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Authors: Margaret Dickinson

Tags: #Fiction, #Sagas, #Historical, #Romance, #20th Century, #General

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BOOK: Welcome Home
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As if she wasn’t mad enough now, Lil thought sadly.

Tommy was eating his meal neatly, using his knife and fork correctly. He’s been well trained, Lil thought.

‘Did you go to the village school, Tommy?’

The boy swallowed the mouthful before replying. ‘Yes, Grandma. I like it there. I shouldn’t really have gone before I’m five, but they let me start early. Just for half a day.
Will I have to go to school here now?’ The little boy was well-mannered and articulate for his age.

‘I – I expect so.’ Lil faltered. ‘Unless, of course . . .’ Her voice trailed away as a sudden thought struck her.

Maybe it would be best if they went back to the farm. Were Mr and Mrs Schofield prepared to have them back because one of their sons
was
the baby girl’s father?

‘Did you – um – see Mr and Mrs Schofield’s sons much?’

‘No. They never came home.’

‘Not all the time you were there?’

Tommy shook his head as he set his knife and fork neatly side by side on the empty plate. ‘May I have some pudding, please, Grandma?’

‘Oh – I’m sorry, I haven’t made any pudding.’

Tommy pouted for a moment. ‘Mrs Schofield
always
made pudding.’

‘I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to make one tomorrow.’ That’s if, she thought to herself, you’re still here.

As Lil stood up and began to clear away Tommy’s plate, Irene opened the door into the scullery. ‘She’s asleep now. I’ve put her back in her pram just until we decide . .
.’

‘Then Tommy’d better go outside and play.’

Irene drew in a sharp breath. ‘He’s not going out into the street. Not yet. Not until . . .’

‘Then he can go into the backyard. Tommy,’ she turned to the boy, ‘if you go into the washhouse, you’ll find a ball near the mangle. It’s one I kept here for Reggie
to play with when I looked after him.’ There was a catch in Lil’s voice at the memory. ‘You can have a kick-about.’

‘Isn’t there anyone I can play with? At the farm I played with Alfie, who lived at the end of the lane.’

Lil sighed. She could see there were going to be a lot of comparisons made between life here in the town and on the farm. And none of them favourable to us, Lil thought. Perhaps it would be
better all round if they did go back. And yet her heart wrenched at the thought of losing her daughter, grandson and – it had to be said – her granddaughter for good. She loved her
daughter devotedly, even though at this moment she was angry and disappointed in her. Yet Irene was still her flesh and blood as were Tommy and the baby.

Lil had a granddaughter! The realization came as a shock.

It was what they’d all wanted; a little girl alongside Tommy. Frank especially had always wanted a little girl, he’d said. But not this way – not like this! He wouldn’t
want this one and his mother had already made her feelings very plain. If Irene stayed here, then Lil’s friendship with Edie was over. And if the little family went back to the country, then
Lil would be alone for the rest of her life with nothing to look forward to except fleeting and infrequent visits to the farm when she could save the money for the fare. It was a heart-breaking
decision she would have to make but, even though she loved Edie as a dear friend, family would always come first, as indeed it would with Edie. Lil couldn’t blame her for taking her
son’s side, as ‘sides’ there’d surely be. And what would Archie say when he came home from his latest trip? Lil shuddered. The whole family would be against her; indeed,
soon the whole street might ostracize them, for Edie was a force to be reckoned with in the neighbourhood. She’d turn everyone against her former friend.

Sensing the tension between the two women, Tommy slipped down from his chair and went out of the back door, closing it quietly behind him. Slowly, Lil turned to look at her daughter.

Thirty-Eight

‘Whose is it?’ Lil asked bluntly unable to hold back the question any longer the moment Tommy was out of earshot.

The stubborn look Lil remembered so well came over Irene’s face. ‘I’m not telling you that, Mam. I don’t want anyone making trouble.’

‘Why? Is he married?’ Lil almost spat the words out in her growing disgust. She no longer knew her own daughter. She would never have thought that Irene could do something like this.
Archie had always called her ‘a good little lass’. Well, he wouldn’t think so now.

Irene closed her eyes. ‘Don’t ask, Mam. Please don’t ask any more.’

‘I take it he is, then. And he’s not going to stand by you? ’Spect he’s gone back to his wife, has he? After a nice little fling that leaves you holding the baby.
Literally. Oh,’ she snorted contemptuously, ‘men have it so easy. Just have their fun and walk away without a backward glance—’

‘He’s dead, Mam,’ Irene blurted out, unable to bear her mother’s tirade any longer. ‘He’s not coming back to anyone.’

Horrified, Lil’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Irene, whose eyes filled with easy tears.

‘Well, I’m sorry for the young feller,’ Lil said stiffly. ‘I wouldn’t wish anyone any harm. And I feel sorry for the Schofields. They must have been
devastated.’ Even though Tommy had indicated that they’d never been home, Lil believed the little boy had got it wrong.

Irene frowned. ‘The Schofields? Why would they be devastated?’

‘Losing their son, of course.’

‘Their son?’ Irene stared at her mother and then she laughed wryly as she understood just what Lil was implying. ‘Oh, no, Marie’s father’s not one of the
Schofields’ boys. As far as we know, they’re still both fine and itching to come home as soon as their turn for demob comes up.’

‘Oh!’ Lil was startled by this revelation. ‘Then who—?’

Irene sighed. ‘Mam, I told you I’m not telling you his name. I won’t ever tell anyone because I don’t want to cause trouble for his poor family. But I’ll just tell
you this and it’s all I’m going to tell anyone. He was a bomber pilot and he was killed on a raid.’

‘Do his family know, I mean—?’

‘I’ve said, no more, Mam,’ Irene snapped. She made as if to get up but Lil put out her hand to stop her.

‘All right, all right, I won’t ask any more.’ Heavily, she added, ‘It won’t make any difference anyway. I just thought that he – or they – might stand
by you in some way, but . . .’ Her voice faded away as the last vestige of that hope died. But she still had another question. ‘You said the Schofields would have you back to live with
them? Why, if the child’s not their son’s?’

Irene’s mouth was tight and there was a trace of accusation in her tone as she said, ‘They’re good people. They understand how lonely I was. How – how I was missing Frank
– afraid he might never come back. It was wrong, I know that, and I’m not making any excuses, but it’s what happens in war. I’m not the only one.’

‘And that makes it better, does it?’ Lil muttered.

‘No, but just remember, I could have had her adopted and said nothing to anyone. The Schofields would have kept my secret, but I could hardly have sworn a four-year-old little boy to
secrecy, could I? It’d’ve come out somehow, sometime. Better to face the music. And there was Reggie too. He knew and he’d have told his mother, I don’t doubt.
Besides,’ her eyes softened, ‘Marie’s a dear little thing. I couldn’t bear to give her up.’

‘So the Schofields knew him, did they?’

‘Just stop digging, Mam, ’cos you’re not getting to know any more either from me or from them.’

Lil could see that she was going to be told nothing more so all she said now was, ‘So, what are you going to do?’

Irene gave a wan smile and Lil could see the sadness in her eyes. She was putting on an act of defiance, but Lil knew her daughter – she hadn’t changed so much – and Irene
wasn’t feeling as brave inside as she’d like everyone to think.

‘Unless you turn us all out here and now, I’m going to stay here until Frank gets home and tell him the truth and let him decide.’

Lil’s mouth dropped open at the audacity of her decision. ‘Well, I reckon you’ll find Edie has summat to say about that long before Frank has a chance to get home.’

Edie was sitting at her table, a cup of tea growing cold in front of her as she stared out of the window overlooking the backyard. The door into the yard from the passageway
running between two houses banged and Shirley’s shadow passed the living-room window overlooking the backyard. The back door opened with a flourish and closed with another crash. Everyone
knew when Shirley arrived home. There was a moment’s pause whilst she took off her shoes in the scullery and then padded on stockinged feet into the living room.

‘Ursula’s gone home. She says she’s got a cold and isn’t feeling well, but I reckon it’s because she feels awkward.’ Shirley laughed. ‘She thinks folks
don’t like her accent. I told her, if they’d been going to object, they’d have done it months ago.’

Suddenly, a shaft of fear struck her as Shirley realized her mother was sitting, just staring into space as if . . . There was no sign of an evening meal being prepared, though, after all they
had eaten at the party, that was reasonable enough. But there was something strange about her mother’s attitude. Her face was a mask, her shoulders slumped. The girl caught her breath and sat
down, suddenly quiet, in a chair opposite Edie. ‘Mam?’ she whispered. ‘What is it? What’s happened? Is it – is it Dad?’ Despite not being actively involved in
the war, Archie was in constant danger fishing in the North Sea. ‘Or – or our Frank?’

Edie blinked, brought out of her reverie. ‘It’s Frank, at least . . .’

‘Oh no, no!’ Shirley cried, shocked. ‘But the war’s over. Surely he’s not got killed
now
at the very last minute?’

‘No, no, duck,’ Edie said hastily, ‘it’s nothing like that. He’s fine as far as I know, though,’ she added bitterly, ‘I reckon there’s someone
he’ll want to kill when he does get home.’

‘Mam, you’re talking in riddles. Just tell me what’s happened? Oh, I know,’ she went on, making up her own stories. ‘It’s our Beth. She’s got herself in
the family way, has she? That’s why we haven’t heard from her in months.’ She laughed gleefully. ‘By heck, Dad’ll have a ducky fit if his precious Beth’s got
herself into trouble.’

‘It’s not Beth,’ Edie said flatly. ‘It’s Irene.’

‘What do you mean, “It’s Irene”? What about her?’

‘She’s come home today – this afternoon – pushing a pram up the street as bold as brass – with a little babby in it.’

Shirley’s mouth dropped open. ‘Never! Not Irene!’ She paused, blinking as the enormity of what her mother was saying hit her with full force. ‘My God! What’s our
Frank going to say?’ She paused and then added vehemently, ‘Or do!’

Edie’s mouth was grim. ‘Divorce her, probably, the little trollop. Eee, Shirley, how could she do it? To Frank? To all of us?’

Shirley was silent for a moment. There weren’t many people in the world that she truly liked, but Irene had been one of them. Though it was she and her older sister, Beth, who were best
friends, they’d both been kind to Shirley and had often included her on their outings, even though she was younger than they were. They hadn’t had to do it, but they’d never made
her feel left out. They’d always taken her ‘down dock’ to meet Archie when he came ashore and involved her in raiding his sea bag for the treats that were always there. And
they’d never missed taking her into town on their shopping sprees when Archie was ‘king for a day’ down Freeman Street. No, of all the family, Beth and Irene had shown the awkward
young girl the most kindness and understanding. But now, since she’d joined the ATS, Shirley had found her niche. She’d made friends – real friends – of her own. Though
she’d felt closer to her mother when she’d been the only one left at home, she’d been honest enough with herself to know that, once the others came back after the war, the focus
of attention would move away from her again. When Frank, Beth and Reggie were all back, Shirley would hardly be noticed – or missed. So, she had taken the decision to make her own life and it
had been the right move for she was happier and more self-confident than she’d ever been. Her plainness at the side of her prettier, cleverer sister wasn’t so noticeable when she was
smartly dressed in her uniform. But now a different sort of tragedy had hit their family and perhaps, after all, her mother would need her now.

‘Well, Mam,’ Shirley said at last, ‘it’s not often I’m shocked, but I have to say I am this time. I’d never have thought it of Irene.’ She caught her
mother’s gaze and held it saying softly, ‘Whatever is poor Aunty Lil going to do?’

‘Aye,’ Edie said gruffly, ‘that’s what I’d like to know.’

Slyly, Shirley added, ‘What would you do if it had been Beth who’d come home with a babby in her arms?’

Edie shook her head. ‘I don’t know, duck. I really don’t, but I do know what I’m going to do about that ’un.’ She jerked her thumb towards the wall that
divided the two houses. ‘I aren’t having owt to do with her. And I’ll tell our Frank not to, either, when he does get home.’

At that moment, through the thin wall, they heard the wails of a hungry child.

For the rest of that day and the whole of the following day, neither Edie nor Shirley went next door. It was probably the longest time that the two older women had gone
without at least speaking over the fence as they hung out their washing or having a cup of tea or a meal together in one of their houses. Lil didn’t know whether to be sorry or relieved that
Edie hadn’t come round.

The next morning, as Shirley was getting ready to return to camp at the end of her short leave, Edie said, ‘I’ve decided to go and see Reggie and see if I can persuade him to come
home. Like you said, Shirley, he’s not old enough to make that sort of a decision.’

Shirley smirked, ‘And to find out more about Irene’s bastard.’

Edie smiled grimly and said sarcastically, ‘However did you guess?’

‘I wish I could come with you, but I’ve got to get back. Just you be sure you write and tell me what happens, Mam. With both of them.’

‘No, no, you run along, duck. I’ll write and tell you all about it. I promise.’

Shirley kissed her mother goodbye, doubting very much whether Edie would tell her anything. Still, she thought, as she hefted her kitbag onto her shoulder and set off up the street without a
glance towards Lil’s house, she knew enough now to write and tell Frank what was waiting for him when he got home. She’d write to Beth, too, if only she knew where she was.

BOOK: Welcome Home
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