls at the British Restaurant.

Seeing Mabel she said, “I hope you’re not going to try and kick me out of the building this time!”

Mabel grinned. “Come on in, Vera, I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

Having helped the girls clear away the pots and pans, after the mid-day dinner, they all sat around the big kitchen table.

“And how is little Victor – I’m dying to see him again.” Sally, who loved babies, wanted to know everything she could about him, and Vera, being a proud mum, was happy to give her all the details – until Margaret interrupted.

“How’s Geoff?”

Vera’s face became serious. “Well, he’s improving. Slowly.”

“Not back to his old self?”

“Not entirely. He still has a little way to go yet.”

Sally asked, “Will he always be mentally ill?”

Margaret scolded Sally, “You shouldn’t have said that!”

Vera put up her hands and looked at both women, “Margaret, Sally is only saying what you all must want to know. So I can tell you that he is recovering well from his war wounds. Both physically and mentally you wouldn’t really know what he had suffered now . . . but . . . ”

She swallowed, not able to tell them that two major difficulties remained that spoilt their relationship. That they were not lovers, and that Geoff, although he obviously loved Victor, did not recognise that he was his son?

All the girls were looking at her intently.

A lot had happened to her in the past year. Vera felt she had changed, from being a bride annoyed that her husband was so untidy and harassed about his work, to a woman who had tasted the war first hand. She’d seen death and destruction – and also she’d given birth to a beautiful boy and was now a seasoned mum. Seeing everything in perspective, she could say, “It is difficult for me to explain exactly how Geoff has still to overcome all of his dreadful injuries - but I hope and pray that he will continue to improve, and soon he’ll be able to work again.”

“Will he stay in the army?”

“No. I think he’ll choose something else to do.”

“Is he capable to taking on something new?”

Vera knew that they were only questioning her because they liked her husband and wished him well. She smiled, “Well, he’s taken up playing the violin.”

She was aware of the hushed silence around her.

“Colonel Parkington a fiddler?” Sally was always the first to express what everyone thought.

Vera laughed. “Yes, much to the horror of my ears at times, he has taken down the violin he played at school and now plays with a musical group once or twice a week.”

“I think that’s wonderful!” said Gladys, the kindly volunteer lady, who should have gone home hours ago but wanted to stay and see Vera.

Vera looked at Gladys, who had been one of her first helpers when she started the British Restaurant, and gave her a special smile. “I think so to, Gladys. Even though I admit at times his scrapping makes me what to scream. But Victor loves the racket.”

“Will he come and play at the party?” little Mary wanted to know. “I’d love to see Colonel Parkington again.”

“Yes, yes, “ the girls agreed. “We all love him – he’s so handsome.”

“He looks just like the film star, Gregory Peck.”

Vera smiled wryly. “I’ll ask him – although you may be sorry you asked him when he hear him play!”

“He won’t play that dreary classical stuff, will he? ” Sally asked making a face.

Vera assured her that he would be sure to choose some light music for the party.

“Anyway the reason we are here is to discuss the food for the party – tomorrow - so we’d better get on with it, or there’ll be nothing for the party goers to eat.”

Everything was considered and a decisions made about who was going to make what from the list of sausage rolls, jam tarts, iced buns, jellies, trifles, ginger cakes, oaty biscuits and dozens more dishes to make the make the feast memorable.

By the time the meeting broke up, Vera had managed to convince them all that the food could be fun to make – and that there wouldn’t be more than a few crumbs for the birds left when the party was over.

* * *

She got home on the bus exhausted - and was not pleased to see a strange car parked outside the cottage.