Wartime Brides (38 page)

Charlotte rose slowly from the floor. ‘Why not?’

He pushed his hat back off his forehead, then hitched his thumbs into his braces like older men did. He looked serious. ‘I fink it’s a good idea to keep Edna away from ’im for now. Won’t hurt, will it. He gotta get used to the idea first as last. And ’e will. Mark my words, ’e definitely will.’

Charlotte considered. ‘You’re probably right. Perhaps she should go home to her mother.’

Billy spluttered, then grinned. ‘Oh I don’t fink so. She’s enough to make anyone suicidal. Besides, if she ’adn’t forced her to marry without telling Colin about the kiddie, this might never ’ave ’appened. Anyway, you got a great big ’ouse. You could take her in.’ He beamed broadly as though everything in life was surmountable and nothing was too difficult to fix. ‘Now, that’s no problem, is it?’ he added.

No, it wasn’t a problem.

‘Then that’s settled then. I’ve dropped Colin at ’ome. I’ll keep an eye on ’im and you can keep an eye on ’er.’

He had left her there to explain to Edna. Despite all that she was and all that she had been, the task she now faced filled her with the utmost dread.

Chapter Twenty

THE GARDEN PATH
at number eight York Street was narrow with hardly room for two. A few sprouts grew on one side of the path, and a cockerel clucked from a home-made cage on the other. Billy persisted in following Polly, unburdening his worries about Colin, the toy industry and what he would do if Colin did something stupid.

‘Stupid? What do you mean, stupid?’ Polly said quickly.

She had no intention of lingering over the problem. Sheets, pillowcases, and even underwear, were all as stiff as boards thanks to an early evening frost. She could feel the cold right through to her vest.

‘Well, do you fink he might do ’imself in?’ Billy asked.

Polly threw him a knowing look. ‘Now you’re the one being stupid!’

‘But ’ow do I get him to understand that going astray during wartime don’t make her a tart? Things were frightening. I was scared and so was everyone else around here. It’s understandable. And you know as well as I do,
Poll
, you could get away with blue murder in the blackout. But if you like someone enough, none of that matters, does it?’

Mouth full of clothes pegs, Polly declined to answer. Each extra peg she quickly passed to Billy and continued quickly to gather more. Whether he knew it or not, he had just said the words she’d been waiting for. He knew everything there was to know about her past, yet still he wanted her.

She spat the pegs into the peg bag and said, ‘Make yerself useful while yer ’ere Billy and bring that fowl coop into the kitchen. Rather me wring their necks than some thieving git out to make a shilling!’

By the time they got indoors, Billy with his pockets full of clothes pegs and Polly hidden behind an armful of stiff laundry, Meg had the kettle boiled and three cups of milky cocoa stood on the table. Carol was sitting in a laundry basket playing with a ball of wool, soggy on one side from continuous chewing.

Lured by the thought of hot cocoa, they quickly forgot about taking the chickens in.

Billy winced and clutched at his Adam’s apple. Polly and Meg laughed and the conversation turned back to Edna and Colin.

‘It’s a shame,’ said Meg, as they discussed what to do.

‘I’m going to go round and ’ave a go at him,’ Billy stated, drained his cup and got to his feet.

Polly followed him to the front door.

‘You could invite him round for Christmas,’ Meg shouted out behind them.

‘My God,’ Polly exclaimed. ‘ ’Ark at her. It’s only one cockerel we’ve got and he’s only got two legs, not six!’

Billy smiled like he usually did, but she sensed it was only a front. He was taking it hard about Colin and Edna.

From habit ingrained during the blackout, Polly turned the light out. She would normally have opened the door straightaway and told him to get on with it, but the fact that they were together in the darkness seemed to influence her emotions.

On sudden impulse she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him passionately. He responded immediately, his technique influenced by enthusiasm more than experience.

‘I want to marry you, Polly,’ he said, his voice breathless but happy.

‘So you should!’ said Polly.

He beamed broadly before marching off down the street and Polly watched him go.

The curtains in the house opposite twitched suspiciously. Resting one hand on her hip and raising the other, Polly mimicked Churchill’s famous ‘vee’ sign. ‘Bugger you all,’ she cried out loud. ‘I’m gonna be married!’

Once Carol was back with Polly, Edna had no excuse not to go to the orphanage, though for now she hardly felt inclined to do so.

How could anyone understand how she felt? Seeing Sherman, if his potential parents had brought him back, would be like betraying Colin all over again. But
Charlotte
managed to persuade her to go. The babies and the older children looked forward to company. Janet and Geoffrey accompanied them, their arms full of discarded toys from their childhood that the orphanage could make good use of.

As they drove out of the city, Charlotte said to Edna, ‘They may well ask you to sign the adoption papers.’

Edna nodded listlessly. ‘Yes.’ Then she turned away to look at the dreary scene outside the window. Christmas, the season of feasting and merriment, yet there were still queues at the baker’s, the greengrocer’s and, especially, the butcher’s, where the chickens, ducks and geese were lean and turkeys non-existent. Goodness knows whether there’d be anything left at all by Christmas Eve.

The shock she had felt on the day that she’d clinched the deal with Mr Lewis was still with her. Charlotte had been terribly kind to take her in and she should feel grateful. But she felt only loss. First her child, then her husband. Like a rope of seaweed she was drifting on the tide with nothing to cling to and nowhere to go. Even making small talk was too great an effort. Only Janet had managed to get a decent conversation out of her. Janet had talked of the future and how they had entered an atomic age when, if another war occurred, tomorrow might never come.

Edna had listened patiently. Young as she was, Janet was earnest about her beliefs and what she intended to do. No more education; like those in the war, she wanted to grab what life she could, no matter what the consequences.

‘It’s my life. I can do with it as I please. If I want to get
married
, I will, and if I want babies, I will. But I won’t be like my mother. My life will never ever revolve around the family and other people’s problems.’

Edna was about to protest that Charlotte was a good wife, a good person, when she found herself wondering about her own family. Her mother had dominated her life and, to some extent, ruined it. Ethel had tried to mould her daughter to what she wanted her to be. Edna had never been allowed to be herself. Mothers, she now realised, had a lot to answer for.

The rest of the journey passed in a haze. What would she do with her life if Colin put her aside? The future looked empty. But there again, if Sherman wasn’t adopted, perhaps she could make some sort of a life with him. After all, Polly seemed to manage, but of course, she thought with sudden despair, Polly had her Aunty Meg. There was also the distinct possibility that Billy would marry her judging by the look in his eyes and the fact that he let her walk all over him.

When they got to the orphanage, Charlotte insisted that the toys were taken to Matron’s office first. Edna hung back, apprehension gnawing at her stomach. Once that job had been completed, Charlotte, Janet and Geoffrey prepared to go. Edna would have followed them, but Matron intervened.

‘Miss Burbage. If I could have a word with you.’

The nervousness turned like a knife in her stomach. Charlotte patted her arm and gave her a smile as much as to say, ‘Chin up. Be brave.’ But she wasn’t brave. She had never been allowed to be brave.

Matron got up from behind her desk, passed behind her and closed the door.

Edna wondered why she didn’t ask her to sit down.

Matron explained. ‘I knew you were coming today. Mrs Hennessey-White told me. You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?’

Edna, wishing away her tears, merely nodded.

Matron opened a buff-coloured folder. ‘I have the papers.’ She paused. Edna held her breath, her whole body numb with the terrible finality of what she was going to be asked to do.

‘Before you sign,’ Matron went on, ‘I have some people in the visitors’ waiting room that I feel you should meet. It’s not usual for us to do this; in fact, if I’m found out it may very well mean my job. But when I told them about you, Sherman’s potential parents promised that they would keep our little secret. They’re in the next room.’

Edna was speechless. This was a turn of events she had not expected. Quite what she would have done if asked merely to sign the forms, she wasn’t sure. She might have signed quickly then run out of the door before the tears came. Or she might have refused altogether and insisted on Sherman being returned to her.

Weak with indecision, her legs shook as Matron led her to the waiting room. The door was slightly ajar. From within she heard the happy sounds of a contented baby. The sound clawed at her heart.

Sherman! Her pace quickened. She hadn’t seen him for weeks! She rushed into the room, vaguely aware of a man
in
a well-cut suit and a woman in a dark red costume with black velvet around the collar and cuffs.

‘Sherman’s mother,’ said Matron to the well-dressed couple.

Edna rushed past her. ‘Sherman!’

He turned his big brown eyes on her and she smiled her warmest smile and held out her arms. To her great astonishment, his smile diminished.

‘Sherman!’ she said again. ‘Don’t you recognise me?’

She took hold of him with both hands meaning to wrench him away from this woman if need be and cuddle him close to herself. Sherman’s bottom lip trembled and, to Edna’s surprise and sorrow, he buried his head in the shoulder of the woman who’d been mothering him for the last three weeks.

It was completely unexpected. First Colin and now this!

‘He’s my baby!’ she said to the woman. She turned to the man. ‘My baby!’

Matron gently touched her arm. ‘Edna. These people – she was careful not to reveal their names – have been looking after Sherman for the last three weeks. They’ve grown very attached to him, as he has to them.’

‘We adore him,’ the man said, his voice warm and gentle, his dark brown eyes glowing with sincerity.

Suddenly Edna felt very small and very stupid. The flaws in her nature burst into her mind like a newly cracked egg. She was indecisive, weak and cowardly. Her knees buckled slightly. She studied the couple closely, the man with his arm around the woman, the woman cuddling Sherman close and he looking up at her trustingly as
babies
do to their mothers. They cared for him deeply. She could see it.

Matron, sensing her feelings, took hold of her arm. ‘Let me get you a cup of tea.’

She led Edna back to her office. Edna was forlornly aware of being steered somewhere, but unsure exactly where she was going. The vision of Sherman and the way he had looked at the woman was so vivid in her mind.

She was aware of Matron explaining that she was going to leave her for a few minutes. The final forms for adoption were duly slid in front of her, the last hurdle between her old life and the new.

Matron’s voice was businesslike but understanding. ‘It’s up to you at the end of the day. He’s your baby and so, in my opinion at least, it’s up to you to decide his future, not your mother. I’ll leave you to think about it.’

The door closed softly, leaving her alone in a room where only Matron’s certificates of professional qualification relieved the institutional blandness of the eggshell blue walls.

Time ticked by. She hardly noticed anything. Even the papers were no more than a blank whiteness on the desk in front of her as images of her life swam before her: her mother, always dictating, and her father, always placating; Colin, her friend since childhood who had slipped an engagement ring onto her finger before going off to play the hero. There’d been no talk of marriage before he’d done that, so why hadn’t she protested?

Now she remembered bombs falling like dead birds and the scream of the siren as she ran to the shelters, the news
of
defeats, the fear of jack-booted armies marching through the city, then meeting Jim.

Someone to care for, someone to care about her; that’s how she remembered it. She’d found out she was pregnant. He’d been transferred to somewhere in the Pacific once his commanding officer had found out how far things had gone. But through it all he’d been adamant about writing and not shirking his responsibilities. And he’d kept his word. The parcels were testimony to that, good quality clothes from a country where there was no queuing for such luxuries as fresh fruit, no arguing over uncut pieces of parachute silk, no cutting down of blankets to make into coats.

But what about her responsibilities? Guilt, and that awful word ‘if’ accompanied that particular thought. If she hadn’t met Jim, if she hadn’t felt lonely and frightened, if she had not allowed her mother to pressurise her into having Sherman adopted.

The list of ‘ifs’ was endless.

She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. The biggest ‘if’ of all was Colin. If only she’d told him in a letter or the minute he’d got home, things could have been different. No words had been spoken and yet she was guilty of lying. Amends had to be made – if it wasn’t too late. Courage was never her strongest point, yet she had to be courageous now if anyone was to benefit from this. Above all else it was obvious that a bond had formed between Sherman and his prospective mother.

By the time Matron’s footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, the tea on the table had long turned cold.

Matron entered silently, her expression both
sympathetic
and anxious. ‘Have you come to a decision, dear?’ she asked.

Edna nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said falteringly, then coughed and cleared her throat. ‘Yes. I have.’